#GETTING UP IN MY FACE TO STARE AT ME FROM VARIOUS ANGLES WITH NO EXPLANATION

[dmclemblems]

claude von shooketh

#Three Hopes #Claude #IDK WHY THIS IS JUST SO FUNNY TO ME BUT LIKE. HE KEPT STARING SURPRISED FOR LIKE A MINUTE #BUT THEN AGAIN I'D BE STARING SURPRISED TOO IF SOMEONE WAS #GETTING UP IN MY FACE TO STARE AT ME FROM VARIOUS ANGLES WITH NO EXPLANATION #everyone else posting all these pretty screenshots of him being handsome and IM OVER HERE LIKE #THIS IS WHAT I GOT THIS IS WHAT CLAUDE GAVE ME TO WORK WITH SO HERE U GO

[chaos-is-my-lifeblood]

@attacustheakuma and @crazykarat and I wrote for each other’s fandoms that we Don’t Know Much About. This is the thing I wrote for Miraculous Ladybug :3

ao3

(attacustheakuma’s fic) (crazykarat’s fic)

Adrien was in the middle of serving a customer when the door chime rang. “Coming!” He quickly finished with the customer, and returned to the counter to greet the newcomer with the typical Chat Noir charm.

And then he saw who, exactly, had deigned to grace his humble cat café with their presence.

“Greeting! I, Hawk- that is, Harren Mothim, would like some food.” Adrien highly doubted this ‘Harren Mothim’. For one, they were most certainly Hawkmoth. For two, the fake mustache looked absolutely ridiculous over Hawkmoth’s silvery mask. 

Then again, a customer was a customer… And Adrien may even get an identity out of this, if Hawkmoth used a card to pay. “Of course. What food, pray tell, do you desire?”

That, of all things, put Hawkmoth at a loss to words. “...Ah. Allow me to… peruse the menu, first?”

Adrien bowed. “Indeed, sir Mothim. Select an item at your leisure.” He gave Hawkmoth a menu, sicced a cat to trap him within a booth, and returned to serving the other customers. 

Or autographing their napkins. His identity as Chat Noir was what kept customers coming, after all.

Adrien kept an eye on Hawkmoth. He seemed terrified of the cat, not even letting it approach his corner of the booth. Adrien could see literal sweat dripping down his face, and the flickering of Hawkmoth’s eyes between the menu and the cat obediently crouched on the bench next to him.

Eventually, Hawkmoth stood. The cat didn’t move. Hawkmoth flapped his hands, desperately shooing, to no avail. A whispered argument - after many one-sided exchanges - at last had the cat looking at Adrien for instructions.

Adrien gave a subtle nod. It was amusing seeing the almighty Hawkmoth trapped by a housecat, but he was merciful. 

And he already had a recording, meticulously angled to preserve the other customers’ privacy.

Hawkmoth, careful to skirt around the various cats lying about, approached the counter once more. “I have decided upon my course of action. I require a container of the meringues, and a large coffee.”

Adrien stared, face blank. “We don’t have any of those on the menu.”

“No? Then what are these?” He held up the menu, pointing to two entries.

Adrien continued staring at Hawkmoth. The menu might as well not exist. 

Hawkmoth snarled, before reigning himself in. “Fine. Produce for me the… meowringues and catfee.”

Adrien smiled, wide and cheerful and not at all showing razor sharp teeth. “Well, why didn’t you say so! Go ahead and swipe your card.” He put the order into the register, and watched Hawkmoth reach into his jacket and pull out…

…a wallet.

An awfully familiar wallet. And then a card, with a number that Adrien had long since memorized, and. And.

Adrien pulled himself away from the register, careful to keep his smile up until he was out of sight. He prepared the meringues and coffee by rote, mind distracted by other things.

He tried to resist, he really did. But Hawkmoth was right there… and his dad’s credit card was right there… and Adrien blurted out the question currently destroying his mind and sanity.

“Is Gabriel Agreste your sugar daddy??”

Hawkmoth, order in hand, froze for the briefest moment.

Then he ran out of the building like a demon was after him.

Adrien stared in horror. What has dad been doing since I moved out???

__

Gabriel was not having a good day. The trip to Chat Noir’s cat café had been a complete failure - had the infernal boy somehow seen through Gabriel’s disguise? That was the only possible explanation for his careful guard of the Miraculous of the Black Cat. 

And then there were the consequences. Gabriel could barely see, eyes watering from his allergy and prolonged proximity to the demonic furballs people called ‘cats’. At least Chat Noir didn’t shed everywhere. 

Still, he would have dealt with that a thousand times over if it meant not dealing with… other things. The tabloids had spread Chat Noir’s accusation like wildfire, and Gabriel couldn’t even deny it because… well. The truth wasn’t exactly better.

Though if one more reporter tried to break in, Gabriel might reconsider his stance. 

Gabriel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Rationally, he knew his secret identity was more important than gossip rags’ salacious speculations. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper. He finished off the coffee (not ‘catfee’, that pun wasn’t even good). 

The coffee was good, at least. Not too bitter, not too sweet. Just the way Gabriel liked it, in fact. Quite the coincidence.

He absentmindedly reached for the box of meringues as he read through the latest report by his secretary. Apparently, Ladybug had-

Gabriel spat out the meringue, gagging on the taste.

Had Chat Noir forgotten to add sugar?

#Shoutout to that time my dad made cheesecake and just… forgot the sugar…… #writing #miraculous ladybug #Did Adrien deliberately leave out the sugar? #Did he forget because he was distracted? #Is he always this bad at cooking? #For all three yes.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Yamada: so how did you and izuku start dating

Aizawa: I saw him crush a watermelon with his thighs and I accidentally said out loud “oh god I wish that were me right now” and here we are now

~The way this immediately and completely ate my entire brain~

Of three things Aizawa Shouta is absolutely sure:

One, he simply was not built for operating during the daylight hours. Nighttime really is where it's at in his opinion. The general lack of crowds and eye-searing sunlight just can't be beaten. (Dusk and dawn hours also get a pass but they're both on thin ice.)

Two, the beach is a sandy hell-scape whose only redeeming factor is the convenient access it provides to the eldritch horror that is the ocean aka the place he'll doubtlessly end up drowning himself when he finally, and according to Hizashi inevitably, snaps and runs gibbering mad into the abyss.

And three, he's absolutely and irrevocably cursed. He's being singled out and punished from on high by the gods themselves. His name is writ large across the cosmos in mockery. There is a cosmic "kick me" sign taped to his spiritual back and Shouta's going to hunt his former student Sero down and give him detention for life for encouraging his family's patron god to put it there.

By this point it's really the only logical explanation.

Which, as a card-carrying atheist, he's pretty sure is saying something about the depth of his feelings regarding his current circumstances.

Because there's no other explanation for why or how he's managed to find himself in this current situation.

The situation being, of course, Shouta, in full hero gear, standing in the hot sun on a pristine sandy beach, surrounded by screaming fans as he provides extra security and crowd control for the 20th Annual Heroic Sukiwari Charity Drive.

Shouta has seen hell and it is both Ms. Joke's open mic night and this exact moment right here.

Because, again, he's absolutely 100% cursed.

And the avatar of said curse is, obviously, his soon-to-be ex-best friend who somehow roped him into this entire thing.

Because some people say divine retribution when talking about cosmic revenge plots but Shouta tends to just says Yamada Hizashi. The two are, in many ways, interchangeable.

Shouta's going to put purify salts in all of Hizashi's hair products and also his sugar jar and possibly his energy drinks the next chance he gets.

Because if he never sees another shirtless pro-hero or another watermelon again in his life it'll be too soon.

He's pretty sure he has permanent hearing damage from all of the screaming and screeching the crowd's been doing since this thing started.

And if, after all these years of friendship with the personification of a megaphone, watching a bunch of pro's crush watermelons with nothing but their personal strength on a beach to raise money for various charities is what finally destroys his hearing Shouta is going to shave Hizashi bald before he finally embraces sweet death.

Or enacts Nezu's birthday plans and becomes a supervillain.

The jury's honestly still out at this point.

Shouta does his best to shut out the screaming behind him as one of the cameramen slides up beside him, getting a better angle on the stage as Hizashi, who's currently screeching about Miruko's performance, practically dances across the sand in front of where Shouta's standing.

"Wow, wow, wow," Present Mic chants as he dramatically fans himself, "that was one on heart-stopping, hare-raising show. Let's give it up for everyone's favorite bad, bad, bunny, Miruko!"

For her part, Miruko just struts off the small stage with a nonchalant wave to the crowd, her tiny white bikini in place and the pulverized remains of the half dozen watermelons she'd dropped kicked into soup left behind her.

"But don't lose that rhythm yet listeners," Mic announces gleefully. "Because we've got one more hero set to take the stage! So, without further ado, it's the moment I know a lot of you have been waiting for, myself included if we're being honest. The pièce de résistance of our little shindig, the showstopper himself, the one, the only, the #1 Can Do Hero Dekiru."

The crowd is absolutely deafening.

And, for once, Shouta has to grudgingly admit that he can't actually blame them.

Shirtless, sculpted shoulders and tight abs on display thanks to his low sitting and almost criminally short green swim shorts, and with his trademark bashful smile in place, Dekiru trots out from behind the curtained-off area with a crate of watermelons resting on his shoulder like it's no big deal.

Shouta's pretty sure someone to his immediate right faints but considering they're not currently a trample risk he ignores it.

But the casual show of strength with no quirk use in sight is more than a bit impressive.

For all that people, romance specifically, and attraction in general, have all been things to be considered on a firm case-by-case basis for Shouta, even he has to admit that Dekiru is ... captivating.

Rather drastically so for Shouta considering he's never actually met the man before in person.

Though Shouta does feel like he almost knows him on some level considering the fact that it really would take an act of the actual gods to get Yagi to shut up about his erstwhile protege during staff meetings.

Dekiru waves his free hand at the crowd as he sets his crate of watermelons down on the stage.

"Show us what you've got!" Mic demands from a few feet to Shouta's left. "And let's give him some encouragement listeners!"

The crowd starts up a loud and steady chant of "De~ki~ru!" as the hero pulls his first watermelon out and begins his set.

With an effortless flex of muscles, Dekiru digs his fingers into the watermelon and wrenches it completely in two.

Shouta reaches up to tug at the top of his uniform, relishing the small sip of cool air it grants him.

Shoulders and biceps flexing, another watermelon meets its end between Dekiru's palms.

Shouta really needs to add a water bottle to his utility belt because hydration is important. Or so he's been repeatedly told.

"Those hands, those muscles," Mic groans dramatically. "He really is the Can Do Hero!"

Cheeks noticeably flushed, Dekiru sits down on the stage and fits a watermelon between thick, toned thighs.

His hips twist, those thighs flex, and the watermelon cracks, spilling juice and sweet pink flesh all over Dekiru's lap.

"Oh god," Shouta can't help but say, "I wish that was me right now."

On stage Dekiru's eyes go wide as his attention somehow abruptly zero's in on Shouta.

It's at that moment that Shouta becomes aware of the deafening silence that's fallen over the beach.

Head-turning agonizingly slowly to the left, Shouta's confronted with the sight of Mic, microphone in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

His sunglasses are askew and he's staring at Shouta with a look on his face that's one part horror and one part unholy glee.

As a matter of fact, the entire beach is staring at him in much the same way.

For a moment Shouta just freezes, body going still at having so much attention turned in his direction.

This ... was not the turn he was expecting the day to take by far.

His first instinct is to, honestly, use his scarf to slingshot himself directly into the sun so his soul can be cleansed with cosmic fire.

But then ...

"Ah," Dekiru speaks up from on the stage, one hand ruffling the back of his hair and cheeks darker than before, "maybe we could go on a date first though? If you'd like?"

There's suddenly a part of Shouta that doesn't actually want to delete himself from existence via self-immolation.

And there's an even large part that doesn't want to outright reject Dekiru's seemingly sincere offer.

Because, when it all comes down to it, Dekiru seems to be, by all accounts, what passes for exactly Shouta's type.

Whip-smart if his very public arrest record and tendency to argue online and on the air with people he disagrees with is anything to go by.

Cute, with that dark green hair and sharp undercut, matching wide eyes, and a face sprinkled liberally with freckles.

Leanly built and small enough that Shouta's sure he could move him around easily but obviously muscular enough to be able to put up just the right amount of resistance in the right situation.

And, above all else, if the stories are to be believed, obviously some degree of batshit insane.

More than one story Yagi had told during breaks had Shouta questioning if the man had imported special American demons back to Japan and then stuffed them all into the deceptively charming and approachable-looking hero that is Dekiru.

So there's really only one logical way to proceed forward in this situation.

Shouta grins.

Several people in the crowd around him step back.

He's pretty sure he hears someone start reciting a prayer.

But Dekiru just blushes, eyes locked on Shouta's and teeth tugging at his lower lip.

"Hope you like coffee," Shouta finally says into the breathless silence that's fallen over them, "and cats."

Dekiru lights up, a smile brighter than the sun and twice as deadly blossoming across his face.

Just off of Shouta's side, Hizashi's busy having some kind of hysterical seizure.

Around them the crowd is going absolutely feral.

Yagi's going to birth actual kittens in the middle of the staff room when he finds out about this.

Shouta can't wait.

#RayRambles #BnHA #Suikawari My Heart AU #AiDeku #EraserDeku

[marshmellowfluff221]

Levi is Soft?

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Summary: Just a collection of moments where the team catches their captain's soft side.

Warnings: N/A

-

Sunday

Training. That's all that was happening.

New orders for an escort mission had been given and set to take place sometime next week. Levi decided to ask for your help training his squad for this particular mission. You had a history of stealth related objectives and escorting people around.

The two of you had just sent the team to run another lap around the stables.

You let out an exaggerated sigh, turning and resting your forehead against Levi's shoulder. His hand came up to rest upon the top of your head, fingers carding through the strands of your hair.

"This is exhausting." You mutter, lifting your head to meet his eyes.

"You aren't doing anything." Levi reminds, the same stoic expression on his face. His lips, however, twitched up into a small smile. Your eyes bore into his, a loving smile across your lips. You brought your hands up to rest on his shoulder, using them as a cushion to rest your chin on.

"You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now." You admit. Levi shakes his head.

"Not now." He gently pokes at your cheek as he hears the heavy footsteps of the squad coming back around. You step away from him with another exaggerated sigh.

It was Armin who rounded the corner first. It was also Armin who noticed the smile Levi wore before it was wiped away in an instant. As they halted before you and Levi, Armin took note of the smile you wore. Was that blush on your cheeks?

Monday

Armin pressed his hands against Eren's feet as the boy did sit ups. His gaze was not on Eren, but on the two captains. He furrowed his brow as he noticed that Levi stood a step closer to you than anyone else. Maybe it was the angle he was at?

"Hey Eren..." Armin trailed off, looking at the boy in front of him.

"What?" Eren breathed out, obviously tired from the constant workout.

"You think Levi and Y/n are close?" The blonde asked as Eren sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as he took a break. Eren glanced over to the two before turning back to Armin and shrugging.

"Dunno, your turn." Eren nodded and Armin sighed as he moved to begin his sit ups.

Unknown to them was the conversation you were having with Levi. To squad working out it seemed like your little chatter was about them, but it wasn't.

"Levi." You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "I've told you that you need sleep."

"I do sleep." He mutters. Levi's foot nudges yours. "Don't cross your arms."

"Don't change the subject." You narrow your eyes, keeping them forward. "You only sleep when I'm in bed."

"That's sleeping." He adds a little force to his nudge. "I told you to uncross your arms."

"And I said don't change the subject." You spare a quick glance his way. Levi has his usual stoic expression. "Tonight I'm making sure you sleep."

Levi's eyes shift to you, giving you a once over before turning his gaze away. "I can't tell if you want to get in my pants or cuddle."

"I'll decide when we get there." You shrug, uncrossing your arms. "What's up with my arms, hm?"

"Brats like to stare at you." Levi mutters.

You hum in response, nodding. "So you're jealous."

"Not jealous."

"I recall you were so jealous that I spent the night training with your squad that you didn't sleep." You remind him, a small smirk on your lips.

"Shut up." Levi kicks your foot again before walking forward. "Everyone stop. Go run another lap for chit chatting."

A series of groans rang out, except from Armin and Eren. They both focus their gaze on you, who laughs and smiles at Levi's commands. They meet each other's eyes as a lightbulb flicks on.

Tuesday

"Mikasa." Eren whispered, nudging the girl with his elbow.

"What's wrong?" She asked, tilting her head towards the boy. It was hard to see him at the angle she was at. The whole squad had been tied to various poles around a circle. Their job was supposed to be to get out without tools. This exercise was simply in case of capture.

"Do you think Y/n and Levi are a little too friendly?" He asked, pulling at the ropes on his wrists as he leaned forward to look to Mikasa's reaction. She furrowed her brow, shaking her head.

"Why are you so worried about them? Focus Eren." She stated, turning her head away as she began moving her hands to escape the bindings.

"Heard my name over here." You exclaim from behind Eren, crouching down to be at his level. You grabbed onto the pole he was tied to as leverage. "Talking about me?"

"No! No- I just wanted to ask you for tips." Armin quickly spoke up. "I asked Eren to call you over."

You straightened up, glancing to Armin. Something was definitely up. With a nod you began explaining what to do in such a situation. After the explanation, you gave a pat on his head and walked over to meet Levi.

He uncrossed his arms as you neared, his fingers twitched at his sides as you stopped in front of him. Normally his hand would grab yours, his thumb running over the scars on your knuckles, but now he couldn't do such a thing. However, Levi had more self control than you.

"Hm, notice anything weird lately?" You asked, teetering on the balls of your feet. "With Armin or Eren?"

"No." Levi kept his answer short as he narrowed his eyes. "What did those brats do?"

"Nothing." You smiled, stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder as you leaned in close to his ear. "But they do seem to suspect we're in a relationship."

"What makes you say that?" He responds through gritted teeth.

"Just a hunch." You sigh, letting go of Levi and turning to stand next to him. Armin had just undone the rope binding him. "Plus I heard him last night when he asked Eren if he had ever seen us together outside of training."

As a result Levi stared down Armin the rest of the day.

Wednesday

With a day of a surprise mission done, you and Levi had made your way to his office. He was going to do the necessary paperwork that had to be done. It wasn't too much since no one had been hurt or injured, but he still had to do it. You had followed him because you knew that if you didn't, he'd stay in that office until morning.

Levi plopped himself down at his desk chair, leaning back as he placed a hand over his eyes and let out a sigh of relief.

"What?" You asked, shrugging off your coat and folding it in half before setting it on his desk. "Are you tired for once?"

"No." He huffed, removing the hand from his face as his eyes met yours. "But you are."

You nod, stepping up to Levi and taking a seat on his lap. His hands gently placed themselves on your waist. His grip tightened when you shifted against him to get comfortable.

"Good observation." You answered, cupping his face and tilting his head up to meet yours. "You know this paperwork won't run off right?"

"You need to be more careful." Levi blatantly said, changing the subject. Your brows furrowed. His fingers at your waist began to mindlessly play with the fabric of your shirt as he continued. "That titan threw you."

"Ah." One of your hands left his cheek as you gently booped his nose. "But I caught myself."

"You almost didn't."

"But I did- and if we're talking about being careful then you shouldn't have ran in and killed it so recklessly." You say, moving your hands to his shoulders and giving them a squeeze.

"Only to save you." Levi narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward to capture your lips with his. You smiled, pulling back to laugh lightly.

"If only those kids could see how adorable you are." You sigh, kissing him once more.

"Yeah, yeah." He huffs, his hands now resting on your thighs. "Get up, I have to do this paperwork."

With a sigh you slid off his lap and stood with a yawn. He poked the back of your thigh, gaining your attention.

"Go to bed, I'll be there when I finish."

"Something tells me that's a lie." You reply with a tilt of your head. He opens his mouth to speak, but pauses when he heard someone clear their throat. Your attention is brought to the door where Hange and Armin stand.

"Hi Hange, Armin." You give a small wave earning a wide smile from Hange. Hange urges Armin inside as they begin speaking about how Armin had some more information on the mission from the rest of the squad. While Levi and Armin began to converse, you couldn't help but notice Armin continuously glance your way.

Maybe he had heard something while walking to the door?

Thursday

Today of all days, you had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Every little thing annoyed you.

Someone coughed while you were explaining how to do a defensive move? Fifty push ups.

A breeze blew your hair in front of your face after you had just put it up? Run a mile.

A bird interrupted your speech? They don't get to hear the rest.

It got to the point where you just stared down the entire squad as they held a plank. It wasn't until a hand placed itself upon your shoulder that you relaxed.

"Come with me." Levi's voice softened as he gave your shoulder a squeeze. He looked up at the squad and narrowed his eyes. "Run laps until we get back."

A series of groans erupted as Levi dragged you away. It wasn't until you were in the horse's stables that he stopped and turned to you.

"Hange is telling me you're working them to the bone." He begins. "But that's not the problem here. Armin ran off during one of their laps and told Hange you looked like you were about to rip their heads off. I thought you said you could handle this?"

"I am handling this." You retort.

"No you're pushing through. Bad day?" Levi asked, knowing he has had his fair share. With a silent nod, he pulls you against his chest. He wasn't the best at comforting and he didn't really know how to make you feel better with his words. This was enough for you, however.

"I'm sorr-"

"Don't apologize. This is a tough job. Those kids are brats, I get it if you want to throw one down. I suggest Eren." Levi mumbles.

You crack a smile, pushing back enough to look up at him.

"He's a good kid Levi." You reach up, your hand resting against his cheek. "Don't treat him so roughly."

You lean forward, closing the gap between you and pressing your lips against his. Levi's hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, as if that was possible. These moments kept both of you going through the day.

"Captain- oh my-" A familiar voice broke through the silence. You pulled back from Levi, looking to your right to see Jean standing in the entrance to the stables. Levi's eyes narrowed.

"What." He spat angrily. You discreetly pinched his side as you stepped away from Levi and made your way towards Jean.

"Hm? Get tired of running already? I was only gone- what like five minutes? Let's go kid." You slap a hand against Jean's shoulder, knocking him out of his shocked state.

That'd be a hard one to hide.

Friday

Today was tense.

That was an understatement. It was awkward and tense.

"Spit it out already." Levi sighs, staring down the troops before him. Armin glances over to Eren who then looks to Mikasa. Jean tenses up, his eyes on the floor.

"Are you guys dating?" Eren finally blurts out, much to everyone's surprise.

"Eren!" Mikasa grabs his arm. "You can't ask-"

"Yes we are. Any other questions?" Levi answers in a monotone voice. The entire squad remains silent as they take in what Levi had just said. As if on cue, you walk on up, unknowing of the conversation that had just occured.

"Hey guys, what's with that look?" You asked, taking your place next to Levi.

"They asked a stupid question and I gave an answer." Levi muttered, obviously annoyed.

You grew confused as Levi stepped forward and began ordering them around as usual.

Saturday

"So what was the question." You asked, your horse slowing to walk in time with Levi's.

"Eren asked if we were dating." He sighs.

"Oh!" You straighten up, glancing over your shoulder at the troops trailing behind. The day had finally come to set off on the escourt mission, since it would take a day or two to get there the squad left in the morning. "So...you lied to them didn't you?"

"No." Levi replies.

"No?" You repeat.

"No." He confirms.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Levi asks, glancing over at you.

"Yeah. Oh." You shrug. "I just thought you would've wanted to keep us a secret to avoid all the teasing or-"

"I could care less." Levi scoffs. "If you think I actually care about their opinions, you're wrong. It's not a secret that we're together."

"Levi I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said." You respond with a smile.

"So he is a big softy." Eren exclaimed. Levi's attention snapped to Eren as he narrowed his eyes. "Ah...nevermind."

#aot x reader #snk x reader #snk levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot

[sakura-ame-no-ai]

"bring a jacket next time."

pairings: tetsurou kuroo x reader

genre: fluff

notes: in japan, their way of checking the time is much different than america. they use 24-hour clocks. so if it was 1 in the afternoon, it would be counted as 13:00 for them.

a/n: it felt like some special holiday for me today and i don't know why... but seriously, how is my last kenma fanfic getting so much love istg- anyways, enjoy this fanfiction! i couldn't think of a good title for this on... :sob:

you sneeze suddenly when a gust of wind blows against your legs. it is indeed cold outside, but the shriveled leaves scraping their way down the street makes it seem much colder.

"why does it have to be so cold on a beautiful night like this..," you mutter to yourself, wrapping yourself with your arms.

too bad you didn't contemplate on bringing a jacket with you before bursting through the door with kuroo calling behind you.

well, now you feel a little guilty remembering that you lied to kuroo that you were going to buy some snacks at a nearby konbini. in reality, you just want to spend most of the night searching for some shooting stars.

you make a brief trip to the park, to which you find everything abandoned. that one big red slide that you always see children fighting to have their turn on is now empty and lonely. the swings seem motionless, too. however, they still rock back and forth every now and then when a chilly breeze rushes by. the seesaw is tilted down at an angle, making one side touch the ground full of woodchips.

you search for that favorite brown bench that has legs made out of an elegant black metal of some sort. soon, you discover it sitting under a big maple tree silently. it faces a metal fence that is as high as your waist, which a beautiful view of a huge lake stretches out on the other side of that fence. you don't hesitate to plop down and make yourself comfy on the bench, admiring the wavy reflection of the glittering stars and moon on the water's surface.

you could stare at such a view all day...

well, you would if you had brought a jacket though.

the cold night air wraps around you, trying to embrace you in a friendly way, but all it does is make you shiver and lift your feet onto the bench. you hug your knees and bury your mouth and nose inside your arms and knees, cursing to yourself about why you were stupid enough to not bring some warm clothing before setting out.

"just like i thought," a voice that sounds very familiar booms out from behind you, making you flinch.

you turn your head around to see a bedhair walk up to you with a cheeky grin.

"tetsu?!" you squeal, a little shocked that he actually know exactly where you were. "how did you know i'm here?"

kuroo is bundled up in a scarf and his nekoma jacket. he also has a thick piece of folded cloth draped over his right arm, making you assume that it's probably a blanket.

"i've never seen you that eager to do some shopping at the konbini, kitten," he replies, taking a seat next to you.

"you've always been a fan of sceneries outside, so that gave me an idea."

you give him a look of amazement, awed by the fact that he knows you very well like you're his child or something. however, it isn't long before kuroo bonks you on the head.

"you little rascal~ why didn't you bring a coat? it's like below 25 degrees celsius, and here you are, hanging out at the park, short-sleeved, and without a jacket or coat."

you whimper at his remarks.

"well, you know i was excited, tetsu..," you pout, puffing your cheeks out.

he chuckles, "nobody was blaming you, ok?"

kuroo takes a moment to peel off his nekoma jacket and place it over your shoulders. you gratefully hug it over your shoulders. other than the fact that it smells strongly of that lavender body soap you gave him, the jacket felt warm from kuroo's body heat, making you feel safe.

an unintentional smile slips onto your lips and you readjust your gaze to the sky.

"say... do you think there will be any shooting stars tonight?"

kuroo lifts a brow before fixing his gaze at the sky as well.

"oya? hunting for shooting stars?"

you nod eagerly, continuing to look up attentively.

"mhm! you told me that it's shooting star season!"

the branches of the maple tree above you sway gently, swishing its leaves together to create gentle rustling sounds.

kuroo smiles and points towards one of the stars.

"do you know how stars are formed, n/n?" he asks you, his finger directing your gaze towards the appointed star.

you squint to make a more intricate observation of the star while racking your brain, trying to remember your astrology lessons at school.

"well... don't stars form from accumulated gas and dust in space?" you finally conclude, remembering one fact your teacher has emphasized back then.

kuroo nods happily.

"yep. stars form when the gravity of the dust and air collapse together, which makes them heat up out of pressure."

he continues to ramble on about how stars mostly contain hydrogen and helium, the lightest elements to exist in the universe, and how stars are, in reality, exploding balls of gas.

you listen patiently as he explains. you are always interested in his nerdy science talk, as well as the way he is invested in his own world when a discussion related to a scientific topic arises.

it takes him a little bit to finish his explanation with a sneeze.

of course, he's not wearing his jacket. that's why.

you take off the jacket you were wearing and hand it to him.

"you're gonna catch a cold, so take your jacket back."

however, he pushes it back into your chest.

"no, kitten. you have it. i'm worried about you more."

you begin to pout, angry that he's always caring for your health instead of his own.

"no, kuroo," you say with an upset look. "this is not my jacket."

you two begin fighting about who should wear kuroo's jacket, exaggerating the possibilities of not wearing one and lecturing one another.

"that's it," kuroo sighs, looking troubled.

at first, you are confused by his words.

"what do you m-"

it was at this moment that kuroo covers the blanket that you forgot he had brought onto his back and then trapping you inside his arms, wrapping your body inside the blanket.

"there, now we're both warm," he smirks.

you take a while to understand the situation you're currently in before blushing madly. you look up at him, only to see that usual proud smirk on his face. he obviously did this on purpose.

"tetsu?! what the actual hell?!" you scream.

"oya? anything wrong?" he asks a little too 'innocently', pissing you off.

you growl back, "of course, you dumbass! people might see us and take this to like a million different wrong directions!"

"kitten, it's almost half-past 23:00. it's really unlikely that we'll be seen since most people are asleep."

you can't counter back, because that sly cat is right. most people are asleep at this time, so it's highly unlikely that you'd get caught like this with kuroo.

you have no idea how to react, so you decide to lean your back against kuroo, resting your head on his chest. at least, you realize that you feel much warmer than wearing his jacket. in the end, you start to relax, paying closer attention to the steady rise and fall of his chest while he breathes.

"do you ever see stars as memories when you look at them?" you ask kuroo, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze.

"sometimes," he smiles, looks at one of the stars.

"like that one near that giant cloud reminds me of when i stole your meat from your lunchbox."

you cough.

"do you think this is a great time to bring this up??"

he only smirks at you. "you asked if i get reminded of anything when i look at a star."

you pout a little and fix your eyes to another star and point your finger towards it.

"well, this one reminds me of when yaku beat your ass for stealing meat from my lunchbox."

you two begin talking back and forth, saying which star represented which memory, laughing about the old days, and fighting about various things, like who should've gotten to eat that scrumptious piece of steak.

as you come back to argue about the lunchbox situation again, a white streak catches your eyes, snapping your attention back to the sky.

"look, tetsu! shooting stars!" you exclaim.

what kuroo turns his head to look at the sky with you.

sure enough, more streaks of white rain down like a slight drizzle.

"hurry up! make a wish!" you tell him before clasping your hands together before your face and close your eyes.

kuroo looks at you, then back at the sky. after a while, he closes his eyes and makes his wish.

i want to stay by y/n's side, even after i graduate.

however, he doesn't say it out loud. instead, he wraps his arms around your chest after you have finished making your wish.

for the first time in forever, kuroo gives you the most genuine smile that you've ever seen, which surprises you since you're so used to his cheeky smirks. it reminds you of honey and its sweet flavor.

"you know, kitty, we could do this next time," he coos in the sweetest voice you've ever heard him use.

"did you think i'd stop you?"

"ummmm..."

you look side-ways towards the tree beside you before give him your honest response.

"weeeeell, i thought you'd tell me it'd be too late into the night to do something like this and that i wouldn't be able to wake up if i stay up star-hunting."

kuroo chuckles, petting your head lightly with that big hand of his

"things like this are exceptions."

your eyes light up to his words. he has officially announced the permit to stay up searching for shooting stars that you adore a lot. it makes you very happy that you smile back warmly.

"thank you, tetsurou," you sigh, leaning into his chest comfortably.

"it's nothing, y/n."

he continues to stroke your hair in a soothing way as he maintains that genuine smile on his lips.

"just bring a jacket next time, or star-hunting will be off-limits."

#kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo #kuroo tetsurou x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo #kuroo x reader #tetsurou #tetsurou x reader #haikyuu x reader #x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq #kuroo comfort #kuroo fluff #fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo headcanons #haikyuu x y/n #kuroo x y/n #haikyuu scenarios #kuroo scenarios #anime #manga

[shorkbrian]

THIS ISNT AN ASK I JUST GOT INSPIRED LOOKING AT YOUR TINGSSS; (Prohero) Yan Kiri responding to his (kidnapped) darlings' birthday request: Just do what they say for the day. Darling had to suck dick LONG AND HARD for this very special birthday wish, and spends the day dancing around the garden in a dress that they FINALLY got to choose themselves (the longest one they own) with gorgeous, full coverage underwear on. (1/2)

“This isn't an ask” then why it in my ask box hoe (Lolol I’m sorry I write what I see hope u don’t mind)

(What to expect - Cunnilingous, dubcon, noncon, NSFW, sexy birthday gift)

Yes you had to suck his dick, not to be allowed to wear the dress (Kirishima’s a sucker, and he likes seeing his baby in pretty little dresses that make them look all innocent), but to have him promise to not pin and fuck you the second she put it on (or at any point during your special day, just one day without sex, please? ur pussy needs a mf break)

Because it’s your birthday, Kirishima lets you order a dress online, sat in his lap of course, while he offers feedback.

“That one’s pretty.”

“Oo, you’d look so gorgeous in that color, you should get that one!”

“Eh, this one doesn’t seem like you, let’s look at a different one babe.”

“This is cute, but don’t you think it’s a little long? You might trip.”

His advice was unwarranted and mostly unwanted, hands distracting you by playing with your hair, kissing at your exposed shoulder while you scrolled through the options.

You finally decided on a dress, begging Kirishima to allow you to buy underwear as well to go with it. Kiri got excited for a second, and of course said yes, only to get confused and laugh when you added comfortable, un-sexy underwear to the cart.

But a promise is a promise, so everything gets purchased.

And the morning of your birthday, you get presented with the dress, the underwear, and breakfast in bed, which is slightly burnt, but the effort is somewhat appreciated.

Kirishima doesn’t bother you when you head to the shower (usually he follows you everywhere like an oversized puppy, and showers are never completed without his wandering hands and wet kisses), just smiles at you forlornly as he keeps his end of the “no touching” agreement for the day.

He doesn’t make you sit in his lap, or even next to him while you eat your breakfast in bed.

You don’t have his hands constantly touching you, wrapped around your waist, heavy on your shoulder, playing with your hair or skimming along your thigh.

Kirishima’s taken the day off, just so he can spend it with you, and he’s so glad. You’re laughing at his stupid jokes, you seem comfortable and relaxed, cheeks rosy, eyes bright, and the man has never been so in love.

It’s obvious that he’s struggling to hold himself back from grabbing you - his fingers itch, his smile is strained, he can’t stop staring at you in that dress. But he had promised, and you took advantage of that.

Flouncing around his bulky form, swishing your dress, giving an enthusiastic twirl that maybe showed off a bit more of your legs than was considered modest.

Teasing him about the slight bulge in his pants that appeared after a little bit of flirting, feeling safe because he wasn’t allowed to touch you.

You were shameless about the flirting too, a sort of confidence filling you and making you giggly and feel light, even though you weren’t exactly fond of the man you were flirting with on account of all the things he had done to you. 

Kiri tried to convince you to stop, joking along with you at first but then quickly growing serious as you amped up your playful seductiveness, feeling powerful and in control because he couldn’t touch you no matter what.

His words were ignored, and you continued to live your best life, dancing around, licking food off of your finger with a mean smile, letting out little breathy moans whenever you stretched.

And the best part? Kirishima just had to sit there and take it. Just like he had forced you to accept his affection, you now forced him to accept the fact that you were wholly in reach, but absolutely off-limits.

That evening, you get ushered out to the garden, which Kirishima had “decorated” for you.

Technically, it was your garden, something for you to work on and occupy yourself with while Kirishima was off working. It wasn’t much, but you’d done your best with taking care of the plants.

Kiri had hung little twinkly lights in the trees, stringing them between the branches. He had set up a little table underneath the lights, a small cake, a bouquet of flowers, a few candles here and there.

It was romantic, and your heart swelled at the sight. In any other situation, this would be the absolute best birthday in the entire world. But today you wanted to be happy, so you didn’t think about all the reasons for why it wasn’t.

The two of you sat and ate cake, Kirishima recounting how many times he’d gotten cake slapped in his face by trying to surprise Bakugou on his birthday. You laughed, almost choking on cake, which made you laugh harder at the ungodly noise that left your throat.

You talked about your garden, animatedly gesturing to the various plants, explaining how you took care of them and what you still needed to work on. Kirishima listened intently, smiling at you.

He interrupted you in the middle of a story about your life growing up, holding a bite of cake towards you on his fork. Without thinking (he had been very insistent at first that he hand-feed you), you leaned across the table, opening your mouth and accepting the food.

You made eye contact, Kirishima’s eyes flicking down to your mouth, the way your lips stretched around the fork, the pink of your tongue as it accepted the bite. A moan was uttered, a smile teasing your lips as you licked at the frosting around your lips, bringing a thumb up to swipe it clean, sucking the digit into your mouth while moaning about how good it tastes.

And then Kirishima was breathing hard, red eyes locked on your own, calmly putting down his fork.

You immediately recognized what was going on, started rising from your seat the same time Kiri rose from his, holding your hands out and reminding the man of his promise. 

But he was done, you’d teased him all day. Enough was enough.

He grabbed your arm before you could even think about moving away, jerking you to him to capture your lips in a heated kiss, tasting the subtle hint of sweetness on your tongue.

As soon as he pulled away, you were admonishing him, saying he promised, telling him to stop touching you, he’s such a jerk.

But he had a one-track mind, picking you up to settle your weight in one hand, forearm under your rear as he cleared a space on the table quickly.

Then you were getting sat down on top of it, Kiri sitting back down in his chair as he pulled your hips to edge, quickly rucking up your dress.

“Kirishima! You-you promised! Stop, you said you wouldn't!” You cried, trying to push his hands away, push his head back, stop him from revealing your underwear, but he was determined.

“Sorry baby, I just can’t help myself.” Was the offered explanation while he pulled down your underwear, managing to get it off one of your kicking legs before giving up and letting it dangle off of one ankle.

He hunched over immediately, large hands gripping and angling your hips up so he could reach your pussy, licking over it messily. There was no technique, no rhythm, the man just wanted to taste you, practically drooling over your cunt.

You cried out, hands pulling at his hair, making him grunt, but he couldn’t be moved from between your plush thighs.

“You said-ah! Don’t Kiri-” You whined, resigning yourself to the fact that he wasn’t going to let up. “It’s my birthday, I-I didn’t want you touching me....”

Kirishima pulled back a little, brows furrowed. He reached over to the cake, your eyes following his hand as he scooped up a glob of frosting.

No, he wouldn’t-

He would.

“No!” You yelped, but his grip on your hip was firm as he slapped the handful of frosting onto your cunt. You keened at the odd sensation, the cool frosting quickly being heated by your warm skin, beginning to melt.

“Birthday girl, you’re all messy, gotta clean you up-” The man breathed, diving back down the suck at your skin, tongue enthusiastically licking up the frosting, your juices with it.

All you could do was cry.

He ate you out until the frosting was cleaned from you cunt, until your skin was shiny and slick with spit and your own creamy juices. By the time he seemed satisfied, you were shaking, thighs bracketing his hand while they trembled and convulsed at each eager lave of his tongue over your swollen slit.

It began raining, the soft pitter-patter droplets easily hiding the streaking of tears down your face.

Kirishima didn’t seem too phased, merely standing, pulling you into his arms and striding towards the door.

You could see the little area Kirishima had set up for your birthday, lights beginning to drop out of trees from the wind, the cake getting ruined by the elements, the scene quickly dissolving into a mess.

And Kirishima had barely gotten started with you.

#Yandere kirishima #kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima #kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijiro #birthday #tw dubcon #tw.dubcon #tw noncon #tw.noncon #bad writing #author sucks lol

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

I wanted to get this ‘Valentine’s Day’ piece out, even though it’s massively, supremely late. 😭It’s part of a longer piece (because I couldn’t stop writing it😶) and I’m still not sure whether or not it’s not terrible.😖

prompt list

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This couldn't be right.

Damian almost did a double take, his cool smirk withering when he glanced up, transfixed by the sleek storefront at the cross streets where he stood. Why on earth would Raven be in a place like this?

The building towered above the tottering sea of gray, black and blue below. And the mannequins in the display lorded over their dominion, propped loftily on their perches, arms and legs of impractical proportions, stilted at absurd angles.

And why would she summon him here?

His trousers began to buzz audibly and the shifting crowd of passersby jostled him closer to the glass. Damian delivered the faceless caricatures of the female form a final foreboding glare, before he reached down to free the device vibrating in his pocket. New Message. Raven. Apparently, it was urgent. He tapped the speech bubble icon with a fingertip and his jaw went slack.

I Need You.

The three words seemed etched into the surface of the screen. And they were more than enough to get him to take a deep breath and grasp the curved door handle, his jaw set, and wingtips marching determinedly onward.

The atmosphere inside the store was even more unexpected than the outside. When translated, the pounding music and low lighting read as more nightclub than boutique. It was completely impractical in Damian's view—how could anyone locate a price tag, let alone see the item they were intending to purchase? Although, after a few minutes of skulking around in the dark, he could see how the implementation of such a design was advantageous. With stealthiness like his, he wasn't in danger of being accosted by overly helpful employees hungry for commissions, before he located the heading of a dramatic script that read Dressing Rooms, and turned underneath it.

Down the row each stall had a flood light stationed above it, but only one appeared to be presently occupied: the corner room at the farthest end of the hall. And as he got closer he noticed it also appeared to be the largest. Damian glanced behind him and rapped on the door with a knuckle. And just as he began to wonder if he'd needed some sort of special knock or password prepared, the lock glowed black and unlatched itself.

"I'm here." The door creaked open and the floor groaned under his solid weight. Damian turned swiftly to shut it, growing steadily concerned.

"So what is it? What's the—big emergency..." He started, but his tongue began to feel heavy and leaden inside his rapidly drying mouth. And his eardrums began to beat violently until they matched the thumping of his maddened heart.

Red.

Blood red.

Burning. Blinding. Blazing.

In the carpet, the walls, the curtains, the chandelier.

It was everywhere—even in the deafening pounding hammering away at his head.

Thundering images suspended before him, going in and out of focus. They were searing his eyes, blearing his vision. In sinful shapes marred over pale flesh, it was red repeating over and over. Criss-crossing crimson. Damian had to dig his fingernails into his palms to ground himself with the tangibility of a familiar sensation.

And suddenly he realized that all the times before were incomparable, this was what it meant to be blindsided by a breath-taking blow. This was what it meant to receive a rush of blood to the head…

…or a rush of blood to the—

"I'm glad you came so quickly."

And the silhouette of Raven turned where she sat on a velvet ottoman, leaning forward in a way that was guaranteed to diffuse away the rest of his brain's processing ability. It was all he could do not to goggle at her like some cartoon character. Tawdry and tactless. Damian inwardly cursed the merciless Goddess above as he took in the cleavage created by cups, a series of straps and bows and elastic and he didn't know what. Only that he shouldn't have been so disarmed by it—by Raven's breasts pushed up to high-heaven. Like they weren't perky enough or distracting enough in their usual sheath of simple black cotton.

His wide emerald eyes strayed downward in spite of themselves and onto shapely, stocking clad legs folded one over the other, with a lace-up heel tapping out the bass of the synth pop bleeding into the background. Raven slid to her feet seamlessly, swaying slightly to the song. She took a single step, allowing the shadows to part for her as she did so.

There was a muted click, clack, click of her heels on the carpet as she drew near. He'd never seen her in stilettos, and he stared at them through slits.

Gods, they had to be four inches at least. Their impressive height only seemed to serve to make her look even more powerful. Just about as powerful as the force rooting him to the spot.

The deep panging in Damian's chest carried on, a racehorse charging from the starting gate, galloping faster and faster, as she grew closer and closer.

Suddenly he'd become aware of the fact that it was far too warm in here for the dead of winter. Or was it simply that Raven radiated such an intense heat?

Most definitely the latter.

The garnet colored lace gracing Raven's skin was a perfect match to her chakra stone. The semi-sheer fabric of her bra offered up a playful glimpse of the darker skin of her nipples beneath. When his gaze wound down her tapering waist, it appeared that the lack of opaqueness carried over to the front of her panties. He could just make out a little shadow—a promise laying underneath a tempting, well-kept diamond shape in plum wine. And last, but certainly not least were the thigh highs trimmed by garnet lacings and affixed to a red and black garter.

Damian's throat had somehow gone even drier. He tried to swallow with great difficulty, then tugged at his turtleneck for a reprieve.

However, there would be no such alleviation for his trousers.

"There's no emergency, Damian..." Raven assured him with a tilt of her head, lilac tendrils skating across a valley between pale peaks. "You'll have to forgive me, but I had to get you here. I had to know..." She paused, folding her arms as she prepared to pose a question to him. "Tell me... what do you think...of my outfit?"

Damian froze, fingers mid-tug and blinked several times as if he'd been struck dumb.

What?

That wasn't...

There was no way...

Was that a serious request?

She was being facetious—she had to be. It was the only explanation, unless Raven was somehow messing with his mind and Damian sincerely doubted that. But how could she ask him this with such bold-faced sincerity? Even if the wooden arch behind her housed a funhouse mirror and had been reflecting distorted proportions back at her. Or was there actually some warped reality in which they weren't looking at the same picture?

Although...

If he could muster up a voice to speak he would have asked, what outfit?

Lackadaisically, she trailed a hand down her body, tugging at the cups spilled over with supple skin. "The bra—do you like the pattern?" Raven traced the gorge between the swell of her breasts. "It's tulle and...French lace," she confirmed, squeezing the scant, semi-sheer embroidery molded to her chest. And Damian grimaced as though in physical pain.

"No?" she assessed, seemingly marking off boxes on a mental checklist. Raven smoothed her hands over her hips for a moment, appearing to be lost in thought. She paced slowly, revolving a full three-hundred and sixty degrees to pause with her back to him.

"And what about..." She swept a purple curtain over the nape of her neck to glance over her shoulder and he saw—of all things—a bow below the dimples on her back, nestled into the heart-shaped curve of her ass. "My panties...?"

Damian gritted his teeth, though not before letting a sound escape, like a hiss coupled with a wince.

"Are these okay?" The soft profile of her lips pressed.

Gods, it was almost as if she were seeking to offer all of this up to him. And who needed to clarify anything when she was all wrapped up and presented? Covered in the finest cardstock wrappings in gold-flecked marble, then laced up with champagne silk ribbon to await her unravelling.

Though his own would be more likely.

Right now, he'd forsake all his names, both Wayne and Al Ghul to get her to stop. Stop slinking closer, stop speaking in that sweet, scratchy undertone, and stop directing his focus to her various attributes, more than it already was.

It would only make his growing pain more pronounced.

A pale hand dangled down and spread across a smooth, silken thigh. "My stockings, then?" Raven hummed.

Though, Damian didn't speak. He wasn't entirely certain he was still breathing. Somehow, he'd managed to remain motionless and drag his unwilling eyes toward the floor. All his carefully constructed control was necessary to keep himself calm and centered in this moment. He could do this—he had to do this. Otherwise, what was the point of all those long years of training he'd endured?

Shiny purple strands bobbed; she'd started to shake her head slowly at the stony silence from the stoic cashmere wall standing before her, as if she expected as much.

"I bet you're still wondering why I called you here." Damian heard her voice go up in the middle, which it did whenever she was apprehensive or unsure. "I wanted you here to find out what you like—exactly what you like." When he arrived, Raven was blushing a delicious pink, so by now it had to be a violent red. "I wanted to get it right because...you're the first person, or only person I've ever been intimate with in any world, dimension, or universe..." She lingered.

And once again, Damian said nothing, and she resumed speaking.

"I do know that this is something that one does traditionally." Raven paused to worry her already cherry-red bottom lip. "That couples do... Buying underwear for your significant other is supposed to be something special, particularly for this holiday."

He was a mountain, immobile, unwavering...

"Oh, I see..." Her mouth set into a line. "Perhaps, it's the fit—or is it the color...?" Raven's large amethyst eyes swept over the room and landed on her reflection. "I thought dark red was classic. I knew I shouldn't have listened to Donna. I should have gotten something in black." She dragged a distraught hand through dark purple. "It's too much...or maybe it's not enough..."

"Don't," Damian growled low. His inflection was level and gave nothing away. If Raven was surprised by the outburst, she didn't let on, instead she continued.

"I bet the old string of socialites shuffling in and out of the manor were never caught dead in skivvies that weren't Kiki de Montparnasse or at least Agent Provocateur. But this..." Raven lifted her chin toward the mirror. "It's not your taste though, is it?"

That was far more than enough.

Far more than he could stand to hear and far more than he could stand to bear.

When his eyes flew back to hers at last, they weren't steely anymore, they burned—whittling her retinas down like they were wicks on candlesticks. As if he were all but telling her he dared her to do that again, to say that again.

"It's okay. I'm glad I found out before I bought—"

"I said...don't." Damian placed his hands on her wrists and whisked her right up to his chest. And he closed his eyes. He skimmed his lips along the length of hers like it was something sacred, his mouth trembling as Raven muffled out a note denoting her surprise.

He murmured to her, "you're brilliant, deadly beautiful—an empath...and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I'm your blindspot." Damian sighed resolutely. "But Raven, can't you take pity on me? I'm still a man." One that had been barely keeping it together since he arrived, but... "And you're you, so..."

There was no way in any world, dimension, or universe that he could ever resist.

Purple eyes grew wider as he told her and lifted a finger to her chin. Then it was Damian turning the tables and tipping her mouth towards his own. And though he hungered for her, he took slow and sweet and gentle grazes. It was tortuous, but he should only have a little at a time. This was an excess of an impossibly decadent dessert, an indulgence he was undeserving of. It was like the power in his sub zero freezer had short-circuited and he had no choice but to guzzle down that buried pint of vanilla caramel gelato.

Though who could blame him for being greedy when he had all of this spread out before him? And when her ass in those panties even resembled two round, creamy spoonfuls.

To hell with it then.

Damian lunged, face forward, longing for more of her. In an instant, he was inhaling her pulse, intaking the scent of leather-bound books with aged pages and the nectar from plums she'd probably narrowly avoided dripping on them. He dipped his tongue along the hollow of her collarbone as if he sought to test this.

"Mmm, that's nice."

"Nice?" Damian scoffed, his eyes on hers. "That's not what I was going for. Surely you didn't wear this because you wanted me to be nice." At the present, he wanted nothing more than to rip the tiny pieces of lace into twos, but Raven had selected them specifically for him. So he would continue to be patient and continue to savor this.

Let the pieces of fabric hold up for as long as he could hold out.

"Wait a moment," Raven gasped, quickly clutching his arm. "So your present...?"

"Present? Tch..." Damian's lip curled under his front teeth and he let out a piercing click. "If you're seriously considering getting me a present..." His palms glided down her chest and he gathered a scoop of softness in either hand. "Then these are perfect," he whispered in her ear.

And then Damian's mouth pushed back into hers and he was kissing her in ways that would make it impossible to return this lingerie after trying it on. He nipped urgently to gain entrance to her castle, then trapped her lip between his teeth like it was a drawbridge, at last releasing her tongue to collide with his own. All the while, his thumbs were sliding over her nipples, which puckered and pointed at his touch. He pushed up the cups of her bra for better access, head inclined towards his goal, soon to be met by a full mouth.

Each brush of his lips on Raven's chest made her fingers clench further and further into his shirt like it was a life preserver, and she was in danger of losing herself to the depths.

And after all, wasn't this the answer that she'd wanted from this—that she needed from him?

A chance to lose herself.

To stand in a dressing room in his arms, moaning his name like a breathy spell, her body bending until her back was arched under the avid swipes of tongue. He tugged her nipples between his teeth and they reddened, their response a glowing rave.

Yes.

Raven's eyelids squeezed, her pink face contorting in pleasure while Damian enjoyed the full weight of her breasts in his hands. He continued polishing the plush, pink rings. Left then right—until they were glistening.

"Gods, Damian..." Raven groaned. "Just—"

Just as sudden, there was a wet noise, a slip of suction. Damian had released a rosy nipple, taking note of Raven's expression. Hungry and dazed, and all his doing. Whether unconsciously or not, she pressed her legs together, clenching them as she watched Damian slip off the left sleeve of his coat and let it crumple to the ground in a heap.

The glaze of her gaze, her diaphragm's continuous rise and fall, her fingers digging into his arm, she needed this.

So why deny her?

"Yes, these are beautiful..." He whispered as he admired his handiwork under the chandelier light. The way the red nips and bites were like Damian Wayne watermarks upon the pale flesh. "But perhaps..." Damian's hands glided freely down the small of her back, just over the hill of her ass and stroked the burgundy bow, like an X marking the spot. "This."

When Damian glanced down at Raven, she was barely biting back another mewl, and moving restlessly in his arms. "I wonder what would happen if I were to pull this bow... Raven what do you think?"

"Damian... We shouldn't..." Raven murmured, sounding somewhat apprehensive and holding the fabric at his back tightly.

"Yes, we should Raven," he rasped darkly. "Right now, I can't seem to think of a reason why not..."

"Well, there's the fact that we're in public—"

"Public," Damian repeated flatly. "What of it? The outside world ceased to exist the second I entered the door of my own little version of Narnia."

Raven's jaw had unhinged in unmasked shock and Damian supposed this was an instance to take her remaining breath away by kissing her. Yes, he'd walked through a door and suddenly he was laying eyes on his half-naked demoness dangerous in dark red. So clearly nothing else in creation mattered.

When he pulled away her lips opened and closed, while her eyes remained shut, like a thirsty traveler prematurely cut off from a longer drink. And even though it seemed her body knew the truth, a darker part of him wanted her to beg for it.

"But, that's not what I asked," he said with a hard smile that wasn't. Damian drummed a divot on her lower back. "I fear I've gotten ahead of myself again. Tell me about the bow, Raven. What happens if I pull it?" His hand jutted out, he made a motion with his fingers, in mimicry of it.

"Why ask when you know the answer?" Raven asked him, her brow rising shakily.

"I could have asked you the same earlier. But..."

"But?"

Raven bit her lip but made no motion to stop his hands from climbing onto the curve of her ass. He taunted her twice, by tugging lightly on the tulle, until at last... The bow in the back came loose, and her panties slid down her legs with ease. She secured one pale thigh tightly over the other to hide herself.

No bottoms and bra half-undone, she was nothing short of delicious.

Though that scrap of fabric had barely covered much of anything, so why bother to tease? Or hadn't that been the sole purpose of this outfit?

A devious smirk sidled onto Damian's face as he realized something: these were the exact kind of underwear that one put on simply to take off.

"I pulled the bow, Raven," he murmured almost mockingly. "Don't I at least get to see the rest of my present?"

She stared up at him through her soot colored lashes and slowly opened her thighs.

#damirae #demonbirds #damian wayne #raven roth #raven #teen titans #dcau #damian x raven #me #fanfiction #writing #dc comics #dc #titans #raven and damian #damian and raven #lingerie #sort of valentines day #valentines day #valentines day 2021 #dressing room #very late #💌💌💌

[lovesanmotion]

yandere!fanboy!ateez reacts: s/o writing a song about them

This is: requested | I guess....the yandere!ateez as fanboys are a success from what I can see. I only uploaded them without thinking. Also, don’t hesitate to blow up my request box! I’m jobless like Hongjoong, Yeosang and Wooyoung. Also, to the sender who requested this, thank you so much for appreciating my blog and writing! 

Lyrics I placed in order:  Love Battery - LOONA (Immortal Songs)  Shadow - F(x)  Going Crazy - Secret Jieun ft. BAP Yongguk Peekaboo - Red Velvet Shampoo - After School Babe - Hyuna Into You - Yuri Love Foolish - TWICE 

Hongjoong: 

“Even if you are not handsome, I like it. Even if you’re not buff, I like it. You are just for me, to me, you are the best.” 

Hongjoong stood among the crowd with a foolish smile painted on his lips. His hands placed on top of his chest as he listens to your new song that you are performing at your comeback concert. 

“Hold me one more time. Hold me tightly until I burst. Love’s effect must be fading. I need you.” 

A soft sigh escapes his lips dramatically. Lovestuck as he watches the love of his life sing a song about him and how she constantly needed his touch or else she’d die from his lack of attention on her. 

“Fill me with love. Love battery has drained. I can’t live without you, I really can’t live without you. You are my battery.” 

He clutches his chest tightly, his heart beating loudly inside. He didn’t cared how wild the others were cheering for your comeback stage, all that matters to him is that this song was made for him. Just for him. Normally he would promote your songs by requesting them on radio stations, but he hesitated on the idea of promoting it. This was his song. And only he gets the full rights to enjoy it. The others are just listening to it, he thought that you were kind enough to let everyone hear the song you made especially for him. 

“To me, you are everything. I like you so much, I totally like you. My only love, there’s no other, my love. You are the best.” 

As the comeback concert ended, everyone inside the concert hall talked about how your comeback song is a hit and promised to get you another music show win. The others gushed how you must be in love that you wrote a song about affection. 

Hongjoong could only chuckle to himself as he walks out of the venue, hands filled with your individual merchandise and a wallet almost empty after emptying the shelves of your concert goods. 

“Stupid fools think that the song is for them when in fact the song is about me. Me! Only me! Why would Y/N ever notice all of you when a whole me exists?” Hongjoong thought to himself as he walked alone late that night. 

Seonghwa: 

“Everyday, I secretly chase after your footsteps. I’m always careful so you won’t notice. No one says it but our date has started, our own date.” 

Click click! Seonghwa focuses his camera on a different angle before taking another shot of you. Click click! 

“Where are you going? Step by step, I follow you. Without a word you lead me. Step by step, did you notice me? I have nowhere to hide anymore.” 

Yesterday, Starlight made a comeback and today, they are performing their comeback song at a radio station. For this comeback, Starlight’s Y/N participated in the song writing, having been credited two songs in the mini album. She partook writing the comeback song! 

“When the sun rises, I walk in sync and together with you. I am really really into you. When the moon rises, you fall asleep in my arms. I really really like you.” 

Seonghwa’s parents had been praising him for landing a wonderful job in the corporate world. When in reality, he was only hired by a fellow sasaeng that gave him much flexible work hours so he could still manage to slip out of his work and follow your every footstep in the country or out. He was being paid fairly well even when all he did was just to follow you around.

“Day by day, we resemble each other more and more. Your laughter and tears, I know it all. Don’t be scared, were a fate tied by the sun, its our destiny to be together.” 

As the performance ended, the girls sat back down on their seats and the interview rolled in. Fansites can only hang outside of the studio, and of course, Seonghwa is up close, nearest to Y/N. 

“Congratulations to Starlight! This is their third comeback and the song is really catchy!” The MC remarked. 

“It’s sounds like a summer song! I heard Y/N took part in the production?” The second MC asked, the cameras then turned to face Y/N. Y/N who was flustered, nodded her head. “Yes” 

“Can you tell us the story behind the song? Your fans are dying to know the meaning behind such a good song.” The first MC says. 

Y/N held the microphone in her head, smiling, she explained: “This is a true to life song. I made a song about a guy who was really handsome and captured my heart. We were always going in the same direction and one time, his hand brushed into mine. And I felt so happy by the small connection.” Y/N chuckles. 

When Seonghwa heard about it, he lowered his camera and stared at Y/N. The song was about him. He remembered how he would spend his vacant period at work to follow Y/N when they were shooting an ad around Namsan because of the newly built skywalk. His hand brushed on hers when they were buying food at the convenient store. Seonghwa was so moved by the explanation that he felt like his feelings grew more for you. 

“My sunshine likes getting attention. My attention. That’s right, my sunshine, bathe in my attention only. ” 

Yunho: 

“It’s not love, this isn’t love. It’s just your obsession. Wherever, Whatever I do. It’s frightening. The you who watches me.”

Yunho watched as Y/N practices for her upcoming comeback stage at The Show next week. He admired how she dare approached a bold and mature comeback. And he was so happy to see this new side of his girl. However, he felt like he needed to be more protective of her since she was going for a more risque concept. 

“Have you gone crazy? Why are you like this? Please just leave me alone now. Seeing you is suffocating. Please disappear from my sight.” 

Yunho stood behind the cameras as he watches Y/N and the featured artist practice. He heard a few staffs make a comment about how the featured artist looks like him. And maybe how you might’ve fallen in love with him. Yunho’s feeling swelled when he heard of those comments. In fact, he was so happy that he heard it from them. But you on the other hand, why do you still deny your feelings for him? Why was it so hard for you to be up front and honest with what you feel? Is it because he works as your manager? You’re in the same company as he is? And that you kept insisting to be professional? At this point, Yunho would resign if that was the case. If he can’t have you because of his line of work, he would be more than pleased to resign and be in your arms everyday. 

“Get lost. Just back off. I really can’t breathe. Wherever I go, wherever I am. It’s frightening. The you who follows me.” 

Yunho managed to lift the debts off his family. After paying the debts, he was able to even buy a new home for them around Gangnam area. His parents hesitated on the idea at first since owning a land in Gangnam costs way more than renting, Yunho told them not to worry. Not to worry since he is being paid royalty in his job. After that, he was able to spoil you with luxurious gifts and live with you in your apartment. More like forced himself into your home. 

“This ain’t right, this isn’t love. It just hurts me, don’t be like this. I loved you. But I don’t now. Erase me from your memory.” 

And when the song was released, Yunho was all up for promoting it. He made everyone he know listen to the song in various streaming platforms and watch the MV as well. Whether you would like it or not, Yunho is here to stay in your life. Permanently. 

Yeosang: 

“Peekaboo! This is new, is this love? All my friends yell at me, they say I have a problem. I’m fine fine fine fine fine fine.” 

A small painted Yeosang lips as his eyes followed you on stage. He watched you as you danced in a tight red dress. That was his gift for you last Christmas to be exact. The designer brand didn’t really put it out for sale. They only made one and had it up for auction. It was a dress that accentuated your curves and complimented your skin. Yeosang won the auction and had it included in your next comeback. 

“Tag you’re it! It’ll be fun! I’ll include you here. Til the moon hangs on the jungle gym, let’s play” 

Since Yeosang is someone who holds a high position in the company, he made a proposal to be your sponsor. At first, your members didn’t like the idea since sponsors have a bad reputation attached to it. But you were naive and still proceeded with the sponsorship. You thought it would go bad, but Yeosang made you feel comfortable in his home and gave you all the fame that you wanted. Never did he once ask anything that was against your morals. 

“Peekaboo! It’s strange, you’re different. I stop this game and I look at you again. I’m not a fraid, because I just felt that a new story will begin” 

Your members were still cautious about Yeosang orbitting around you. There was something about him that they could not lay a finger on. Scared that they would find their contracts terminated the following day. But seeing you happy, they felt like they needed to stop. As long as you are happy, they are happy. Yeosang included. 

“Don’t worry, my love. You’re safe with me. Anyone who accuses you will come to me first.” 

San: 

It was 9pm when you made a surprise V live alone in the recording room of your company building. San was actually nearby, he was hid inside the convenient store where he bumped into you before. 

“Hello everyone! Have you all eaten? I missed you alot.” He watches his Y/N pout in the screen. His heart raced a bit, 

“I ate already, my love. Don’t worry.” San responds, as if it was only him that you were talking to. 

“I made a new song and I’m in the recording room. Apparently, I was given permission to spoil the song for you!” Y/N happily takes her phone and draws it closer to the company phone of where she is doing her live. 

“I wanna be shampoo Trickling down your hair I wanna embrace you With my strong fragrance  I will wrap around your entire body With white foam  So even the mirrors can’t see you I will cover you  So no one can have you You won’t ever get rid of my scent” 

“That’s all the spoil for now.” Y/N stops the recording and turns the camera to her face again. She leaned her face closer and read a few comments about how would the fans think. 

“What is your inspiration behind this song?” She read aloud. She leaned back in her seat with her lips pursed. “In all honesty, I met a male fan last week. I actually bumped into him and I was able to smell his perfume and...” Y/N paused. “He smelled so good that...was it possible to fall in love just by smelling their perfume?” Y/N chuckles softly. 

San had his eyes wide. The song was about him. He felt like bursting from his seat but he refrained himself from doing so. 

“I hope he isn’t a weird fan. I also have a fan who constantly bothers me even at the late hours. It’s bothering me. And I hope the person stops soon.” Y/N said. Double jackpot! He got mentioned twice by you. He couldn’t wait until the song releases, he was already booking train station platforms in honor for the release of your song. 

Mingi: 

Was it possible to fall in love with just a touch? Ever since the incident at the Incheon Airport, your company has become stricter and hired more bodyguards when it comes to outside activities. From what you heard, VS Media is even rewriting their rules when it comes to fan and idol gift giving. 

“Come on, let me play some more. Why treat babies gently, I cannot count on you, my age. You’ve walked in any magic. I am the one for you. Everyday I wake up. This is mine.” 

Ever since the incident at the airport, you slightly became uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the dorm. Despite your feelings, rest assured that your members were always there for you. 

“I am not sleeping today. I remember my eyes. I’m not sleeping.”

It’s been a month since you stepped foot inside the airport again, things were going okay. You were able to walk inside and through the gates without any problem. The fans still following your footsteps, you tried to loosen up yourself a bit - smiling and waving at them. Nothing could go wrong. 

Until, you saw a figure from your peripheral vision. You turned your head to take a look, but no one was there. Strange. As you and your group were able to board the plane, you took a seat near the window and pulled out your lyrics notebook. Flipping through the pages, you stopped at an unfinished work. The unfinished work is your solo song used as an outro for Starlight’s upcoming full album. 

“Babe babe babe in your eyes. Babe babe babe in your hand. My appearance is babe babe babe babe. I want to hear it again.”

“Are you writing a song?” You were startled with the question. You turned your head and didn’t noticed how a man with a mask and cap sat besides you already. 

“Yes I am” You spoke softly. “Can I read it?” the man besides you asked. 

You hesitantly gave him the notebook, the man took it and read through the lyrics. 

“I like how you composed the song. It’s still in its raw form too. You’re a genius.” The man complimented. You smiled and thanked him for the compliment. The next thing you knew shocked you. 

The man placed a hand on your knee, his other free hand removed his mask and cap. Song Mingi. At that moment, you couldn’t process what was happening. All you knew was that your mind kept telling you to tell at least your members. But your body started heating up at his touch. 

“Did you miss me?” 

Wooyoung: 

Wooyoung had disguised himself as the photographer for your album. The night before it came, he worked on creating his fake ID and borrowed a spare camera to use for the production. 

“At that smile that sees my eyes. For me, the whole world is bathed in light. Hold my hands and I close my eyes. I hope this time stops here.”

Wooyoung’s breath almost took away as he saw you in black under shorts and wrinkled and almost unbuttoned white button down. He didn’t know what the concept was but his eyes were already feasting on your body, not ever feeling full. 

“Fall in love more deeply, you and I. Let’s fall in deeply, you and I together. The one thing that I want. You seep into me, you spread inside of me.” 

“Ms Y/N taking the bold move of doing her first sexy concept.” Y/N’s manager teased her. Wooyoung knew everyone who was on set. Him, Y/N, Y/N’s manager, stylist, make up artist and a few production crew that wasn’t part of VS Media. 

“What’s the story behind this concept?” Y/N’s manager asked, Wooyoung could only stare in awe at Y/N. Never did he see this side of her. He always knew of Y/N as the sweet and bubbly girl in soft concepts. But of course, Wooyoung love to break the types. 

“I actually like to search my name on the internet. And I came across fanfics of myself.” Y/N chuckles. Oh that sweet sound that made Wooyoung’s heart beat fast. The audio recorders can never outdo it. 

“There is a certain blog that possibly does a lot. That blog posts photos of me, writes fanfics and posts my schedules too. He’s doing god works for my other fans.” Y/N chuckles. As the production of the photoshoot started, Wooyoung did his best to capture the real beauty of this side of Y/N. 

“What a hardworking fan. What’s the name of the blog?” 

“ForY/N” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widens as he heard the name of his blog. His blog inspired you to make a song....about him? 

“Filling my whole heart. With you, I feel my heart. Fall in love more deeply, you and I. Let’s fall in deeply, you and I together.” 

“The way that person writes really amazes me. I’d like to get to know the person.” Y/N explains. His mind fell into a spiral. Part of him wanted the song to be released already but there was also a part of him that wanted the song to be released for him only. 

“Wish will soon become tomorrow. Today is more heart fluttering than yesterday. I want to go together with you. Closer to the place where my dream reaches.”

The bonus thing about what Wooyoung did today is that as a photographer, he was able to keep some of the photos. Running away even with some. 

Jongho: 

Jongho fell in line for the release of your album. He was actually second in line as he was actually camping outside of the building of your company. 

“Everyday I called out your name, about a thousand times, about ten million times Before you finally heard it Cut and rewind, why can’t you be mine? Ooh the one who spins my head like this It’s you, just running running running around you  My repeatedly-midnight promise  I don’t know what to do”

Jongho, who had his arms crossed over his chest, looked up and down to turn around where that song was coming from. He hasn’t heard of this song but he knew that was your voice.

“Crazy love!  I love you, love you, hate, foolish Crazy love!  I love you Make me feel so high Love!  I love you, love you, hate, foolish Crazy love!  I hate you Make me so bad It’s weird, the more I fall for you I’m sorry, I’ll hate you I don’t know, I can’t explain this I’m trapped in a labyrinth of strange emotions”

The whole room was adorned with your own merchandise and on the TV display was actually an MV of your b side. Jongho took a basket and grabbed a handful of your limited and regular version of your albums, along with a packet of your photocards and a griptok. 

As he was in line to pay for his orders, in which his basket was filled as he actually bought more of your items. You made a sudden appearance into the room. For Jongho, he felt as if the room got brighter when you suddenly stepped inside. When it was his turn to pay for his items, the people behind the counter were amazed at how many he was able to fit into his basket. 

Tapping his feet impatiently, he wanted to be able to greet you before you left the room. When his bag was handed to him, he immediately took it and sped walk towards your direction, talking to a few. 

He felt as if the gods were with him. As he drew closer to you, the ones you were talking to left and it just you and him now. 

“Hello Y/N!” Jongho greeted. You turned to him happily. “Hello!” 

“I really really like this song of yours!” He gushed happily. “Can you tell me about it?” 

You nodded happily. “The song is actually about someone who makes me feel happy, the idea of love in a dangerous way? The idea send me thrills.” You chuckled. Jongho felt ecstatic. Beyond the moon even. You wrote a song about him! 

That afternoon when he got home, he made sure that everyone in Seoul would be able to hear the song that you made. It was for him so he had full brag rights to do so. 

#ateez #Ateez hongjoong #ateez mingi #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #ateez smut #ateez yeosang #ateez jongho #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez wooyoung #ateez yandere #kpop yandere

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter V

Once back in Lestallum, the group reported to Talcott and Jared about their finds. As they were about to leave the Leville, Noctis experiences another headache. In order to dissect the source of his headaches, they decided to take a closer look at the Disc of Cauthess from the outlook. When they arrived, they ran into two familiar faces.

"What a coincidence," the auburn-haired man smiled eerily at the group.

Gladio crosses his arms. "I'm not so sure it is."

The man strolled up to them, leaving his spiky-haired companion behind. He came to a stop in front of (Y/n). "Oh, my. You must be the lovely maiden my dear companion spoke of. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, my dear." He bowed politely before trying to reach out and grab her hand. However, Prompto reached out and pulled the girl away from him before the man could touch her.

"You know this guy?" The spirit whispered to the blonde.

"We kinda had a run-in with him in Galdin Quay," Prompto answered.

The auburn-haired man was unfazed by the marksman's reaction and decided to back away, changing the subject in the process. "Aren't nursery rhymes curious things? Like this one: "From the deep, the Archaean calls... Yet on deaf ears, the gods' tongue falls, The King made to kneel, in pain, he crawls.""

Prompto, who now stood in front of (Y/n), asked, "So how do we keep him on his feet?"

"You need only heed the call. Visit the Archaean and hear his plea." He spun around to face them, his smile never wavering. "We can take you."

Prompto looked around at his friends. "We in?"

Noctis was unsure of the men and didn't trust either of them. "I don't know."

"We take a ride..." The sharpshooter began.

"...but watch our backs," Gladio finished.

"Fair enough," Ignis said.

Noctis agreed with his friends. "Let's do it."

(Y/n) hadn't been paying attention to their conversation. Her golden eyes were focused on the familiar spiky-haired man who she had met yesterday. She never got his name, but there's no way she could forget his appearance. She was torn from her thoughts when Prompto shook her shoulder. Looking away from the emerald-eyed man, she stared into the blonde's cerulean eyes. "Huh?"

"You okay?" Prompto asked. He glanced at the man who had yet to speak, then back at the girl. "Isn't that the guy from yesterday?"

"It is..." She was even more suspicious of him than the auburn-haired man. She didn't trust either of them, but respected the boys' decision to allow them to be their escort for a short time.

The auburn-haired man smiles and begins walking toward the car park with his companion by his side. "I'm not one to stand on ceremony, but such an occasion calls for an introduction. Please, call me "Ardyn." And this..." He gestures to the man beside him. "Is Callyx. He's a dear old friend of mine. Come with us to the car park. That's where I left my automobile. She's a dear old thing. Pales next to your Regalia, but she's never let me down. So we take two vehicles-a convoy of sorts. Shall we?"

When arriving at Ardyn's car, the auburn-haired man turned to face the group. "All set?"

"Let's get this over with," Noctis sighed.

"Allow me to do the honor of assigning your driver... I choose you!" Ardyn pointed at the raven-haired boy.

"Fine by me."

"I do have one final request," Callyx spoke up with his smooth voice. His emerald eyes focused on (Y/n). "Your car will be cramped with five people. The lady should ride with us."

"No way!" Prompto shouted. "(Y/n)'s staying with us."

"Yeah. We're not gonna let her go with you two," Noctis replied.

"I only wish to speak with her on our drive over to the Disc." Callyx lifted his t-shirt up a little ways to reveal the jade gemstone embedded in his abdomen.

The spirit gasped at the sight. "You're a guardian, too?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"But your eyes..."

He smirked. "Contacts."

"Oh..."

He took a step closer to her, alerting the royal retinue. Prompto went to pull the girl back when Noctis moved to stand between the two spirits. Callyx noticed how tense the four boys were and raised his hands in surrender. "I'm not going to hurt her. There's something important I have to discuss with her."

"Then do it here and now," Gladio said with a faint growl.

(Y/n) broke free from Prompto's hold and stepped around Noctis to stand directly in front of Callyx. "What's so important that they can't hear it but your friend can?"

"Because I trust him and not your friends. If you don't ride with us, you'll never learn the truth about what the empire is planning."

Her mouth opened and closed. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't think of anything. If the information is important and the only cost was riding in their car, she would do it. "Fine. I'll ride with you."

"What?" Prompto gasped.

She casted a reassuring smile towards the blonde. "I'll be fine, Prom. If we can learn what the empire is doing, I'll ride with them."

"Are you certain of your decision, (Y/n)?" Ignis asked.

"Yes."

"B-But..." Prompto began.

Ardyn, however, interrupted him. "You drive your car, I drive mine, and the maiden comes with Callyx and I. With that decided, let us be off."

Prompto stared in shock, watching (Y/n) climb into the backseat of the red car alongside Callyx. He bit his tongue, deciding to hold himself back after seeing her resolve. Reluctantly, he got into the Regalia with his friends. Like a child, he pouted as he watched the red car leave the parking lot.

Outside of Lestallum, the two automobiles sat side by side. Ardyn glanced toward the boys inside the Regalia. "Just to be clear, this isn't a race, it is a chase. You're not to pass me. Lose sight of me, and you'll lose your way. And no tailgating. An accident would spoil the trip."

Noctis, who was behind the wheel, groaned. "All right, all right. Let's hit the road already."

"As you wish. Drive safely, now."

(Y/n) casted Prompto one last smile before they took off. After being a few minutes on the road, she looked over at her fellow spirit. "So, Callyx, what did you wanna tell me?"

The emerald-eyed man glanced at Ardyn for a split second before sighing. "How familiar are you with the conduit?"

"The first time I heard about it was from Noctis. Besides that, I know nothing about it."

"Well then, I guess an explanation is in order." Callyx combed a hand through his spiky black hair. "Centuries ago, there used to be seven Astrals. But all that changed when the seventh god disappeared. No one knows why and most of Eos has forgotten about him. The mighty Brahma, the creator of the universe, vanished without a trace. However, the conduit is rumored to be the only person who can hear and speak to Brahma. They are also the person the Astral has chosen to embody his power and act as his vessel in order to aid the True King."

"And what does this have to do with the empire?" (Y/n) inquired.

"The only beings possible of being the conduit are spirits. Humans are frail and unable to embody the power of an Astral. Our people are being targeted by the empire. They're slaughtering guardians left and right to prevent Brahma's return. I'm only telling you this because you need to know how much danger you are in. If you want to protect yourself, you need to find a safe place to hide. Leave those men and find a place to-"

"Oh, I don't think so," (Y/n) interrupted him. "Have you forgotten? Guardians are meant to protect those that gave them life. There's no way I'm going to leave Prompto to save my own skin. I care too much about him to leave him behind."

"You wouldn't be the first spirit to latch on to a human..." Callyx crossed his legs. "Then again, by the look on that boy's face, you mean a lot to him. Guess I'm kind of jealous."

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?" She sighed.

"Yeah..."

The conversation died. (Y/n) rested her arm on the door, cupping her chin with her palm. She glanced out at the passing scenery, admiring it to distract her from the two men in the car with her. She prayed to the Astrals this road trip would end soon.

A little ways behind the red vehicle was the Regalia. Noctis kept a good distance between them and Ardyn's car to prevent an accident. While the prince, Gladio, and Ignis were chatting away about the two mysterious men, Prompto stared at the car in front of them. His fingers tapped against his knee repeatedly, his leg shaking up and down. His right arm rested on top of the car door with his hand clenched in a fist and resting against his cheek.

When Gladio noticed the blonde's lengthy silence, he glanced at him. Seeing the sharpshooter's gaze locked on the car in front of them, he chuckled. "You that worried, blondie?"

"Of course I am!" Prompto yelled. "(Y/n)'s in a car with two weirdos! Not to mention, one of those weirdos tried to hit on her yesterday!"

"You're freaking out over nothing."

"Wha-no!"

"By the way (Y/n) carried herself in the grotto, I do believe she is quite capable of handling anything or anyone who dares cross her path," Ignis stated.

"I know she's strong, but that doesn't stop me from worrying about her..." Prompto muttered. He managed to look away from the car they were following and pulled out his camera. He scrolled through the various pictures he's taken of (Y/n) so far, admiring her beauty from every angle.

After spending 15 minutes scrolling through pictures, Prompto lifted his head and realized they were pulling over. He glanced around in confusion as they pulled into the Cauthess Coernix Station.

Noctis pulled the Regalia up beside Ardyn's car just as the man got out and asked, "What say we call it a day here?"

""What say" we continue on to Cauthess?" Gladio retorted as he and the other boys climbed out of the Regalia.

"The Archaean's not going anywhere."

"Neither are we, under your stewardship," Ignis replied.

"So we make camp...with Ardyn," Prompto groaned.

"Hell no," Noctis quipped.

"Might as well get the tent up," Gladio said.

Oh, I'm afraid Callyx and I have never really been ones for the outdoors. We shall foot the bill, so let us stay at the caravan over yonder," Ardyn stated.

(Y/n) turned her head towards the male spirit standing beside her. "You're a hunter. Don't you camp out a lot?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean I enjoy it," Callyx explained.

"That's... Okay, yeah. Good point."

"Will all of us even fit in the caravan?" Noctis asked.

"Only one way to find out," Ardyn smirked before walking off with his friend.

Once Ardyn and Callyx were gone, (Y/n) sauntered over to the boys. She placed a hand on her hip with a frown. "Can we talk somewhere in private?"

"Oh, no," Prompto gasped. He rushed over to the (h/c)-haired girl and grabbed her arms, shaking her back and forth. "What did they do to you?! Tell me, (Y/n)!"

"H-Hey, take it easy, Prom. They didn't do anything to me." She grabbed his arms to stop him from shaking her. "I just wanted to share with you all what Callyx had to say."

"Then shall we make for the caravan?" Ignis suggested.

"That'd be good."

They entered the caravan. Noctis and Prompto sat on the small wooden bench while Gladio and Ignis decided to stand. (Y/n) closed the door behind them and leaned against it. Wishing not to beat around the bush, she jumped straight to the point. "The empire's hunting down spirits and killing them."

"What?" Ignis gaped in shock.

"What do they hope to gain from that?" Gladio inquired.

"This conduit you heard about from the marshal... It can only be a guardian. Whoever this conduit is has the ability to hear and speak to the forgotten Astral and act as his vessel," she said. "By killing spirits, the empire hopes to stop Brahma from returning."

"Hold up," Noctis spoke up. "There's another Astral?"

"Brahma, the creator of the universe. He's known as the forgotten Astral. Not many know about him, but apparently the empire does."

"Can we really trust this information?" Gladio questioned.

"I...I'm not sure," she confessed. "I don't trust Callyx, but he genuinely looked worried about it when he spoke to me."

"If he is telling the truth, does that mean...?" Prompto gazed at the girl, worried for her safety. "Does that mean the empire will try to kill you?"

"Well..."

Noctis stood up. "Let them come. They're already crawling up our asses anyway."

"What more could they possibly do?" Ignis asked.

"We'll deal with any imperial bastards that cross our path just like we always do," Gladio claimed.

"Yeah!" Prompto cheered. "All of us are a team."

"Team?" (Y/n) parroted.

"Unless you wish not to be," Ignis stated.

"No, it's just..." She rubbed a hand up and down her arm. "I never expected you three to accept me so easily."

"We were all skeptical at first, but you proved yourself in the cave. I thought our whole groove would've been messed up with you around, but you proved me wrong." Gladio patted her on the shoulder. "You fit right in, short stuff."

"Sh-Short stuff...?" She glanced around at the boys before examining her appearance. "Am I really that short?"

"Well... Yeah," Prompto answered. "B-But that's okay!"

She looked away, unamused. "Ugh..."

(Y/n) excused herself and left the caravan. She wandered towards the rear of the convenience store before setting her gaze on the Celestial Crescent. She tilted her head in curiosity when hearing a faint mumbling.

...ui...

She blinked in shock when she could make out a portion of what the voice was saying. "I'm going crazy..."

"What're you talking about?"

(Y/n) tore her gaze away from the darkening sky and looked at Callyx, deciding to lie. "It's nothing, really. I thought the colors of the Celestial Crescent were changing for a second, but my mind was playing tricks on me." She didn't trust him even after he shared information about the empire.

Callyx took a quick glance at the sky before looking at the (h/c)-haired girl, his hands hidden behind his back. "Do you ever hear voices whenever you gaze upon the Celestial Crescent?"

"If you mean the voices in my head, then yes."

Callyx chortled. "That's not what I meant."

She put on a friendly façade. "I know. I'm just messing with you. To answer your question-no, I don't hear voices. Am I supposed to?"

He shook his head. "Not unless you're the conduit. Brahma's consciousness resides within those cluster of stars. He searches for the perfect vessel to regain his physical body, only speaking to the spirit he deems worthy."

"Do we have any idea what'll happen to the conduit once Brahma takes control of their body?"

"Who knows? Maybe they become an empty shell, maybe there are no side effects whatsoever." Callyx suddenly outstretched one of his hands to touch her shoulder, but he stopped mid-way when a familiar bubbly blonde came bounding over calling the girl's name. "Guess I'll give you two some time alone."

Prompto eyed Callyx suspiciously as he walked past him. When he was out of sight, he walked up to (Y/n). "I was kinda getting worried when you didn't come back. Everything okay, (Y/n)?"

"Mhmm," she hummed with a smile. "Everything's peachy."

"I thought you might've been worried about this whole conduit thing. I mean, it is kinda scary the empire is going around and just killing spirits. Are you sure you're doing okay?"

"Really, I'm fine. No need to worry, Prom."

Suddenly, Prompto wound his arms around her and hugged her tightly. He pressed his cheek against her (h/c) hair, frowning sorrowfully. "Y'know, you might be a better liar than me, but I can tell when you're really worried about something, (Y/n). You scrunch up your nose and furrow your brows. I find it kinda...cute."

She sighed, burying her face into his chest. She wound her arms around his torso and mumbled, "I am scared. Scared for my people, scared for me. There aren't many of us, which makes it even more frightening. I'm also scared I'm putting you and the others in even more danger."

Prompto hugged her smaller frame as tight as he could without hurting her. "Hey, don't worry 'bout us. We can handle ourselves. There's no way the empire could defeat us! And..." He nuzzled his nose in her hair, inhaling her gentle scent. "I-We won't let anything happen to you. I know you're supposed to be the one protecting me, but I wanna protect you too. If you were to vanish, I...I wouldn't know what to do."

A warm, gentle smile blossomed on the spirit's face. "I'll never disappear, Prom. Whenever you need me, I'll be there. Even when you don't need me, I'll be by your side. You're stuck with me forever."

Prompto smiled widely. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He fell silent for a moment before clearing his throat, arms remaining tightly wound around (Y/n). "Hey, u-um... After we're done with this Disc business, there's something really important I wanna tell you."

"You can't tell me now?" She inquired.

"Of course not! It's, uh...really important, but I still need a day to...come up with the right words. Think you can wait?"

"Do I really have any other choice?"

"Nope."

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv x reader #final fantasy xv #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader #prompto argentum

[paladin-lynx]

Go Godot, Yeah!

Author’s Notes: This was inspired by Certified Weirdo’s Ace Attorney mod for Friday Night Funkin’ and a comment about it from a friend of mine that was something akin to, “The thing about the mod is that I can totally imagine Godot going into back alleys and rap battling against other lawyers because he’s just Like That.” And I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, so here we are. Go show Friday Night Funkin’ and Certified Weirdo some love, too! I banged this out when I had some free time during work, lol. I can continue this or other FNF-inspired pieces if people show interest. But for now, enjoy!

Ships Involved: Phoenix Wright x Miles Edgeworth (WrightWorth/NaruMitsu) if you squint

Setting: Non-specific, but I had it in my head that it’s during Trials and Tribulations (AA3) with Miles coming back to America early.

Trigger/Content Warnings: None

CONTAINS VARIOUS SPOILERS FOR ORIGINAL ACE ATTORNEY TRILOGY!

“It’s good to have you back, Miles.”

Miles blinked before hurriedly averting his gaze, clearing his throat. “Yes, well...I suppose it is nice to be back, in some ways.”

Phoenix smiled, able to spot the tinge of pink in Miles’s cheeks. Miles could take praise about his prosecuting skills just fine – he’d even gloat when someone commented on how talented he was – but when it came to something softer and more sentimental like this, he without a doubt found himself lost for words. Phoenix couldn’t help finding it kind of adorable, which of course led to him taking any opportunity he could to get Miles to blush.

It had been a while since they’d gotten to simply spend time together, but they both felt too antsy to just sit around and talk. And so they’d agreed to take a walk together and catch up. It had been a while since Miles had mulled around the L.A. streets, but not much had changed. And while their city wasn’t the prettiest or the safest by any means, it was still home. Phoenix knew that Miles felt more at ease overseas with his new responsibilities and with not having to deal with the bullshittery that came with being a lawyer in America, but Phoenix also knew that this would always be home for them. Miles would always have a place – and people – to come back to.

They walked rather aimlessly, having no specific destination in mind, although they’d have to get back to their respective homes eventually. But they soon found themselves at the train station and Phoenix smiled a bit to himself. He had barely left L.A. before becoming a lawyer, but this station was awfully familiar to him now with how often he had to travel to Kurain Village. He remembered when Maya had first left and he’d raced here to catch her before she was gone, making her promise that they’d see each other again. Of course, their reunion after that wasn’t the most ideal with Maya once again ending up behind bars, but now years later Phoenix couldn’t bring himself to be too upset with how things had gone. It just seemed par for the course at this point, and he wasn’t sure which was more concerning: the fact that events like that were so commonplace or the fact that he’d become numb to such things.

“Feeling nostalgic, Wright?”

Phoenix was snapped out of his reverie by Miles’s voice and he blinked at the other man. Miles was giving him a knowing half-smile, quirking an eyebrow, and now it was Phoenix’s turn to blush and look away, out at the tracks. “Maybe a bit. I’ve been coming here a lot lately. If you told me a few years ago that I’d be making regular pilgrimages to a village of spirit mediums, I’d call you crazy.”

Miles huffed out a chuckle, pushing his hands into his pants pockets. “I think if anyone told us even the smallest detail of what we’ve been up to since first entering the courtroom, we’d call them crazy. You see why I felt such the urgent need to flee the country.”

Phoenix broke into a little grin, nudging Miles with his elbow. “Including having to fake your own death?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope. I mourned you, Miles! You’ve gotta see it from my perspective. You didn’t even give an explanation. You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“Perhaps you should try seeing it from my perspective. I was going through quite a lot. I...wasn’t thinking clearly. I know now that the way I departed hurt people, but it wasn’t exactly on my mind then.”

“I know, I know,” Phoenix replied softly. Despite still being sore at Miles’s rather callous method of running away, Phoenix didn’t want to actually upset him or bring back bad memories. He knew that had been a rough time for Miles.

And so they stood there, on the platform, just watching the tracks in comfortable silence. Phoenix knew there’d be a train zooming by soon enough, but for now it was peacefully quiet.

“Trite!”

Phoenix barely even noticed how his shoulders seemed to instantly stiffen at that familiar voice and infuriating nickname. Furrowing his brow, he slowly turned and sure enough, by one of the shelters on the platform, was Godot with his usual grin, his visor glowing bright red in the low light of the station. Phoenix wouldn’t have questioned running into him in the city considering Godot most likely lived here, too, but he definitely had questions when he noticed the large speakers behind Godot and the microphone in the prosecutor’s hand. And of course, as always, his other hand was occupied by a cup of coffee. It was a miracle this man wasn’t dead yet with the obscene amount of caffeine he consumed.

“Who is that?” Miles asked, squinting slightly at Godot. “He seems familiar somehow...”

“Prosecutor Godot,” Phoenix greeted carefully, also to answer Miles’s question. “What, uh...What are you doing here?”

Godot just continued to grin at them. “I was waiting for you to show up, in fact. A little kitten told me you were heading out this way.”

“I don’t believe that’s how the phrase goes,” Miles commented whilst Phoenix just pulled a face at the choice of words.

“Don’t bother, Edgeworth. He’s just like this.” Phoenix took in a breath and looked to Godot again. Did that mean Godot had just been waiting here for him like some kind of creep? Who could have told Godot where he and Miles were going? Actually, there was one person. “...Maya?”

Godot chuckled, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. “I see you’re just as slow on the uptake outside the courtroom as you are inside it, Trite. Like a toddler seeing a magic trick for the first time.”

“He’s not wrong,” Miles muttered, causing Phoenix to give him a rather harsh nudge with his elbow.

“Whose side are you on?!”

“Well, you did mention he’s a prosecutor, so technically—”

“Oh, can it, Miles,” Phoenix huffed, ignoring the little amused smirk on Miles’s face, even if it made his heart skip a beat or two. He looked back at Godot with a scowl. “Alright, so I’m here. What of it?”

“Think fast,” Godot snickered, tossing something to Phoenix. The defense attorney definitely wasn’t prepared and fumbled for a moment before managing to clamp his hands around the object, frowning down at it.

Miles peeked at it over his shoulder. “A...microphone?” He looked over at Godot – who was still holding his own microphone – seemingly trying to figure out what was happening. Meanwhile, Phoenix was also trying to figure out what the absolute fuck was going on.

“What’s this for?” he asked cautiously, narrowing his eyes over at Godot.

The other man’s grin never wavered and he brandished his microphone. “What do you say to a little competition? A genuine battle between men to see who’s best.”

“Don’t we do that enough during trials?”

“There are countless angles to every person, Trite. Just like how you can spend every day of your life experimenting with brews in your attempts to find perfection. You may be a half-decent lawman, but that’s just one side of you.” Godot tilted his head in amusement. “I’m curious if you can hold your own on a different kind of battlefield. One that requires a bit more coordination than how you have a lucky streak of stumbling into conclusions in the courtroom.”

Phoenix was still lost, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. He finally just turned to Miles helplessly. Miles thought for a long moment – Phoenix could practically see the gears turning in his head – before he looked to Phoenix. “I believe...he’s asking you to have a singing contest.”

“Oh no no no,” Godot cut in before Phoenix could even fathom what his companion had said. “Close but no cigar, kid. Not singing. Any poor excuse of a soul can cobble together a tune and kindergarten-level lyrics.” He pointed his microphone at Phoenix. “I want you to rap battle me.”

Phoenix just stared, blinking several times, before looking at Miles again. “Am I dreaming? Or high?”

“No, you’re very much awake and the amount of sane you usually are,” Miles replied, crossing his arms. Phoenix hated how intrigued his friend looked.

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, Phoenix turned back to Godot. “So you came here, set up a speaker and mics, and have just been waiting for me to randomly come here just so you can ask me to rap against you? What’ll that prove? And how the hell is rapping more complicated than singing? It’s just talking to a beat. Anyone can do that.”

“Ha!” Godot shook his head. “So simple-minded, Trite. It’s like you’re still a boy instead of a man, seeing the world through your little keyhole. Rapping requires you to think on your feet. The pace is more urgent. Singing is going through your evidence piece by piece and praying to whatever god you follow that something sticks out to you. Rapping is like having the ultimate penalty hanging over your head the entire time, the guillotine blade waiting to slam down on your sorry neck. So I’ve been curious, Trite...” Godot grinned again. “You think you can keep up with me?”

Something about the way Godot said it, how he still had his microphone pointed at Phoenix like a sword, and that goddamn smug expression on his face lit a fire in Phoenix that he’d never felt before. He had never been the most musically inclined, but someone had to put Godot in his place. And here they were.

So he gritted his teeth and stepped forward, tightening the grip on his microphone. “It’ll be you who’s struggling to keep up with me, stoplight.”

“Ha! That’s the spirit,” Godot cackled, slamming his hand onto a button on the speakers so that they crackled to life.

Miles hummed thoughtfully from where he stood watching. “Ridiculous...But I can’t say this won’t be interesting.”

#this is so silly but i hope it's entertaining at least lol #Ace Attorney #aa phoenix wright #aa miles edgeworth #aa godot #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #godot #AA spoilers #Ace Attorney spoilers #AA #lynx tales #mine #writing #fic #fanfiction #WrightWorth #NaruMitsu #FNF #Friday Night Funkin #crossover #AU #Certified Weirdo #i don't have a fancy queue tag

[saltedpeppermintmocha]

into the night (bakugou x reader) - Chapter 2/?

Summary:

You were born to die.

It is a fact you’ve known since your quirk first manifested, and one you have been denying for just as long. You refuse your supposed fate and try to live the best life you can while remaining undetected.

But maybe fate has another plan. A chance encounter on a mountainside changes your life forever.

Chapter One

MATURE : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT // 18+

The village has not changed much since you last visited. It almost makes you feel as if you never left. For many, this would be a comfortable thought; however, you left to get away from this sort of monotony. The city is always moving, always changing and updating, for better or for worse. You hadn’t even realized that your favourite dessert place had moved until one week you went and walked into a new bar. While you mourned the desert place, the bar had been a welcome addition to the area.

You noticed early in life that most people didn’t leave the village. Maybe it was the comfort of monotony, maybe it was the money it took to actually leave. Nobody in the village was rich, and it took you saving every yen you could for too many years to be able to leave. Most of the kids you went to school with remain here, working in local shops or restaurants. So when you walk through the village with Dad, everybody wants to come to say hello.

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, you would spend more time talking to each person, but your nerves about the mountain pull you quickly from person to person until finally the small store comes into view.  An old man sits on a chair outside, seemingly staring into nothing. He looks over at your arrival, startling a bit with a large smile forcing its way onto its face. He calls out your name.

He looks the same as you remember him, but watching him struggle to pull himself from the chair is new. You frown slightly, rushing towards him to help him up. Your help immediately turns into a hug. “Welcome home my dear.”

“Thank you, Tanaka.” You reply happily, hugging him back. “How have you been?”

“Oh, just great dear.” He pulled back from the hug. “And you? Have you found yourself a husband yet?”

You hold back a frustrated sound. This shit again?! Dad coughs behind you, struggling to hide his laughter. “Not yet.” You reply, slightly more patient with Tanaka than your father. “I have to find the right one, you know?”

“Well, you better hurry up now. You are not getting any younger!” He says, as if his words are not a punch to the gut. “When you find him, make sure to come visit. I know your mother would-”

“Tanaka.” Surprisingly, it’s your father that interrupts. “I believe she has something to ask you?” He gestures at you.

“Ah, yes!” You reply quickly, thankful for the quick change in subject. “Do you have a guest at Fuccanchi?”

The old man blinks a few times, seemingly confused about the change in topic. But he gets it after a moment. “Oh, yes I do, dear.” He stops there. You wait a moment, but no more information comes. Alright then.

“Is there any chance it is a guy around my age?”

“I would think so.” His head tilts to the side, considering. Then his eyes open wide. “Oh, I see. I don’t know if he is single, but he didn’t come with a wife. I will ask him next time I see him.” Single? Uh-

“Ack, no, nope!” You immediately shut that down, hands flailing uselessly in front of you. “That is not what I meant. I saw him on the mountain and I was just concerned for his safety.” You pause. “Just to make sure, is this guy a blond? Um...he looked strong? But he was super quiet.”

“Yes, that sounds like him.” Tanaka taps at his face. “Such a strange young man. Maybe it is for the best that you don’t get married. A husband like that is no good.”

“Tanaka!” You groan, running your hand down your face. “I just want to make sure he is okay. Have you seen him around today?"

He takes another too-long pause, but you wait it out. Then he replies. “I saw him this morning while I was putting out food for the cats.” He continues. “Chico has been so naughty recently, I don’t know what to do about her. And Haru got into the brambles, it took me forever to get him clean…”

You let Tanaka's voice fade to the background as he spoke about the cats. Your mind was on more important things. This morning, he saw the guy this morning. You let out a long breath of relief, that nagging feeling in your gut finally releasing. If he was here this morning, he is fine. The mountain didn’t swallow him up. You didn’t have to go to the police. You can forget all about him now.

Finally.

After letting go of the asshole on the mountain, the rest of your day is calm and peaceful. Dad stays to chat with Tanaka, so you filter through the various small shops, buying items you don’t really need just to help out the owners. To stimulate the local economy.

You meet up with a few childhood friends for dinner at a family restaurant. It is a bit awkward at first, as are all conversations where you haven't spoken in years, but it soon gets moving. They ask about the city and your life, often replying ‘ I could never do that' or ‘I could never live there’ to your stories. You don’t answer that you feel the same about their lives.

It is only when you are done eating, and you are partially zoning out while one of them tells an extremely long story about a new television show they are watching, that you hear something from the mountain. You perk up at the odd sound, but nothing looks out of place or weird.

“Is there something happening on the mountain?” You ask, rudely cutting off whoever was speaking at the time. They go quiet, and you listen closely. You hear it again, faint from distance: a booming sound. It sounds like a demolition, maybe. Are they taking down one of the huts on the mountain? But that wouldn’t need a full demolition.

“What are you talking about?” Saneka asks.  

“The noises.” You reply, frowning when you meet three other confused faces. “Do you guys not hear them?” They shake their heads.

“I think I heard something last night.”  Nakamura puts forward. “I was up late reading. It is the best time to read, you know, with the quiet. But there was suddenly this loud banging sound-”

“You sure that wasn’t coming from your mom's room?” Ito smirked.

“Hey! Take that back!” Nakamura frowned, slamming his hands down on the table. The conversation quickly deteriorates into jokes, the topic dropped entirely. You try to push it from your mind, deciding to have an extra look tomorrow when you head out.

The dinner ends relatively quickly after that, the three of them headed in one direction and you in the other. You exchange phone numbers and promise to keep in touch. A promise that none of you are planning on keeping. You head home, casually listening for more sounds in the mountain that don’t come. The lights are on when you make it back.

“I’m home!” You call out, toeing off your shoes.

“Welcome back,” Dad calls out. You find him in the living room, watching some show on the television. He looks up at you with a smile. “How was dinner?”

You shrug. “Fine.” Plopping down beside him on the couch, you change the subject. “What are you watching?” He gives you a look, knows when you are deflecting, but still goes off on an explanation you only partially listen to.

You don’t want to tell him how that dinner just reinforced your decision to leave the village. You don’t want to tell him that every word from your old friend's mouth was so boring and slow that you felt like you were going insane. You cant tell him how your heart screams for the hustle and bustle of your city and your job.

Dad falls asleep early nowadays. You place a blanket over him, turn off the television and lights, and head upstairs. It’s an early night for you too. Or, it is supposed to be. You need to be up early to tackle the mountain.

But your mind keeps returning to your childhood friends. How did you all grow up to be so different? What happened? Saneka, the beauty queen of your class, who swore she would be an American actress, decided to marry Nakamura, the class weirdo who once ate glue. Is Ito, the man who wanted nothing more than to prove his worth by moving to the city, really happy working at a store in this village? They all had such big dreams. Did they give them up to live a quiet, peaceful life? Are they really happy like this?

“Move to Makkari?”

Your father's quiet plea rattles around in your brain. Could you be happy here, like them? Could you give up everything for a quiet, peaceful life? A safe life? What would you even do? Get a job with Tanaka and Ito at the storei? Find love amongst the minimal prospects and live a slow life? Your heart hurts at the thought. You look out your window from your bed. It isn’t a good angle to see the mountain, but the sight still does not disappoint. Stars dot the cloudless sky, constellations you once knew dance above your head. It is beautiful here. Beauty that cannot exist in a city.

You let out a frustrated groan and turn over to bury your face in your pillow. This train of thought will keep you awake for hours, you need to stop. Reaching over to the nightstand, you grab and your phone and find your music app. It takes a moment, but you find some nice background music to hopefully drown out your thoughts and put your earphones in. The sounds are able to relax you and give you something else to focus on rather than your own problems.

Luckily, you fall asleep not too long after.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

You scream awake, sitting straight up with hands reaching up to cover your ears. Holy fuck that is loud. When your ears hit earphones, you grab them harshly and yank them out. The sound instantly gets quieter, distant now as they rest in your lap.

Well, that's a shocking way to wake up. Your body feels weird after waking up so suddenly, buzzing a bit as if you are in danger. You give yourself a few moments to just breathe until your body calms down, your brain mentally going through everything you need to do before your hike today. You are not planning to make it to the top, but you are hoping to make it at least further than the rocky ledge of yesterday.

Despite the sudden awakening, you feel sluggish as you finally make your way out of bed. It takes you a bit longer than normal to get everything done, but you still make it out the door within your desired time. You stop in at the local cafe, grabbing a large coffee, and heading out to the mountain. The coffee kicks in by the time you make it there, body buzzing with caffeine and excitement for your day. You park your car in its regular spot, an unassuming area with the smallest hint of a trail, and head out.

The sun is getting high in the sky by the time you pass the forest and reach the foot of the mountain. With the days getting shorter, maybe you should have tried to come earlier, but as it is you will have enough time for what you want to do. You make a quick reminder to start even earlier next time and begin the trek up.

It's a nice day, honestly, and you are enjoying yourself immensely as you climb. The trees have lost a lot of their leaves already, but there is a beauty in that as well. You hum quietly to yourself as you walk, eyes continuously scanning the surrounding area for any threats. With the trees as bare as they are, it’s actually pretty easy to keep an idea of your surroundings for most of the trail; however, up ahead it takes a rough corner through a group of rocks. The rocks completely obscure your view, and you are prepared to take that area slower than normal.That's when it happens.

You flinch as a figure rounds the corner ahead, coming into view quickly. A man. Your hand instinctively goes to fiddle at the clip for the spray. It takes you only a moment to recognize him as he turns, also pausing a second as he sees you.

It’s him. The asshole of the mountain.

He looks like he is on his way down, which is a bit odd considering the time of day. Did he stay overnight on the mountain?

You look over his outfit. It's slightly better than before. At least he is wearing a jacket, although it looks too light for the climate. But you still don’t see any protection items. He scoffs, bringing your attention back to his face. He starts to walk down the trail towards you, hands relaxed in his jacket pocket despite the rough terrain.

“You really should wear more protection if you are coming up to the mountain.”  The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Maybe from a childhood of warnings and scary stories, of seeing people go up the mountain to never return, or possibly just frustration from your job at people who do not take the measures to protect themselves.

Your words are a bit sudden, sure, but the man doesn’t even acknowledge them. His eyes flicker to you briefly before he continues his descent. You are thrown off, made awkward at the complete lack of acknowledgment. What the? Who just completely ignores someone when they are talking? It’s obvious that you are talking to him, right?

“Hey, uh, sorry if I insulted you or something the other day.” You attempt, forcing a small smile. You reach for the spray at your hip and unclip it, offering it out. “But you really should take the bear spray. One of the villagers saw one the other day and…” You trail off as the man walks by you, completely ignoring your words.

Once again you are left standing holding out bear spray. What the absolute fuck. Your hand clutches the spray harder in anger as you spin to face his back. Well, fuck you too then . You narrow your eyes and raise a middle finger to his back, grinning when it goes unnoticed. Hah, take you fuck-

You hit the ground. The world spins wildly around you. The air is knocked out of you immediately and you gasp in the cold autumn air. Your hands grasp at the ground as if trying to steady you.

What happened?

You push yourself up a bit, glancing down at your body. Your right foot rests awkwardly on top of a tree root. You hadn’t seen it, too preoccupied with trying to one-up the asshole without him knowing. You move your foot a bit, but it doesn’t feel injured. It's a lucky break, honestly, as getting injured up here could spell a lot of trouble for you.

But you don’t feel too lucky as you lock eyes with the only other person on the trail. He has stopped walking, looking over his shoulder at you. You attempt the most prideful glare you can from your back on the ground. His eyes narrow briefly, but he turns to continue his walk down the mountain.

You wait until he is too far to see before letting out a loud groan. Your head rests back on the ground for a moment. Fuck. Of course, he saw that. Of course, the world wouldn’t give you this one win. After another moment of self-deprecation, you pull yourself up and wipe angrily at the dirt on your clothes.

In theory, the rest of the hike goes by peacefully. Nothing else happens, and normally you would be excited looking around at the nature surrounding you. In reality, you spend the entire time grumbling about a certain blonde. You make it to the same rock ridge you had been on the other day and climb up. The rocks are cold under your ass as you sit, a break. Part of you wants to give up for the rest of the day, your mood is already horrible. But you need to push forward if you want to make it to the top by the end of your month here.

After taking a quick look around the area, you reach into your pack and grab your sandwich and water bottle. Extremely basic, but you couldn’t be bothered to put more effort in this morning. You eat slowly, your brain unfortunately, stuck on the blond from earlier. What is his deal anyway? You chew angrily.

Once done, you shove the sandwich container and water bottle back into your pack, careful not to leave anything on the trail. You stretch and slide down the rocky ledge back to the trail.

A sound to your right. Something is there. Your head swings towards it, eyes focusing immediately on a potential threat.

It’s actually not a man this time. It's a bear. Fuck.

You reach down to your hip. Your hand grasps at just air. The spray is gone. Where the fuck did it... oh. You had been holding it when you fell, after offering it to the asshole. It must have rolled away. You didn’t even notice, too preoccupied with your anger.  

“Fuck.” You back away slowly, quietly, hoping it hasn't seen you but unable to properly see its face in the trees. Another sound. Shit. It’s definitely walking towards you. You begin to take quicker steps backward, abandoning quietness for speed and distance from the creature. Reaching backward, you try to get a hand into your pack to grab the spare spray.

It charges, and against all things you know you should do, you panic. You let out a scream and turn, running into the trees.

Your heart pounds in your chest, breath catching harshly as you bolt through the trees. You dart between trees in hopes that the bigger animal can't maneuver as well. You don’t know where you are going, or exactly how far the bear is. But you can hear it. It is there. Getting closer every moment. Fuck. You can’t outrun a bear.

You’re gonna die. Fuck fuck.

There is a loud sound in the distance. A bang.

You can’t afford to think about it. You run,

A boom. You run.

Even closer now.

You run.

A boom behind you, large and wild, is all you hear before a powerful gust of hot wind rams into your back. You trip immediately, falling harshly to the ground and rolling into a tree. A cough rips out of your lungs. Your eyes snap open immediately after, hands pushing yourself up. Experience tells you not to stay down when danger is imminent. But the scene in front of you is not what you expect.

The area directly in front of you is destroyed. Where trees once stood are now scattered remains some smoking. In the middle of the new clearing is the blond. He stands with his back to you, looking into the trees. Your eyes immediately follow the direction he is looking to see a brown figure disappearing into the trees.

“What the fuck…” You whisper, blinking wildly. You lean back against the tree for support, closing your eyes briefly to focus on your breathing to calm down. Going into shock would not do you well right now. For a moment there is silence, the only sound being your deep breaths and the occasional snapping of a tree.

“Oi!” You open your eyes. The blond turns towards you, looking you over for a moment. “What happened to the fucking bear spray, idiot?” That unimpressed look appears on his face again, a scowl that sends shivers down your spine.

Fuck you. That is what your instincts tell you to say to that. But, he did just save your life. You grit your teeth together and force out a quiet ‘thank you’. You are not too sure if he heard you, but he doesn’t say anything. He turns, sliding his hands in his pocket to walk in the direction that you came from.

A second. He stops. “Well?” He looks back, intense gaze focused on you. “Move it, extra.”

Your eyes narrow, anger at being called an extra threatening to boil over. A calming breath and you pull yourself into a standing position.  “Right.” You follow.

The walk down is quiet. You follow the blond a few feet behind, looking around the forest as you go. There is no more movement around you, the forest dead as if nothing had ever happened. But what had happened? You look at the man in front of you, biting your lip. Obviously, this had something to do with the blonds' quirk, right? How did he even get up there so fast?

Wait. Is that the noise you’ve been hearing from the mountain?

Eventually, you reunite with the trail, only a bit before the mountain merges into a flat forest. He stops, taking a step back and gesturing with a grunt for you to begin walking down. You pass him beginning the trek, but he isn't following. You pause, looking back. The blond stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you with those intense eyes.

What the hell is he doing up on the mountain? Why is he here? You narrow your eyes, considering him.

“What?” His gruff voice sounds muffled. “Y’wanna fuckin autograph or somethin’.”

Huh?

“Huh?” You repeat your thoughts. “Um, no, I just…” You trail off. In the end, he doesn’t seem to be doing anything bad up on the mountain. “Listen. Thank you for, uh, saving me.” You speak more confidently. “But you can’t be using your quirk like this without a license.”

His eyes widen, light eyebrows rising in surprise. “Hah?!”

“I mean, you are not the first person to come here thinking they can practice on the mountain without anyone knowing.” You continue. “Not only does it pose a huge risk to the local wildlife and mountain as a whole, but if you got hurt there would be nobody to help you.”

“Help me ?!" That gruff voice got louder, angrier. His shoulders tense. You put your hands up in a placating gesture.

“I won’t say anything, promise. I owe you one after that.” You continue. “But I can hear you from the village, and I’m sure others will too. I’d hate for someone to call the police or the heroes on you.”

A brief silence, where the blond looks a weird mix of shocked and completely pissed off. You take that as your opportunity to leave before he gets really angry, turning on your heel and beginning the rest of your hike. Your hand runs over the extra can of bear spray now solidly clipped to your hip.

You make it through the bottom of the mountain quickly with no further incident. The sight of your car on the side of the road fills you with relief. Honestly, you were not sure if you’d ever see it again. You run your hand over the hood thoughtfully as you walk around to the driver's side.

A booming sound echoes from further up the mountain. You look up, but see nothing. A few more sounds after. Then quiet.

“Fucking idiot.” You muse, turning on the engine.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugouxreader #bakugou fanfiction #j writes #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you

[darkhymns-fic]

There's a sweetness to you

With a basket full of fresh strawberries, Colette takes a little detour outside of Iselia to make her sales until a strange dog leads her down a path to an out-of-the-way farmhouse - and to a gentle-eyed farmhand, whose smile lights something in her chest.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Fic request for @frayed-symphony​ based on this art of colloyd in a farmer AU! Expect fluff.

-

Colette found her bravery underneath the sinking sun, and all when she met Lloyd for the first time.

The farmhouse was a bit out of ways from her own, just a few miles over by the hillside, past the brush where some ranchers brought their cattle to graze during the hot summer months. It was so out of the way, that she wasn’t sure if it even had an address?

There’re no roads over here… And try as she might, she could see no signposts anywhere that indicated she was still going in the right direction. Only the landmarks of the small trickle of a river that curved by her left, and where the fields of wheat stalks rolled out before her by the hillside, like a shimmering sea of gold.

It had been quite an ordeal to get here…

Colette had stumbled numerous times on her journey, boots scraped in both mud and grass stains, her twin-plaited hair dangerously close to unraveling. Even her overalls had gotten a rip or two on its front, making her look as if she had just gotten into a fight with a bush and lost (which had basically happened.)

Every part of her showed the fatigue of her trek – everything except for what she held in her hands. Somehow, the basket full of strawberries looked as fresh and unharmed as when she had first picked them that morning. Which was good! Because no one would want to buy any bruised strawberries, that was for sure.

Though maybe going out of her way to this solitary farmhouse out in the country may not have been the smartest decision...

Colette would have given up then and there, her basket still feeling quite heavy in her grip, if it weren’t for the dog that walked into her path. A dog with great big ears, a fluffy tail, and an intelligent look in his black eyes.

Just like that, Colette’s strength was instantly regenerated. “D-doggy!” she blurted out, her mind going in circles as it tried to process this new, amazing information. “Wait… are you the doggy from the place I was trying to find…?”

It was almost like something from a fairy tale, the dog, nearly up to her chest in height, tilting his head at her question. He didn’t wait long, already trotting off down the dirt-trodden path ahead, looking back to her with eager whines. Colette’s strength was instantly refueled at the sight, so she followed after the animal quickly, suddenly going over the dips in the road with expert grace, all while dozens of strawberries bounced in her basket.

She then heard the passing of a river, full and brimming instead of a meek string of puddles, its clearness shining underneath the deepening twilight. Right next to the river was the very farmhouse she had been looking for – though it looked more like regular home that was three stories tall, complete with a balcony where ivy clung to its railing. It was a structure crafted from oak, with a stable attached to its side, a sign hanging from above it on creaking hinges.

On its face was the design of something familiar – and she looked to the green-furred dog then who had led her here, seeing his face on that very same sign.

By then she looked further, at the wooden posts that encircled the farm and its land. At the animals that ran across the grass, at the adorable way they barked and yipped, and soon Colette realized that the sounds she had thought she heard in the breeze had not been wishful thinking then.

There are so many dogs! she thought in complete awe, eyes opened wide. Dogs of all shapes and sizes! From short and stout corgis to furry huskies to gentle bloodhounds, and even to mixed breeds with all their wonderful features. Was this… a doggy farm?!

And in the midst of all that, she saw a boy – a red handkerchief tied around his neck, his forehead beaded with sweat from the heat. He wore black suspenders, along with thick work boots and gloves as he held up one tiny, black-furred dog over his head, while others milled around his legs. There was a smile on his face as he held up the animal. “Feeling better today, Noishe junior?”

Her first thought, after her own wonder at the farm and the animals they cared for, was at this boy, and how cute he seemed just then.

The dog who had led her there just then jumped over the fence posts, whining to catch the boy’s attention, along with a dozen of other dogs. Numerous furry heads turned, and Colette nearly melted at the sight of adorable furry snouts and wide black eyes, with both floppy and pointed ears to match. I wonder if I can pet them…

“Oh! Are you the strawberry girl?” Lloyd asked, plopping down the dog back on the ground to join the others. There was a mass of snuffles and yips, but he didn’t react to it. He must be so used to it , Colette thought. He’s so lucky!

“Um, yes! You’ve heard of me?” Colette’s exhaustion caught up with her again, and had just enough energy to place the strawberry basket on top of the fence post.

“Yeah, of course! My dad always says the strawberries from Iselia are really amazing!” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand as he walked up to the fence, carefully moving around shuffling doggies, some following his every step, while others got bored and ran off to chase any wandering butterflies. Colette noted that the first few buttons of his shirt were loose, but even that wasn’t enough to stop the heat apparently. “And that they usually delivered strawberries to places too. But I can’t believe you really came out all this way! You didn’t get lost?”

Colette stood up proudly. “Nope!” she lied right through her teeth, then felt guilty at such a blatant lie. She sighed. “Actually… I did… But I was led here by your dog so I wouldn’t lose my way.” She smiled at the green-furred animal, seeing him go to that stable and curl up in the middle of it. He looked so big, big enough to carry a person!

“Oh, Noishe helped you!” The boy grinned, sunlight turning his hair several shades of bronze. It was the twilight, the way it heightened colors, burnished them in different angles. “He’s always wandering around here, but I never expected him to lead a girl to our farm… Oh, my name’s Lloyd by the way! I didn’t mean to give you my dog’s name over mine…”

Colette giggled, her chest feeling a strange sense of lightness. “That’s okay. I’m Colette! It’s nice to meet you. I can’t believe I never knew about this doggy farm…”

The boy named Lloyd placed his hands on his hips, looking particularly proud. “It’s new! This used to be just a regular place but after finding some strays around the woods, I decided to make this a farm for stray dogs everywhere! I take care of them and people come by to adopt one if they want to!” Noishe, still in his stable, then began to whine a little. “Although I think it makes Noishe kinda jealous now.”

Colette would have stood there and hear all sorts of doggy stories all day if she could. But she figured by the large gathering of dogs that ran around the great yard, some chasing each other (or their tails) while others napped in the waning sunlight, that not many people came by. Maybe if they had a sign for it somewhere…

She couldn’t help her gaze going to them, watching the way one small puppy tried to dig a hole in the ground with such a fervent zeal, as if they would find the treasure they would seek if they just dug even faster! Lloyd followed her eyes to the same dog. “Hey, careful there, Noishe the third! You’ll hurt your little paws!”

Colette blinked at the name, so familiar. “Noishe?” she asked aloud, and Lloyd suddenly looked nervous.

“Er, it’s a working name! I’m… not good at giving names, really. Not to dogs anyway.” He scratched at his cheek, facing her again, the sunlight now streaming against his face in bright strokes. “And every dog is like Noishe, so, it made sense!”

Colette couldn’t help but smile even more at his explanation, his voice so earnest and warm. She turned to look at that particular dog so obsessed with digging. At their curly, fluffy tail, their wheat-colored fur, and a face that always looked like it was smiling, no matter what it did. “Hm, but how about… Pookie? She looks like a Pookie to me.”

Lloyd paused, staring at her. “Huh, that’s not a bad name… Wait, how did you know she was a girl?” He looked back at the dog, who had dug just enough and was now laying on her back to soak up the rest of the sun before it dipped beneath the hills. “I always get confused with that stuff…”

Colette giggled again, still fiddling with the basket handle as she looked around the farm and the various dogs. “That big one over there looks like a Teddy. And the little corgi by the door feels like a Caramel. His tail is so cute! And the dalmation definitely feels like a Kitty!”

“Kitty? On a dog?” Lloyd questioned, but soon she saw the same realization in his eyes as he looked over at the same dog, who was busy gnawing at a stick. “Now that you mention it… that does fit! Heh, you’re like the ultimate dog namer, Colette!”

She instantly flushed at the comment. The sensation was similar to standing out in the sun too long, or walking up hills too high up, which she had done today… but this was different though. She was sure of it. “Thank you…”

Her gaze when downward to the strawberries, bright red still, but their shade darkening with the slow setting of the sun. “Ah, I meant to ask you though, if you wanted, um… uh oh!” She nearly dropped the strawberry basket, but just caught it in time, gripping tightly onto the handle. “Um, these? Fruit?” The word suddenly escaped her!

Lloyd started a bit at her action, hands half going for the basket as she still held it precariously. “Oh, the strawberries? Yeah, I want some! Er, actually can I have most of it?”

“Y-Yeah! Please!” Oh, and now here she was, sounding so desperate too. “I mean, I’d be happy if you could purchase these from me.”

“Hehe, well I’m kinda hungry too, and I’m sure dad would love these too.” And as Lloyd leaned in to look over her product, she could catch the way a lock of his hair fell over his forehead, the way it just begged for a hand to brush it back, to linger near his face and catch the focus of his eyes.

Colette had never felt this flighty before; her chest so close to bursting, her hands fidgeting with the basket over and over. And in the corner of her vision, so many doggies that roamed all over the grass – maybe that was the reason she felt so weak in the knees right now? That must have been it.

Lloyd reached into his pants pocket, where the sound of rustling coins followed. It took her several tries to tell him the price of a dozen strawberries, and then she had to multiply that by a few times to match the very basket… And though it took a few stumbles, they eventually got to final price. Except…

“Ah damn, I’m not sure if I have that much on me right now…” Lloyd looked at his hand where some gald lay, then reached into his other pocket. “Let me keep checking though!”

And then, an idea burst into her head. A silly idea. An awful idea. One that she could imagine her friend Zelos would come up with. Maybe it was his influence that whispered at her ear, making her consider it for longer than she should…

“300 gald…350… um, I think I have some more in my other work suit actually.”

Colette fiddled with the woven threads of the basket handle before timidly placing it back on the ground on her side of the fence posts. It was getting harder to balance it, making her arms ache. Also, she didn’t want to accidentally drop it this time… “Maybe… you can pay for the rest of these with something else?”

Lloyd raised his face to hers, blinking. “Oh? But with what?” He tilted his head the same way the dog named Noishe did, except this was a boy, and the way his hair drifted with the breeze caught her gaze just so.

So she blurted out before her fear took hold completely, her voice squeaking with every syllable. Was it the fading sun giving her courage? Was it the fatigue from traveling, making her tongue loose? “You can pay the rest with a kiss!”

Oh. Oh no that had sounded so awful coming from her.

There was still the sound of the dogs milling about the yard, some going to the stable to curl up with the giant Noishe, some resting on the grass. Colette felt the heat engulf her face, and she could only blame it on herself instead of the sun, which sank so low that only a sliver of its shine remained in the sky.

She could feel Lloyd’s stare, his confusion, and maybe his embarrassment for her. She shouldn’t be impulsive like this. “I’m sorry-”

“Okay,” came his voice, barely audible, and only through the grace of an errant breeze did she even hear him.

Colette raised her head, eyes drawn to the locks of hair that fell over his forehead, to the nervous smile on his lips. “I mean…” he started, laughter spilling all over his words. “I wouldn’t mind it! If, uh…”

This place was far away, off down a beaten path that was hidden underneath leaves and moss. She wasn’t even sure if she would ever see this same boy again, if she could even follow the twists and turns without a friendly dog to guide her. What was the chance that she would find this same place, alone within the fields?

So, she felt daring. Something about meeting Lloyd made her suddenly braver then she’d ever been.

Colette moved closer to the fence post, her boot scuffing against the wood. “Well, if you want to pay me… You should move closer!”

Another little dare, another little leap. And Lloyd met her dare with another smile, hands leaning on the fence post, slouching just a bit to match her height. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Colette whispered. She had only just met Lloyd, but the almost instinctive way she reached for his face, placing her gloved hands against his cheeks, it was natural, comfortable. “That’s perfect.”

And Lloyd didn’t move away, placing his face in her hands with complete trust. She could see the color of his eyes now, russet-brown like a dog’s fur, looking as soft as one too.

She had never kissed anyone before, so when she leaned in, she imagined a number of ways this could go wrong. A bump of their heads together, or missing his mouth by inches. But she felt warmth against her lips, the way Lloyd’s own moved over hers, mingled with the feel of his breath. She smiled into the kiss, and so did he, along with a smattering of giggles that escaped them both. But he continued to rest his face in her hands, trusting her to take her payment for as long as she wished.

Maybe she had taken more than her share, but Lloyd didn’t seem to mind.

The fence creaked just slightly under his weight as he kept kissing her, and even when she leaned back to speak, sometimes she found her mouth covered again, as if Lloyd had missed a spot, like the corner of her lips. She didn’t complain, and only found herself so awed that Lloyd would do his best to give her what she asked for.

The sun had long set before she finally felt the chill breeze against her face.

“So…Can I keep paying this way?” Lloyd murmured against her mouth, eliciting another giggle from her.

“Mm, maybe not all the time…” she said. Her father would wonder why she was giving out free strawberries. “Unless you want to give me extra next time?”

She said it as a joke, winking at him, finally releasing him from her hands. But his own reached up to grasp one of her own gently, the grin on his face so wide and bright. “I think I might want to.”

It was as if they had already known each other for years, with the way she felt so comfortable around him. Even when she made her silly request, it felt like something she had been waiting for all her life.

Or maybe, it was just the sight of all the dogs running around the farm, some sidling near Lloyd’s legs to see what he was doing. She did always feel more content with dogs around.

So Colette left the basket there, with its dozens of strawberries, and just remembered that, Oh. I’ll need to come back for that basket though . That had been her only one! She needed that for her daily deliveries for her family’s business. She’d have to see Lloyd again for sure.

She found herself smiling, her lips still feeling so warm. Maybe he’d be kind and help pay her for her trip, back down the beaten pathways to where a gathering of cute puppies played. It would only be fair.

#tales of symphonia #lloyd irving #colette brunel #fanfiction #colloyd

[city-writes]

Unwaivering

Kirishima can't help but find himself drawn to the blond currently hunched over, asleep at his bedside. He can't explain it, this magnet-like attraction to him, this innate sense of comfort, of familiarity that seems to pool in his stomach, flutter in his chest as he looks over the other man.

The presence of a horned woman with pink hair and skin sitting in the chair less than 3 feet away from his hospital bed also provides a sense of comfort to him, but not to the same strange extent the blond does.

If only he knew who either of them were.

Warnings: Aged-Up Characters; Pro-Hero Characters; Memory Loss; Blink-And-You-Miss-It Manga Spoilers;  Pairing(s): Eijirou Kirishima/Katsuki Bakugo (KiriBaku) Word Count: 12,254 words.

Read it here on AO3! Commission Info!

____________________

The solid, steady rhythm of some kind of beeping is what rouses him.

The sound's not sudden; Its as though he'd been floating in a black, inky void that muffled anything and everything, but the beeping had been patiently insistent. He wasn't sure when he'd registered it, or how long it'd been slowly rising in volume before he could no longer ignore it, but now that he was aware of it, he had to know what it was.

The second that desire for knowledge, that determination is cemented in his re-stabilizing consciousness, he feels heavy. There's a general acknowledgement of 'hurt', pretty much everywhere.

Before he brings himself to open his eyes, he can feel himself laying down, but not flat on his back. He's propped up slightly, in an angle that's an awkward compromise between sitting up and laying down. The plush comfort beneath him, behind him, as well as the warmth that carpets him from about his mid-chest down, is indicative of him being in a bed. Safe. Is he safe? He tries to bring himself to talk, to call out for someone, anyone, that could or would help him. Why wouldn't he be safe? Should he be safe? Was it normal to wonder if you were safe or not while waking up? No words leave him, though, a low, strained sounding groan being the only thing he could manage.

There's the sound of a sharp intake of air(a gasp, maybe?) from somewhere nearby, but he momentarily ignores it, moving what all of his body he can as he slowly re-acquaints himself with the familiarity of his joints, his muscles. That general sensation of 'hurt' now becomes more pronounced, more detailed, more specific in various areas of his body: the expanse of his chest, the length of his arms, though most notably is his head. He slowly tilts his head from left, to right, then back to its natural position, feeling his face contort in discomfort. He takes a deep inhale, and feels the ache in his chest expand as his lungs do. Reflexively, his fingers curl in on themselves and--

There's a warmth in his right hand, a presence of something foreign loosely wrapped around it.

Despite the surprising weight his eyelids seem to bear, he's able to open his eyes, looking down towards his right hand. As the world around him slowly comes into focus, he's able to make out that yes, he is on a bed, and yes, there is definitely something in his hand - specifically, another person's hand. Instinctively, he brushes his thumb along the back of this other hand. Though as his gaze travels along the arm connected to that hand, and the body connected to that arm, he stops, and takes in the sight of a blond man sitting in a chair placed directly next to his bed, hunched over in an uncomfortable looking manner. The blond's torso is resting awkwardly against the bed, and his head is turned in his direction; as though this mystery man fell asleep watching him.

There's a moment's hesitancy, a brief lapse in action as the thought of 'Who is this man?' relays itself in his head. However, before he can make any other move to interact with the blond, a voice cuts through the silence.

"Kiri?"

Tensing, he reluctantly tears his gaze away from the blond at his right side, to the owner of the voice coming from his left. He's greeted with the presence of a young woman with a pair of pale yellow-white horns in her poofy pink hair, the shade of which matched her skin. She was sitting in cushioned chair approximately three feet away from his bed, in a white and pink tye-dye crop top and black leggings. Their gazes lock, and in searching her eyes for some sort of explanation, she opens her mouth again, speaking softer this time.

"... Eijirou? Babe?"

He blinks at the tone of her words, the slight tremor in her voice. It sounded almost like she was... scared, maybe? Kiri... Eiji...rou? Lamely, he draws his gaze away from her, staring more at the floor by her feet. Why did that feel familiar? Kiri... Eijirou...

...Eijirou... Kiri...? There was something more; He could feel it. Kiri... Kiri... Kirishi... Kirishima...?

His eyes widened. Eijirou Kirishima.

Oh. Oh, that's right; That was his name, wasn't it?

It felt like something clicked into place at that, and Kirishima raised his left hand, his gaze going from its current spot on the floor, to his raised hand. He flexed his fingers, exhaling slowly as he did. Looking up, Kirishima finally took in his surroundings, and was made aware of the IV hooked up to his right arm, of the beeping that had woken him up in the first place coming from a machine that was monitoring his pulse, of a second bed in the room several feet behind the blond slumped by his side.

"I..." His throat feels raspy, the timbre of his voice soft and low, "Is this... a hospital?"

The pink woman nods, the move slow and hesitant. Her eyes glance towards his head before looking back into his eyes, and she takes a moment before speaking again. "Yeah, you..." She frowned slightly, her lower lip jutting out in a pout as she seemed to consider her next words carefully. "You've been here since about noon, yesterday." Kirishima glances around the room at that, eventually landing on an analog clock on a wall that read a little less than half past seven. The lack of light shining through the room's windows tipped him off to it more than likely being in the evening. The woman's voice draws him back to look at her. "What all do you remember?"

At that, Kirishima blinks, opening his mouth momentarily before slowly closing it upon realizing he couldn't recall... anything, really. A cold chill washes over him as he tenses, it briefly feeling like someone had frozen his insides. He didn't even remember his own name until just a moment ago... what the hell happened to him? He can only imagine the expression he's giving off, because he watches as the woman's own expression falls, her lips pressing together in a thin line as a small whimper(? whine?) escapes her.

He has the feeling of wanting to comfort her, something in him saying 'you don't like seeing her like this', and starts to stretch his left hand out as though he's trying to reach for her. She meets him halfway, turning the chair to face him directly, grabbing his one hand with both of hers.

"You don't remember anything, do you?" She asks, a sad laugh escaping her as her eyes begin to water. "You big doof, reaching over to try and make me feel better when you're the one in the hospital bed." She pulls one of her hands away to awkwardly dab at her eyelids with the back of her thumb. "You're gonna make me ruin my makeup."

Kirishima manages a weak smile and chuckle, giving the hand still holding his a gentle squeeze. The action reminds him that his right hand is also occupied by the hand of another, and he glances over to the blond again, chewing worriedly at his lower lip upon realizing that the blond was wearing a hospital gown, and that both his arms were wrapped in bandages. This guy was hurt too? Looking back to the woman, Kirishima speaks. "What happened to him?"

Another laugh leaves the woman, though this one sounds more... amused than sad. The sound is followed by a sniffle, and she shakes her head with a small smile on her face. "First you're worried about me, then you ask about what happened to Blasty? I mean, I know you, I get it, but c'mon. Kiri, babe, you're my best friend and I love you to death, but you could be a little selfish for once and ask about yourself, ya know?"

There's a beat of silence between them, Kirishima blinking before frowning confusedly. "Best friends?" He asks, his head cocking to the side slightly. "We're... best friends?"

A flicker of hurt passes through the woman's eyes at that, and there's an immediate feeling of guilt that sinks deep in Kirishima's gut. But the hurt is gone as quickly as it appeared, and she nods. "Yep!" She plasters on a big smile, giving his hand a tight squeeze. "The name's Mina Ashido. We've known each other since middle school, though we didn't really give our friendship the 'best friends' label until about our second year of high school." Her smile simmers down into something more playful, a giggle escaping her. "Honestly, Kami moped for like three minutes after finding out, and tried to save face by saying that Sero was his best friend, but you were quick to scoop him up in a hug and be like, 'Don't worry Denks, you guys are all my best friends!' but I had to add in that I had seniority and rank on him and Sero since I'd known you longer, and--"

A groan cuts Mina off, her and Kirishima looking over to the origin of the noise: the blond at Kirishima's bedside. The blond's expression scruntches uncomfortably, a small snort escaping him as he nuzzles his head against the arm its resting against, and the hand holding Kirishima's twitches.

"Yikes..." Mina whispers, seething slightly. "I should probably be a little quieter."

Kirishima doesn't look back at her yet, carefully looking over the blond and brushing his thumb against the back of his hand. "You said his name was... Blasty?"

Mina's silent for a second, which prompts Kirishima to look back at her. Her expression is sad again, though when she realizes he's looking at her, she's quick to force a smile. "Yes and no," she replies, letting go of Kirishima's hand as she fully sits back in her chair. "Blasty, Lord Explosion Murder, 'Kacchan' technically, if Kaminari's teasing or if you're Midoriya." A weak laugh leaves her as before she says, "I call him Boom Boom Bitch every once in a while, but that's cuz he calls me Bubble Gum Bitch." Her empty smile dies down, and hands are in her lap, her thumbs fiddling with themselves. "... None of that is... ringing any bells?"

There's something in her voice that makes the guilt rush back into Kirishima full force, pooling in his stomach, making his chest ache. His lips curl in on themselves as he forces himself to think, to focus on what he presumes are the blond's nicknames, to try and see if any inkling of his real name emerges for the empty expanse that was currently his lack of memories. But when he comes up with nothing, he looks away and shakes his head, feeling disappointed, like he's betrayed both Mina and the blond by not remembering.

He hears Mina give a soft hum, and a brief silence settles between them. Kirishima isn't sure how long it lasts; it could just be seconds, but it feels like an eternity. He feels frustrated, so frustrated, about this guilt, this disappointment, this upset that threatens to consume him, all because he can't remember this man's name - a man who's currently hunched over at his bedside, passed out, visibly injured, holding onto his hand like a lifeline. Even without his memories, Kirishima could tell this man was important to him in some way. Kirishima's jaw tenses, he closes his eyes and tries his damnedest to recall something, anything, subconsciously holding the blond's hand a little tighter and--

"Eijirou?"

At the sound of Mina's voice, Kirishima opens his eyes, and is caught off-guard by the sudden blur of his vision, by how hot his eyes were. His face feels wet. Shakily, Kirishima's left hand rises to feel his own face, a shuddering breath escaping him as he does so.

...Ah. He's crying.

He sniffles, rubbing at his eyes and cheeks with the back of his left hand, intent on wiping away his tears, on staunching them from flowing any further. Kirishima's too caught up in himself, in his effort to hide his tears (Don't be weak; Put on a strong front, a voice in the back of his head tells him. It's not unmanly to cry though; It's ok to be vulnerable, says an opposing voice. He's not sure which to listen to in this moment.) that he doesn't notice Mina getting up from her seat, the young woman moving to wrap her arms around him in a hug.

Its almost second-nature, the way Kirishima's left arm moves to hook around her back, his fingers grabbing at one of her shoulders as he turns to bury his head against her other shoulder. He can hear her attempting to stifle her own crying, can feel her trembling in his hold, and something nags at him in the back of his head. He's hugged her like this before, they've been in a familiar situation before. Both crying, both upset. Mortified. Abhorred. A feeling of loss. Loss at ...night? ...Midnight? Did something happen to them... late at night? He can't quite place it, can't quite explain it, and opts not to try and vocalize it, not wanting to make the woman - make Mina - cry more.

Mina leans her head against Kirishima's, and when he can feel her crying ease, she speaks.

"... Bakugo. His name is Katsuki Bakugo."

Something lights up within Kirishima at that, an eruption of warmth, of comfort, of emotion he's not sure he knows how to name upon hearing the name. It feels strong, it feels right, it feels like home. The name alone somehow manages to soothe the hurt, the ache he's feeling, and gives him the support he needs to find the strength to ease into a more collected state. His fingers curl into the fabric of her crop top, and he exhales deeply, his thumb brushing against the blond's-- against Bakugo's hand. He turns his head to look at their hands again, his cheek resting on Mina's shoulder.

The sight of their hands conjoined, along with the knowledge of Bakugo's name... Something else seems to click into place, and he's filled with a flurry of emotions. Worry. Apprehension. Fear. But at the same time, there's drive. There's insistence. There's the desire to protect. To help. To save. A rush of adrenaline. A time limit. One chance. An unknown voice: "It has to be you." His own voice, desperate: "Come on!" Katsuki's hand in his. Warmth. Overwhelming relief. Safe. He's safe. He's safe.

So why was he hurt now?

Fingers curl just a little tighter around Bakugo's hand, before Kirishima speaks. "What happened to him?" He asks for the second time now, his voice shaky. "What happened to me?"

Mina begins to pull away, and honestly Kirishima's hesitant to let her go, but says nothing, releasing his hold on her. She moves back only to pull her chair closer to his bed, and takes a seat. She reaches for his left hand, and he's quick to give it to her, giving her hand a supportive squeeze as she prepares to speak.

"Alot of this is probably going to sound foreign to you, so I'll try to make it as... easy to understand as I can." Mina says. Kirishima sees her jut her lower lip out in a small pout as she thinks, presumably to try and filter out anything that might confuse him. He gives her all the time she needs. "You and Bakugo, along with some other people, were on duty, working on some big case." Her thumb brushes against his hand. "I couldn't tell you much about it, because the agency I'm working at wasn't involved. But the agency you work at, and the agency Bakugo works at, were two that were involved."

"You were excited. You and Bakugo hadn't really teamed up on anything together since our last year at U.A-- the high school we all went to together." Mina smiled at that, the sight fond and gentle. "Not that you didn't like working together, it's just that the agencies you worked at had never teamed up before then."

"Agencies... Like, detectives?" Kirishima asked, regretting speaking up upon seeing Mina's soft expression falter.

She was silent for a moment, before working up that smile again and shaking her head. "No, Kiri. Um... Like heroes."

He blinks. Heroes? Him, a hero? He... he couldn't have been a hero, right? Heroes... Heroes had really cool and flashy quirks, and his own was...

What was his quirk again?

Kirishima frowns slightly, slowly pulling his gaze away from Mina as he tries to focus, tries to will some fragment of a memory to him that would tell him what his quirk was, but to no avail. Its frustrating, so frustrating, but he manages to exhale slowly through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again and looking to Mina. He does his best to keep his expression neutral, he doesn't want his anxiety and frustration to upset her. His gaze meets hers, and he nods affirmingly, a silent go ahead to continue.

Mina squeezes his hand comfortingly before continuing. "Like I said, I don't know the full details. But apparently you guys got a break in the case you were all working on, and had to do like, a covert sorta thing? You, Bakugo, and several other heroes infiltrated a building the villains were going to use to take civilian hostages, by dressing up as civilians yourselves and quietly telling the actual civilians to discreetly get out, which woulda left only heros dressed as civilians, and the villains. But something happened, I don't know what, and fighting broke out in the building. You and Bakugo went after one villain together, and apparently the room you guys ended up in had some kids hiding in there. You moved to protect them, but for whatever reason, you didn't activate your quirk in time, and were hurt pretty bad." Mina's visibly forcing herself to not cry at this point, doing all she can to presumably keep a positive face, but its failing and it tugs at Kirishima's heart.

"I don't know exactly how bad you were hurt, how... extensive your injuries were," Mina's hand is trembling in his now, her free hand dabbing at her eyes again, "but I overheard Bakugo talking with one of the doctors when I got here yesterday. Your skull had a really bad fracture, and there was something about your brain, bleeding or swelling or something, and--" She's half-sobbing at this point, clearly fighting to keep coherent. "They'd done what they could to stablize you on site after Bakugo had rushed you to the paramedics, and performed surgery when you got here and you were in there for so long and Bakugo was a mess and I was too but I'd never seen him like that, and oh god, you had us so scared Kiribabe, and-- and--!" Mina finally devolves into body-wracking sobs, the smile gone from her face as she attempts to stifle the noises leaving her. Kirishima's heart plummets into his stomach, and he holds her hand tight, the action being all he can do at this point but its not enough, she's crying, Eijirou, help her, do something, say something, anything. Help her like you helped those kids--

There's a slight pain in his head suddenly that causes Kirishima to wince, pulling his hand away from Mina's into hold his head, palm meeting an apparently bandage-covered temple. There's a chain of coughs. Small. Weak. Pitiful sounding. A whimper immediately follows, trailed by the soft 'shh!' of a child. Child? Children. There's kids in here. He turns his head, takes his eyes off the villain for a moment as an explosion sounds behind him, the sound of a struggle. His eyes quickly scan the area. There's a small leg sticking out near some rubble, black pants, a little red shoe. How did he miss it? How could he have missed it? His gaze trails up the leg, and he spots them: two kids, partially obscured by the debris of the building, one cradling the other - the smaller - in their lap, both children covered in soot and ash.

"Kiri?"

Mina's voice is faint, almost like it's floating away. She sounds scared. A sound escapes him, a grunt? A whine? It sounds far away too, but he doesn't focus on it; he can't focus on it. Not yet. Another explosion sounds behind him, followed by a crash. He hears someone - Katsuki? - cry out in pain. He turns his head. Katsuki's been thrown back first into some of the debris, crumpled awkwardly. Worry. Fear. Panic. Is he alright? It's Katsuki, of course he's alright, right? Get up. Please. Get up. The villain turns from Katsuki to look back at him. Their gaze drops towards the kids. There's a malicious look on their face, and no no nO-- He's moving fast. Is he faster than them? Should he activate his quirk now? No. He's slower when he's hardened; get to the kids first, then harden. Don't risk it. Civilians first. He's running. Adrenaline. Terror. Oh god please make it. He's sliding onto his knees, his body is hunched over awkwardly. Block the children from the villain. Leave enough room between you and the children so they don't get hurt by your quirk. Your quirk. Harden. Unbreakable. Harden!

"Kirishima?!"

His fingers are digging into his hair. He shakes head. Not yet. He can feel the ripple of hardening begin to sprout from the center of his back. Everything's in slow motion. He looks down. One of the kids is hurt, there's blood on their arm as the other kid cradles them. The bigger kid, the one holding the other, looks up at him. There's terror in those eyes. What to do, what to do, what to do? Be unbreakable. Unwaivering. His Hardening's made its way towards the front of his torso, his lower back, his shoulders, the base of his neck. He manages a smile at the older kid. It'll be ok, he wants to say. The words never form. Something makes contact with his back, but it's large, larger than he is. It slams into the entire expanse of his body, regardless of his Hardening's caught up with the rest of him or not. There's a pain in both his arms, at the back of his head, a sickly sounding crack deafened in his eardrums. Pain. Pain pain pain pain pain paIN-- The world is... on its side now? Why are the children sideways? The bigger one is speaking, crying. He can't hear their voice. Its muffled and muddy sounding, as is the villain's voice behind him, sounding rhythmic - perhaps laughter? His vision's starting to blur. Fight, fight, fight! Stay awake, protect the kids, stay aliv--

"Eijirou!"

Mina sounds terrified now, but Kirishima's hands both tighten their grip, there's something hot and wet on his face. He wants to say something, but he can't, not yet, Mina. The sound of an explosion booms behind him, but that too is muffled. The bigger kid lunges forward slightly, being careful with the smaller, using Kirishima's slumped body as a barrier between them and the pressure-filled impact of the explosion. Good. They need to stay safe. Several rounds of explosions burst one after another after another. The world's getting darker now. His body is tense, but he feels himself ebbing away. His surroundings start to fade, but he keeps his gaze on the children. They're trembling in front of him, clasping onto each other fearfully. He wants to move, wants to hold them and soothe their fear, but he can't bring himself to move his arms. Can't bring himself to shift closer somehow. Can't find it in him to even speak. The bigger kid's eyes fly open, and they move, looking past his body at something, before shimmying themself and the smaller child back some. The bigger kid starts crying, and Kirishima's gut sinks when he realizes he can no longer hear the muffled sounds of, or feel the residual force or heat of any explosions. The villain must be coming. Harden. Force it. Protect the kids! But nothing happens. The kids don't attempt to make a run for it. They look worriedly at him, before looking up again. There's a pair of warm hands moving him now, and-- PAIN. His eyes clamp shut as he fails to fight back the garbled noise that leaves him from being moved. He can't hear himself fully, he sounds so far away. There's something hot and wet falling onto him. He opens his eyes, but he doesn't see much. His vision's mostly gone, and all he can make out is a face. An angled face, expression contorted in worry and fear. There's blond hair matted to their forehead by sweat and ash, wide, wet red eyes looking frantically at him and-- oh. It's Katsuki. Katsuki's lips are moving; Katsuki's saying something. The urge to close his eyes is growing too strong to ignore though, the relief flooding his body from it being Katsuki and not the villain making his body feel heavy. He's tired, so very tired. He wants to say something though, to ease that look on Katsuki's face. He feels his mouth open to say something, but he can no longer hear what leaves his lips. He coughs, the action wet and gross, leaving the tangy taste of copper in his mouth. He feels Katsuki tense. Kirishima's sight is so far gone, no matter how hard he tries to force himself to see. He's barely able to make out the sight of Katsuki's lips move one more time. Faintly, he can hear what Katsuki's screaming. 'Eijirou'.

"Eijirou!"

Kirishima's eyes snap open at the familiar gruff voice, his head turning to look at those same red eyes he'd seen in his head just moments ago, a spark of something jolting through his chest as their gazes meet.

Bakugo's awake.

He's sitting up, his expression stern and steely, brows narrowed as he scowls (its a facade, he's terrified right now, one of the voices in the back of his head says, and this time, the other voice doesn't oppose.) and squeezes the hand holding Kirishima's. Its only then that Kirishima realizes he's got both his hands in a death grip, the hand in his hair, and the hand holding Bakugo's. Immediately, he lets go of both, the hand at his hair reaching down to cover his own mouth in abhorrent shock, the other trying to pull away from Bakugo's grip. But Bakugo doesn't let him.

"I'm sorry." Kirishima's voice sounds so small, small enough that for a moment, he doesn't even realize it's his voice, that he's the one who's speaking. He slowly becomes re-aware of his surroundings, the tunnel vision he'd had while recalling what he can only presume were his last moments before waking up here slowly dissipating. Mina's hands are on him, one at his shoulder, one at his mid-back. He's sitting fully upright now, uncurling from the ball-like position he'd been falling into while remembering. Mina looks terrified, she's standing at his bedside, the chair she'd been sitting on pushed away behind her. Kirishima looks from her, to Bakugo, from her, to Bakugo again, before biting his lower lip and lowering his head, eyes welling with tears. "I'm sorry." He repeats. He wants to comfort them, wants to give them what they want, the Eijirou Kirishima they knew, they Eijirou Kirishima they remembered. The Eijirou Kirishima he currently wasn't. "I'm so, so sorry."

He barely registers Bakugo's voice, demanding Mina ('Raccoon Eyes', he calls her) go get one of the doctors, barely registers the loss of warmth and comfort from her hands on him, barely registers the sound of his hospital room door closing. He's alone with Bakugo now, and there's so much he wants to ask, so much he wants to say but he doesn't know how to word any of it, and all that comes out through his crying is another weak, small, "I'm sorry."

Bakugo's free hand joins its twin in holding Kirishima's hand, the blond holding onto it like it's a lifeline. Kirishima feels Bakugo's hands trembling, watches as Bakugo lowers his own head, bringing their conjoined hands towards him. The second the back of Kirishima's right hands is pressed against Bakugo's lowered forehead, he sees the blond's shoulders tremble ever-so-slightly.

"Fucking hell..." Bakugo's voice is soft, slightly gravelly, his dual grip on Kirishima's right hand tightening. "Fucking hell, Eijirou."

There's something in his voice that tells Kirishima that other people would see this as Bakugo chiding Kirishima, being upset at him. Something tells him those other people would be wrong. That this isn't Bakugo being displeased with him.

Something tells him this is Bakugo relieved.

__________________________

An older doctor was quick to come in, Mina trailing behind her before being told to wait outside a short while later. When Kirishima questioned the doctor about making Mina leave, she gently informed him that she only wanted family in the room for just a moment, for patient confidentiality reasons. He didn't argue with her - she was the doctor, after all - but at her words, his eyes flickered over to Bakugo, who was still holding his hand, though the blond had shifted back into an upright position when the doctor and Mina had initially come in, only holding Kirishima's hand with just one of his own now, as opposed to both. If Mina was made to stay outside, shouldn't Bakugo have been made to do the same? Didn't Mina say Bakugo was his friend earlier?

...Now that he thought of it, Mina didn't really say what Bakugo was to him, did she? He recalled she didn't mention him during the 'best friend' conversation they had, but did mention some other people named Sero and Kaminari. Maybe Bakugo was a cousin of his?

The doctor - Dr. Higurashi, she'd introduced herself as - began slowly asking him some questions about his current state, doing various little physical tests on him as she did so: Was he currently in pain? If so, where? On a scale of one to ten, how would he rate his pain? Would he please try follow the light she was going to shine in his eyes? (His eyes are the color red, he learns, adding to his assumptions that Bakugo was probably related to him.) Would he please breathe in and out slowly as she checked his vitals? Could he wiggle his fingers? His toes?

After that was basic math questions, basic problem solving questions, all ranging from simple enough to do in a moment, to complex enough to make him wish he had a pen and paper to write his work out on. It wasn't until she began asking specific questions that Kirishima's anxiety began to creep back in.

"Can you tell me your name?" Dr. Higurashi asked as she stood at the foot of Kirishima's hospital bed, her voice as gentle as her expression.

Kirishima nodded, his hands settling in his lap. The doctor had asked Bakugo to give her and Kirishima a little room, so he was currently sitting upright in his chair, having scooted it back a little bit. Kirishima would have been lying if he said he didn't miss the comfort of Bakugo's hand in his. "My name is Eijirou Kirishima."

Dr. Higurashi smiled, nodding affirmatively. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kirishima." She gave a quick flick of her wrist against the clipboard she had been previously writing down his physical test results on, presumably checking something off. "Are there any other names or monikers, nickname or otherwise, that you can tell me about?"

Kirishima blinks at that, finding the question odd. "Ah, Mina called me Kiri, if that counts?" He purposefully leaves out the 'babe' and 'Kiribabe' she called him by, not out of embarrassment, but out of the assumption that those might be too personal to count.

From the corner of his peripheral, Kirishima can see Bakugo frown in a way that comes off to him as strange, but he doesn't speak up about it, instead watching as Dr. Higurashi nods and marks something down. "I see. What about your current age?"

Kirishima opened his mouth to speak, but faltered when he realized he couldn't remember how old he was. He swallowed harshly, biting down on his lower lip as he tried to think. Mina had mentioned something about him, her, and Bakugo all going to high school together, that Bakugo and him hadn't teamed up on anything since their last year there. He'd graduated, obviously, since he was apparently a pro hero. So how old was he?

"I'm..." He exhaled slowly, a shuddering breath that didn't relax him like he'd wanted it to. "I'm older than 18."

Dr. Higurashi gives a brief hum then, and when Kirishima says nothing further, she nods and scribbles something on her clipboard. "Ok. Can you tell me when your birthday is?"

He doesn't even know what today's date is. He doesn't even make the attempt this time in trying to force himself to remember, simply shaking his head. "... No, ma'am."

"Do you know if you have a quirk?" She sounds so kind, so patient. Kirishima's thankful that his assigned doctor isn't someone who'd be getting irritated with him or something for not remembering.

He nods at her words though, before closing his eyes, re-seeing the moments before he passed out in his mind's eye. "I do, it's like... defensive. My body becomes..." There's a word he wants to use, a word that played in his mind earlier, a word that felt synonymous with his quirk, felt right. "...Unbreakable."

"I see." Dr. Higurashi repeats, her nose scrunching slightly as she jots something down, before she asks him more questions. His address, his home town, the last meal he ate, the current season, what the day's date is, his previous schools, his current occupation. The last two are the only ones he's able to provide some semblance of an answer to: He went to U.A. for high school and was currently a pro hero. He doesn't hide that he only knows this because of his conversation with Mina, though. In response, Dr. Higurashi asks him what other schools he went to, and what agency he was associated with as a pro hero. He's unable to answer those.

Kirishima can see the doctor's calculating gaze as she jots down little notes that seem to vary in length, some being as quick as a flick of her wrist, to taking several seconds. Her tone has remained calm and friendly, however, something Kirishima's still thankful for. Her patience and understanding has been the only thing keeping him from completely losing it.

Of course it doesn't last long.

"Can you tell me your parents' names?"

He blinks at that. His... parents? His gaze becomes unseeing, his body seems to just stop as he completely draws a blank. If it wasn't for the beeping of the machine monitoring his heartrate, he'd have believed he'd flatlined in that moment, in realizing that not only has he haven't given a single thought to 'oh god, my parents, my family must be worried about me' in the entire time he's been awake, but that he also can't recall any family. Does he even have his parents in his life? Was he raised by a single parent? Were his parents or parent worried about him? Why weren't they here? Why--

Sound is muffled in his ears, almost like he's underwater, and it takes him a moment to focus again, on the dual sounds of Dr. Higurashi and Bakugo speaking to him. He blinks once, twice, before realizing he's trembling, breathing raggedly, curled in on himself again. Dr. Higurashi's hand is on one of his shoulders, her eyes locked onto him as she's trying to grab his attention. His gaze aligns with hers, and she nods, then begins counting, then breathing, counting, then breathing. Bakugo's stopped talking at this point, but Kirishima can feel the other male's hands on him, one on his back, the other on the opposite shoulder of Dr. Higurashi's hand. Kirishima finds himself leaning into Bakugo's touch, and shakily starts breathing in time with the doctor. They all stay like that for several moments, until Kirishima's breathing has evened out.

"Let's stop here," Dr. Higurashi murmurs soothingly, brushing her thumb against Kirishima's shoulder before pulling her hand away. "I'll give you some time to relax, and we can continue this tomorrow morning."

Bakugo's hand is currently rubbing small circles at Kirishima's back, and Kirishima's more than appreciative for the comfort. But he forces out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back up at Dr. Higurashi. "Wait," Kirishima pipes up, looking pleadingly at her. "Give me one more, please."

"Mr. Kirishima, I--"

"Please." Kirishima repeats. He chews on his lower lip as he sees the doctor contemplate granting him his plea. "We can stop after this last one, I just..." He exhales through his nose, looking down at his hands, which have sat settled in his lap. "...I just want to actually remember something on my own, not something I've been told by someone else."

Dr. Higurashi gave a small hum as she seemed to weigh her options, before closing her eyes and exhaling. "One final question for the night, Mr. Kirishima. Then we'll see how you're feeling tomorrow, alright?"

Kirishima gave a small smile, nodding in agreeance. "Yes, ma'am!"

There was a moment's pause in between them, Bakugo taking the time to pull away from Kirishima then and step back a couple paces, before Dr. Higurashi spoke again. "Can you tell me your current marital status?"

A pout forms on Kirishima's lips at the question, his brows furrowing in thought as he tries to force himself to remember once more. "I..." A frustrated groan escapes him as he curls his hands into fists, the action drawing his eye to his left hand. He relaxed his hands then, lifting his left up some. "I don't... think I'm married." He hated how unsure he sounded. "Its dumb, but I feel like if I was, even with my quirk and being a pro hero, I'd have a ring or something on me somewhere?" He opened and closed his hand twice for good measure, his pout morphing into a sad smile. "So yeah, I don't think I'm married." His mind wanders back to the memory of those kids, hurt and crying while he was slumped on the ground next to them, battered and broken. "Honestly? I'm probably single. I'm a pro hero, and I couldn't even reassure those kids that they'd be ok." A dry, humorless laugh left his lips. "Who'd want to be with someone... someone weak like me?"

He heard the garbled, strangled sounding noise coming from Bakugo in the corner of the room, looking over as the blond began to walk out of the room, an unreadable look on his face. A pang of disappointment tinged Kirishima's heart as he heard his room's door open, the faint sound of Mina's surprised-sounding voice questioning, "Blasty?" before the door closed. His chest felt tight, and he felt... guilty, almost.

But why 'guilty'?

Dr. Higurashi looked concerned as she glanced towards the door, her mouth opening for a brief moment before closing again, her gaze returning to Kirishima. "...Could you clarify that for me, Mr. Kirishima?"

It takes Kirishima a moment to respond, his gaze still trained on the door, as though he was trying to will Bakugo walking back in. But nonetheless, Kirishima looks to Dr. Higurashi, and asks, "Clarify what?"

"What kids do you say you failed to reassure?" She asks in response, trailing around from the foot of Kirishima's hospital bed to the side Mina had previously been on, taking the seat she had been in.

Kirishima blinked, before gasping slightly. "Oh! I recalled it earlier, before Mina got you. I think I remembered how I got here?"

And so Kirishima explained from as early as he could remember, from the sounds of the children coughing and whimpering in that room, to Bakugo calling out for him as he slipped into darkness. When questioned what triggered the memory, he further explained that Mina had been crying about how worried she and Bakugo were about him, about how scared she was, that his mind was racing because he wanted to comfort her, help her, and that she'd mentioned him helping some kids earlier in their conversation, that his mind kind of... compared the situations, to help her like he'd supposedly helped some kids, and that the memory just kind of clicked then.

"I don't remember what the villain looked like, what their quirk was." Kirishima supplies, continuing the rather long ramble that Dr. Higurashi has allowed him to go on. "And I can't describe what those kids fully looked like? I just remember the red shoe that caught my eye, their injuries, their tears..." He exhales to steady himself, decently surprised that he was able to prevent himself from tearing up at recalling it all. "And Bakugo... Mina said our agencies had us working together, that we'd work together at U.A., and I think we worked together well? But my attention was caught by those kids, and then I look back and he's knocked into some of the debris, and when I wake up here, he's in a hospital gown and bandages too? I..." Kirishima's unable to prevent his voice from cracking, the mental image of Bakugo's worried and fearful expression playing in his mind. "I think I made him cry...?" He uses the back of one of his hands to gently rub at one of his eyes, his gaze looking to the second hospital bed in the room that he'd noticed earlier, behind where Bakugo had previously been slumped next to him.

"What you've recalled does align with what Dynamight reported to both medical personnel and authorities," Came Dr. Higurashi's gentle voice, causing Kirishima to look back in her direction, watching as she flipped through a couple of pages on her clipboard, "as well as statements from both the children. Additionally, the arm wound you mentioned seeing on one of the children--"

"So those kids got out safe?" Kirishima interrupted, his eyes wide. There's also the lingering question of who 'Dynamight' was, but the mention of Dr. Higurashi having talked to those kids, having seen those kids, took forefront on his current priority list. "They made it to the hospital?"

The doctor nodded at that, relief flooding through Kirishima's system. "Yes, they did. That arm wound honestly looked worse than it actually was, and we were able to patch them up right away, as well as treating both children with oxygen to ensure their lungs were clear of the smoke and soot in the air." She placed a kind hand on Kirishima's shoulder then. "Please take comfort in the fact that you did good, Mr. Kirishima. You were a hero to those children, and were able to keep them safe."

A shaky breath left Kirishima at that, wiping his face down with one hand as he nodded. "I will. Thank you."

Dr. Higurashi pulled her hand away at that, her smile becoming slightly more stern as she looked back at her clipboard. "From this initial, simple, un-intrusive examination, it would appear you have post-traumatic amnesia, but due to the nature of your hero work, the stress your mind and body can both be constantly put under, as well as your known past traumas, I would be remiss if I didn't also consider dissociative amnesia as well. Post-traumatic amnesia is explanatory in and of itself, and is most common after significant head injury, like what you suffered through while fighting that villain. That being said, dissociative amnesia is linked to both traumatic and intensely stressful events. Be it being in combat from war or hero work, built up traumas, or abuse of any kind: mental, emotional, physical, sexual. Additionally, 'stress' doesn't inherently refer to physical stress. It could apply to stress in personal relationships, in your home life, financial stress, or even stress about your job. Being a hero isn't just public appearances and fights with villains, after all. You also have the internal workings of the Hero Association, be it paperwork, mentoring young work studies, or anything else few and far in between."

Placing her clipboard on her lap, Dr. Higurashi looked towards Kirishima once more. "Simply put, your memory loss could simply be the result of the blunt force trauma you received, or it could be the result of stress and traumas that have built up over time, and the blow to your head was simply the straw that broke the camel's back. However, the fact that you were able to recall all that information is promising regardless of the prognosis. And while I don't like that you recalled such information during a moment of emotional duress for your friend, its a hopeful sign that this likely isn't a permanent affliction for you." With an exhale, Dr. Higurashi stood from the chair, beginning to walk back towards the foot of Kirishima's hospital bed. "Tomorrow, we'll run a few more in-depth tests on you, and I'll go over your injuries in more detail with you then, so as not to overwhelm your right now. For now, I'll leave you to Mr. Bakugo and Ms. Ashido's company. Visiting hours are almost over for the night, so I wouldn't want to rob you of your time with Ms. Ashido." Leaning down slightly, she left the clipboard inside a small box at the foot of Kirishima's bed, before nodding. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me or ask of me before I send them in?"

Kirishima blinked as he processed her words, frowning slightly before nodding at her. "I... I think I remembered something else, something earlier, when Mina was talking with me. But... I don't think it relates to how I got here?"

The doctor's head tilted slightly at that. "Oh?"

"I remembered..." Kirishima's hands curled into gentle fists, a hum escaping him before he continued. "I remembered feeling worried? Anxious? But desperate. I can't fully remember where I was or when it was, but I could hear someone's voice. Then my own, yelling. Then the next thing I know, Bakugo's hand is in mine, and it's... relieving." His fists tighten then, wishing Bakugo was in the room to help fill in the missing gaps.

"Can you recall what all was said?"

He nods. "The voice I can't place simply said: 'It has to be you.' And then I hear myself yelling out: 'Come on.'"

There's no look of recognition on Dr. Higurashi's face, from what Kirishima can tell, simply intrigue as she pulls the clipboard up once more, beginning to write in it again. "Tell me, was there emotional duress that proceeded this flash of a memory too?"

"Kinda?" Kirishima sighs, one of his fists relaxing so that he could rub the back of his neck with that hand. "Bakugo was asleep, and Mina had been talking loud enough to kinda stir him? So she quieted down, and I'd asked what his name was, cuz she'd just called him 'Blasty' before. She seemed sad that I couldn't remember his name, couldn't remember him, so she listed off some nicknames he goes by, and when I couldn't remember, I guess I started crying out of frustration. She hugged me, and then told me his name, and then when I turned to look at him, I saw his hand holding mine and it... came to me."

Dr. Higurashi says nothing, simply nodding as she continues scribbling down notes on the clipboard. It makes Kirishima feel a little uneasy, honestly, but when she puts the clipboard back down, there's a fond smile on her face. "Thank you for sharing this information with me. It seems as though it wasn't emotional duress that helped you recall that, but rather the knowledge of his name and the sight of your hands conjoined. Unfortunately, I can't tell you what significance this fragment of memory holds for you, as it's presumably from a different case than the one that landed you in the hospital in the first place, or something that's happened in your personal, private life. While I would advise you taking it easy for tonight, and not trying to force yourself to remember too much at once for fear of the mental, emotional, and psychological repercussions it might have, perhaps maybe sharing that information with Mr. Bakugo himself might provide a little clarity for you."

Kirishima opens his mouth to reply, but closes it quickly upon realizing he doesn't exactly know what to say. Instead, he simply nods. "Yes ma'am. Thank you."

The doctor nods in response and turns to head out of the room, leaving Kirishima alone for the first time since waking up.

_____________________

The sound of his room's door opening causes Kirishima to open his eyes in response. He blinks the world back into focus, unsure of exactly at what point he'd drifted off, but the clock that had read half past seven when he'd woken up now reads a quarter past nine. A groan leaves him as he uses a hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes, pausing only when he sees Bakugo staring back at him, frozen mid-step, akin to a child that had been caught stealing out of the cookie jar.

A weird bundle of nerves begins to gather inside of Kirishima as he eyes lock onto Bakugo's, and he slowly lowers his hand from his face, looking directly at the blond. "...Hey."

Bakugo exhales, looking away from Kirishima's gaze then. "...Hey."

An awkward silence settles between them, before Bakugo relaxes somewhat, folding his arms, and glancing back to Kirishima, looking over him once. "...Sorry 'bout wakin' you up."

Kirishima blinks at that, before holding his hands up. "It's all good, man, no harm done." He watches as Bakugo's gaze shifts again, the blond looking over towards the other bed in the room, before looking towards the chair he'd previously been sitting in instead. A scoff leaves Bakugo before he moves to the seat, sitting by Kirishima's bedside once again. His arms are folded against his chest, and he props his feet up on the edge of Kirishima's bed, lowering his head somewhat, chin resting against his chest as his eyes close. Again, there's an awkward silence, causing Kirishima to chew on his lower lip slightly. "...You're not gonna fall asleep there, are you? That might not be good for your wounds, dude."

Bakugo opens an eye then. "...You want me to fuck off to bed?"

Tensing slightly at his words, Kirishima blanches a bit, and swallows. "I didn't say that!" His hands fly back up in surrender, trying to show he meant no ill will. "If you wanna sit here and like, talk or something, that's totally cool, dude! I just don't want you to fall asleep in a weird position and wake up in pain or something! That'd be really unmanly of me to just let you... do..." Kirishima falters then, blinking as he lowers his hands, a frown taking place on his lips as he looks down at them. Why had he defaulted to the word 'unmanly'? He could have said anything; 'Inconsiderate', 'Rude', 'Asshole-ish' even. So why 'Unmanly'?

And why did it come so naturally?

Upon realizing Bakugo hasn't said anything in this mini-freak out moment, Kirishima looks up from his hands over to the blond, whose red eyes are wide. There's a look akin to hope on Bakugo's face before he seems to register Kirishima is looking at him, and that look is quickly replaced by a strange type of hesitancy, an unease as Bakugo seems to think about what he wants to say next. However, nothing seems to come out.

Kirishima looks over Bakugo once, before looking at the clock. "...I guess visiting hours are over?" He asks, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "Dr. Higurashi said they'd be over soon." It'd explain why Mina hadn't come back yet, despite the doctor's attempt to give her more time before visiting hours ended.

"Would you rather Raccoon Eyes be here, instead?" Bakugo asks, causing Kirishima to look back at him. While the blond's words seemed harsh, there was something in his voice that sounded unsure, almost hesitant.

For a brief moment, he mentally compared navigating talking to Bakugo like navigating a minefield, an explosion waiting to go off. But while the strange association of 'explosion' and 'Bakugo' seemed to slot together smoothly in his head, he felt guilty about the comparison. Navigating a minefield was a task seen as treacherous, absolutely unpleasant in every way, shape, and form. That didn't feel like it fit with Bakugo at all. Maybe... a mouse in a maze instead? Mazes were a thought-inducing task, but there were no negative connotations to them, right? Minefields were about life or death; Mazes were about reaching a goal. Currently, Kirishima himself was the mouse, traversing conversation with Bakugo was the maze... so was feeling more at ease the cheese at the end of goal? Feeling more secure? There was something more there, something just out of grasp that he couldn't place.

"I mean, Mina was nice," He answers after taking a moment to remember that Bakugo had called Mina 'Raccoon Eyes' earlier, "and she's apparently my best friend? Or one of my best friends, but she claims seniority? But I don't think I'd rather her be here than you." Though to be honest with himself, Kirishima didn't like that Bakugo was hurt and in the hospital like he was. At the same time, he didn't really want to be alone either. "Why do you call her that anyway?"

Bakugo grunted, shifting in his seat slightly, crossing one leg over the other. "... Doc said you remembered the fight." It wasn't a question, Kirishima noted, but there was something about the way Bakugo said it that seemed almost like... like he was testing the waters?

"Kinda, yeah." Kirishima nodded, looking back down. "I don't remember everything; It picks up for me noticing those kids for the first time, hearing them and turning to look at them."

"...What's the last thing you remember?"

There's something in Bakugo's voice that Kirishima can't quite place, can't quite name. He would put thought into trying to decipher it, but he can't help the sudden tightness in his chest, the sudden influx of emotions he feels as he recalls the blond's frantic, tear-stained face in his mind's eye. The feeling of warm hands holding him, forcing Kirishima to look up at him. The immediate shift from fear and desperation at thinking the villain was coming for the kids, to unmitigated relief upon realizing it was Katsuki, Katsuki, not the villain.

Kirishima opens his mouth, intending to say something along the lines of 'Honestly? You, Bakugo.' but pauses when he replays those last moments in his head again. His brows furrow as he remembers the tumultuous typhoon of emotions as he thought the villain was approaching him and the children, how he initially wanted to fight against those hands on him, the way he was able to relax when he saw it was... Katsuki. How Katsuki's lips moved, how Katsuki's words were falling on deaf ears. How relieved he was it was Katsuki, not the villain. How he wanted to say or do something to ease the frantic look on Katsuki's face. How after he'd coughed up blood Katsuki tensed. His vision darkening as all he sees is Katsuki's lips moving. The world going silent after hearing Katsuki scream "Eijirou!".

His mind replays that fragment of a memory, again hears the stranger's voice say: "It has to be you." Again hears himself scream, desperate: "Come on!" He looks at Bakugo then, and there must be some kinda look on his face, because Bakugo is sitting up now, his feet pulled off the edge of Kirishima's bed, his head upright as he looks at Kirishima, his face trying to remain stoic, but there's a belying concern in his gaze.

"Eijirou?"

That sudden tightness in Kirishima's chest constricts further at Bakugo's voice, and he can't tear his gaze away from the blond. His hands are trembling. Why is it always 'Katsuki' in these memories, not 'Bakugo'? There's something there. Kirishima can't place it. Its right there, but its not. Whatever it is, it's wanting to burst out - but he doesn't know how to let it. Like an wild animal in a trap, it's fighting, thrashing against the confines, desperate, desperate, desperate.

"Ever since you met him," The stranger's voice is back, "You've built a solid relationship with Kacchan, as equals." Why does he inherently know the stranger's talking about Katsuki? "If it's you that calls to him... He'll listen!"

"Shit, Ei, I-- Fuck, I shouldn't have--"

Kirishima's body moves before he can think.

His arm is outstretched towards Bakugo, hand trembling violently. The desperation is still tempestuous inside him, the tears burning in his eyes. He wants the blond's hand in his, needs it. Why? There's significance behind it. But he can't place it. Come on.

Bakugo's hand unwaiveringly clasps onto his, gripping tight. There's no hesitancy, no trace of unsure emotions as he stares Kirishima down. His lips are drawn tight, but not in a way that denotes anger or irritation. But the blond's gaze is intense. It's like he's trying to get a message across without speaking, trying to project it from his mind into Kirishima's. Kirishima's gaze falters under the pressure, and he looks to their hands, reflexively tightening his grip on Bakugo.

And he sees it.

There's two people, each on one side of him. The cold is biting at his skin, the rushing wind amplifying the dropped temperature, but he doesn't care, he'd freeze a thousand times over if it meant saving Katsuki. He's in the air, along with the people hanging off his sides. He whips his head around, his gaze narrowing in on Katsuki, who looks like an ant from this perspective. But even with the distance, their gazes lock and he throws his arm out and screams, "Come on!". And Katsuki does. He's blasting through the air, aiming straight for him. His hand slams into his, and Katsuki breaks out into a grin Kirishima can only describe as feral, eyes wide a mix of fear and relief and amusement and trust. And Katsuki speaks through his smile, his voice clear, even above the rushing wind around them. "You idiot!"

The tears are trailing down Kirishima's face now, but he's composed enough to say, "You're safe." He looks up at Bakugo in time to see the blond's jaw tighten slightly, and nod in response.

"I'm safe." His voice is gruff, but soft. It's comforting. Red eyes never leave him as Bakugo repeats back, "You're safe."

Something about the way he says that causes Kirishima to inhale sharply, as little flashes play in his head. Katsuki's there with him. They're both younger. They're in a dorm. Neighbors? Late night. Shared beds. Curled up next to one another. His bed one night. "You're safe," He says. Nightmares. Katsuki's breathing erracticly. "I'm safe," Katsuki exhales. His bed another night. More nightmares. "You're safe." He says again. Katsuki reaches for his hand. "I'm safe," Katsuki replies. Katsuki's bed now. New nightmares. He's the one trembling this time, he's the one unable to breathe properly. "You made it, Eijirou. You helped Fat." Katsuki murmurs. Foreheads pressed together. "You're safe." The mental image of a flurry of punches, of a man in a yellow hoodie suffering. "You're safe." Reassurance. Fingers dig into the back of Katsuki's shirt. "I'm safe," he replies shakily. Katsuki shifts. They're reaching for each others' hands. "I'm safe."

"I..." Kirishima's voice trembles, and he swallows. "I'm... safe."

The reaction from them both is instant. For Bakugo, it's like the tension in his strings have snapped, and he finally allows himself to breathe, his shoulders slumping slightly, his eyes closing momentarily, but his hand never waivers in its grip of Kirishima's. For Kirishima, it feels as though a door has been opened, and Katsuki's waiting for him on the other side. Like a dam has burst, cracking under the pressure built up inside. His grip too, never waivers.

"I'm safe." Kirishima repeats again, reassurance and support and comfort and trust and an amalgamation of so many different feelings bubbling up from inside of him. It's almost overwhelming, the tears pouring down his face seemingly endless in their flow. "I'm safe, Katsuki."

He hears Bakugo mutter a soft 'fuck' under his breath, before the blond gets up from his chair, sliding into the hospital bed next to Kirishima, never letting go of his hand the entire time. Kirishima doesn't hesitate to slide to one side of the bed to give Bakugo some room, the two of them barely able to fit on the single bed together. Neither seems to mind though, as Bakugo gets under the covers, their bodies slotting next to each other damn near perfectly, and only once they've settled do they let go of each others' hands. Bakugo's quick to clutch onto the front of Kirishima's hospital gown, and press his head against his shoulder, and as Kirishima looks down, he notices the subtle shake of Bakugo's shoulders, notices the hushed sniffles, the attempts to steady his breathing. Kirishima wastes no time in wrapping his arms around the other male, rubbing one hand up and down his back reassuringly.

Bakugo seems to settle after a few moments, and unlike the awkward silences that happened previously, this one is far more tolerable, comfortable, almost.

Resting his chin atop Bakugo's head, Kirishima speaks. "...What are we, exactly?" His voice is gentle, and while his hand has ceased rubbing Bakugo's back, both his thumbs brush circles at his shoulder blades. "You're... important. I know that. You feel safe, comforting. Like home." Bakugo huffs a laugh, and Kirishima can feel the reverberations from the action under his hands. "But you're more than that, aren't you? Honestly, if you had asked me like, 10 minutes ago, I woulda said we were like, cousins or something, but--"

"Cousins?!" Bakugo rears his head back, and for a moment, Kirishima fears someone has switched out the Bakugo from moments ago with a demon or something with how angrily flabberghasted he looks. "Your dumb ass fucking thought we were cousins?!"

Kirishima raises his hands then, laughing awkwardly as Bakugo glares up at him. "Mina was talking to me about best friends, but mentioned some people named Sero and Kaminari, not you! She only mentioned you after! And the doctor only kicked out Mina when she said she only wanted family in the room! And we both have red eyes, apparently! I'm sorry, its not like--"

"Augh, shut up!" Bakugo groaned, leaning up to knock his forehead against Kirishima's. "Goddamnit, Eijirou, I'd ask you to remind me why I love your dumb ass, but you wouldn't know how to answer, would you?"

Love. Kirishima's eyes go wide at the spoken word, and that something inside of them that was wanting to get out - regardless of the semi-sated state it'd fallen into after the two curled up next to each other - feels like it'd finally been freed. Like a bird let loose from it's cage, Kirishima's heart fluttered in his chest, his mouth tearing into a wide, toothy grin.

Bakugo watches as the pieces seem to fall into place for Kirishima, and grins himself. "We're engaged, idiot. You fuckin' proposed to me several months ago, even though we agreed neither one of us would make any big purchases because we're trying to save for our own Hero Agency. But you went behind my back and surprised me, not lettin' me be the one to fuckin' propose because you're a sentimental bastard."

Kirishima can't help the way a warmth blooms in his chest, upon his face. He can't suppress the laugh that bubbles out of him, gently pressing his forehead against Bakugo's as the blond rolls his eyes with a smirk. "For all those angry sounding words, I'm guessing you weren't that upset," Kirishima manages to get out in between breaths of laughter, "since you apparently said yes."

With a 'tch!', Bakugo moved one of his hands to shove Kirishima's face away from him, though there was no real force behind the action, and he moreso just smooshed Kirishima's face than actually pushed him away. "Real snarky talk, comin' from someone who can't remember in the first place." There was a brief moment where Kirishima tensed at Bakugo's words, feeling guilty that the blond was right; That he couldn't remember proposing in the first place. He realized Bakugo must have noticed, because the hand that had been smooshing his face twitched, before pulling back some. "Fuck, Ei, I--"

A sad smile tugged at Kirishima's lips then, and he moved one of his hands from Bakugo's back to grab at the hand that Bakugo had been pulling away. He heard Bakugo's breath hitch as they hands slipped into one anothers' easily, and as Kirishima pulled them towards his lips, brushing his lips gently against Bakugo's knuckles. He looked up at Bakugo upon hearing the blond exhale, red eyes meeting red. "It's fine, Katsuki." Everytime he said the blond's name, it was like his heart would skip a beat. It felt good, felt right, felt so much more natural than simply 'Bakugo'. "You'll help me remember, won't you?"

Bakugo's eyes go wide at that, before his brows furrow and a look of fierce determination burns brightly in his expression. "What kind of fucking question is that?" He half-growls, before lowering their hands from Kirishima's face and quickly crashing their lips together. Kirishima's suprised at the action, but finds himself easily falling into it, as Bakugo secures his grip in Kirishima's, holding onto it like a lifeline, and moves his free hand to hold the back of Kirishima's neck. Kissing Bakugo is like saying the blond's given name; it feels right. Feels like home.

But Kirishima's quick to pick up on the desperation in the kiss, on an urgency, an insistency that begins to set a worried flame alight in his gut. He breaks the kiss and opens his eyes, slightly breathless as his gaze falls upon Bakugo's face.

Katsuki's crying.

Its not a body wracking sob like Kirishima himself had been letting out earlier, it's calm and silent, aside from the faint trembling Bakugo seems to be attempting to suppress and the small tears slowly making their way out of closed eyes. Kirishima's quick to let go of Bakugo's hand to instead cup the side of his face, his thumb brushing away the tears that fall near it. "Katsuki?"

Bakugo leans into the touch, but his lips curl in on themselves, and he shakes his head slightly. He breathes out of his nose, quiet for a few seconds before speaking. "... I thought I fuckin' lost you, Eijirou." His voice is soft, so goddamn soft. It's soft and vulnerable-sounding and shaky and everything in Kirishima's brain is saying is not very Katsuki. Bakugo's eyes open then, and Kirishima's stomach churns at the desperation that's hidden behind a forced mask of faux intimidation. "If you ever put me through the same hell that the past damn near 36 hours have been ever again, I'll fuckin' kill you myself, got it?"

Kirishima finds himself nodding, lips wobbling as he recalls the memory of Katsuki yelling out his name as he passed out in the blond's arms, of the tears the blond shed, the twisted, tense expression he wore. He recalls Mina's words about how badly he was injured, about how long he was in surgery, about how Katsuki was apparently a mess the whole time. How he'd apparently been unconscious for over 24 hours. Kirishima shifts then, the movement awkward as he pulls his other arm out from under Bakugo, but he's quick to place that hand on the other side of Bakugo's face. "Katsuki..." Kirishima leans in, presses their lips together gently for a brief moment before pulling away, though Bakugo's quick to chases after him, insistent on another peck of a kiss, and another, and another. Kirishima eventually pulls away though, if only slightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Every fucking time I'd close my eyes, I'd see you coughing up blood in my arms." Bakugo's eyes are closed again, his head shaking slightly from side to side as he spoke. "I'd see you pass out, you going fucking limp in my fucking arms, and--" He cuts himself off, brows furrowing as his nose scrunched. "I shoulda noticed those kids before then, shouldn'ta let that damn villain catch me off guard, shouldn'ta--"

"Katsuki--"

"They said you had a goddamn seizure in the operating room." Bakugo's breathing has become somewhat ragged by this point, and the hand of his that Kirishima had previously been holding moves up to grab one of Kirishima's wrists. "They said that if it wasn't for the fact that your hardening had at least managed to reach the base of your neck, then the impact mighta fuckin'--"

Bakugo's cut off by Kirishima's lips pressing against his, gentle in their empathetic insistence. Whatever words the blond was going to say died in his throat as he kissed Kirishima back, grip on his wrist tight. Upon feeling Kirishima's thumbs brush away at his gradually slowing tears, Bakugo pulled away, cursing softly under his breath, nudging his forehead against Kirishima's as he opens his eyes. "Eijirou, I--"

"Tell me tomorrow." Kirishima murmurs softly, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Dr. Higurashi said she'd tell me about my injuries and stuff tomorrow after a few more tests, so tell me then. For now..." He pulls his hands away then, using his arm to wrap back around Bakugo, hugging him close, "I just wanna lay here, holding you."

A huff of a laugh escapes Bakugo then, and he pulls his head away from Kirishima, slotting it instead snugly on Kirishima's shoulder, his temple pressing against Kirishima's neck. He stays silent though, a notion Kirishima doesn't argue or press against, and the two fall into an eased state, tangled up in each other. There's a brief thought in Kirishima's head of 'The hospital staff would probably prefer Katsuki be in his own bed', but 1) Kirishima doesn't want the blond to leave his arms, and 2) he figures should totally be fine since they're engaged, right?

One of Kirishima's hands moves upwards to the back of Bakugo's head, threading his fingers through the other male's hair. He hears a hum of contentment leave Bakugo, and smiles to himself, leaning the side of his head against the blond's. After a moment, Kirishima speaks. "... Hey, Katsuki?" A grunt of acknowledgement is all the response he gets from Bakugo, but its half-hearted, and Kirishima can't tell if Bakugo's even fully awake or not. Regardless, he continues. "If one good thing came out of this," he says with soft smile, "its that I get to fall in love with you all over again."

Bakugo tenses in Kirishima's hold, and pulls away from his spot to look at fiancé. There's a vibrant flush of color spread along his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears, and his expression is contorted into a flustered mess, though its apparent he's actively trying to keep it schooled and steely. Its enough to jar Kirishima just a slight bit, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Bakugo beats him to the punch.

"You absolute bastard." He says, the corners of his lips fighting against the urge to curl upwards in amusement. "You sentimental-ass motherfucker." He's visibly losing the fight, shaking his head as his body trembles, though whether its out of amusement or frustration, Kirishima can't fully tell. "You fucking--" Bakugo finally gives in to the urge to laugh, the sound soft and in the back of his throat. "I can't believe you."

Kirishima finds there's a bright smile tugging at his own lips, and soon he's laughing as well, the two of them tangled up in each other, in their own little bubble of comfort, if only for the time being.

"I can't believe I love your dumb ass." Bakugo groans through a smile, shaking his head before nuzzling back into his previous position, pressing a kiss to Kirishima's neck. Kirishima just laughs, and pulls the covers up on them a little more, snuggling up against both the bed and Bakugo. He wants to stay up longer, wants to spend more time talking with Katsuki, holding and feeling and experiencing Katsuki, wants to prolong the inevitablility of the morning's coming, of the solemn seriousness that's going to come with the beginning of his road to recovery.

But he knows one thing.

He trusts Katsuki to be there with him every step of the way. He trusts Katsuki to always have a hand out for him, to help him when he needs it. He might not have his memories, but there is one thing he's absolutely sure of. His trust... his faith in Katsuki? It's solid, it's steadfast, it's resolute.

It's unbreakable.

It's unwaivering.

#Krys Writes #My Hero Academia #KiriBaku #Eijirou Kirishima #Katsuki Bakugo #Mina Ashido

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 5

“Under the Knife” - Part 5

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Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3,100-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talks of Murder, Violence, Emotions, Cursing. Let me know if I missed anything! 

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy​ @a-person-unlabled

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As much as you didn’t want to have this meeting with Crawford, you knew that you had to. You had to fill in not only Jack but Hannibal as well on where you were when it came to motive, suspects, and connections. The car ride back to the office was silent as you struggled to focus on case-related thoughts as opposed to the fact that your brother and Hannibal thought you needed backup. 

It wasn’t until you parked in your normal spot at headquarters that you felt yourself slip. 

Do they really not believe in me that much? Will, I can understand. He was wary about me joining from the start. But Hannibal? He was so supportive at dinner. He said that I was ‘wonderful and valuable.’ Why would he say that if he was just going to be watching over me and double-checking my work? I--

While Will seemed to not let his emotions come up often, you were the opposite. You were very empathetic and even though you had spent many years working on getting a better handle on them, you couldn’t help with your emotions got the best of you.

You managed to make it to your office before the angry tears started to spill. 

There were two soft knocks on your office door. You quickly scrambled to wipe your face with the inside of your shirt and grab a few papers that you planned on showing Jack in an effort to look okay. 

“Come on in.” You spoke just loud enough to be heard through the door, hoping it was just a student or delivery and wouldn’t have to turn around and face them. You heard the door slowly creak open a little, Hannibal peeked in.

“Everything alright, (Y/N)?” You let out a single harsh exhale in disbelief.  You kept your back facing him as you picked up a few more relevant papers to add to the growing pile in your arm.

“As alright as they can be.” You cursed internally as you felt the shakiness in your voice betray you. A normal person wouldn’t pick up on it, but you were sure Hannibal had.

“I understand you may not want to talk about this, but I think--” You quickly turn around and cut him off, really not in the mood to hear whatever explanation he has right now for his or Will’s behavior.

“I think Crawford is waiting for us. I would like to get this meeting over with and then go home so I can have an actual meal today. So how about we start moving?” You were sure he noticed the extreme lack of eye contact and the stuffiness in your nose making your voice slightly nasal. You were ready for him to ask about your wellbeing again.

Instead, you saw him nod once and held out his hands. 

“Well then, let's not keep him waiting. May I?” You gladly handed your stack of papers over to him while you picked out one more file and unhooked your bag from the back of your desk chair, in hopes that you could leave right after this session with Crawford. 

~~~~~~~~

“So what we have so far is that Dr. Pencalt was a neurologist with no obvious ties to Dr. Everet, Chasten, or Loreit other than the fact that they all live relatively close to one another. We also now have a potential height range and the small detail that he is left-handed.”

Hannibal hadn’t even shut the door to Jack’s office behind the two of you yet before Jack started talking. He wasn’t even facing you two, instead, he was looking at the board of evidence that now had a few pictures of tonight’s scene on it. Hannibal placed your papers on the desk in front of you as you made your way to a seat. You felt yourself zoning out because of how tired you were. Not only from the lack of sleep, but now your eyes were slightly stinging thanks to the tears that had slipped in your office moments ago. 

While you knew what Jack was saying, you felt yourself zoning out even more. It wasn’t new information and you were so spent. You hadn’t realized how far into your mind you were drifting until you felt a shoe tap against yours, jolting you back into reality. Hannibal had seen the minuscule fade in your eyes as you stared at the stack of papers. He knew Jack wouldn’t handle it well, so he did his best to help you.

You tuned back in as Jack started to turn to now face you two. 

"Dr. Lecter, do you think that this killer sees the spouses as nothing special, or are we missing something involving them?"

"I believe they were merely obstacles that our killer has to get through. (Y/N) said it best. These spouses are nothing more than 'trash that is taken care of.'"

You hated to admit that it hurt that Jack had to verify with Dr. Lecter on your findings. But it was a bit nice to know that Hannibal was on your side despite what your brain was told you back in your office. 

Jack then looked to you, his face not showing the indignation you were sure was bubbling inside him.

“What else you got?”

Slightly rubbing a bit of pain from your eyes, you looked in your notebook, trying to figure out what else to say. You saw a scribble and then reached to your pile of papers on Jack’s desk to try to find the specific ones you were looking for. 

“Well, I started to go through and find all of the doctors that work in any medical field within a 50-mile radius. I then tried to narrow it down by eliminating all of the females.”

“Why disregard females?”

“Because unless one of these female doctors is Wonder Woman, I don’t think any of them would be able to physically disable men like Dr. Chasten, who was a rather large man, by themselves.” Jack just nods his head in agreement and you keep your slowly derailing train of thought going.

“I uh-- I haven’t been able to do anything else with this list because we only just found this dominant hand and a good height range an hour ago. And I’ll be able to narrow down that height range even more when I get the angle of the incision point back from Beverly or Jimmy. But it's at least a start to what we’re looking for. ” 

You look up from your suspect list as you slide it to Jack on the other side of the desk, only to find him looking at you, expecting more. Reaching for your notebook, you fumble through your scrawlings again, trying to find any information that would please him. Hannibal watched your interaction and decided to step in.

“May I ask something?” 

“As long as it's not about my personal life.” You still had your eyes scanning your notebook as you responded. 

“It isn’t.” You looked up from your notes, saw that he was serious, and nod for him to continue. “Why did the bedding stand out to you, (Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“At the crime scene, you said that ‘the sheets are flat.’ What significance does that have?”

“Right. Um… Because it's odd.” Jack confusingly looks from you to Hannibal, who is his normal stoic self but still curious. You see that the two men don’t see what you do, so you pull out the crime scene photos from all of the cases that show the dead doctors in their beds.

“Because the killer fixed them before meticulously placing the various parts of Dr. Pencalt out. He didn’t do that for any of the other ones. And, I also noticed that Dr. Pencalt’s eyes were left open, unlike the others who have their’s closed. It's the first time we’ve seen either of these things.”

“It is also the first time he’s killed in one room, then moved the victim to the bed.” Hannibal chimed in.

“Yes! Exactly. But, the bed still would have been messy from Dr. Pencalt’s rushed exit to the bathroom to try and get his gun. Which means that our killer wanted this ‘sculpture’ of his to be nicer looking than his previous ones.” 

“Why?” Crawford could see what you were saying, be he needed more.

 “I-I’m not sure yet.” 

You looked down at your notebook in slight shame. So when Jack raised his voice and hit his hand on his desk in frustration, you couldn’t help but jump in your seat a bit, causing Hannibal to stiffen slightly. He had a watchful eye on you as he let Jack speak.

“Dammit, (Y/N)! This is why I brought you on. You’re supposed to be able to get inside this maniac’s brain and lead us to him. You’re implying that our killer gift-wrapped a victim at a scene that we have seen now four different times. So I’m gonna ask again: Why is this one so special?”

 “May--Maybe he has some sort of emotional attachment to this vic. O-or maybe this is about his ego and he knows we were now taking this- him seriously. So he wanted to show us a new mosaic that he was proud of, like a child showing their parents a shitty piece of macaroni art that they think is a masterpiece. Or maybe it’s none of these ideas and it’s something completely out of left field that I haven’t figured out. The point is: I don’t know yet, Jack!” 

You didn’t expect yourself to burst like that. But the mix of your personal feelings about Hannibal and your brother, your lack of rest, and Crawford’s accusatory tone had set you off. You focused on fiddling with your ring to try to reign yourself back in and attempt to clock out for the night.

While you tried to breathe for a few seconds, the men just stared. Hannibal was observing you, making sure you were okay enough that he wouldn’t have to physically assist you. Jack on the other hand was silent out of surprise. The two of them had seen Will at his most stressed, but they’d never seen you like this. Jack wasn’t sure how to proceed until you spoke again, much calmer and quieter than a moment ago.

“I need more evidence. We can sit here and spout out theories all night. But without details from whatever the techs got tonight, nothing can stick. So when the gang in the lab has results of any kind or we get more information from the autopsies, then I can reexamine everything I have and get a better idea of what the hell we’re looking for. For now, I’m exhausted, I’m hungry, and need a shower.”

“Are you quitting this case?” Your gaze shot from your hands in front of you to Crawford’s incredulous face; Now worried that he thought you were unfit for this job.

“No. Absolutely not. I want this asshole caught. I-- I just need to rest. I’ve been going almost non-stop since I signed those papers and took the files home. Hannibal can even vouch for me that I was immediately engrossed in this case the moment I got home. I promise that I will be more productive when I can get a sandwich and a few hours of sleep in me.”

You tried to keep your features calm, but you couldn’t help the slight sound of pleading in your voice. You knew you were right and that you just needed a small break. You felt the small sting of disheartened tears fighting their way back into your already sore eyes, hoping that Hannibal didn’t pick up on them. Jack looked to Hannibal for confirmation, getting a silent nod from him. Crawford slowly nodded his head in understanding.

“You’re right. Go home. We will pick this up tomorrow.” 

He motioned to the door. You thanked him and tried to stand up and calmly walk out without showing that one of those irritating tears had slid down your cheek as you turned away from Jack. Hannibal had gotten up and opened the door for you, but before you could pass through the threshold, Jack spoke up. 

“If you do think of anything, write it down and tell me first thing tomorrow.” You just nod and continue out the door, trying to make it to your car before you let yourself cry anymore. Hannibal was going to follow and ensure your safety as he usually did, but Jack stopped him.

“Not you, Dr. Lecter. I need to speak with you about a few things in private. Shouldn’t take long.” Hannibal nodded as he saw you quickly turn the corner towards the elevators. He shut the door and settled back in his seat at Crawford’s desk.

“I take it (Y/N) didn’t like the idea of you being on this case now too?”

“No. I suspect she thinks that Will and I don’t believe in her ability to handle this intense of a case as well as keep herself afloat. I’ve tried to get her to open up about it, but I fear that it may be too soon to bring it up.”

“Do you think she will be able to stay afloat?”

“I do. (Y/N) is a brilliant individual who’s empathic intuitions match those of her brother. That in addition to her curiosity for the abnormal, and desire for justice make her an ideal candidate for this position. However, I believe that she needs time to process everything that has happened over the course of her first 3 days here. She has only dealt with high-profile cases like this one after they have been solved. She’s never been in an active case of this caliber. She is bound to get overwhelmed and think that she isn’t good enough during this first week. I suspect that she will bounce back soon enough.”

Jack wasn’t sure what exactly he was trying to ask, but Hannibal saw the look of confusion on his face and continued.

“(Y/N) thinks that because she hasn’t found anything substantial yet and another body has been found, that she is not good at what she does. When in reality, she is right, we are at a standstill until we get more evidence.” 

At first Crawford wasn’t sure about having Hannibal ride in the backseat through this case. But now he was thankful. Through Hannibal’s understanding of your life outside of the FBI, he was able to remind Jack that you were human and could only do so much without a breather. Something he had failed to remember with Will at times..

Jack stood up and got his jacket that was hanging on the back of his desk chair, stretching a bit as he stood up. Hannibal stood as well, anticipating a dismissal.

“I see. Well, I think we should follow (Y/N)’s example and take the rest of the night to let things settle in. Start fresh tomorrow morning. Our’s killer’s timer is reset; We got less than two weeks to catch this lunatic.” 

~~~~~~~~

You were more than glad to get your keys in your door and finally be able to let your guard down. Your stomach growled as you turned the handle, thinking about the leftover pizza you had in your fridge. Before you could step too far into your apartment, you felt your shoe shift as you stepped on a piece of paper. You thought nothing of it, assuming it was a paper from one of your files that had fallen out, and plopped it on your counter, too focused on getting food heated up and getting out of your work clothes to read over it right now. 

After a quick shower to get the grime of today off of you, you popped some pizza in the microwave and got dressed in your pajamas. As you took the plate out, your eyes settled on the piece of paper that was on the counter. You set down your dinner and walked over to pick it up. One side was blank but the other was a printed out screenshot of an article from the awful tabloid, Tattle Crime. 

“The Virginia Scalpel Strikes Again! - A Deeper Look into the Work of a Killer and the Minds that the FBI Hired to Help Find Him.”

“Why were Dr. Pencalt and his wife targeted by the Scalpel? We still don’t know his motive, but the FBI brought on another member to their team in order to try and help answer some of our dying questions. (Y/N) Graham works within the Behavioral Science Unit at the FBI, but has never worked an active major case before this one. Which may be why we also saw Dr. Hannibal Lecter at the crime scene. We believe that she is shadowing him, learning how to run with the big dogs. The duo could be an almost unstoppable psychological force in the utility belt of Jack Crawford.

Much like her brother Will Graham, who we have talked about on this site before--”

You rolled your eyes and let out an annoyed sigh, not believing the shit you were seeing right now. Not only did Freddie just do the basic research on Dr. Pencalt that anyone could do from a simple google search, but then she had the gall to try to discredit your position on the team. All because she was new and Hannibal was at the crime scene with you.

You couldn’t read another demeaning word tonight. 

I was shadowing Hannibal?! That’s some misogynistic crap! I don’t even want to know what she has to say when it comes to comparing me to Will. This is a new low for Hannibal or Will. Going to a TC article as a fear tactic to try to get me to resign? Not today, boys. 

You were going to text them and call them out on their bullshit, but decided against it; not having the energy to deal with any more human interaction unless it was absolutely necessary. So you shoved the print-out into your work notebook and tossed it back in your work back, ignoring it until tomorrow.

For now? Pizza, wine, and a good comedy special were calling your name.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #Hannibal TV #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fandom #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham / reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter / reader

[heirloommtomatoes]

don’t read the last page but i stay

Mickey and Ian go on another lunch date :) Just some quick super simple fluff! Literally nothing at all happens in this other then a cute date. These boys deserve nothing but sweet domesticity forever and ever, thanks.

Word Count: 2.3k~

———

Mickey picks Ian up from his afternoon shifts whenever they can cram it into their schedule. Do they live together? Sure. Did they get out of prison barely a year ago where their combined shared space was half the size of their Gallagher house bedroom? Sure. Do they still try to spend almost every waking moment together? Absolutely.

Ian’s schedule as an EMT, as sporadic as it has the potential to be, has fallen into a steady routine the past few months. Since Debbie’s arrest, Lip moving out, and the increased responsibility in the Gallagher house, Rita makes sure that every Friday Ian hands his shift over by 5pm. Mickey was promoted at his work — a promotion that warranted his first real Gallagher party a few months back — and is working steadily at the mall as the general security manager.

Ian’s laughing with the new members of his team over some pictures of their kids from last weekend when his phone buzzes. He slides it half-way out of his pocket to look at the screen:

Mick: hey dipshit I took a photo of me waiting for you

Mick: Attachment: 1 Image

Ian swipes on the message and unlocks his phone. The photo is of a mummified, presumably ancient corpse sitting cross-legged on a ridge, probably out of some National Geographic article he’d found while scrolling endlessly through random news pages while waiting for him. He stifles a laugh as he types his response.

Ian: 🖕

Ian: be out in a sec

Mick: 🖕

“That your husband?” Samantha, a younger EMT fresh out of training, nods toward his phone.

“Yeah,” Ian responds as he slips his phone back into his pocket, “Meeting him for dinner and drinks.”

Rita looks over her shoulder from where she’s rummaging around her locker. Ian expects her to make some witty remark at his expense as per usual, but instead: “You got the best relationship record outta any of us here, Gallagher,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “Eleven years, a bipolar diagnosis, and several prison stints seems to be the trick.”

He doesn’t mean to really joke about it; if what they went through together doesn’t count as some seriously real shit, he’s terrified to think of what does. But if he can’t make light of it now and then, if he can’t at least try to ponder the distance between then and now and look back at how far they’ve come and laugh at the simple joy of it all, then what the hell else is he supposed to do?

Laughs ripple around the locker room as Ian raises an warm to wave goodbye to everyone, overlapping “Bye Ian!”s and “Have a good weekend”s following him out.

Ian emerges from the garage, shrugging off his EMT jacket in the mid-afternoon summer sun in a way that makes Mickey’s heart flutter in his chest. He carries it loosely in a hand at his side.

“Bout time, Gallagher,” Mickey says to him with a grin. He’s been smiling a lot these days, he thinks; not that that’s anything new around Ian. He’s been making him smile since he was seventeen.

“Hey,” Ian responds easily, throwing an arm around his shoulders and planting a kiss to his cheek. A blush creeps up Mickey’s face and he grins at the ground as they walk. Ian starts babbling about the kid who broke his arm on the monkey bars and an older woman who fell down her stairs and Mickey listens, butting in for the odd comment or exclamation here and there as they make their way down the block to Boystown. It’s become their once-a-month Friday evening tradition. Mickey picks him up from work, they fill each other in on their days as they walk, they grab dinner and drinks either at one of their favourite spots in Boystown if they’re feeling like they want their own little escape, or at The Alibi if they feel like keeping it close to home. Today is too beautiful of a day to not make use of the clean outdoor patios the bars in Boystown can provide.

Mickey recounts his day when Ian’s done and maybe it doesn’t sound quite as glamorous on the surface of things, but it barely occurs to either of them. They’re both doing something they’re good at, something they’re each coming to realize they genuinely enjoy, something that makes them feel useful, and if that isn’t success, what is?

“So this old woman stuffs a bra between her boobs. Like hell I was gonna reach in there and drag it out,” Mickey huffs as he finishes up his story. Well, maybe something they genuinely enjoy most of the time. Ian laughs and it’s Mickey’s favourite sound. It’ll always be Mickey’s favourite sound.

“You sure you’re not gay?” Ian asks skeptically, recounting all the times Mickey’s jokingly —and not-as-jokingly — denied the label.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Mickey says, casting a mischievous glance his way, “My husband is, though.”

“Ohh, I see,” Ian says with a nod, casually changing the subject as he remembers Mickey’s earlier texts, “Oh hey listen, that was a really cute photo of you earlier, Mick. You’ve found your angles, I’m impressed,” Ian says, his voice dripping with mischievous sarcasm.

“Ohhh, thanks, man,” Mickey responds with a playful nudge to Ian’s ribs, “My beauty secret is this really cool thing my husband does called making me wait for ten fucking minutes.”

Ian raises his brows at him. Game on. He opens his mouth to respond in kind, but Mickey’s grabbing him by the upper arm and tugging him into a brick-lined alleyway. Ian grunts in protest, hands flying to Mickey’s biceps to steady himself before he’s shoved against the wall.

Mickey’s kissing him like he’s been thinking about doing all day while Ian’s out here being fucking Superman, like he’s been thinking about doing his whole life. He feels Ian’s smile against his mouth and his heart leaps in his chest and he loves him. He loves him. Mickey’s not sure how or when it happens, but suddenly Ian’s grabbing him and he’s being spun and his back’s being shoved against the wall so quickly his breath almost leaves him.

“Watch it, tough guy,” he breaths, and doesn’t mean a word of it. It’s the closest he’ll come to saying do whatever you want with me.

Ian huffs a laugh, threading his left hand into Mickey’s right as he studies his husband’s face. The cold metal of his wedding band brushes against his fingers and Mickey leans forward, capturing Ian’s lips in a warm kiss that reminds him of the dugouts, reminds him of when they were teenagers too skittish and childish and young to know what to do with the swelling in their chests every time they looked at each other. Ian’s the first to pull back, but he tugs on Mickey’s hand and leads them out of the alley.

“I’m hungry,” he says with a shrug by way of explanation when Mickey gives him an incredulous stare.

“So am I,” Mickey replies quickly, glancing pointedly downwards toward Ian’s crotch. Ian barks a laugh and rolls his eyes. He’s never said it out loud, but damn if he doesn’t love how fucking funny his husband is. No one really knows that about Mickey, he thinks. Distantly he remember’s Mickey’s “now they’re black and blue balls” in the hotel room that one night when they were teenagers. Damn if he didn’t think about that one and swoon over his protectiveness and Southside charm for a good week after. In the back of his mind, he remembers Byron’s list of complaints: he’s socially inept, he’s politically ignorant, he’s violent…

Meanwhile, Ian looks fondly at Mickey and knows that he’s funny, he’s thoughtful, he’s loyal, he’s his husband.

“The fuck you starin’ at?” Mickey snaps at him, an eyebrow raised halfway up his damn forehead.

Ian rolls his eyes, “Nothin’. What do you wanna eat?”

Ian sees the hint of a shy smile on his face as Mickey turns his gaze to the various restaurants they’ve been passing, “Uh, I’m kinda feelin’ Sheffield’s, man. That sound good to you?” He asks, looking back at Ian. The midday sun silhouettes his head, creating a halo out of his red hair and glowing against the hard edges of his face. Mickey remembers the round-faced, freckled boy at the convenience store with the floppy bangs and oversized flannels. Hell, he remembers him before that. He remembers third grade, and some loser with a mop of curly red locks and oversized front teeth leaning over and asking him for a pencil. Looking at him now with his wedding band catching the light, his chiseled jaw, and the lop-sided grin directed right at Mickey, he looks like fucking Adonis.

“…Mick?” Ian’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“Huh?”

“I was saying we’re here, Neil Armstrong,” Ian quips, “Come back to Earth, I wanna eat.”

“Ay, references like that are my thing,” Mickey says as Ian’s arm around his shoulder steers them toward Sheffield’s. They continue bickering as they walk in the restaurant, much to the server’s constant exasperation as she leads them to the patio. “Since when?” “Since fuckin’…always, man.”

They sit out in the Chicago summer sun, basking in the warmth of it together as they sip their drinks. Mickey, ever the loyalist, gets the cheapest beer on the menu after casting his eyes over the ludicrously long list of names, only a third of which he can pronounce. That’s what you get for going to a brewery, he figures absentmindedly to Ian. Ian gets one of the beers lower in proof, but he knows it’ll still bring him a pleasant buzz.

“If nothing else man, your meds make getting drunk economical as hell,” Mickey says to him with a breathy laugh as he hands the waiter their menus with a nod.

“You’re telling me,” Ian responds as he leans back lazily, comfortably spreading his legs in the chair as he grabs the sunglasses hanging off his shirt collar and slides them over his eyes. Mickey follows suit with his own pair of sunglasses and damn if the two of them don’t look good. Mickey changed out of his work uniform before coming to meet him and he’s wearing a pair of jeans that actually fit him, a black tank and blue short sleeve button up top that’s open and fluttering in the light breeze. He looks so relaxed and in his element, and Ian can’t help but wonder if this is what he used to wear in Mexico. For once the memory isn’t tinged with heartache; they’re here now.

“You look good,” Ian says, eyeing Mickey up and down from across the wooden picnic-like table.

Mickey flashes him a smile, “Says you,” he responds, and it’s so disgustingly sweet and domestic that he barely knows what to do with himself. He’ll never get used to this, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to. Ian smiles in return before Micky continues and leans forward, “I was thinking about getting my GED.”

“No shit,” Ian responds, mimicking Mickey in leaning forward across the table, a casual hand still around his beer, “What prompted that?” He asks before taking a sip.

Mickey shrugs, “I like my job now, but I was talking to Larry and he thinks it’d be a good idea. It’d give me better hirability or whatever, and…I dunno, I like my job now,” he repeats almost sheepishly, like he’s about to admit something terrible, “But I’ve been thinking about wanting…more, I guess?”

Ian smiles and reaches across to put a hand over the one Mickey has resting casually on the table, “Let’s make it happen, then.”

Mickey meets his eye for a brief moment with a shy half-smile that he hides by taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m serious, Mick. We can get some study books for you, Kev and V can look after the kids when you need the house to be quiet for two seconds so you can study…” he trails off, lowering his head slightly to prompt Mickey to meet his gaze.

“Alright, alright, Jesus,” Mickey finally says with a chuckle, turning his hand over to grasp Ian’s and rub his thumb over his knuckles, “Love you,” he adds quietly, but it’s not shy or embarrassed or scared; it’s just for Ian, and only Ian.

The two of them sit for what could be hours or minutes longer, chatting about their future plans like it’s nothing but it means fucking everything to both of them. Neither of them had ever really let themselves dream of a future like this. Whenever Ian’s mind had wandered to thinking of moments like this, of sentences like “Kev and V can look after the kids”, he’d dismissed it as the wishful thinking of a manic episode. “Fucked for life” had practically been Mickey’s life mantra. They share a house, they share food, they take turns making dinner, they have monthly goddamn traditions that include sunshine and drinks and risky kisses in alleyways.

They stay at Sheffield’s far longer than they had originally intended as the waiter informs them there’s live music that evening. So they stay, both buzzed on their beers and drunk on happiness and sun and music, sharing insults and laughs, basking in the comfort and familiarity of each other’s presence as the sun casts an orange glow over the Chicago skyline.

#gallavich fic #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #this is some teeth rotting fluff yall i went off #im a good mood today what can i say jksjks #i love my BOYS! #i had to pretend to know what its like to be attracted to men to write this so pls appreciate my efforts jsksj #jk but also ... #my writing

[cultml]

Taking My Leave      1/3

Where’s my head? I don’t have the mental acuity to build clocks in my head but I do enjoy pondering their place, purpose and things that might fill their space, do their job. I don’t know if it’s just the limits of my mental bandwidth or an oddity, when the stress of what’s been the day to day drops my mind begins to play with all the various “clocks” I had forgotten existed. It’s become clear only having intermittent clarity lately how much one’s perception over time sifts. You loose some relatives, make an effort to get comfortable with your own death, but it’s the death of a pet when you see a real shift, an acceptance of the reality. You stare at the clouds, thinking about the creativity it takes to see animals, that real creativity is finding new patterns, that collecting parts, parts of ideas, of questions is the fuel. After three years of that you remember the wonder at just how much space there is in a clear blue sky,  not running numbers or how many towers or stadiums fit, just the enormity of the space. That wonders is… more of a memory now…. a kind of deep appreciation…. just a part of who you are. That’s a gain, a deepening?

I’ve been driving home at a different time of day. Passed this wooden privacy fence down a side road. The sun was at the right angle to cast a shadow on the fence from tree up the road a bit. It happened two or three days in a row. I was looking at shadows on the road, sidewalk, etc. and the contrast of flowers and ornamental to the bricks or fences behind them at that moment and the sun on…. I lost the eyes of a son and grandson of carpenters, that spent their lives pouring foundations. The cement and sticks of it hadn’t entered my head in… years? I could summon it. I had no desire to do so. I had seen the world that way for so long… I am not constrained by it any more. I lost something that was a part of me  more free for it. The things that cross my mind in five minutes of a drive when stress and garbage is put aside. Lose and a gain? Integration of forgetting? Recently listening to Rick Beato, is changing the way I hear music (the music not the lyrics). It’s a reminder of the time is takes for real art….. still don’t have a handle on it. The complexity of it, the parts of the music, just to waste so much on lyrics that are a total misunderstandings of the world. It’s a gain of understanding not really of my making. All that to let you judge my sanity a bit and to seed the ground.

I am of the firm belief that a golden age is possible, though not probable. You in part have thank the progressives et al. for it. They have systematically destroyed all the institutions. The doors are open and the constants are gone. It’s not just the US alphabet soup or the broader shadow NGOs. It’s medicine. Too best practice / license orientated, with the guy that graduates last from med school problem to start. Then what I hope where good docs got caught behind accept transgenderism best practice or loose your license. To your fired if you don’t take the  experimental vaccine. Democracy is down the same road. The military and science and art and virtue and...  We have undone a couple of centuries of work.

The beginning of this is the the most important one, “ the death of God”. It’s better though of as the loss of the necessity for a supernatural explanation of day to day hardships. Less hardships and more knowledge was always going to lead us there, progressives not needed. Arguing if God was alive or not kept us from arguing if the moral order was sound or not. It may be the biggest human mistake. So now a couple millenia of advancement is on the table. The left can’t see the opportunities, they have their plans. The “right” ... for fuck sake. God and the church are dead. You can’t legislate morality. What worked may not be the only thing that works. Reversion to what was is not a reformation, in fact reversion slows reformation. And using government to do it.

People don’t seem to understand ideas are boundaries are walls. One wall must be torn down because the utopia lay just beyond it and the next must never be touched because it keeps hell at bay. The truth it’s neither and both. We want to argue about the walls when we should learn to build windows. The are two relevant ideas from Peterson. First that artists should be exploring the boundaries of the unknown, that is in fact their job.  To do that you have to first try and understand and explain the known at the edges. In doing that they should be illuminating possible paths forward. The second is that better is something that does everything the old thing did and more. So that cheap small appliance from the box store is more efficient? cheaper? more durable...? So different not better. Better is a hard thing. Creativity of and calculated risks by individuals are the only way to better. A society has to be build for those who can discover wisdom as well as those who will never understand it.

Getting people worked up about CRT is fine, what about 1619 project or a hundred other things. Explained simply, teach children that they are not an individual but a member of a group all the rest comes in and you have already lost... by third grade or so. You have people like Charlie Kirk..... clearly branded as an enemy of the left , that is increasing seen as an enemy of America, leading the charge against vaccinations for returning collage students even those who have had Covid. It’s a simple sane augment that is the sorts of weapons you need....now lost because dumdum had to plaster his face all over it. And the infrastructure bill and the Jan6 hearing, and this and that and so on. Both of the “sides” are hopelessly lost in their own realities.  You want to use what we know and really try something new, to try and foster an actual reformation, to try to open a door to a possible golden age.... they are both in the damn way.