#went to the met and was struck by the resemblance

[eraenaa]

So High School

Inspired by the song "So High School" by Taylor Swift

Athlete Rafe Cameron x Scholarly Reader Tag List

Summary: He knows how to ball, you know Aristotle

Warnings: Jealousy, Dry-Humping, Fluff, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 4,638

A/N: Re-upload because I wanted to add a bit of spice and a few more elements inspired by the song. And I wanted to clarify that the Rafe here is heavily inspired by Zach Maclaren

You’ve never considered yourself as a cliche. You did love to read, watch, and think about cliches, you would sigh longingly when you see the differing variations be reproduced in media. The kisses in the rain, the jocks getting with the nerds, the popular girls kissing the geeky boys. All of them were great in theory, but you could never see yourself taking part in one of them. Not until you met him. Rafe Cameron.

You’ve never had a high school romance, nothing that even resembled it. If you recall your high school days, nothing remote to a teenage romance was achieved. You went to balls without a date, only the company of your friends; no flings were made nor ambiguous relationships achieved and could be added to your trophy case. You were not even certain you had a crush— sure, you would find someone attractive, but not so much that you would look forward each day to seeing them in the halls or classroom. It sounds horrid and sad now that you say it out loud or when you share it with any of your uni friends, but you truly did not mind. You were just not destined to have a high school romance. 

In truth, you preferred it that way. You’d rather avoid immature attachments. The shallow jealousy and petty fights you had witnessed over and over again. However, you were always curious about how they felt. How did it feel to look forward to going to school to see the one you liked or even loved? How did it feel to be a blushing mess just because they glanced back at you? What did it feel like to hold the person you wanted’s hand as you walked down the hall? What was it like to have your friends tease you for being so love-struck that it went straight to your heads? How does it feel to be down bad for someone while still being filled with the naivety of youth? But you suppose you don’t have to wonder at all anymore. The cliche things they say in the movies; your stomach filled with butterflies, your heart pounding hard on your chest, your skin tingling with electricity— you thought were just exaggerated reactions, romanticizing further the romances they produce, but they were right. Those are the exact things you felt with Rafe. 

You never saw him coming. He was an exchange student from the States, admitted into your university’s football team. He was a few years older, but with his commitment to the sport, he was taken back a few years and started off in the second year. He was your seatmate on the third day of class of the term. He took a seat by your right and sheepishly asked you for a pen at the start of the lecture. You were set to mind your own business, lend him the pen, and focus on the lecture, but you could not help but notice him leaning closer to you, trying to copy down the notes you typed furiously on your laptop. You thought twice before you decided to be a good samaritan, shifting your laptop screen more clearly toward his view. 

You tried not to get in between him and the professor as he was grilled to answer a question about Aristotle’s Poetics, the whole class’ eyes upon him as he stuttered and flailed to answer the lecturer’s question. You sighed and bit your lip, quickly typing up the answer as he was being shamed by your professor for not doing the readings. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, motioning for him to look at the screen and recite out loud the answer you had written. “Thank you,” Rafe whispered, leaning closer to you, who saved him from further embarrassment. You just nodded, but Rafe did not return to his place; he kept the rather close proximity of the both of you for the rest of the class. You just took his actions as his way of copying more of your notes.

When the class ended, you quickly gathered your things and tried to exit the lecture hall, but Rafe blocked your way. “I’m Rafe, by the way,” he introduced himself, letting out his hand for you to shake. You did, and he swore he felt electricity at your touch; you, too had felt it but mistook it for static. You quickly introduced yourself and tried to sidestep to get to your next class, but he was quick to block you again. “I just wanted to say thank you again,” Rafe said, trying to catch your eye, but it kept flying towards the door. You flash him a small and almost forced smile, “It’s just recitation. It’s no problem.” You said and finally looked him in the eyes. You felt your heart stutter at the smile that crossed his lips, and you once again mistook it for something else, anxiety, perhaps that you might be late to your next class that was all the way on the other side of the campus in a building without an elevator and your classroom conveniently placed on the top floor. 

That was when you noticed that Rafe had still not let go of your hand, nor did he have the intention of letting you go too quickly. “I’m sorry, not to be rude or anything, but I really have to go to my next class,” you say, the tone of your voice a bit frantic so he’d buy into the guilt and finally let go of your hand. Rafe bit his tongue to prevent a grin from slipping his lips; you had the most melodious voice and the most adorable accent he heard while he stayed in your country. “Yeah, no problem… see you next week,” Rafe finally unblocked your path and let go of your hand, watching as you hastily walked out of the classroom, leaving him grinning at himself like a fool. 

You were walking down the halls of your university the next day. Your headphones covered your ears and made you a tad oblivious to the surroundings around you. Rafe caught you by the side of his eye, and quickly ended the conversation he was having with his friends to get to you. He was calling your name, avoiding the sea of students who were venturing to their next class. Everyone’s head turned to him, their attention on him as he called for you, but you were oblivious to him. Rafe finally caught up behind you, grabbing the headband of your headphones to finally get your attention. You yelped in surprise at the sudden actions, turning behind you, ready to take the blow of your attacker, but you were only met with Rafe, who had an amused grin by our wide-eyed and startled state. 

You breathe out a quiet sigh of relief when you realize it was not a complete stranger who had done that abrupt and rather rude action. You watch with a slight furrow in your brow as Rafe wears your headphones, momentarily listening to the song you were listening to. “What is this?” He asked with a confused look, “Patti Smith,” You answered as he returned to you your headphones. “Never heard of him,” Rafe shrugged, and you bit your tongue, “He’s a she,” You said and looked around the corridor only to realize that the two of you stood by the middle of it. Earning curious and even annoyed glances from other students because you and Rafe obstructed the pathway. You stepped to the side, and Rafe followed; you looked up at him in curiosity, “Did you need something?” You asked, wanting an explanation from him for startling you in the middle of the hallway. 

“I…” Rafe trailed, not truly having a concrete reason for calling for you. “Uh… where are you going?” He asked instead, and you felt your brows twitch into a quick frown before you recomposed your expression. “The library,” you say, and he nods. “Come on, then,” He said, taking hold of the handle of your shoulder bag and carrying it for you. Your lips agape, not at all certain what is happening; you watch him walk a few steps forward, but he stops in his tracks and turns to you. “You might wanna lead the way; I’m kinda new here,” You bit your lip as you wanted to laugh. You nodded, and the two of you walked side by side on the way to the library. 

“What’s your degree?” You asked him as you walked through the hallowed halls of your university. Rafe still carried your bag, and you could not help but notice the curious glances pointed at the two of you. “Finance,” you nodded but grew rather curious as to what he was doing in your literature class, so you then proceeded to ask him the question swirling in your mind. “Oh… I ran out of units; either I take that class or be underloaded,” he shrugged and opened the door of the library for you. “So you have no idea nor interest about what we were talking about the other day?” You asked and felt your stomach weirdly twist when he pulled out the chair for you and assisted you to sit. “Not really, no,” He said and took a seat across from you. “Thanks again, by the way, for giving me the answer,” Rafe said in gratitude once more. You flashed a quick smile and took your bag from him, taking out the readings for your other class. It took a few minutes of you reading your course material before you realized that Rafe was just sitting there, watching you. “Don’t you have any requirements to do?” You asked him, eyes locking with clear ocean blue ones. “Nope,” he shook his head, his lips popping the ‘p.’ 

“Then what are you doing here…?” You asked. Rafe refrained from letting his grin turn wider. He just shrugged and watched you furrow your brows; a cute little pout of confusion appeared on your lips. He was uncertain if you were truly oblivious or just pretending to be. What was supposed to be a productive day of reading and staying above your requirements turned into a day of laughing fits and jokes. You both tried to stifle your laughs caused by your random conversations and anecdotes, but it was proven impossible, resulting in both of you being ushered out of the library. “Oh god—“ You laughed as you recalled the stern look of the librarian as they pushed you and Rafe out. In other circumstances, you might have died in embarrassment for having to be escorted out of the library, but somehow, right now, you felt thrilled. 

Rafe watched you as your laughs died down. His gaze studied the crinkle on your nose and the sides of your eyes, the way you would bite down on your lip to stifle them, but it would be to no avail because your melodious laughs still blessed his ears. “Do you want to go to grab lunch?” Rafe suddenly asked, and your laughs finally halted. You looked up at him, his expecting gaze on you, hopefulness in his ocean-blue eyes that you could not shatter. You smiled and nodded, your heart stuttering when he took the bag on your shoulder once more. His warm hand brushes with your skin, causing a jolt of electricity in you that you never thought could happen. You followed him out of campus, your mind in a hazy battlefield as to where this was leading. 

You bit your lip as Rafe waved at you during their practice; you could barely make out his face through the obstruction of his helmet, but you would guess there was a boyish grin on his lips. It had been a week since the incident in the library, and quickly after that, you two found a deeper understanding between each other. You realize the cliche they insisted upon that said ‘you'll find love when you least expect it’ was quite true. You never expect to meet anyone like Rafe. 

“There you are,” you hear your friend arrive, having him see you on the football field because he needed to brow your notes for a class. “What are you even doing here? I practically had to drag you here the last time I wanted to watch a game,” He asked in deep confusion, entirely uncharacteristic of you to be by the field. “Uhm…” you trailed, not having told him about Rafe yet. “I met someone,” You started, watching as his eyes grew wide in surprise. “A player?” He asked, and you nodded, “Which one?” He asked in great interest. You squinted your eyes and looked for Rafe’s number, not wanting to have to point. “The one from the States!? You’re dating a Yank?” He asked as if it was a scandal. “A Yank? Seriously? They’ve stopped calling Americans that for almost a century,” You said, trying not to laugh.

Rafe turned to you, surprised you were no longer alone on the benches. Instead, you were laughing along with some dude who sat a bit closer to you. It made him rather… curious. A good alternative feeling as he did not want to overstep with his emotions and admit to himself that he was quick to grow jealous. “Hey, good game, mate,” Rafe’s teammate complimented and clapped his back, and he returned the compliment, but he could not help but notice that his teammate’s gaze was flying over to you. “What is it?” Rafe asked as he removed his gloves, "Are you… with her?” He asked hesitantly, and Rafe turned to you, who was still enveloped in conversation with the man who was a stranger to him. 

“Yes.” He said even though it was too soon and neither of you had a discussion about where the week of dates you two went on would lead. Rafe watched as his teammate’s brows shot up in surprise. “Do you know her?” Rafe asked, and his teammate nodded. “Yeah, I went to secondary school with her,” He said, and Rafe was in the midst of thinking another question to ask when his teammate spoke once more. “Good luck to you; the word is she has very high standards. A bit stuck up if you ask the other lads in our school.” His teammate and Rafe frowned in confusion. “What?” He asked, “Yeah. She was notorious in our school for being the girl no one could get. A lot of blokes fancied her rotten, but not once did she pay them mind. She was never in any relationships or flings, for that matter— and if I remember correctly, she did not even take a date to the balls.” Rafe’s teammate explained, his gaze flying to you, remembering how the boys at your school would always follow you around or try to get your attention, but you’ve always ignored them. “Anyway, congrats to you, I guess. Never knew her type were Yanks,” Rafe heard his teammate mutter and once again clapped his back before leaving. 

You turn away from your friend as you hear Rafe approaching, flashing him your beaming smile that you only bestowed upon the most deserving of people. You’ve only known him a week, but you felt that your genuine smile was made to be pointed at him and as well be caused by him. “You ready to go?” Rafe asked, ignoring the presence of the guy who sat next to you because he knew himself, and if he acknowledged the guy next to you, his jealousy might shine through. “Uh… yeah, this is my friend, by the way,” You say as you see Rafe was a bit reserved at the moment. “Hey,” your friend greeted and stretched out his hand for Rafe to shake, “Hey,” he muttered and barely turned to your friend. There was a pause of steely, awkward silence that you were not certain the cause of. “I’m gonna go… thanks for the notes,” Your friend quickly excused himself, and you turned to Rafe. “Are you okay?” You asked, and you heard him let out a grieved exhale. “Uh, yeah, just tired,” he fibbed, not wanting to bring out the subject of his jealousy that was quick to stew. 

“Oh, that’s a pity. My friend you’ve just met— he and his boyfriend are throwing a party tonight and I was gonna ask you if you wanted to come. But if you need to rest, that’s completely fine,” You said and watched as his lips agape slightly, “He… he has a boyfriend?” He asked slowly, realizing his jealousy was completely out of place. “Erm, yeah, why?” You asked and found it odd how the almost grumpy expression on his face quickly turned into a smile. “Nothing. Of course I’ll come with you to the party,” Rafe smiled and draped his arm around your shoulder as you two walked off the stands. 

You came to the party with the thought that perhaps you could help Rafe mingle with the others in your year. He could find other friends in this foreign land, but as cliche as it was, you two were lost in each other. Everything faded, and all the two of you could focus on was each other. It was later in the night when you and Rafe’s close proximity was interrupted by your friend. “Come on, we’re going to play spin the bottle,” Your friend pulled at you, who reluctantly stood and stepped away from Rafe. “Spin the bottle? Isn’t that a bit juvenile?” You asked as you were forced to sit on the floor; Rafe was being led by your friend’s significant other to sit across from you. He flashed you his charming smile. You bit your tongue to not let the giddiness in you shine through.

“Rules first,” Your friend replied. “As always, whoever the bottle lands to, you must kiss that person, but if you do not want to, you can play for truth or dare. Your friend says, and all in the circle nod. “Okay then. Who goes first?” Rafe asked, and you turned to your friend, “Well, seeing you are the guest here in our lovely land, you get the honor to go first,” Rafe shrugged and smirked, leaning forward to spin the bottle and prayed that it would land on you, it didn’t. You turned to where the bottle pointed to a girl from your secondary school who licked her lips and looked positively excited at the prospect of kissing Rafe. You bit your lip and sat quietly in your seat, making sure that your face was rid of any reaction. 

Rafe warily shifted his gaze between you and the girl, “I’ll do a truth,” he announced and saw from the corner of his eyes as the strange girl pouted and her shoulders deflated in rejection. “A truth it is,” Your friend said; there was a quick silence whilst he thought of a question. “Why did you choose truth?” They asked Rafe, and you fiddled with your fingers, raising your gaze towards the boy you had been seeing for the past week but had no label to call him. “Just… just didn’t want a kiss,” He shrugged, his gaze flying to you, who quickly avoided his. “Okay then, next,” Your friend said, and you waited for your turn, already knowing in yourself you’d skip the kiss part if it did not land on Rafe. 

“Truth or dare?” You were asked and paused for a moment. Usually, you would quickly pick ‘truth’, not having the nerves to choose the other option, but somehow, right now, you were leaning towards picking ‘dare’, so that is what you had done. You hear ‘oohs’ from your friends, surprised by your boldness. “Dare, then. Okay… I dare you to kiss the person you fancy in this circle the most,” Someone cruelly said, and your eyes widened, cheeks blooming with color as you quickly regretted your choice. “No! I chose ‘dare’ to skip the kissing part! That’s unfair,” You countered, but they only shrugged and replied with “Rules are rules,” 

You pursed your lips and looked around the circle. You already knew who you wanted to kiss, but you lacked the courage to do so. “Okay, everyone, close your eyes, and you pick who you want to kiss,” Your friend decided, showing you kindness, for he knew that the situation was quite too much for you. Rafe chewed on his cheeks, heart beating loudly in his chest, praying to anyone who would hear that you would choose him. 

You took a deep breath and glanced as everyone had their eyes closed. You gathered whatever courage and nerve you had to stand from your seat and lean closer to Rafe. Admiring his handsome face for a moment before placing a quick, chaste kiss at the corner of his lips. You feel him twitch in surprise, and you quickly return to your seat as he opens his ocean-blue eyes. His lips were agape in shock, and he was being tugged into a wide smile that showcased his dimples. His eyes crinkled as he beamed at you, filled with romantic giddiness. The game went through a few more rounds until everyone eventually got bored, and you and Rafe were left in each other’s company once more. 

The music was blaring; the chatter was loud, but not a single noise was heard by the two of you as you had been enveloped in conversation. You quickly grew entranced by how random your topics were. It could be a deep, philosophical engagement, one where you were both perplexed and engrossed by the subject, then the next, you were clutching your stomach because you were laughing so hard at one of his jokes.

“Where’d everybody go?” Rafe suddenly asked as he reluctantly rested his gaze on anything else other than you. Your lips agape as you saw the flat was cleared out, the remnants of the party and the mess it caused still present but not those who had caused it. You let out a bubbling laugh as you two were now the only ones present; not even the hosts of the party could be accounted for. “We should probably go home, huh,” You say, your eyes shifting between Rafe’s gaze and the floor that was riddled with confetti and spilled drinks. “Yeah, come on, I’ll walk you home,” He said as he stood, reaching out his hand for you to take as he assisted you to stand. 

“Rafe,” You called as you two stood by the entrance of your flat. “Yes, pretty girl?” He asked with a grin, and you bit your lip to hinder yourself from grinning like a lovestruck fool. You took a deep breath before you spoke, “Not to sound so high school, but I… I really like you,” You confessed. You did not know how to relay how you felt seeing he was the first one to spur this type of giddiness in you. You gazed up at him, watching as his eyes twinkled with mirth and the smile on his lips widened. You held your breath as he leaned in and kissed your lips. It was a chaste kiss, just like the one earlier, but it was still capable of leaving you both grinning. 

Your eyes alight with newfound affection as you and he stood below the pale moonlight. You sighed happily as Rafe placed his warm hand on your cheek, caressing your skin before ultimately leaning in to kiss you once more. A different, more fervent, and deeper kind of kiss than the first one shared. You feel your heart flutter and your body turn warm as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush towards him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him downwards to your height, feeling him smirk against your lips.

When you parted for air, you bit your lip as a wide, cheek-aching smile spread upon it. “I think like you more,” He said against your lips. You knew it was a line, a cheesy one at that, but your stomach flipped in violent delight, and you stood on your toes to feel his lips against yours again. “Do… do you wanna go in?” You asked him as your lips parted again, your mind spinning from the way he kissed you and pulled on your waist. “Yes,” he said a bit too eagerly, the tips of his ears growing red a he realized the slight desperation in his voice, but you simply found it endearing. 

When in the privacy of your flat, you grinned against Rafe’s lips as he gently pushed you against the wall, his large frame flushed against yours. Your fingers reached to run themselves through his hair as his hands on your waist strayed hesitantly higher. “You sighed as his lips moved to place kisses on your neck, “I hope you know I didn’t offer to walk you home for this,” Rafe sighed against your neck, breathing deeply your scent as his need for you bulged painfully in his jeans. “I know,” You smiled and whimpered as you felt him nip your skin. 

You were not certain if you should warn him of the truth that you’ve never done anything such as this and that you have never reached this level of intimacy with anyone. But you swallowed the words as you feared you would run him away. You gasped as Rafe effortlessly hoisted you on his waist. Your mind spun as he deeply kissed you and led you to your sofa, him sitting on the cushion and you straddling his waist. You panted as you felt his need against your core. 

Rafe swallowed thickly as he gazed at you, your lips swollen and eyes filled with need for him. “I… I don’t have protection,” He sheepishly, regrettably said, and you could blink. “Oh,” Was all you could say, uncertain if you should move from the position you both were in even though your body screamed for you to stay put. “I’m sorry, I—“ He started to speak, and you shook your head, “No, don’t be,” You rested your palm on his chest and felt the erratic beating of his heart, a rhythm that matched yours. Rafe took in a deep breath and lowered his gaze as if in shame; you chewed on your lip and spoke. “Maybe uhm… maybe we could do something else?” 

“Like what?” He asked hesitantly; you couldn’t really verbalize your intent, so instead, you showed it to him. Rafe’s jaw slacked as you started to grind your hips, your core rubbing against his length. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and placed small kisses on his skin as you tried to stifle your sighs of pleasure. 

Rafe’s hands found home at your rear, guiding and aiding your movements. Rafe let out a hiss as he felt himself quickly be led to climax. You finally vocalized your moans as you, too, were on the precipice of your peak; your hand moved to grip Rafe’s dark blonde locks as you came, calling his name. Rafe moved to take your face into his hands and intertwine your lips as he came undone, his seed spilling out in his trousers. He never thought he could come undone so harshly with ought actually being touched by someone. 

When your lips parted, and the hazy want in you subsided, you grinned widely at Rafe, who let out an amused breath. The both of you stayed silent, but Rafe’s thoughts screamed loudly in his head. Would it be cliché of him to say that he had fallen so quickly? That seeing you in the lecture hall was love at first sight, and now, even only knowing you for only a short time, he knew you were the one. 

[liv2post]

Professors and Plants

Severus Snape x Herbology!Reader Wordcount: ~2.4k Summary: You're the new replacement for Professor Sprout and one day you require someone to plant-sit for you.

Read here or on ao3

Severus was struck the first time he saw you enter the Great Hall for breakfast at the start of the new term. You were Professor Sprout’s replacement as well as her cousin, but most people wouldn’t have thought the latter due to your appearance. Your dark robes resembled his and you donned a pair of boots with yellow thread sewn into the tops of the soles. What really stood out was your hair. It was snow white, transitioning into black at the bottom third of your hair length like a gradient. Your eyes met his and held his gaze for no more than a second as you took the last available seat that happened to be at the opposite end of the head table.

Despite your dark appearance, you were perfectly amicable and polite with the other teachers, even Lockhart, but you weren’t one to ever start conversations with any of them, preferring to keep more to yourself unless someone wished to converse with you. 

The first time he talked to you was that same day before classes would start tomorrow to get a proper read on you. 

“Hello, Professor Snape,” you greeted mildly, turning away from a Sopophorous Bean plant to face him as he barely clicked the door to the greenhouse behind him.

“How do you know my name?” His eyebrows furrowed and his soft baritone voice floated through the air.

“I know your first name, too. We went to school together, but you were older. I graduated just before you took over for Professor Slughorn.”

“I see…”

“Is there something you need from me?”

“Dittany leaves. Surely, Pomona left a plant or two in your care.”

“She most definitely did. Will a standard 16 oz jar’s worth do?”

“Yes.”

You smiled softly, retrieving a mason jar and a pair of snippers, and began trimming the fuzzy green leaves of one of the tall dittany plants that sat in the corner. “Did you and Pomona have any arrangements?” you called back to him.

“Arrangements?” Snape repeated, his eyes flicking over a decorative succulent whose pot was shaped like a mushroom before looking back at you. 

“Given our positions, I imagine you and I will be supplying each other with inventory and remedies or what have you. I was just wondering if you and Pomona had any arrangements that made each other's lives easier or more efficient work-wise. Do you like your ingredients bottled a certain way? Are there certain things you find yourself running out of more often than others?”

“We didn’t have any specific protocols established. Pomona was annoyingly protective of her plants,” he stated coolly. “But…now that you mention it, my store of wormwood tends to fluctuate. The younger years can be…unapologetically wasteful.”

“Noted. I will try to remain well-stocked on wormwood. And by the way,” you screwed on the jar lid, the glass filled to the brim with leaves—not so compactly that they were squashed inside, but certainly not leaving much wiggle room either, “I’m not as crazy a plant lady as my cousin is. Minerva tells me you're quite competent at your job and it sounds like I can trust you so…if you ever need to grab something feel free to come and go through the greenhouses as you please. I just ask that if I happen to not be present to leave a note citing what you took and the quantity. Y’know, for proper record keeping ‘n all. If I know what I have then I know what I can still provide you with.”

Snape nodded lightly. “Yes… That sounds practical enough.”

“Good,” you hummed, handing him the mason jar, your fingertips just barely brushing as he took it from you. “Glad we understand each other."

______________________________________________________________

Duties aside, you and Professor Snape got along rather well. He respected your need for notes and wrote what he took crystal clear, signing them off with “S.S”. You delivered ingredients he’d sent for in a timely manner, ensuring they weren’t overly compacted or bottled improperly. He returned the courtesy when it came to any potion meant to help your plants’ growth, sometimes brewing them fresh rather than giving you a bottle that had sat on the shelf for months at a time. Sometimes he’d add a sarcastic little comment on the notes about a student or a certain DADA teacher who you’d both found to be pretentious. 

From the notes blossomed more sociable interactions. Despite being separated by multiple floors, your classes were within the same vicinity of the castle’s layout, which meant, more often than not, you’d run into him when descending down to meals as he ascended up. You’d walk with each other, and talk a little bit, whether it be about incidents in the classroom or happenings informed to the both of you from the Prophet. The conversations would continue at meals where you’d start sitting next to one another. You didn’t get to know each other beyond a collegial level until around early November when the temperature started to get colder every day and the leaves were a vibrant wash of yellow, orange, and red. Your open-door policy on your greenhouses remained the same, but you had clarified that if he ever wanted to have tea or escape the chill of the dungeons, that open-door policy extended to your warm and cozy office. One day he knocked and when you opened the door he simply stated, “It’s cold,” before you promptly held the door back further, allowing him entry. 

You’d drink tea often, sometimes while the both of you graded, passively enjoying one another’s company as you did so, sometimes sitting on the couch or chairs and having direct conversations with one another. You compared each other's schooling experience with one another, gaping at the fact that he knew so many curses and had even invented a few spells. He confessed that it was actually Lockhart’s position he wanted, not to teach potions. 

“I didn’t take you for a Hufflepuff when I first saw you,” he admitted one afternoon.

“Was there anything else to take me as, Severus? My being here was not only to satisfy the Herbology teacher role, but also to fill the Head of Hufflepuff spot.”

“Of course, just outwardly…you didn’t seem the type. And the students have joked that your creatively witty chiding ought to have landed you in Slytherin.”

You exhaled quietly. “My whole family is mostly Hufflepuff with a few Gryffindors sprinkled in, but even so I understand my general dark attire and reticence made me a bit of a black sheep amongst my peers. I can’t really disagree with you much on that second point. All I can say in my defense is that my loyalty is sharper than my tongue. If you ever need a reminder that I am indeed a Hufflepuff, know that I am always wearing this.” You rolled up the left sleeve of your dark robe to reveal a beaded bracelet around your wrist, each bead yellow with black text stamped in on the sides, spelling out “HUFFLEPUFF.”

An unexpected, incredulous smirk tugged on Severus’s lips. “You really wear that all the time?”

“Only when I’m not bathing or sleeping. My sister made it for me after we got sorted. We, unfortunately, were not placed in the same house… Don’t look at me like that!” you chuckled at the mostly feigned repulsed expression regarding your sibling's sickly sweet behavior. “I happen to like this bracelet, thank you very much!”

“Who knew under your robes was something so garishly bright,” he sneered playfully.

“You’re not as slick as you think either, Severus. Don’t think I didn’t see that Slytherin scarf beneath your cloak at the last Quidditch match,” you eyed him knowingly. He parted his lips to refute but found he had no argument and grumbled while blushing against his tea cup.

______________________________________________________________

“Pardon me, Professor Lockhart, but could I speak to you for a moment?” 

The DADA teacher replied with an “Of course, dear” as he followed you to a spot off to the side from the entrance of the Great Hall after you had finished lunch one Friday afternoon. Severus eyed the both of you as he himself was slowly exiting the Great Hall as well. He slowed his pace down significantly as he floated through the corridor so he could pick up on what you two were saying. You had never willingly started a conversation with Lockhart before.

“...going to be gone this weekend. Leaving tonight, actually…

…take care of a few plants…? I left instructions in Greenhouse 4…”

“...ourse I can! Watering a few plants should be easier than defeating a vampire or two…”

You wanted Lockhart to plant-sit for you this weekend? That actually stung him a bit. Why wouldn’t you ask him to plant-sit for you? He was perfectly capable of doing so and he knew your greenhouses like the back of his hand. Did you not actually trust him like you claimed to?

He kept silent on the matter, his expression remaining impassive as he saw you off to the midnight train in Hogsmeade that same night. 

“See you Monday, Severus,” you bid softly, lightly patting his upper arm before stepping off the platform and disappearing into the night on the train until it was no more than a dot in the distance.

Severus didn’t trust Lockhart to do what was asked of him. Not one bit. Unless it was DADA-related or stroked his ego directly, the man couldn’t be bothered to accomplish what was asked of him. He imagined the fool would pass off the task to a student. Severus unlocked Greenhouse 4 the next morning and found the instructions you had left behind for Lockhart. They were simple and bullet-pointed, detailing exactly what to do and where he could find what. All that was asked of him was to spray a batch of Alihotsy plants with a germinating solution that sat on the third shelf in the supply cabinet, rotate them out of the sun at three o’clock each day, place them back at dawn, trim the matured leaves and store them in a jar. “Eventually to be delivered to our amazing potion master,” it noted, making him smile.

Severus kept a watchful eye on Lockhart that first day. Lockhart remained in his office until lunch, and after that made a trip down to Hogsmeade, no doubt to drink and find some entertaining company. At 2:45, Snape went up to Greenhouse 4 and confirmed that nothing had been moved from when he entered there this morning, the germinating solution still sitting in the exact same spot. He sprayed them all heartily and shifted the plants to a shelf away from the sun’s sight. A few leaves had matured so he gingerly snipped them from the stem and placed them in a standard mason jar. He also noticed several snails trying to sneak their way into some Potted Mandrake and disposed of them as well as repaired some worn netting protecting the Shrivelfig that was meant to keep out aphids.

He came by Sunday morning and treated the Alihotsy the same, making sure to place them in the sun at dawn so they had absorbed plenty of light by mid-afternoon. Once again, Lockhart hadn’t even bothered. 

______________________________________________________________

You returned Monday morning while everyone was at breakfast. Upon stepping into Greenhouse 4, you sighed in relief when it looked as though your plants had indeed been taken care of in your absence. You smiled pleasantly when you noticed some protective netting had been repaired, a task you planned on getting to when you had returned, but your smile broadened even more when you noticed a muddy boot print on the ground, one that did not at all belong to Professor Lockhart.

“Thank you for taking care of the Alihotsy this weekend,” you said to Lockhart who happened to be passing by the door that led down to the kitchen as you had come back from retrieving a snack that would substitute breakfast.

“Huh? Oh!” The man quickly recovered. The look of confusion lasted not even a second before plastering on a smile. “Yes, it was nothing! You can always count on me, Y/N!” he winked. You nodded once, drifting away from the man in favor of walking alongside the potion master who was breezing by in the same corridor.

“Hi,” you greeted. 

“Welcome back,” he replied, hiding his delight at your return. 

“Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Not particularly, though I was tempted to push Lockhart down a flight of stairs multiple times.” 

“Aren’t we all,” you laughed.

He walked with you all the way back to your office, select words hanging on the tip of his tongue until finally, he couldn’t hold them back anymore as you pushed on the handle of the door.

“Lockhart didn’t take care of your plants,” Severus blurted. 

“Oh?” Your hand slipped from the handle to face him with feigned curiosity.

“I didn’t trust him and…was proven correct when he ignored the task and instead spent his time in Hogsmeade, so I took care of them,” he explained carefully.

You smiled sweetly at him, lacing your fingers together in front of you. “I know, Severus.”

His breath caught in his throat. “You do?”

“Mhm. Truthfully it wouldn't have been the end of the world had those plants gone a couple of days without treatment, but I wanted to see what Lockhart would do and how he’d react to receiving false praise. I can’t say I’m surprised by the results, really. He’s as phony as ever.”

The potion master smirked. “Quite.”

You took a small step forward, stood on your tippy toes, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, making him flush pink when you pulled back and looked at him with twinkling eyes. “Thank you for taking care of my plants, Severus,” you murmured, affectionately squeezing his shoulders, before slipping inside of your office. Severus stood frozen in shock, his heart drumming in his chest before he managed to stop his brain from short-circuiting further. Without warning, he entered your office as well—you did have an open door policy after all—where he received another kiss. And another. And another…

He should plant-sit for you more often.

[yoredoesmore]

Is it cool if I request Hoshina Soshiro x Fem reader but Hoshina saw the reader drawing him on her sketch book a place can be anywhere.

Ok bye!

a/n: what a cute little request! Thank you so much for submitting something ^^

pairing: Hoshina x fem!Reader

summary: reader draws her vice captain as a cat (=^･ｪ･^=)

genre: fluff/romance/comedy [wc: 1.1k ]

enjoy!

Vice Catnip Hoshina | Hoshina Soshiro

It was one of those days again, where peace and quiet consumed Tachikawa Base. Most of today's schedule consisted of training sessions and important battle discussions– two activities that did not demand your presence as Operations Sub Leader. Your workload consisted of finding new information on the Kaiju and Improving the suit's functions.

Therefore you sat in the cramped space of your office, mind trapped in a cloud of concentration. You normally felt nothing but joy when pursuing your job. Every little achievement, be it fixing a small issue or handing in a report, made the pride in your heart grow. But today that energy had left you.

You felt little to no joy nor motivation, the mere thought of picking up the next file caused you immense stress. All you wished for was to lie down on your bed and enjoy the beautiful spring weather. But your next break was hours away and the way things were looking right now, with the huge pile of papers that sat in front of you, you wouldn't be out of her before midnight.

“Ugh..if only I wasn't alone.” You sighed, hands reaching for your mechanical pencil. While thinking about what piece of work to tackle next, you dragged your pencil over a ripped piece of paper, scribbling whatever came to mind. You found out that this was quite therapeutic and helped you blow off some steam sometimes.

As you looked down to see what you created, you were met with an abstract doodle of a cat.

You smiled.

The cat was holding a fish in her hand and her mouth sat wide open to devour it. Your eyes moved across the drawn lines, with nothing in mind at first, until you realized that its teeth looked awfully familiar. Two sharp fangs, where have you seen those before..?

Almost immediately an image popped into your head, the very face of your beloved Vice Captain. It was quite absurd, comparing Hoshina to a cat, yet the more you thought about it the more the resemblance struck you– until you were fully convinced that the Vice Captain looked just like a cat.

In any normal situation you would have allowed yourself a quick laugh and move on with your duties but for some reason imagining Hoshina as a cat was quite hilarious, thus you entertained yourself further with the thought.

“The Vice Captain as a cat..what would he look like exactly?” Your hands reached for your pencil case where they pulled out an eraser. Now fully equipped you felt ready to bring your imagination to life. You scribbled and drew and erased, trying to create a perfect reflection of your mind. Twenty minutes went by without you realizing, this new activity having you in quite a hold. You were so deep in thought that you didn't even hear the door opening.

As you drew the final line a hum of satisfaction escaped your lips. Your gaze admired the art you had put on your notebook, pride shining in your eyes.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

You froze.

The pencil you were holding on so tightly only seconds ago fell out of your hands, connecting with the cold floor and the blood in your body turned to ice as you finally perceived the new presence behind you. Slowly turning your body around, you were met with the curious face of your Vice Captain.

“No.” Was the only response you found yourself being able to come up with.

“But it says Vice Catnip at the bottom, slightly inappropriate if I might add but I'll let it slide because it's a good drawing.”

Ten minutes ago you were giggling and laughing at the slightly inappropriate pun you came up with. You spend a good amount of time thinking of cat related words that would either match Vice or Captain– Vice Cat-tain would have almost made it on the paper but the pronunciation felt off.

If only you would have gone with that one.

You sat there in silence, neither of you saying anything. Hoshina patiently waited for you to explain yourself but the only thing you wished to do was take the paper and rip it into thousand little pieces.

“It's you..” You finally managed to admit. You mentally prepared yourself to get the scolding of your life. Hoshina was not the type of guy who took any type of mockery lightly but instead of teasing words, you were graced with a heartfelt laugh. The man reached his hand out to grab the paper and give it a more thorough examination.

“Please don't look at it!” Your protest fell on deaf ears as the Vice Captain dragged his eyes over every line, carefully analyzing your art work. You were no match for him either. Desperately you tried to snatch the paper out of his grip but every time you lifted your hands, Hoshina pulled away at the last second. After two minutes you simply gave up and accepted your fate.

“I'm not mad if that's what ya thinkin.” He suddenly said, returning the art piece.

“You are not..?” Your hands reached out to receive it.

“It's quite cute. Me as a cat, never imagine that.” His little laugh slightly eased the tension in the air, allowing you to relax. Placing the drawing down, you started to explain to the Vice Captain how you ended up in this situation, so that he wouldn't get the wrong idea. To your surprise, he showed quite a lot of consideration and even admitted that he liked it when his colleagues joked around like that with him.

You laughed and chatted for a little longer, until all humiliation was forgotten.

“Ya figured what cat I would be?” Hoshina suddenly asked, catching you off guard.

“Hm..let me think. Probably the type that meows really loud for no reason.”

The look Hoshina gave you was priceless. “I meant..the breed.”

What is wrong with me??

Hoshina broke out into another fit of laughter while you were trying your best not to drown in a sea of shame. This was your first time interacting with the Vice Captain in such casual way. Although you have done nothing but humiliate yourself so far, this was rather nice. It was a good distraction from work and definitely worked better than random scribbles.

Bonus:

“Come again?"

“Looking at someone's drawing without their permission is quite rude, so it's only fair..” Your voice became a mere whisper at the end, yet Hoshina still heard everything clearly.

“Only fair, huh?” A long sigh escaped his lips as he cleared his throat.

Is he actually going to..

“Meow.”

You gasped.

The look on the Vice Captains face was picture worthy. To think that he'd actually comply and meow for you, it made your heart jump.

“Vice Captain..” Kafka stood at the door, accompanied by Reno and Shinomiya. They had come by to ask Hoshina something important but were instead met with something horrifying.

“..Did you just..meow?”

“No.”

[edensfixations]

hehe imagine if Deku had a twin sibling who was a big Hawks fan (but is more low-key about it) and coincidentally had a recessive quirk that gave them 2 pairs of retractable wings

AHH i LOVE these platonic au's!

we're going bullet point form!

• izuku has a twin sister? 🤨 her name? isaki!!

• isaki, just like her brother, doesn't hold much height! she's around 5 feet tall, very defensive about it! she's got the same green curly hair but longer! she has freakles and glasses (courtesy of her reading late at night in the dark and unlucky genetics.)

• anyway, contrary to her brother, she has a quirk. she got it when she was five and absolutely went batshit crazy when feathers sprouted out of her back a random saturday morning. she ran straight to izuku and he was no help whatsoever. he screamed louder than her!

• over the years her quirk has grown and developed! for a bit she ended up randomly floating causing a massive panic to her mother and amusement from her brother. her wings had grown into large black wings that resembles a crows.

• she's gained many nicknames from people. from her mother, dove. from her brother, saki and raven! katsuki however calls her shadow for an array of unfortunate reasons but at least she doesn't get the same treatment as her brother!!

• when the midoriya twins turned 12 a new hero made his way onto the scene! an 18 year old with his own company??!?!? suddenly in the top 10 in only 6 months???? WHAT?!?

• hawks having an amazing reputation like this immediately after debuting had him have eyes on him constantly! and isaki wasn't any different!

• while her brother was OBSESSED with all might since they were kids, she had only idolised him a bit. he was 100% her biggest inspiration and thought only the most highly of him but she never wanted to be a hero until she saw hawks! I mean she practically bounced off the walls when she saw someone with a similar quirk!

• over the next 2 years she had slowly built a merch a collection, a pathetic one really because she mostly used her pocket money for food and books while her brother never really used his money for anything but all might!

•her merch collection includes a few posters, 3 hoodies, an action figure and a bobble head as well as some limited edition sneakers that she'll NEVER admit she qued overnight for.

• similar to her twin brother, she also keeps a little notebooks. she however keeps about 4? 2 for hawks and 2 for everyone else. after deciding she'd like to follow her quirkless brother and his deranged frenemy to ua, she starts assessing some of her favourite heroes, namely hawks and his techniques and how to utilise them.

• so from ages 13-15 you'll just see an isaki midoriya flying around in her backyard practicing moves she learnt from hawks via the internet.

• when izuku had started his 10 month intense training with a mystery man izuku hadn't told her about, she decided to start her own 10 month training. hers however contained a gym and her doing combat training with whoever was training there too and up for it! there she met tenya iida! story for another time.

• however, about 5 months into her training, she had particularly drained herself that day. because of this she was barely paying attention to her surroundings. it was quite a shock to her when she had been suddenly grabbed from the ground and sped off about a block away when where she once was!

• who was it? pro hero hawks of course! naturally, isaki was completely star struck. she could not BELIEVE who was standing in front of her right now!!! she was barely listening to him warning her to watch where she's walking so she doesn't get run over by a car (she walked into traffic, whoops!) she snapped out of trance when she heard him say, "nice wings, kid" before he was gone.

•isaki flew home and screamed into her pillow!!! she couldn't believe that happened! HE COMPLIMENTED HER WINGS!!!!!! she was so close to him! practically hugging him! (delusion)

• upon her screaming her mother and brother enter her room, curious, afraid and wanting answers.

• she looks up from her pillow, pink faced and hyperventilating, "HE SAID I HAVE NICE WINGS!!" her wings start fluttering creating a small breeze. it's a small habit she picked up from when she was little. her little family chuckled at her words. "Who??" "That guy from the gym??" "NO HAWKS. I CAN DIE HAPPY."

• isaki is now laying on the ground while her brothers jaw is slack and her mother leaves, giggling to herself.

• "YOU MET NUMBER 3 HERO HAWKS??!!" "YEAH WHEN I ACCIDENTALLY ALMOST WALKED INTO TRAFFIC!!!!" "WHAT?!"

• needless to say, she wore her hoodie and limited edition sneakers to bed that night.

(pls send requests I loved doing this so muchhhh!!)

[nataliasquote]

I Know What You Are | n romanoff

Summary: The bane of Natasha’s existence had finally slipped up but when sent to eliminate her, feeling get in the way far too easily.

Warnings: blood, weapons, character death (oops), angst with no happy ending :)

wc: 5.9k (I got really carried away!)

note: this is part 2 of the ideas that were given to me by @katyaromanoffpetrova so thank you love ❤️ this was fun

-⧗-

“I’ve got your six,” a familiar voice crackled through the redhead’s earpiece. She rolled her shoulders back and adjusted her grip on her gun, eyes darting across the smoke covered landscape that loomed before her. They’d picked a good vantage point but it was far too exposed for the assassin’s liking.

Natasha turned away from the edge and nodded to Clint, who’s arrow was already strung in his bow, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Her flash of red hair was the last thing he saw before she disappeared down the dark stairwell and back out onto the street.

“How long are we going to be circling like this, Nat?” Clint asked, a little out of breath as he finally caught up to his partner. Her eyes were distant, darting between the loosened bricks of the wall they were currently hiding behind. “Are you sure she’s here?”

“She is, I can feel it.” The echoes of gunfire and explosions rattled through their skulls, although the assassins were quite deaf to it now. Clint more than Nat. They clearly weren’t the only ones disturbed by the actions of one woman and her organisation.

A particularly loud bang went off nearby and Clint winced, his hand flying up to the hearing aid in his right ear. Natasha would have sent her best friend a sympathetic look if something hadn’t caught her eye across the desolate square.

A flash of silver, glinting in the orange sunlight as golden hour descended across the war zone.

“Got her.” Natasha scrambled up from her place and raced after the dark figure, her movements as silent and deadly as the night. Frustration spurred her onwards. This woman had been the source of Shield’s stress for months, but that was all about to end.

Her target’s preferred methods rather intrigued Natasha, who was all about efficiency when it came to killing. Guns were always in her arsenal, widow bites too. Her thighs often felt empty without a full holster. But the mystery woman never touched a gun. She was a master with a blade, stabbing and slashing her enemies with a brutal grace, silently dancing across the battlefield leaving disaster in her wake.

She was a free spirit, which drove Natasha mad. No one should be allowed this amount of freedom with her track history and there was no way Natasha was going to return to Shield empty handed. Not today.

The cacophony of noise ceased suddenly and Natasha felt Clint’s presence on the rooftop to her right. The hazy air was still so Natasha stuck to the shadows, the rough brick pressing through the fabric on her suit as she skulked around a corner.

But a sharp pain struck the back of her knee and she collapsed to the ground, a grunt of pain escaping her chapped lips.

A five inch blade thrown with horrifying accuracy had lodged itself in her upper calf ,only inches away from her knee. The pain was nauseating, but Natasha barely had a chance to properly process it before two dust covered boots stepped into her eyeline. With another grunt, she looked up at the figure before her, determined not to show pain on her face.

Her icy glare was met with a mask-covered face, one she knew well. The black mask was made of hard plastic and resembled two hands that covered the wearer’s mouth and nose - basically a muzzle. But playfully glinting eyes peaked over it and it was obvious they were paired with a smirk. Gloved hands twirled a knife, almost daring Natasha to step up and attack. But the redhead had been knocked off her game by those very eyes that taunted her.

She knew them…

Too well.

She used to love them. And as those gloved hands moved to slowly lift the mask from her face, Natasha felt her heart fall into the pit of her stomach.

“Y/n?” She dared to ask, voice barely above a whisper. She got no reply, but the subtle tensing of her opponent’s muscles told her all she needed to know. Fate was laughing at her. The woman she thought had been ripped away from her when they were teenagers was now towering above her, forcing suppressed memories of the Red Room to come crashing down onto both women, leaving them breathless.

This moment of hesitation was all Clint needed to fire, but Y/n was one step ahead. She’d seen him on the roof and knew what he was waiting for, so by the time his arrow had implanted itself into the wall, she had disappeared into the smoke, leaving Natasha alone. The knife in her leg and the rubble indenting her skin did nothing to shake her from her mind, still staring into the empty space where the woman had just been.

Clint came rushing over and dropped to his knee to inspect Natasha’s wounds. He didn’t dare address how much his best friend looked like she’d seen a ghost, pale face and wide eyes and not just from blood loss.

“Cmon, we have to get out here.” He hooked his arms under hers and tried to get her to stand, but Natasha was far too spaced out too even notice what he was trying to do. But Clint’s main concern was the knife. He couldn’t pull it out lest she bled out before they made the jet, but Natasha couldn’t exactly walk far either.

He propped her up against the wall and lightly tapped her face a few times, her green eyes shooting back to his.

“Where did she go?” She asked, suddenly breathless.

“I really don’t know. But you need to get to medical, Nat. We have to let her go.”

“I knew her. Oh my god, I knew her, Clint. Why is she here?” Clint didn’t know how to answer. Part of him thought she was just rambling nonsense from the bloodloss, but a small part of him knew she was making sense. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out where they knew each other from.

“We’ll figure it out when we’re back.” His eyes widened as Natasha’s hand gravitated to the knife lodged in her calf. He reached for her hands, holding them up and away from her injury.

“Clint,” she warned, trying to pull her hands away. “Let me pull it out and we can go after her.”

Clint had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Natasha’s stubbornness was infuriating sometimes. “That’s not gonna happen. She’s gone, Nat, and you need medical attention. Fury wouldn’t be impressed if you bled out from a knife wound.”

Natasha glared at him but stopped struggling and allowed him to help her limp back to the jet. They’d parked on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse, so the stairs were a killer. Natasha’s lip bled from how hard she was biting it to muffle her cries of pain.

But the moment she sank down into her seat, memories flooded her mind, both positive and negative, but all involving Y/n. She wasn’t fifteen years old anymore with eyes full of hope, but the same spark was still there, one Natasha had fallen in love with.

What had happened to her?

~~~

The low clunk of a heavy metal door echoed through the chamber, three pairs of footsteps following suit. A female assassin, flanked by two guards, made her way to the centre of the room, her mask resting loosely between her fingers as her eyes remained fixed on the cracks in the concrete floor. The lighting was harsh, yellow bulbs buzzing, making her eye twitch.

Hushed voices became silent as she was presented before them and Y/n knew what was about to happen. She’d lived this day a thousand times.

“Agent,” one of the men called out, his voice gruff. “Mission report.”

“There was an ambush. I could not complete the mission, Sir.” Her eyes remained at her feet but she felt the air in the room shift and the guards beside her tense up. No one failed a mission in Hydra.

A pair of boots approached her and stopped only inches away. A calloused hand firmly gripped her chin and tilted her head up to the light, fingers bruising the skin on her jaw. “We taught you not to fail,” he spat, jerking his hand to emphasise his words. Y/n didn’t flinch. “All of your training, everything we’ve done for you and this is how you repay us?”

“There was a complication.”

He jerked her jaw again, forcing her to look him in the eye. “What complication?”

“The Avengers were there. I couldn’t-”

The sound of a fist slamming on a metal table made her jump and her mask clattered to the ground. The Avengers were a sore spot, and judging by the amount of Russian curse words intermingled with the Avengers’ name in only a few sentences, that hadn’t changed in the three days she’d been gone.

The agent in front of her returned to the group and Y/n finally took a breath, readjusting her jaw after its rough treatment. Although she worked willingly for Hydra, Y/n wasn’t that bothered with keeping track of exactly who they hated each week. She just did as she was told and breathed through the punishments that followed after. Work was work, unfortunately for her, and Hydra provided food and a roof over her head. Luxuries, as far as she was concerned.

A door opened to her right and she watched from the corner of her eye as a figure slipped through, sticking to the shadowed walls on instinct. The glint of a metal arm gave her a weird sense of peace and she turned to meet his eyes, his gaze softening as he looked at her.

“Soldat,” Pierce called, finally rising from his chair after staying silent for so long. He smiled slyly at Y/n who only ignored him. “Take our prized possession to the training room and make sure she never fails again. Use whatever measures you have to.” He directed his orders at Bucky who clenched his metal fist and grabbed Y/n/s forearm, dragging her out of the room.

Neither spoke a word until they reached the training room, just as dark and cold as the rest of the facility. You’d think an organisation like Hydra would have the funds to buy some decent light bulbs. All this yellow light was on Y/n’s last nerve.

Bucky threw her down onto the mats and stood with his arms behind his back as he watched the woman try to get her breath back. He didn’t intend to wind her, but the cameras in every corner were monitored so he couldn’t go easy on her.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his hair swinging beside his face and hiding his lips from view. Y/n waved him off and climbed to her feet, bringing her fists up to her face and setting her feet in a fighting stance. The cameras had no audio, so as long as they fought and he got a good few punches in, no one would suspect anything different.

“Don’t. Just hit me.” They circled each a few times, blocking a couple of punches but nothing major until Bucky grabbed Y/n’s arm and trapped her in a headlock, squeezing just tight enough that her airways were constricted. She tapped out and regained her position before they fought again, this time with her sending a few hits to his stomach.

“I need to ask you about something,” Y/n said through gritted teeth, deflecting a series of punches. Bucky grunted, which was his way of saying ‘go ahead’. “You know when you saw Steve for the first time since… you know, how did you handle it?”

Something shifted behind his eyes at the mention of his old best friend and he sent a strong left hook towards Y/n’s jaw, metal colliding with the bone with a crack. Her head whipped to the side and she let out a cry of pain, palm coming up to cradle her cheek. Bucky just watched for a moment before pulling her in front of him and forcing her to fight. They both hated this, but Y/n’s punishment would be ten times worse if he didn’t get enough good hits in. And Y/n preferred to be bruised by him than some old guard with unbridled rage and unchecked anger issues. Not a good mix.

“Was that not the right thing to ask?” How she could joke with a cracked cheekbone and bruised ribs was beyond Bucky, but humour seemed to be her preferred coping mechanism so he let her at it.

“It’s fine.” His words were more of a grumble than anything, but Y/n was used to that. He wanted to help, but you had to read deep between the lines. “I smashed several helicopters and almost killed him.” Wasn’t quite the response Y/n was expecting, or needed, really. “But they did brainwash me so I don’t suppose that helps.”

“Well, kind of?” Bucky narrowed his eyes and ducked, avoiding a punch before sending a kick to the back of Y/n’s knees. She wobbled but stayed upright, kicking him in the ribs to buy herself a couple of seconds of breathing time.

“Why do you ask? Did you see him?” It wasn’t hope that interjected his words, but Y/n noticed a flicker of something she couldn’t place a finger on.

“No, but I saw someone who reminded me of the same thing. Someone I thought I’d lost.” Natasha’s eyes, full of recognition and aspiration filled her mind and for a moment she faltered, lost in the dizzying memory, encapsulated by a flaming halo of hair. The scar in her eyebrow, her full lips, the ash that had settled on her black tactical suit; all flooding back and hitting Y/n like a truck.

She barely realised she was on the ground until she felt Bucky pin her arms above her head. She just stared into his eyes, a crease between her brows, unable to shake Natasha from her mind. Bucky watched her for a second before slapping her across the face.

“I’m sorry. Again.” He helped her to her feet. “But if they find out you know someone on the other side, they’ll do it to you too.” She’d watched many of his brainwashing sessions and even supervised when he’d come out of cryofreeze and none of it looked the slightest bit appealing. “I don’t want that for you.” She was the only good thing about this place and for his own sanity, he couldn’t lose her too.

“They couldn’t do that to me,” she said with a cocky smirk, her eyebrows quirking upwards. “I’m too valuable. Besides, Natalia won’t forget me again and would probably go on a killing spree if that happened.” Bucky shot her a look. “You’re right. That’s more my style.”

Bucky rolled his eyes slightly, unable to smile at her words. He was supposed to be an emotionless killer - they couldn’t know he had a soft spot for her.

“Luckily for you, you won’t see her again,” he said, swiping her legs from underneath her and sending her crashing to the floor. She scowled and scrambled up, jumping to wrap her thighs around his head in an attempt to bring him down. “It’s better that way.”

“Who says I won’t?” Y/n used her momentum to swing herself around, feeling his hands grip her thighs. “I want- I have to see her again. So I will.”

Successfully flooring him with an ‘a-ha’, Y/n straddled his waist and held her forearm to his throat. But she didn’t expect him to suddenly flip them both and mirror her actions, pushing her down into the thin mats and letting the cold seep through her suit as he held her there.

“So what, you’re going to kidnap her?”

Unbothered by her compromised position, Y/n just smirked, relaxing her body as she accepted defeat. “Who said anything about kidnapping?”

~~~

“Natasha, it’s a trap.” Clint was trying to talk some sense into his best friend, who was clearly having none of it.

“You think I don’t know that?” She gave him a look and returned to fixing her belt. “I’m prepared for this, so please stop stressing.”

“Oh, well forgive me for being sceptical seeing as the last time you encountered her she threw a knife into your knee,” Clint remarked with his arms folded over his chest. Natasha just rolled her eyes and stood up, adjusting her collar.

“I’m going to be ok,” she reassured, although her words fell on deaf ears. “I know who I’m dealing with.”

Clint looked into her eyes for a moment, trying to find a hint of doubt behind her bright green irises. But he found nothing but confidence, as usual. “But, do you?”

Whether it was part of her plan, no one knew, but Natasha walked straight into the trap with her head held high. It was easy, too easy. Natasha knew it, Y/n knew it. Yet that changed nothing. The blindfold was tugged from her eyes and she blinked, trying to adjust the dim light above her. The bulb only cast a small pool of light that spread not far from her chair, plunging the rest of the room into an eerie darkness. There was no sound, no gunfire or wind howling, and no windows as far as she could see. But her assessment of her surroundings was cut short when a figure stepped into view.

A small woman, slim, but muscular and toned enough to make it known that she could take down anyone of any size. Her posture was impeccable and she balanced a small blade between her fingers as if it were a feather and not a deadly weapon. Her lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t all that inviting or warm. The yellowy light cast shadows across her face as she observed her hostage for a few seconds.

“I thought interrogations were supposed to be your thing, Natalia.” The way her old name dripped off her tongue was like sweet honey and Natasha clenched her jaw, eyes fixed on the woman prowling in front of her. Sure, she could get out of the ties around her wrists, but something kept her there. A desire to learn more about her. “You gave up pretty easily.”

“You know damn well I didn’t give up,” she spat, glaring up at the woman who was now standing so close their legs brushed. “I came willingly.”

“Oh I know,” the woman said with a smile, tracing the sharpness of the redhead’s jaw with her knife. “You can’t resist me.” Her Russian accent was thick and had Natasha completely transfixed. The tip of the knife trailed down to her collarbones so gently. “I didn’t think it would take years though.”

“I knew where you were.” Not exactly a lie - she’d been tracking Y/n’s work for years. She just didn’t know it was Y/n behind the killing sprees and assassinations.

“You break my heart.” There was a mischievous sparkle behind her eyes and it frustrated Natasha to no end. “Guess you thought you were too good for me now, huh? All caught up in your Avengers business and no time left for me.” She pouted like a child.

Natasha looked up at the dim light above her head before answering. It was cliche really, tied to a chair in the middle of a damp room with only a single string bulb as a light source. But the woman before her was far more calculated than she ever let on, so Natasha knew it was part of some much bigger plan.

“Well I can’t exactly have a coffee with the enemy,” she said sarcastically. “The Avengers would take you in if you stopped murdering people for no reason.”

“Ha!” She spat out, turning back around to face Natasha, her knife spinning casually between her fingers. “Avengers. What a pathetic excuse for an organisation. You think they mean well, and that’s just adorable really.”

“They’re not pathetic.” If there was one thing Natasha was protective about, it was her family. “Take a look at who you work for, you’ll find some pretty pathetic business going on there.”

Y/n’s eyes darkened. “Hydra is not stupid. At least our scientists actually do something useful instead of pottering about building metal suits.” A jab at Tony Stark. Classy.

“Yeah sure, if you call illegal human experimentation ‘useful’.”

Y/n let out a soft laugh. “Don’t get all big and bossy with me,” she replied, watching as Natasha’s stony expression cracked slightly. “The twins signed themselves up, I did nothing.”

“You lured them in.”

“What can I say, I’m irresistible.” She winked at Natasha and disappeared into the shadows, leaving a very disgruntled redhead alone.

To say she was the most annoying person Natasha had ever met was a severe understatement. That woman got under her skin and just festered there, and no amount of focus would ever make her go away.

Whether she was knocked out or drugged, Natasha didn’t know, but when she next woke the room was a lot brighter and her hands were no longer tied behind her back. Y/n sat opposite her, the same blade laying flat in her palm.

“Took you long enough.” This wasn’t the same place as before and Natasha reached for her belt, wanting to feel protected. “Don’t. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“That’s reassuring, considering you kidnapped me.”

Y/n finally looked up and scoffed, pushing her chair back so it scraped harshly across the wooden floorboards. “I did not kidnap you. We went over this Natalia. You came willingly.”

“And then you tied me up.” Natasha gestured to her wrists, now free of course.

“What can I say, I’m into that kind of thing.”

Natasha sighed. This was her chance. She wasn’t restrained, Y/n seemed relaxed and no one else was around. She could save a lot of lives, and her own ass by killing Y/n now. But somehow she couldn’t shake the memory of all the stolen kisses and touches they’d shared within the icy confines of the Red Room. How that young girl had been through so much and yet still felt so familiar sitting in the chair opposite.

“Y/n,” she started, switching her approach completely. “What happened to you?” The woman looked up, eyes dark, scanning across every inch of the redhead’s face.

“Why would you care anyway?” Her witty sarcasm was gone, replaced by a steel wall behind her eyes that fully blocked Natasha out. The redhead plagued her mind and tugged at the knot in her stomach, but she refused to let it win.

“You were there, and then you left. And I never knew why.”

“No. I didn’t leave. You did, Natalia.” Her tone was accusatory as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You left me alone in that place and you let them take me.”

“I didn’t leave you. They told me you got out, escaped, so I asked to go on more missions. I couldn’t bear it there without you.” Natasha’s voice dropped on the last few words, almost scared to admit her feelings out loud. How could she? The woman she swore to love for the rest of her life had broken her heart to the point where she had never loved anyone since.

“And you believed what they told you?” Natasha said nothing. “Somehow you manage to escape and you don’t come looking for me. We had a promise, Natalia. No matter what, we’d find each other. What happened to that?” Y/n was no longer a deadly Hydra agent gripping the handle of her knife like she was ready to send it flying into a target. No. She was a little girl again, holding onto promises as the last sign of hope in her life. Holding onto Natasha’s pinky finger with her own like their lives depended on it.

Noticing that Natasha didn’t want to break the silence, she continued. “Do you know how hard it is to find work with our skill set? For the ‘good guys’, I mean. You got lucky.” There was a hint of resentment in her words and it hit Natasha in the stomach. “When you tell people you’re an assassin for hire, they usually want to throw you into a penitentiary or shoot you dead right there and then. I had no choice.”

“If you knew where I was, then why didn’t you come and find me?”

Y/n hesitated for a moment. “You didn’t need me ruining what you’ve already got here.” This amount of vulnerability made Y/n’s skin crawl, but all her usual standards seemed to fly out of the window when Natasha was around. It had done ever since they were barely teenagers, soft lips pressed against each other in the gentlest of kisses. The fear of getting caught was worthless when compared to the comfort they had found within each other. “Besides, if I went after an Avenger, we’d both be dead.”

“They gave me a second chance, they would give you one too. You just have to prove it.” Natasha rose from her seat and joined the other woman who had moved to look out of the water-damaged window. “I can see how much you hate it, Y/n.”

“Hate what?”

“Working for Hydra. I can see it.”

Her grip tightened around her knife and Natasha took a step back. “No, they gave me everything.” But her words weren’t as convincing as she intended them to be, her lack of will to live and keep fighting catching up with her. “I owe them everything.”

“But Shield can give you more. You deserve to have something good.” Natasha squared her shoulders and reached out to place a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “No more pain, no more manipulation. You get to call the shots, make your own decisions.” Y/n wasn’t convinced. “We’d get a second chance too.” Her nose scrunched slightly, unable to gauge how Y/n would respond to her last words.

Y/n looked down at her hands, avoiding Natasha’s gaze and trying not to focus on how comforting her touch felt. She stared at the blood that had dried under her fingernails. It never seemed to fade, no matter how hard she scrubbed. She wanted so desperately to run, leave her problems behind like she’d always done. But part of her clung onto the prospect of a second chance with Natalia - she’d craved her warmth for over a decade.

Natasha saw the conflict flicker behind the woman’s eyes, a stark contrast to the sarcastic and confident front she’d put on only hours before. She was exhausted, anyone could see that and Natasha knew all too well what it was like to want to stop running. To stop fighting for other people and start fighting for yourself.

“Why are you doing this? I thought you came here to kill me?” Y/n’s eyes turned icy and she pulled her body away from Natasha, distancing herself once again. But the emotion in her voice couldn’t be masked, and it made Natasha’s expression soften.

“I made a different call.”

Y/n bit her lip, the knife between her fingers spinning rapidly but controlled. “I don’t deserve this second chance, Natalia. Just do what you came to do, earn yourself some more brownie points for the boss.” Her jaw clenched and Natasha pulled her gun from the holster. But instead of firing it, she simply slid it along the dusty floorboards, along with her belt full of weapons. Y/n scoffed at her actions, holding her knife as firmly as she could, but the tremble in her fingers gave her away. She didn’t mean this. Any of it.

“Well that was stupid.”

But her movements were suddenly halted. The door to Natasha’s left crashed down and three figures burst in, firing shots at Y/n before Natasha had a chance to protest. They’d seen the knife and reacted, ignoring the way Natasha yelled at them. The women threw themselves down onto the ground, Natasha shielding Y/n’s body with her own.

“Stand down!” She yelled, holding Y/n against the floor whilst turning over her shoulder. Steve, Clint and Sam stood in the doorway, weapons aimed and pointing at the assassins on the floor. “I didn’t signal anything!”

“You’d been gone for hours Nat, we had no choice. Fury gave the order.” Natasha ignored Clint’s words as Y/n groaned beneath her. Their weapons were still aimed at the Hydra agent despite Natasha’s glare.

The redhead slowly removed her hands and went to help Y/n sit up, but then she noticed the blood. It was visible even through her dark suit and Y/n gingerly pressed her hand to her stomach before pulling it away with a frown.

“I don’t know if we’ll get that second chance, Natalia,” she whispered, looking up at terrified green eyes. “You’ll have to do it on your own.”

“No, don’t say that.” Natasha replaced Y/n’s hands and began to press down on the wound, muttering her apologies as Y/n whined in pain. “You’re going to be ok.”

‘I want to be good, Natalia. I really wanted to be good.” Her words were strained as blood continued to pour from her wounds, coating Natasha’s hands instantly.

“I know, Y/n, I know. You will be, just stay with me please.” She pressed down harder, tears blurring her vision as she felt blood pooling beneath her palms. No one was listening to her cries for help- why weren’t they listening?

Y/n weakly grabbed Natasha’s wrist and pulled her hands off her wound, shaking her head at Natasha’s protests. She could taste metal on her tongue and the redhead’s face faded in and out of focus as she tried to shakily cup her cheek.

“Natalia-”

“No!” Natasha’s lip trembled and she shook her head frantically, pulling her hand away from Y/n/s grip. “You’re not leaving me now, I swear to god. You can be good, I know you can.” Y/n smiled weakly, barely conscious now as blood trickled from her lips. “Please, I just got you back! I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me, I’ll always be here.” Her nose scrunched up at how cheesy it sounded as she reached her hand up to point to Natasha’s chest. “Right here.”

“No, no, no. Don’t talk like that! You’re not giving up on me, Y/n. Pain only makes you stronger, come on!” She was just spewing words now, her sentences all jumbled and barely making sense as she pressed down on the wound. Y/n smiled up at her and tried to squeeze her thigh where her hand rested. But the energy in her body was fading fast and she could do nothing but look Natasha in the eyes in her final moments, wanting to memorise that specific colour one last time.

When her hand slipped to the floor with a thud, Natasha’s heart stopped. An eerie silence fell across the room, the feeling of death weighted like a blanket. The redhead didn’t make a sound, her sobs silent despite the tears trickling down her flushed cheeks. A stark contrast to her pale skin.

“No,” she shakily whispered, pushing Y/n’s hair back out of her face with a bloodied hand. “I’m sorry.” She cupped her bruised cheek and brushed her thumb over it, finally feeling her skin under her hand for the first time in years. It wasn’t as soft as she remembered, years worth of scars destroying the surface, but it was still perfect to her all the same.

Tears mixed with the blood and created a watery mixture that dripped down off Y/n’s chin and into the collar of her suit. Natasha dropped her head to rest on the other woman’s chest, hands moving to grip her shoulders tightly as though she might disappear. The redhead kept muttering apologies, wanting to make up for all the time they’d lost, even if it was fruitless.

The three men in the doorway shifted uncomfortably, the scene before them an unexpected one. “Natasha-“ Clint began, taking a step towards the redhead.

“What did you do?” Her voice was dangerously low and she slowly turned around, Y/n’s hand now clasped in hers. “Look what you did!”

Sam and Steve hung their heads, not wanting to see anymore of the dead woman across the room. Clint was just focused on his distraught best friend, who’s hands now matched the colour of her hair.

“Nat, we need to go-“

“Then go,” she spat. “I’m not leaving her.”

Clint let out a sigh and slung his bow over his shoulder. He gestured to Steve to help, who looked rather uncomfortable but followed anyway. “Well bring her with us-“

“What, so you can parade her in front of Fury and show off? Yes, well done, target eliminated! You don’t touch her!” Natasha was clawing and kicking as Steve pulled her to her feet. She held onto Y/n’s hand for as long as possible before Clint gently tugged it free, triggering an outburst from Natasha.

She was a mess of limbs, uncharacteristically uncoordinated as she struggled against Steve’s body as he guided her out of the room, practically carrying her as she refused to walk. The whole time she screamed out for Y/n, her voice growing more hoarse by the second. She took no interest in her surroundings, the dimly lit stairwell not even registering in her mind. All her spy training had completely vanished.

She was placed onto one of the benches in the jet and she watched, a shaking mess, as Clint placed Y/n’s limp body on the floor opposite, blood no longer pouring from her stomach. Natasha stayed frozen in her seat, knees pulled up to her chest as a defence mechanism. She didn’t care that there was blood on her hands, nor that it transferred onto her cheek when she wiped her nose. No, she didn’t care about anything except the woman lying in front of her.

The lifeless woman.

She wanted to scream but it was as if all the emotions had drained out of her body like a flood. She was numb, just staring with empty eyes, the light behind them barely flickering now. Clint shot worried glances in her direction once the jet was in the sky, and Steve and Sam stayed well away, not wanting to fall under the wrath of an extremely angry and emotional Natasha.

Not that she cared what the others did. She just wanted the one thing she couldn’t have. Fate had shown her time and time again that it was not on her side, but this truly was her final straw. There was no fixing this.

They had found and lost each other within the space of a months. But this time there were no second chances. It was set in stone, just like Y/n’s name would be for the rest of time.

Maybe, in another lifetime, they would finally meet again.

Maybe, in another universe, Natasha Romanoff could truly be happy.

[thebadboyfanclub]

Lead The Way (Aemond x Reader)

So I wanted to write something that was inspired by the kind of love morticia and Gomez had so this is what I came up with, it’s very rare that I find something completely fluffy for Aemond, I hope you guys feel like this as well

The love that (y/n) Dayne and Aemond Targaryen held for one another remained in history for centuries, the couple had seemed to fall in love at first sight.

(Y/n) had been invited to court for Heleanas and Aegons wedding, a young girl at the time dressed in her house colors of purple, her hair was up in a fancy style so you could see the mixture of silver hair with her raven black locks, Aemond had stared at her hair for the entire ceremony, to him it resembled like the gold locks were lighting that struck the earth, she was perfect as she stood with her shoulders held back and whispered stuff to her friend that was the second daughter of the Martell line.

How could have Aemond known (y/n) was whispering about him? She was taken by the prince with the long Maine and the mysterious eye patch, she found the scar utterly intriguing and almost fitting for the frame of his face, scars tell a story and (y/n) wanted to read all about it.

“Pardon for the intrusion, could I ask for the lady (y/n)s hand for a dance?”

“Lead the way, my prince”

They did not utter a word for the entirety of the dance, they just gawked at one another with a smirk, it was like their souls were twirling around as the other couples felt like they were interrupting a wonderful union that blossomed in front of everyone’s eyes, they moved like one, and gazed in each other's hues like they knew everything about the other.

“I believe this wedding is only the beginning for my family”

“I believe so”

Otto agreed with his daughter, the scene that was unfolding could not say otherwise, the two younglings were made from the same cloth and fate finally managed to stitch them together, what was the problem was that (y/n) was the intended for Lord Blackmont, the buzz that was created behind (y/n)s absence on the boat that escorted the others back to Dorne was scandalous, to say the least.

Alas, the Martells stepped in and allowed the new match to occur, everyone expected the wedding to be in King's Landing, but to everyone’s surprise, the wedding took place in Dorne, (y/n)s homeland, the queen's words of concern fell on deaf ears, Aemond had been completed bewitched by his lady wife so whatever said went.

“She misses her home, I will make this gift to her”

Aemond had simply responded to Alicent, he did not care about anything besides her, his wonderful wife from Dorne that painted her lips red and smelled like honey, the way he looked at her brought everyone in awe, (y/n) was the most precious thing that Aemond could reach.

“How does it feel to be a part of the Targaryen line?”

“I must say I believe you are the perfect match for my first husband”

She joked before Aemond brought her to sit on his lap, the court had raved about how affectionate the prince was with his lady wife, always having her arms reach and placing kisses on her hands, cheeks, and lips, sometimes he would even grace her long hair like he was caressing the finest of silks.

Even Vhagar had taken a liking to the Dayne lady, letting her ride on her back with Aemond and sniffing her around when she was staring close enough, Aemond was the only one from his family that was blessed with the true love of a woman.

“Good morrow, apologies for being late we got distracted”

Aemond explained as he escorted his lady wife who had flustered cheeks and a playful smile on her face, Aegon let out a chuckle at the sight of the couple that acted as if they had just met even after years had passed, Alicent did not speak, (y/n) had brought joy to her boys' life but she still did not appreciate such public displays of affection, he was a prince, not a commoner.

“How are you, good sister?”

“The babe has been quiet today, hopefully, the birth will be as swift as the last one”

“You are glowing, pregnancy sits well with you”

“Indeed, maybe you will have the same glow, soon enough”

Alicent was a polite woman for most of the time, still, the whispers over (y/n)s flat stomach after being married for more than a year was like a cloud that collected storms over her head, Aemond and (y/n) had discussed it and agreed that it wasn’t a necessity to have children if they were meant to be parents it will come on its own.

Aemond only leaned closer and brought his wife's hand to him, as a sign of support and to take the lead in the conversation, he did not take well on the small remarks that anyone threw at his (y/n).

“My (y/n) glows every morrow and night, not that my sister does not but I must say that I enjoy having her affections all to myself, some could even call me too greedy to have a child”

Aemond explained and winked at his wife before he took every single tip of her fingers from her right hand and gave it a gentle kiss leaving last the back of her palm whilst (y/n) smiled at him and cheekily scrunched her nose.

Alicent did not hate (y/n), on the contrary she thought (y/n) was a wonderful wife and Aemond was happy so as a mother all she needed was to see her child content, their love ran deep, deep enough to make the servants spread rumours and speculations across kings landings that (y/n) had secretly been giving Aemond a love potion to drink every night, to keep him by her side.

(Y/n) laughed at the accusations, she thought it was somewhat grim but with a splash of humour that people found it so peculiar for a man to adore his lady wife and be loyal to her that she must be a witch, she must have been scheming cause there is no way for a man to be honourable.

“I must say brother I never expected you to be so… erotically tireless”

“This is not a subject to be discussed at the table”

Alicent cut the conversation short much to (y/n)s amusement. A part of her felt pity for the queen, forced to marry a man twice her age and took a wild guess that her beddings were taken more as a duty of a husband and wife than a pleasurable act between lovers, still to be so visibly discussed by the simple mention of laying with your husband was baffling to (y/n).

“Lord Blackmont send a raven today, his wife has birthed him a son”

“Mother, I thought I made myself clear when I said to never mention that name again”

“My dear do not scold your mother I am certain she meant no harm”

“You were his intended”

“Well I was a young girl and I liked the way his eyes were so dark you could not recognize where his pupil started”

“Please, promise me to never speak of him”

“I promise, Ñuha jorrāelagon” (my love)

(Y/n) pressed on Aemonds soft spot, she learned Valyrian just for him and Aemond adored the way it rolled off her tongue, often he would ask her to read books of anything in Valyrian just to listen to her poetic voice fill his ears like the best of music ever known to man.

Aemond leaned even further to her and snaked his arm around her just so he can rest his lips on her cheek, some would swear that Aemonds lips were dripping syrup from how sweet he was being with (y/n).

“Now, time for something with substance, my dearest love, I know I could never replace the wonderful starlight but allow me to try with this”

Starlight was (y/n)s horse that her father had gifted to her for her name day, (y/n) and Starlight shared a bond like no other, unfortunately, his hoof was infected and brought Starlight immense pain, (y/n) cried for the entire day.

Aemond raised his hand and motioned to the servant to come around with this big box, the others had to take (y/n)s plates aside so it won’t break anything, curiosity overwhelmed her enough to get up from her chair and gently open the lid, revealing the most adorable little kitten that meowed loudly, it could not have been more than a week old, she yelped from excitement as she picked it up to admire the all-black little thing that had bright eyes and somewhat tried to claw at her from fear of the new environment.

“Oh my love, it is perfect”

“Brother you exceed everyone’s expectations every time, that is such a thoughtful gift”

Heleana praised her brother, (y/n) nodded in agreement to her good sister and brought the kitty close to her chest after she kissed it on top of his head.

“I am a mere man that wants to make his wife happy, what should we name her?”

“Nightfall”

“Very fitting”

“She is probably hungry and scared, poor thing, we should ask for milk from the kitchen, come with me, my love”

“Excuse us, we have a new baby to tend to”

Aemond rushed to explain as he skipped towards his wife who was running out the door, both of them giggling from excitement for the new member of their family.

It was a certain odd sensation, after the loud shut of the door it almost felt like they had taken the light out of the room with them, leaving Heleana who only cared for her children and suffered through a marriage of convenience, Aegon who scoffed at duty and anything that had to do with his family and only seemed to lighten up when he was intoxicated and queen Alicent, a creation of her father as Otto pulled the strings and Alicent obliged by anything he made her believe to be true.

Per (y/n)s request a small bowl of milk was brought to her in their shared chambers and little nightfall was drinking and purring on their bed while (y/n) was petting her, to even think that such a small thing would make the lady jump up and down from joy and turn to a young girl again, Aemond was content with admiring (y/n) that was as bright as the sun, laying next to the small creature with her hair scattered on the sheets.

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic”

“Wonderful, that is all I needed to hear, now nightfall will continue to drink her milk on the floor”

Aemond carefully took the kitten in his hands along with the bowl and placed it on the side before he jumped on the bed and positioned himself on top of (y/n) who giggled at the sneaky attack of her husband, still when Aemond leaned to kiss her she replied with the same affection that she always did.

“And I will finally get to enjoy my wife”

“You “enjoyed your wife” before we went to break our fast”

“Yes but that seems like an eternity ago”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed my sweet I believe if you do not kiss me I will just simply perish away”

“Oh we can’t let that happen now”

Aemond was known to be a stoic character, a prince that was hard to read and extremely unpredictable, ever since the eye incident he had stepped away from the concept of friendships or any type of bonds that did not include his immediate family members, that was only true when (y/n) was not around, the second she would strut in a room Aemond dropped everything to be by her side and kiss some part of her body.

(Y/n) on her end was the definition of a loving wife, she advised him, and even though she was more shuttle with the acts of love everyone would notice it, how she would not allow anyone to bathe him, how she would attend to every single one of his sword training, even learning Valyrian for him.

“I wish to talk about the subject your mother brought up”

“There is nothing-“

“I would love to have a babe but-“

“Heleana is about to give birth to another child, our nephew or niece will soon grace us, if we have our own it will be a lovely matter, until then we shall spoil them”

He reassured her, a smile of relief was painted on her face and Aemond kissed her once again on the lips, and nose so he can end on her forehead, the euphoric sensation of being able to firmly say that her lord husband knows that the fate of getting pregnant is not entirely in your hands is something only a handful of ladies could speak about, (y/n) allowed her hand to go up and leave a gentle caress on Aemonds cheek that he wholeheartedly accepted and even leaned to her palm.

“I meant what I said to my mother, I like having your devoted attention”

His voice was hushed as he stared deeply into her eyes in order to make her believe that he meant every word of what he was saying, he would kill for her, he would die for her, anything in order to make certain she was happy and safe Aemond was willing to do, (y/n) was Aemonds sanctuary away from all that could sadden him, if it weren’t for her Aemond would have been stuck to a loveless marriage like the one his mother had suffered through.

“Well then allow me to show you the benefits of that, my prince”

Requests are open!

[crypticandmachiavellianaugustine]

For your love

Ruhn Danaan x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Ruhn had been strangers, lovers and then exes and then lovers again. (Listened to For your love by Maneskin an ungodly amount of times while writing this).

Warnings: some angst, some smut, mentions of smoking and alcohol.

English is not my first language so if you find a mistake you know why. Second time writing something with smut in it, not sure if it is readable.

_______

The first time they had met, Ruhn was looking for his sister and the last thing he had expected to find in Bryce's kitchen was an unknown girl with a white sun dress all embroidered with tiny forget-me-not flowers, baking biscuits and talking to a cat who was apparently listening with great interest to her monologue.

When she had turned around and found the Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae staring at her in disbelief she had almost made ruinously fall to the ground a tray of her freshly out of the oven creations.

After a rather awkward introduction she had let him know, with a shy voice, that Bryce would return in about half an hour. Then she had offered him a biscuit.

The second time had been at a bar. She was sitting at the counter with a drink and a stock of important looking papers. She almost looked like another person, long gone was her almost naive persona after a few months living in Lunathion, she resembled in all and for all the serious academic that she actually was. He had taken it as a challenge to sway that serious looking girl, with her glasses and burgundy suit, away from her documents and the old fashioned whiskey she was swirling distractingly.

She had glared at him with eyes that promised storms and blizzards when Ruhn had greeted her, buying her another old fashioned and almost retreating to more approachable company. Still the evening had ended in his bed, a veil of sweat covering them both as she rode him right into their umpteenth orgasm of the night. Her hands tugging at his hair firmly everytime their lips smashed into each other, while his were grasping the soft flesh of her thighs, her malleable and rich of curves body driving him to madness.

And then the next morning they went their separate ways, she rarely thought of him for the year that went by from their second and their third encounter.

She was at a party, smoking alone in a corner of the terrace, observing the rather amusing little scenes in front of her. She enjoyed being the observer, unnoticed and free. She didn't know that she was being observed attentively and that her privilege of detached spectator was coming to an end.

Ruhn had struck a conversation with her rather smoothly and before she could even realise what was happening she had fallen again into that game of taunting and flirting that had made them end up exploring each other in a bar's back room and later in his bed one year before.

Their playful conversation was flowing like the champagne she had been drinking and as he leaned in to whisper something quite outrageous in her ear, her fingers flexed, accidentally touching his hand with the same lightness of a feather.

She had grabbed his hand deciding that they needed to dance. The green of her dress was that of a vemonus snake, glistening under the dim lights, the shiny fabric falling softly on the curves he had traced, kissed, savoured a year before.

Ruhn's mouth fell open at the sight of her leading him to the dancefloor with the confidence of a siren who had just ripped out a mortal's heart to bury in the seabed.

The music was loud and hypnotic, and she moved sinuously close to him, teasing and grazing her hands all over his body while he slid his fingers on her naked back. They had ended up yet again locked in a room that neither of them owned, with the muffled sounds of a crowd on the other side of the door.

Once again they had found themselves on some couch with her straddling his lap, his hands trailing the skirt of her dress up her legs, her hands undoing his pants before they both found relief to their craving for each other that had started when they had ended up alone together after a year.

"We should do this again sometime," she had heard Ruhn mutter later that night, they were still on that couch, laying in silence.

So they did and suddenly casualty became dating and then it turned into something she could not explain. And then it ended and again they had found separate paths to take. Even for love it was impossible to find common ground in two lives that ran in opposite directions.

_

Y/N felt like they both should have been ashamed by how the night was going, she and Ruhn flirting and teasing each other with the excuse of catching up while both of their dates were darting them murderous looks from across the room, though shame was the last in her list of feelings in that moment.

She felt good, the break-up didn't sting as much anymore and it seemed like they both needed to linger in the nostalgia for their past passion and closeness.

She also felt that it would be a pity to waste her red dress, with its deep cleavage and the fabric that wrapped her body softly, on the dull guy she had decided to go out with because she had been bored.

A pomegranate shaped pendant, made of gold and rubies, was laying in between her breasts and Ruhn had certainly shown more appreciation for the little detail than her date, the prince's eyes indulging in an indecent look at her cleavage too often.

She was playing with Ruhn's long raven hair as they drank and talked, his hand had found its place on her waist, squeezing her lightly.

In the dead of night they had found themselves laying together silently, the red dress had been thrown somewhere in Ruhn's room, and what was supposed to be just passion between past lovers had become something worse, intimacy.

At first they had barged through his door, their lips engaged in a fight for dominance, and their clothes being carelessly ripped off.

Ruhn had made her his against the door, on his desk and then finally on his bed. Then with her hands firmly gripping the headboard, he had grabbed her thighs and planted her on his face, his lips and his tongue working on her swollen bud, making a mess out of her with ease. She had whimpered silently when she had felt his lip ring bushing against her most sensitive spot. The prince had kept her sat on his face for a long while, making her come undone until she could not take it anymore.

Melancholy had made it's way into their minds when they were laying facing each other, like they had done many times in their shared past. It felt heartbreakingly intimate, to know someone so deeply for some time and then know almost nothing about them, just to run to the crossroad as soon as their paths had got close again.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was her imagination, but she could had sworn that in her state of drowsiness, Ruhn had pressed a kiss on her forehead, and whispered something she could not quite catch.

"For your love, I'll do whatever you want".

[bridgyrose]

Weiss sank her sharp teeth into the roasted chicken that Ruby had brought for her, a small moan leaving her lips as her tail wagged. She savored the taste with each bite while trying to keep herself from tearing into it as her instincts wanted. “This is better than what I’ve had in months!” 

“What do you normally eat then?” Ruby asked as she sat down next to Weiss. 

“Rabbits, deer… and sometimes when I’m close enough to a village I’ll trade favors for food. Stuff like doing chores for people or killing grimm.” 

“Then why not stay closer to the villages? Sounds like you get a good deal out of it.” 

“Because I’m a monster as far as any of them are concerned.” Weiss took another ravenous bite of her chicken. “And besides, its hard to keep myself looking human enough to not draw attention to me being a werewolf.” 

Ruby nodded and watched Weiss. “So how exactly did you get like���- she motioned her hands around Weiss- “like this?” 

Weiss paused mid bite as she looked at Ruby. She slowly lowered her chicken and sighed as she pulled up a sleeve to show the scarred bite mark. “It… was a training accident. No one knew that one of the students I was training with was a wolf and… well… you saw how I reacted to getting touched by a little silver. I’m sure you can imagine what would happen if I’m struck with it.” 

“Training… were you training to be a huntress?” 

“I was. Father didnt like it, but it felt like the right path for me at the time. But after I was bit and shifted the following full moon, I ran away from home. I tried to go back a couple years after to take the exam to get into one of the academies, but there ended up being another full moon the night before and… well… I ended up attacking someone.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ruby said quietly. “How… how long have you been on your own then?” 

“About ten years.” Weiss went back to eating her chicken, practically crunching on the bones. “Long enough for me to take up my own training and work on my own.” 

“Must be rough.” 

Weiss shrugged and finished off the chicken she’d been given. She licked her lips and took a deep breath to try to focus on her human form, feeling her ears and tail disappear for the moment. Even after years of trying to pass as human, the form still felt foreign to her. And yet, it still felt more comfortable to be in around Ruby. Not that she ever felt uncomfortable around her in the hours since they first met. 

A small blush crossed her cheeks as she thought a bit more about Ruby. The girl was easy to talk to, didnt seem to be scared of her being a wolf, and cute to top it all off. “What about you? Did you train to be a huntress?” 

“I did,” Ruby answered. “Everyone in my family trained to be a huntsman. My sister and I attended Beacon together, though she went off with her girlfriend after we graduated. My mom and dad were on the same team too when they were in training, and the stories he told me of her made me want to be the huntress I am today.” 

“You do realize that means hunting down monsters like me, right?” 

“Well, yes, but… monsters like you are still people. You deserve to live a peaceful life, even if it means you cant be near the kingdoms.” 

Weiss smiled a bit and looked away from Ruby as her blush started to fade. “If only others could be like you. But the reality is that nobody wants anything that resembles a monster or a grimm nearby. And even if people were okay with me here, it wouldnt matter once the full moon came around. I… I still lose control.” 

“Then why not stay here with me until you have control?” 

Weiss went quiet as she looked over at Ruby again, not quite sure what to think. It’d be nice to have a place to call home, even if it’d only be for a while. But the thought of sharing a home with Ruby, staying with someone as kind as her… 

Her blush came back as she looked away, voice cracking briefly as she spoke. “I-I couldnt… I might hurt you on the full moon or bring people to you that might want to hurt you for taking me in-” 

“It’ll be fine,” Ruby said with a smile, offering a hand to Weiss. “I have a cabin in Patch that we can stay at. Far enough away from people that you wont be bothered and there’s plenty of space so when the full moon comes around, you can keep your distance if you’re that worried.” 

Weiss slowly reached for Ruby’s hand, tempted by the offer. A place to finally call home. A place she could finally be at peace and left alone for a few months. And yet, she couldnt find it in her to take Ruby’s hand, to take the offer that she was given. She slowly pulled her hand away, almost lingering until clutched her cloak. “I-I want to, but I cant.” 

“I dont understand. You could finally have the peace you want-” 

“And all I’d do is hurt you.” Weiss closed her cloak and pulled the hood over. “I should go. I wouldnt want you to get in trouble for being with me.” 

Ruby reached out to Weiss. “W-wait! Weiss!” 

Weiss pulled away as she felt Ruby’s fingers brush against her shoulder, her body freezing for just a moment as she took a quick look back at Ruby before running off into the woods. She felt her heart race the further she went, a few tears running down her cheeks at the thought of avoiding Ruby. But if it was the only way to keep her safe, then so be it. 

She’d avoid Ruby for as long as she’d need.

Prev

[infamous-light]

Just Believe

Mother Miranda x Gender Neutral Reader

AO3: Just Believe

Summary: Mother Miranda's perceptive gaze didn't miss the doubt that lingered like a shadow within the recesses of your mind during one of her sermons.

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Dub-con kissing

The village center bustled with activity, yet a heaviness weighed on your heart. Doubts had been gnawing at your thoughts recently like a persistent itch that couldn’t be scratched. The rituals, the chants, the unwavering devotion of your fellow villagers – they have always been the cornerstones of your existence.

As you stood inside the church, watching the villagers pile in, a nagging question formed in your mind:

Was this truly the path you wanted to follow?

Amid your contemplation, a graceful presence swept into the church, interrupting your thoughts. The soft rustling of fabric announced Mother Miranda’s approach, her tall figure casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the nave and the pews.

Mother Miranda stood before the grand pulpit in her black robes, the fabric draped around her form, almost as if it had been molded to fit her. A stole of intricately woven silver patterns fell over her shoulders, catching the light in a way that seemed to make it shimmer like liquid moonlight. A large halo rested behind her head, adorned with intricate patterns and a single eye sat atop it, gazing down like an all-knowing sentinel. But it was the golden mask that caught your eye. It resembled a bird's face, its features delicately sculpted with precision and care, a creation that transformed her visage into a work of art. Her presence commanded attention, an embodiment of both authority and charisma.

Everything went silent.

The service began as Mother Miranda preached about the Black God. With a voice that resonated like a mellifluous melody, the words she spoke flowed like a river of wisdom and devotion. She spoke of unity, of purpose, of the divine path that guided their lives.

Her words carried a weight that struck deep within each heart present, invoking a sense of connection to something greater than themselves. The villagers hung on her every word; their faith cemented by Mother Miranda’s conviction.

Though her words were convincing, a flicker of uncertainty remained. As Mother Miranda’s sermon wove its narrative, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story, more to the Black God than what met the eye. Your doubts continued to linger like a whisper of truth to be heard amidst the fervor of devotion.

While Mother Miranda’s discourse pressed on, your gaze wandered over the faces of the villagers seated around you, finally coming to rest upon her masked visage once more. At that moment, her eyes met yours. It was as if an invisible thread drew your eyes to her and in that instant, the world around you blurred, leaving only her figure in sharp focus. Your heartbeat quickened and then stilled as if time itself had momentarily ceased to flow.

There was an intensity in her gaze, an unwavering focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Those ice-blue eyes of hers locked onto your conflicted expression and it was as if she could see straight through the façade you had constructed.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment passed. The world came rushing back, the ambient sounds regained their volume and you found yourself once again amidst the congregation.

As Mother Miranda’s sermon reached its crescendo, you couldn’t shake the feeling that her gaze had been more than just a passing glance. You were left to grapple with the realization that Mother Miranda’s attention had fixated on you, specifically. It was as though her gaze had pierced through the sea of villagers and found you, unveiling a secret you hadn't shared with anyone.

A look that seemed to say she knew.

The villagers around you began to stir, their movements synchronized as they prepared to depart the church, their faces carrying expressions of renewed faith. Just as the last of the villagers started to file out the arched entrance, your peripheral vision caught a glimpse of movement. It was her – Mother Miranda.

“You there. Stay.”

Her words echoed throughout the church, carrying an air of authority that seemed to command even the very air to halt.

Her robes billowed with a quiet elegance as she moved forward, each step deliberate and measured. The sense of isolation was palpable as she approached, the space around you narrowed to encompass only her and you.

She stopped a few paces away, her eyes fixed on yours.

“Mother Miranda,” you croaked out. Your voice betrayed the nervousness that had settled into your bones. Your throat was parched, her name emerging as if pulled from the depths of a desert. “How may I help you?”

A slow, knowing smile appeared on the lips of Mother Miranda as you uttered your question. The curve of her mouth held both a hint of amusement and a glint of something darker. Her eyes, like twin abysses, seemed to pierce through the layers of your uncertainty, exposing the vulnerable core that doubt had etched within you.

"How may you help me?" she echoed, her voice a melodic blend of honeyed persuasion and underlying malice. "My dear child, there is nothing you can do to help me.” She continued, her eyes never leaving yours. “I sensed something in your gaze during the sermon. A flicker of uncertainty perhaps?”

Her words hung in the air; a challenge masked in the form of a question. The weight of your doubts and uncertainties pressed down on you but the fear of Mother Miranda’s potential wrath loomed even larger. The thought of admitting your faltering belief to her seemed like stepping onto a precipice, one that could lead to consequences you could not predict.

“Of course not, Mother Miranda,” your voice emerged, carefully measured, an attempt to steady the unease that churned within you. “The sermon was powerful, as always. Your words have a way of reaffirming our devotion.”

Her expression remained inscrutable, a mask that betrayed nothing of the thoughts that roiled beneath.

“Is that so?” she replied, her tone a delicate balance between skepticism and amusement. “You’re quite bold to lie to me.”

She took a step closer. The walls of the church, once familiar and comforting, now seemed to close in around you, backing you into a corner. Your back pressed against the cool, ancient stones, a sensation that mirrored the chill that had crept into your heart.

And then, she was before you, a towering figure that seemed to eclipse even the shadows that clung to the corners of the church. Her presence was both overwhelming and suffocating, like the weight of a thousand watchful eyes upon you. As Mother Miranda looked down upon you, a predator assessing its prey, the true magnitude of her power became palpable.

You were a pawn on her chessboard, an unwitting player in a game that transcended mortal understanding.

“I apologize, Mother Miranda,” you managed to stutter out, your voice trembling with the weight of admission. “I was afraid of telling you the truth.”

Her response was immediate. The tip of a gold-clawed index finger rested on your lips, a gesture that was both intimate and intrusive. “Be quiet.” Her command was like a spell, woven with an authority that demanded unquestioning obedience.

Your voice had been stilled; your agency was stripped away by her insidious influence.

“Doubt is a natural progression on the path of devotion. It is through questioning that one finds deeper understanding.” Mother Miranda intoned. The candlelight danced upon her features, casting fleeting shadows that seemed to morph her visage into something both ethereal and foreboding. “You see, doubt can be a catalyst for growth, an opportunity to forge an even stronger connection to the Black God. It is in these moments of uncertainty that true loyalty is tested, and true devotion solidified.”

A subtle pause lingered in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications. Her gaze held you captive, the weight of her words settling like a shroud upon your shoulders. “I have been watching you, my child, seen the doubts that have taken root within your heart. But fear not, for I am here to guide you. To help you navigate the labyrinth of your belief and emerge stronger, more resolute.”

Her words, like tendrils of a seductive incantation, seemed to wrap around you, weaving a narrative that blended the allure of answers with the undertones of obedience. “In time, you shall come to understand that your doubts are part of a greater plan, a plan that will lead you closer to me. Closer to the truth that the Black God offers.”

She extended a slender hand, the fingers adorned with intricate golden ridges that gleamed in the flickering light. “Walk with me, my dear, and I will show you.”

As her fingers brushed against the side of your cheek, a shiver coursed throughout your body. The temptation of her words mingled with the chilling realization of her intent — to draw you into her orbit, to keep you within her watchful gaze. And at that moment, you were faced with a choice, one that could either lead you deeper into her enigmatic embrace or push you to break free from her manipulative grasp.

But was it much of a choice?

At that moment, you made the only logical decision available in such circumstances — a decision driven by the primal instinct to safeguard your own existence.

“Yes, Mother Miranda. I will walk with you.” You said, your voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and submission.

“Excellent.” She purred, the word rolling from her lips like a velvety whisper. The glow in her eyes intensified, the radiance within them seeming to burn brighter.

As the air crackled with tension, her fingers slipped behind her mask and with a subtle movement, she removed the ornate golden bird mask that concealed her features and set it aside. The mask's removal revealed a visage both mysterious and striking, framed by an intricate cascade of platinum blonde hair. Her lips, soft and inviting, curved into a smirk. In the soft candlelight, her porcelain skin seemed to glow, emphasizing the ethereal beauty that she possessed.

Her eyes, those pools of captivating blue, bore into yours with an intensity that mirrored the weight of your shared moment. Her right hand moved toward the nape of your neck, her fingers curling in a slow, deliberate motion as they intertwined with your hair. With a harsh tug, she guided your head backward, causing the breath in your throat to expel.

“You will be a good little follower for me, won’t you?” Mother Miranda’s voice, soft as a caress, brushed against your lips like a beguiling promise.

Her mouth, now dangerously close, hovered in the space between you.

In that instant, you made a decision that seemed to reverberate through the very air. A step that might lead you to a revelation or a chasm of secrets that you couldn't yet fathom.

“Yes, Mother Miranda.” You breathed out, your voice laced with nervousness.

With a sense of anticipation hanging in the air, Mother Miranda leaned in, her breath mingling with yours. The world seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you suspended in time and space. Her lips brushed against yours, a delicate touch that sent delightful shivers down your spine.

Every sensation was heightened—the warmth of her skin against yours, the sweetness of her lips, the tender exchange of breath. In that intimate embrace, the doubts and uncertainties seemed to melt away, leaving only the raw authenticity of the moment.

Mother Miranda smiled against your lips, a tender curve that held a hint of triumph as if she had achieved a pivotal victory in this unspoken exchange.

[fumiyami]

FUMIKAGE TOKOYAMI

HEADCANONS!!

(or an excuse for me to dump all the thoughts my silly little critter mind thinks into your silly little critter mind!!)

1. autism!!! (I don’t have autism but I saw someone on tiktok headcanon him to be autistic so yeah!!!🤩🤩 if i’m not allowed to like headcanon him to have autism since I don’t have it then pls tell me!!)

2. dyslexia! (no specific reason for this just saw someone else headcanon him to have terrible spelling)

3. listens to mitski

4. dark shadow killed someone when they were both younger (possibly his grandad?) and it’s stuck with Fumi [like in that scene in Ep 44 roaring upheaval where when DS was going wild he said “get away from me!! you’ll die!!”☹️☹️]

5. he and dark shadow both had grudges against Hawks during the first week when they met him (birds hold grudges☺️☺️☺️)

6. gives crystals to those he likes (platonically or romantically your choice!!) like penguins do with rocks

7. HATES when someone ignores him. biggest ick ever (kinda canon cuz when Hawks ignored his phone calls and stuff during the vigilante arc and when izuku was just daydreaming about kacchan and accidentally ignored Fumi)

8. definitely got annoyed by class 1A (mostly Mina and Denki) once when he was eating chicken or something and they struck up a conversation about cannibalism (saw this in a fic I think??)

9. once got caught in his room doing a demon ritual (he revelled too much in the dark)

10. if he were looking for a romantic partner, he’d definitely go with someone who’s the complete opposite of him due to most birds liking shiny stuff (probably someone like Aoyama but I’m a multi-shipper so I’m fine with anything!!)

11. speaking about birds, most people think him to be a crow or a raven BUT he more resembles a Koel bird!! (thank you to someone on Tiktok who pointed this out, I will give you my liver☺️☺️)

12. I don’t have many headcanons for his parents but I imagine them to be..not the greatest people ever😰 (thought of this from when he mentioned in the school briefs how he’s never been to an amusement park before and I know that could be considered normal but hear me out u guys🤯🤯 I want my goth son to have angst)

13. favourite colour is purple, favourite number is 7 (I’m tweaking yall)

14. takes Halloween SO seriously (me too bro me too)

15. SOO ticklish but he vowed to take this fact to the grave (only dark shadow knows and they use it against him like “Fumikage if you don’t let me chew on Mr Aizawa’s scarf I’m telling everyone in class 1A that you’re ticklish”) OR SOMETHING

16. maladaptive daydreamer (I’m projecting with this one u guys!!)

17. knows the entire dance to Rock Lobster by The B-52’s on justdance unwillingly

18. his fav song changes a lot but at one point it was Goo Goo Muck by The Cramps

19. has to stop dark shadow from demanding pets from everyone in class 1A (it’s a daily routine)

20. knows a bunch of bird puns (blame the other silly bird man for this one😡😡)

21. won’t let anyone in his room UNLESS he’s super close to them (like how he tried to stop class 1A going into his room in the dorms episode)

22. (aged up Fumi for this one!!) the complete opposite when he’s drunk and/or high (like super chatty, energetic and giggly) is this realistic??? I haven’t been drunk or high before so idk😓

23. tolerates physical touch (like hugs and stuff) but only from those he’s super close to (or all might in that one episode!!)

24. the first time everyone in class 1A saw him without the choker on some of them (mina and denki and possibly Kirishima🤗🤗) asked him where his neck went..

25. absolutely knocked out when sick/feverish!! like incoherent mumbling, just super weak and dizzy and everything!! (I’ve been reading too much sickfics😰)

26. squawks involuntarily when caught super off guard and the first time it happened was in the class 1A dorms in front of everyone and he was so embarrassed he didn’t speak for a week

27. fluent in some random cool language (like Latin or something equally as cool!!😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎)

28. if he did have a human head then he’d dream of having every piercing on there as possible

29. has a mix of human hair and feathers so he’s gotta do like both brushing and washing it with shampoo and conditioner and stuff but also gotta preen with preening oil (birds naturally have that off of their tail feathers I think but like he doesn’t have a tail so😞)

30. you cannot tell me this man isn’t a writer like with the way he speaks it should be canon!! I can imagine him doing poems and stuff but also turning to other ways to write…(he makes sure no one in his life will ever know his AO3 username)

31. favourite sonic character is Shadow the hedgehog

32. stares outside and just zones out which resulted in the time he once accidentally spaced out while staring at someone (a character of your choice) and was so embarrassed after

33. speaking about embarrassment, he gets embarrassed super easy!!

34. is so painfully awkward around most tiny children (he’s warmed up to eri though after finding out they both have a shared love of apples)

35. sometimes cringes on what he says but knows he can’t take it back (it’s okay my son I’ll still platonically love you!!)

36. hates the fact that he’s been asked by people (TODOROKI.) if he’s Hawk’s brother or relative or something but hates it even more how Hawks barely denies it😡

37. gets his gothic mannerisms from both dark crystal (a pro hero who we can assume he idolises who is mentioned in the school briefs i think) but also a relative like an older sister!!

38. has crazy good intuition

39. is really surprised whenever someone mentions how cool or great dark shadow is since he never really heard that growing up (thank you Izuku!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

40. communication is SO important to him

41. finds it really hard to open up because of feeling like a birden (get it? “bird-en”? haha🙁🙁🙁)

42. he’s super close friends with mostly the heteromorphs of 1A like Koda, Shoji and Tsu but also friends with others who aren’t like Iida and Jirou

43. LOVES conspiracy theories

44. doesn’t cry often but when he does then you know it’s serious😞😞

45. HATES the fact that he has teeth (cuz it looks weird considering how he has a beak) so he’s vowed to never smile with his teeth

46. the type of person to say happy birthday the MOMENT it hits midnight on your birthday :))

47. used to be afraid of flying but made sure it wasn’t noticeable in front of Hawks

48. was genuinely surprised when he saw that the ones in 1A who saw dark shadow go wild didn’t like blame him or anything like how others have in the past🤯

49. dark shadow’s name is super simple because Fumikage had to pick it when they first manifested and since I can imagine he was super young when this happened he wasn’t very creative

50. whenever he and dark shadow play any type of board game together, he has to stop DS from eating the pieces when they’re losing

I got kinda unmotivated towards the end since I was so tired when I wrote all this but i’ll probably have more headcanons in the future!!🙀🙀🙀if y’all have any headcanons about him then please comment them cuz I always love hearing more!!

[imogenkol]

— WIP WEDNESDAY

getting the jump on this week’s wip wednesday hoping it motivates me 🤞

during Bix’s recovery post-ferrix, her and Imogen share a bit of an old ritual

“May I?” Imogen asked as she motioned towards her. 

It took a moment for Bix to understand what she was asking permission for, but once she realized Imogen offered assistance with her frustratingly unkempt hair, the mechanic gave a quiet nod. 

Bix always approached her thick, unruly hair with a wide-toothed comb rather than a brush. It prevented the curls from poofing out like a cloud of smoke. Just a few passes through the strands after she woke up tamed her hair enough to braid. Imogen – with her straight silky hair – seemed to know this. Without a comb worthy of the job on hand, she carefully ran her fingers over Bix’s scalp to loosen the tangles. To receive such warm, gentle touches caused Bix to shut her eyes and drink it in as her shoulders involuntarily slumped with a quiet exhale. 

A moment of peace. A moment of genuine comfort.

Then Imogen parted her hair down the middle, sectioning it off over both of her shoulders. She started with the left side first. Bix slowly opened her weary eyes to observe the bounty hunter’s hands begin to methodically part her hair into three more sections before she weaved the strands. 

The pattern was simple, nowhere near the intricate weave that Bix used to practice nearly every single morning before she opened the yard, but the fact Imogen knew how to braid at all kind of surprised her. Bix had never seen her hair in any style even resembling that of a braid, even when it had been pinned back. 

With a small leather cord, Imogen tied off the first braid and went to work on the other. Bix took a few moments to study her like she never has before. The crease between her eyebrows had relaxed despite the utter focus in the woman’s intense, steel gray eyes. Bix followed the angle of her nose down to her slightly parted lips. She missed their softness. She missed the way her breath would come rushing out between them. 

A part of her wondered if she would ever get to feel them the way she has always longed to feel them – tenderly, lovingly, without reservation. Bix wanted a kiss that felt the way Imogen’s hands did running through her hair.

“I hope that is… sufficient,” Imogen announced in an almost bashful tone once she leaned back.

Bix blinked out of her stupor and glanced down at the finished braids. While they were not done by her own hand, they would have served her well enough on a work day. Imogen’s efforts made her feel a little bit more… herself, however fleeting that feeling may be. “Thank you.”

“I admit it has been quite some time since I have braided.” 

“Where’d you learn how?” 

Imogen went still. Bix caught the subtle twitch of her upper lip that would happen whenever she struck a nerve, only now it hadn’t been intentional. She expected the bounty hunter to ignore the question at best and retaliate with a bitter retort at worst, but Imogen instead met her gaze and the twitch turned into a small smile. 

“I once wore one. A small braid over my right shoulder.” She pulled forward a strand of hair from behind her ear as if to show the mechanic the nonexistent braid she spoke of. Bix could still picture what it might have looked like. Now that Imogen described it, she thought perhaps she recalled tales told in her early childhood of young Jedi wearing such braids. “Of course, the rest of my hair was much shorter then. All the way above my shoulders. I hated it.”

Bix let out a short, amused breath. However, unlike Imogen, she found herself rather fond of the mental image she had painted in her mind — that of a young girl with short hair and a braid over her right shoulder, scowl present, those cold eyes as striking as a bolt of lightning.

tag list (ask to be added or removed!):

@adelaidedrubman @florbelles @tommyarashikage @simonxriley @voidika

@kyberinfinitygems @voidbuggg @inafieldofdaisies @statichvm @socially-awkward-skeleton

@aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree

@cassietrn @jackiesarch @a-treides @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto

@katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed

@strangefable @jacobseed

[imagine-this-doesnt-suck]

Dead Doves were Born to be Eaten

YellowJewl

Summary:

Here is chapter 2/2 of the continuation fic to Sleeping with Spiders, I hope you're happy you little nasties. We're back and gorier than ever It's fucked, real fucked. There is murder, smut, violence, if you are not comfortable with these themes, don't worry it's not going to hurt my feelings if you scroll on by, I'll still love you.

Chapter 2

Their ecological role is to be prey,” said some doctor during a nature documentary, you had only turned on for the background noise. “They are born to be eaten, and humans are just one of their predators. Hunting has not caused any decline in the various dove species.” Its true, the bird's populations remain resilient, mostly because of their prolific reproduction methods. They’re basically flying rabbits. Commonly, producing only a pair of eggs for each nest, a mating pair will produce up to five broods of young annually, nesting from March until November. Eggs take just 2 weeks of incubation to hatch.

So in short you don't feel as bad about hunting them as you once did. The guilt that once weighed down your shoulders like a ton of bricks every time you grabbed your rifle for a hunt, that made you suffer through countless, meatless dinner nights with only the vegetables you grew from your amateur garden and instant ramen you had picked up from your bimonthly trip to town, to fill your stomach, had all passed. You were able to rationalize it now. It was okay.

They were born to die and be eaten.

You inhale a breath of crisp air into your lungs, it smells overwhelmingly like the pine trees surrounding you in this moment. As you exhale you take the time to level your rifle and aim while you prepare to shoot.

Since moving up here, so much has changed in these past few months. A part of you was worried that the isolation would get to you, that years of living in the city in your comfy apartment, would have made you too soft for this life. But in truth you loved it. You found your cabin to be cozy and charming. The chirping of birds and the delicate rustle of the leaves caused by the mountain breeze turned out to be quite relaxing while you painted. As far as finding being lonesome went, well…

He did stop by quite often, so you wouldn't say that you were all alone.

You had met him some months ago, right before you had decided to move up here. Your first meeting was… unconventional to say the least. But he had expressed great interest in your artwork and you found his talents to be quite entertaining as well. You wouldn't call it love, in your opinion you were both just a little bit too twisted for such a sentiment, instead a mutual fascination was born the the night the two of you crossed paths. 

Still, who could say that it was merely fascination that led him to your cabin time and time again, only to end up buried between your thighs, bloodied knife in hand and a breathy moan that resembled your name rolling off his tongue. 

You were grateful for him. For he was the one who awakened the real you. There was an ugly truth within you that your parents had shamed into hiding. The part of you that had only ever been let out of her cage when you painted. The girl who loved gore and horror, the girl who created truly horrific and blood curdling pieces, the girl who's toes curled in ecstasy whenever he would plunge a kitchen knife into your abdomen and slowly cut off your air supply as he choked you with only one hand. 

Being with him was like living, breathing art. A verse by one of the greats,  Being touched by him felt like poetry;

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The man was an insatiable sadistic.

And you were a monster.

You entered the log cabin with ease as the door was left open by its former occupant. The strong scent of iron gave away the presence of blood within your home. 

 Without even giving him a glance you let out an amused laugh. "Bringing your work home with you?" You joked.

"Not my home. Your's ." He responds with a smile.

"Hitchhiker or hunter?" You ask, your voice calm and level. It was casual, the conversation had a certain ease to it, as if you were chatting about what you would cook for dinner as you unloaded the groceries. The thought was so sickeningly domestic. 

You dump the dead bird carcasses on your counter.

"Hitchhiker. Picked him up on way here."

He doesn't turn to look at you as he speaks. From the moment you met him, you found the man before you to be unequivocally beautiful. With his raven black hair that falls just above his shoulders in length and frames his pale face and short stature. He was probably just below five foot if you had to guess. But despite his stature he possessed an almost lethal aura about him and when his sharp grey eyes dart to meet yours, fear itself almost made you turn tail and run when you had first encountered him. Now, his back faces you as he hunches over the young man tied and gagged to one of your dining room chairs. 

You approach Feitan from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling him affectionately, "that's hot." You tell him, feeling up his chest from over the long robes he's clothed in.

He grunts. "Mmm..." You continue to nuzzle him while you whisper sweet nothings in his ear. 

With razor sharp precision and speed, your lover plunges the knife into the man, you sigh dreamily. The victim screams out in pain, the stab wound wasn't enough to kill him, it was just deep enough to keep the game going.

In a second chair, you hear a whimper and turn to be greeted with the sight of a young woman, she looks thrown about and frightened. The victim's girlfriend you suspect, sobs as Feitan continues with his torture.

"Stop, please stop!" She begs, "I'll do anything. I'll... I'll give you anything you want." Tears stream down her beet red face, leaving stains of mascara running down her cheeks. A pitiful sight indeed but, one you know the man you are draped over would enjoy quite a bit.

 You turn and smile at her, "hush. He likes it when you scream, I don't recommend it unless you want it to be your turn sooner."

Her pupils dilate in terror as she goes silent, heeding your warning. Leaving the two of you continue to torment the now unconscious man, severing a finger every so often to awaken him from his slumber.

"Let me grab a drink. I'll be right back." You tell him too casually as if the two of you were simply sitting on the couch together watching a movie. You rush to the kitchen and reach into the cupboard to grab something you were saving for a while. Clear liquid sloshes around in the bottle as you giddily rush back to the atrocities in the living room.

You throw your head back as you take a swig of alcohol. It burns your throat on the way down, setting your insides on fire, adding to the heat and excitement you are already feeling.

"Do you enjoy it?"

The question catches you off guard but you quickly recover, "I enjoy every moment I spend with you." You say honestly. You assume he's asking about the work he's brought home and not the small bit of drinking you had indulged in. Though, honestly you do enjoy both. Drinking has become a bit more of a habit for you as you moved out here all alone. And more so since Feitan has so graciously included you in his passion projects. The booze just loosens you up is all, not that you have any inhibitions about your actions but, it does help quiet that still small voice inside that constantly reminds you that you are a monster. Not that you would tell any of this to Feitan.

Feitan looks down at you, surprise finds a home upon his brow. A pair of sharp grey eyes regard you for a moment with such intensity before coming to rest in an amused expression. "You enjoy every moment you spend with me?" He says, his voice showing curiosity, "Then why do you spend so little time with me?" He seems to be in a teasing mood today. A good thing for you.

 You swat his arm and laugh, "because you are always away with your little troupe, doin crime or whatever." You go to take another swig but take a second to drink the moment in instead, strands of raven black hair fall into his face as he leans towards you, smirk peeking out just above his bandana. As your laughter dies down, you feel the slight tinge of pink stain your cheeks.

He reaches his hand out and grabs yours, pulling you close, "I am always away with my little troupe, if I was not, we would see more of each other."

"What do you mean?" The pink in your cheeks fade into a bright cherry red. Something wells up inside you as you ask this question. It's excitement. It's knowing that the next words out of his mouth could mean everything. Could change everything. Up until this moment, you knew the deal, it was just sex accompanied by the mutual enjoyment of the slaughter and gore. You were never going to ask for more but now that the thought was placed in your head, you couldn't help but mull it over. Even you want to feel a connection.

He looks like he's about to reply to your inquiry and you impatiently await his words, when suddenly like nails on a chalkboard, the victim's girlfriend interrupts with her sobbing, "please! Please let us go!" It seems as if she couldn't hold her tongue any longer.

Feitan turns to look at her, a faint smirk on his face. He reaches his hand out and gently squeezes her cheeks as she sobs, forcibly making her purse her lips. "If that is what you want, girly." He says, venom dripping off his sweet words.

You glare at the two as the interaction plays out. Why couldn't the woman just keep quiet? Did she just have to be such an attention whore and ruin your moment? Whatever happened to women supporting women? Annoyed, you pick up a severed finger that the man had lost and walk over to the woman. you frustratedly push past Feitan and stuff the appendage in her mouth and sneer. "There that will shut you up" you say.

She begins to sob as Feitan releases her face, but before she can cough up the foreign object in her mouth, you clap your hand over her mouth and begin to squeeze.

 She begins to choke on the finger.

You let out a delighted chuckle as her eyes start to bulge from their sockets. You make a mental note to try to remember every detail of her now nearly blue face as you think about what a lovely portrait her tear stained visage would make.

Feitan draws you out of your concentration as he wraps his arms around you and begins to feel you up his hand dipping up under your shirt, "you are always so creative" he coos. You feel his other hand wandering down into your pants, but before you can react he begins to squeeze your breasts.

"Ah, you have such nice ones. Pretty little slut" He comments, as he pinches a nipple in between his fingers

 "Horny asshole." You spat before engulfing him in a kiss. The two of you collide in a passionate ferver as you continue to explore each other's bodies, until you have just about felt each other up everywhere.

You moan in ecstasy as you see him grab for his knife. You shiver in anticipation as you await for what you consider the best part of the night.

Your arms tighten around his neck as you move to straddle him. Bucking your hips, you begin to ride him back and forth, the both of you moaning as he tightens his grip on the blade in his hand.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his hair as you try to anchor yourself to reality. Panting, you breathe out, "what was that about wanting to be with me more often?"

"Don't remember…saying that." He grunts out as his fingers dig into your ass cheeks, helping you along as you ride him. He tightens his grip and you swear that he must've drawn blood.

You furrow your brows in frustration. And through the utter ecstasy of being impaled upon the man below you, you stutter out your response, "C-come on. Early- oh fuck yes! Ah! Earlier you at least pretended like you like me " you manage to whine out the words. You feel him stall for a moment. As if your words gave him a reason for pause but, the cold steel finds it's home dangerously close to your jugular.

"I like you... a lot." You are like a deer in the headlights as your eyes widen. You study his face, his demeanor, the tiny subtle movements of his blade, any sign that he was feeding you horse shit. But whether you simply cannot read the man or the woman alone, lost in the woods, wants so desperately to find a connection to anything that she manages to delude herself, you are unable to sniff out the lie

"I like the way you scream." as his knife trails across your jawline. He smirks as the knife flows down your curves line running water. You squeeze your eyes shut and grin wickedly as you fall victim to the extacy of the moment. You scream out as his knife plunges into your stomach. Your back arches as you scream, crying out in pain as your blood pours out of you.

You hear him chuckle. "I think you like the way i cut you up."

"Yes! Yes!" You moan.

He laughs as the blood coats you like a warm blanket.

Your vision begins to blur as you breathe out the forbidden words between you two and whisper, "I love you…"

 You when you finally do awake on your cabin's couch, your wounds are bandaged and the two victims are slumped over in a corner, presumably dead. Feitan meanwhile, is no where to be found.

He must have unsurprisingly ran off. Your fault really. You spooked him, like a deer fleeing from a warning shot. Should have known better than to get too close. Sometimes you just forget yourself though, you start to think of him as a mirror to yourself. Another monster thirsty for blood but seeking something more. But he isn't you. 

You roll off the couch as your stomach growls and you clutch your bandages as you stumble towards the kitchenette. The dove you had shot, waiting patiently for you to turn it into a meal. You recall one time when you had tried to cook dove for Feitan once before. He had just sneered at you, snapping "Don't you ever fucking eat normal food?"

You smile at the memory when you finally make your way to the kitchen table and sit down to eat. And proceed with the day like any other.

The world doesn't stop when Feitan leaves on his trips. You wake up, eat, shower, do your chores around the cabin and garden, hunt, check your traps, and find time to paint. 

Speaking of chores, after you dump your dirty dish into the sink, you set out on cleaning up the mess from the day before. As you leave the cabin you toss your gun sling over your back, figuring you might be able to shoot a few doves down in your downtime. Grabbing a wheelbarrow and shovel you push it towards your front door and begin to load up. You make a point to do these sort of chores in the morning, or else the smell starts to become too bad. 

You wheel your load past your garden and closer to the tree line. You grab your shovel and begin to dig. Birdsong serenades you as sweat beads on your forehead as you work. It has been unusually hot this time of year, normally summer would have already began to make way for autumn by this time past years. Which reminds you, you should probably try to down a few bucks before the end of the season this year. You don't want to be all out of food halfway through winter. Some deer could do you some good.

When you finally decide that the hole is deep enough, you drop your shovel and stretch. Cracking your back as you do so and letting out a yawn. After this you might just take a nap, you deserve it after all.

Turning back to the wheel barrow, you're finally ready. You loop your arms up under the corpse's armpits and pull him from the wheel barrow. He's a bit heavy and you nearly tip over as you drag him towards the hole. You curse yourself for letting him leave you with this part of the job time and time again. He's just like a little kid, refusing to put away his toys after playing. At the edge of the small pit you have the body off the edge and hear it drop to the bottom with a final thud.

You stare at the body in the hole. A bit disappointed, if you had to admit. The scene was just so un-picturesque. Of course, with you having to practically push after dragging, his nearly bloated corpse into the pit, didn't leave much room for the most graceful landing. His face is obscured by the soil that it's buried in, his hind quarters curled awkwardly towards the sky. More humiliating for the dead man than it is eye-catching to you. 

Oh well, time to dump the girlfriend in the pit.

Learning from your past mistakes, you grab the handles of the wheelbarrow in hopes that it would be easier to chuck the second body down the hole this way. After pushing it to the very edge of the pit, you are ready to lift the back end up, until you hear a quiet whimper break through the quiet sounds of nature surrounding you.

You stop cold in your tracks. 

She's still alive.

A strangled sob escapes her and your blood runs cold. This is a first. It's not like Feitan to leave any bodies breathing before leaving your cabin. " Help m-" she chokes on her words along with the blood she coughs up. What are you supposed to do? You're in broad daylight out in open, merely yards away from your cabin's garden. And you've never done this alone. She looks so much more frail with the sun reflecting on her pale sunken skin. When her clouded eyes meet yours, you all but keel over yourself. "You have to help me please."

Unable to break eye contact, you shake your head. "I can't." The woman looks almost ethereal, velvet red blood spilling over her violet bruised lips framed by skin so ghostly, it's practically translucent. As soon as you spoke, her brows knit themselves in distress. Her once comatose limbs rise out of the wheelbarrow like the undead breaking free from the earth. You stumble backwards, away from her as climbs out, you hastily grab your rifle from your back. "My boyfriend he-" on doe like legs she stumbles about looking around frantically until her eyes land on the pit. She drops to her knees. "No…"

You take a tentative step towards her, rifle still raised, as if she truly were a deer that you didn't want to scare off. She's crying, staring into the abyss of her late lover's grave. "What do I- he's gone. He's gone. What do I do?" She's in hysterics when she turns to you.

"Did you love him?" You don't know where the question comes from but it spills out of you none the less. You are met with a gaze you are unable to define. "I guess you could say, love someone too, " you tell her as you step closer to her. 

"Please, please help me." She begs once more. "If you- you say love someone so you- please I don't want to die." Weeping and barely comprehensible. You know what she's asking. She wants you to help her escape. She most likely believes that Feitan will return and make sure she shares her boyfriend's final resting place. And of course, she would need your help, there's no way she would be able to make it out of the forest herself, especially injured and lacking in supplies. 

Some might argue that it would be an act of mercy to allow death to take her instead, like a wounded deer needing to be put out of it's misery, instead of dropping her off at the nearest township.

You are also aware that if she were to ever make it out of these woods, the cabin would be compromised. Even if you were to swear, or scare, her to secrecy, there is no way she would not go seeking medical help, they would start asking questions. The most pressing being the whereabouts of her boyfriend. And that could lead to the authorities looking for Feitan. What if all of this lead to him not coming back to the cabin because he no longer saw it as safe anymore.

The barrel of the gun comes to rest in the middle of her forehead.

Realization hits her like a ton of bricks. Her blood and tear stained face contorts as she she shifts violently from the bargaining phase to anger. "No! You can't do this! You- you monster!"

A soft smile lands on your lips, "I know. But even monsters want to feel a connection." 

A blast rings through the forest. Birds flee from their trees and take to the sky. A corpse falls gracefully into its grave. And you are left with the image of the ethereal woman sprawled across their lover, the picture finally completed, made multitudes better as you stare down the hole at the ghastly image. It will make a lovely painting, you note to grab your sketchbook before night fall so you can capture the sight later.

For now, you take the handles of the wheelbarrow and turn it around, heading towards your cabin's modest garden. You can hear the mourning dove's song above you, as the birds have begun to return to the area after the gunshot rang out. 

The guilt that briefly weighed down your shoulders like a ton of bricks when you were first faced with killing the girl had passed now.You were able to rationalize it now. It was okay.

Sometimes, like doves, people were born to die.

[reflection-s-of-stars]

You are someone I have always known

Or, an Eposette barricade day/birthday fic for the lovely Mina @jewishdainix !!!! Sorry it’s a day late, and I hope you like it!

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

That was as far as their interactions went most days. Cosette would see the flashing of cold blue eyes and a ratty jean jacket, and she’d wave instinctively. Not because she wanted to talk to Eponine, which she didn’t, especially not outside a therapist’s office, but because it was polite.

So Cosette was disturbed, one bright June morning, to realize that Eponine’s absence rattled her immensely.

It had become a comfort to her, it seemed, to see that face every Wednesday. Yes, it was the face of someone from a time she never wanted to relive in a hundred years, but the face itself was unaffected by that time somehow. Her face, her clothes, her walk, the way she nodded her head to say hey or hi or hm, had all become fixtures in Cosette’s life.

This, as has been said, was an unpleasant realization. Just because it’s comforting to have common fixtures in your life doesn’t mean you have to like those fixtures. 

Still, her relief at seeing Eponine walk out the door next Wednesday was noticeable, if not to them both. 

~

“I like your hair.” 

“Thanks.” 

Compliments were new territory. Yes, the electric shade of green Cosette had dyed her hair was shocking, but most of those who saw it just stared. 

She hadn’t gotten the chance to mention it before they were through their respective doors, but she liked Éponine’s hair just as much. It wasn’t dyed, but a muted shade of red that had been regaining a brilliance and a luster that she hadn’t seen before. A stylist wouldn’t have dreamed of touching hair like that with green dye. 

The second unpleasant realization of the last three weeks was that Eponine was so pretty. Like, Greek myth pretty. One of the wood nymphs in the myths storybook her papa had gotten her for whatever reason resembled her. It had told the tale of Ekho, talkative accomplice of Zeus, struck down by Hera and worn away by Narcissus. The doodles of Ekho looked like Éponine’s past life or secret twin. 

That was all Cosette could think about in therapy. She discussed other things: dying her hair, going bowling with Marius (whom she was over, thank you very much) and his friends, seeing her Papa in the suburbs and her mother at the cemetery. But life was routine enough that she could recite it from memory, and what was really on her mind was the fact that the client who left before her looked like a minor goddess in a storybook and had complimented her on her brand-new neon hair. 

Her therapist probably couldn’t tell all that just from listening to her talk. 

~

“Didn’t I see you hanging out with Marius Pontmercy on Sunday?” 

“Yeah, we met up with some of his friends and got ice cream.” 

Cosette’s hair was fading. She’d thought about going blonde, but the risk of looking a bit too much like Enjolras was just a little more than she was willing to take. So she was letting her roots grow out. 

Ice cream had been fun. They couldn’t go to the bar anymore since Grantaire was so set on getting sober, but a root beer float tasted better than normal beer anyway. A strange sensation had been Courfeyrac’s effusive praise of her hair as he craned his left hand for Marius’s right. They had held hands for the whole evening. Cosette had never liked it when Marius wanted to hold her hand for hours on end, but Courfeyrac seemed to like it just fine. 

There was no jealousy involved. Just them, hands clasped like a lock, and her, looking on silently. Eating her ice cream, laughing at Musichetta’s jokes. 

Wishing she could fall in love like that. 

Not with Marius again. That was nice for a few months but she didn’t need to do it again. Just someone, anyone, that would make life’s routines and fixtures feel more hopeful, more special. 

She mentioned it in therapy. Her therapist smiled to himself. That meant something good, it had to. 

That night, like she hadn’t done in years, Cosette made a wish in the fountain at the mall. 

~

“Were you there-“

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

It turned out Eponine lived in the building that Marius and Courfeyrac lived together in. Cosette had seen her going out as she left their place. The hair and eyes weren’t easy to miss, but she only noticed Eponine after the fact because she’d been sobbing like a little kid. 

She said it was nothing, and soon it would be nothing. Yes, Papa was in the hospital for heart trouble but he’d be out soon. No, she couldn’t be too far away from him but she had a place to stay and it was a four-minute drive from the hospital. Yes, it was all going to be just fine. 

It had to be fine, because her Papa was all Cosette had. 

He’d known her mother well, and when she was dying she said he would take care of everything. Everything meant Cosette, and he embraced her like his own. He loved her as much as any father loved his daughter, if not more. And she loved him more, if it was possible, because he’d chosen her of all little girls to love. They stood proud side by side, and they leaned on each other if they needed. 

And Cosette knew she wouldn’t be able to lean on her Papa if everything didn’t turn out fine. 

New routines sprouted from harsh soil. An everyday four-minute drive to the hospital, sitting with Papa, planning out the future if he got better and the future if he didn’t. A second four-minute drive, eating Marius’s leftovers and asking Courfeyrac to go to her place and water her plants. Tumbling asleep at midnight, leaving her phone off do not disturb, waking up tired. 

Seeing Eponine in a new hallway. That bit was nice.

~

“Where’ve you been?”

“All over.”

Papa came home after a three-week stay in the hospital. The doctors had a list of all the things he wasn’t allowed to do, which included living by himself. Cosette was in the process of moving all her things to his house. 

He had told her not to worry, that he was an old man and that these kinds of things would happen. She was young, she ought to enjoy her life. She fought back, she did, but Papa had a way of winning arguments that really made her understand why he was so often compared to an ox.

So, after her long break, Cosette was back in therapy. After this she was going out to get Papa the last of his meds, and after that she would go to sleep no matter what he said or did. 

Routines were blending like dream logic, it seemed. The daily drives were longer, the appointments shorter, and Papa’s habits replaced those of Marius. There weren’t sudden changes, but everything was in a different place now. 

And yet, here was Eponine, headed out of the same door she always was. Like the changing of seasons: Eponine walked past and the sun gleamed. Eponine skipped a Wednesday afternoon and the wind stung Cosette’s face. Her beautiful hair was the spring, her footsteps were the fall. 

A fixture of the spinning of the earth since they were little kids. It wasn’t magic, nor was it destiny. Just Eponine. 

That was better, somehow.

~

“Can I get your number?” 

“How come?” 

“Marius, Courfeyrac and me are going to hang out tonight. I know you know them, I just thought I’d ask if you wanted to go?” 

“You want to hang out with me?”

“Why not?” 

“You know there are a lot of reasons why not, Cosette.” 

“I do.” 

It all just hung in the air for a second. Chill wind. 

“I still want you to come.”

“Does Marius?”

“I don’t see why he’d mind.” 

“What about-“ 

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Cosette said. “But if you do, then I can text you. We can make it a thing.” 

“A thing?”

“A routine. Something we do together.” 

A lot of words went unsaid that day. They didn’t know what would be said, or when, or how. That wasn’t part of the plan. 

“Here,” said Eponine. “Give me your phone and I’ll put it in.” 

Cosette could feel herself smiling. 

They went to the movies with Marius and Courfeyrac that Saturday. The week after that was the bookstore, because it was so close to September already and Eponine needed new textbooks. The wind changed from sweet to minty, but nothing was too much now. The time passed. 

Eponine took Cosette to dye her hair neon green again. 

[chiquitafresa]

hi there, I have a milkshake idea for you

Do you know your drawing about vox? with Alastor & Lucifer & adam& Niffty

The way you drew Vox With them reminds me of (Katarina Claes ) from Anime: My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

for example

Like Very few people who have genuinely met Vox have not been at the very least intrigued by his personality and behaviors, Even when kidnapped, he got to know his captor and immediately struck up a friendship in a short conversation. he has unintentionally charmed many individuals as a result and finds herself surrounded by friends whom he genuinely cares about and vice-versa.

vox is incredibly simple-minded. Despite being a fan of romance novels, he is utterly oblivious to his friends' close affection towards him, both males and females alike. As a result, he often misinterprets the rivalry of his friends who are vying for his attention, usually making incorrect assumptions.

I borrow Some of the lyrics from fandom.com about (Katarina Claes )

Imagine with me that Vox doesn't want to fall in love again Because when he was alive. Vox was with someone he thought they The One to him But the relationship ended badly To the point that Vox doesn't think he deserves to be in love with anyone else again.

When he died and went to hell And became a overlord In years

And one day vox made a decision that he resigns from his position overlord

And he goes far away with Vark Without anyone knowing

I think Vox just wants to be alone with his pet and live a quiet life

Like having his own island In the sea of hell of Greed Ring

Because It's the only place with oceans, I think.

or

Vox goes to the Earth lives among humans Disguised in human form while Vark Disguised as a dark blue dog

What do you think would be everyone's reaction if Vox disappeared?

I didn’t realize the resemblance until you mentioned it! I watched the anime to season 2 so I have to catch up.

anyway-

I LOVE THIS IDEA!

Vox would for sure hate the idea of falling in love both the reason you mentioned AND because he half robot!

He thinks that no one wants a half robot TV demon, not when there’s sinners like Angel dust. Even tho it’s not the case

This fear first came when he fall to hell, many sinners was making fun of him and his TV head before he become an overlord! (All of them are now died)

This was Also around the time he meet Alastor, and since Alastor have a high dislike for modern technology, Alastor might have accidentally enhanced the fear

so it would make sense if he absolutely oblivious because of this! Even tho he read countless books about romance, he himself thinks he will never have something like that. ——————

Okay so this is mostly my personal headcanons on how Vox meet Lucifer and Alastor! He met both of them at a Overlord meeting (when he newly became one) And got along with the both of them (because one is the king of hell and the other is a overlord for decades who wouldn’t want to be their friends?)

This is how Vox also meet Niffty! After getting to know Alastor he introduced Niffty to Vox as well as husk!

This is also how Vox gets his technology to other rings and stores a meeting with heaven!

Now am not sure how Vox would have met Adam, but it either meeting Adam when his a sinner (and then somehow not recognizing him) and Vox decide to take him in.

or having a meeting with the angels to discuss getting Voxtech into heaven (what I was talking about earlier) and convince them to make a partnership to not attack the Vee’s, in turn Vox have to sell half of his soul to Adam. And their relationship want from there. ————————-

NOW I ONLY BRING THIS UP SO YOU KNOW WHY THEY REACT THE WAY THEY DO!

Lucifer would immediately know that Vox want to a different ring, a overlord soul is the most noticeable thing, it suddenly disappearing would catch Lucifer attention instantly.

After hurting down Vox, Lucifer would keep the secret both for Vox and for his own personal reasons. And letting the poor overwork demon his vacation.

Alastor would the Second to notice, not seeing Vox in a few weeks which is weird for the TV demon.

At first Alastor thought he liked the idea of Vox not being around, no more insufferable modern technology and annoying pest. But in short time Alastor grow bored and out right frustrated, why is his rival not fighting him?!

he would go to the Vee’s tower to give Vox a lesson only to find out that he left and never come back months ago.

Knowing that Vox couldn’t have died that easily, Alastor started looking all over pride ring for the TV demon, which slowly makes him more worried and anxious about Vox over time.

Vox was the few things that didn’t change much (other than his appearance) which give comfort to Alastor, him suddenly disappearing? Alastor would have meltdown trying to find him. he knows he can’t say much, he himself left for 7 years because of Lilith deal. (He scared that Vox might be in the same situation)

Niffty is on the same boat with Alastor, helping him trying to find Vox. He was the few people who actually is unaffected by her crazy behavior! She doesn’t want to lose him any time soon.

basically Niffty and Alastor would try everything in their power to find Vox and bring him home, they would continue until they find him or Lucifer break the news to them a year later.

Adam would be the most unaffected if we take the partnership route, which I personally think is how they would meet!

at first he would think Vox is late to their monthly meeting, it wouldn’t be the first time. But after a hour he will realize Vox isn’t coming.

he try texting him only to have nothing back and then come back after a month to see a empty meeting room.

he try to give Vox some privacy and saying things like “I don’t care about that demon!” Or “it whatever”

it will take half a year for Adam to snap and try to find Vox. Tracking Where his soul is and try hurting it down. It tome a while for adam break into the other ring and finally meet Vox again.

in total everyone will freak out and hunt him down to the best of their abilities. ——————

sorry if this is super long! I just want on a rant on how they would meet an how they would react to Vox leaving! :)

(also sorry if there’s any mistake I made, I just rushed this to not forget anything)

[yuseirra]

The idea of Hikaru and Ai being "gods"

There's this idea that struck me about onk.. this whole idea of Ai and Hikaru being gods who don't realize they're ones makes even more sense if you think about the relationships they've formed with other people.

When you look at Hikaru's life, it seems he had close to no one who could understand him, while he had so many people who approached him due to "how good he looks". They just take what he can offer, appreciate him a bit, then leave, and he ends up craving a lot of love from people while having never really found anyone who understands how he feels until he met Ai, who he considers to be the only one who does.

This sort of life he's had strangely resembles of how humans interact with gods. We pray to gods and appreciate them for their abilities, but we never really consider things from their perspective or what they want from us, don't we? They're not really entities we befriend, they're something we worship or admire from a distance. We want them to "look good" and grant wishes for us. (And Hikaru mentions about "wishes being granted" quite often when he appears in front of his kids in the later chapters) In this case, maybe Hikaru IS actually a god who wanted to live alongside people and chose to become one but never really blended in until he met someone who shared a similar fate with his.

Ai seems to have had a kind dad from what's been mentioned in the interview, but when you look at how her mother's treated her, she wasn't a good one, and for a really terrible reason. Ai's mother says that Ai was "too attractive" for her age and she got jealous of her, and her family started to fall apart when the mother's boyfriend(who she started dating after Ai's father passed or left?) started eyeing her. That whole situation is horrible and this doesn't excuse her mom or her bf about anything, but maybe there really was something special about Ai that drew people's attention even from such an age...

An "idol" is worshiped and desired as the ideal figure by their respective admirers. This goes both ways for the "job" idol and the god "idol". If you listen to how the song IDOL goes, there are chants in the background going "You're my savior, my true savior, my saving grace". This is closer to the latter- how you react to an "idol" that's "a picture or object that people pray to as part of their religion", more than "someone who is admired and respected very much". I mean, an idol can be someone's savior, it's not impossible, but to wholeheartedly consider a young person in their teens-early twenties to be the saving grace of one's life, huh... I would suggest it'd make sense for Ai to have some sort of godly powers for that person chanting it to believe such a thing. (Or, it could be that the person who's saying that is Hikaru. She IS literally his savior and that makes sense too)

Earlier, I mentioned about what Hikaru's interactions with other people were like. The relations Ai's formed with others were really similar to how his went as well. No one around her really understood her so deeply, and many wanted her to become the "perfect idol" without any human flaws. Ai's desire to form a heartfelt interaction only started to succeed a little when she had her own children, and she wanted to love Hikaru too, going as far to say he was the first person she wanted to love. I think those two were really similar, perhaps even in more ways than one. Maybe they really were drawn to each other because they are similar entities. People are attracted to them, and they gaze at them, but they don't come to understand them. Who'd try to do that with a god other than the gods themselves? But Ai kept trying, by "giving love" to her "fans". This reminds me of how a god would react to their worshipers, love does go both ways, but the way Ai spreads love feels more like a blessing.

Ai is essentially who gives. She tries her best to meet her followers' expectations with all she has. She actually doesn't seem to wish for a lot in return for her efforts. From what I've seen, her mindset is that if she can love someone, that'd be enough. And that's how a god would react to a human being... Of course, Ai is still "just a normal girl you can find anywhere". It's funny how it's Hikaru who says that because if this theory is correct, Ai and Hikaru's essentially the same type of being. They are gods, but they are also "just normal people". Or it could be that they could be gods who chose to become one and live alongside humans. Anyhow, their lives are full of wishing to obtain and give genuine love. The more human type.

Their names are very interesting when you think about it too, Ai's name is hoshino Ai, which'd mean the "love of a star" and hikaru's name's kamiki hikaru, it has the words "god" and "light" in it.

I've written about the significance of "stars" in onk in another post, and in short, I think the stars are actually "gods" in this universe.

So yeah, some food for thought!

[proxductions]

“Our Illicit Love”

summary: You love him, and he loves you. But some things aren’t just meant to be.

pairings: Draco Malfoy x ! fmuggle reader

wordcount:_

warnings/notes: angst. sorry I haven’t been posting much lately. I’ve been studying a lot but now I can post as much as I did before. I’m going to create this story and relate it to Willow by Taylor Swift. enjoy 🖤

“Illicit love is like a flame, Burning bright but causing pain.”

__

The secret glances gave it away. You thought. Or was it the fact I’ve always smiled at him for no reason?

I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night

Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife

And if it was an open-shut case

I never would've known from that look on your face

Lost in your current like a priceless wine

.

Your gaze shifted to the left, and you noticed him. You both met each other's eyes, and there was a moment of unspoken connection.

He made a gesture that seemed to say "meet me outside before midnight."

“The more that you say

The less I know

Wherever you stray

I follow

I'm begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man

It was time. You knew you had to leave before the clock struck twelve and you knew Draco wasn’t a patient person.

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in

Under the cover of darkness, you crept out of your dormitory and made your way down the spiral staircase.

As if you were a mythical thing

Like you were a trophy or a champion ring

And there was one prize I'd cheat to win

You slipped past the portraits and made your way towards the entrance hall. The castle was eerily quiet. You paused at the entrance hall, listening for any sign of movement before pushing open the heavy wooden door and stepping out into the moonlit night.

The more that you say

The less I know

Wherever you stray

I follow

I'm begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man

The cool air hit your face, and you took a deep breath. Savouring the fact you were all alone.

Or so you thought.

You know that my train could take you home

Anywhere else is hollow

I'm begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man

“Hi,” Draco had said breathily. He practically came out of nowhere and he seemed out of breath.

“What happened?” You had questioned the moment you saw him. You the both started to walk down a steep step.

"Watch yourself," Draco said distractedly. He held your hand and lifted you up so that you wouldn't slip into a muddy puddle.

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

They count me out time and time again

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

But I come back stronger than a 90's trend

"Thank you, but what happened?" you repeated.

"Peeves," he answered, looking back at you as he walked. He gave you a small, stupid grin that conveyed everything you needed to know.

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Now this is an open-shut case

Guess I should've known from the look on your face

Every bait and switch was a work of art

"Oh, did he catch you? What did he try to do now?" you laughed breathily.

"He created this loud noise that almost got me caught," Draco said, slightly mad about the fact but glad you found it funny. He brought the tip of his index finger and thumb together, which resembled a small O, indicating how close he was to getting caught.

"If he had caught me, I wouldn't have spent any time with you," he said teasingly. You both found a nice place to sit, and Draco waited for you to sit first before sitting beside you.

The more that you say

The less I know

Wherever you stray

I follow

I'm begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man

You then nudged him in the ribs and muttered, "Oh, shut it," before laughing. He rubbed his ribs and gave you a look, and everything went quiet.

You know that my train could take you home

Anywhere else is hollow

I'm begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man

"Draco?" you muttered quietly, your hair moving with the gust of wind that was growing harsher.

Draco hummed, listening.

“How long are we going to hide like this? when will your parents accept me?”

Draco sighed. You both had this conversation often.

The more that you say

The less I know

Wherever you stray

I follow

Begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man

"You know my parents don't accept Muggles or half-bloods. Purebloods only, remember? If they ever found out, they would never approve. This is an illicit love, and we would be forced to end things," Draco said before snaking his arm around you.

You know that my train could take you home

Anywhere else is hollow

Begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man

You looked down at your distorted reflection from the lake right next to you and sighed.

"We can't be like this forever, Draco. I want to be with you. We can't keep lying and just say we're friends. You know I don't like that," you said, your voice tinged with sadness.

“I’m sorry,” he had said quietly.

Hey, that's my man

That's my man

Yeah, that's my man

Every bait and switch was a work of art

That's my man

Hey, that's my man

Draco kissed the top of your head. Illicit love was like a flame, it burned bright and it caused pain.

I'm begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man.