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fett-djarin · 3 years

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Hand to Hand Practice

helo its another Paz Vizsla x f!reader!

MINORS DNI

Crossposted to AO3

Rating: 18+

Length: 2.2k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, sparring, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, PiV, creampie, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), slight spanking, somewhat of a size kink? Please let me know if I missed anything!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Thump.

Your back hit the floor. The breath was knocked from your lungs from the impact. That bastard--he threw me!

“Come on girl, that’s the best you’ve got?” Paz taunted you from a few feet away. You huffed, swiping a hand across your forehead to wipe away the sweat that dripped from your temples.

“You know I can’t throw you around, Paz,” you snapped back at him, glaring venom at the ceiling. His amused chuckle crackled through the vocoder. The dark T-visor of his helm appeared above you, looking down at your prone form. Paz held a hand out for you to take. His palm dwarfed yours, and he pulled you to your feet with seemingly no effort.

You groaned, feeling your spine pop as you stretched. Paz moved back to his spot. He bent his knees, crouching slightly and distributing his weight in a defensive stance. He beckoned you forward with a curl of his fingers. “Again.”

There wasn’t much room to spar in his ship, so Paz had shoved everything not bolted down to the sides and tossed a few heavy blankets on the floor in place of a mat to spare you from being thrown straight onto metal. Because you were thrown. Quite often. Paz let you get a few hits in before bodily lifting you and ending your assault. You were a good shot with a blaster, one of the best--you were hardly ever in close-quarters combat. You knew the basics, but hardly ever used them or practiced. One bounty got too close for comfort, and you sported a new scar on your arm because of it. After it healed, you asked Paz to practice with you, maybe teach you some new maneuvers.

And to teach you, the big Mandalorian challenged you to take him down. You couldn’t knock him off his feet, he easily weighed over 300 pounds with his armor on. Trying to get him to move was like barreling into a tree. The best you could hope for was to outmatch him in speed, and not let him pick you up.

You shook out your arms, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Paz had taken his beskar off--save for the helmet--so he was only in his padded armor and you wouldn’t break your knuckles throwing punches. He cocked his head, and you knew he had a smug smirk on his face, waiting for you to launch yourself at him again. You moved.

You dodged the swipe he took at you, instead landing a hit of your own on his side. Paz was unfazed. He laughed, making another grab at you, which you danced back to avoid. The two of you circled each other--you, waiting for an opening; him, countering every movement. The next time you darted in for a swing, Paz grabbed your arm. He easily twisted you and had you pinned. You struggled against him knowing it would do you no good.

His hand settled at the base of your throat--not squeezing, just lightly resting there. You froze like a spooked tooka as a bright spark of pure arousal settled in your core. Oh, Maker…. He knew exactly what to do to have such an effect on you. Paz was so big--his hand was so big, dwarfing the delicate line of your neck. If he applied the slightest bit of pressure you would probably melt into the floor and then wither away from embarrassment. You wouldn’t be able to bear looking him in the face--visor? ever again. His thumb traced a light line over your collarbone. Heat flooded your face and you swallowed thickly.

“I win,” his rumbling voice murmured right by your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You steeled yourself, shaking off your feelings and stomping them out of your mind. “Again.” Then his arms tightened, drawing you back against his chest. Something thick and hard pressed against your lower back and you squirmed, pulling a groan from him.

Of course, sparring got him hard. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t work you up too.

“One more round,” you insisted. You ‘accidentally’ pushed your hips back against his erection as you squirmed out of his arms. Paz grunted, letting you go. You didn’t expect to win this round, even with his new distraction, but you didn’t want to. If you worked him up enough, maybe he’d snap. The thought of what he would do sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You readied your stance. Paz did not pull his punches, not that you expected him to anyway. This was a game to him. He did manage to surprise you, though. For as big as he was, he could be fast. You had just ducked out of his reach when you felt him grasp your hips, and then you found yourself on your stomach, fall cushioned by the blankets. His weight settled on the back of your thighs. You couldn’t even twist to try and throw him off balance--he had you pinned.

He slowly leaned down, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, caging you in. “Did you even try that time?” His fingers traced down your spine, then the warmth of his hand slid up under your shirt, teasing your skin. “Or did you just want this?” and he rolled his hips for emphasis, grinding himself against your ass and making you gasp.

When you didn’t answer, he chuckled. “Yeah. I thought so.”

His hands continued to skim up your sides, each touch building warmth in you. When you wriggled and whined, he paused. “D’you want this off, baby?” he asked with a light tug on your shirt.

“Please,” you breathed. Paz chuckled, then guided your shirt up and over your head. Your bindings followed shortly thereafter. He traced a finger down your spine, making you shudder. You tried to subtly press your thighs together to take the edge off, but from his seat on your legs, Paz felt your muscles tense. He tutted, rubbing his fingers over your clothed pussy, the barest hint of pressure making you all the more desperate.

His fingers hooked in the band of your pants and tugged lightly. His weight shifted off you and you lifted your hips to help him pull your pants and panties down, leaving you bare beneath him.

“Look at you,” he rumbled, palming your ass. “Pretty girl.” The gentle smack against your flesh made you gasp. You shifted your hips back against him, trying to entice him to move his touch to where you were wet and warm and dripping for him. Paz was a tease, but he was also not the most patient man. His fingers dipped down to your heat, rubbing light circles over your clit before pulling back to tease your entrance. Then he pulled away.

Your confused noise cut off as the warm glide of his tongue swiped through your folds from behind. A wanton moan left your mouth as your hips arched up, off the blankets piled on the floor, trying to grind back against his face. Paz’s big hands spread you apart, holding you open for him as he explored you with his tongue. Each lick, suck, and kiss was a warm wave of pleasure suffusing through you, building until you were squirming against his hold.

“Paz, Paz, please--” you choked out, teetering on the edge. He wouldn’t give you that last little push you needed to reach your high. You moaned, hips bucking against his hold, desperate for the final bit of stimulation your body craved. Paz held you steady, giving you pleasure as he saw fit.

“Cum on my mouth, pretty,” his voice, deep and gravelly and not filtered by the modulator, sent an extra spike of pleasure through you. His lips wrapped around your clit and he hummed, the little vibrations doing enough to coax you into orgasm. You weren’t bowled over by sensation as you sometimes were; instead, this orgasm was a slow, thick, rolling wave of heat spilling through you, spreading through your limbs and leaving you loose and boneless.

You just knew Paz had a self-satisfied smirk on his face seeing you blissed out and jelly-limbed on the floor of his ship. You hummed as his weight settled over the back of your thighs once more, the rough canvas of his pants dragging against your sensitive skin. He didn’t strip, instead opting to pull his cock from the confines of his clothing.

The thick length of Paz’s cock rested on the cleft of your ass. He groaned at the sight, your plush rear and the peek of your dripping pussy from between your thighs, his cock nestled between your cheeks, showing just how deep he would reach sheathed inside you. You tried wiggling your hips, enticing him to fuck you, but the steady weight of him on your thighs and his hands on your waist held you in place.

“This what you wanted? You didn’t wanna train--y’wanted to get fucked,” he punctuated his words with a thrust, grinding his cock against you.

“Yes, yes, fuck me--please, Paz, want you--” you babbled, hands fisting in the blankets beneath you. You rocked your hips against him. Paz’s breathing stuttered, and then he was spreading you open to watch as he sank his thick cock into your wet heat.

The press of the head of his cock had you gasping into the blankets, and then as he buried himself inch-by-inch, you couldn’t stop the little moans and whines that left you. You tried to relax your muscles, taking as much of him as you could, but your cunt spasmed around the intrusion. He grunted behind you, feeling your walls flutter around him as they stretched to accommodate his length. When his hips touched your ass, you shuddered, stuffed to your limit, the ache turning into a pleasant warmth licking at your core.

Paz rocked his hips slowly, only sliding an inch or so out before thrusting back in, and you clawed at the floor. You lifted your hips to the best of your ability, pushing yourself back against each thrust. He started slow--every time was like the first time, you were so tight around him, especially in this position. He didn’t want to hurt you--not in a way you didn’t ask for.

He squeezed your ass, massaging your hips and tugging you flush against him. He stopped moving, holding himself still while encouraging you to roll your hips against him. "That's it, baby, fuck yourself on my cock,” his voice was rough and dark, sending shivers through you. You whined, driving yourself back harder, desperate for more stimulation. You squeaked, trailing off into a moan as his hand cracked against the plump flesh of your ass. “You want more? Needy thing.”

He fucked you, and when Paz fucks, you’re gonna feel it for days. His hips pounded down into yours, each thrust sheathing his cock deep in your core and driving against that spot inside you that made you clench around him. Raw pleasure shot through you like unrefined electricity, burning bright along every nerve. Your toes curled in the blankets beneath you. The muffled sound of his clothed pelvis meeting your bare skin, mixed with the wet noise of your arousal, filled the ship. Each brutal snap of his thrusts drove you closer and closer to the edge, breathless moans torn from deep in your chest. The walls of your cunt fluttered around him, strangling his cock.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty baby?” When you didn’t answer, one of his hands wrapped around your jaw, tilting your head back and forcing your back into an arch. The angle made him spear even deeper into you and you nearly squealed. “I asked you a question.”

“F-fuck, yes, please, please, please--”

He shoved his hand between your hip and the floor, wrapping around your front so his big fingers could rub circles over your clit while he continued to fuck into you. He pressed demandingly at your clit and your legs trembled while you grasped desperately at anything within your reach to ground yourself, unaware of how loud your moans had grown. The dam of your orgasm finally broke, and you soaked his cock and the blanket beneath you as you came. Devastating waves of pleasure rocked through you and you clenched helplessly around his cock as he fucked you through it, his fingers continuing to tease your clit and making you jerk in his hold.

The tight, hot clamp of your cunt around his length had Paz following shortly behind you. Half a dozen shallow but firm thrusts, and he came with a rumbling groan as he sheathed himself inside you.

You trembled beneath him, flushed and sweaty and so, so deliciously boneless from the intensity of your orgasm. Paz gently pulled out, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back. You whimpered at the loss of his warmth, the comforting weight of him on your body.

“Easy,” he murmured. “‘M right here.” He would have laid down beside you, except the floor wasn’t the most comfortable, even with the blankets he had thrown on it--so instead he maneuvered you into his arms and lifted you with ease before placing you in his bunk. He quickly stripped off his heavier clothes before crawling in next to you and wrapping you in his arms. You curled into his chest, legs resting on either side of his.

Tentatively, you rocked your hips, the slickness of your combined releases dripping from you easing your motion. Paz squeezed your thigh in question and in warning. You grinned devilishly up at him.

“One more round?”

#paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla #paz vizla #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #reader insert #no y/n

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kkusuka · 3 years

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Aoba Johsai <3

team matserlist ----main matserlist

(so it turns out there are some other members of Seijoh that we never really see so I'm just going to the main group.)

Poor manager-chan was bothered by Oikawa for a full week before you gave up and became the manager

You already had a pretty vague understanding of the team, hell you went to Seijoh everyone knew about the volleyball team

After being cornered by Oikawa for the fourth time you just couldn’t take it anymore and just agreed to the poor boys begging.

Everyone on the team knew and was pleasantly surprised when you came with him

And even more, surprised when you announced that you would be the new manager!

(the team knew about you from Oikawa's constant chatter about y/n from his math class, the one with the pretty face and sits two rows in front of him.)

And when they saw you they could tell why you were just so magnetic

All of them wanted to be around you at once

And you were actually a really good manager, so that was helpful

You listened to them, took really detailed notes, had great team spirit, and you make hella good break time snacks

So it was really no surprise when some of the younger boys formed some little puppy dog crushes on you

And the ever-observant captain immediately noticed and was willing to talk to them about it

This led to multiple team meetings where it was discovered that all of them at one point would have loved to have you be theirs

With this revelation, Oikawa realized that he was not the only one who liked you, but he was going to be the one that got you.

So at practice, he was all over you, putting arms around your shoulder when the two of you spoke, and the final straw was the subtle kiss on the cheek

Oikawa had started a war

A war that came to head at one of the team dinners you were generously hosting

You had to mention how the recent days all the boys were kind of tense, and they would take every opportunity to be all over you, not that you minded but it was odd.

And they just unloaded everything on you...like everything including how you wearing a big shirt and shorts was not the best outfit to an all-boys-- and you--get -together

And somehow that turned into you indirectly, somehow daring almost all of them, it's confusing but it makes all of you happy so it’s ok

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, it was a game day, of course, and some teams realize that they aren't going to win

And take a turn for the more vulgar route, mostly towards you

Just inappropriate comments across the court and makes everyone on your team lose their shit (for a lack of better terms)

This lead to two things: a win for Aoba Johsai, and a steamy rough fucking in the locker-room

Much to Oikawa's dismay: the younger boys start first, you don't want to tell them it’s because they prep you well and it easier to get rid of them first

Kunimi takes the opportunity to lay back and let you do most of the work. Much to the team's disbelief, it’s not entirely because he’s too lazy to do it himself; he likes watching you. You squeeze your eyes shut a lot, to which he loves to tell you to open them back up, if he was on top he would be too focused on moving to tell you that. And it means your boobs are bouncing right in his face too, he can't stop that one.

“Open ‘em, y/n, stop closing them”

“You can go faster, actually just go faster”

Kindaichi is actually always pretty hesitant, Kunimi is almost settled before he even has his hands on you. Two things can happen one easier than the other, the first is that he just tries to fit his dick in your already stuffed cunt. Or he’ll squeeze himself into your ass, which requires a bit more vocality from you to make sure he isn't hurting you. Then after some time he just reams whatever hole he’s in.

“Keep her steady-if you want to get off so bad move yourself” (they always argue)

“You-you feel so nice, I'm gonna fill you up”

After the first-years the only clear option is to let the second years have a turn, considering Kyotani is already on you before anyone can say different.

The team normally just lets Kyotani have his turn alone, he’s rather...aggressive- to say the least. He has a sort of ritual before staring, getting you on your back, missionary and he just attacks your thighs. The majority of the bite marks and hickeys come from him.

Then when he feels he’s left his mark, he flips you back onto your hands and knees and shoves himself into your dripping cunny. He's a big fan of hair-pulling and/or pushing your back until your stomach is on the floor but your ass is in the air, nonetheless speaking of the constant spanks.

(but he doesn't really talk all the much, mostly growls and lots of grunts)

When he finishes and finally lets you go, the other two second years take their turn.

Watari and Yahaba are significantly softer than the previous three, this time it's like an aftercare/ preparation for what's to come. Watari takes your mouth, telling you that any pace you want is fine and he’ll sit back. He’ll run your cheeks and give you soft mewls about how well you’re doing. Yahaba takes his chance to softly fuck your abused cunt, soft and slow strokes as he rubs little circles around your clit, making sure you cum.

“Just like that- oh you're so good”

“You’re doing so well honey, just a bit more, you can do it”

Then the real Armageddon begins.

Oikawa is on you in seconds, Iwaizumi following seconds behind.

Oikawa tries to stay on top but he only gets as far as marking up your neck before he’s pushed away. You both end up his chest, to your back, and your head falling over his shoulder as Iwaizumi takes his place. Oikawa-still marking up your neck enters your poor little hole and holds your legs open for Iwaizumi while rubbing your clit.

Hajime settles between your legs and maneuvers his penis around Oikawa you get himself in. He's the one who holds your hips and keeps you from jerking away, he’ll rub circles on your waist. And he’ll lean down taking one of your nipples in his mouth, then giving the same treatment to the other. Both of them are so in-sync it’s crazy. They also speak two different ways; Oikawa's praising moans compared to Iwaizumi degrading growls.

“You’re just a fucking cockwhore, you love this huh? You’re just a glorified cumdump and you love it”

“Oh, baby, you're squeezing me so well, and you sound so absolutely delicious.”

When the two of them let you go after cuddling you until you come back into reality, and they wouldn’t let you if not for Mattsun and Makki yelling about how they still have to go.

So when they get to you they waste no time, there is no foreplay everyone else has done for them. They are the most adventurous on the team, it seems like every time they have you they try something different. One time they both tried to fit in your ass, another they had you sit on Makkis face while Mattsun fucked your ass. But this time they seemed to settle for one in your pussy and the other in your ass.

Mattsun graciously took the place in your cunt, and he normally holds your ass open so Makki has a better view of your puckered hole. They always find a way to joke around like when Makki thrusts in he’ll jerk you into Mattsuns arms, then Mattsun thrusts back pushing you into Makki’s arms. They are also the meanest in retrospect. They jeer and make fun of you when you cry, they don't let you cum until they have to cum. But they never talk directly to you, they always have conversations with each other.

“Look Makki! Crying again? Really? We aren't doing anything bad, you’ll feel good in a minute if you stop feeling a baby.”

“You feel that Mattsun, should we let her cum, I don't think so she’s been bad, hasn't she? Well, maybe next time right!”

On the rare occasion, you immediately fall asleep after you wake up as they pamper you with food and bubble baths.

If not, you're carried around until you go to bed and waited for the next day. One time you even convinced them to go get food from a restaurant in an entirely different prefecture

It's a double reward- bomb sex and an entire team of boys waiting on your hand and foot. <3

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agent-cupcake · 3 years

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As a resident Claudefucker, I know am curious to know what our fave charming schemer is doing during this Mafia!AU. He'd look lovely in a suit.

~It was quite the headline when Godfrey Riegan died. The details are a little hazy, a little convenient, but people don't talk about that sort of thing. Car accidents are common. Tragic, but not unreasonable. There’s no reason to smear a man’s perfectly respectable political career for the sake of some sensational gossip.

~In the right circles, however, there was a huge uproar, questions about who was going to take over the Riegan family when the elderly boss Oswald died. The Riegan’s had been dominating Leicester for quite some time, but a lot of people began to predict that the Gloucester family was going to move in. They had powerful friends, it seemed. Friends with money, no less.

~Claude Riegan, grandson of Oswald, appeared out of nowhere just when he was needed. Stories of the lost daughter Tiana still circulated, sure, but there were still a lot of questions about Claude’s origins when nobody except Oswald were able to vouch for him. He obviously had military leadership experience—his skill with guns and ability to lead was just too excellent for any other explanation—but he dismissed the question out of hand. There’s no documentation of him, either, leading some to wonder if even his name was false. But Oswald said he was family, and that was that.

~Claude was quick to establish himself, in any case. Despite his cavalier attitude, his efficacy in overhauling the power dynamics of Leicester were profound.

~He decided, first and foremost, that the way to win the people over was to invigorate the local culture, which had seen a sharp decline as a result of new laws that were unfavorable to business, Adrestia’s growing market monopolies, and the bad reputation of the red light district Ailell. This included some perfectly legitimate campaigning and some under the table type schemes.

~The result was a flourishing Derdriu Street. While it lacks the prestige of Enbarr Square in Adrestia, it welcomes entertainment that would be considered too “low brow” like comedy, trendy new restaurants, and music venues. Even better, all of it is built on the recently cleaned up river. The Riegan family is involved in all of it, of course.

~Casino owner Claude. This exists solely to thirst but maybe it was preexisting and he took it over due to its poor management? If there’s going to be gambling anyway, it should be done right. The extra money’s not so bad, either. But, Claude lounging in a big leather chair in a dark blue blazer with gold brocade, his white shirt unbuttoned low enough to see enough his chest. Enough to make you drool. Enough that you’d definitely get caught staring and probably called out for it because he can’t help himself. Claude with his elbows on the arm rests and fingers folded in front of him as he considers you, gold rings winking because he’s just that ostentatious and appearances are important. Claude asking you how you feel about taking risks in a way that really feels like it has nothing to do with cards, staring at you with a friendly smile that doesn’t meet those calculating eyes—eyes that you know will pick up on every tell.

~Claude also struck a deal with the Kupala Distillery. They’d been fighting to keep hold of their historic business for years, and Claude offered to help them with that. You know, not for free, but he’s good at making deals that leave everybody happy.

~The second biggest thing he tackled was the drug trade. For the most part, no one family had ever had a complete handle on that market. The Goneril’s had a hold over the docks for years, but the Edmunds had been moving in and working with the Gloucester family to bolster their power. Distribution was scattered and hard to keep track of as it ultimately circulated wherever there was a profit to be made. Looking at it like this, Claude decided that the only way to fix things was to take control over all of it. In his line of work, shady things like the drug trade are impossible to avoid. At the very least, if he has control over it, he can ensure the product is clean and expel far more unsavory ventures.

~Through these escapades, Claude was able to make alliances with all of the major families. A lot of them had only remained loyal to the Gloucester family out of fear so as soon as they had an alternative, they bolted. This has an unfortunate side effect of revealing how his power is perceived. Every day is a balancing act for Claude. He allows each family to function as they please as long as they’re aware they do so at his mercy. It’s better to keep friends than to control enemies, but even that requires a delicate maneuvering of power.

~However, Claude likes the conflict. He enjoys the game and he especially enjoys winning the game. There’s a certain level of his excusing amorality for the sake of his family and Leicester, but there’s an equal part of him that understands his wrongdoings and deals with it separately. He wouldn’t hold to the naïve “ends justify the means” idea to excuse himself, but he would still argue that his actions have value and are even necessary. If it weren’t him, it would be somebody a lot worse than him. That’s probably something that would linger in the back of everybody’s minds whenever they shook his hand or paid their respects, whenever they began to think of how easy it would be to take him out. Fear, too. So far, Claude’s never done anything shockingly bad, only what was necessary. But with his power and intellect, it’s always a question of what he could do.

~If someone asked him that, Claude would smile that friendly smile and tell them that he would do anything to see his vision made real. Whether or not that’s true remains to be seen.

~Luckily, Claude’s not alone! Hilda is the stereotypical crime family princess. She joined Claude because he offered her freedom from the overbearing control of her father and brother. Her skill in manipulating everybody around her combined with her reputation as a ditzy rich girl makes her fantastic at gathering information, assuming Claude can get her to do so. But, as long as he’s not being too forceful, she’s surprisingly motivated to weave her way through social circles and charm everyone. Although she would never say it, the order he brought to Leicester, not to mention the entertainment, made everything a lot better for her and her family. Plus, she likes being useful after spending her entire life watching Holst give his heart and soul to family while she did nothing. Ultimately, the information she provides is essential and her relationship with Claude is one of the few either have that’s built on trust, respect, and loyalty. That said, sometimes even Claude gets a little shiver as he watches how easily Hilda can manipulate people.

~Lorenz was one of Claude’s most disdainful detractors, although a part of that was jealousy. Claude just swept in and did things that Lorenz had been waiting and planning to do once he became the head of the Gloucester family. Even after being on the receiving ends of such vicious attacks, once Claude undeniably had the upper hand in Leicester, he went behind the Gloucester boss’s back to Lorenz and told him that they were going to be friends or enemies, it was Lorenz’s choice. Not threatening him, just pointing out that the fall of the Gloucester family was inevitable under his father’s leadership and that Lorenz didn’t have to suffer for his father’s sins. Probably over mimosas and brunch. Lorenz is proud and has no appreciation for Claude, but he’s not stupid. After they worked out their disagreements and more or less accepted each other, Lorenz and Claude became pretty close. Claude knows that having someone to openly and aggressively disagree with him isn’t a bad thing. Not only that, but Lorenz’s a solid ally with a better grasp on some of the things Claude has difficulty with due to not being a native. Lorenz is willing to admit that Claude is a good leader.

~Marianne is well educated in the realm of the law and political action. The reason the Edmund family saw such success despite their lesser status was because of her adopted father’s genius. which he made sure to share with Marianne. She is invaluable in aiding Claude on the perfectly legitimate side of his business, and helping him hide his tracks for the shady stuff. Raphael is the muscle. Lysithea is a computer genius. Being a sickly shut in with issues that only recently saw treatment, she’s on the Mr. Robot level of hacker mode activated. Ignatz is an architect which is useful since so much of Claude’s power is in the property and infrastructure. He also designed a lot of places to have some neat-o hidey holes. Claude loves buildings that have secrets. Leonie is manages a lot of the physical and pettier side of the work. If someone’s stirring up trouble, she’s likely to pay them a visit as a warning before Claude has to get involved. She used to be a mercenary but being on Claude’s payroll is a lot better of a gig.

~As for the suits, one thing is very important. Claude would not, under any circumstances, wear something tight on his thighs. I actually kind of like the idea of him going for a 1980′s style modernized. In his post timeskip outfit, he’s already got a hint of that going on with how oversized his outfit looks. The 80′s (rightfully) gets a bad rep for fashion, but it’s also very iconic with those wide-collared suit jackets, matchy-matchy three piece suits, sportscoats with a fun patterned shirt underneath, open blazers, pleated pants with an oversized jacket, and—in particular—the trend of summer suits in shades of tan and cream with colored shirts underneath. Then, combine that with a pair of Ray-Ban Aviators and a topless convertible and you’ve got a distinctly recognizable mob boss who doubles as a devastating heartthrob. I’m not saying he’d do a 1:1 recreation, but you’d definitely see references to the fashion of the era in his outfits. He would wear oxfords or ankle boots. Whatever it was, they’d have to be comfortable. He also doesn’t shy away from jewelry. The earring, of course, and rings when he's feeling particularly decadent. When he’s wearing his shirts unbuttoned Claude could possibly wear a gold chain. I mean, what are you gonna say, no? That gold doesn’t look gorgeous against his skin? That it’s tacky? You’re talking to the man who wore quilted pants. Claude’s not afraid to stand out because he knows he will anyway, nor is he afraid to be seen as unfashionable because he doesn’t particularly care about trends. I also enjoy the idea of him emulating the 80′s as someone who didn’t grow up in a western culture and thus mainly saw things through the lens of movies. Whatever he wears, however, he would look very handsome.

#claude von riegan #fe claude #claude von riegan headcanons #fe claude headcanons #claude von riegan x reader #fe claude x reader #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #headcanons #did i put too much thought into this? yes #do i regret it? a little #but this has been festering in my mind

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undermattsun-archive · 3 years

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taste

(skate rat) kawanishi taichi x fem!reader | w.c 3.5k

a/n: SURPRISE it’s a sequel to mouth <3 my original skate rat sin i suppose, and also like my first real fic/drab for the fandom. god bless. as always thank u to @bakatenshii + @sugardaddykenma for putting up with me ranting about this fic (and also putting up with me since mouth)

big big thanku to #1 wife @pomsuki for reading this for me and yelling at me to finish this damn thing <3

18+ university age | pls read ALL warnings

warnings: drugs, public sex, dub/noncon exhibitionism, degredation, humiliation, dubcon, blood, slight injury (it’s a bloody nose), toxic behavior, misogynistic energy? vibes? you’ll know when u see it honestly

reading mouth isn’t necessary but it is appreciated! and pls check out melt + nightingale syndrome for they exist in the same skate rat universe (+ they’re delicious fics) also the people who wrote em r BIG SEXY

There were more than enough reasons to quit Kunimi Akira. He never texts back, he doesn’t go to class, he’s fucked a few of your friends and he couldn’t commit if you paid him. He was simply a waste of time, it was like every second spent with him was another mark ticked off a test, a percentile lowering on your next paper.

But chucking Kunimi would be like trying to sort grains of rice, difficult and damn near impossible. He always knew how to draw you back in and he enjoyed the mind games a lot more than his bored expression would let on.

Despite the impossibility of quitting him you had to at least try, so you swore up and down that hooking up with him at Oikawa’s party some odd months ago was truly the last of it, that you were done with him and all of his irritating skate rat friends.

Which begs the question of how you ended up at the little concrete amphitheater on campus, sandwiched between Hanamaki and Matsukawa on one of the steps, a blunt being passed between the two of them without so much as a second glance towards you.

“Say, when’s the last time you and Kunimi had fun?” Makki’s grin is nothing short of lascivious, a slimy feeling weighs on your tongue as you shrug off a shudder.

“Say, was that ever any of your business?” You retort, snatching the blunt from his lips bringing it to your own and inhaling deeply, revelling at the warmth creeping down your throat and filling your chest.

“Quit it Makki, she’s not gonna fuck you. Kunimi got her ‘round his little finger,” Mattsun coos, taking back the blunt, “besides, heard she’s a fuckin ice queen in the sack. Boooring.”

A sharp inhale keeps you grounded, the sound of Iwaizumi’s board slamming back down onto the pavement reminding you where you are, who you’re with. You’re not going to fall for Mattsun’s little games too.

“Tch.” Daggers prick at your lips, but you bite your tongue knowing that fueling the fire will earn you nothing but a headache. It’s not like you’re waiting for anything, or anyone, stealing a few more hits and leaving would be the best option.

“Oh? Nothing to say? But I heard your mouth was your only redeeming quality.” You focus your gaze on Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to stay out of his way, trying not to let your growing discomfort scare you away. The stubborn refusal of letting Mattsun’s words win only letting a dull ache grow at the base of your skull, prickling further when he and Makki let out low mocking laughs.

“Hey fucknuts!” Your head whips over to see a blur of crimson race by, followed gradually by a few other familiar faces you’ve seen around at parties and on campus.

“God, not these assholes.” Makki laughs as Oikawa makes faces at one of the newcomers. Your eyes drag across the unfolding scene as the number of rowdy idiots grows. You swallow hard, knowing that staying any longer would only cause your headache to further bloom.

“That’s my cue to leave.” You sigh, it’s not like you were waiting for Kunimi in the first place. You weren’t. You were just...killing time.

“Leaving?” Your head tips back to look up at the source of the question, Kawanishi Taichi, of course.

“Yeah, dunno why I’m here in the first place.” You brush off his quirked brow and shove Mattsun hard with your shoulder as you stand up. With a curt nod, you smooth a hand over your jeans, turning on your heel to brush past Kawanishi, ignoring the low whistle that falls from his lips. You make it a good distance down the walkway before the sound of crunching footsteps behind you prickles at your ears as you ready yourself to tell whoever it is to get lost.

“Want a ride?” You let out a huff as you look over your shoulder to see Kawanishi standing so nonchalantly, hands tucked into his pockets as he chews on a toothpick.

“Shouldn’t you be skating around with your little boyfriends?” The comment slips out, followed by your tongue sliding over your bottom lip as if it’ll soften the sharpness of your tone.

“Nah, just droppin 'em off,” his eyes rake up and down your figure as you turn to face him, “where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your little boyfriend. You were waiting there like a lost puppy for him.” A protest rises in your chest, curbing it when you see a flash of something akin to flirtatious teasing in his normally passive eyes.

“I... I don’t have one.” The words are slathered in honey, punctuated with a flutter of your lashes as Kawanishi takes another step forward.

If Kunimi likes playing all those stupid games, why not play a few of your own?

“Is that so?” His head tilts slightly, you feign shyness, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you smile sweetly at him, confirming your statement with a nod of your head. “My car’s just over in the parking lot.” He tips his head in the direction of the closest lot, before turning to start walking. Without hesitation you easily fall into step beside him, trying to dampen your rising nerves.

Despite the dumb little hookups peppering your dating history, you had only gone so far with most of them, Kunimi being one of the few —and the only one you crawled back to— that you had made the unfortunate pleasure of going all the way with. You keep pushing away at the thoughts of inexperience as Kawanishi approaches an old, beat up, black Corolla, the paint flaking off with dings and dents littering across the body, the impeccably shiny rims on the wheels making you snort.

It was a rather famous car across campus, seeing it around with stupid skate rats crammed in there with the windows fogged with smoke was an almost daily occurrence, especially highlighted by how it’s tied to one too many stories of girls having varying encounters with Kawanishi –and sometimes one of his friends– in said car.

“Wanna smoke or skip to the real fun?” He never minced any words, always up front or just completely skipping out on the conversation. It always made him the best project partner in the odd classes you’ve shared over your uni years.

“I don’t like waiting.” The fuzziness nipping at your spine from the few hits you took earlier were just enough, not wanting to dull your senses completely during this encounter. The bluntness of your answer causes a smirk to play at Kawanishi’s lips as he opens the door to the back.

“Well then, ladies first.” He gestures to the gray cloth seats, you make a point to ignore the questionable stains littered across it as you slide in, trying to focus instead on figuring out the heady scent permeating through the car. Cheap cologne, cigarettes, weed and maybe stale beer, and something that was distinctly him.

Your eyes are drawn to a stain on the roof that looks oddly similar to an eagle, the thought unfinished as Kawanishi practically dives in after you. The sound of the door slamming preempting hands roaming over your body and lips moving against your neck.

“Kawa-”

“Just Taichi.” He clips as he works the buttons of your jeans, a coarse hand working against your spine as he unhooks your bra.

“Eager much?” You laugh as he pushes at your shirt and bra exposing pert nipples to cool air, simultaneously managing to work your jeans past your hips and down your thighs.

“You said no waiting.” With a chaste kiss to your lips he’s maneuvering you onto your stomach, raising your hips in the air, face shoved halfway between the seat and door. You let out a huff as your hand braces itself against the door, while the other on the seat below you, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cramped setting.

“Mhm.” It’s the best reply you can manage as he grinds his clothed cock against the cleft of your ass, already hard. You can only imagine how many women he’s had in this situation to award all six feet and three inches of himself the ability to move so successfully around in the cramped backseat.

Nimble and worn fingers circle around your hip, dipping down to tease at dampening lace, eliciting a soft moan from you. You push back against him, delighting in the soft grunt he lets out as he curls himself over you to scrape his teeth over your nape. His fingers continue to run up and down against your clothed cunt, pressing at the growing slick spot marking your wanting hole.

“Excited huh?” He mumbles as he skims his tongue against the shell of your ear, you manage a low hum in reply as he slides his hands back up, tugging down the flimsy piece of clothing, exposing your needy cunt to hungry eyes. He wastes no time pressing his fingers against your twitching hole, causing you to wiggle your hips just enough to earn a low chuckle and send the message of just how much you want him, need him.

Without any further hesitation he slips in a finger, your back arching with the realization his fingers are longer than Kunimi’s, chest burning at the fact you could even think of another man in this situation. As if he can sense your wandering thoughts Taichi works in another finger, another following quickly after. There’s no urgency in his movements, each twist and thrust of his fingers methodical, curling in just the right way, making sure to brush his thumb over your throbbing clit to send a stinging pleasure up your spine.

You can’t deny the way he’s taking you apart so sweetly, the tightening deep in your belly achingly sweet, as he starts to thrust his fingers even deeper, tiny gasps and whines starting to grow louder and louder as you careen towards bliss. With a particularly rough curl of his fingers you feel yourself come undone completely, punctuated by a shameless moan.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the fogged glass pulls you out of your blissful haze, still acutely aware of the way Taichi has his fingers lazily twisting inside of you.

“It’s open.” He tugs you back by the hips slightly as he retracts his fingers painfully slow, listening as he unzips his jeans. Your heart races as the passenger door opens, shifting uncomfortably to try to catch a glimpse of who’s slid into the car.

“Oh, so that’s where you went, Mattsun said you were hanging around.” Your blood runs cold, your state of undress tightening your chest as you become painfully aware of the situation you’re in. The passive tone of Kunimi’s voice nips at your skin, tears away at the search of mindless fun that you had tried to pursue with Taichi, filling your chest with raw embarrassment.

“What do you want?” The tear of a wrapper following the question, whatever protest you had silenced by a hand coming down to grip harshly at your ass.

“You have my grinder.” Kunimi slips into the passenger seat, the sound of the glove box popping open making your eyes squeeze shut.

“Yeah well close the door at least.” Your eyes widen at Taichi’s statement, you didn’t want Kunimi to just close the door, you wanted him to leave.

“Whatever. Can I smoke in here?” It doesn’t sound like much of a question, more of a declaration with the ‘can’ and the question mark tacked on for decoration.

“I don’t care, do you?” You crane your head just enough to catch the blasé expression on Taichi’s face, a quirked brow directed more at your ass than you.

“Yeah sweetheart, care if I’m in here while you’re whoring yourself out?” Kunimi scoffs, the irritated tinge to his bored tone making you furrow your brows.

“Oh fuck you.” You start to rise on your elbows, only for Taichi’s hand to land between your shoulder blades, keeping you from moving any further. You let out a huff as Kunimi clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Sorry babe, it’s me who’s fucking you this time around, maybe Kunimi can get the next round.” Before you can even bother with a retort, Taichi drags the head of his cock against slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You let your head hang down, the click of a lighter grating on your nerves more than you would like to admit.

“Please, fuck me, I want it so bad.” The whininess of your voice annoys even you, but if Kunimi wants to stick around and get on your nerves, then two could play that game.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Just like before he slides in slowly, carefully, as if to make you memorize what each inch of him feels like splitting you apart so sweetly.

“Shit.” You exhale shakily as you try to adjust to him, it had been months since you last fucked anyone, since you last fucked the asshole sitting passenger.

He sets a leisurely pace, steady and infuriating. There’s a hand clamped down on your hip, fingers digging in painfully to keep you in place, to establish that he’s the one calling all the shots. You huff, still trying to buck your hips to meet his thrusts. There’s something in his actions that makes you feel greedy, desperate for so much more than he’s offering.

There’s no way around it, you’re completely at his mercy, left taking the shallow, slow thrusts that only makes the desperate ache deep in your cunt grow.

“Hook a finger or two in her mouth.” There’s a pause in Taichi’s motions, letting you finally take a deep breath of the thick weed laced air. “Don’t look at me funny, do it and see what happens.”

You hear a non-committal hum as those devilishly nimble fingers skim past your jaw, a whimper preceding his index pushing past your lips with a harsh tug at the corner of your mouth, the painful stretch of your cheek causing you to clench down on his length.

“Oh? You were right.”

“She’s already broken in,” Kunimi takes a long drag of the joint hanging in his fingers, “no point in holding back.”

It’s as if a flip is switched in Taichi, the statement becoming an immediate challenge as he hooks in another finger beside the other, yanking harshly as the snap of his hips becomes almost painful. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, swirling with the heady smoke defiling the air.

“W-Wait Taichi.” The words are garbled around his fingers, and you’re quickly dismissed as he snakes around his other hand to hook his middle and index on the other corner of your mouth, the stretch in your lips burning as he shifts from the quick paced thrusts to deep, hard strokes.

His only reply is to tug harshly on your mouth as pathetic whines and distored words spill from you.

You can feel yourself start to shake almost violently, still reeling from your earlier orgasm and suffering at the hands of Taichi’s now vicious pace. Each thrust pushing you into madness, each tug of his fingers bringing you back.

“Fuck, fuck.” He curls over you again, sloppily running his tongue up your nape. “You wanna cum?”

“Mhmm,” you yelp at a particularly rough slam of his hips, “please.”

He grunts, moving a hand to grip at the back of your head while keeping his other hand planted on your hip, fingers biting into your hip. There’s no warning as he grinds into you, the hold on your hip finally relenting as he slides his digits back down to pinch at your throbbing clit, the bit of pressure sending you careening over the edge.

“T-Taichi.” Pleasure wracks through your body, your legs tremble violently as you try to move your hand on the door, shoulder aching from holding yourself in place. The second your hand moves, you give into the force of Taichi’s hand on the back of your head, forcing you to slam face first into the door, the impact making your nose sting, blood immediately starting to gush, running down your face and chin.

You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he continues his assault, the once careful, methodical thrusts turning desperate and depraved as he moves with reckless abandon. His teeth drag across your shoulder, before pulling out completely.

“Don’t need this.” You grip at your nose, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of blood seeping onto your fingers, looking over your shoulder again to see Taichi pull off the condom. You can’t even protest with the way you’re bleeding profusely, pinching at your bridge at a poor attempt of stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still.” In one swift movement he’s plunging back into you, bottoming out immediately, a muffled yell falls from your lips, arching your back as he drives into you with just a few more hard thrusts you feel his seed spill inside you.

For a moment you two stay suspended, the head of his cock nudging against your cervix, making you groan in a twisted sense of pleasure of pain. He pulls out painfully slow, delivering another harsh slap your ass as he sits back.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout your nose.” He helps you flip onto your back, swiping his thumb over the blood trickling onto your lip before shucking off his t-shirt and handing it to you. “Don’t have any tissues.”

“So who’d you like playing fuck toy for better?” For a split second, somewhere between the back breaking orgasm and your nose being slammed into the door, you had blissfully forgotten that Kunimi was still in the car, but now that perfect illusion just had to be shattered.

“Must you be such a dick all the time?” You manage to pull your jeans back up, hissing at the stinging pain in your hips and lower back, ignoring the lewd feeling of Taichi’s cum starting to leak from your abused cunt.

Beside you Taichi manages to tuck himself back into his pants, reaching under the driver's seat to yank out a hoodie reeking of weed and cigarettes.

“Maybe you two should just get together already.” Taichi lets out a low chuckle as he pulls on the hoodie, getting out of the backseat, slamming the door hard before throwing the driver’s door open. You don’t even bother trying to hook your bra back on as you pull your shirt down, letting yourself slump back down and lay across the backseat as you reach up to check if your nose is still bleeding.

“Like hell.” Kunimi twists around in the passenger seat, looking down at you with an amused smirk, offering the freshly rolled joint to you. “You look like shit. I said she was broken in, not to break her more.” He only gets a wry laugh from Taichi as he starts the car.

“Thanks, right back at you.” You sit up just enough, looking at Kunimi expectantly. He shakes his head before twisting the joint in his fingers and placing it between your lips, producing the lighter. Just as he’s about to hand it to you he brings his hand back a bit, grabbing your jaw with his other as he lights the joint. He picks up Taichi’s bloodied shirt, pouring water from a twisted plastic bottle onto it before passing it back to you.

“Cute, blew her back out and you’re doting on her.” You watch as Kunimi moves to sit back in his seat, not even bothering to spare you a second glance as he shrugs. You dab away at the drying blood on your face, ignoring a few of the splotches that landed on the joint.

“Guess I play favorites, drop us off at my place.”

“Us?” You exhale after a long drag, narrowing your eyes at the back of Kunimi’s head as Taichi pulls out of the parking spot.

“What do I even get out of doing that?” You can’t help but nod in agreement of Taichi’s statement, feeling yourself growing annoyed at the way they seem to ignore your entire presence.

“You can fuck her again.” Kunimi offers and you almost drop the joint as your jaw falls open at the absolute nerve of the man.

“Excuse me? I’m right here?” The way that neither of them even flinch at your statement, let alone acknowledge it makes you slump back into the seat, begrudgingly accepting the fact whatever you say isn’t worth shit to either of them.

“Hm.” It doesn’t sound like he’s actually considering the offer, but the quick look over his shoulder as he turns out of the parking lot sends a chill down your spine and your stomach to twist.

“Believe it or not, her mouth’s her one redeeming quality.” The two of them snicker, like two old pals sharing an inside joke.

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re brushed off once again as they toss back a few more comments before Taichi stops at a red light, looking over at Kunimi, then back at you and finally back towards the road.

“Yeah alright.”

508 notes · View notes

barzzal · 3 years

Text

take me as i am

summary: like he always does, sidney picks you up after work. the only thing he didn’t expect was to see you kissing one of your workmates. the one he’s been jealous of, to be exact.

↳ pairing: sidney crosby x you

↳ warnings: jealousy, make up sex, and the whole narrative of sidney learning you love him for the first time, minors dni*

↳ genre: angst if you squint, fluff, smut, pre-established relationship (you’re not there yet but almost), +18

↳ length: imagine; 5.9k

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: skin, drunk on love by rihanna

note: this fic has been in my drafts for a while and i’m just happy i get to share it with y’all now! a lil nervous putting this out but as always, feedbacks are very much appreciated! <3

Sidney has never gripped a steering wheel so hard in his life not until he spent the entirety of waiting outside the café of your building, watching the innocent touches and laughs you share with a colleague that he has been secretly observing every time he comes and picks you up after work or your usual work brunches such as this.

You hadn’t been dating officially which is basically the reason behind why he didn’t want his petty issues out in the open. But Sidney has got to admit that even though the obvious age gap between the two of you didn’t bother him, the sight of you hanging out with guys your age– someone who could potentially connect with you in levels he knew he never could, scares the shit out of him.

So, when he sees you give that guy a kiss goodbye and a smile that he knows he only brings out of you, that’s when he lost it.

As soon as you get out of the café, you immediately see Sidney’s car parked at the usual spot he takes. His car was fairly tinted so he makes it a point to come out and greet you with a quick kiss before opening the door for you. However, this time, (the first time for the matter) instead of Sidney’s well built arms, what welcomed you were the car’s flashing lights beaming your way, signaling you to walk over where he was.

You didn’t mind, thinking that he must’ve been just tired from practice. Once you’ve snuck in the car and got settled, you turn to Sidney who was already turning the engine on without even bothering to give you the one thing he’s never failed to do ever since you two started going out. Kisses.

“Hey, babe.” You greet him, hand already massaging his nape as you lean in to plant a small kiss on his cheek. When you feel his jaw clenched, that’s when you knew something was definitely wrong. With furrowed brows, you were utterly bemused at his strange behavior.

“What’s with you?” You ask him, hand still placed on his nape, now running your thumb on top of it endearingly to ease out the stress you thought he was under. Sidney didn’t bother answering and instead turned his eyes onto the rear view mirror, finally pulling off the parking spot and into the main road.

He mumbles something which you didn’t quite hear. “What?”

Sidney only shakes his head, dismissing the attention you have been giving him. “Nothing.”

You decide not to push him further so you just took your hands away from him and closed your arms. You look outside the window, watching the normal busy day of the city rush before your eyes.

It’s safe to say that you and Sidney spent the whole ride sitting in an uncomfortable silence. You try and steal a couple of glances, evidently clueless as to what caused his sudden change of demeanor. You were sure the two of you were fine because you had woken up real good this morning and even shared a steamy shower before heading for work. You sat the remainder of the car ride listening to Sidney’s heavy sighs that comes every time he stops at the traffic light.

“Baby, come on. What’s wrong?” You ask him. This time, fueled with the desire of learning what could have possibly upset him.

“Nothing.” He repeats only now with his voice distant and inattentive as his eyes were still pinned hard on the road.

Your gaze tread onto his veiny hand holding on the steering wheel. His brief movements whilst he maneuvers it, and his Rolex shining under the golden sun, were more than enough to send your mind miles away from where you are. You clear your voice, practically turned on by the man who’s busily ignoring you, “When you’ve done nothing but ignore me, it’s definitely not nothing.”

Sidney is a fairly quiet man. A man that’s secured and guarded. A man that thinks about how he should react to certain situations. A man with certainty— a man that knows what he wants. That’s at least what you’ve learned from going out with him for almost a year. Sure, you haven’t had the talk about making things official after said given time, but you absolutely see yourself committing not just to him but more importantly to the relationship you have been able to build with him.

You were still working your way with having a full grasp of his sudden mood changes although this time, you just know it’s different. You see, Sidney may not be that talkative compared to his teammates but he still treated you differently. He moved around you differently. Perhaps, it’s even safe to say that the only time he gets to be himself is whenever he’s with you. His connection with you was just undeniably surreal that he’s even certain himself that he has never been this comfortable and so at home with someone who was probably still cruising through life when he got drafted in the NHL; let alone, connect with her on so many levels that no one, not even a shit ton of girls from his dating track ever did.

However, given said time, and possibly even the age difference, Sidney does tend to get all dominant towards you that it even intimidates you at one point. That being said, that intimidation would later on ignite a fight that’s usually composed of blank stares, cold shrugs and treatments as the two of you ignore each other for the rest of the day.

“Hon, come on. Tell me what’s wrong. Please?” You ask for the hundredth time as you tugged on the hem of the sleeves of his shirt.

You keep persuading Sid to tell you what has been bothering him that it finally got into his nerves, resulting in him involuntarily snapping at you with the sudden rise in his voice.

“Stop it, y/n! I said it’s nothing. I’m tired. I just want to go home.” He finally breaks, causing you to take your hands off of him in an instant as if his words burn your skin.

Lo and behold, “Alright. Fine.” were two words that rang in his ears all the way home. You did what you’re told and shut up and ignored him the whole time. You would often see him taking glances in the corner of your eye but your ego was far too stepped on to even care. You did care. He was just too much of a prick to acknowledge it. Now that he’s made his bed, he can lie on it as long as he pleases.

Much to his realization, he immediately regretted having to raise his voice. He didn’t mean to, of course. It’s just that the image of you and the guy you’re working with was the only thing running in his mind all throughout the car ride. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you because who was he to begin with?

He didn’t have the right to tell you these things because he wasn’t exactly in the place to do so. He would never order you to quit seeing that man nor will he ever ask for more than what you can give. He just hated himself for feeling insecure and quite possibly terrified of the idea that he’d eventually lose you to a man that’s far better than him. However, out of all scenarios playing in his head endlessly, you realizing that you’re better off without him was what scared him the most.

As soon as he pulls over the driveway, you get out of the car without uttering a single word. A thing that Sidney knew will cause him another night of sharing a cold bed with you.

𖥸

Sidney follows you into his home and watches as you head towards the stairs. The cold dead air settles quickly between the two of you whilst you continue to ignore him completely. Sidney frustratingly sighs and tosses his keys onto the accent table. He ran his hand through his hair as he followed after your steps, knowing full well that he was clearly the one in the wrong.

He sees you sitting at the end of the bed whilst you take off your red pumps. “I’m sorry.” he says at once, voice still soft amidst the fact that he was still testing the waters.

Without an ounce of thought, you stood and walked over his closet to get rid of your work clothes, sparing not an ounce of attention for the man. As you walk further his huge closet, you hear the sliding doors glide all the way as Sidney follows after your track.

“Baby…” He coos, the familiar tone in his voice that was missing a while ago now hits every nerve in your body. Although, despite feeling the same effect he’s always had on you, you still manage to let out a wild scoff while you start removing your white button down shirt in front of the mirror that stretched all the way to the ceiling, revealing nothing but your black laces that held your breasts underneath. A mundane sight that’s always left Sidney’s throat high and dry.

“Oh, so now I’m baby?” You snarked, eyes darting on him through the giant mirror.

Sidney didn’t break off contact as he approached you but once he did, your skin was the first thing his hands found the moment he wrapped his arms around your waist before you could even protest. He then plants a small kiss on your shoulder before he rests his chin on top of it.

The biggest mistake you’ve made however, was to turn your gaze on his apologetic eyes because not only did it make your heart beat faster, but it also made you realize that you can never win with this man. You were done for for good.

Besides the sight put forth exclusively for him, you brush your hand on his skin, making up for the time you’ve spent ignoring each other.

“I’m sorry.” He concedes with a pout and the little voice he makes when he’s done arguing with you; enough to make you let out a quiet laugh whilst the two of you rest in each other’s arms. You just roll your eyes and bite back a smile. A thing that lets Sid know he got through the fight even if it barely was one.

“Why were you having a fit anyway? Rough day?” Your hand finds his cheek to caress it while Sidney presses feather light kisses on your now exposed skin.

“No. I’m just– tired.” He lies again, losing count on how much he’s told you that he was just tired. Or that it was nothing worth worrying about. But he should’ve known better. You weren’t that gullible to believe it. So, you just arch your brows and watch him stifle a tight smile upon having caught on his lie.

“Come on, tell me.” You persuade him.

“I saw you with that guy earlier.” He starts, treading his way lightly on what’s been bothering him. His voice leaves vibration on your skin as he speaks.

You hum and asked, “Who? Mike?”

Great. He even has my back up name. He thinks but only resorts to nodding his head, admittedly enjoying how your hand brushes on his muscular arms, making it difficult for him to argue his case.

“What about him?”

“I saw you kiss him—” were just the words you needed to hear to understand the whole point being Sidney was a big jealous man himself. “You’re jealous.” You confirm with a smug smile on your face. Now having a full understanding of his unusual quietude.

“Honey, there’s nothing to be jealous about.” You guarantee him. You then turn your back and face him. You put your arms around his neck whilst his arms fitted well as it embraced your middle. You plant a small kiss on the tip of his nose, sending heaps of the same immeasurable feeling through his system.

Sidney lets go of a sigh. Amidst his knowledge, and frankly, even the certainty of you not breaking his trust, he had nothing just as much as the guy you’re working with. The only difference, however little, was that he’s the one who’s able to take you home. Other than that, he wasn’t really sure if you were feeling the same thing as him. Or if you’d even reciprocate what he’s been trying to tell you.

Despite that, you know best that Sidney was a clueless man and was frequently teased by his constant miss on the more important things. (Other than getting that puck inside the net.) That being said, you were just as scared as him when it comes to dealing with where your relationship with him was headed. Or if it was even headed somewhere.

“I know you would never do anything and I trust you. It’s just that– I can’t help it. It bothers me.” He confesses. The man of the ice that everyone has looked up to crumbles before your eyes— and all that because you kissed a friend goodbye.

You giggle at the sight of a jealous Crosby unravelling before you. You wrap him in your arms whilst he buries his face on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, savoring it as much as he could.

“You’re so cute.” You tell him the moment you break off the hug. A wide smile printed on his now reddened face, quite smitten and shy to be put under your gaze.

As you inevitably drown in his scent whilst he cages you in his embrace, the next words slipped off your tongue as fast as it recoils your way the moment you heard it yourself. “You know I love you, right?”

To say that you were nervous was an understatement. Horrified would not even suffice what you felt the moment your eyes locked with Sidney’s. His dark round irises looked through yours as if he knew what’s going on inside your head. If only you could move past this and save it for another fight, but you know you couldn’t. Not when his arms were still wrapped around your middle. Thus, for lack of a better term: you’re screwed.

You were frozen to your feet at your sudden profession. Sidney, albeit having dreamt of this moment, was just as startled as you, feeling his throat dry whilst he tries to utter the right words. Both of your rapid and yet seemingly still breathing serves as the only constant exchange between your bodies.

Finally, Sidney gathers himself and speaks, “Now I do.”

Before you could even break a smile, Sidney’s lips was what welcomed yours in an instant. The urgency and desire overflowing with every move his lips make as if to drown you deep in the pool of his voracious thirst, letting you know that what you had just told him is exactly what he’s been feeling towards you. Perhaps, even more.

“You love me.” He breathes, both your teeth clashing just as you both gasp for air, perceptibly choosing to deluge yourselves in each other’s kisses than to take even just a second to catch your breaths. You take all might you still have left and nod your head, you’re hasty at how his kisses felt more than enough to tell you he felt just the same.

Once you caught up with his pace, Sidney finds support by pinning you up against the giant mirror. His hands, roaming on the hem of your skirt before pulling it up just above the middle of your thigh. His hand then moves to your back, pushing his body closer to yours. He breaks away from your lips just so he could make his way onto your jawline and down to your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses in every corner he could get into.

Without a word, Sidney takes you in his arms, busying himself with your lips yet again. Your arms wrap around his nape just as he makes his way towards the king sized bed.

Once the bed is beneath the two of you, he carefully lays you down, letting his physique tower all over your body. The sight of your half-nakedness burns before his eyes— sending shivers on his skin, the fervent wanting to have you all out for him and him alone circles his now empty mind. Empty, being that there was nothing else cruising it other than the thought of having you take him through and through.

You watch him take off the shirt that mirrored the color of his irises, revealing his strong athletic built. Your eyes travelled from his flushed torso, down to his well-sculpted abs, before finally settling onto the thickness of his jeans that was hindering you from seeing his bulging member. Sidney lets you take him all in, his eyes grim and filled with lust once it meets yours. Not long after, clearly not needing to mutter any word, he dives on top of you, claiming your lips as if to seal a dance that ought to fuel the burning desire kindling in your veins with every touch he floors you with.

You have gotten used to how Sidney takes you in the bedroom. Slow and steady at first, clearly holding himself back from all unimaginable pains and pleasures you know he would take no second guesses inflicting on you. This time, however, the only thing he wanted was to give you all that he has to offer. You two have always connected in ways more than just for the sake of satisfying each other in the bedroom. Or occasionally, in the passenger seat. Nonetheless, every kiss and every touch he leaves you with wasn’t meant to send you such insinuations. This time, what Sidney wanted from you was to be his alone. All for him— just like what you have told him.

You know I love you, right?

The two of you gasp for air, evidently aroused by your deep desire to claim each other. Sidney’s fingers found your neck as his lips sought resort on your clavicle, leaving marks all over your skin just as his free hand went to unclasp your bra.

Once your breasts are out of the only material covering it, Sidney assures no second is spared as he takes one bud into his mouth, letting himself feel your muffled moans through the vibration on your neck, resulting in him tightening his grasped onto it just before letting go so his hand could tend to your other bosom.

His kisses then moved to the center of your body, enough to make you arch your back for him, meeting him in between whilst his hand got busy with discarding all the remaining material that has irkingly caged the part of you he certainly needed most. Sid’s hands grazed every line, every curve, and every inch of your nakedness.

You feel the firmness of his skin graze from where your neck meets your shoulder, to the skin parting your breasts, down to your stomach before stopping onto the hem of the last undergarment you were wearing. You watch him savour the sight of your black work underwear, the undeniable truth of Sidney wanting to rip it all off exuding off his demeanor. Nonetheless, he stopped himself, trying to sustain his breathing and keep his mind straight.

“Sid…” You moan under his touches.

As an effort to make things easier for Crosby, you part your legs voluntarily, giving him all access to the thin fabric covering your now throbbing core. And just like that, once he sees your moistness through your laces, a muffled groan escapes his lips, making him grip onto your thigh all the more tighter than he already did.

Sidney throws himself on top of you just so he could kiss you once more. His lips moving slowly as he stops to take the sheer material of your panties in his mouth, getting a whiff of your now damped sex whilst his eyes were pinned on yours, savouring how you sheepishly return his gaze; visibly still shy to be put under his sole attention. Despite that, you watched him strip the clothing off. You lightly push your back upwards so he could get it under the curve of your ass before he finally succeeds in letting it slide down your smooth skin, the material falling onto the floor like the rest of your clothes.

Full, wet kisses was what welcomed your body next. It was gentle— yet firm as Sidney presses his lips onto your thigh, his hand lightly grazing the other in an upward motion. Your hand finds Sidney’s hair once he’s knelt in his desired position. He feels you tugging his head onto your center, silently pleading what you have been wanting him to do the moment he laid a hand on you.

He hushes at his needy pup, “We have all night, my love.”

Sidney returns his attention back to your inner thigh with a smug grin. He makes sure to place whole kisses to every corner but your core, leaving you wanting, aching and more.

His breathing didn’t do much help either. It made the yearning much worse as Sidney’s touch becomes so addicting that you find yourself fighting for more than what he could give.

Thankfully, Sid finally obliged.

He takes pleasure in getting a whiff of your scent. Overwhelming his senses, sending jolts of adrenaline up his spine. He wanted to take you right then and there. Only taking you whole wasn’t the only thing he had in mind. He wanted to own you— mark you. Even if it meant having to do it all night so no one else would be worthy enough to even dare to share a bed with you.

One single stroke sent you to madness. The tip of Sidney’s nose, already doing wonders you’ve never once imagined. “Sid, please.” You beg in a muffled whimper. To which he only reciprocated with pressing his lips on top of your slit, humming. Not long after he takes his tongue out and lets himself taste your wetness.

Your fingers weave through his midnight colored hair, pulling him closer as he stuck his tongue inside you, the humming he occasionally makes sends overwhelming pleasure through your walls. As your endless moans and whimper covered the room sinfully, Sidney pushed his fingers inside your center. Letting himself bask in your warmth, curling it so he could finally fuck you while he endowed himself with the treat that is: eating your cunt.

As you mount your high by grinding your hips against Sidney’s lips, his name was the constant thing you utter— almost as if it was a prayer for the gods responsible for having such a man kneel down before you; taking all you could give him with every mouthful of liquid dripping out from your now tightening and pulsating sex.

You were close to your high upon the continuity of Sid’s teasing strokes, switching from circling his tongue on your bud to the nibbling he does that surely floods you with ecstasy. Sidney knew you were close, so the only thing he did was to keep going, curling his fingers inside you as he keeps hitting the right spot over and over again— and once he feels your pussy throb in his mouth, he positions himself down on your opening just so he could take all of your juices, his arm wrapped around your hips to secure his wedged head in between your thighs, making you squirm and yell all the words you could even utter, your fingers sinking onto his duvet sheets.

Sidney takes his fingers out of your already spent pussy, fixated on watching your heaving chest, breasts spread out beautifully for him whilst you still drown in the bliss of meeting your high. He then takes both fingers into his mouth, sucking all that’s left of you on his skin, your distinct taste waking up the beast in him.

Sidney was eager to spend the night worshiping you. To give you the love and affection you deserved even when he still feels like he’s no good for you. All he wanted to do was to prove himself to you. Not just as someone who would gladly concede before your needs, but as someone who’s worthy enough to spend what remains of your waking days regardless of it being good or bad.

No matter the circumstances. No matter the highs and lows. Sidney wanted to be the one holding your hand through it all. He was ready, and willing to give it all up if that meant having a chance at a life spent with you. He wanted nothing else but you alone.

The odds must have taken his side for when Sidney looked into your eyes, he knew you wanted the same thing too.

Before Sidney could hover back on top of you, you were quick to pull yourself up which startled him for a bit, clueless as to why you were getting up not until he met the suggestive look on your face whilst you crawl your way towards the end of the bed.

Your hands find their way to the thick fabric of his jeans, teasingly creeping up to his belt buckle without breaking your gaze off of him. He doesn’t say a word and lets you do what you do best. He watches you work your way through, the sound of the cold metal on your hand echoes in your ears as it further builds up the anticipation of finally getting your hands on Sidney.

He helps you get his pants off and once it was on the floor with the rest of your clothes, his hands then take rest holding your hair, gathering it all in his fist whilst you busied yourself by stroking his far too hardened dick along with the pre-cum that’s already dripping on its tip.

Sidney’s flushed chest heaves the moment you take the head of his cock in your mouth; looking up at him as you continue teasing his end, licking off what remains of his pre-cum. You take time just like what he did a while back, ensuring that no part of him was left untouched by your lips— that his massive build will be taken by your mouth down to the very last inch.

“Fuck.” He groans, his grasp on your hair tightening as he pushes his length further into your throat.

Nothing but sloppy and wet noises of your mouth taking Sidney whole was what can be heard in the room. Every moan that slips off Sidney’s tongue makes you feel alive more than ever before. The muffled praises he gives you whilst he watches you devour him whole was all that ran in your head. The beads of sweat on his temple, the hoarseness of his voice, and the way his Adam's apple moves the closer he feels he is to coming signaled you to continue whatever it was you were doing not until seconds after you take his hardened balls into your mouth.

“Baby, no.” He didn’t want to but it is what he had to do. He pulled himself off of you when you started sucking on his balls. Your tongue was doing too much with the build up thickening in his region. He didn’t want to spoil the evening by cumming sooner that he intended. The night was still young and if he’d let you devour him all the way, he knew he only had seconds left before he fails in stopping himself from cumming all over your face.

You shot him a puzzled look and quickly rose to meet his eyes, “Why? Is there something wrong?”

He breathes, taking both his hands on your shoulder, steadying you under his softened gaze. “Nothing. It’s just- I don’t wanna cum yet.” He sheepishly admits, enough to make you bite a smile and rest your head on his chest.

You whisper an assuring “Okay.” and wrap your arms around his nape to lock him in another kiss. His rough hands grazed your naked body so beautifully. Tucking some of your hair at the back of your ear before travelling down the line your back as it finally takes rest on your butt, the other brushing on your nipple first before it goes down just below your breasts and your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Sidney tread to the corner of your lips as he lightly presses small kisses, working his way down from your jaw line onto the crook of your neck before finally settling down on sucking onto your clavicle. Once he breaks away, you both look deep into each other’s eyes, completely enthralled and enamoured to be in each other’s embrace, drowning in what seems to be the night you’ll never forget.

“I love you.” He professes, the words finally leaving his chest out for you to hear.

You always thought you’d smile when you hear it but you just didn’t. You were happy, sure. But for once, throughout the time you’ve spent in Sidney’s arms, whether in bed or not, you were so sure that none of the scenarios you’ve played in your head endlessly came off as right as caging him in your hold, sealing his words with a much needed passionate kiss. Pretty much like how he did when you’d told him the exact words you needed to hear moments ago back in his closet.

Sidney brushes his thumb on your cheeks and looks deep into your eyes once you break off, “What do you want me to do, y/n?” he asks, voice husk and yearning.

Without even giving it much thought, you chase Sidney’s lips and let out words enveloped with the same wanting and desire he had already been feeling from months on end, “Take me, Sid.” was the only thing you tell him. “I only want you.”

Sidney wasted no second and claimed you with his lips once again. This time, lustful and needy— like the kind of kiss that takes your mind off where you actually are but not so much as to let you fly far off his reach so he ensured keeping you close to his skin whilst the two of you basked in a much heated kiss.

His hands squeezed every inch of your skin he could find and with just one swift motion, Sidney props your legs around his waist as he finally takes you down the bed, allowing you to feel him in your middle, hard and heavy for your core.

“I’ll go get the rubber.” He says, aiming for the bedside table instantly but you lightly grabbed his nape and planted a kiss on top of his nose, “No, don’t. I want to feel you.”

“Are you sure?” He asks you, concern evident in his eyes. It’s not like you needed him to have it anyway. You were safe after having met with your gynecologist for an appointment a week ago. You give him an encouraging nod and smile, taking his lips as an answer.

Sidney gladly does what was asked of him and delivered. His mouth travels from your chin before nestlin’ down one of your buds just as his hands roamed your body before landing on your thigh, positioning himself in front of your entrance.

Sidney hovers back on top of you, meeting your lips yet again, finally thrusting inside you. Your walls overwhelming his senses in a snap as you choke his thick length, making the two of you gasp in between each other’s mouths.

“Sidney, please.” you beg underneath his weight. He pulls out just to push back slowly, easing himself through your tight walls. “Always so fucking tight for me, eh?”

He rests an arm just above your head the other entwined with your fingers, sinking both your bodies in his sheets once his thrusts progressed at a pace both your bodies exactly needed.

Your wails went in sync with Sidney’s antagonizing groans. Admittedly not helping you straighten your mind for it did nothing but worsen your hunger to have him. He rests his forehead on yours, sharing beads of sweat whilst he continues to pump himself through you. In and out, just like you need him to.

As he further himself inside you, hitting your end over and over again right on the very spot that only shows how much he knows you and your body and how you communicate with him without having to say a word other than your moans and his name leaving your lips as a curse.

Your fingers ran and dug on his back the closer you feel yourself reaching your own high. Your eyes swell with tears, overwhelmed with the feeling Sidney has been pouring you all night with. Letting his touches resonate within you, sending you a well-received message of how much you mean to him. Perhaps, more than you will ever know.

You were it. And for once in his life, after all the years he’s spent alone; nights spent with his arms wrapped around the wrong people, he finally found someone that was able to make him feel so much more than he thought he could ever do.

“I’m coming.” You breathed out just as you finally let yourself collapse beneath him. Your legs shaking with ecstasy whilst you let Sidney pump himself inside you faster now that he feels nothing but your throbbing walls retching him whole.

“God, y/n.” He grunts, biting his lower lip as you feel his body tensed up, his jaw clenching, and his biceps filling your palm like stones.

“Come for me, baby.” You pant, meeting his gaze before he shuts his eyes once he finally lets go and fill your walls with all of his juices, coating it all and letting it sit as he lets his body collapse on top of you.

You let out a small laugh at how flushed and hot his cheeks were once he buries himself on the side of your head. You sweetly plant a kiss on his cheeks and he meets your irises with a gentle gaze.

He makes his way down shortly, pecking on your shoulder before pulling himself up again to release his shaft from your core.

“Wait for me, okay?” He says at once, savoring how his cum spills from your lips, fashioning your slit with a sight that only leaves Sidney wanting for more.

Nonetheless, he knew you were tired. He strut his way back to the master bath to get a warm cloth that ought to clean you up. You, on the other hand, propped yourself up, letting your weight sit on both your arms as you admire the scenery of Sidney Crosby’s ass.

He walks back towards you with a smile, his face glowing with the post-sex rush, holding a white gentle cloth that ended cleaning you down your clit, making you gasp instantly upon contact.

Sidney then throws the cloth with the pile of mess you won’t bother cleaning up until morning. Once he was settled with you in bed, he takes you in his arms with the same gentleness he’s never failed to give you whenever you’re in his embrace. You rest your head on his arm, your hand safely placed atop his chest, content and satisfied in each other’s presence.

Now with both of your breathing settled and steady, exhaustion slowly catching on, Sidney places a soft kiss on your temple as you bask in each other’s arms, finally letting yourselves drift off to sleep.

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby smut #hockey smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey fic #letters to crosby #barzzal imagines

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sentakushimasu · 3 years

Text

diving off the deep end, breathe slow

pairing: sero hanta/iida tenya summary: Sero drowns during a training exercise. Today doesn't make Iida's list of top ten favourite days. genre: hurt/comfort, whump word count: 11.4k warnings: drowning, cpr, hospitals, slight vomit warning (no actual vomiting), hypothermia title from: dayseeker - drunk AO3

Sero tried to ignore the pang of disappointment in his chest as he saw Aizawa’s allocated teams. They were supposed to be randomly generated but Sero couldn’t help but feel like the world was out to get him.

Iida wasn’t on his team yet again.

It wasn’t a big deal, but every time they had a big scale training session, Sero wanted to try working on a team up with his boyfriend. They both had quirks that made them incredibly mobile, but they needed to work better in combat as a team.

Aizawa, however, seemed dead set on preventing that from happening.

Sero had to suppress a yelp as an arm wrapped around his neck and dragged him staggering along. He regained his balance as Kirishima let go of him, grinning widely.

Kirishima, Mina, Shinsou and himself in a team. They could make this work.

They’d all been arranged into five teams of four, tasked with placing quirk suppressing handcuffs on members of the other teams. Kirishima took the role of their self-proclaimed leader and happily accepted the five pairs of cuffs to share between the team. They’d been given the red ones, making it easier to keep track of who was cuffed by which team.

The other teams had other colours, and other interesting combinations of quirks. The blue team, consisting of Iida (their appointed leader), Yaoyorozu, Tsuyu and Uraraka, were likely going to be scarily efficient despite their lack of flashy quirks.

The green team was led by Deku, which, if that wasn’t scary enough, was followed by Shouji, Satou and Todoroki. Sero had to suppress a shudder just looking at that team. The only member who couldn’t easily snap him in half like a twig, could make mountains of ice and pyres of fire without batting an eye. He really hoped another team dealt with them before his team had the misfortune of running into them.

Less intimidating was the yellow team, fronted by Sero’s partner in crime, accompanied by Ojirou, Hagakure and Aoyama. Any team that let Kaminari take charge was not one that Sero felt the need to be scared of.

Bakugou was already barking out orders to the black team. Sero cringed in sympathy for Kouda, Jirou and Tokoyami. Their self-appointed leader was bound to run off on his own, leaving them without much opportunity to intimidate anyone they ran into. Tokoyami could be pretty terrifying in his own right, but going up against a team with Deku and Todoroki? He didn’t stand a chance.

Aizawa interrupted them, speaking in a bored tone, “the first team to use all of their quirk cuffs wins. No, you cannot cuff your teammates, doing so results in immediate disqualification for the entire team.”

Iida’s hand shot up. “Can we use the other teams’ handcuffs if we become separated from our team?”

“The team the cuffs belong to gets the point.”

Uraraka was the next one to raise her hand. “If we handcuff someone with their team’s handcuffs will their team still get disqualified?”

Aizawa paused for a second, regarding Uraraka with a lethargic look. “Yes.”

Okay, Sero had officially decided that the blue team was kind of terrifying. He wasn’t going to let himself be fooled by Uraraka’s round cheeks or the pink-heavy colour scheme of her hero outfit; she was out for blood.

As it turns out, Iida’s team was the only one asking any questions as Yaomomo joined the discussion. “Do we have to cuff both of their hands?”

“No, it’s the same as your previous exams. If you cuff one hand or ankle, you get the point.”

Mina leaned over and gave Sero a well-placed elbow to his ribs. “Don’t let glasses distract you, he’ll steal your handcuffs and disqualify our whole team while you’re busy making heart eyes.”

Sero just rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

As if to exemplify the fact that Sero was a filthy liar, he made eye contact with Iida who promptly gave him a wave that he returned with what was undoubtedly an utterly lovesick grin if Mina’s exaggerated fake gagging was anything to go by.

“We’re screwed,” she whined.

Sero gave her a half-hearted glare. “You have such little faith in me.”

Aizawa directed their attention to a map of the training grounds they were located in today. Between the cityscape of ground beta and the added area of the river and its surrounding banks, clearly he was prepared for a lot of big scale altercations. There were five markings on the map, all with a colour corresponding to the different teams.

“Every team has a starting location and the next fifteen minutes to get there

Most of the teams’ locations were within ground beta, aside from the red dot next to the bridge and the blue dot a little ways down the path from the bridge, away from ground beta. Great, an area that Sero couldn’t even swing the majority of, and they were completely exposed to the wind.

He was beginning to think that it was much too cold for outdoor training. As he trailed behind Kirishima and Mina. Shinsou hung back but Sero didn’t hold it against him, they were certainly a much louder group than the purple haired boy would be comfortable with.

Although that didn’t explain why he still let Kaminari follow him around like a hyperactive clingy puppy.

After all, Sero, one of the most chaotic and academically-underwhelming members of class 1-A had somehow managed to be dating Mr Perfect, the class president, for the past four months. Now that had been a shock to the rest of the class, most of all, Sero Hanta whose heart still skipped a beat when Iida reached out to take his hand.

Shinsou at least looked like his hero suit wasn’t going to let him freeze, his capture weapon even seeming to act like a scarf. The same could not be said for anyone else on their team as they began the trek down the pathway up to the bridge.

“Kiri, how are you not a popsicle? You have sleeves but no shirt!” Mina claimed as she shivered.

“I’m invincible,” Kirishima shrugged as he tapped a hardened fist on his now hardened chest. For dramatic effect.

“It’s too cold to be outside,” Sero piped up, rubbing his arms in an attempt to keep the blood circulating. He was kind of hoping that they ran into Todoroki during training, at least being gently roasted alive was better than the cold he was currently experiencing.

Maybe when the exercise started, they would be able to warm up, but the distance between them and the closest group was quite significant and he wasn’t sure they’d be too into an all-out battle.

Maybe if Yaoyorozu made a net and Sero accidentally let himself get caught, Iida would carry him back to base. That was always an option.

The bridge was a good location. From their position in the middle of it, they would be able to see anyone trying to sneak up on them. It was a better vantage point than what the blue team had, that’s for sure.

The group was just standing on the path along the riverbank, Yaoyorozu already sparkling as she used her quirk. As Sero squinted his eyes he could tell that she was handing a jacket to Tsu, he couldn’t help but to feel sympathy for his classmate who was much more sensitive to the cold than everyone else.

There was a ringing noise coming from the wristband Kirishima had been given as their team’s acting leader, to signal the start of the exercise.

“Theoretically, we could just wait for them to come to us,” Shinsou offered. “Let Bakugou deal with Midoriya and Todoroki before he tries to blow our heads off.”

“Good plan,” Sero supplies, trying to show Shinsou some support. “I’ll swing up the bridge supports and keep an eye out if you guys want to sit by the railing and stay out of the wind.”

Mina eyed him warily. “What about you? The wind is gonna be worse up there.”

Sero shrugged. “Pro-hero Cellophane isn’t bothered by the cold.”

“You’re not a pro yet,” Mina corrected him, folding her arms across her chest.

“If you get too cold you’ll come back down, right?” Shinsou asked, his voice laced with an emotion Sero couldn’t pinpoint. “If you faint up there, it would be bad news.”

“I’ll be extra careful,” Sero said with a wink.

Kirishima gave Sero a thumbs up and at that, Sero turned to look up at the structure of the bridge, quickly dispensing his tape.

As the tape curled around the support beam and held its position as Sero gave it a firm tug, he used it to propel himself upwards.

It had probably only been five minutes of Sero leaning against the cold metal of the bridge’s support beams before their first challengers arrived. Sero could see two figures headed towards them. Smaller in stature and both dressed dark, it only took Sero a few seconds to identify Jirou and Tokoyami.

Jirou, they could handle pretty easily. Tokoyami would be trouble.

Mina and Kirishima wouldn’t be at all effective against Dark Shadow, so that match would come down to Sero and Shinsou.

Scratch that, it came down to Sero.

He’d only just managed to swing down onto the bridge and alert his team to their visitors before Jirou’s quirk ripped through the air.

The volume disoriented Sero for a moment, knocking him off balance before he could swing himself back up into the air. He needed to incapacitate Jirou if they had any hope of using Shinsou’s quirk. If Tokoyami couldn’t hear him speak, he couldn’t be brainwashed.

Sparing a glance behind him, Sero noticed that Mina and Shinsou were both struggling to stay oriented as the sound assaulted their senses. It was no Present Mic, but it was powerful enough to pose a threat to their group when their most powerful quirk needed to be heard to work.

They were lucky that Sero at least had a quirk that worked long distance because while Kirishima and Mina had to get close to their opponent to use their quirks, Sero was able to maneuver through the air.

He had gotten much better at using his quirk midair during his time at UA, able to turn and shoot another reel of tape at the railing across the bridge and pull himself back down to the ground.

His landing was smooth as he folded himself to roll across the asphalt and up onto his feet.

He would never complain about the gymnastics classes his mum had forced him into during middle school ever again.

With another spin, he was wrapping his tape around Jirou and yanking her towards him, her arms pinned to her sides. She was too startled to maintain her quirk, whipping her earphone jacks towards Sero, likely in hopes of deterring him.

It didn’t work. Of course. As Sero slapped the quirk suppressant cuffs on her wrist.

He offered Jirou an apologetic smile as she glared at him.

The moment was cut short by an impact sending Sero flying to the side.

He quickly adjusted his form so that he rolled on impact with the ground and could easily pull himself back up on his knees. Only to find himself faced with Dark Shadow moving towards him, swooping side to side menacingly.

Sero was a big fan of the sentient quirk, it was like having a dog in the dorms, if dogs were made of shadows and could speak. What he didn’t like about Dark Shadow, was its ability to absolutely throttle him right now.

Forcing himself to his feet, Sero started to back away from the quirk, hoping that his team would figure something out while he had the threat distracted. If Dark Shadow focused its attention on someone else then Sero could possibly manage to restrain Tokoyami and cuff him if he was fast enough.

“Tokoyami, help!” Jirou called out, sounding so panicked that even Sero’s head snapped up at the sound.

Just in time to see Tokoyami’s expression go blank and his stance lose its tension. The consequence of calling out to his teammate in concern.

Shinsou was kneeling on the ground a few metres away, his hand still on his mask, his unruly purple hair moving in the wind. Clever.

Dark Shadow was quick to snap its attention to Tokoyami, fussing over the boy who wasn’t responding to him.

Sero saw his opportunity and took it.

He shot out the tape, wrapping it around Tokoyami to restrain him in case something interrupted Shinsou’s mind control.

Dark Shadow quickly retreated back into Tokoyami and Sero couldn’t help the proud smile spreading across his face as he nodded at Shinsou and gave him a thumbs up.

Shinsou’s quirk was officially his favourite. That was badass.

Their relief was soon interrupted by a loud clatter.

Sero’s eyes fell on the black handcuffs now sitting in the middle of the bridge. Which could only mean that someone else was here, and Sero sincerely doubted that Kouda would be dropping things from a height like that. Which left the last person Sero wanted to fight right now. Bakugou Katsuki.

The sound of an explosion confirmed his suspicions.

The dropped handcuffs weren’t a mistake, they were a threat.

Sero barely had a second to shoot out more tape and grab Shinsou, pulling his teammate towards him as Bakugou descended on the place where he stood, his hands popping with explosions.

With his hands on Shinsou’s shoulders, Sero steadied the purple haired boy, loosening the hold of the tape.

“Are you hurt?” Sero asked quickly, his eyes worriedly scanning Shinsou for any signs that the tape hadn’t been fast enough.

Shinsou looked thoroughly spooked but shook his head after a few seconds, snapping back into focus. “No.”

“Good. Did you cuff Tokoyami?”

Shinsou nodded. Great, that kept their threats to a minimum.

“Good job,” Sero said, giving Shinsou’s shoulder a supportive pat. “Stay where he can’t get you.”

Sero didn’t wait for a reply as he dispensed his tape and swung himself up into the fray.

Bakugou was fixated on Kirishima, hitting the boy’s hardened exterior with explosion after explosion. Sero cringed in sympathy, Kirishima said that it didn’t hurt but it still had to be hot.

Choosing that moment to look away from the fight, Sero turned to pull himself even higher up, reading another set of handcuffs in his non-dominant hand.

That was the easy part.

He turned back to the fight only to see that Bakugou had successfully cuffed Kirishima who was just staring at his wrist in shock. And Bakugou was notorious for not knowing when to quit as he reared up to set off another explosion at Kirishima.

Shooting out his tape in a panic, Sero grabbed Bakugou by his waist and tugged him away from the redhead. Only for the explosion to be rounded on him.

Bakugou missed his mark and Sero foolishly let Bakugou explode the tape that tethered them together.

His enemy was now airborne, setting off explosions as he hovered, staring at Sero with murderous intent. Sero hoped he looked good because this was going to be his last day alive with Bakugou looking at him like that.

Sero was a lot of things, a smart guy who thought things through before he did them was not one of them.

He shot out tape at a support beam directly across the bridge, and prayed that Bakugou didn’t sever it as he yanked himself to the other side. His other hand readied with the handcuffs.

In a stroke of dumb luck, Sero managed to clip the black handcuffs above Bakugou’s gauntlet. The older boy had made a mistake dropping those as a threat.

Sero had a split second to be proud of himself as the incessant sound of popping ceased before he realised that he was swinging over the edge of the bridge and Bakugou was plummeting.

He was getting too far away, forgetting to halt the unwinding of his tape until he was a ridiculous distance out from the bridge. There was no way he could reach the explosive teen now.

He shot a new piece of tap at the railing and tried to pull himself back down, turning to shoot a second strand towards Bakugou to hopefully help his descent.

The tape missed and Sero was swinging too low, on course to swing under the bridge before he could pull himself back up the other side.

Shinsou’s capture weapon caught Bakugou and Sero had to hope his fall wasn’t too dramatic as the top of the bridge left his eyesight.

He just had to swing under the bridge and come up on the other side, and then he’d be able to check on everyone. It would only take him a few seconds to be back topside.

Sero felt the release of tension in his tape and before he even realised what was happening, he was in freefall and on a collision course with the river. That was the thing about his quirk, the constant looming threat of falling. In his panic, he tried to fling out some more tape, hoping it would find a purchase on some part of the underside of the bridge.

Or the railing that entered his line of sight as he fell along the trajectory of his previous swing. He could almost swear he saw a head of fluffy pink hair peeking over the railing.

His tape failed to connect with anything as his body hit water.

Which was freezing.

The shock of the impact and the temperature drop had Sero taking an involuntary breath of nothing but water, the coldness eagerly filling his lungs and pushing out whatever air he had left. He wasn’t sure if his helmet was still on his head or if it was just whatever the opposite of watertight was.

Even opening his eyes to the assault of the cold water didn’t help his case. He couldn’t see any light to tell him which way the surface was. All he knew was that his lungs burned and he could do nothing more than try to swim and hope he wasn’t sinking.

He tried to stay calm, but there was really no option for him other than to panic and hope that someone fished him out of the water.

Kirishima would sink like a stone if he even dared to jump in after Sero, he would immediately harden in contact with the water. Mina and Shinsou could swim but the jump off the bridge was far too dangerous.

Maybe Bakugou could get to the water with his explosions, but Sero couldn’t remember if he’d be able to propel them out of the river even if he did go after Sero. He didn’t see the end of Bakugou’s fall, his friend could very well be dangerously injured, far too poorly off to help the one who was responsible for his fall.

His head was so foggy.

There was a different quality to the darkness that crept in around the corner of his vision in comparison to the darkness of the water. Sero had always thought he could hold his breath for a long time, but he guessed that the gut instinct of inhaling the water would be his undoing.

Sero vaguely recalled that there was another group, closer to the riverbank. He couldn’t remember who had been there, but he could only hope that Tsu was nearby, she was perhaps the only one who would be able to get him. She was very qualified with water rescues.

The fog was growing thicker, heavier, and Sero wasn’t sure he had the energy to keep up his fight towards the surface.

It was always fun when a training exercise became a rescue mission. He just hoped that someone fished him out before it was too late.

Everything was heavy and Sero let the water take him.

Iida’s entire team snapped to attention when they heard a scream.

“SERO!”

It was raw and filled with genuine terror. Iida felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head as he turned in the direction the scream came from. Just in time to see a dark form hit the water at a high speed, white strips of tape hanging uselessly in the air as they floated down onto the river’s surface.

With bated breath, everyone watched the surface of the water, waiting for Sero to surface.

Iida’s mind was a whirlwind. Had he hit his head? Had he been blown from the bridge by one of their classmates’ stronger quirks? Why had Iida yet to see his boyfriend’s hair pop out the top of the water?

No one needed to say anything before Asui was racing down the riverbank and throwing out her tongue.

Asui pulled Sero from the water with ease, how she had even known where he was, was beyond Iida. He would have to thank her later, after he checked on his boyfriend.

That water had to be freezing, and Iida was not unfamiliar with the knowledge that Sero would lose his body heat a lot faster in cold water. He was in his winter version of his suit but it wasn’t waterproof.

Sero’s helmet had fallen off at some point, maybe even prior to him hitting the water, Iida noticed as he raced over to meet him and Asui.

Iida didn’t know what he was expecting when he crashed to his knees next to his boyfriend’s wet form. Coughing and complaining? Sure. Sero being completely limp, soaked to the bone and not giving Iida’s presence any acknowledgement? Not what Iida expected.

Sero’s dark hair was plastered to his skin by the water, his eyes were closed, his lips and the tip of his nose going a jarring shade of purple and grey.

“Sero?”

Iida wrapped his hand around the top of Sero's shoulder, where it met the base of his neck. He tried to ignore how cold Sero felt to the touch, blaming it on the water, but the temperature of his skin had anxiety curling in Iida’s gut. "Sero? Hanta, can you hear me?"

Sero offered him no response, not even a twitch or grumble like he usually did when Iida bothered him while the older boy was trying to take a cat nap on the common room couch.

Okay. Bad news.

"Call an ambulance, and Aizawa-sensei!" Iida called out. It came out a lot shakier than he was expecting.

He leant down so that his cheek hovered above Sero's mouth and nose, his hand resting atop his boyfriend's chest. He was hoping, begging, for the sensation of air brushing against his face or movement under his hand, even the sound of Sero's breathing or the sight of his chest rising and falling.

Worse news.

Sero wasn't breathing.

Iida wasn't wearing his watch so he couldn't be certain that it had been ten seconds but he knew that it had been too long without any indication that Sero could breathe.

Aizawa regularly made them revise first aid so it wasn't like Iida didn't know what to do.

But there was a world of difference between a CPR dummy and turning his giggling boyfriend onto his side, and Sero being completely unresponsive and being entirely dependent on Iida to help him.

Taking a deep breath and trying to shove his anxiety deeper inside himself, Iida positioned himself. With his knees pressed up against Sero’s side, his right hand over his left and his elbows locked straight.

His mind was a whirlwind as he started the compressions. Was he pressing hard enough? Was it fast enough? Was he even helping?

He was quick to shove the thoughts out of his mind, he couldn’t afford to think about anything other than the compressions. If he hesitated or freaked out, it could cost Sero his life.

“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty,” Iida counted under his breath. He leant down to Sero’s face, his hands tilting his boyfriend’s head back and pinching his nose as Iida’s mouth covered Sero’s cold one.

Two breaths and he was back to pumping Sero’s heart for him. Iida’s head swam at the thought.

Iida was counting his way through his second ground of compressions when someone fell into place on Sero’s other side. Iida didn’t even bother to look up at who they were, he only cared about one thing right now, seeing Sero awake and breathing.

“Iida.” So it was Yaoyorozu next to him. “I have a defibrillator. Attach it while I do the breaths, okay?”

Iida nodded firmly. “Okay.”

Fuck, he’d forgotten all about the defibrillator in his panic. Had she made it? He tried to pull up the mental map of where AEDs were located around campus but it was all a blur in his head. He couldn’t think clearly about anything other than Hanta.

He says his “thirty” loud enough for Yaoyorozu to hear him and she snapped into action, passing the opened defibrillator to Iida as she placed a bag-valve-mask over Sero’s nose and mouth.

Either she was truly the best at locating things under pressure or she was incredible at using her complex quirk in a panic. Iida couldn’t rule out either.

He would be grateful for her for the rest of his life, he suspected.

Iida grabbed the shears from the defibrillator box and started to cut away Sero’s hero costume. It was a simple motion, starting at the base of Sero’s throat and stopping just above his pelvis.

Vaguely, Iida was aware that Sero’s chest was falling for the second time and Yaoyorozu was setting the bag valve mask down next to his head.

“I’ll get it, you do compressions.”

Iida couldn’t find it in him to say anything, getting back into the rhythm of pushing on Sero’s chest. It was more physically draining than he had expected, his arms ached and his chest was begging to feel tight with the exhaustion. But he couldn’t stop. He would keep going until Sero’s heart was beating on its own.

Out of the corner of his eye, Iida can see Yaoyorozu peeling back the film on the AED pads so he took over the breaths for her. He didn’t even bother fumbling with the mask that was on the other side of Sero.

In the span of two rescue breaths, Yaoyorozu had dried off Sero’s torso with a towel that would have seemingly appeared out of midair if Iida didn’t know any better and attached the pads to his chest.

Iida hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do.

Yaoyorozu’s voice was firm yet comforting as she spoke. “Keep going.”

Thankfully, at least one of them could keep their head on straight right now.

As Iida continued the compressions, his heart breaking ten times over with every one, Yaoyorozu called out to someone outside of his field of vision.

“Uraraka, can you use the bag mask? Just squeeze it twice when Iida does thirty compressions.”

There was a silent exchange and another body kneeling on the ground with them.

The AED made a noise when Iida stopped his compressions. How long had it been? It felt like a lifetime. The amicable chatter he had been exchanging with Asui and Uraraka as they walked down the riverbank seemed like it had happened forever ago. Where was Aizawa? They needed help.

“Analysing rhythm, don’t touch the patient.”

Iida snatched his hands away from where they hovered close to Sero, shuffling back until his knees were no longer touching his boyfriend.

They waited with baited breath for the machine’s verdict.

“No shock advised. Continue compressions.”

Iida was back in position in less than a second, pushing down on his boyfriend’s chest again. Sero’s sternum was firm below the heel of Iida’s palm.

How many times had he languidly traced his fingers across Sero’s skin, trailing ghosts of fingertips over his boyfriend’s sternum, a flat palm pressed over where Iida could feel the strong thumping of Sero’s heart? He’d become so accustomed to just reaching out and touching Sero, it was normal, but this wasn’t like that.

There was no sight of black eyes watching him carefully as Sero’s lips curled into a smile, a soft “I love you” on his tongue.

The stupid monotonous “press, press, press” from the AED was not helping to ease Iida’s panic. He couldn’t do more than try to tune it out.

“Come on, Hanta,” Iida pleaded, his voice breaking with the pent up emotion he had accumulated in the past few minutes. “Breathe.” Iida was still pressing on Sero’s chest, hoping that with every thrust downwards that it would spur Sero into motion. “Please, Hanta. You have to breathe!”

Yaoyorozu and Uraraka both refrained from saying anything as the tears started to fall, Iida couldn’t keep them at bay anymore. He was tired, he was desperate, and Sero was still cold and unresponsive.

His tears hit the back of Iida’s hand, others pooling on Sero’s skin.

Aizawa couldn’t have picked a better or worse time to show up.

There was some shuffling and Aizawa was kneeling on the other side of Sero, Yaoyorozu having moved to take over the position by Sero’s head. Where did Uraraka go?

“Iida,” Aizawa said. He was clearly out of breath. Had he run to them? Iida didn’t doubt that his teacher would. After all, he’d proven himself willing to give his life for them. “Next round you’re swapping out with me,” he commanded in a low voice.

Iida shook his head. “I can’t”.

“You can. You’re tired and you need to let me take over. You’ve done well, let me help, Iida.”

Iida couldn’t keep up his argument. Aizawa was right, he was tired.

As he finished his round of compressions, he leant back heavily, turning his legs so that he didn’t sit on his engines.

Aizawa offered him a sympathetic look, but there was an edge to it - worry.

Iida couldn’t do anything more than watch as Aizawa took over. He kept his eyes trained on Sero’s face, mostly obscured by the mask. Yaoyorozu also had tears in her eyes but with her lips pressed into a firm line, they didn’t spill.

That’s when it really sank in.

This was supposed to be a routine training exercise, and now Sero might not walk away from it. How did everything go so wrong so quickly?

Aizawa was still going when he spoke, “Sero, if you open your eyes, I’ll give you an A on every test left in the semester.”

There was a weird quality to his voice. Iida wasn’t used to hearing this much identifiable emotion from his teacher, a plea with the unconscious kid he was supposed to take care of, masked in useless humour.

Sero would laugh if he made Aizawa cry. It had always been such a bizarre thing to think about, but Iida wasn’t so sure anymore.

His timing was almost comical.

As Aizawa started on his second round of compressions, the student beneath him jolted, spitting up water as he desperately tried to suck air into his lungs.

“Sero!” Yaoyorozu exclaimed, Iida had no doubt that she was crying those tears now.

“Turn him on his side,” Aizawa instructed as he slid his hands under Sero’s shoulder and hip, turning him towards Iida who quickly moved to help guide Sero into a stable side position.

He was breathing, and it finally felt like Iida could breathe too.

Sero was coughing as his chest spasmed, emptying his lungs of filthy river water.

Yaoyorozu was cooing and brushing Sero’s hair out of his face. If the tape user was more aware right now he probably would have been blushing at the ministrations, but currently they just helped to settle his panicked writhing.

“Just breathe, Sero,” Iida says, his voice uncharacteristically shaky but no one dares question it. He’s completely focused on holding Sero steady as he breathes. The sound is laboured and wheezy but it’s the most beautiful thing Iida has ever heard.

Iida doesn’t even look when Aizawa unwraps his capture weapon from around his neck and slides the bundle of fabric under Sero’s head. His scarred and much bigger than Yaoyorozu’s hand rested against the back of his student’s wet head for a few moments before he retracted it, instead opting to hold onto Sero’s wrist, feeling his pulse and looking at his watch on his other wrist.

“You did good, kid. Focus on breathing.”

Sero let out a weak and breathless laugh. He seemed to be done with coughing up the water, much to Iida’s relief. “Praise from Aizawa-sensei, I really must be dead.”

Aizawa didn’t look up from his watch. “Do you know where you are?”

“Somewhere wet,” Sero grumbled before shuddering. “I’m cold.”

“Yaoyorozu, do you think you could make him a blanket?”

Iida looked up at Yaoyorozu, only really looking at her at this moment. Her eyes were red and her face tear-streaked, she looked exhausted. He felt bad that Aizawa was asking her to do even more after she just exhausted herself and her quirk to save Sero’s life.

But Sero was shivering pretty aggressively under Iida’s hold. His lips and nose were still discoloured, and from this angle he could see that the purple tint extended to Sero’s eyelids.

She nodded. “Of course.”

Aizawa wrote something on the back of his hand as he set Sero’s hand down. Iida had no idea where his teacher had produced the pen but he was fairly impressed with Aizawa’s efficiency and professionalism. Especially considering that Iida and Yaoyorozu were both still crying. The wetness on Aizawa’s cheeks did not evade the class representative’s notice though.

As the sparkles in the corner of Iida’s vision died down, he was handed the corner of a very fluffy blanket, Aizawa taking the other as they tucked it around Sero.

“The ambulance is almost here,” Uraraka’s voice chirped helpfully from behind Iida. He hadn’t realised that she was still there.

“Thank you, Uraraka. Do you think you and Asui can meet them when they enter the training grounds and guide them here?” Aizawa asked, his voice so soft it was frankly unnerving.

“Of course, sensei!”

And with that, the two girls were gone.

“Tenya?” Sero croaked, snapping Iida back to focus.

“Yeah?”

If Aizawa noticed the use of Iida’s given name, he didn’t give any indication. Maybe he was just too relieved that Sero was alive to care much about anything else. The teacher just continued to kneel there with a hand on Sero’s back and his eyes on his watch.

“Are you okay?” Sero asked softly, reaching for Iida with a clumsy hand. Cold fingers wrapping around Iida’s own.

Iida takes a few seconds to be surprised. “What?”

“You’re crying.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Sero hums thoughtfully. “I like it better when you smile.”

They kept up the random chatter until the ambulance arrived. Aizawa took the role of talking to the paramedics and Iida was incredibly grateful for that, he wasn’t sure he could get through a sentence without crying at the moment. He was feeling very emotionally raw.

The paramedics were nice enough to work around Iida, whom Sero was still holding onto.

Sero grumbled when one of the paramedics secured an oxygen mask to his face, letting go of Iida’s hand to try and remove it. He was sitting up now but his eyes were still glossy and he didn’t seem entirely present. Iida snatched Sero’s hand back with a firm look.

“Don’t do that.”

“It feels weird,” Sero whined, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask.

“Too bad. Don’t drown next time.” Iida felt kind of guilty when he was being so strict with Sero, but he wasn’t about to let his boyfriend interfere with his medical care.

“You’re so mean to me.”

Iida was about to respond but he was interrupted by one of the paramedics, he was unsure if it was the same one that gave Sero the oxygen mask or not. “Do you think you can stand?”

Sero paused for a second, mulling over the question before he gave the paramedic a shake of his head.

“That’s okay, we can go at your pace. You can sit here for a little longer and try again or we could figure out some other option that suits you,” the paramedic said in such a comforting tone that even Iida felt reassured.

Sero seemed to perk up at that. “Can Tenya pick me up?”

Iida internally groaned. Their relationship was not going to be a secret from Aizawa after today.

“If that’s what you’re both comfortable with, then sure, I’ll just hold onto the oxygen tank and we’ll get you on the gurney and loaded into the ambulance, okay? It’s much warmer than out here, too.”

Iida had no qualms about lifting Sero. His boyfriend weighed basically nothing and loved being carried around regularly. Sometimes he would be too tired to be bothered walking up to his dorm and made Iida scoop him up and take him there to prevent him from sleeping on the couch and waking up with a crick in his neck.

With an arm under Sero’s shoulders and another behind his knees, Iida easily lifted his partner. It was only a matter of steps to the elevated surface of the gurney which he nestled Sero on easily.

The other paramedic was quick to cover Sero in blankets, especially considering that the one Yaoyorozu kindly provided was pretty much soaked through at this point. Iida hoped she would get some rest when she got back to the dorms, but figured most of the class would wait up for news on their classmate’s condition.

As the paramedics loaded the gurney into the ambulance, one of them turned to speak. “Who’s riding with?”

Iida turned to Aizawa, expecting to be given instructions to handle the class while Aizawa went with Sero to the hospital but Aizawa just nodded his head in the direction of the ambulance. “Go ahead.”

“But sensei-”

“No buts. I’ll wrap things up here and meet you at the hospital. I trust you can handle things for an hour.”

“I- thank you sensei!” Iida said, following his boyfriend into the back of the ambulance.

Turning back to look at Aizawa who was bending over to pick up his sodden capture scarf off the ground, Iida saw the group of their classmates that had gathered. Only a few of them were there, but they all looked off.

Iida’s entire group was there, of course. Yaoyorozu was folding up the soaked blanket she had made for Sero, her face still covered in tears. Uraraka had her arms around Tsuyu, both of them looking worse for wear.

At some point that Iida would not have been able to pinpoint if he tried, Sero’s team had joined them. Ashido was holding onto Kirishima, looking like she’d barely just stopped crying, Kirishima didn’t look much better, his own face streaked with tears. Shinsou hung back from the two, his mask in his hand as he watched everything with wide eyes.

Bakugou wasn’t a member of either group but he was there, looking uncharacteristically solemn. Iida idly wondered how much they’d seen. Bakugou was not known for being quiet, and he was just standing there with a vacant look as his arms hung limply by his side.

Iida turned back to Sero just in time to see him giving his friends a wave.

Out of everyone, he seemed to be taking it the best. He was soaked to the bone, visibly exhausted and had an oxygen mask strapped to his face but he still smiled when he met Iida’s eye.

“Tenya don’t let them take my suit,” Sero called out. Iida was growing more accustomed to Sero speaking through the oxygen mask, making communication much easier. It also helped that Sero was now a lot more aware than he had been in the ambulance.

“It’s beyond salvation, you’re going to need a new one,” Iida stated.

Sero just whined at him. “I don’t want them to cut my suit.”

Iida looked over at the nurse who was already most of the way done cutting the fabric away from Sero’s skin. “I already cut it.”

“But it’s okay when you do it.”

“If you’re brave and listen to the hospital staff, you’ll be able to go home earlier.”

Sero perked up at that. “Really? Can we watch a movie back at the dorms?”

“If you’re feeling up to it when you get discharged, then sure,” Iida said with a soft smile. He rubbed his palms against his thighs, cursing how uncomfortable it was to wear his suit for non-hero purposes. He did not design it with sitting in a chair in mind.

The other issue was that his hands would not stop shaking. It had been a solid half an hour of sitting in the ER with Sero but Iida couldn’t quell the constant trembling. It wasn’t even subtle, he had planned on texting the class group chat with an update but he couldn’t hold his phone steady for long enough to even unlock it.

Sero had noticed, pretty early on actually, he mumbled something about Iida’s shaky hands and offered to hold them. That had lasted for a short while until Sero had gotten tired of trying to comfort Iida. He was very exhausted, losing the energy to do much more than pipe up occasionally when he thought of something funny that he wanted to share.

Iida sincerely doubted that Sero would be able to hold out for an entire movie by the time they got back to the dorms. That was unless the doctor decided to keep Sero overnight, which was still possible.

However, Iida really hoped that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t sure he could handle going back to the dorms for the night and not being able to confirm his boyfriend’s safety with his own eyes.

If the anxiety seized him right now, he could just reach out and take Sero’s hand or look across the bed at the monitor that beeps to reaffirm that Sero’s heart was beating fine.

Iida wasn’t sure he could ever shake the fear of the realisation that it wasn’t. It hadn’t been. He’d come within a hair’s breadth of not sitting next to Sero’s hospital bed as the older boy complained about getting his suit cut off.

He could be sitting in the dorms right now, grieving with everyone else. But he wasn’t.

Sero looked extra unimpressed as he sat up, Iida leapt from his seat, his arm coming up behind Sero’s shoulders to stabilize him.

The nurse quickly tied the hospital gown in place and Sero was eased back onto the now elevated mattress so he could sit up and pout at Iida with minimal effort.

Sero spoke when the nurse left the room, pulling the curtain shut behind her. “It’s ugly.”

Iida rolled his eyes. “It’s practical.”

“Still ugly,” Sero grumbled. “I’m tired.

“Take a nap, I’ll be here the entire time. Just don’t mess with the wires.”

Sero rolled over onto his side and pulled his knees up to his chest. “Goodnight, Tenya.”

“It’s like 3pm.”

“Goodnight, Tenya,” Sero said again, his voice firmer.

Iida couldn’t help but sigh as he stood up again to press a kiss to the top of Sero’s head in his semi-dry hair. “Goodnight, Hanta.”

He lingered for a moment, drinking in the sight of his boyfriend. The whiteness of the hospital gown, the bed sheets and blankets all served to amplify how pale Sero looked. He still had that purple tint to his extremities. There were at least a billion wires poking out from the top of the hospital gown, all of them connected to some monitor or another. The oxygen mask was still firmly fixed to his face, a little grey rectangular clip on the index finger of his right hand to document the necessity for the mask.

He knew Sero had to be feeling pretty awful right now, but his boyfriend continued to joke and try to make Iida smile, it made his heart squeeze in his chest as Iida reached for the bundle of blankets that had slipped to Sero’s feet. He tucked them up to his boyfriend’s shoulders and pressed another kiss to his hair before returning to his seat.

After a trip to radiology for a chest x-ray that Iida had to sit in the waiting area for the duration of, Iida followed Sero up to a room in the pediatric ward.

It was weird, following the orderlies and his boyfriend’s hospital bed through the corridors and a bunch of kids. Some of them were crying and screaming, others running around with friends and giggling. He felt very out of place as an almost-adult still dressed head-to-toe in his hero gear.

As Sero was settled into the room, his oxygen mask was switched to a nasal cannula that showed off the fact that the colour had come back to his face. He still had his pile of blankets as well as an additional IV that the nurse said was warm saline to bring up his body temperature a little faster.

The wires were still there, as was the pulse oximeter clipped to his finger, and a little paper cup of tea in Sero’s hands that he slowly sipped.

Aizawa joined them after a little while, as Sero’s eyelids were beginning to droop again. “What’s the verdict?”

“They killed my suit,” Sero grumbled, pouting like a child.

Aizawa quirked a questioning eyebrow.

“They had to cut it off of him when he arrived,” Iida supplied helpfully.

“I’ll contact the support class when we get back to UA,” Aizawa said simply, ignoring Sero’s pout. He lifted up a hand with two cloth shopping bags dangling from his grip. “I got your classmates to get you both a change of clothes. I figured you didn’t want to be Ingenium right now, and Sero is going to need something to wear when he gets discharged.”

“When is that going to be?” Sero asked, bringing his paper cup to his lips again.

Aizawa levelled him with a stern gaze. “You almost died, Sero.” His expression and voice softened considerably. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better.”

“So when do I get to go home?”

“The doctor said that once his temperature and Oxygen levels are back within a normal range, they’ll keep him for a few extra hours for observation. Said it’s unlikely that they’ll keep him overnight unless a complication arises,” Iida explained.

Aizawa pointed an accusing finger in Sero’s direction. “Don’t even think about wracking up pneumonia or, god forbid, a cardiac arrest. You’ve already traumatised poor Iida enough for one day.”

Sero tapped the finger with his pulse oximeter clipped to it on his chin. “I could do another cardiac arrest, for the drama of it all.”

Iida made a choked noise. “Please don’t.”

Sero and Aizawa both turned to him, Sero’s eyes wide and Aizawa’s eyebrows pulled together - in concern.

“Do you need a hug, Iida?” Aizawa asked in his usual monotone, regarding his student with an unreadable expression.

“What?”

Aizawa spread his arms in an invitation. “Free dad hug, one-time offer.”

“No-” Iida started, not even able to finish his sentence through his surprise. Aizawa was offering to hug him. “No thank you, sensei.”

“Your loss,” Aizawa said with a shrug, dropping his arms back to his sides.

Sero perked up. “I want a dad hug. Can I have a dad hug?”

“No. You give me heart palpitations, you don’t get a dad hug.”

“Aww, just one?” Sero asked, reaching a hand out towards Aizawa. It was clear that Sero was milking this opportunity for all it was worth, he knew he’d never be able to be so casual with Aizawa under any other circumstance without getting scolded.

“Maybe if you still want one when you’re discharged. Focus on recovering for now.”

“On it. You’ve neer seen someone more recovered from drowning than me.”

Aizawa set one of the bags of clothes at the foot of the bed, holding out the other one for Iida to take.

“The Ingenium suit can’t be all that comfortable right now.”

Aizawa’s gaze softened when Iida held the bag of clothes to his chest but didn’t move, his eyes still glued to Sero. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Get changed.”

Iida wanted to object but Aizawa wasn’t wrong. His suit was big and clunky and awkward. It was making his back hurt from the simple task of trying to sit in a chair.

He nodded and quickly shuffled out of the room and to the bathroom at the end of the corridor.

He changed in record speed, not wanting to be away from Sero for too long. The trembling he had finally managed to suppress came back with a vengeance when he left Sero’s company.

Hurrying back, Iida slipped back into the room, dressed in a much more comfortable hoodie and sweatpants.

Aizawa looked up at Iida from his place in the lone seat next to Sero’s bed as the door fell shut behind Iida. “Iida, can I speak with you outside for a moment? It won’t take long.”

“Sure.” Iida said, meeting eyes with Sero who looked equally as confused.

Aizawa continued walking up the corridor until they approached a vending machine. He punched in a few numbers and inserted his money, in a matter of seconds there was a chocolate bar being pressed into Iida’s hand.

“Eat it. You look like you’re about to collapse.” Aizawa’s voice was missing its usual commanding edge but Iida obeyed nonetheless.

“Present Mic is staying with 1-A in the dorms. Last I heard they’re watching movies and ordering food.”

Iida hummed thoughtfully as he continued to eat the chocolate bar under Aizawa’s watchful gaze. “That’s good.”

“They’re all worried, but glad that you’re here with him.”

Iida didn’t have much more to offer than another hum.

He was folding up the empty wrapper with trembling fingers when Aizawa spoke again. “If they do end up deciding to keep him here for the night, I’ll see what I can do about you staying with him.”

Iida looked up at that. “What? Why?”

“Your hands have gotten considerably more shaky the longer we’ve been out here. Staying with your boyfriend will help you keep calm, and I don’t think either of you would benefit from being alone right now.”

Curse how observant Aizawa was. They always forgot, but he noticed the smallest things. “He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Iida,” Aizawa cut him off, “I have known you since you were a baby. You’re going to have to be a better liar than that to convince me.”

“How long have you known?”

“I’ve had my suspicions for a few months, you’re not exactly subtle. But Hizashi and I have been in and out of hospitals enough, I know that look. And Sero calling you by your given name when he was half-conscious while insisting that he hold your hand and be carried by you did not help your case,” Aizawa supplied.

“Ah, that makes sense.”

They stood there in silence for a little longer, before Aizawa of all people broke it.

“Iida.” The softness in his voice was back. This had been a very out of character night for the both of them.

“Yes, sensei?”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine-” Iida started, looking up to meet Aizawa’s gaze. Which was full of concern as he regarded his student. Iida cut himself off with the strangled sob that clawed its way out of his throat.

And he fell apart. One crack in his resolve and it all came pouring out. He didn’t have the energy to try and stop the sobs and the tears in favour of saving face in front of his teacher.

Aizawa didn’t speak, he just pulled Iida into a hug. There was barely two inches of height between them but Iida had never felt so small.

He continued to cry, loud broken sobs into Aizawa’s shirt, his tears undoubtedly leaving a large wet patch in the fabric. He was just so overwhelmed, more than he had thought, and it all came spilling out of him at once.

Aizawa, to his credit, gave pretty good hugs. He held Iida steady, rubbing circles into his back and mumbling words of comfort. “It’s okay, let it out. You’re gonna be okay.”

It took a while for Iida to finally get his sobbing under control. He had no idea how long he'd been crying in Aizawa's arms but it was definitely too long.

Sero was probably wondering where they were.

Iida cleared his throat. "Sorry sensei, I-"

"Don't mention it," Aizawa cut in quickly. "You've had one hell of a day and you needed comfort. It's nothing to be ashamed about. Personally, I've probably spent more hours crying into Kayama's shoulder than I've spent sleeping in the past month."

"Midnight-sensei?"

Aizawa nodded. "She gives the best hugs."

“That makes sense,” Iida mumbled, wiping at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve.

“Are you feeling better?” Aizawa asked, punching a few more numbers into the vending machine. Iida was hit with the shocking realisation that he’d just had a breakdown in the middle of this corridor, in front of a vending machine. If anyone had wanted a snack all they would have seen was Iida sobbing in his teacher’s arms for god knows how long.

Iida laughed a little breathlessly, there was no humour in the gesture. “Aside from crying out half the fluid in my body, yeah. Thank you, sensei.”

Aizawa bent down to retrieve something from the vending machine, only to hand a water bottle to Iida.

“Let’s go check on trouble, what do you think?”

Iida nodded, smiling softly as Aizawa began walking back to Sero’s room.

Sero had been discharged at midnight. A full nine hours after his admission. It’d been a long night.

By 5pm, Sero had been taken off of his supplemental oxygen, and his levels stayed consistent in its absence.

The remaining seven hours passed without incident.

Most of them were spent with Sero insisting that Iida sit in the bed with him as he messed around on the younger boy’s phone. Iida had supervised Sero’s texting the class group chat and the older boy went as far as to send a selfie of himself and Iida to comfort their concerned classmates.

“Mina says you look worse than I do,” Sero chirped.

Iida just nodded, leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Tell her I said thank you.”

Sero showed him a few pictures that had been sent in the group chat. One of Present Mic drinking a mug of something in the dorm kitchen with his hair out of it’s gelled spike and in a complicated arrangement of braids and Ashido standing next to him, looking incredibly proud of herself.

A picture of Bakugou sitting on the couch, his head on Kirishima’s chest, he appeared to be asleep, bundled up in a hoodie that was definitely not his if the print on the back was anything to go buy. Iida was fairly confident that Kirishima was the only student in their class who owned limited edition Crimson Riot merchandise.

Another picture, this time of the floor where Uraraka appeared to be demolishing Jirou and Todoroki in uno.

The final picture Sero showed him was a selfie sent by Kaminari, the electric boy looking very happy as he threw up a peace sign, Shinsou was sitting next to him and held up a less enthusiastic peace sign but still gave them a smile.

Soaking in the physical affirmation that Sero was okay as the older boy pressed into his side was enough to soothe Iida’s anxiety. He sat back as Sero messed around on his phone, chatting with their classmates until he got a little too overwhelmed for his tired mind to keep up with.

Sero had begged to watch a movie not long after he’d bid farewell to the class chat, only to fall asleep on Iida’s shoulder before they were even halfway through it. Iida, however, was not far behind him.

The nurses had been very stealthy with their regular vital checks, successfully not rousing either of the boys as Aizawa continued to do all the necessary paperwork and phone calls in silence.

The two of them were woken a little past midnight by Sero’s doctor carrying out a final check of the boy’s condition before happily handing Aizawa the discharge papers.

Aizawa and Iida waited in the corridor for a nurse to help Sero get changed. When the eldest boy joined them, he was wearing an outfit not dissimilar to Iida’s. In fact, he was wearing one of Iida’s hoodies that hung loose on his lanky frame.

Iida had half a mind to just carry Sero up to his room when he fell asleep in the passenger seat of Aizawa’s car, a blanket tucked under his chin.

Gently shaking his shoulder, Sero stirred with an unintelligent string of mumbling. “Tenya?”

“I know you wanna sleep, but we’re at the dorms now, so you gotta wake up enough to get to bed.”

“Carry me,” Sero grumbled, his hands fisting in the fabric of Iida’s hoodie.

Iida couldn’t help but to laugh a little at his partner’s antics. Sero was so clingy when he was tired. “I would, sweetheart, but everyone’s been waiting for us to get home and I’m afraid they might collapse if they see me carrying you inside.”

“That’s so rude of them.”

“Okay, you tell them that.”

“I will,” Sero said firmly as he stumbled, half-asleep, out of Aizawa’s car, his hands still latched onto his boyfriend, using Iida to steady himself.

Aizawa silently watched the scene unfold, never saying anything as he followed behind the pair. Eighteen sets of eyes landed on them the second they stepped over the threshold.

“Sero!” a cacophony of voices called out.

“Don’t crowd him, he’s exhausted,” Aizawa commanded over the buzzing activity around him. “Where’s Mic?”

Iida watched Bakugou shrug and point towards the common room couches with the jerk of his thumb. “He fell asleep.”

Aizawa quickly departed from Iida and Sero’s side, headed over to rouse his husband. Iida couldn’t fathom how they’d actually managed to keep their relationship a secret from the students for this long. They were nothing close to subtle.

Iida stepped back a little, his hand still in Sero’s as the class descended upon them. Kirshima, Kaminari and Ashido all took turns giving their friend a hug. There were lots of questions thrown around, and a lot more hugs for Sero to receive, even one for Iida from Yaoyorozu who looked as worn out as he felt.

Tears were shed, everyone basking in the relief that their classmate was back, safe and sound.

“You look wiped,” Kirishima said as he turned to Iida who just offered him a half-hearted smile.

“It’s been a long day. I think we’re just gonna head up to bed before Sero falls asleep standing up.”

Kirishima gave him a firm pat on the back. “Good luck with that, Bakubro is intent on feeding you both. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to admitting that he cares, do not take it lightly.”

Iida nodded before turning back to Sero who was almost swaying on his feet. “Let’s go sit down, Bakugou made food.”

Sero hummed, not even bothering to open his eyes as Iida wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “He’s a good cook.”

Sitting on one of the common room couches, under the watchful eyes of everyone who wasn’t convinced that Sero was okay just yet, Sero and Iida shared a bowl of tofu stir fry.

Sero didn’t have the stomach for much, and insisted that Iida feed him, too tired to operate chopsticks on his own. He’d fallen asleep curled up into Iida’s side before the bowl was even emptied.

Iida stayed on the couch with Sero for a little while, talking with his remaining company in a low voice until he started to feel himself drifting off. It was time they made their way up to bed.

There was truly no other option but to carry Sero upstairs at this point, it was nearing 2am and there was no hope to rouse his partner for long enough to get all the way up to either of their dorms.

Bakugou, Ashido, Kirshima and Kaminari had been the only ones to stay up with them until that point. Shinsou was also there but he had spent the better part of the last hour asleep with his head in Kaminari’s lap while the latter ran his hand through the unruly purple hair, so he didn’t really count.

Actually, Bakugou seemed to be the only one still fully awake, despite his tendency to go to bed much earlier than everyone else. He’d never admit to it, but he had been worried, Iida didn’t have to know Bakugou well to know that much.

“Thank you,” Iida said, careful not to wake Sero up as he spoke.

Bakugou just looked at him and huffed. “I didn’t do it for you, nerd.”

“I’m grateful nonetheless, do you want a hand getting everyone up to their rooms?”

“They can take themselves, just take him upstairs.”

Iida pretended not to notice the lack of his usual nicknames as he turned back to Sero, shaking his shoulder lightly.

“No,” Sero mumbled, turning to bury his face further into Iida’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Sero turned his head upwards to give Iida a pointed look through his messy and now dry hair. “You’re gonna make me get up.”

“Correct.”

“No.”

Iida leaned down until his mouth was level with Sero’s ear. “If we go upstairs we can cuddle,” he whispered in a low voice.

Sero hummed. “Really? Lead the way, Class Prez.”

It was not a complicated process to scoop Sero up and into his arms, one arm under his back, the other curled behind his knees. Sero’s weight was a comfort to have resting against Iida’s chest as he walked them to the elevator.

It was times like this that he was glad his boyfriend weighed the same as a bunch of grapes. On a good day, Iida could easily lift the heavier members of their class, but at that moment he was beyond exhausted and he wasn’t sure if he could even carry Sero much further than up to his dorm.

The elevator ride up to the fifth floor passed by quickly, and Iida easily made his way to Sero’s dorm.

If Iida had to wager a guess who had put the extra blankets on the bed and arranged what looked like a care basket on the little table in the middle of the room, he would put all of his money on Ashido. She notoriously would pick on and tease the other members of the Bakusquad but she had proven herself to be incredibly thoughtful and considerate on multiple occasions.

He would have to remember to thank her in the morning.

For now, his only goal was getting his boyfriend into bed. After everything, Iida felt like he could sleep for a week, figuring that Sero was not going to object to that plan.

Setting Sero down on the bed, Iida moved to pull the blankets on top of his partner. As he tucked the edge of the blankets under his boyfriend’s chin, he moved to smooth the furrow in Sero’s brows with his thumb.

Sero blinked up at Iida then. His black eyes found blue ones in the low lighting. “Are you staying?”

“Sure,” Iida said. He had been planning to sleep in the hammock, giving Sero space but also being close enough to verify that he was safe.

“Not in the hammock,” Sero said sternly, narrowing his eyes at Iida. “You said we could cuddle.”

Iida sighed, there was no use trying to argue, he was putty in Sero’s hands. “Little spoon or big spoon?”

“Little spoon.”

Sero pulled the blankets back as he shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, making room for Iida to slot himself into place behind him. It wasn’t the smoothest job of sharing the bed that they’ve ever done but Iida eventually settled in, sliding his arms around Sero and holding him close to his chest.

Iida buried his face in the crook of Sero’s neck, breathing in the scent of his boyfriend. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he mumbled into his shoulder.

He felt Sero’s soft laugh against his chest. “Me too. I can’t have some dude hitting you up with a ‘he would want you to move on’, you’re mine forever.”

“Forever,” Iida said, tightening his hold around Sero ever so slightly.

Sero hummed, the sound was low in his throat and Iida could feel the vibration of it against his skin. “Forever.”

Iida was lounging on Sero’s bed, not quite bothering to get up just yet. His eyes trailed Sero’s movements as the older boy circled his room. He had a check in with Recovery Girl in an hour so he was intent on getting changed himself. After the past few days, the soreness and exhaustion were starting to ease and he was a lot more mobile.

And that’s how Iida ended up face-to-face with a shirtless Sero who was still trying to figure out what shirt he wanted to wear as Iida’s eyes zeroed in on the dark purple bruising covering the front of his boyfriend’s chest.

It looked painful but Sero paid it no mind.

“Hanta?” Iida called out, sitting up with a much more tense posture than he had had moments ago.

“Hmm?”

“Are those bruises?”

Sero looked at Iida for a moment, confused, before looking down at his chest and giving his boyfriend a chuckle and a shrug. “Oh, those, yeah. I assume they’re from you, y’know, restarting my heart.” He paused, running a hand through his messy black hair. “Thanks for that by the way.”

“No problem…” Iida trailed off, starting at the mottled discolouration on Sero’s chest. He wondered if it had really hit Sero yet, truly how close the older boy had come to losing his life only two days ago.

The two of them had been excused from classes for at least a few days unless Sero was feeling up to going to class before then. Sero’s absence for the purpose of rest and recuperation, Iida’s to keep an eye on his boyfriend and look out for any symptoms of secondary drowning or pneumonia. He helped Sero to remember to take his antibiotics as well as just helping him do tasks that were a little too strenuous.

Aizawa had given them a stern look and told them to call him if they needed to or if they were worried about something. He’d also told the two of them that they had appointments with Hound Dog scheduled for them on the following Monday.

The rest of the class had informed the two of them that all training exercises had been suspended for the rest of the week until any changes to improve student safety could be made. Iida did not envy the meetings that Aizawa was undoubtedly going to be sitting through in the week to come.

“You know, you could always blame those on Aizawa-sensei,” Iida said, hoping to lighten the dark look that had crossed Sero’s face.

Sero blanched. “Aizawa-sensei saw me without a shirt on.”

Iida couldn’t help but to raise his eyebrows at the shift in mood. “I think that was the least of his concerns.”

“I can’t show my face ever again,” Sero groaned, flopping face first onto the bed. Only to let out another groan and roll onto his back, rubbing a free hand on his chest that had undoubtedly protested the motion.

“You are being dramatic.”

Sero rounded on Iida, giving him a serious look. “Do you think he noticed that my nipples are uneven?”

Iida just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up. “Your nipples are not uneven, Hanta.”

Sero nodded sagely. “Yaomomo definitely noticed.”

Iida threw a pillow at his boyfriend.

#bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #mha fanfiction #mha fic #seroiida #seriida #iidasero #iisero #nyoomtape #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #sero hanta #iida tenya

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

fathers.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it turns out the words really do fly out of you when you write in comic sans. who knew? anyways, here’s a little sunday morning angst for you. starts sweet, ends sweet. takes place au!may 2016.

words: 1.8k warnings: discussion of abuse and alcoholism (nothing too graphic)

summary: “‘why do men like me want sons?’ he wondered. ‘it must be because they hope in their poor beaten souls that these new men, who are their blood, will do the things they were not strong enough nor wise enough nor brave enough to do. it is rather like another chance at life; like a new bag of coins at a table of luck after your fortune is gone.’” – john steinbeck

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Aaron walks in from a very long day at the office to find you and Sean crashed out on the couch. Isaac’s asleep, too, sprawled out on his back in his Pack ‘n Play. He can hear Jack shuffling around in his room, probably on the tablet or working on homework.

Sean has the remote loosely gripped in his hand, hanging off the edge of the couch. His head is in your lap, one of your hands in his hair, and your body curled around his shoulders. You look more like a pair of siblings or long-lost childhood friends than anyone Aaron’s ever seen - certainly more so than he would in the same situation.

He almost envies the familiarity you and Sean have between you. Your friendship is easy and automatic - always has been.

How can two people, seemingly so similar, feel so starkly different about him?

Aaron’s not quite sure how long he’s been standing there watching as you two sleep like a pair of house cats. Eventually, you stir with a furrowed brow, squinting into the late afternoon sunshine.

When you find Aaron’s eyes, you smile widely and wink at him. After some delicate maneuvering in which you replace your thighs with a couch cushion and your arm with a throw blanket, you’re free of Sean’s weight and you can finally tuck into your husband.

He kisses your head and wraps his arms around you. “How was your day?”

“Good.” You burrow further into his chest. “Sean and I talked.”

Aaron dips his head. “Oh?”

“Mhmm.” You pat his chest twice and kiss his cheek. “Later.”

+++

“Sean talked to me about your dad today.”

Aaron freezes where he sits at the edge of the bed. You don’t mean to ambush him, but there’d never be a good time, so out with it was your best option.

He shudders as if a chill ran through him, but the room was warm and free of drafts. Sean warned you that this might be the reaction. Even then, he only told you about his experience with the patriarch of the Hotchner household. When you’d asked about Aaron, he only paled and shook his head.

“Ask him about it, but I won’t… I can’t do that to him,” he’d said.

So you have. And now you wait.

Aaron’s voice is a croak when he speaks. “What -” He clears his throat. “What did he say?”

You turn toward him, tucking your legs close to you and pulling the duvet up. “He told me a little about what it was like for him growing up.”

“Just him?”

“Just him. He wouldn’t say anything about your relationship with your father, nor about your childhood. I didn’t push.”

You pause for a moment. He’s still frozen, but his breath picks up. Not for the first time, you notice the silver lines - scars - across his back.

Long-healed and decades-old.

“I realized in that moment that it’s one of the few things I don’t know about you. I knew, even when I first met you, never to ask and you never told. You’ve alluded to things over the years on cases, and I’ve seen the unique kind of loathing you have for unsubs who hurt their children.” Your voice is low, Isaac sleeping in his crib beside the bed, almost old enough to sleep in the nursery.

You hear Aaron’s breath catch and you lean forward, putting your hand beside his hip so he knows you’re there.

“I’ve known not to ask for so long that I never did.”

A huff leaves him. “You’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t expect to,” you reply simply.

Aaron’s hand wanders back to find your own and he grasps your fingers like a lifeline. Eventually, he turns, sitting in the middle of the bed like a child, his legs crisscrossed with his feet nearly underneath him.

He stares at the bedspread as he tells you about his father. A charming, handsome lawyer with a wicked vodka habit. That particular wicked habit fed into his other one - a liberal use of his belt as a tool of discipline.

Aaron tells you about the day he was old enough to step between his parents, to take whatever his father had to throw - sometimes literally - on behalf of his mother. Evelyn did her best, kept the house together and her boys as safe as she could. It didn’t always work.

She’d thought, Aaron shared with you, that a second child would soothe whatever hurt tortured her husband.

Aaron never resented her. Especially after starting his work as a lawyer and later as an agent, he understands how difficult - really, impossible - it is to leave those situations when you have children.

As his parents struggled to conceive, his father grew worse. By the time Evelyn had Sean, Aaron was thankfully old enough to wrangle his father into a cold shower and into bed most nights before he could get violent. He was thirteen.

“It was almost a relief - it was a relief - when his body finally failed him. I was barely in college when he died, and I graduated early. Sean was still little, so I don’t know what he remembers.”

Aaron sits for a moment, thinking. “If I could hazard a guess, I’d say it was the shouting.” He shakes his head. “We were always shouting.”

You’re both in tears now, but your crying is silent and his tears hardly disrupt his breath.

“Almost everyone at his funeral was someone he worked with. They, of course, loved him. His functional alcoholism served to make him affable enough to make and keep friends at the law firm. They had no idea what happened after he came home.”

He takes another breath. “I did my best to protect Sean after our father died, to keep him safe. I know he resented me for it - might still resent me for it - but he’s alive. And so is my mom.”

You can’t imagine what Evelyn’s been through, the peace she’s probably had in the decades she’s spent widowed. How the Hotchner line managed to survive - managed to become as kind and genuine and loving as they are - is close to a miracle.

You tell him as much.

He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, looking very much like the lost boy who took on too much, too fast, too early. “I don’t know how.”

“Because,’ you say, leaning forward and crawling into his lap and wrapping around him like a koala. “You are a better man, Aaron. You won.”

His breath is unsteady as he clasps his arms around you, his hands locked around his opposite forearms.

“You’re a great brother, a fantastic husband, an exceptional father.” You lean back so you can frame his face in your hands. “You wanna know something?”

He just stares at you.

“I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard you raise your voice at a member of our team or your family.” Your thumbs brush over his cheekbones as his eyes flutter shut. “You are a strong and gentle leader who relies on integrity rather than force to win respect.”

You kiss his cheek and hook your chin over his shoulder, holding him as close as you can. “We’re never afraid of you. Your sons can’t wait for you to come home. They’re thrilled when they hear your keys in the door.”

He sniffles. “I’m afraid...”

Leaning back again, you grip his jaw with a kind of gentle ferocity, forcing his gaze. “Aaron. Look me in the eye and tell me what your sons could do to push you to beat them, to physically discipline them. What would they have to do?”

He meets your eyes, shifty and shadowed like a wild animal, and stares at you without speaking. After a moment, the wildness fades and his lower lip wobbles as he exhales.

That’s enough of an answer for you.

“Can’t find anything, can you?”

Aaron shakes his head. He’s barely audible.

“No.”

“No,” you echo, your voice gentle and soft. Bringing his head back to your shoulder, you hold onto him, running your hands over his shoulders to soothe some of his shaking.

Isaac snuffles and stirs, drawing your attention. Aaron looks up too, his eyes searching for his son.

“Lemme get him,” he says. You untangle yourself and shuffle to the edge of the bed, looking over the edge of the crib. Knowing Isaac, he probably just wants snuggles. He’s the snuggliest baby you’ve ever known.

His father’s son, certainly.

Aaron rounds the crib and leans down, bringing Isaac to his chest. “Hey, little man. You alright?”

Isaac makes a little creaky baby noise and grabs Aaron’s shirt in a death grip.

There are still tears streaked down Aaron’s cheeks and his breath is still a little unsteady, but he’s relaxed as he gently rocks Isaac around the room, shifting his weight from side to side. In his father's arms, Isaac falls right to sleep.

+++

Aaron’s night is fitful, but after you curl up at his side he manages to close his eyes and rest.

You’re up before him in the morning - a rarity - finding Isaac awake and holding onto his own feet in the crib, staring up at the ceiling.

My boy. Always happy to entertain himself.

You pick him up and carry him out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. At this point, you’ve perfected the one-armed carry thanks to Aaron, and it usually comes in handy.

Jack and Sean are already awake, making cereal so quietly the bowls probably deserve their own top-secret clearance.

“Good morning, boys,” you say with a smile.

“Morning, Mom,” they drone, in tandem, before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

With a laugh, you find your own bowl and Sean pours your cereal just the way you like it while you pull a bottle for Isaac.

The four of you eat breakfast in relative peace. It’s nice to have Sean here with you for more than one reason, but for now, it’s because he’s holding Isaac’s bottle so you can eat with one hand. One hand, you've learned, is decidedly better than no hands at all.

Aaron rolls into the kitchen about ten minutes after you, looking rumpled and squinty in the morning sun.

“Coffee’s on, honey.”

He mumbles his thanks and you share a smile with Sean.

“He’s predictable,” you explain in a half-whisper.

Sean nods, playing at something pensive. “And old.”

“Heard that.”

You and Sean share a look and a smile. You look over your shoulder. "Heard what?"

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @writefasttalkevenfaster @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @cevanswhre @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @ceceguajardo-blog @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #abuse tw #a joyful future fanfic

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

Note

Can you make hcs of Riddle, Malleus, Leona, Kalim and Azul dating a gender neutral MC with a reverse sense of gravity? They usually need to use something as a support to not just float skyward (If you need more reference i got that idea from a movie called "Patema Inverted")

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Kalim Al-Asim...

...thinks it sounds like fun to always be floating! You’re like a human-shaped balloon or something!

Kalim calls you his Little Cloud. You’re so soft and fluffy like one, and light as a feather to boot!

He will gift you lots of jewelry--gold anklets, ruby lined necklaces and belts dripping with diamonds. They look quite flashy, but they serve a purpose--“It’s all kinda heavy!” Kalim chirps as he adorns you with a circlet, “so it should keep you grounded~” Oh, but his favorite piece on you has to be this bracelet with little bells that jingle when you move. Kalim loves hearing it, because it means you’re not too far behind!

Insists on holding your hand everywhere you go! Kalim doesn’t want you drifting away from him, now!

If he ever catches you staring longingly at the sky, there’s no problem at all! Just hang on tight, and Kalim will be more than happy to take you for a magic carpet ride into the wild blue yonder that you cherish so.

Azul Ashengrotto...

...believes your inverted sense of gravity to be highly inconvenient. He wonders how you manage to live with it!

He’s a busy octopus, so he cannot always be available to help you. However, Azul leaves you with a lilac jacket made of the same material as a weighted blanket. As long as you have that over your shoulders, it will keep you both warm and grounded.

Most of your dates are indoors--Azul would fret too much if you wandered about in wide open spaces! Be prepared to spend hours watching the fish swim by in the Mostro Lounge, or nestled up next to Azul in an armchair as you pore over the same book.

When you’re in public together, Azul prefers to keep one arm around your shoulder, keeping you close by his side.

Once, you shared an upside down kiss in the rain. Don’t ask how, circumstances just...led to it. Ever since then, Azul has been scheming of a way to casually recreate that experience.

Leona Kingscholar...

...is almost always with you. Part of it is because he is protective, and part of it is because you might float up, up, and away if he doesn’t!

Leona will keep you grounded with his own body. He’ll drape himself all over you to keep you from going wayward--head on your lap, arms around your waist, head on your shoulder, tail around your wrist...

Even in his sleep, Leona subconsciously grips you, not wanting to part from your side for one second. Besides, it helps him rest better as well, so it’s a win-win for him.

Miracle of miracles! Leona actually attends classes because of you, not wanting others to encroach on what’s his (after all, if he’s not around, then you’d have to grab some random mob student for support)! ...But on days when he is too lazy (even for you), Ruggie will have to make do as a substitute.

In his moments of weakness, Leona gets especially cuddly, nuzzling up really close and murmuring about how he doesn’t want to lose you. He has already lost so much in his life, and he doesn’t want the one thing he loves so much to disappear into the void too.

Malleus Draconia...

...watches over you like he’s your fairy godmother.

He knows you can take care of yourself, of course (how else would you have survived thus far if you could not?), but he cannot help but worry about you anyway. Malleus tends to loom around the corner and lunges for you if you start to float off.

Often goes out of his way to get you gifts to make your life easier, but his tastes are a bit outdated and not very practical. For example, Malleus once gave you a pair of cement shoes (they used to be all the rage back in the day), and you had to explain to him that there was no way you could walk in them.

Malleus jokes that you are his Daydream--and he must hold fast to you, lest you flee from his sight. His favorite way of holding you is by hooking his arms around your waist and pulling you back to fall against his chest.

He enjoys floating and watching the world below with you. Everything looks so different from up there, especially since he is seeing it with you. It’s like Twisted Wonderland is a whole new world.

Riddle Rosehearts...

...thinks your condition to be rather curious! Why, it defies all laws of physics--how is that even possible?! Then again, he is also a curious one for falling in love with you, now isn’t he?

Riddle offers you his arm to latch onto in case you ever need something to grab for support!

For your anniversary, Riddle gifts you a golden pocket watch. You keep it in your breastpocket, the steady tick-tick and weight keeping you grounded, much like your boyfriend’s pragmatism does.

Fusses over you to no end! He even writes up a whole new set of rules for the Heartslabyul dorm to follow whenever you have dropped by for a visit, which includes a clause about leaving furniture scattered about so that there’s always something for you to cling to. There’s also another rule about not hitting or poking you with a broomstick to get you down from the ceiling!

If you’re attending an Unbirthday party, Riddle will maneuver everything indoors. He’ll pull out your chair for you and place several folded napkins in your lap (more weight to keep you in your seat!) before even doing so much as offer you a scone.

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

Text

The Scar

Requested by the awesome @gothicsprinkles who wanted funny and soft and only got... embarrassment instead xD Forgive me!

It’s really warm so Corin doesn’t bother wearing his shirt to bed. He knows he will have a human Mandalorian heater attaching himself to Corin the second they settle for the night and if he’s going to get any sleep with Din doing that in this kind of temperature, Corin has to wear as few layers as possible.

After a quick check on the little bean, sound asleep in his crib, Corin crawls into bed and settles next to where Din is propped up by pillows and is waiting to attack.

He’s not wearing his armor, only his helmet and the layers of regular clothing, feeling secure in the bosom of the Covert, and it’s nice to see him somewhat relaxed for a change. It would be even nicer to see him entirely relaxed in just a t-shirt and sweatpants like Corin usually wears to bed, but Corin knows not to press his good luck. This is good. It’s more than enough.

To Corin’s surprise, Din doesn’t just attach himself to him like a shady rumor, but lies on his side, removes his right glove and reaches out to draw light fingertips over the scar left by a blaster shot that should have claimed Corin’s life but ended up saving it in countless ways instead.

Corin sucks in his stomach a little, despite knowing he’s never been in better shape in his life. He just can’t help it.

“You were a Trooper for so many years,” Din mumbles, his touch light on the scar and soon trailing over his abs, “how is it that you have so few scars?”

Looking down at his own torso, Corin knows the answer but he’s not proud of it. “At first, I had good luck and… friends on my side. That kept me safe most of the time.” He holds out his arm and shows a barely visible scar, a really faint line across his upper arm. “I did take a shot to the arm once, though.” Corin lowers his arm and places his hand on Din’s back instead. “After they… After that, I just made sure not to be at the front wherever we were sent. There were plenty of young idiots like me looking to make a name for themselves and play the hero, I just let them. They were the ones who got the scars. Or got killed. I just focused on getting my ass transferred to the Blizzard Force.”

Din’s helmet nods thoughtfully.

“What’s the scar on your back from?” Corin asks, having seen and noticed it earlier when they… well, he’d noticed it.

“Oh, that.” Din gives a quiet, amused laugh. “Well, it was my third bounty job and-”

His life as a Mandalorian has left Din with a whole bunch of scars and one crazy story after another to go with them. Corin goes from smothering laughter behind a hand to staring with horrified wonder at how this man is still alive.

“What about that one?” Corin eventually asks, reaching out and pulling Din’s sleeve up a little to reveal a thin, modest scar on his underarm.

“That? That’s nothing. Nothing at all. Ignore that one.” Din tugs his sleeve down and covers it back up. He turns to trail fingertips over Corin’s scar in silence.

At first, Corin’s gut instinct is to apologize, thinking he’d overstepped and accidentally uncovered some painful memory, but then his brain points out how there had been no hurt or defensiveness to Din’s voice. No, it has sounded more like… embarrassment?

Corin’s curiosity sits up and pays attention.

“Din…” Corin drawls, sliding his hand up from Din’s back to gently squeeze the man’s neck and has him arching into the touch with a faint sound of approval. “Din, tell me about the scar on your arm…”

“It’s nothing.” Din mumbles. Definitely embarrassed!

“Come on…” Corin whines playfully, shaking Din a little by the scruff. “Tell meeeeeee…”

Din answers by manhandling Corin over on his side so Din can curl up behind him and hold him tight, too tight to squirm away. “I told you, it was nothing. Sleep now. You’re tired.”

“I’m not tired. Tell me about the scar on your arm, Din Djarin.”

“Shhhhh.” Din shushes him and when Corin lifts his head to glare back at him, Din shoves it back down against the pillow. “Shhhhhh.”

Fine. Din wins the battle, but he has not won the war.

Paz has picked his laser cannon apart and is cleaning each piece with as much affection as he shows Raga. He glances up with mild surprise when Corin sits down next to him in the common area. “What do you want?”

Corin glances over and sees Din is busy talking to aforementioned Raga by the door and decides to go for it. “Din has a scar on his right arm. His underarm. Do you know how he got it?”

Several things happen at once. Paz sits up straight, Din makes a startled sound and bolts towards them, and Raga trips Din.

Corin hears Din’s impact with the ground, his furious shout when Raga holds him down with a painful knee to his lower back and the frankly scary strength of her arms, but his focus is on Paz who draws a long and deep breath like a man about to tell a story worth hearing.

“He hasn’t told you about that, has he?” Paz says, reaching out and placing an oil-covered and heavy hand on Corin’s shoulder. “Allow me.”

“Paz, I will shoot you in the face!” Din shouts.

“Is that any way to talk to your brother?” Raga tuts and shoves his helmet down, visor first, to smack against the floor.

“I was fifteen when I got my first jetpack and my father started training me.” Paz sounds nostalgic, before giving a faint shake of his helmet and sighing as he gestures towards Din. “Back then, Din was a little twig who had yet to take the Creed and he was ‘not’ happy about that.”

Din tries to buck Raga off but can only bite back a pained, but mostly angry, sound when she digs her knee in deeper and wrings one of his arms.

“So, one night,” Paz continues, sliding his arm around Corin’s shoulders and maneuvering him over to sit next to him so they both can look at Din, “the little womp rat decided he was going to grab my jetpack and show everyone how he was a natural talent at flying. That he was as good as the older children.”

Corin struggles against a smile. “Is that so?”

Even Raga cackles as she has to grab Din’s other arm as well to keep him pinned down when he struggles even harder to free himself.

“Indeed.” Paz says. “The brat wormed his way into my room, grabbed my jetpack, went into the hallway and put it on. That pack was designed for me, not his baby-ass, which meant that when he activated it at full throttle, it went as well as you can probably imagine.”

Corin is losing the fight against not laughing.

“I woke up to his scream growing fainter as he zoomed down the hallway.” Paz says. “I ran out and saw jetfire and his tiny feet as they blew around a corner and I ‘knew’ what had just happened. I chased after him. If he had been keeping a steady course, I would never have been able to catch up, but lucky for both of us; Din managed to bump into every door, both walls and occasionally the ceiling as he raced down the hallway. Screaming his head off. Eventually I caught up with him in one of the training rooms that had been left open and he decided to end his journey by flying smack up into the corner of the room and get stuck in one of the climbing ropes up there.”

“By now the grown ups are gearing up and preparing for battle because they think we’re under attack.” Raga supplies with glee.

Din gives up fighting and just drops his helmet, visor first yet again, to the floor with a thump.

“Din was bawling, the adults were freaking out, so it was up to me to save the day.” Paz’ voice is brimming with obnoxious delight. “I climbed up there, managed to untangle the little idiot and got him ‘and’ my jetpack down. Luckily his thick head hadn’t suffered too much during his rodeo, but he had busted up his arm pretty good. He was wailing so loud it took about two minutes before Davarax found us and he wasn’t happy.” A fond laughter. “He had to explain to the rest of the Tribe it had only been an illegal jetpack joyride, not an actual invasion by outsiders, while I had to bring the troublemaker to the bone-setter and wipe snot and tears off that face of his.”

Din is thumping his helmet regularly against the floor before he suddenly lifts his t-visor to glare at Paz. “I hate you.”

Paz stares at Din for a heartbeat and a half, then turns his t-visor to Corin. “Has he told you about his first dancing lesson?”

“PAZ!” Din’s bellow echoes through the entire building.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Poor Din #Curious Corin #the one-shots start coming and they don't stop coming

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bisexualcrowley · 4 years

Text

Undercover

Pairing: Harry Hart x Fem! reader

Summary: While doing surveillance at a gala, Y/n and Harry's identities are threatened to be uncovered and they take to a rather intimate method of hiding their faces

Content/warnings: smutty themes? nsfw, fluffy stuff, cursing, suggestive themes, semi-public foreplay/teasing, making out, Merlin’s still alive bc i want him to be

Word count: 3,729

“A Gala. In the middle of winter, this means I might have to fight in heels, is this really necessary Merlin?” Y/n sighed, glancing out at the light drifting of snow that had begun to flutter down from the sky. Its not that she had anything against winter, the woman mused to herself, just that it makes this sort of work so much more difficult.

The year had been tough enough already, having lost Harry to Valentine, getting Harry back, the whole issue with the Golden Circle, and the constant stress was getting to Y/n, the smallest thing now able to piss her off, and unfortunately for her, this latest mission seemed to be more than a small thing. “C’mon Y/n, i know we all could use some rest but this is important, the target is threatening to release catastrophic amounts of classified government information. I’m not asking you to be on the front line here, I just need you and Galahad on the sidelines, more as surveillance and backup than anything else.”

Y/n had been less than impressed with Merlin’s words, wanting to stay as far away as possible from field work until she had gotten a decent amount of sleep, but her ears perked up at the mention of her best friend and previous partner at Kingsman.

“You’re letting Harry in the field again?”

She asked, surprised at the man’s words. “I thought you said he wasn’t ready yet, after the problems he had while working alongside the American agents.

“Not fully, as i said, the two of you will just be keeping tabs on him from the crowd, not making contact unless absolutely necessary.” Merlin must have picked up on Y/n’s eagerness to work alongside Harry again and allowed himself a slight smile as he spoke, sliding the paperwork across the table to the younger agent. “This place is fancy, i mean really fancy, you’re gonna want to look your very best. Go over his papers today and be here dressed and ready at 20:30 tomorrow. And I mean it, y/n, be dressed to kill, in more than just the metaphoric sense”

Most of her annoyance having melted away at the mention of Harry, Y/n agreed, taking the papers and shaking Merlin’s hand before turning on her heel and jogging down the hall of the Kingsman offices, hoping to find her friend. Luckily Y/n didn’t need to search far, finding him in the actual tailor section of the building being fit for a tuxedo.

Y/n caught Harry’s eye in the mirror in front of him and she shot him a grin, leaning casually against the door frame. “Lookin’ good, Galahad. Excited to be headin’ back into it?” She asked, affection shining in her smile at the sight of Harry Hart suiting up for battle once again.

It was no secret among many of the Kingsman agents that Y/n had fallen hard for the man, her feelings becoming clear to them when Harry was shot as she had broken down in tears at the news despite being one of Kingsman’s toughest agents, however she did manage to keep the secret from Harry himself, terrified of losing the relationship they already had by revealing her feelings only to find that they weren’t reciprocated.

Eggsy and Merlin, of course, had required a fair amount of bribery to be convinced to keep their mouths shut, finding the whole situation more than amusing and wanting nothing more than to spill the beans to Harry, whom they were fully convinced shared y/n’s feelings. Y/n didn’t crack though, and eventually the men had settled on the childish teasing of Y/n and placing bets on who would make the first move. Eggsy had put 50 pounds on Y/n cracking first, but Merlin put his money on Harry, having said something about Eggsy underestimating the woman.

At the moment, despite her refusal to share her feelings with Harry, Y/n feared that Eggsy was going to be the one to win the wager as she felt her heart beat faster at the happy smile Harry had offered her in return. “Looking forward to be working alongside you again, Y/n, it’s been lonely without my partner”

Y/n felt her face heat up at the compliment, but determined not to let her resolve fail she once again held back the words she wanted so badly to tell her friend, instead choosing to push herself off the doorframe and saunter over to Harry’s position in the center of the room. “So... A gala. Haven’t done one of these together in ages, have we.” Y/n’s hand came to rest on Harry’s shoulder, still not having broken their eye contact through the mirror. “It has been a while, although luckily, I never forgot how to dance”

Y/n’s confident exterior faltered at his words, tilting her head to the side and eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “We have to dance?” She asked, voice coming out far quieter than she had hoped. Harry let out a very ungentlemanly laugh at her shock, turning his gaze from the mirror to meet his friend’s eyes properly. “I’d assume Merlin didn’t tell you for this very reason, y/n” He chuckled. “We’d stick out too much, standing in the middle of a ballroom. To draw the least amount of attention to our position, we’re gonna have to dance”

Y/n froze for a moment, weighing her options. On one hand, she thought, I’m dancing with Harry. On the other hand, i’m dancing. In public. What a terrifying thought, i should just tell Merlin i won’t do it. But if i don’t do it, i don’t dance with Harry.

She squinted slightly, fighting herself for which option was better, but in the end decided that the upside of pretending to be Harry’s date outweighed the negatives in the situation, and after another moment of hesitation, Y/n nodded, nervously drumming her fingers on the man’s shoulder.

“Alright then. If we’re gonna dance, we’re gonna do it right. I’m gonna go find a dress, i guess. See you tomorrow, Galahad” Y/n breathed, a hint of humor making it’s way into her words as she went on, which to her luck Harry picked up on, and replied with an exaggerated salute, earning him a giggle and smile from Y/n before she slung on a coat and took off again.

Lucky for her the London streets were nearly empty, most seeking cover from the bitter cold within the comfort of their homes, and the trip to her own home was quick for Y/n. Almost immediately upon arriving, she threw open the doors of her closet, flicking through hanger after hanger of clothes that Merlin would be less than happy about her wearing to such a prestigious event. It appeared that luck was still on her side, however, as Y/n paused, pulling out a dress previously hidden behind a thick winter coat. It was beautiful, a slim gown of deep green velvet with a loose, plunging neckline and thin black straps with a shimmering gold woven throughout, and y/n smiled, knowing it would be perfect for the following night.

The next day passed quickly, Y/n having to study the target’s file, shower, do her hair and makeup, fit a variety of concealed weaponry on her person, and what felt to her like a million other things, and it felt like no time at all before she found herself outside the Kingsman Tailor shop, glittering heels clicking along the icy sidewalk leading up to the building. Y/n reached for the door handle, shivering slightly in the cold but was met with the door swinging open in her face, Merlin staring down at her with Eggsy, Tequila and Harry behind him.

“Y/n, you’re late, c’mon, there’s a car waiting in the back, c’mon lets go” Merlin ushered her along, the group rounding the building to find a black towncar waiting in the alley. It took a bit of maneuvering to fit everyone into the vehicle, coats bunching up in the small space, but eventually the group situated themselves in a somewhat comfortable fashion, and they were off.

The drive was longer than Y/n had expected, but no time was spent relaxing, having found herself rather distracted by her body being pressed against a very well dressed Harry, the cramped space forcing her leg to shift up onto Harry’s so that she was sitting partially on his lap, a position that had the both of them blushing furiously and Tequila chuckling from Harry’s left.

Hoping to distract from the uncomfortable and unfortunately mildly arousing way she was seated, Y/n leaned forward to peer past Harry and raised an eyebrow at the American agent, who in return mimicked her expression, which brought a mix of annoyance and amusement to the still blushing woman. “Mind if i ask why Harry was forced into the middle seat? Last time i checked, i’d fit a fair bit better” Y/n asked, Harry humming in agreement with her statement.

“Why, you wanna sit on my lap instead?” Tequila smirked, earning a snort of laughter from Eggsy and Merlin in the front seat and a glare from Y/n, where Harry shifted uncomfortably and blushed harder.

Y/n’s snapped back, but her retort was cut short at the feeling of the car slowing to a stop and Merlin leaning over the drivers seat to run over the night’s details one last time.

The plan went smoothly from then, Eggsy and Tequila positioning themselves near the main doorways and Merlin settling himself behind a computer, leaving Harry and Y/n to shed their coats and make their way further into the ballroom. A string quartet was set in the middle of the north wall, playing what y/n recognized immediately to be a slower rendition of the seal lullaby, and she fought the urge to twirl around a couple times, instead smoothing out her dress and holding out a hand to Harry.

“Well Mr. Hart, may i have this dance?” Y/n spoke calmly, careful to avoid appearing overly enthusiastic so as not to draw unnecessary attention to the pair, but the warmth shining in her eyes was undisguisable to Harry, who took her arm with a smile and led her to their position in the ballroom.

The image of the two Kingsman agents settling into a graceful mix of a waltz and a simple slow dance was reflected off the marble floors, creating what would have been a beautiful photo had there been a photographer near them and y/n relished in the moment, hand clasped with Harry’s, his hand pulling her waist to his as they swayed to the music.

Harry caught Y/n’s eye as he caught her after a spin, a grin breaking through his character that made her heart flutter. The song slowed to it’s end and the couple for the night paused, the taller figure dipping y/n and freezing, their faces inches apart. Y/n felt her breath hitch in her chest, heart pounding at the intimate position they had paused in.

Her eyes met Harry’s again, the latter panting slightly, his pupil dilated and face flushed red, and dear god it turned Y/n on. Biting her tongue to hold back what would have been a rather humiliating moan, she rested her weight into Harry’s arms, allowing herself a second to catch her breath. As the next song began, Harry shook himself out of whatever state he was in and pulled y/n back up against him, resuming the dance like nothing had happened. Y/n, still flustered, tried to distract herself by shooting a glance towards their target, who had moved from lingering by the side entrance to scanning the crowd from a nearby refreshment table. As the song reached a peak Harry spun y/n around again, but this time around her heel caught on the seam of her dress and she stumbled, accidentally turning away from her partner. Quickly righting herself, Y/n returned to her previous stance, but not before making brief yet intense eye contact with the man they were watching. “Shit... Merlin do you have eyes on the target? I might have just fucked us over” Y/n’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper, eyes blown wide with horror at the prospect of ruining Harry’s first real taste of action since the Golden Circle incident.

“Hang on, hang on, don’t abort mission yet” Merlin muttered through her earpiece, y/n hearing the clacking of keys as the older agent fussed with the security cameras

“Fuckin hell, Galahad, Y/n, he’s coming your way. Hold your position, we don’t blow your cover unless we’re 100% sure he knows who you are. Keep dancing, but don’t let him see your face”

Merlin’s voice cut across the earpiece again, and by the way y/n felt Harry's shoulders tense she knew he heard the message too.

“Shit, what do we do?” she hissed back, watching her partner risk a glance to the left and finding the target moving smoothly through the crowd, eyes set on the couple.

“Keep dancing, stay inconspicuous for as long as possible, if we’re lucky he’ll just pass on by. Now i’ll say it again, don’t let him see your bloody faces.” Merlin’s voice was low, and Y/n couldn’t stop the nervous feeling they caused from setting in as she watched the man grow nearer out of the corner of her eye.

“Merlin i don’t know what you expect us to do here if it’s so imperative we don’t move from this spot, we can’t just-”

Y/n tuned out Harry’s urgent whispers as a solution came to mind, eyes widening at the ridiculousness her own mind had come up with, but not seeing a better solution she shushed him, placing a finger over his lips.

Harry looked confused but went along with it, cocking an eyebrow in silent questioning and giving her shoulder a soft squeeze as the man drew closer, nearly close enough to get a good look at the pair, and y/n knew she had to make her move. With a quick whisper of “forgive me for this Harry”, Y/n brought her hands up to cup her friend’s face and pulled him into a kiss. Harry froze momentarily, his jaw tensing in shock before he followed her lead and returned the kiss, their lips moving against each others perfectly in sync and y/n couldn’t keep herself from sighing into the kiss, unconsciously pressing her body closer to his.

Harry deepened the kiss, his hands moving to thread through her hair and a vague thought reminded Y/n he was just helping to conceal her face, but it was shoved quickly to the back of her mind with a particularly passionate movement from Harry which she met enthusiastically. Her hands inched upwards to tug at his perfectly styled hair, which earned Y/n a low moan against her lips, and she pressed closer again, unconsciously slipping her leg between Harry’s. She felt his cock twitch against her thigh and all thoughts of what they were there to do flew out the window, one hand clasping at the collar of his tuxedo’s jacket and the other cupping his cheek, pulling his face down to her own.

Feeling bold, Y/n made a move to nip at Harry’s lower lip but before she had the chance, they were interrupted by a more than amused Eggsy clearing his throat beside her. The pair flinched in surprise and pulled quickly out of the heated embrace, leaving Y/n wiping speared lipstick from her face and fixing disheveled hair, Harry somewhat discretely adjusting his clothing to hide the now quite sizable bulge in his trousers with a deep blush across his cheeks and Eggsy watching from the side, eyes tearing up from the effort of holding in his laughter.

“Merlin says good thinkin’, Y/n. The two’ve you were a bit busy to notice but Tequila got the guy, he went down nice n’ quiet, we’re supposed to get to the car as soon as possible” Eggsy had a shit eating grin plastered across his face as he spoke, which only got wider when Y/n gave Harry an awkward smile, which he returned briefly before shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at his shoes.

Snickering, Eggsy escorted the pair through the crowded room and through a series of side doors, which after a seemingly unnecessary number of hallways led to a back exit where the towncar that had brought them to the gala was waiting. Dreading what was sure to be an uncomfortable conversation with Harry, y/n winced at the thought of how inappropriate her actions towards her friend were, and she moved to open the passenger side door but was stopped by Eggsy once again, who flung open the door and threw himself in next to Merlin, who quite to her displeasure shared Eggsy’s smirk.

Y/n’s eyes locked with his, silently pleading to switch seats but her weak attempt proved to be in vain as Eggsy winked and pointed over his shoulder to the back of the car, where Harry was already seated. Y/n glared at Merlin but didn’t argue, and took a deep breath before sliding into the car, which to her luck was no longer so cramped due to the third agent having stayed behind with the target. The space was still smaller than she would have wished, but the cover of darkness provided a touch of comfort that y/n was endlessly grateful for.

Shadows crossed across her legs as the car rolled into gear, Merlin driving out of the alley and beginning the long journey back to the Kingsman headquarters. Y/n sighed, leaning her head against the window and closing her eyes, hoping the cold glass against her skin would help to drown out her racing thoughts.

Much to her dismay, however, they had been traveling for less than ten minutes when Eggsy turned around, leaning over his chair with the same wicked smile stretched across his face as he had worn before.

“So, you two had some fun t’night, didntcha?” Merlin let out a snort of laughter from beside him, Eggsy nodding his head suggestively between the pair in the backseat. Too tired to come up with a snarky reply, y/n simply rolled her eyes at Eggsy, and went back to working up the nerve to say something to the uncharacteristically silent figure seated beside her.

The realization that Harry was rarely this quiet around y/n outweighed her fear of confrontation, concern for her friend pulling her focus from Eggsy to the older man, and she turned to face him. Harry was sitting stiffly, hands clasped in his lap and head straight forward, but he must have been watching y/n out of the corner of his eye, as he looked to the side to meet her eyes when she turned from her position by the window to look up at him.

In that moment, the car was silent aside from the low rumble of the engine, the tension between the two growing from tolerable to an absolute peak, hanging thickly in the air between their bodies. It was thick enough, apparently for Eggsy to pick up on it, and with a chuckle about “giving you two some privacy”, he pressed a button beside his seat that caused a black divider to come up behind him, separating the front from the back of the car and leaving Y/n and Harry in silence.

Both Harry and Y/n stayed frozen in place, faces turned to each other and her eyes locked on his. Hesitantly, y/n placed a hand on Harry’s knee, a motion that years of friendship had taught him meant she had a lot to say, but didn’t yet know how to say it, and Harry nodded, the silent exchange sharing more than words would be able to.

“...I... I’m sorry, Harry, i shouldn’t have...” Y/n’s voice was low, barely above a whisper as she spoke, trailing off as the words caught in her throat.

"No, y/n, it was my mistake, i just...” Harry's voice faltered as well, fingers coming up to fuss nervously with the strap of his eyepatch, a habit y/n had noticed Harry picked up when he felt flustered.

Neither of them knew what had happened; one moment they were sitting in silence, y/n’s hand on his knee and tension high, and the next moment y/n found herself being pulled into Harry’s lap, her hands once again tugging at his hair as they met again in a heated kiss. Her dress had hiked up to her hips at this point, allowing Y/n to straddle her lover properly, and this time she didn’t hesitate to grind down against him, Harry’s hands coming to grip her smooth hips as she rubbed her barely covered sex along the bulge in his trousers, both letting out groans of pleasure at the friction.

Harry’s fingers trailed down y/n’s body as they made out like horny teenagers in the backseat, moving from her hair down to cup her covered breast, and down further to trace along the slick fabric of her panties. Y/n whimpered at the touch and moved to return the favor, her own hand coming to palm at his cock through his pants, at which Harry gasped and yanked her down onto his lap once again, hips thrusting up to grind against y/n’s cunt.

She moaned against his mouth once again, pulling away for just long enough to strip off Harry’s coat and unbutton his shirt before returning to her position on his lap. The two were so caught up in the moment that they didn’t notice the car pulling up to the curb and stopping, however they did take notice to the door flying open and the flash of a camera, followed by Eggsy’s delighted voice and a deep laugh from Merlin. Embarrassed, y/n quickly tugged her dress back into place and slid out of the car, holding out a hand for Harry to take as he climbed out, looking as red faced as y/n felt.

“Go on, buggers, we took you to Galahad’s place. I’ll find out who won the bet tomorrow, go have some fuckin’ fun.” Eggsy laughed at their dumbfounded expressions at his words, but chose not to respond, instead returning to his seat beside Merlin who drove off a few seconds later, leaving two very sexually frustrated agents on the sidewalk.

“Well then... Wanna take this inside?”

#harry hart smut #kingsman smut #kingsman imagine #kingsman fluff #harry hart x reader #harry hart imagine #harry hart fluff #wlm imagine #fanfic #oneshot #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman harry

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years

Text

Time for the rest of the first challenge. Event. Whatever. Words hard.

[No. 26 - Chase Down The Leader]

We flashback just a minute or so from where we left off, in order to see just how Izuku pulled off his impressive launch across the field. He stands at the start of the minefield, watching other students pick their way through - and occasionally setting off mines with missteps - while having a veritable mumblefest over the mines and the general issue of trying to pick past them.

The general gist of the mumbling: The mines are the type that blow up when stepped on, and aren’t that strong, but can throw a student off enough to possibly cause a chain reaction and lose them a lot of time. It’s better to go slow to avoid damage, even for leaping types, and trying to slow others is a guaranteed time loss. Izuku then analyzes the field in front of him, noting the spots people avoid and that most students will be most on guard at the entrance, which means there are plenty of mines left for his plan so long as they stay frosty.

Izuku puts his armor plate to work digging up mines, muttering about how anti-personnel mines should only be 14 centimeters or so deep (about 6 inches). Jirou, just making her way into the field and using her quirk to… I guess disable mines in front of her? Anyway, she actually notices Izuku is up to something and asks what he’s doing, though I think it’s not one she expects to get answered. In short order, Izuku has a pile of about a dozen mines, and mentally claims he’s taking a page from Kacchan’s book. Meanwhile, Present Mic announces Shouto and Katsuki are still in the lead, and that they’re about to cross the finish line.

Not for long, though, as Izuku names his adhoc maneuver ‘great blasting turbo speed’, throwing himself on top of his armor sheet and onto the pile of mines, launching him over the field and right towards the two leading the pack. Pretty much everyone hesitates or stops to stare for a moment, shook by the sheer brass balls it had to take to literally blow yourself sky high. The two most shook, of course, are Shouto and Katsuki, who only just start moving again when Izuku actually flies ahead of them, forgoing their fight in order to catch back up.

Izuku considers the whole experience intense, and is even more focused now that he’s managed to gain the lead. However, there’s one huge issue - he didn’t think far enough ahead to consider how he was going to land. As if that’s not enough, Katsuki is throwing himself forward with more explosions, screaming at ‘Deku’ to get back there (presumably to fight). Shouto’s not far behind, giving up keeping the others hindered in exchange for the speed he gets from icing over the field ahead of him - he doesn’t have time to worry about those behind him now.

Present Mic announces the temporary ceasefire between the two in order to chase down Izuku, and how when a common enemy appears, people stop fighting - then tacks on that, well, actually they’re still fighting, just not each other. Aizawa wonders what his friend is even trying to say.

Izuku starts floating away from his armor sheet, the larger surface area causing it to stall and slow faster then he is. He grabs onto one of the wires as he recognizes this, and that if he loses time on his landing, passing the two again will be impossible. As the two just start to rush past him, Izuku swears mentally, telling himself to not let go - while he’s still ahead, this is his only chance. So, if passing them is impossible, then he has to maintain the lead.

Somehow, he manages to flip in the air, using the momentum to bring the armor plate swinging around and into the ground right between the two, the pressure enough to set off several more mines. The two are forced to stop from the resulting explosion, while Izuku’s newfound momentum throws him readily ahead.

As he falls into a duck and roll, Present Mic announces how Izuku blows off the competition with no time to lose. He goes on to marvel at Aizawa’s class, wondering what he’s teaching the kids. Aizawa says it’s not his doing, and that they’ve been spurring each other on all on their own. Present Mic rolls on with his commentary, asking who could have predicted such an incredible turn of events? Aizawa asks if he’s being ignored as Present Mic announces the first one back to the stadium:

Midoriya Izuku. The crowds go absolutely wild. Outside the stadium, Death Arms recognizes Izuku as the kid from a year ago. At home, Inko falls off the couch sobbing while repeatedly stumbling over Izuku’s name. In an unknown location, Shigaraki watches on while scratching idly at his neck.

Izuku looks around the stadium while breathing heavily, eventually looking at one spot in particular. Somehow, he’s found Toshinori in the stands, and the two have a Moment™ from across the stadium.

These fucking two, man.

While Izuku is trying to keep himself from crying, the other students start making their way across the finish line as well.

Toshinori thinks about how Izuku has the spirit of a savior hero to the core, but the sports festival is a competition that tests the exact opposite of that - your willingness to take down the enemy. Heroes nowadays depend on popular opinion so much. So many selfishly seek to beat everyone else. But that’s not Izuku - and that’s why Toshinori chose him, even as he thoughts that lack of selfishness would be his one weakness. He claps in the stands, happy to have been proved wrong and mentally apologizing for doubting him, even as he laments Izuku’s crying habits.

Some business students nearby catch Toshinori’s attention, mostly due to them discussing Izuku’s potential and how they’d market him. They talk about how Izuku’s stock is about to rise, but it’s hard to say what’s still in store for him since he didn’t show his quirk. They then start speculating about how a hero agency would market him if they took it on, with one pointing out how he’s not much to look at, so they’re have to push his skills and his unique, almost artistic sensibilities. When the resources you need aren’t there… Well, we don’t hear how that gets handled, but Toshinori does note how some things never change.

We get a brief narrative insert about the business course, most notably how they have nothing to gain by directly competing in the sports festival. Instead, they hone their skills as salespeople and run business simulations.

Back with the hero students, we see Katsuki and Shouto both catching their breath. Katsuki is furious at Izuku once again managing to wrangle a win right from under him, while Shouto is just staring after Izuku silently. Present Mic announces more racers reaching the finish line, and that the standings will be gone over later, so the students can catch their breath for now.

Ochako and Tenya make their way over to Izuku. Ochako calls Izuku’s strategy awesome, while Tenya is in despair over losing a race with his quirk, stating that he still has progress to make. Ochako states that she’s jealous of Izuku’s first place; Izuku flushes and hides his face behind his arms, stating that it wasn’t that impressive, and was still too close. Internally, he laments that he just got lucky, that all his chance strategies happened to work. They say it’s awesome, but it was just a lucky break, and that the real test of skill starts now.

Anyways, Midnight announces the end of the race, and we get the results:

Midoriya Izuku

Todoroki Shouto

Bakugou Katsuki

Shiozaki Ibara

Honenuki Juuzou

Iida Tenya

Tokoyami Fumikage

Sero Hanta

Kirishima Eijirou

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu

Ojiro Mashirao

Awase Yosetsu

Asui Tsuyu

Shouji Mezou

Satou Rikidou

Uraraka Ochako

Yaoyorozu Momo

Mineta Minoru

Ashido Mina

Kouda Kouji

Jirou Kyouka

Kaibara Sen

Tsuburaba Kosei

Kaminari Denki

Bondo Kojiro

Yanagi Reiko

Shinsou Hitoshi

Kendo Itsuka

Shishida Jurota

Kuroiro Shihai

Kodai Yui

Rin Hiryu

Shouda Nirengeki

Komori Kinoko

Kamakiri Togaru

Monoma Neito

Tsunotori Pony

Hagakure Touru

Tokage Setsuna

Fukidashi Manga

Hatsume Mei

Aoyama Yuuga

I wasn’t able to find this list in word form anywhere online, so I made it myself. You’re welcome. I also calculated the points each of them had going into the second event, but I’m not gonna worry about that here. I’ll do individual and team points when we actually get to the teams. That way, we’ll know who has which teams’ headbands at the end!

Moving on with the chapter. Midnight announces that the top 42 from the qualifying round will move on, conveniently just including every hero student as well as the two non-hero students who managed to place higher. For those who placed lower, the sports festival will have another way for them to show their stuff!

(Not that we see said show, which I mean, makes sense narratively speaking, but also…)

[I was going to insert the server discussion about my thoughts on the arbitrary cut-off point here, but it’s getting long enough to merit its own post at this point. So look forward to that whenever it goes up!]

Anyways, Midnight continues on, explaining that now the main selection really begins, and that the press corp is going to be jumping out of their seats, so the students should give it all they’ve got. Now, onto the second event, which she already knows - which confirms these are predetermined by UA and they just do the randomizer for the sake of the crowds. Said event is…

the cavalry battle!

Kaminari is nervous at that, thinking about how he’s going to suck. Mineta is also looking concerned. Tsuyu notes they’re teaming up, but how, exactly? Midnight explains with a neat little graphic:

Basically, participants get in teams of two to four, and get into a horse-and-rider formation. The rules are the same as your regular cavalry battle - snag the opponent’s headbands while guarding your own - but with a twist. Each student has an assigned value based on their placement in the race.

Sato notes that it sounds like the points in the entrance exam, so it sounds simple. Hagakure comments on how this means the point value of each team is based on its members. Midnight snaps and cracks her whip at the students that she’s about to explain, so they should shut up already.

Individual point values start at five, at the bottom, so the student in 42nd place is forth five, 41st is worth ten, etc etc. However, the first place participant - that is, Izuku - is instead worth a whole ten million points.

That, my friends, is the face of someone realized they done fucked up.

Basically all the students stare down Izuku as he goes stiff from the internal panicking. Shinsou and Hatsume seem to be shown particular interest in it. Midnight finishes the chapter by noting that the higher-ranked students are the ones to aim for, and that this survival game is a chance for a comeback. It’s anyone’s game!

And with that, we end chapter 26… and volume three. Which means bonus content will be coming soon! See y’all then, and we’ll be back with more sports festival action in the next volume.

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siorca · 3 years

Note

Autobots set up cameras to spy on the Decepticons but they instead witness Momma Soundwave (any verse)

Anon I have no idea why you send me this prompt because I literally have not written in years, but I felt inspired. Didn’t edit, might fuck around and put a proper version on my AO3:

“What are you doing?”

Ratchet was tired, and the throb of a processor ache buzzed between his optics. His voice echoed his state, dull and unperturbed where he might have shown a level of concern on a good day. Meetings with Prowl tended to do that. Primus, did he have respect for that mech, but how frustrating it was to sway his stubborn nature on issues of medicine.

Sideswipe spared him a passing glance, returning to his task with added fever, as if completing it quickly could keep Ratchet from spoiling his fun. Ratchet had pulled rank on him for more minor infractions before. In a rare case of fortune, Ratchet had no interest in the resulting paperwork today.

Laid before him was one of the few drones that the Ark still had left, between the crash, Decepticon interference, and drunken Autobot hassling. Its simple processor was split open neatly, and Sideswipe moved between its internals with precision. In another life, Ratchet would have gladly mentored him as a junior surgeon for such a display, but knowing what he knew of him after millions of years, he could only muster a vague sort of impressed detachment.

Sunstreaker was only a few feet away, not contributing much, aside from a cool atmosphere, leaned against the wall like he was the last line of defense before a sudden collapse. While Sunstreaker rarely participated in Sideswipe’s more mischievous endeavors, he was never far behind to witness the fallout, like a specter of misfortune. A classic form of sibling bonding, in Ratchet’s experience.

He locked optics with Ratchet, raising an expectant optic ridge, the edges of a smug smile pulling at his lips. Ratchet waved at him in polite greeting.

Sideswipe let out a loud huff, hovering over his pet project protectively when he realized Ratchet wasn’t moving - mostly because a majority of the hallway had been turned into a makeshift workshop and Ratchet ached in too many places to try maneuvering around the little space left for travel.

“I’m winning a bet,” he said, oozing the brand of determined confidence that only Sideswipe was foolish enough to exude. Ratchet rubbed his optics, unimpressed, trying to keep his processor ache from spreading. Deflated, Sideswipe fiddled with his screwdriver a moment more, ducking back into his task, neatly and swiftly installing a small camera in the midst of the fissures he had created in the cranial unit.

“And what bet involves you vandalizing Autobot property?”

“He thinks the Decepticons have a pet sea monster,” Sunstreaker supplied, helpfully. “He got hooked on one of Hound’s stories about Earth creatures.”

“What?” said Sideswipe, incensed. “Just because the humans haven’t been able to get much scientific proof, doesn’t mean the Decepticons haven’t discovered something they missed. They live down there, for Primus’ sake!”

“Don’t you think they would have managed to outfit it with some sort of Cyber-tech to make our lives more difficult by now? Megatron would have at least called to brag the first deca-cycle they captured it.”

“Maybe they’re saving it for a secret mission? You never know!”

Ratchet’s shushed them, waving his hands frantically to avoid a brawl. Sunstreaker still looked unperturbed, but Sideswipe’s hackles were raised enough to hint at an inevitable pounce. Sideswipe pouted, welding the suffering drone back together with far more force than was necessary. The camera poked out of its head inelegantly, though blinking steady enough to prove that it worked.

Ratchet held onto only enough processing power to put the pieces together.“Are you...planning on breaking into the Decepticon base with that? To see if they have a sea monster?”

Ratchet was impressed, truth be told. This sort of ingenuity was something that Jazz would be interested in. It was almost a shame that Sideswipe was not cut out for Special Ops. Still, he could appreciate the craftsmanship, not to mention the sheer absurdity of going to these levels for the sake of pride. It reminded him of something Wheeljack would do, and it was only the fond thought of his conjunx that fueled his further investment.

“Yeah. Good to make sure the ‘cons aren’t planning anything.” Sunstreaker scoffed behind him. Sideswipe shot a glare over his shoulder.

“Huh,” said Ratchet. “If only you could muster this much effort on any of your assigned projects.”

Sideswipe sputtered in indignation, standing from his crouched position. He naturally towered over Ratchet, but knew better than to use his bulk for intimidation where Ratchet was involved. Sunstreaker snickered behind him. The drone, which had finished powering up, chirped, hovering around Sideswipe’s knees like an eager youngling.

Sideswipe gathered himself, brushing past

Ratchet brusquely. “Excuse me, I have a point to make,” he shot over his shoulder. The drone chirped again, matching his pace quickly. Sunstreaker peeled himself away from the wall, trailing behind him, sighing dramatically.

Ratchet looked down the empty expanse of hallway, his quarters tantalizingly close. The processor ache was starting to fade, replaced with a dangerous curiosity. “You doing this now?”

“No time better.”

“Curfew is soon.”

“So?” said Sideswipe, crossing his arms in a defensive manner.

Ratchet sighed, cursing every weak process in his body that caused him to make equally as foolish decisions as those around him. “So, it’s best to have an officer escort you. After all, said officer might be able to cover for you if you happen to be late.”

Sideswipe grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m more so interested in seeing if your monstrosity can get the job done.” Said monstrosity beeped irritatedly, as if its neglect was a personal affront to something that held no personality.

Sunstreaker groaned. “Don’t encourage him. This is only going to end badly.”

“Most likely, but what else do we have to do right now?” said Ratchet, trailing after the strange trio and out of the base.

—

The sun was just beginning to set by the time they made it to the shore, the pinks and oranges of the sky reflecting on the ocean in a dazzling kaleidoscope. In the distance, the one moon was beginning to peek through the clouds, struggling to outshine the fiery final performance of the sun. Humans found something romantic in such periods of transition. Ratchet, of a species who built their existence out of transformations, remained nonplussed.

“Mirage mentioned a security loophole near the back hull of the Nemesis a while back. Fancy words for ‘there’s a hole in it.’ Salt water makes it difficult for repairs to take, I guess.” Sideswipe placed the drone near the edge of the water, facing the general direction of where the Nemesis lay dormant. The drone did not move, ever eagerly awaiting orders.

Ratchet made a humming noise. On the other side of the beach, Sunstreaker was hassling a tiny crab that didn’t make it back to the water before low tide. It couldn’t harm him, yet it’s posturing begged to differ. If force of will could kill a mech, Sunstreaker would be in critical condition right now. Sunstreaker smiled crookedly at the creature, taking care not to accidentally step on it.

Sideswipe reached into his subspace for a datapad, tapping at it with his stylus in a rhythmic manner while he waited for it to fully boot up.

“Rigged this up.” Sideswipe waved the awakened pad, the crisp image of the sunset on full view.

“Clever,” said Ratchet. “You even sure the drone’s going to survive the water?” Most Cybertronian tech did not play well with salt water. One of the drawbacks of being born on a planet that was not intimate with the substance.

“It’s survived this long. Seems to be made of sturdier stuff than the average drone.” Sideswipe patted it good-naturedly on the shoulder.

“If you say so. Let’s get started before a ‘con patrol shows up.” Ratchet waved Sunstreaker over. He grumbled something too low to hear, moving down the beach. Once reunited, he folded his arms, cocking one hip to the side in his usual aloof stance, shooting his brother a challenging glare. Sideswipe stuck his glossa out at him in retaliation.

Sideswipe turned his attention to the datapad. He nudged the drone with his foot. It beeped, inching its way forward slowly. He nudged it again, the drone making a more affronted noise, quickening its pace.

There was a palpable tension as the drone immersed itself, the watery image of the Pacific melting into itself as the camera adjusted to its new temporary home. The image crisped the deeper it went, the shapes of small fish, scampering away from their newest visitor, becoming clearer. Sideswipe let out a whoop of excitement, the drone dutifully fulfilling its task and Sunstreaker huffed in annoyance.

“Well I’ll be slagged,” said Ratchet, placing his hands on his hips in astonishment. Autobot ingenuity was truly only at its best when petty pride was involved.

The drone traveled deeper, the pressure of the depths squeezing around the hydraulics in its lower half, slowing its momentum only slightly. The remains of the Nemesis were laid deep, near to the point where light had difficulty penetrating to the sea floor. Just enough sunlight peeked through to illuminate the remains of coral and the clinging vines of seaweed crisscrossing the outer hull. It looked monstrous in the semi-dark. If any sea monsters were lurking here, the Nemesis could certainly qualify as one with the right argument.

A large hole, poorly obscured by a large wad of algae, pocketed the side, toward the back. Small creatures hovered near it, mistaking it for a haven from the larger predators. The drone made its way through the throng, scampering up the remaining shrapnel that passed for a crude ramp into the interior. Inside, the Decepticons had managed to use some feat of engineering to stave off the water after a few feet. The result was a lagoon in the middle of what Ratchet would assume was the remains of part of the cargo bay.

Emergency lights flickered overhead, bathing the otherwise empty space in an eerie, energon-pink glow. The bay was smaller than expected, only made more obvious by the tall wall of concrete, sectioning off one side, no doubt to protect their precious mechanical stores on the other side. The drone gave a quick sweep of the area.

Sunstreaker tapped his foot impatiently. “Nothing here.”

“Yeah, yeah, we just got here,” shushed Sideswipe.

A convenient ventilation shaft lay across the room, wide enough to pass through. The drone meandered its way there, clambering inside with little effort. The tunnel was dark, but the basic night vision on the drone could make out the forward path.

“They probably have it stored somewhere where they can keep an eye on it,” said Sideswipe, matter-of-factly.

Ratchet kept a close optic on the screen, his sharp senses picking up the tell tale notes of conversation. Up ahead, a vent peaked out into a hallway, somewhere near the living quarters. Ratchet hushed them, pointing at the screen firmly. Valuable reconnaissance was important, regardless if sea monsters were involved or not.

Sideswipe commandeered the drone toward the vent, tilting the datapad to encourage the drone to look through the grates. It pressed up against them firmly. Even distorted, the distinct, blocky shape of Soundwave was hard to mistake, two smaller bodies with him that could only be his own pair of twins.

One brother was cradled in his arms with a painful looking dent in his right cheek. A sour frown marred his face while his body sagged in an overdramatic sprawl over Soundwave’s arm. The other had his arms crossed over his chest, his visible forearm sporting a nasty scratch, petulant scowl twisting his features.

“You must mind your strength, Rumble. You nearly cracked Frenzy’s optic,” chastised Soundwave, gentle and firm in only the way a creator could manage. There weren’t many of those left, between the two armies, and it only made it extra bizarre to hear such a rare tone from Soundwave, of all mechs.

It was obvious that the drone had stumbled upon some sort of familiar conflict. Perhaps not imperative to the war effort, but tantalizing all the same.

“Should they be doing this out in the hallway?” said Sideswipe, absentmindedly.

Sunstreaker shrugged. “Maybe it’s a Decepticon thing.”

On the feed, a loud huff came from Rumble. “Well, he started it!”

“And yet I have told both of you multiple times to stop rough-housing.”

“Soundwave, I’m fine,” piped up Frenzy, drooping further down Soundwave’s hip. He seemed to be trying to turn himself into pure liquid in order to escape his creator’s arms. Soundwave only tightened his hold.

“That is not the point. You will seriously hurt each other one day. Last week, you nearly blew out Rumble’s audials. What will it be next time?” Soundwave’s words must have struck a nerve. Frenzy had the decency to look bashful, pausing in his squirming. Rumble simply pursed his lips.

“Both of you must be more careful until you have better control of your sigma abilities.” Soundwave finally freed Frenzy from his makeshift prison, who promptly scampered to his brother’s side.

Soundwave’s concern was familiar to Ratchet, echoing a time long ago when creators used to bring their Outlier sparklings to his Dead End clinic. Those whose abilities were extreme enough to affect their health or those around them and the rarer cases of those that thought he might be able to help control their abilities.

He empathized with him. Soundwave himself was an infamously powerful telepath, and it was only logical that his creations would inherit some sort of power. The proof was in their terror on the battlefield, the few times that they had participated in the more small scale scuffles. He had nearly forgotten how this would reflect in what would pass for home these days.

Soundwave sighed, for the moment deflated. “Go to Hook. He owes me a favor. Make sure to behave yourselves.” The twins nodded, for now behaving themselves as they made their way down the opposite side of the hallway. Soundwave, himself walked a few doors down, assuredly to his own quarters.

Sideswipe pulled the drone away from the grate. “Give them a few days, they’ll be right back to trying to kill each other.”

Sunstreaker grinned. “Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a round 2 before they hit the medbay.”

Ratchet barked a laugh. “Probably.”

“Now to find that sea monster.”

#cass fics

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