#genuinely asking because on the one hand i imagine he’d be as festive as a middle aged suburban white woman for the holidays | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsstrawberrymochi · 2 years

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Hi!! Could i ask you a Rengoku,sabito and tanjiro DYMT for thr fluff alohabet please🥰

Ahhhh you have Keigo in your pfp so cuteee

D, Y, M & T for Sabito, Rengoku and Tanjiro

Sabito

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

🦊- Sabito wouldn’t exactly identify himself as an introvert butttt dates with him would never be at restaurants, festivals or any other place where there will be many people, it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy those things he does, and if you wanted to go he doesn’t mind but if it’s up him dates will always be literally just you and him alone

🦊- He finds being in the presence of only you to be calming and feels like he can connect with you better

🦊- His dates are usually in isolated places like in the forest or a place that’s hard for a regular human to get it ( like on top of a mountain or inside the cave of a waterfall ) the location of the dates always have a breath- taking view

🦊- An example of a date would be Sabito taking you on a picnic on top of a mountain near the edge, it’ll be in the afternoon time so you can eat and watch the sunset, then stargaze all cuddled together under the moonlight and don’t worry about demons he can and will protect you

M = Memory ( favorite memory together?)

🦊-His favorite memory was the first time you patched him up

🦊- This was back when you two were younger and training to be hunters, so you two weren’t together as yet but were crushing on each other

🦊- As per usual Sabito went too far with his training but unlike with the other the times where he just came back with a scratch or two this time he was actually bleeding a lot, he was accidentally crashed into a tree when he was trying out a new move which causes a deep and painful cut on his body so he needed a second hand

🦊- You were livid at him cursing, telling him how stupid he was to go , threatening him to never do it again all while patching him up

🦊- Although you were being very scary at the moment Sabito couldn’t help but softly smile, he was really glad you cared so much about him he was also imagining moments like this in the future once he’s married to you and becomes an hasira

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

This is going to be in terms of a modern au

🦊- Sabito’s proposal would be more on the sweet and thoughtful side than the big and extravagant side

🦊- He’d propose to you the place you had your first kiss or where he asked you to be his

🦊- He’ll decorate the area ✨aesthetically ✨ with cute fairy lights, pictures of you two hung up all over the place, candles, a fancy dinner set up and music playing in the background basically one of those Pinterest cute setups and Giyuu may or may not be in the bushes taking pictures to capture the moment

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

🦊- Not long, Sabito is the type of person who doesn’t like to beat around the bush or linger with things

🦊-So once he found out he had genuine feelings for you he asked you out

Rengoku

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

🔥- Dates are just like Kyōjurō spontaneous, fun and exiting

🔥- He always tries to go all out with his dates and make sure you have the best time

🔥-He really likes to take you to festivals because he feels like you can do the most stuff there

🔥- Rengoku will pay for everything from games, to foods to little gifts for you and he always refuses for you to pay

🔥- his others dates would include going to an either extremely fancy restaurant where you have to dress formal or an old run down one where where have to eat on the floor outside no in between

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

🔥- Rengoku is definitely old fashioned so he’ll ask your parents/ legal guardians for their blessing before marring you and once he is given it then he’ll ask

🔥- Rengoku would most certainly give you a long romantic speech about how in love he is with you, how he knew you were the one when you first met, that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you etc etc before popping the question

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

- His favorite memory was when his little brother, you and him were together baking a cake for his birthday, you were making Senjuro laugh and he was asking you different questions to get to know you better and at one point Kyōjurō “ accidentally” spilled flour on you which caused a mini playful food fight which just made Senjuro laugh even more

- Kyōjurō knows how easily nervous his baby brother gets and how hard it is for him to talk to people and even though you and Kyōjurō were together it wasn’t exactly easy to talk to you for Senjuro, so to see him finally be comfortable around and genuinely happy about your presence made Kyōjurō’s heart soar

- He was so happy the two most important people in his life can get along

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

🔥- Like with Sabito once Rengoku realizes his true feelings for you he would ask you out

🔥- Buttt possibly a tad bit longer than Sabito, yes Rengoku has feelings for you but Rengoku is the type to date to get married and have a life not just to date

🔥- So once he spends a lot more time with you and make sure you are a good person and have the same good morals as him then he’ll ask you out

Tanjiro

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

🎴- Tanjiro’s dates usually somewhat diy

🎴- For your dates he would use stuff he can find over at the butterfly estate or at the wisteria house you both would be currently staying at

🎴- For example he’d borrow some pillows and blankets from the storage , get a bowl of a bunch of different fruits and set them in the bedroom you and Tanjiro would be staying in

🎴- His ideal date is pretty much cuddling + snacking or have your dinner alone together then go on a walk and star gaze

🎴- Another ideal date for him would be when you two are coming back from a mission and spend the day at the one of the town’s festivals you two would pass , he always buys you little trinkets and snacks you two can share

🎴- Now Tanjiro knows these dates are basic everyday things but between being a hunter and him not having that much money/time, he can’t take you to those nice fancy dates and poor boy feels a really guilty about it and thinks you deserve better so make sure you tell him you don’t care that his dates aren’t fancy you’re just glad to spend time with him 🥺

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

This is going to be in terms of a modern au

🎴- like Rengoku, Tanjiro would most definitely ask your parents/ legal guardians for their blessing first

🎴- Tanjiro would put a lot of thought into the proposal

🎴- The way he would do it would be driving you to all the spots you both had your firsts and re-telling the story from his POV, like the first place you talked to each other, the first place you had your date, the fist place he told you he loved, the first place he kissed you and so on

🎴- Then your last destination would be a large beautiful venue and he takes you inside to a ballroom then he’ll say:

“And here we’ll have our first dance as a married couple”

🎴- then boom! He gets down on one knee and proposes!

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

🎴- His favorite memory was when you both had a day off and decided to go on a little walk, on the walk you two stumbled upon a rather large peach tree

🎴- So for the rest of that day you two just played around that tree, climbing it, swinging on its branches, and picking some peaches in the end you two got a basket full of peaches and carried some back to the wistaria home you were staying in and the lady was nice enough to let you two bake some delicious peach treats

🎴- He really liked this memory because it was one of the few times he felt normal, and felt safe not worrying about demons or anything

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

🎴- It depends on how long it takes for him to complete all his goals

🎴- As much as he loves you he wants to get his training and goals out of the way first before he can give you his full attention

🎴- He knows if he dates you and does training he’ll end up giving one more attention than the other and he doesn’t want you to feel neglected nor does he want to mess up his training

🎴-So the easiest thing to do is train, turn Nezuko back into a human then ask you to be his

🎴- but even though you two aren’t together together it’ll somewhat feel so because you’ll be his only crush, and he’ll be extra sweet to you than with anyone else

#anime #demon slayer #kny headcanons #kny x reader #rengoku x reader #tanjiro x reader #sabito x reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Imagine if Meng Shi begged and bargained and collected favors till she was able to send her A-Yao to education with the Lan Sect, perhaps even become a cultivator with them. Would he take that change? Would he become a rogue cultivator? Would the strict rules help curb his inner muderimpuls or enrage him or teach him to hide better?

A Good Fit - ao3

“The…Lan sect?” Meng Yao said doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” his mother said, her mouth tight. She looked upset, the way she always did these days when he referenced, intentionally or otherwise, the original plan that she had had to send him to join his father, sect leader of Lanling Jin. She’d raised Meng Yao on a steady diet of stories of what his life would be like when his father finally took him back the way he’d promised her he would, stories that had filled his days and nights for years and years and years, and then just last year she’d suddenly stopped talking about it entirely. It was as if the person who’d told those stories had nothing to do with her.

Meng Yao didn’t know what had happened, but he assumed it must have been pretty bad.

“It'll be a good fit,” she added.

“Then I’ll go to the Lan sect,” he said, and pretended not see the way his mother relaxed a little, relieved that he wasn’t asking too many questions. “I’ve heard they are gentlemen there, righteous but gentle; it will be the best match for my personality, I’m sure.”

A lie, of course. ‘Gentlemen’ were just as likely to come to the brothel as brutes, and they were all the same once they had a cup of wine and a beauty in their arms – Meng Yao tried not to have any illusions.

“Can we afford it?” he asked instead, since that was something he was sure his mother would have thought of, would have expected him to ask. “Gusu is so far away…”

“I have obtained a letter from the local sect recommending you to their sect leader, Lan Qiren,” she said. “He’s the one that teaches the classes – the one that sent out the summons asking the subsidiary sects to look for individuals with raw talent to join his classes and offering them an extra seat for their sects for each nameless orphan they find that lives up to Lan sect standards. Only the Heavens know why he’s doing something like that…I assume they’re trying to expand.”

That seemed like the most reasonable explanation. Meng Yao nodded. “So I’ll be traveling with the local sect?”

“That’s right,” his mother said, and raised her chin a little. “At least this much, your mother was able to do for you.”

She’d begged and bargained and traded favors for it, then, Meng Yao thought, and yet taking him along was to their own benefit: if they were looking for inherited cultivation talent sufficient for the Lan sect, then the bastard son of another Great Sect leader would be a better bet than some random nobody. She’d probably humiliated herself for nothing.

“Will you come with me?” he asked, more concerned with that – it was too easy for women of ill repute to disappear into the depths of the city if they didn’t have someone to watch out for them.

Even someone as young as he was. He wished he was older.

“You can come back to visit me during the Spring Festival,” she said, which meant no. “I’ll be all right, A-Yao.”

Meng Yao wasn’t so sure.

Still, not having him around would at least remove a visible reminder of his mother’s age – she’d been kicked out of the better brothels because of him, because no one wanted a woman who was a mother. Leaving would at least do that for her.

“I’ll write,” he finally said. “I’ll write as often as they let me.”

“And I’ll write back,” she promised him, kissing his cheek. “I promise.”

With that, Meng Yao supposed he had to be satisfied.

The Lan sect was both exactly like what Meng Yao expected and absolutely nothing at all like anything he could have dreamt.

For the first, his cynicism was almost immediately confirmed: the boys raised there were snobby as anything, looking down at the rest of them as little better than barbarians, and many of the adults were the same way. It was clear that this whole business of recruiting talented nobodies was a project of the sect leader’s – the interim sect leader, no less, not even the real thing – and nobody else’s; they were only just barely going along with it. Adding to that the fact that there were dozens if not hundreds of rules, and Meng Yao could glumly foresee a future of having his lack of knowledge held over his head as a fault, even with his marvelous memory to act as his backing.

For the second…

Well, there was Lan Xichen, who was – as unbelievable as it seemed – to actually embody all those things that people said about gentlemen, all kindness and gentleness and fierce upright pride, except only for real. There was Lan Wangji, who was basically perfect in every way and kinder than he gave the impression he was, willing to help tutor anyone who asked if only they dared disturb his solitude long enough to do so. There was the boy Meng Yao shared a room with, Su She, who’d punched the boy from the Yunping cultivator clan in the mouth for calling Meng Yao a son of a whore and pretended it was because they weren’t allowed to talk about that sort of thing, when actually it’d been because he hadn’t wanted rumors to get around that might make Meng Yao’s life harder in the future.

There was Lan Qiren, who was strict and a little boring but fair, painfully fair, handing out punishments with an equitable hand no matter that it meant that he was punishing the locals as often if not more often. It’d been his idea to bring people like Meng Yao into the Lan sect, and defending the idea was the only time he truly seemed moved to passion. Now that they’d passed the initial examination and been judged to match Lan sect standards, Lan Qiren announced, as far as he was concerned, they were Lan sect just as if they were born there, as if they’d been children of his own.

And he even seemed to really believe it, too.

Today, Meng Yao’s head was still warm from when the stern Teacher Lan had put his hand there, gentle and approving, and his ears still burning from the murmured “Well done, Meng Yao, as expected.”

“I think I would kill someone for him,” Meng Yao said dreamily to Su She, who snorted.

“You’ve got such father issues,” he said disdainfully, as if he didn’t have entire family issues. That was just Su She’s way, though – he bitched and moaned and complained without end, and he’d probably kill someone for Meng Yao if Meng Yao so much as hinted it was something he’d want. They’d made friends for a reason. “You know the bit about the poor kids being his own children is a lie, right?”

“I know which sect’s leader is my father, thanks,” Meng Yao said, rolling his eyes. “I’m well aware it’s not Teacher Lan. Like he’d ever have kids of his own, anyway.”

“That’d require noticing when someone’s flirting with him,” Su She agreed, all solemn for just a moment, and then he dissolved into sniggering giggles. Meng Yao couldn’t blame him: it was, in fact, extremely funny when women (and sometimes men) tried to flirt with Teacher Lan, mostly because of the way that he very genuinely and completely missed that that was what was happening each and every time.

“Laugh all you like,” Meng Yao said peaceably. “You’d kill for him, too.”

“Probably,” Su She agreed. “But only because of you.”

That was fair enough. After getting the lay of the land, Meng Yao had arranged for them to ‘accidentally’ be overheard by Teacher Lan while talking about the misconduct of one of the teachers who was the most biased against guest disciples, one of the ones that had been harassing Su She in particular for over a year before Meng Yao had arrived, and despite Su She’s initial nervousness about the plan, it had all gone splendidly. Sure, they’d been punished to do five copies of a treatise on upright conduct because they’d breached Talking behind the backs of others is prohibited, but the teacher in question had been sentenced to two hundred strikes with the discipline rod for abusing his position and three months of enforced seclusion to contemplate his misbehavior, and then, Teacher Lan had said, his expression dark and threatening, they could discuss what role would be the best fit in the future.

The other teachers had taken notice and shaped up very quickly, after that.

Comparatively, those five copies made in the nice cool Library Pavilion instead of having to do chores on the hottest days of summer? Practically a pat on the back for bringing it to his attention.

Su She would never have dared to raise anything if it was just him, Meng Yao thought; he had a strange fear of authority figures that combined envy and misery in an explosive combination – he would have just suffered and suffered and suffered until he’d been pushed too far and then it would have all burst out at once. He wasn’t like Meng Yao, who was unwilling to keep to his “proper” place and was more than willing to use his greater-than-average share of brains to get what he wanted, no matter what rules he broke in the process. He was the sort of person who was willing to do whatever it took to obtain his desires – no matter what it took.

Well, maybe not no matter what. He wouldn’t want to disappoint Lan Qiren too much.

(Okay, so maybe Su She was right and he had some unresolved father issues. So what if he did? Whose business was it but his?)

It’d taken Meng Yao a while to fully adjust to the Cloud Recesses.

Some parts he’d figured out right away – the way they all flattered themselves as gentlemen even if they were actually little more than hypocrites (Teacher Lan and his personally taught nephews exempted, of course), which of course meant that Meng Yao’s ability to act pitiful at the drop of a hat and cleverly turn black into white made him a teacher’s pet at once. The vegetarian meals were easy enough to adapt to, given that his mother hadn’t had the money for meat all that often, and the training and cultivation and all that wasn’t any challenge for his excellent powers of retention – he had ambitions of becoming one of Teacher Lan’s aides one day, and worked assiduously towards that goal. Even waking and sleeping early, which was practically the opposite of his schedule at home, was something he could adjust to, given time and incentive.

It was his mentality that took some time to adjust.

Meng Yao had perhaps grown up with too many of his mother’s stories, painting an image of a matchless paradise – at the start, he looked at everything around him, serene and elegant but not quite as rich and shining and thought that it would do, for now. When he’d first arrived, he had had every intention of making a good reputation for himself and using that reputation to get his real father’s attention – he’d liked Teacher Lan from the beginning, despite his best attempts to not let his heart be swayed, but he’d reasoned that if a teacher was like this, then a blood-related father would be even better.

And so, for the first half-year, he’d treated his time at the Cloud Recesses…not lightly, no. He was extremely serious about making sure to get the maximum benefit he could. And yet, at the same time, he still was not really committing himself to the place.

This wasn’t where he was going to live his whole life, he reasoned; it was just a stepping stone to a better future. That meant he would exert himself to point out things that made him look good, to eliminate obstacles in his path, to win himself allies, but not bother with those longer-term problems, the ones that really ought to be fixed but which would take a great deal of effort with little reward other than annoying people.

His feeling of superiority and emotional distance lasted right up until the first discussion conference.

From a distance, Jin Guangshan was everything Meng Yao could have imagined – perhaps a little too similar to the clients that his mother often saw, a little dissolute to pull off the air of a refined scholar he affected, but wearing more gold than Meng Yao had ever seen in his life, with a retinue of servants that dwarfed the other sect’s. Each of those servants were dressed more finely than even main clan cultivators in some of the smaller sects, and though Meng Yao’s Lan sect guest disciple clothing was of such quality that he didn’t need to fear their disdain, he couldn’t help but be secretly impressed.

He'd exerted himself more than usual to trade away all of his chores and duties, freeing himself up to take on patrol duty near the Jin sect. He’d perhaps daydreamed about some sort of encounter – nothing active on his part, of course, but he couldn’t quite resist playing through some fantasy of catching someone’s eye by chance, getting called over, a “You have a familiar set to your chin, who’s your father?”, a shy halting admission, recognition, a joyous reunion…

Instead, his father spent the entire night getting drunk and cursing the Lan sect’s hospitality for not providing him with girls to go with his liquor, calling Lan Qiren a miserable prude with a stick up his ass right in front of the Lan sect disciples that clenched their fists in barely concealed rage. He’d seen Meng Yao all right, ordered him to come forward, but it’d only been to mock him in front of all of his servants – and not even for being his bastard son, no, that would involve bothering to pick him out from the crowd or to ask who he was. No, he’d mocked him simply for being one of the poor disciples that Lan Qiren had taken in, all because his accent was marked with the distinct tones of Yunping rather than the sweetness of Gusu.

“Tell me, boy,” he said, breathing fumes into Meng Yao’s face and making him feel suddenly as if he’d never left the brothel – that the Cloud Recesses had all been a vague dream, and now he’d woken up and lost it all. “How does that old fart Qiren expect you to pay him back for all he’s done for you? I heard the Lan sect includes a pretty face as one of its standard requirements…”

Meng Yao put his gaze above his father’s head and pretended to be deaf.

“It seems like rather a lot of effort,” one of his father’s attendants remarked. “Even if Second Master Lan wanted a boy to warm his bed, couldn’t he just buy one like any normal person?”

“Bah, boys,” his father said, and leaned back, waving his hands in dismissal. “Why would anyone bother with a boy when you could have a soft woman instead? Just as long as they’re stupid enough – you know, there’s nothing worse than a woman who’s talented and knows it, too smart, always trying to get above their station…”

“You’re thinking about that whore in Yunping again, aren’t you? The one that interrupted your dinner and made a scene, claiming you’d promised to take in the son she bore you?” the attendant said, laughing. “I told you, you should’ve just killed her for her impudence rather than just having her beaten and thrown out. That way the matter wouldn’t still be bothering you…”

“Go away, boy,” another servant said to Meng Yao, who was frozen stiff in belated terror, nausea churning in his stomach as he realized his mother could’ve gone out one day and never come back, and he would never have known why – or maybe it was that he’d been spending his considerable time and brain on pleasing someone who would have done that, who nearly had done that. “Your accent’s brought back bad memories, don’t you see?”

Meng Yao left.

No, to be more blunt: he fled. He ran away, hot tears filling his eyes until he couldn’t see – belly full of regret and disappointment, crushed dreams feeling like broken shards of glass in his mouth and throat.

He tried to tell himself that it was better to find out now, when they were still distant, before he'd sold his soul for the futile chance to get that horrible man's affection, but he couldn't quite throw off the shame of knowing that if he hadn't heard such a thing up front, he probably would have done that. Would have humiliated himself like that, and for what? A man who regretted not murdering his mother?

He ran right into Lan Wangji, who was also on patrol.

Lan Wangji took one look at him and grabbed his wrist, dragging him away from the main pathway and all the way to his uncle’s rooms.

Lan Qiren was still awake despite the late hour, writing something at his desk, but he set aside his brush at once. “What’s going on?” he asked, frowning. “Wangji – Meng Yao – one of you report.”

“Meng Yao was on patrol by the Jin sect,” Lan Wangji explained as Meng Yao furiously tried to dash away his tears using his sleeve.

“Who permitted that? First year disciples aren’t permitted to patrol during discussion conferences,” Lan Qiren asked, his frown deepening. “It wouldn’t be proper – ah, but no, I recall now. I suppose it was inevitable. Wangji, well done, and thank you. You are dismissed.”

After Lan Wangji left, he turned his eyes on Meng Yao.

“You volunteered, didn’t you?” he asked.

Meng Yao felt his back go cold: Lan Qiren knew, then. It had never been said out loud by anyone as far as he knew, and yet it was clear that Lan Qiren knew who his father was – and probably his mother, too.

He knew that Meng Yao was – that he wasn’t anything more than –

“You are one of my most promising disciples, Meng Yao,” Lan Qiren told him, and poured him a cup of tea from his own pot, pressing it into his hands. It was finer tea than Meng Yao had ever had in his life, full of smoke and flavor. “The rules say Be loyal and filial, but they also praise reciprocity. You have not been recognized, and have not received your forefathers’ grace. You can fulfill your obligations to chivalry through your respect for the parent that raised you.”

Meng Yao stared down at the teacup. Lan Qiren had completely misunderstood the nature of Meng Yao’s concern – he was disappointed in what his father was, not worried about not living up to his obligations of being a filial child. And yet it was a little nice to hear that as far as Lan Qiren was concerned, the rules said that he could tell his father go hang for all he cared…

And that he ought to honor his mother, which was something no one who knew her had ever said to him.

“Even if she –” His voice stuttered. “Even if she’s a…”

He couldn’t say the word.

“Appreciate the good people is not qualified by class or profession,” Lan Qiren said, and his monotone voice was blissfully without emotion, as if this were just another lesson in class, and not the deepest hurt of Meng Yao’s life. “I have never met your mother, Meng Yao, but you are a good child – diligent, organized, sincere, with good judgment, and you clearly adore her. That tells me everything I need to know.”

Meng Yao burst into tears.

Meng Yao liked Lan Xichen a lot, but he also had to admit that sometimes, the older boy was, well…

“Dumb as a pile of rocks,” Su She announced.

“Do not criticize other people,” Meng Yao said piously, but then chuckled, shaking his head. “Say, rather, that he’s naïve and sheltered, and overly inclined to believe the best in people.”

“Like I said: dumb as rocks. How many times is going to get himself swindled into being someone’s sword or shield before he figures out that the problem is him?”

“Some people don’t have the capacity to understand the depths of humanity’s foulness –”

“Yeah, dumb ones.”

“Su She, please.” Su She held up his hands in surrendered. “At any rate, if Lan-gongzi is going to keep falling for people’s tricks, it’s beholden on us to help protect him.”

“You just don’t want Teacher Lan to be sad about something serious happening to his nephew,” Su She said knowingly, but he was already nodding. “All right, what are we going to do about it? He outranks us. We can’t exactly tell him to his face that he’s being…”

He paused.

Dumb as rocks went unsaid, but then, it didn’t need to be said out loud for the meaning to be clear.

Meng Yao sighed.

“You can only trick someone so many times,” he said. “If we want to keep him from getting tricked by other people, then we have to trick him first. And better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lan-gongzi likes to save people,” Meng Yao explained. “He really sees himself as a chivalrous gentleman – he puts chivalry first, even though Teacher Lan says Learning comes first. That’s why he always sides with whoever he perceives to be the underdog in a given situation, no matter how wrong that impression is. That’s how most of the people who’ve been tricking him have gone for it: playing the victim, appealing to his sense of righteousness, pulling the curtains over his eyes to obscure what’s actually happening.”

“Okay. So?”

“So, we’ve both got miserable backstories – you being taken from your family at a young age and then bullied, me with my mother and, even worse, father. If we get him on our side, early on, he’ll side with us over anyone else – that way we can keep him from getting roped into other people’s private grudges.”

Su She frowned. “That seems a little manipulative.”

“It’s for his own good, and that’s what’s important,” Meng Yao said, and smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lan-er-gongzi?”

Su She jumped, turning around just in time to see Lan Wangji, who had been standing in the shadow of a nearby tree, step out.

He had a serious expression, as always, but a thoughtful one.

Meng Yao waited patiently.

“You cannot take advantage,” Lan Wangji finally said, and Meng Yao knew he’d won the most important ally in the battle to save Lan Xichen from himself. “That would change it from a virtuous act to a selfish one.”

“Like we need anything from him,” Su She said haughtily. “Maintain your own discipline.”

“Arrogance is forbidden.”

“It’s not arrogance if it’s justified! It’s just self-confidence!”

“Do not argue with family,” Meng Yao quoted, and was pleased to see both of them drop it at once. “Listen, we all share the same goal, and we have to start somewhere, don’t we? We’re stronger together than apart. Together, we can do anything, even protect Lan-gongzi.”

That and more, he thought as the other boys nodded, following his lead. Lan Xichen is just the start.

“The Wen sect will make trouble sooner rather than later,” Meng Yao said thoughtfully, one day. His friends turned to look at him. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Lan Wangji nodded, serious as always, but Su She scoffed.

“You can’t even convince that Wei Wuxian boy to leave poor Lan-er-gongzi alone,” he said snidely. “How exactly are you expecting to bring down the Wen sect?”

“I don’t convince Wei Wuxian to leave Lan-er-gongzi alone because Lan-er-gongzi doesn’t want to be left alone,” Meng Yao said. “Obviously. Isn’t that right?”

“You should call me by name,” Lan Wangji said, which wasn’t answering the question and definitely wasn’t denying anything. “You were saying, about the Wen sect?”

Meng Yao smiled.

“What brings one of Teacher Lan’s most promising disciples to the Unclean Realm?” Nie Mingjue said, peering at him thoughtfully. “You’re at the wrong time to be one of the usual messengers.”

Meng Yao smiled at him.

“I think you’ll find that we have similar goals, Sect Leader Nie,” he said. “When it comes to making sure that certain people in our lives don’t get hurt by the bad decisions of others, I mean. In your case, it’s your younger brother, who’s a friend of mine –”

Friend, source of information, it was all about the same thing in the end. Meng Yao didn’t have real friends outside the Lan sect, but he’d been very careful to cultivate good relationships with all his most important peers.

“- and for me, well. A teacher for day, a father for a lifetime. I’m sure Sect Leader Nie can understand the importance of protecting one’s father – right?”

“You don’t need to use any sophistry on me,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes. “If you have an idea on what we can do to stop the Wen sect before they go and burn someone’s house down, I’m all ears.”

By chance, Meng Yao did.

It was a good plan, too, daring and brave in equal measure. If it worked the way he hoped it would, he’d win enough fame to get Jin Guangshan to beg for him to join the Jin sect – not that he would, of course.

Meng Yao knew what he wanted, and he knew how he was going to get it, too.

“This is a lovely house, A-Yao,” Meng Shi said, running her hand along one of the soft tapestries on the wall. “Truly lovely. Whoever you rented it from has good taste.”

Meng Yao bowed. “Thank you for the compliment, Mother. I put a lot of thought into it.”

“You own it?” she asked, surprised. “But don’t you live up the mountain, with the sect?”

“I do. This is for you.”

“For – me? A-Yao! This is too much – how much must it have cost–”

“I saved the Lan sect’s core texts from being destroyed,” Meng Yao said. “I’m an inner sect disciple now – I could ask for a dozen houses like this, and they’d grant them to me without blinking twice. Teacher Lan would insist on it.”

“Teacher Lan,” his mother murmured. “That’s the one you’ve taken to treating as your own father, isn’t it? You’ve spoken so much of him, in your letters…”

“There’s no need to scheme,” he told her. “He wouldn’t notice your flirtations, anyway.”

His mother arched her eyebrows at him.

“He’s really oblivious.”

“Still…”

“Really no need,” Meng Yao said, and couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Lan Qiren pulling him into a hug when he realized that the books – and Lan Xichen – were all safe from the Wen sect’s attempt to burn down the Cloud Recesses, and, later, again, that Wen Ruohan was dead. He may have deliberately schemed for that second hug, and he might or might not have plans for more. “He already takes me as a son.”

His mother relaxed.

“Good,” she said, and smiled herself. “So, A-Yao, was I right, all those years ago? Was the Lan sect a good fit for you?”

“Yes, Mother,” Meng Yao said. “Yes, it was.”

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #lan qiren #su she #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #a good fit

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valdomarx · 3 years

Text

“Geralt. My dearest friend. My closest companion. Light of my life, fire of my-”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Jaskier?”

“Seeing as how I’ve made you famous, and I flatter myself that this has eased you path somewhat, why, this very inn not only took us in but even offered us a discounted rate-”

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Testier this time.

“Ahh. Well. Let me put it plainly: I’m in need of a favour.”

Geralt raises one eyebrow, in an expression he knows speaks volumes.

“I need you to come with me to Lettenhove this winter and pose as my fiancé.”

Geralt nearly drops the sword he’s sharpening. A million thoughts whip through his mind, but one is most pressing: “Why, for Melitele’s sake?”

Jaskier waves a hand in a vague and non-descriptive gesture. “It’s a court thing, you know how families are, and my mother has made it abundantly clear that it’s time for me to settle down and this year I’m to return affianced or else she’ll select someone for me. And I can’t get hitched to some local lady, Geralt, I simply can’t, it’ll ruin my bardic appeal, not to mention my employment prospects, and of course I won’t be able to travel with you, and it’s-”

Geralt holds up a hand to ward off the wall of words. The idea of no longer travelling with Jaskier is unconscionable, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. And they spend so much time together they’re practically married anyway. How hard could it be to pretend for a few days?

“Fine,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, Geralt, you are wonderful.” Jaskier beams and throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt growls, but secretly, it’s actually rather nice.

“Mother, this is Geralt, my fiancé.”

Cold, clear eyes look him up and down, assessing him, and pinch into an expression suggesting he has been found wanting. Geralt decides against opening his mouth and further cementing that opinion.

“A witcher.” Her voice has the familiar twang of Jaskier’s, but with the flat, expressionless cadence he associates with the higher echelons of the aristocracy.

“A witcher!” Jaskier confirms in a cheery tone. “Isn’t that exciting?”

She sniffs in a manner which makes it clear that exciting would not be her first choice of word. “I see. He will be joining us for this year’s Yuletide?”

“He will.”

Her face draws back into the impassive mask of the well-bred. “Very well. You will stay in the east wing.”

“Thank you, mother.” Jaskier executes a stiff bow which Geralt copies and they beat a hasty retreat.

“That went rather well!”

Geralt blinks. “Jaskier, I’m fairly sure your mother means to have me killed in my sleep.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always like that. She’s actually softened up a lot since dear old dad died, gods rest the grumpy bastard.”

Geralt struggles to imagine how such staid, cold people could possibly have produced a son as bright and warm as Jaskier. They might as well be a different species.

Jaskier pushes open a door to a grand suite, all plush velvets and gold ornamentation, a thick woven rug underfoot. It’s the most opulent room Geralt has ever seen, but Jaskier pays it no mind and throws his bag casually on the bed.

“We’ll have to stay here together,” he says apologetically, not looking Geralt in the eye. “But the bed is plenty big, or I can sleep on the sofa if you’d rather -”

Geralt is still taking it all in: The space, the furnishings, the frankly enormous bed which looks divinely comfortable. And there, through the next room, that looks like-

“Is that a copper bathtub?” he asks, eyes wide. Such luxuries were a rarity indeed.

Jaskier grinned. “It is. Let me get some food sent up and I’ll wash your hair?”

Geralt grumbles, just for the effect, and decides that putting up with tedious aristocracy might have its benefits after all.

Yule festivities in Lettenhove are, mercifully, a mere matter of days. First there is the fitting for formal attire, which Geralt scowls through but Jaskier promises will be made up for with plenty of good food and wine. Then there are several deeply tedious aristocratic parties, which Jaskier sails through and Geralt spends mostly hiding in dark corners, as is his wont.

Occasionally, Jaskier will grab him by the hand and introduce him as, “Geralt, my husband-to-be,” and something funny will flip over in his stomach which will require several drinks to settle. When he returns to his dark corner he’ll find his heart pumping a little faster as his eyes track Jaskier flitting around the room. It’s probably just indigestion from all the rich food.

Then there is the formal family Yuletide dinner, a spectacularly awkward and singly unpleasant evening spent around a long, cold table with Jaskier’s mother and various cousins, who regard Geralt with expressions ranging from bland disinterest to active hostility. The food is heavy beyond measure and the conversation cruel and bland by turns.

They cover the need for raising taxes, the many failings of the servant class, and the petty squabbles over jewels and titles that seems to be the bread and butter of these people. With each hateful line, Geralt feels his blood rising. If it weren’t for Jaskier making pleading eyes at him, he’d take great pleasure in explaining some hard truths to them.

When a cousin begins expounding on useless lazy peasants in the estate, complaining that they can’t work because of plague, but we all know they’re simply idle, Geralt grits his teeth so hard that he swears the sound must be audible.

Beneath the table, Jaskier takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Staring down at their joined hands, Geralt detaches from these awful people and their awful conversation and focuses on the simple warmth of Jaskier’s fingers intertwined with his own.

They make their escape from dinner as soon as can be considered polite, and Geralt takes a second to lean against the door to their room, breathing deeply.

“You did well not to throttle anyone,” Jaskier says with a reassuring smile. “If we’d had to listen to cousin Edrick for a minute longer, I might have launched over the table with a carving knife myself.”

Geralt reaches for him without thinking, and once again Jaskier’s hand slips into his own. It’s grounding, to feel something genuine in this place surrounded by artifice.

“Come on,” Jaskier says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Geralt doesn’t even ask where they’re going before nodding.

They sneak away from the estate out of the servants’ door and follow a winding path toward a cluster of lights in the valley below. The path into Lettenhove town is quiet and calm, and as they walk the snow begins to fall in soft flurries, covering the ground in a peaceful white blanket.

The town looks picture perfect when they arrive, a charming jumble of thatched cottages and a small, cosy inn from which bright light spills out into the snowy night. When they enter the barmaid runs over to hug Jaskier and the proprietor slaps him on the back, and Jaskier has a kind word and a waved greeting for every person in there.

Geralt feels something unwind in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was tight and twisted until now. Seeing Jaskier in his element, among people who love him for who he is, instead of among that cold, hateful family, he feels right in a way he hasn’t for days.

Jaskier is already buying drinks and passing them around, and he excitedly waves Geralt over. “Bree, Geoffrey,” he addresses the couple behind the bar, “This is Geralt.” A shy smile sneaks over his face. “My fiancé.” The couple gasp in delight and congratulate Jaskier, then they’re embracing Geralt like old friends and pushing a drink into his hands.

“Come on, Geralt, join us!” Bree smiles warmly. “It’ll be the ten o’clock bells soon, and we must have Jaskier lead us in a song.”

The evening is a whirl of music and dance and loud, terrible singing, which the entire town seems to join in. For once there is no corner for Geralt to hide in, so he stays by Jaskier’s side, basking in the reflected glow of these people’s clear adoration of his bard.

When the midnight bell chimes and Geoffrey turns them all out for the night, the revelers wend their way home still singing and drinking. As the place empties out, Jaskier slides over to Bree to press a kiss to her cheek and a bulging purse into her hand. She tries to wave him off but Jaskier tucks the money behind the counter all the same, and Geralt watches, a deep wave of fondness sweeping through him.

The snow is still falling when they step out into the now-quiet street, soft, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking in Jaskier’s hair. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hair falls in an messy sweep over his eyes; without thinking Geralt reaches out to brush it away behind his ear. Jaskier’s blush deepens as he does so, but he shivers in the cold.

“Here.” Geralt unclasps the thick cloak from around his neck and sweeps it over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier’s mouth forms a little o of surprise and he looks up at Geralt, something tender in his eyes.

Geralt’s gaze is caught by the snow flakes settling on Jaskier’s lashes; he’s so focused that he almost jumps when Jaskier reaches out to take his hand. The sky seems to glow with a soft orange light as the clouds reflect the last few fires in the town below; everything is warm with Jaskier’s hand in his despite the chill in the air.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says softly. “For being here with me.” And leaning in, his breath caressing over Geralt’s face, he touches his lips to Geralt’s cheek in a ghost of a kiss.

Suddenly it occurs to Geralt that this will be it, tomorrow they’ll head back on the path like none of this ever happened, no more holding hands or being close, no more being introduced as Jaskier’s betrothed. And despite the hellish parts of this experience he really doesn’t want it to end. He likes being Jaskier’s person, and he likes Jaskier being his.

They are still standing close together, mere inches between them, and it’s no effort at all to lean in, slowly, cautiously, to find Jaskier’s lips with his own, to place a tentative kiss there. And then Jaskier’s hands are fisting in his shirt and tugging him closer still, and his arms go around his waist and Jaskier is kissing him back like he’s been waiting for it, their mouths slotting together like they were made to fit each other, and everything is blazingly bright like the white of the snow.

When they pull apart they stay with foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, and Geralt can see a smile cracking wide over Jaskier’s face.

“I like being engaged to you,” Geralt says quietly, unable to keep it in.

Jaskier’s smile widens even further. “I like being engaged to you too,” he says. He kisses him again. “Fiancé.” Another kiss. “Husband to be.” And another. “Partner.” One more. “Beloved.”

“I like the sound of those.” He suspects he may be wearing the same dopey grin as Jaskier is.

“Then let’s make it official.” Jaskier bites his lip. “Marry me?”

Jaskier is a picture of perfection, eyes gleaming and cheeks ruddy, snowflakes in his hair. Geralt’s heart has always been right here.

“I’d be honoured.” He considers for a second. “But not in Lettenhove.”

Jaskier’s laugh sparkles with joy. “Anywhere but here.”

#PLEASE ENJOY THIS HOLIDAY ROMCOM NONSENSE #i am feeling festive and also sappy #geraskier #the witcher #my writing

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

Windblume Memories [Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: “The annual Windblume festival held in the name of romance and freedom! Why not celebrate it with your lover?”

Characters: Kaeya, Diluc

(A/N): A self-indulgent headcanon because Mihoyo has yet to give us more moments with our husbandos. Just imagining them having fun and enjoying, mah heart~~ And no Mihoyo, if you bother giving us their quotes why can’t you just give us a hangout already (cri cri)

------------------------------------------------------

{Diluc}

“I do know how to play music. Is it so strange?"

• As the most eligible (former)bachelor of Mondstadt, it wouldn't be a surprise if he actually knew the ways of an instrument. But here you were, comepletely awestruck while looking expectantly at your fiance.

• "Diluc you're so perfect I love you!" -you probably

• Back in the days when he took his etiquette lessons, Diluc also learned how to play the violin as well as the piano but the lyre was a traditional instrument of Mondstadt so he focused on that the most.

• His repitoire would lean more to the soft and solemn pieces. (Like his soundtracks HA)

• Diluc is quite shy when you ask him to give you a performance but the way you just plead, he can't say no

• If you don't know how to play an instrument, he'll be more than glad to help you. He's an excellent teacher due to the vast amount of patience he has (thought can't really say the same for other people) and could spend hours elaborating on the same place you've been stuck at.

"Why is this song so slooooow?"

"You're being too hasty, love."

• You're worried if he's bored but Diluc reassures that he isn't. Seldom does he have the opportunity to spend time with you like this so he makes sure to treasure every moment (Even when you're about to break the goddam lyre out of frustration).

• But when you do manage to make it to the end after several attempts, albeit still terrible, there would be the stupidest fat grin on your face while chanting, "I did it! I did it!"

• And he'd praise you as a soft expression graces his features, "You certainly did."

• Soft man I cri

"It takes a long period of training to become a battle-ready archer. These games are only enough to pass the time."

• "No Diluc, I brought you here to have fun not to have this as a training session."

• This man can do pretty much ANYTHING and literally win you any prize. You want that stuffed toy? Consider it taken.

• Perhaps the activities weren't challenging enough. Whether it'd be wind gliding or the peculiar wonderland house, he's got the reflexes for it all.

• Since Diluc is so battle oriented, he treats the games as such. You call him a worry wart after falling into the pit just because you steped on the wrong stone: "Diluc I’m fine. Its just a game." He’ll grab you out of pure instinct and apologize shortly after when you pout at him

• Eventually Diluc learns to loosen up while still keeping an eye at your stance. You figured it would probably be best if you two stuck with something more light and carefree. In a nutshell, anything but the peculiar wonderland house.

• At the end of the day, the two of you are exhausted from all that workout. While closing up Angel's Share after a long night, Diluc catches you falling asleep at the front bar and gently drapes his coat over your shoulders.

• His initial plan was to wake you up since the ideal place to sleep would be the Dawn Winery but Diluc didn't have the heart to wake you up. He simply sits on the stool beside you while leaning down to memorize your serene look, thankful to have been able to experience what it's like to live in a city of freedom again.

{Kaeya}

"Oh dear, is this what they call a height advantage? I suppose I can go a little easy on you all to make things a bit more exciting."

• You gave him that look where you weren't quite sure if he was lying or telling the truth. Could the Cavalry Captain be afraid of heights? You'll never know.

• So regardless, you guys decided to fly together which at first was meant to be a competition of who can collect the most flowers. You managed to land safely with the highest score while your boyfriend was still behind, trying to avoid the dusty balloons.

"Seems like I went a little too easy on you," he jests. You roll your eyes.

"Alright, let's go for another round then."

• This time you had a different idea. Just a few seconds before the game started, you took him by the hand and jumped straight off the platform. The whole time as the two of you were soaring through the air, you held him tight.

• "Now it shouldn't be so scary anymore!"

• The surprised expression he had lasted for a moment before melting into a smile, "How very cunning of you, darling."

• Your security gave him the chance to admire the scenery from the skies, it was a breathtaking view. How your hair whips beautifully against the wind and your pink-tainted cheeks from the cold, breathtaking.

• Though, holding the other meant you had to collect the flowers with one hand and one arm which proved to be very unproductive. Even once the both of you landed within the garland of windwheel asters, Kaeya was still holding your hand.

• Kaeya often treats fearful situations as thrilling experiences but the outcome in the end turned out to be more favourable than he had initially planned it to be. Though if you’re a novice windglider beware, this man will let you go at random times just so he can see your reactions.

"What an interesting diversion. Since everyone's in high spirits, it would truly be a shame if I didn't pitch in a little!"

• You were extremely curious of Kaeya's musical skills since his nature tends to lean towards the frivolous side. Unexpectedly, his tunes and playing style sounded melancholic as well. Most likely due to the fact of growing up in the Ragnvindr household.

• Since he hangs out at the bars during late nights quite often, Kaeya would know how to play a few tunes he picked up along the way. He would love to give you a full on performance! Anything for his sweetheart~ Though keep staring and you might find him teasing you about it after.

• Honestly Kaeya also makes an excellent teacher. His way of wording makes everything so easy to understand which is helpful to avoid silly mistakes. He teaches you very simple lyre pieces, brushing his fingers over yours every once in a while to help you adjust the right position.

• You think he's doing this on purpose to get you bothered but Kaeya simply feigns ignorance.

• But if you do know how to play a lyre, it would be a session where both of you share your songs. Out of all of them, there was one song that stuck out the most:

You felt a sense of longing in the tune Kaeya played. Far too slow to match the upbeat atmosphere of Mondstadt during the day and not as romantic as it would be during the night. Instead, it seemed to reflect the emotion of sadness, like hands reaching to a far away land which turned out to be nothing but a mirage.

"Where did you learn that piece? I never heard it before," you comment shortly after he finished.

Kaeya hums playfully while shooting a grin to match, "I composed it myself."

"Is that so?" You learned to not take everything at face value when talking to your lover, "Then where did you draw your inspiration from. It doesn't seem like you'd create it on a whim when your expertise lies in swordsmanship."

"Aha just when did you become so keen sweetheart?"

"Since I started dating you."

"Touche."

There would be a momentary pause and during times like these, it was easy to tell that the subject was related to his homeland. Kaeya always found it hard to bring up the topic, even before he met Crepus, music was one of the very last traces that tied his life to the scarce warms days of Khaenriah.

"What's the song called?"

Thankful that you changed the subject, Kaeya answers, "Frozen Dreams. At least, that is what I can remember."

"Frozen Dreams?" You pondered quietly, "I wonder what that title means."

"Do you like it that much?"

"Of course, that piece must be very important to you right? I would like to learn it," You pump your fists determinedly, I would like to learn about you as much as I can.

He looks at you, lips slightly parted at your genuine declaration. Although you may be tenacious when it came to his secrets, Kaeya did not doubt that it was also one of the quirks he loved about you most. With a small chuckle, he complies your request, “It would be my pleasure.”

Sometimes its best to leave the words unspoken. Perhaps another day when Kaeya feels ready to tell you everything, for now he will revel in the present where the intagible feelings of music and emotion do the speaking.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #diluc #Kaeya #nya-writes

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daylight-imagines · 3 years

Text

Hate Me (Azriel x Reader)

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Warning(s):

Word Count: 714

Prompt: “Sometimes I wonder if you even like me…it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”

---

Years had passed since you joined Rhysand’s inner circle. For the most part it had gone well. They’d all warmed up to you quickly- even Amren. All of them except Azriel. He genuinely seemed to dislike you. You’d mentioned it to Mor once and she’s just told you it’s how he was.

That wasn’t what was happening here. You knew Azriel was quiet and preferred to observe more than actually interact with people. But around the others that front softened a bit. He would even joke with Cassian and Mor. Just being in the same room as them made him seem lighter.

None of that happened with you. Most of the time he just ignored you but when he couldn't his answers were short and never went further than answering whatever you had asked him.

At first you understood. He didn’t know you so there was no reason for him to like you, but that excuse didn’t really work anymore. You’d known each other a long time and he’d never warmed up to you. It didn’t make sense. Of course it made your current situation even more uncomfortable.

Rhysand needed to send someone to the Summer Court to attend a festival they were having. Cassian was banned and Mor was already away in Winter. So that left you. You would have been fine going one your own, but Rhys insisted that Azriel go with you. For safety reasons. Normally you could accept that reasoning, but there was a look in his eye that told you he was up to something.

That all led you to stand at the side of Tarquin’s ballroom watching as courtiers danced. The Illyrian at your side had barely spoken a whole sentence to you since you left the Night Court and you felt your annoyance rising. He could at least pretend to like you while you were doing jobs for Rhys, but he couldn’t even do that. Your sigh must have been louder than you intended because he turned to look at you.

“Something wrong?”

“Not at all.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You seem angry.”

“I’m fine. I’d be even better if you quit glaring at anyone who looks at me. Some of us would rather dance than brood on the sidelines all night.”

You could have sworn you saw the side of his lips twitch but wrote it off as your imagination. He didn’t say anything else, just turned his eyes back to the room.

You scoffed and leaned back against the wall. “Sometimes I wonder if you even like me…it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”

You could feel his eyes on you but kept looking at the crowd. It should matter. If he didn’t like you it shouldn’t matter, but you couldn’t help the fact that it hurt. Because you did like him. He was good. You could see how much he cared about the others and you couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to be cared about like that.

“I don’t hate you.”

“No?”

“I was...hesitant. I didn’t trust you when we first met. ”

“It’s understandable,” you said and when silent for a moment. “What about now I’ve tried to be your friend, but you don’t seem very interested.”

He didn’t answer at first, so you thought that was the end of your conversation and looked out over the crowd.

“Now, it’s hard to be around you and not want more.”

“What do you-”

“I don’t just want to be your friend. I want more.”

Your eyes snapped back to his. “Oh.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t. I just thought you hated me until a few moments ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

You stayed silent for a few minutes.

“What if I felt the same? Wanted more.”

“I would feel like an idiot,” he said, earning a laugh from you.

You turned your eyes back to the room. You felt better than you had in awhile.

Azriel moved from beside you and you didn’t have a chance to speak before he was standing in front of you hand outstretched.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Really?”

“Better than brooding on the sidelines.”

You laughed and took his hand so he could lead you to the dance floor.

---

A/N: This took forever. I’m so sorry.

ACOTAR taglist:

@coffeewithoutcaffeine | @slytherin-bunny | @theamazingworldofcarol

Masterlist | Ask | Prompt List

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel imagine #azriel acotar x reader #acotar imagine

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k3lynn · 3 years

Text

mine — katsuki bakugou

yandere! katsuki bakugou x reader

cw: yandere au, 3rd year bakugou, violence, reader got female genitalia, anger, off-“screen” murder, mention of (minor) character death, blood, lucidness, possessiveness, degradation, manipulation, stalking, threats, masturbation, implication of sex, swearing, assault, narcissism, horror, slightly delusional katsuki, panic attack, non con, mention of suicide

- I do not condone any of the behavior here, nor do I try to romanticize it. (definition: make it seem like a good thing) any future/current dark fics are purely for entertainment purposes. Also, I don’t think bakugou would EVER do this- I’m just using some dark traits he used to have and twisting them to fit this situation. Not completely proof read and edited, I am exhausted right now I’m sorry. I say some mean things about some characters but I don’t mean it 💗

words: 1.8k

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚈𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

Look at me.

WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT ME.

Poor little Y/N. You’ve caught the Big Bad Wolf’s attention. Ready to snatch you up and drag you into the deepest parts of the forest where no one will ever find you.

You’ll be all mine, and I’ll be the only thing you’ll ever have to see again.

You’ve been in the same class for 3 years now- and all he had to show for it is an occasional wave, and a shy little “Hi Bakugou” every morning that made his heart leap out of his chest.

Enough for most, but not for him.

In turn, he would tsk. Facing away and setting his head down on the desk- attempting to hide the roaring blush adorning his cheeks and the subtle shuffling in his pants- the way your voice alone could make his balls tighten in need.

Still- you give him merely a glance. He is always around you, but your attention is given to someone else.

Any extra would overlook his grumbling for typical-Katsuki doing his own thing. In reality, he’s holding himself back from snapping and taking you by force.

He wants you to come to him.

You have no reason not to. He’s perfect. Probably the best student to ever enter U.A. High, and on path to become the best pro hero to ever graduate from it.

Coming first in both the Entrance Exams AND the sports festival- a victory he still denies, holding some of the highest grades in class- 3rd only to some geek girl he could easily out-rank in combat and that shitty half n’ half. Even perceptiveness, intellect, and determination that can rival dumb Deku.

He even possesses great skills in cooking and music- Katsuki is a natural-born genius. Anybody who isn’t conscious towards his incredible talents might as well be living under a rock-

Unbeknownst to you, he’s giving you the generous chance to decide when you’ll be his. But his patience wears thinner every day.

It would have only taken a second to turn around in your seat and notice his piercing red eyes glaring at the back of your head.

So why don’t you notice me.

He doesn’t understand why it’s you he obsesses about. He can’t even remember when this whole mess started.

He tried denying his feelings. But quickly- they built up and festered inside him, begging to come out. Love, possessiveness, same thing.

Whether it be watching your twist and turn in the obstacle course- then running to the nearest bathroom to furiously grip his cock.

Snatching your chapstick when you’re not looking and rubbing it all around his own lips- imagining that’s what your lips would taste like if you just kissed him-

Restraining you during combat training by wrapping his arms around you- squeezing your breast a little more than necessary. Pinning you to the floor until you admit defeat.

Or even sneaking into your dorm while you’re in the shower to grab a new pair of panties from your dirty laundry, adding it to the stash he keeps hidden under his bed.

Stalking you. Keeping you close at all times without you even knowing it.

Indeed, he knows he’s a sick and twisted human being.

But by now he hardly cares- he’s worked too hard to ever even imagine of changing his perfect target. Nobody is more deserving of you than him.

So if he has to confront, threaten, and beat every single person in this stupid school to monopolize you for himself- he gladly will. Anyone who goes againts that is challenging him.

He scoffs anytime a boy approaches you- it’s well known around school that anyone who attempts to buddy up with you mysteriously ends up in a hospital room with no recollection of what happened. People even started seeing you as a sign of bad luck.

He’s nice enough to allow you some friends though. But only ones who will guarantee you’ll be around him as much as possible.

So you sit with him, Kirishima, racoon eyes, dunce face, and tape boy in lunch. No one else. Right in front of him.

You’re chatting away with Mina, but unusually, something special came up in conversation.

He always stays focused on his lunch- switching between listening in and day dreaming about bending you over the lunch table and grinding on your ass-

Katsuki’s stomach dropped. His eyes widened- what did Mina just say?

There’s a boy in the management department, a quirkless 2nd year nobody smart enough to somehow get into U.A.

And he asked you out on a date after school.

Shit.

No.

No no no no-

No- this isn’t how it’s supposed to-

My throat burns.

When did he- when did you-

You’re going to say no, right?

I cant breathe.

You don’t like anyone- I know this

I know everything about you- I-

My chest hurts-

You’re mine.

And if he thinks I’ll share then I’ll-

“Mina stop being so loud please...” your delicate little voice whispered.

The rest of the table already took notice of what was going on- bombarding you with questions that made you flustered.

“Woah woah- Y/n, what’s your answer?” dunce face peeps out, Bakugou swore he could smack that grin off his face right then and there.

Katsuki turns to look at you again- a chill traveling down his spine once he made eye contact, but your stare quickly fell to the floor.

“I’m not sure yet- probably not.. ha.” You shrugged- a light pink dusting over your cheeks. The others, satisfied, dismiss the topic.

Had it have been anybody else observing, they wouldn’t have thought much of it. But Katsuki knows you like the back of his hand. Successfully deceiving him would be harder than taking down All For One.

You’re lying... aren’t you? In front of him too- All because of this quirkless fucking loser-

Katsuki hates lies.

I’m going to kill him.

The walk back to your dorm was disappointing to say the least. But you can’t expect someone to be in the best of moods when they’ve been stood up.

You almost couldn’t believe it either- he had seemed so kind and genuine that you stood there for an extra 2 hours. But that’s your luck with boys-

‘I hope you got a good laugh out of it, jerk.’ You huffed before inserting the key into your rooms lock.

Turning on the lights, you allow your eyes to adjust for a moment before stepping inside and walking to your desk.

“You were waiting for that jackass for so long I almost started thinking you would never come back...”

You let out a startled cry before dropping your keys and whirling around in a flash- recognizing Katsuki’s back as he slowly closes the door.

“Bakugou? Why are you-“

“was he really that special.”

“What do you mean was....“ It’s then you noticed the blood dripping down his arms and hands- your door decorated with the same shade of crimson.

“oh my god.. Bakugou,”

That’s why the poor boy never showed up.

You knew about Katsuki’s “little” crush on you for a while now. His stares weren’t exactly the most subtle after all-

You found his uncertainty adorable, heck, a part of you was waiting for him to confess. But you would have never imagined his infatuation went this far.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll never love you as much as I do.”

He lifts his head, and your eyes meet his. Bloodshot- as if he’d been crying, but the evident smirk on his face showed nothing but pure malice.

“Not that he’ll ever get the chance to anyways”

He’s too fast, too close to the door, he has all the advantage in this situation. But you have to try. You have to leave this room at this very moment or you may never make it out alive. There’s no reasoning with him.

You clutch your heart. He steps forward, and you instinctively bolt to the door.

A few easy moves and he has you pinned by the neck on the ground, legs bent and used to hold your arms from jerking too much. His free hand is outstretched, creating small explosions that made you automatically stiffen your movement.

“Bakugou please- I won’t ever tell anyone, we can forget about this and I’ll pretend it neve-“

“I don’t need you to be quiet. I’m the boy who rejected a direct offer from the League of Villains, one of the best students in U.A. high- even if you do rat me out, they’ll never believe you...”

His grip on your neck tightened- nails cutting through skin and little droplets of blood start showing up. His hand starts heating up and a panic courses through your veins.

“I’ll kill you before they even begin to suspect me.”

Choked sobs escape your lips from the pain and fear surging through your body- “I- I thought you said you lo-loved me.”

“I do... that’s why you’ll be mine forever.”

He leaned down, low enough for you to feel his warm breath- then used his tongue to sadistically lick off the tears running down your cheek, a salty but satisfying flavor entering his mouth.

“In this life, and the next. It’s up to you when we see the later.”

You nod, hoping he relaxes the pressure on your neck. His face softens, something you swore you would never see in Bakugou. He releases his hold.

“You made me mess up your neck, next time don’t be so mean.”

He tilted your chin up, observing the scratches and bruises littered all around it. As soon as he determines there’s no serious injury, he picks you up to lay you on your bed. Climbing in next to you and wrapping an arm around your hips.

“Couples cuddle like this all the time don’t they.”

You gave him silence, although he didn’t mind. With one glare he had you shuffling to move closer to his chest.

“they also kiss.”

You know that right now, there’s no point in fighting. So you give in to what he wants in hopes that one day, you’ll break free from the hold he secretly had on you for so long. You’ll play along. You’ll survive.

You shudder as his hands reach to cradle your cheek, wiping the blood of the boy all over it. He loved it. It proved he won. He gave a light kiss to your lips before attacking your neck, set on putting a new type of bruise on you.

“You should start calling me Katsuki.”

“Ka- Katsuki.” You barely managed to whimper out.

He caresses your hair, cooing soft whispers into your ear in an attempt to calm your sniffling. An action you would have seen as sweet if it weren’t for the constant threat of death over your shoulder.

Your breath hitches in horror as you feel his warm hands trail down your body, gripping your smooth inner thigh before delicately starting to drag his fingers up.

“You know...

You silently beg for him to stop.

“There’s one more thing couples do.”

-if anyone is interested- should I make a part 2? (Future edit, I’m not satisfied with this, I might end up rewriting in the future)

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thunderheadfred · 3 years

Text

🦈Kirishima HC’s🦈

Absolutely no one asked for this i just like him a lot

He’s an adult in all of these. 20s-30s at least. Some NSFW because I’m a big perv. Minors do not interact. Shoo.

- - - - -

General:

He is in the dictionary under Himbo, right next to Kronk.

Works part-time as a fitness instructor before making a name for himself as a pro hero. Most of his clients are middle-aged women, because he makes people feel safe. Before long, word gets around and he amasses this like. Loyal army of jacked housewives and older ladies who are his biggest possible fans. They mother-hen him like crazy.

Has a large and complicated extended family. Lots of cousins. You will never learn all their names, don’t even try. I have no idea if his parents have canon occupations but no matter what Horikoshi says, they actually own a mountain onsen. Kirishima went to the city by himself to go to middle/high school, his family is all off in the country somewhere and he gets homesick a lot but never admits it. He’s broke for a long time even after making it as a pro hero, because he sends most of his money back home.

He’s a dog dad. You cannot, WILL not convince me otherwise. Big dogs. Small dogs. Fancy dogs. Ugly dogs. He has a whole pack. He calls them all baby, sweetie, pupper, the worst and most embarrassing baby talk. Tells them about his day. All of his furniture is wrecked. He’s an active member in online dog groups, where he is careful to use a pseudonym and never show his face, but eventually people are going to figure out that Red Riot’s dogs look an awful lot like this one user’s....

He’s in a casual taiko group, always on the o-daiko. Loves participating in festivals and parades. He has never, ever, not once, worn a shirt while drumming. Probably has been gifted at least one antique taiko drum for his hero work, and he keeps it in his house but is too afraid to play it because it’s scary valuable “uhh it’s definitely haunted”

Regularly goes out drinking. Socially and responsibly, like clockwork, always with the same people. He’s a goddamned lightweight, and no one understands why. Will mope if he has to miss a night out at the izakaya.

So he’s clean, but sloppy. House looks like a tornado ripped through it, and nothing he owns matches. Not a single thing. I mentioned the dogs.

Will absolutely use “manly” as a replacement for “awesome,” and will constantly tell you how manly you are. Your actual gender is a non-issue. If you hang out with him for more than five minutes you’re manly as hell now.

He cries a lot? Sometimes it’s for show but he gets genuinely misty-eyed over the dumbest things. Do NOT show him pictures of puppies.

He’s good at braiding hair. His or yours. When his hair isn’t hardened, he likes doing all kinds of wacky stuff with it. He usually keeps it long enough for braids, ponies, buns, quirk-assisted faux-hawks, whatever. Mina has given him many bad ideas. He will definitely steal your hair bands and accessories, if you use them.

His fridge is just like, meat and beer. He will, if forced, consume perhaps one single vegetable. Unfortunately, his B.O. reflects this. God bless him - he showers and bathes daily, because he works out a lot and is just generally hygienic. But don’t ever touch his socks barehanded.

He wears the cheapest, most predictable cologne you can imagine, the kind that comes in an aerosol can and punches a hole in the ozone every time he sprays his pits. It smells stupidly good on him. How. so fucking manly. you kind of hate him for getting away with it.

- - - - -

And now, the 🌶 Spicy Ones 🌶

Does not date or hook up much; wants a serious relationship.

Has a tough time getting dates, weirdly. He’s still secretly insecure, but mostly he’s got rocks for brains and never knows how to flirt. He ends up friendzoning most of the people interested in him, because he is, in fact, a little too chivalrous for his own good and can never make the first move. He’s an emotional open book, but clueless romantically. I recommend being extremely straightforward. Draw him a map if you have to.

Is afraid to kiss you too deeply because of the teeth. Will take a lot of gentle encouragement to get him comfortable, but once he knows you’re safe, he’s going to be kissing you all the time. Like, too much. People are gawking, Kiri, for God’s sake.

He radiates massive doses of husband/dad energy. Will immediately marry the hell out of you. If you are capable of and willing to have his children, you are going to get extremely pregnant. Very quickly. Not necessarily a breeding kink (though why not), he just really wants to start a family with you.

He’s Big. Just huge. Tall and broad, and also... his dick is a summit and you will need to prepare for the climb. He’s had problems in the past because no, not everybody wants ALL THAT inside them. That said, if you can handle it? Woof.

Hard as a rock is No Joke with this man. Can and WILL use his quirk on his dick. If you don’t think that’s the first thing he mastered as a teenager I dont know what to tell you. Ever used a glass dildo? Well buckle up cuz it’s like if a massive glass dildo whispered sweet nothings in your ear and held you close in big strong arms and fucked you till you cried. It’s a sometimes thing. Otherwise you’d simply pass away.

He loves your brains. Your smarts and wit are a huge turn on, and he gets a boner when you use a word he doesn’t know. He also loves fucking your brains completely out, so that you cant use any words at all.

He’s a devout church-going body-worshipper. He’s so jacked that’s it’s constantly intimidating, like, how dare you stand next to this chiseled statue of a man?! but whether you love power-lifting with him or would rather die than exercise, he’s gonna treat you like the prettiest fucking piece of cake on planet earth.

Size kink ahoy; he gets his big grabby mitts on you... and you psychologically lose three feet. Doesn’t matter how tall or small or fat or thin you are, you are getting groped, squeezed, and manhandled. You didn’t even know it was possible to get thrown around like that; always onto something soft.

Not dominant. Not unless you ask very, very nicely. had a brief pushy phase at the peak of his teenage manliness obsession, unconsciously trying to be more like Bakugou, but he quickly realized controlling people wasn’t really him. It certainly isn’t very manly. Doesn’t want any toxic masculinity in his love life, even as roleplay.

That said, he can and will be a soft dom, if that’s what you want. After some practice, he’d get pretty good at it too. But his natural sexual groove is goofy, a bit awkward. Usually finds a non-sexual excuse to touch you at first; prepare to get tickled a lot. If you sit in his lap it’s all over.

If you get dominant with him, even a little, he’s gonna turn to putty in your hands. Go ahead and boss that big dumb puppy around. Nothing turns him on like seeing you get exactly what you want.

You’ll have morning wood pressed up against your ass. Every damn day. He might hump and grope you in his sleep, moaning a little. Usually it just wears off. If you wake him up to fuck, he’ll have no idea what’s going on but will be like “hell yeah i guess this is happening”

Gives oral like a starving man. Has absolutely zero reservations, because he knows his tongue and hands can’t hurt you. Will be as loud and messy as possible. If you get embarrassed or shy about it, he’s going to mumble sweet talk directly into your junk until your teeth fall out.

He’s vocal in bed. Growly. A moaning groaning disaster. He says the sweetest, gentlest things... has the cleanest dirty talk you’ve ever heard, but tenderness filtered through his bourbon-barrel chest comes out all dark and rumbly, especially when he’s close. you feel his “I love you” in your bones

He thinks making his partner cum is the manliest thing he can do. Any orgasm is good, but if you cum untouched on his dick, he’ll be riding that high for days

#kirishima headcanons #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #gender neutral #bnha #smut #mha #kinda #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha x reader #mha x reader #fred writes #avert your eyes chilren #i dont know how to tag things #kirishima eijirou

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

Text

Say Mercy (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Summary: When Deku bets Shinsou that he can win in a tickle fight against him, Shinsou takes him up on the offer to find out.

A/N: YES YES YES!! This isn't officially ShinDeku but it's those two boys tickling each other and I liiiiive for this! I was so excited to finally write for them again! Enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 2,302

~~~

“Oh, give me a break,” Shinsou groaned, letting out a defeated sigh. His character spun off the track and had to be rescued, costing him precious seconds as Kaminari’s character whizzed by him into third place. “Dang it, I was actually doing well that time.”

Kami smirked, eyes glued to the screen. “Sorry, bro. Peach waits for no man!”

“She waits for Mario,” Deku pointed out.

“Details.”

The three of them were seated in the living room, having claimed the TV for the night in 1-A’s dorms. Deku was finally getting his wish to become better friends with the purple-haired boy. He’d been elated when his phone had buzzed with a text from him asking if he wanted to join in on some Mario Kart, and he nearly broke another bone in his haste to get to the living room. Kami had seemed concerned, but Shinsou looked amused.

Now they were on their final race in a four-race grand prix, and Kaminari was dominating them both. Deku was content to hang out in fourth and fifth place, but he did feel bad for Shinsou, who had gradually gotten better with each new track until he’d finally claimed third for the first two laps of the last race, only to be thwarted with a red shell.

Kami crossed the line in second, with Shinsou in fourth and Deku in seventh. The electric hero pumped his fists in the air. “Yeah, baby! Gold trophy!”

Deku and Shinsou exchanged amused glances.

“Just wait, Kaminari,” Deku said, grinning. “One of these days Shinsou is going to catch up to you and then you’ll be eating those words. And his dust.”

“Sure, sure.” Kami waved his hand, unbothered. “But I’m going to enjoy the moment while it lasts. I always lose against Bakugou; you gotta let me have this, Midoriya.” Just then his phone buzzed, and he let out a groan of his own. “Ah, crap. Speaking of Bakugou, I promised him and the others I’d study with them tonight. Stupid math, anyway.” He got to his feet and waved, heading out of the living room. “Night, guys. Have fun fighting for last place.”

“Rude!” Deku laughed, waving him out. “Go on. See you tomorrow.”

Then – for the first time – it was just Shinsou and Deku.

“Um,” Shinsou started, “perhaps I should head out, too. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“What? No! You’re more than welcome,” Deku said hurriedly, worried he wouldn’t get the opportunity to talk with his newest friend one-on-one. “Want to do another grand prix? We can knock it down from that 200cc insanity to something more manageable. I’m sure you can get first place if it’s a little easier.”

“With a handicap, you mean.”

“No!” Crap, think about your words, Deku! “No, I just mean that it might be smarter to start with something a little easier, that way you can work your way up. You can beat him on 200cc eventually, I just thought—”

“Midoriya,” Shinsou said, stopping his rambling with a smile. “I was kidding. Relax.”

“Oh. R-Right. Sorry.”

Shinsou chuckled, picking up his controller. “Let’s try 100cc. That way I’m not starting from the complete bottom of the Mario Kart ladder.”

“You know, you might be really good at Sonic racing instead,” Deku suggested, swapping out his player three controller for the player one controller Kami had left behind. “It’s a little more involved, but it’s also technique based more than just random luck. I think you’d be great at it.”

“Sonic has a racing game?”

“Well, yeah. It’s Sonic.”

“I suppose that’s a good point.”

From there the two of them settled into conversation with ease, discussing everything from video games to schoolwork to Shinsou’s latest run-in with Bakugou.

“I can’t believe Kacchan agreed to owe you a favor. He hates owing favors.”

“I got the sense that he was desperate, even if he wasn’t saying as much. It’s satisfying, honestly. I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyway, but it feels good to put that hothead in his place.”

Deku’s lips twitched in a small smile. “The only time I’ve ever really been able to ‘put him in his place’ is when we have tickle fights.”

“You have tickle fights with that maniac?”

“He’s my oldest friend, so it kind of comes with the territory. But it’s fun, too. I like it.”

Shinsou paused for a moment, not reacting at all to the fact that his character once again got knocked from first to fourth with a blue shell. “Sorry. I should be more sensitive. I didn’t know you two were such good friends.”

“Well…” Deku sighed. “We’re not good friends, really. But we’re not enemies either. It’s kind of weird.” He did his best to explain his current standing with Bakugou.

“I see.” Shinsou nodded. “Well, even so, I’ll try to be more delicate in the future. Despite my grievances, I know he does have friends in these dorms, as do I.”

Deku smiled at him, taking his eyes from the screen for a moment to observe his profile. “So you’re making friends after all, Mr. I’m-not-here-to-make-friends?”

“I wasn’t lying.” Shinsou smirked. “But you are nothing if not persistent individuals. You and Kaminari, especially. But…I’m grateful. It feels good to have people actually want to hang out with me.”

Deku went silent for a moment. He could only imagine the kind of social isolation Shinsou went through because of his quirk. He thought back to their fight at the sports festival. How genuinely angry and upset Shinsou had been. He wished he knew what to say, but before he could formulate a response, the boy from 1-C was changing the subject.

“So you and Bakugou have tickle fights, eh? Who wins those?”

“Um…m-mostly Kacchan.”

“I wonder why.”

Deku eyed him again. “Are you saying you don’t think I can win them?”

“Not against him, certainly.”

“I’ve won before! Once or twice…”

“How many times has he won?”

“Look, the number’s not important. What’s important is that we have fun.”

Shinsou laughed, and it was such a surprise the sound actually startled Deku for a moment. “I suppose that’s all that matters, right?”

Feeling emboldened by the conversation and that laugh, Deku challenged, “I bet I could win a tickle fight against you.”

“Oh?” Shinsou crossed the finish line, then turned to look at Deku, who suddenly grew nervous as he waited to cross a few places behind. “Bold words, Midoriya.”

Having finished the race, Deku turned to look at him, suddenly feeling flustered. “I-I mean…since I’ve tickled you before, and I know where your worst spot is already. I just feel like I’d have an advantage…” He trailed off. He knew where Bakugou’s worst spot was, too, but that rarely helped him win those tickle fights.

“I suppose I have been curious how ticklish you actually are, since I’ve never seen it for myself. I’ve only heard stories. Do you seriously get tickled almost every day in this class?”

“U-Um…y-yeah, I do. But I don’t mind.”

Shinsou smirked. “Which means you like it.”

Deku could feel himself blushing now. “Yeah.”

“All right, Midoriya,” Shinsou said, shifting in such a way that the green-haired boy instinctively scrambled back, blushing even harder when his friend chuckled. “I want in. You think you can win a tickle fight against me? How much are you willing to wager?”

“Um…” Deku scrambled to think of something. “I-I don’t know…what do you want?”

“A thousand yen says I win.”

“Oh, yeah? W-Well…two thousand says I win!”

“You’re that confident? Very well. Quirks or no quirks?”

Deku froze. “N-No quirks. It’s not because I’m afraid of you, I just—”

“It’s okay, Midoriya. No quirks is actually advantageous for me, since mine doesn’t help me physically.” Shinsou smirked, pushing his controller aside. “Ready?”

“Y-Yeah. Ready.”

Deku barely had the words out before Shinsou was on him, shoving him to the floor with surprising speed and strength, wiggling his fingers into his sides.

“Eeep! Ahahahahahahaha, nohohohohohoho!” Deku giggled, trying to bat Shinsou’s hands away. “No fahahahahahahair! There wasn’t eheheheheheven a countdohohohown!”

“I asked if you were ready, and you said yes,” Shinsou replied calmly, grinning at the mess he’d made of 1-A’s most promising student, all with just a couple of light scribbles. “If you were lying, that’s your own fault.”

“G-Gehehehehehet off!” Deku squealed, reaching up to squeeze Shinsou’s ribs, pleased with the bright smile he got in response. He squeezed harder, willing himself to reach both hands up despite the continuing tickle attack on his own sides. “Get ohohohohohohoff!”

“N-No,” Shinsou grunted, obviously fighting back giggles of his own. He was tempted to reach for what he knew was a good spot, but decided against it for the moment. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right now he wanted to get to know every weak spot he could. He darted his own fingers up to Deku’s ribs and vibrated. “Heh, h-how’s it feel, Midoriya?”

“Fihihihihihihihine!” Deku shoved his hands up under Shinsou’s arms in retaliation. The purple-haired boy retracted his hands to bring his arms in protectively, giving Deku the opening he needed to push him over and grab at every ticklish spot he could think of. Ribs, sides, belly. He went for them all in rapid succession. “W-What about you, Shinsou? A little ticklish, huh?”

“D-Don’t – you cahahahan’t act like y-yohohou don’t already knohohow!” Shinsou protested, curling up into the fetal position on the floor, chuckling into the carpet.

“Why? Does it fluster you when I do that?” Deku used the opportunity to grab at his friend’s knees and squeeze. Shinsou kicked his legs out so hard in response he almost took Deku out with them. “Whoa!”

“S-Sohohorry,” Shinsou giggled, batting at the hands that had returned to his sides.

“Bad spot?”

“Nohohot really. Just surprised mehehehehe.”

“You’re not really fighting back, you know~” Deku teased, amused by the realization. “Do you want to owe me two thousand yen?”

“Juhuhuhust indulging a lihihihihittle. Dohohohon’t worry…” Shinsou suddenly shot upright and dug into Deku’s underarms. “I’ll still win this tickle fight!”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Deku screeched, falling back onto the floor with laughter bursting from his lungs. “NOHOHOHOHOHO!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!!”

“Ooh~ Bad spot?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“No? You sure? You seem like you’re lying.” Shinsou grabbed one of Deku’s wrists and pinned it above his head, drilling deep into his underarm with his free hand.

Deku shrieked, tossing his head back and laughing unabashedly. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! SHIHIHIHIHIHIHINSOU!!” He desperately tried to grab at any ticklish spot he could with his other arm. He managed to succeed in scribbling against Shinsou’s side, causing the taller boy to choke out a giggle and unpin him so he could fight back.

Without really thinking about it, Deku sat up and grabbed his hips, digging in deep.

Shinsou burst into his own round of laughter, grasping at Deku’s wrists and trying to push him away while also desperately trying to keep from falling over again. “NONONO – NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE YOU CHEHEHEHEHEATER!!”

“Cheater? There was no rule against worst spots, Shinsou.” Deku grinned, feeling a rush of happy satisfaction at having made Shinsou laugh so freely without even needing to pin him down first. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

“SHUT UP!! DOHOHOHOHOHON’T TEHEHEHEASE ME, MIDORIYAHAHAHA!!” Shinsou flailed for a few moments more before grabbing Deku’s hips as well. “TAKE THIS!!”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Now Deku was laughing hysterically as well, trying to fight his attacker off while still keeping up his own tickling assault. “YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHERK!!”

“YOU STAHAHAHAHAHAHARTED IT!!”

It was a hilarious sight, the two of them tickling each other’s hips in the middle of the living room floor, Mario Kart long forgotten on the TV behind them, laughing loudly and desperately trying to push each other off. In the end, it came down to which of them was more ticklish, and soon the tides began to turn in Shinsou’s favor.

“HA!! CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T LAHAHAHAHAST FOREVER, CAN YOHOHOHOHOU, MIDORIYA?!”

“NOHOHOHOHOOOOO!!” Deku whined as he finally relented his own attack to focus on defense, grabbing Shinsou’s wrists and trying to push him away. “NO FAHAHAHAHAHAHAIR!!”

“I can’t help it if you’re just that ticklish,” Shinsou teased, still smiling uncontrollably as he finally managed to push Deku to the floor and straddle him, kneading into his hips deeply. “Much better. This is how I suspected this would end.”

Deku fought for a few more moments, then finally gave up and relented, kicking his legs wildly and holding onto Shinsou’s wrists weakly, feeling the muscles in his hands move as they tickled him, only making him more sensitive. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FIHIHIHIHIHIHIHINE!! FINE YOU WIHIHIHIHIHIHIN!! I GIHIHIHIHIHIVE UP!!”

Shinsou smirked, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his friend’s desperate cries. “Say mercy.”

“MEHEHEHEHEHEHERCY!! MERCY, MERCYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!”

For a long moment, Shinsou kept up his assault, not saying a word, making Deku shriek with ticklish panic at the fleeting thought that maybe he wouldn’t stop after all. But then, finally, it was all over, and he could breathe again. He gulped in large doses of oxygen greedily, reaching up to wipe the corners of his eyes where mirthful tears had started to form.

“You okay?” Shinsou asked, chuckling a little at the sight.

Deku sputtered out some leftover giggles and sat up. “Y-Yeah. I’m good.”

“You owe me two thousand yen.”

“Jeez, you don’t waste any time, do you, Shin?”

Shin? The boy from 1-C smiled a little at the nickname. “Not if I can help it, no. Told you I’d take you down.”

“In a tickle fight, maybe,” Deku conceded, picking up his player one controller and brandishing it with a new kind of challenging spark in his eye. “But I bet you still can’t win gold even on 100cc!”

Shinsou laughed, grabbing his own controller and knocking it against Deku’s like they were doing a fist-bump. “You’re on.”

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #izuku #midoriya #deku #hitoshi #shinsou #shindeku #video games #tickle fight #cute #fluff #tickling #ticklish #tickle

150 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Gavin’s 2021 Birthday R&S

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an R&S which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This was released on 24 July 2021 ]

[ Chapter One: Model Aircraft Competition ]

The cicadas outside the window are clamorous, and the dark green trees cover the blazing sun, casting shady and cooling patches.

This is an incredibly ordinary late afternoon. The summer vacation is about to arrive, and the classroom is filled with the buzzing chatter of students, as rowdy as usual.

Gavin is asleep on the seat next to the window. Sunlight passes through the crevices of leaves and linger on his shoulders, bright and indolent. However, he isn’t actually sleeping, and the conversation between his deskmate and the student in front of him drift to his ears clearly.

“Hey, are you going for that model aircraft competition the teacher mentioned a few days ago?”

“I heard all the middle schoolers in our city will be participating. Those who get prizes will have extra marks, and the person who gets first place can visit the Aviation Headquarters!”

“Then again, you’ll need the capabilities to win. If you're participating, I’ll watch.”

“Hehe, you speak as though the person who lags behind in every subject can bag a trophy.”

The two of them attack each other with taunting remarks. After lapsing into a moment of silence, they suddenly turn their gazes to Gavin simultaneously.

Gavin’s deskmate pokes his arm and calls out to him.

“Gavin, you aren’t asleep, are you?”

The figure wearing a blue and white school uniform remains plopped on the desk, unmoving. A slightly muffled response drifts from him.

“What is it?”

Gavin’s deskmate and the student sitting in front of him look at each other, then speak excitedly.

“Do you know about that recent model aircraft competition?”

Gavin lets out a “mm”.

“Aren’t you going to participate?”

“We had a discussion about it, and felt that in the entire class, you’re the only one with the capabilities to win a prize. The others are just a bunch of useless troops, and they’d be of no use even if they went.”

Gavin stirs slightly. His deskmate looks at him with anticipation. In the end, he simply cushions his head using the other arm.

“Not interested.”

“Huh?”

His deskmate stares at the back of his head in utter disbelief.

“Your dad’s a military officer, and you’ve seen more real planes since young as compared to the number of models we’ve played with. This competition is basically made for you.”

Gavin doesn’t respond. In the sunlight, a few strands of hair on the back of the youth’s head stick up disobediently, clearly showing that he isn’t in the best of moods.

At this moment, the dismissal bell rings. Along with the cheers from students, the classroom erupts into a state of chaos.

Gavin finally sits up. After stuffing the English book he used as a pillow into his sling bag, he turns around and leaves the classroom.

After the figure vanishes at the door, Gavin’s deskmate turns to the student sitting in front of him, expressing puzzlement.

“Why do you think Gavin doesn’t want to participate? A few days ago, I saw him at the bookstore outside school buying an Aeromodelling Atlas.”

The student in front of him shrugs, signalling that he has no idea.

“Maybe he got bored.”

[ Chapter Two - Proof ]

When Gavin reaches home, his mother has yet to return.

Placing his bag down, he suddenly notices a new post-it note on the fridge. On it, there’s a menu written in delicate handwriting: Stir-fried tomato and scrambled eggs, fried stuffed tofu, stir-fried duck with pineapples.

There’s a smiley face drawn on the last line, and the words “The dishes Little Gav loves to eat” are written at the side.

Only then does Gavin remember - his birthday is coming.

Every year, his mother would start preparations way in advance. It’s as if in her eyes, this particular day is even more worthy of celebration as compared to all other festivals.

And this year is no exception.

The post-it note is a little crooked. Gavin uses a fridge magnet to straighten it, then returns to his room.

The small room is covered with traces of youth. There are posters of basketball celebrities on the walls, and there's a globe and a few books on the desk.

After hesitating for a while, Gavin pulls open his bag and takes out a pamphlet. On it, there’s information pertaining to the model aircraft competition.

He reads the information seriously. A breeze blows the the white curtains, and the lights and shadows of dusk outline the youth’s straightened back profile, casting specks of light on a book. The words “Aeromodelling Atlas” can be vaguely seen.

While reading, he suddenly recalls the words his deskmate said-

“Your dad’s a military officer, and you’ve seen more real planes since young as compared to the number of models we’ve played with. This competition is basically made for you.”

His grip on the pamphlet abruptly tightens. Gavin rolls it into a ball and tosses it on the table, getting up in frustration and leaving the room.

Everything in the living room is clean and tidy. The school uniform he had changed out of is drying in the balcony. The large uniform drifts with the wind, and the air is filled with the fragrance of soap.

Even though there are clear traces of diligence and attentiveness, certain things can still be seen.

Model robots and clay crafts are displayed neatly on the left side of the built-in cupboard. However, there’s nothing on the right side.

All the cups and plates form a complete set. However, one cup is placed upside down on the cup rack. Although it has been a long time since it was last used, its owner wipes it spotlessly every day.

It’s as if the person she’s waiting for has always been around. Disappointment has repeated itself in endless cycles, but she continually harbours hope.

Gavin ignores such traces. He walks over to the fan in the living room, furrowing his brows as he squats down.

This fan has been spoilt for several days. Each time it’s turned on, it releases a strange clacking sound, akin to a heavy wooden door being pushed open with great effort.

When Wardia steps in with a bag of groceries, she sees Gavin half-squatting and studying that fan which has been broken for numerous days.

She calls out to Gavin.

“Little Gav, the fan is spoilt. I’ll ask a worker to fix it tomorrow. Don’t mind it.”

“When you called yesterday, the worker said that he wouldn’t be free these days. He probably won’t be able to drop by tomorrow either.”

Gavin pushes the outer shell of the fan lightly, and the white netted cover stirs gently, letting out a muffled buzz.

“No need to call for a worker. I can fix it.”

Wardia is stunned for a moment. Then, her eyes crinkle into a smile.

“When did our Little Gav become so incredible?”

Gavin stands up, his tone very certain.

“Leave it to me.”

Wardia casts a contemplative glance at Gavin. He’s going to be 14 soon. At this age, children tend to think about a lot of things, and may be exceptionally sensitive in certain areas.

Since a particular point in time, he had already been working hard and learning how to become a man with an indomitable spirit.

She can only nod.

“Okay. Mommy bought green beans today. I’ll prepare you a cooling soup later to alleviate the summer heat.”

With this, Gavin responds by heading to the kitchen to get a bowl to soak the beans for his mother.

The green coloured beans are immersed in water. Some float and some sink, and their colours are clear.

Wardia looks at Gavin. After a moment of hesitance, she speaks in a light-hearted and leisurely tone.

“Little Gav... Daddy took up an urgent mission recently and was sent to a very faraway place. He might not be around for your birthday this year again...”

“Mm, I’ve got it.”

Gavin’s tone is very indifferent. It’s as though whether that person returns or not has nothing to do with him at all. Wardia wants to say something, but after opening her mouth, she turns around, forcefully suppressing her emotions.

Gavin carries the bowl with both hands. When he sees his mother’s back, he suddenly grows quiet.

Why harbour hope when one clearly knows the ending?

After dinner, Gavin returns to his room. The pamphlet is still on the desk. He pauses for a moment, then reaches out to pick it up.

He’s going to be 14 years old soon.

Becoming one year older is something his mother looks forward to even more than he does. Because of this, she feels even guiltier with every year of his father’s absence.

Even though he knows he doesn’t need that person to wish him a happy birthday, he hopes that his mother can be a little more genuinely happy on his birthday.

Gavin makes a decision.

He smoothens the pamphlet on the desk. In a serious manner, he fills up the registration form on the back with his name. When he sets down the pen, his eyes sparkle with a certain determination.

He wants to participate in the model aircraft competition, and he wants to get first place.

He wants to use something he likes to prove to that person that he has already grown up, and has become even more incredible than he imagined.

“I’m going to prove to you that I can still do it without Evol.” He repeats resolutely once more.

If that person left this house back then because of how small and weak Gavin was, he’d definitely have a slightly different answer when he sees the current Gavin.

He’d definitely want to... return and see this family.

[ Chapter Three - Wings Waiting To Fly ]

Aeromodelling books and scattered materials are piled up in Gavin’s room. When Wardia enters while carrying chilled green bean lily bulb soup, she sees Gavin sitting cross-legged on the floor, using a vernier calliper to measure the wingspan.

Wardia carefully steps across the spare parts, placing the bowl on the desk.

“Little Gav, why are you so diligent in this competition? You’ve been fiddling around in your room for several days.”

Gavin wipes sweat off his forehead.

“This is a really large-scale competition. The teacher says that the person in first place will get to visit the Aviation Headquarters. I want to have a look.”

He’s determined not to tell his mother the true reason.

Wardia nods, giving him a “work hard” gesture.

“In that case, Little Gav must continue working hard and strive to be a guest at the aviation base.”

Wardia pauses, then looks at Gavin seriously.

“But Little Gav, even though this is a very rare opportunity, you must remember that no matter what happens at the end, Mommy will be happy for you. Because I know that you’re doing something you like, that you’ve worked hard, and have obtained happiness in the process. And that’s enough.”

Gavin nods.

“I know.”

“Oh yes, Mommy also wants to use this chance to discuss your birthday plans with you.”

Wardia grins while posing a question.

“What does Little Gav want as a birthday present this year? And what kind of pattern do you want your birthday cake to have?”

“Do you want to invite your classmates over to celebrate with you?”

Wardia prattles on endlessly as she counts the plans she has for his birthday on her fingers. That pair of beautiful eyes are layered with gentleness, but also hide a twinge of guilt.

It’s as though she’s exerting her all to ensure that other aspects are done even better to make up for that guilt.

After Gavin ponders for a while, he shakes his head.

“I’ve already grown up, so there isn’t anything I specially want as a birthday gift.”

“I just want Mommy to always be happy.”

When Wardia hears Gavin’s words, she’s taken aback for half a second. Her eyes stir slightly.

After this, she walks over to hug Gavin gently. Gavin has no idea why his mother is suddenly doing this, but he puts down the blueprint of the aircraft wing, reaching out to return his mother’s hug.

Wardia speaks softly yet resolutely.

“Little Gav, even if you become an adult in the future and become a man with an indomitable spirit, your birthday is still an important thing.”

She pauses.

“Because this day doesn’t just belong to you. It also belongs to everyone who loves you, and the people who have prepared and looked forward to this day for a very long time.

After his mother leaves the room, Gavin looks at the blueprint of the plane which is just beginning to take shape. He repeats what his mother said softly.

“It also belongs to everyone who loves you, and the people who have prepared and looked forward to this day for a very long time...”

Those clear eyes seem to be filled with an even greater determination to win the prize. He picks up the vernier calliper and continues measuring the wingspan.

[ Chapter Four: Heading In Another Direction ]

There’s only one week till Gavin’s birthday.

That huge pile of materials in Gavin’s room has turned into a beautiful white plane with blue wings and smooth lines.

At the competition venue, that white aircraft model ascends, spins around, flies upside down, and lands under Gavin’s control. Everyone is astonished at how perfect it is.

Without any reservations, Gavin wins first place.

The person handing out prizes is a certain officer from an aviation base. He places a small plane-shaped badge into Gavin’s hand.

“You referenced the air freighter Y2251 for the style, didn’t you? I could tell from a glance.”

Gavin nods, and the officer pats him on the shoulder.

“You reconstructed it very close to the original. Being this outstanding at such a young age, I believe your father will definitely be proud of you when he knows about this.”

Gavin lifts his head sharply, staring at the officer.

“Do you know him?”

The officer who handed him the award chuckles.

“I met him at an international meeting in the past. He’s a very outstanding soldier.”

Gavin doesn’t speak further. He lowers his eyes, tightly gripping that badge which symbolises the sky.

At night, Gavin sits at the edge of the window, lifting the small aviator badge to his eyes, staring at it meticulously under the moonlight.

The badge isn’t large, but the wings on it have been engraved vividly. It’s as though in the very next second, it could break free from the heavy fetters of metal, flying freely towards the horizon.

Gavin looks at it for a very long time, then reluctantly shifts his gaze away from the badge.

The summer evening breeze passes by his lapel, bringing with it a cooling and refreshing scent. The trees in the courtyard are very tall, and the sprigs of blossoming plants stretch to the edges of the window, touching his ankle.

This is the first time he has attained honour based on his own strength. Does this mean he now possesses the strength to be acknowledged by others?

He looks at the badge. Finally, his eyes crinkle into a slight smile, unintentionally revealing the wilfulness and pride that a youth should have.

Using his hands to support himself on the edge of the window, Gavin turns around and leaps back into his room. He locates a plain white envelope from his drawer, then picks up a pen. On the address line, he fills in his father’s current location, then stuffs the badge into the envelope solemnly.

After hesitating for a while, he scrunches up the envelope slightly. A few creases immediately appear on it.

Only after he leaps over the wall and heads out to slip that envelope into a mailbox at the corner of the street does Gavin release a soft sigh of relief.

This is a proof of pride, and it’s also an invitation from a youth.

An invitation for the person whom his mother cares about to return to this place, and spend a birthday together which could constitute a “reunion”.

Gavin stands in front of the mailbox, lifting his head to look at the star-studded sky.

Tonight, the Milky Way seems to be brighter than in previous nights. Sagittarius emits a resplendent light, and the bow formed by stars points towards an unknown, faraway place.

[ Chapter Five: Indentations of Growth ]

On the early morning of Gavin’s birthday, Wardia cooks him a bowl of longevity noodles, and there’s even a soft-boiled egg burrowed underneath the noodles.

“Happy birthday, Little Gav.”

“From today onwards, you’ve grown one year older.”

His mother smiles as she says her well wishes to Gavin. After he’s done eating the noodles, she holds out a measuring tape.

“Shall we measure how much taller our Little Gav has grown this year?”

“...okay.”

Gavin is slightly resigned but accustomed to it as he stands next to the pole in the corridor.

Right now, he has already grown much taller. In a serious manner, Wardia uses a pencil to draw a mark near the roof of his head.

“Our Little Gav has grown much taller. Wow, one, two, three... four centimetres.”

His mother keeps the measuring tape and Gavin steps away from the pole. There are numerous deep and light indents on the white body of the pole - traces that witness one boy’s growth each year.

"Looks like I won’t need to measure you next year. Little Gav has already grown taller than Mommy.”

Gavin immediately cuts in, his tone extremely certain.

“I’ll protect Mommy.”

Wardia taps Gavin’s forehead lightly.

“Mommy doesn’t need to be protected by Little Gav. Mommy will protect Little Gav. I’ll celebrate your birthday with you every year until you grow up.”

“What will happen after I grow up?”

His mother grins as she turns around and enters the kitchen. Her gentle voice drifts to Gavin’s ears, and sounds a little hazy.

“After you grow up, you’ll meet someone like Mommy who is willing to celebrate a lifetime of birthdays with you.”

While his mother starts busying herself to prepare Gavin’s birthday feast, Gavin decides to fix the fan in the living room.

With the successful experience of aeromodelling, Gavin picks up the instruction manual and fixes that clanking fan very quickly.

The fixed fan starts rotating to and fro in a leisurely manner, releasing a cooling wind. Gavin closes his eyes to feel the breeze, and his hair is blown up, fluttering messily.

“It’s fixed.” Gavin opens his eyes, turning his head to look at the time.

Noon passed not too long ago, and it’s still very early.

Gavin thinks for a moment, then heads into his room to retrieve the model aircraft. He sits on the steps of the courtyard.

A chunk of paint on the model aircraft cracked a few days ago. Gavin holds a small brush, slowly giving a fresh coat of paint to the tailplane.

The cicadas on the trees are noisy as always, and the brilliant sunlight filters through the leaves, falling on Gavin’s face.

While using the small brush to mend the plane with layers of paint, Gavin occasionally lifts his head towards the nearby door.

Judging by the time, he should still reach today, no matter how late it is.

Birds soar in the sky, and the sun continuously shifts to the west, until it brings twilight with it, turning into a semicircle about to be swallowed up by the horizon.

Gavin sits on the steps for a very long time, from noon till late afternoon, and until the beautiful lines on the model aircraft have been mended, laying beside him quietly.

Yet, that door doesn’t get pushed open.

A few leaves are blown by the wind, and they fall on the wings of the model aircraft. Gavin reaches out to pick the leaves up.

He grips the leaves in his palm, lowering his eyes and thinking about something unknown to anyone else.

With a sudden creak, the sound of a door opening drifts from afar, and footsteps land on Gavin’s ears.

Gavin instantly straightens up, but he quickly faces away.

The tender dusk envelops him, illuminating the slightly upturned corners of his lips.

[ Chapter Six: A Heart of Well Wishes ]

The people who pushed the door open are his maternal grandfather and grandmother.

Carrying a birthday cake, they brim with smiles as they walk towards Gavin.

His grandfather grabs Gavin into a hug.

“We wish our Little Gav a happy birthday.”

His grandmother lifts the cake, waving it at Gavin.

“Grandpa and Grandma specially bought a cake to see you, and to celebrate our Little Gav’s birthday.”

“Thanks, Grandpa and Grandma.”

Gavin receives the cake from his grandmother and heads towards the living room with them. Before walking up the steps, Gavin casts another glance at the door.

The door remains quietly caged in twilight, waiting alongside Gavin.

But even until the evening grows dark, it is never pushed open again.

Wardia notices Gavin’s abnormal silence. When she follows his gaze and looks at the door outside, she realises something.

However, Wardia doesn’t say anything. She simply pauses, then is full of smiles as she opens the cake box.

“Here’s wishing our birthday boy a happy 14th birthday!” His grandparents grin while singing the birthday song.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...”

After singing the birthday song, his mother looks at Gavin, speaking gently.

“Go on and make a wish, Little Gav.”

Gavin stares at the cake and remains silent for a while. Then, he speaks quietly in his heart.

It’s fine if that person doesn't return. It’s fine if he isn’t acknowledged. Anyway, he has celebrated his birthday today, and has grown one year older.

He can fix a fan for his mother, and can use his strength to protect this home.

So-

It’s fine.

After dinner, the family sits in the courtyard to enjoy the cool air.

Hearing from his mother that Gavin won the first place in the aeromodelling competition, his grandparents are extremely surprised.

“Little Gav is truly incredible. Isn’t it really difficult to build models? What reward would you like? Grandpa and Grandma will give it to you.”

“There isn’t anything I want as a reward.”

However, his grandfather is very stubborn.

“You’re still so young. How can there be nothing that you want? Just suggest something, and treat it as a gift from your Grandpa and Grandma.”

At this appropriate time, Wardia cuts in. “This is a well wish from your elders, so just accept it.”

Gavin lowers his eyes and thinks for a moment. Then, he lifts his head and responds softly.

“In that case, I want our family to be like this every year in the future.”

He pauses, his eyes carrying within them slight warmth and ease.

“We’ll eat cake together, talk together, and sing the birthday song together.”

"That’s such an easy feat. Every year in the future, Grandpa and Grandma will bring a cake and celebrate Little Gav’s birthday with your Mommy.”

“It’s a deal.”

The evening breeze blows past gently, blowing up stray hairs in front of Gavin’s forehead, revealing a pair of clear amber eyes. He turns back to the courtyard and watches as his grandparents and mother engage in small talk and laughing to their heart’s content.

This is a complete family which has been mended with love, and it has much warmth and many things to look forward to.

It encases the youth’s heart, enabling him to not feel lonely at this moment.

The Milky Way is as magnificent as always. Beneath the brilliant star-studded sky, the tree which has been growing in the courtyard for a very long time stands quietly, as though it would remain this way every year.

Cheri’s Reflections:

Imagine if the letter wasn’t sent because Gavin forgot to put stamps LOL T^T

Not-so-fun fact: Wardia died when Gavin was 15, so this is the last birthday they spent together...

And MC not reading his letter back in Loveland High and leaving him waiting for hours hurts even more now because it probably reminded him of how he waited for his father to no avail

✈️ Spreading Wings Date: here

✈️ Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #:)#:')

98 notes · View notes

g-on-ef · 3 years

Note

Prompt; Blitzø not being used to being complimented and being treated respectfully and realizing just how much Striker cares about him

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anonymous 2: This doesn’t have to be a prompt but just imagine Striker realizing how little respect and praise Blitz gets, that every time he compliments him Blitz instinctively doubts it and actually has to think about it before realizing it’s genuine, which makes Striker heartbroken and absolutely pissed

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: so I decided to combine both of these since they are basically the same ^^ but I hope you guys like what comes out ^^

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Striker doesn't get angry easily, being an assassin had trained him to control his emotions so that they aren't used against him; he's always meditate, reflected on his mistakes so that they won't happen again, and always found therapeutical ways to release his stress so that his emotions never got the best of him.

No, in the past Striker knew how to stay calm and never show anger. Being with Blitz however has changed that.

Seeing Blitz not believe him whenever he compliments him, always giving him a minute or two to decide whether or not Striker means what he's saying always feels like a dagger to his heart.

Whenever they are out on the job Striker ask him what's the plan and he watches with anger and sadness how Blitz stumble over his words and tries to lead them but than clams up and gives Striker the lead.

What brakes his heart even more {and made him want to punch Goiesha or kill him one or the other}

Is whenever he asks Blitz to do something and Blitz hesitates before saying no and than looks afraid that he even had the nerve to say no, Striker would always shrug it off and say okay before leaving.

He'll never forget the first time Blitz said no and Striker shrugged it off.

Blitz looked so shocked and Striker looked at him like he turned into a human.

"What?"

"That's-that's it?"

"That's it what?"

"You're just gonna let it go?"

"Let it go?"

"You're not gonna," he looked at Striker who had a look of patience in his face waiting for Blitz to find his words and tell him what he was feeling.

It shocked Blitz since he's not use to seeing someone wait for him to speak, usually they would interrupt him or toss his feeling aside and talk down on him but here was Striker looking at him, waiting for him to form his thoughts and voice them out loud.

"You're not gonna keep asking till I say yes? Or,"

"Or what?" Striker asked trying to keep the anger outta of his voice.

"Or call me a punk ass bitch for it?"

The two imps stare at one another, one in fear the other in an indifferent stare.

Striker could feel his blood boiling at the thought of Blitz and the mistreatment he faced. With the way he was raised Striker was beginning to wonder if he even had someone who genuinely cared for him.

"Blitz you said no, if you don't want to come with me to the Harvest Moon Festival that's fine your allow to say no if you don't feel comfortable with doing something okay?" He said with patience and reassurance. He didn't want to force Blitz to do something he didn't want to and wanted to show him he genuinely meant it when he said he respected his choice.

Blitz started at him before nodding his head. Blitz also looked like he wanted to say something else.

"Something wrong?"

"Umm...well..."

He mumbles something under his breath.

"What was that amor?"

Hearing the endearment that always made his heart race Blitz spoke again,

"Instead of going to the hillbilly festival would you be willing to stay home with me and Loona and you know...just stay here and spend time as a...family,"

He saw Blitz close his eyes and curl in himself as if waiting for Striker to say no or be mad at the thought of Blitz asking for something.

Striker reminded himself of all his meditation techniques and told himself he was gonna have to read a ton of books to calm the rage that was storming inside him.

"Sure Blitz, I don't mind spending time with you and Loona,"

He smiled and looked relieved before going back to his pompous self

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Strikers biggest challenge was reminding Blitz what an amazing IMP he was.

Seriously he was always impressed with Blitz fighting skills as well as him being able to shot a target from a distance.

And it sucked that Blitz always doubted himself and his skills.

Whenever the two spar or did target practice Striker always praised him and reminded him what a good job he was doing.

It hurt him that his gem of a murderer didn't see what a bad ass he was and Striker had no problem reminding him.

"Nice shooting B,"

Blitz looked at Striker. He was starting to get use to Striker and his compliments. His praises on the other hand...where another thing.

"Umm...thanks..."

Striker just walk over to him he watched as Blitz lifted his gun and shot a little missing the target by a smidge.

"Fuck!"

He looked toward striker who just smiled at him.

He tried again and got the target.

"Not bad,"

"You can say I sucked Striker,"

"Why would I do that, you missed realized your mistake and than corrected it. I think that's admirable for leader. Seeing his mistake and correcting it so it doesn't happen again,"

"You think I'm a good leader?"

"One of the bests."

The two looked at another before Blitz looked away

"This is getting to mushy for me,"

Striker chuckled and watched as Blitz continue his shooting practice and if Blitz had a blush and was looking to impress Striker some more well that was no one's business but his own.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"You look beautiful doll,"

Blitz jumped as he turned to look at Striker who was leaning against the door frame.

"Umm...what?"

Striker chuckled and said,

"You look beautiful doll,"

Blitz looked at him before he turned to face the mirror he was wearing a cow printed skirt with a white sleeveless crop top and a cute pink cowgirl hat resting on his head.

He didn't know what he was thinking when he bought this outfit other than thinking he'd look good in it.

When he saw himself he thought he looked ridiculous Striker on the other hand thought he looked beautiful.

"I don't know Strikes I feel like a cow just barf all over me," he said trying to shrug off the compliment.

Striker smiled gently, walking over to his partner he wrapped his hands around him and place a soft kiss on his scared face. Something Blitz came to realize that Striker loved doing kissing every scar on his body.

"Well if a cow did puke on you he definitely made you gorgeous,"

Blitz blushed as he elbowed Strikers chest making the cowboy back off a little.

"Your compliments could use a little work,"

He felt Striker take him by his shoulders before turning him around.

"Alright how's this, you look fucking hot and it's taking everything not to bend you over and fuck you,"

Blitz blushed before Striker place a soft kiss on his lips.

The albino IMP pulled back and stroke Blitz's cheek.

"Your beautiful Blitz, even if others don't see it i do and I love everything about you."

Blitz nodded his head before he took Strikers hand and led him to the bed where Blitz put his cowgirl skills to the test.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Blitz wasn't use to compliments nor was he use to someone respecting his wishes.

Whenever Striker complimented him he always waited for the back hand comments or for Striker to bring him down after he got a reaction out of him.

Not only that but Blitz always assumed that Striker complimented him because he wanted something in return. But no, he never ask for more than what Blitz was willing to give and was always respectful of Blitz and his boundaries.

He couldn't believe someone like Striker existed someone who wasn't afraid of being affection towards Blitz but also respected his boundaries when he said no.

Still three years being together made Blitz see that what he and Striker had was genuine, that whenever Striker called him all those cute pet names, told him what an amazing leader he was, and always mentioned what a beautiful and deadly assassin he was he meant it.

There was no ultarnattive motive, no backhand comment, no making him at the butt of the joke. No Striker meant every word of and it just made Blitz fall more in love with him.

"Hey beautiful,"

Blitz jumped a little as he watched Striker approach him.

That's another thing he had to get use to Striker calling him beautiful every time he saw him.

"Hey you," okay now he sounded like Loona whenever she tries talking to Vortex.

Striker chuckled.

"What are you doing cooped up in your office?"

"Nothing just umm...nothing,"

Striker hummed before grabbing Blitz by the hand and pulling him off the chair.

"Well hermoso, why don't you and I go grab a bite to eat and spend this hellish day together?"

Blitz smiled as he squeezed Strikers hand,

"Sure why not," the cowboy smiled before he lean forward and place a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Let's go than,"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: hope you guys like this one ^^ it's definitely one of my faves ^^ also reminder I'm still taking Striker x Blitz prompts so if y'all have any send them my way ^^

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

#blitzo helluva boss #blitzo x striker #striker x blitzo #striker helluva boss #helluva blitzo #helluva boss blitz #answers asked #anon #anonymous

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svnflowervol666 · 3 years

Text

Ma Petite Chérie: Christmas Now (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Their first Christmas as a family of four. Underwhelming gifts, naughty kitchen counter shenanigans, being suspicious of Santa Claus, baby kissies, oat milk.

Author’s Note: Baby bub is here! I’ve been so excited to finally be able to write about them, and I’m even more excited that you all get to read about them! This is the second part of my Christmas bits for this year. Unlike the last one, this one is obnoxiously adorable and no where near as upsetting (I really hurt my own feelings with that one). Reblogs, likes, tags, and feedback of any kind is always greatly appreciated! If you don’t see me before the year is up, I want to wish you a Happy New Year! Enjoy, take care, and tpwk.

“Two.”

“No. One.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“Four.”

“Now that’s just bein’ greedy,” Harry spoke in a wounded tone with his brows furrowed together as if he were genuinely offended.

“But if Santa’s coming tonight and bringing more presents, why can’t I open these ones right now?”

Tallulah was on her knees in front of the sofa, fingers laced together with her chin resting on top of them. She was quite literally begging her father, who sat above her with one leg crossed over the other and an arm slung around his wife, to allow her to open the gifts that were prematurely nestled underneath the festive fir tree in their living room. Well, they weren’t married yet, but Harry couldn’t help that he preferred how the word felt rolling off of his tongue than “fiance.”

“Because they’re Christmas presents,” he stressed.

“Makes no sense t’ open them the day before.”

His freshly six-year-old daughter clearly didn’t like that answer - the pouty jut on her lip and subsequent huff told Harry all he needed to know.

“I already told ya, sweet pea. You can open one tonight. That’s it. The rest are for tomorrow.”

“Fiiiiiine,” the small girl said, although it was implied in her tone that it very much was not.

Tallulah hobbled over to the tree whilst still on her knees, and began riffling through the small litter of perfectly wrapped boxes to inspect which one would elicit the most satisfaction on her end. She seemed keen on a rather large one, decorated with tartan print and a red gift tag that read, “To: Lulah, From: Daddy & Mummy.” What she hadn’t realized, though, was that Harry had already made the selection for her.

“Not tha’ one,” Harry reprimanded over the steaming mug of coffee in the hand that wasn’t rubbing circles on Y/N’s shoulder.

He typically strayed away from caffeine this late in the evening, but he knew he was in for a long night of waiting up until Tallulah was fast asleep so he could take on the role of Santa and deliver all of the gifts he had promised her for being good enough to make an appearance on the Nice List. Knowing how much shit he had packed in his office that stayed locked this time of year, he really wasn’t sure how he was going to do it successfully.

Another exasperated sigh left his eldest child’s lips, to which she replied, “But this one’s the biggest.”

“But it’s not the one we want yeh t’ open, Lulah. ‘S the one with polar bears on it,” Harry stated, though not with full confidence.

“It is the one with polar bears on it, right?” he whispered to Y/N.

This earned a laugh from Y/N, who muttered a quiet, “Yes,” in return. She laid her head in the crook of Harry’s neck, basking in the warmth that radiated from his body. He smelled like cinnamon and the nutmeg-flavored coffee beans he’d ground up just a few minutes before, and maybe a hint like baby barf.

Tallulah scavenged the space under the tree like a predator hunting its prey - all on the lookout for the present fitting the description Harry had given her. Harry and Y/N found themselves thoroughly entertained by watching her overturn almost every gift, and shared a similar giggle when she narrowed in on the box in question before letting out a victorious, “Aha!” into the room only lit by a firelog in the chimney.

“Grab the one for Olive too, please. Don’t want her feelin’ left out,” Harry called out to Talulah.

“Okay, daddy!”

Her small arms stretched to the limit, trying to grab both packages without toppling over onto the others. Tallulah noted that they both felt the exact same underneath the wrapping paper, only her baby sister’s was much smaller than the one addressed to her.

“They feel like clothes,” Tallulah stated matter-of-factly as she took back her place on the floor with both presents in hand.

Harry sighed, leaning down to rest his mug near his feet against the sofa.

“Good grief. Just open it, will yeh?”

She needed no further instruction. Her fingers dug into the paper, piercing it with her nails and ruining the pastel blue parchment that was covered in dozens of cartoon polar bears partaking in various yoga poses. When Tallulah was able to tear the gift away from its wrapping, her hands grasped something soft.

“It’s....pajamas.”

Her tone was flat and unamused. Harry sensed her disappointment, though in his heart he certainly felt like he’d done a great job concocting his plan to have her open this particular gift on Christmas Eve.

“Yeah, but they’re Christmas pajamas. Don’t yeh want t’ look nice when Santa comes to visit tonight?”

This seemed to...disturb Tallulah. That was really the only way to describe how she looked at her dad - with her eyebrows scrunched up and her normally-plush lips pressed together in a thin line.

“...He’s gonna come in my room when I’m sleeping?”

Y/N hadn’t meant to, but a loud cackle erupted from her chest, which jostled the four-month-old baby girl that had the beginnings of sleepiness settling into her body. In contrast to the laugh from Y/N, Olive let out the tiniest of shrills, obviously upset that her mother had interupted the peacefulness she’d felt whilst being curled up against her chest.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, bubby,” Y/N cooed quitely, quickly moving to pat her daughter’s bum and comfort her.

“Mummy didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Y/N pressed a quick kiss to the sparse tufts of hair atop Olive’s head before returning her attention back to Tallulah.

“Lulah, I promise you that Santa will not come in your room while you’re sleeping. What your dad means,” she snuck a glance in Harry’s direction in which he smirked back at her, “Is that you want to look nice on Christmas morning, don’t you? You know Nana’s gonna take a thousand pictures of you and Olive tomorrow, so now you don’t have to change when she gets here, yeah?”

Tallulah nodded, though it didn’t do much to lift her spirits. She fumbled the cream-colored thermal set adorned with gold stars between her fingers, the motion she was always somehow doing whether it be to her dad’s t-shirt while she laid next to him during a movie, Y/N’s lotus pendant when she was smaller and could fit on her chest, or otherwise.

“Plus,” Y/N added, a hint of irony in her voice, “I’d imagine the presents Santa’s going to bring you are much less boring than this.”

They shared a knowing smile, Tallulah’s cheeks growing rosey and her eyes twinkling at the mention of the magical, bearded man.

“I’m offended,” Harry scoffed.

“Really thought those pajamas were proper cute.”

“They are cute, daddy!” Tallulah chimed in, “I like them a lot. Thank you.”

It appeared that the young girl had realized her moping about not receiving the nail polish kit she’d asked for didn’t do her any good. And whether Harry was joking about being upset or not, she’d never want to hurt her dad’s feelings. He’d raised her too kindly to do otherwise.

“You’re welcome, bug,” Harry smiled at her.

“Let’s help Olive open hers, yeah?”

“I bet it’s pajamas,” Tallulah mumbled under her breath.

That earned her a light tug on one of her two braided plaits on her head from Harry. The two of them chuckled at each other, their faces almost looking like identical portraits of each other.

“Humor me for a second then, Lulah. ‘S your sister’s first Christmas.”

Tallulah scoots over on the floor to stand on her knees, this time by Y/N’s legs as she turned Olive around to sit up straight in her lap. Olive, who was once determined to fall asleep right there on the couch beside her mum and dad, was now awake and had taken an interest in the crinkling sound of the wrapping paper on the gift her big sister placed on top of her chunky thighs.

“Here, Livvy,” Tallulah cooed, “You tear it like this.”

She tried to show Olive how to tear away the present by ripping it halfway open, but her effort proved to be unsuccessful the second Olive managed to get her fingers around a scrap of paper and immediately placed it in her mouth. It appeared that Olive was much more interested in the gift wrap than she was her early Christmas present.

“Well, there goes that,” Harry said as he fetched the then soggy parchment from his infant daughter’s lips, making somewhat of a disgusted face as he wiped the excess drool on the leg of his pants.

Tallulah takes the honor of opening Olive’s present for her, and is unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes when her eyes meet a set of thermal pajamas like the ones she’d just received herself, only Olive’s were green with tiny, silver stars. She’d parted her lips to make an undoubtedly flippant comment, but Harry cut her off before she even had the chance to mutter the first syllable.

“Don’t do it, stink head,” Harry quipped, reaching for the discarded paper that was scattered on the rug beneath him so he could put it in the bin later.

“How about you go put on your lovely new pajamas so we can get everything set up f’ Santa to come, alright?”

“Okayyyyyy,” the small girl grumbled before snatching the thermal set from the floor and darting off to her room.

“That didn’t really go the way I hoped,” Harry mumbled as he reached over to take Olive from Y/N.

“It’s Christmas, baby,” Y/N reminded him.

“Kids want toys, not pajamas.”

“Yeah but,” Harry focused his attention at worming the tight-fitting pajamas up his baby girl’s abnormally chubby legs.

“’S what mum used t’ do for us when we were little. Always got pajamas on Christmas Eve. Figured it’d be nice t’ do it for the girls, too.”

“It is sweet, Harry. Just wouldn’t expect a six-year-old to be that enthused about it,” Y/N snickered.

Harry hummed in agreement, his tongue poked out as he fed Olive’s arm into the tight sleeve of her top, struggling a bit to get her balled up fist through the other side.

“Ahh, there we go. Thank god ya only have t’ wear these tomorrow, Chunk. They’ll be too snug by next week.”

“Leave my fat baby alone,” Y/N scolded.

“There’s nothing wrong with being well fed,” she added, leaning over to lightly pinch on her daughter’s round tummy in an attempt to get her to smile at her.

A gummy grin took over Olive’s features at the sight of her mother, a true mummy’s girl at heart. She was much like Tallulah in many ways, but so different at the same time. Olive was still nearly bald, whereas Tallulah’s hair grew like a sprout when she was Olive’s age. Tallulah had always been teeny tiny, no doubt due to her premature birth, and Olive clearly made up in weight for what Tallulah lacked when she was a baby. They both loved cuddles with Harry and listening to the sound of his voice as they fell asleep, but it always puzzled him when Olive didn’t respond to some of his antics in the way that Tallulah had.

“‘M not bein’ mean. I’d jump on the chance to suck on your tits all day if I could, too.”

“Har-” Y/N began to reprimand him about how she can’t say that because there are little ears in the room, but was stopped short.

“I’m back! Can we set out the cookies now?”

Tallulah breathed heavily as if she just sprinted a marathon into the living room.

“Sure can,” Harry responded.

“Come tell Livvy good night first, though. Mummy’s gotta feed her and put her t’ bed.”

She smiled at the mention of her little sister, whom she was always keeping at an arm’s reach. If Tallulah was awake, she was in the same room as Olive. It made Harry’s heart ache in the best way to watch the two of them interact with each other. The feeling he felt when he first saw Olive in Tallulah’s arms at the hospital never subsided. He was absolutely besotted for his girls.

“Bonne nuit, ma petite soeur,” Tallulah whispered to Olive, reaching down to hug her sister and kiss the crown of her head, which she happily accepted in the form of weaving her pudgy fingers into Tallulah’s braids and pulling them rather harshly.

Before he handed her off to Y/N to be fed and put down for the night, he gave Olive a kiss of his own.

“Bonne nuit, ma petite chérie.”

“‘How do you know Santa likes oat milk? Did he tell you that? Luna at school told me he likes chocolate almond milk.’ What kinda shit is that?!” Harry exclaimed with a mouth full of sugar cookie and in the quietest voice he could muster.

He’d just spent the last hour with Y/N, silently digging Tallulah’s gifts from Santa out of his office and placing them underneath the tree. Thankfully, he hadn’t tripped over his own feet and woken her up or else he would have cried right there on the spot.

All Y/N could do was giggle back at him from where she sat on top of the counter, bare legs swinging as she had a mouthful of the very same oat milk in question swishing in her mouth.

“She’s asking too many questions n’ I don’t like it one bit.”

“Think she’s just growing up, babe. The magic doesn’t last forever. She’s about at that age. Probably only have one or two more Christmases before she figures it out.”

Harry stared at the remaining half of the frosted cookie Tallulah left for Santa in his palm, eyes quiet and sullen.

“Don’t like that one bit, either,” he muttered.

“I know you don’t, bubby,” Y/N cooed, pulling Harry into her so he stood between her parted legs on the countertop.

“But you’ve still got Olive.”

He seemed to perk up at that, looking up at her through thick lashes with a smirk.

“Just Olive? We stoppin’ there?”

“I mean,” Y/N pursed her lips.

“Wouldn’t mind trying for a boy.”

Harry placed his hands on either side of her thighs, stroking her skin with his thumbs.

“Might not happen on the first go, though,” he tisked.

“Could take havin’ a few more for that t’ happen. Yeh alright with that?”

“As long as you’re not tired of me by then, then sure,” Y/N jested.

“’M never gonna be tired of you.”

He leaned in close to her, touching his forehead to hers. He was a split second away from kissing her, but then Y/N spoke up again.

“Harry,” she called out.

“Hmm,” Harry’s voice oozed with desire and darkness beginning to turn his eyes a deep shade of juniper.

“Can I please have a bite of your cookie?”

He softly bumped his forehead against hers as they both broke out into a fit of chuckles.

“Allumeuse,” Harry uttered, raising the sickeningly sweet cookie to her lips.

She chewed the baked good tantilizingly slow, making a scene of rolling her eyes back and moaning as if the taste was euphoric.

“Tu aimes ça,” she snided.

“Je fais.”

The two sat in silence after that, finishing up what was left of the small plate of sweets Tallulah had left by the chimney. It wasn’t often that the house was this quiet. Normally, there was a crying Olive to attend to or a needy Tallulah begging for one of them to get more paper out of Harry’s office printer so she could draw pictures of the plants in their garden out back. It would have been eerie, had the multi-colored lights from their Christmas tree not illuminated the majority of their open living space. The twinkling bulbs brought a sense of peacefulness about them. Maybe it was the season, or maybe it was because they’d been feeling so grateful for their small family as of late.

“Honey,” Harry broke the silence.

“What?” she looked up from where she’d been fussing with the hem of her shorts decorated with tiny snowflakes.

“Yeh got a little,” he gestured to her mouth before bringing his thumb to the corner of Y/N’s mouth.

Harry swiped a rogue dollop of blue frosting that rested there and pressed it onto her tongue. She wrapped her lips around his digit, sucking lightly to remove the sticky icing from his skin. Her eyes met his, not once straying as he applied just the slightest bit more of pressure with his thumb. He noted the way her breathing slowed and how she gently shuddered when he tightened the grip of her jaw with the rest of his fingers.

“So pretty,” he purred, marveling at the sight in front of him.

God, how Harry wished it weren’t just his finger resting on the soft, welcoming warmth of her tongue.

Y/N slid off his thumb with a calculated pop of her lips, licking them to ensure she’d rid herself completely of any stray crumbs.

“Kissy?” she posed, smirking.

��I’d be pretty rotten if I said no,” Harry replied before pressing his mouth against hers.

She wrapped her arms around him, forcing him to stand flush against the counter and even closer to her body. He teased her with this tongue, gliding it along the plush skin of the inside of her lip. Y/N welcomed him and parted her lips enough for Harry to get through. Both of them taste the saccharine remnants of the cookies they’d shared, and soon all that’s heard in the house are the suckling noises and heavy pants coming from Harry and Y/N. It’s not loud enough to be a disturbance, but it’s just enough to have them both yearning for more.

“Talk t’ me, lapine,” Harry broke away from her for long enough to mumble one sentence, still pressed against her lips.

“Tell me what yeh want.”

“Want you,” Y/N said in a shaky exhale, chasing Harry’s mouth to reconnect with her own.

“Yeah?” he taunted.

“Want me right here in the kitchen?”

“Ideally, no. But I wouldn’t stop you.”

She parted her legs even wider, attempting to rut against the thick fabric of Harry’s fleece sweatpants. Her center met something stiff and Harry pulled her even closer by the flesh of both bum cheeks, massaging them with his massive palms in a manner that he knew drove her mad.

“That’d be pretty naughty of us, wouldn’t it? Not sure if Santa would approve of that one.”

Before she’s given a chance to respond, Harry snuck his hand between their thighs and began softly petting Y/N over her shorts. Her head fell back in pleasure, temporarily detaching her lips from Harry’s. She knows she can’t make a single sound or else she’ll wake up the entire house so she just sits there with her brows furrowed, silently gasping and letting these sweet, broken moans spill from her throat that spur Harry on even further.

“Can feel you even through your fuckin’ shorts, Y/N,” he grunted, slowing grinding against his own palm that was the only thing separating him from her heat.

This time, it’s Y/N that reached between them, feeling for the stifness that lies between his legs. She wraps her fingers around him through his sweatpants, leisurely tugging at his cock. Harry’s all but forced to begin sucking on the sensitive skin of her neck to keep himself from crying out at the contact, working at blossoming deep lilac and mulberry colored bruises there.

“Bet you could cum just like this, couldn’t you?” he muffles into her collarbone.

Y/N hummed, crossing her legs around Harry’s back as he began to focus his attention to rubbing her clit over the material of her shorts.

“Bet you could too,” she whined.

“’S that what you want, hm? Want me t’ make you cum without even touchin’ you right?”

“‘M not gonna have a choice if you don’t do something else pretty soon.”

She sped up the work she’s doing near Harry’s crotch, paying mind to what she can make of his tip between his boxers. With her thumb, she rubbed expert circles around him, massaging him in the way that he’s doing to her. Both of them could feel it, the slow build up of pressure deep in their abdomen - a coil winding tighter and tight with the threat of snapping.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N.”

He was biting her neck now, completely consumed by the feeling of both the damp patch seeping through Y/N’s shorts and onto his fingers and the precum dripping onto her more delicate ones through his sweatpants.

In an attempt to not embarass himself like a horny teenager, Harry withdrew his hand from in between her thighs and places it around her bum all in the same breath. Y/N sighed defeatedly at the loss of friction against the place she needed it most, dropping her head into Harry’s shoulder and whining rather noisily. Before she even has the chance to curse him for stopping, he scooped her off the counter with all of his strength and began walking both of them to their bedroom so he could fuck her properly.

Their lips detach when Harry drops her onto the bed and a woosh of air leaves the down comforter, causing the hem of Y/N’s top to fly up and expose her tummy. She still wore the deep, almost-metallic stretch marks she’d acquired when she was pregnant with Olive, but it wasn’t with shame. Her and Harry had a talk not that long ago about how much he loved them because it reminded him of how much he cherished watching his baby girl grow before she made her grand, earthside appearance. She’d not mentioned the slightest bit of disdain for them after that.

Just as Harry tugged his jumper over his head and threw it off somewhere that he’d worry about in the morning, his eyes caught the digital clock that rested on the wooden night stand on his side of the bed.

“’S past midnight,” he said with a lopsided grin, climbing on top of the girl he vowed to spend his last dying breath beside.

“Yeah?” Y/N asked, for the life of her unable to understand why that was relevant when just minutes ago, he was rutting into her hands and aching for release.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled against her lips.

He pulled up once more to add, “Happy Christmas.”

She had half the mind to smack him, but all she did was shake her head and smile.

“Happy Christmas, Harry. Will you please fuck me now?”

“Think I can manage that.”

It was the first of many Christmas presents for Y/N.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #dad!harry #dad!Harry styles #dad!harry styles x reader #dad!harry x reader #harry styles smut

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imagineyourworld · 3 years

Text

Rockstar AU

Hunter x Genderneutral!Reader (Cinderella Story) Wrecker x Genderneutral!Reader (Love at First Sight) Tech x Genderneutral!Reader (Enemies to Lovers) Crosshair x Genderneutral!Reader (Second Chance Romance) Echo x Genderneutral!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Warnings: Slight bit of language, mean fans in the last one

Hunter

Hunter would for sure be the lead singer

He’d be the one most people simp for, including your friends

The same friends who dragged you to the concert, and the same friends who abandoned you the next day because they just had to spend the afternoon at the bands known hang out spot to try to meet one of them

Little did they know that Hunter wasn’t there that afternoon, in fact he had the same plans as you, to spend the day aimlessly wandering the city streets, a new city for you, one you’re just visiting for a few days, and a new home for him, one he still needs to familiarize himself with

You exist a small café, where you had just gotten yourself a drink, when you first met. In real movie meet cute style you walked right into him and spilled your drink all over his shirt, and the light grey material did little to hide the stains

“I am so, so sorry”, you said over and over again as you began to search for bag for a tissue to wipe off the worst of it. To your surprise he just chuckled. It was a low and raspy sound, one that sounded somewhat familiar. Only when you stopped your search and actually looked at him did you realize why you knew that chuckle, it was the one your friends had shown you over and over again in a ton of different videos. Just your luck, that you didn’t just spill your drink on anyone, it had to be Hunter from The Bad Batch.

“I gotta say, this is a new way of meeting fans.” You raised your eyebrow at his words. “Who said I was a fan?” There ist was again, that chuckle. Even though you told yourself that it didn’t affect you, you were only human and couldn’t deny that Hunter was incredibly attractive. “The look in your eyes. It’s alright, I get it all the time.” You scoffed. Who did he think he was? He was a singer, not some god. Based on the expression now overshadowing his face that wasn’t the reaction he had been hoping for.

You apologized once more, even offered to buy him a new shirt, before you made your goodbye and tried to walk past him. Hunter’s hand on your wrist stopped you. To be honest, you were a second away from janking your wrist from his grasp and asking him who he thought he was, a question that wouldn’t stop running around in your head. “Before you go, how about you buy me a coffee? You do kinda owe me for ruining my shirt”, he said. Though his words were arrogant, it was his kind, almost joking, tone and the hopeful expression in his eyes that made a small smile appear on your face. “I don’t know, what’s in it for me?”, you asked, trying to match his tone. Hunter just shrugged. “At the very least an interesting conversation.”

Of course it wasn’t the conversation that made you agree, not at first at least. But it did turn out to be good. So good that it made you forget who you were actually talking to, and good enough that by the end you even gave Hunter your number.

When he texted just half an hour after you parted ways, asking you whether you wanted to have dinner the next day, you realized that you would have a lot of explaining to do with your friends.

Wrecker

I don’t know why, but I feel like Wrecker might be the guitarist.

Other than Hunter I don’t think Wrecker would have the biggest fan base, but his fans would be the most dedicated and loyal

Wrecker would be most likely to date a fan. While he might not be looking for a romantic partner amongst the fans, he does try a bit of flirting here and there if someone catches his eye.

That’s actually how the two of you met. You had been saving to buy tickets for the concert and the following meet and greet and ever since Wrecker saw you in line his eyes had been glued to you. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know”, Tech told his brother as he followed his stare. Wrecker nudged him with his shoulder, which made Tech stumble a bit due to his strength. That’s when he heard it, the one sound that was better than music in his ears. “That’s not very nice”, you told him with a sly grin.

Honestly, you had no idea where you were getting your sudden confidence from. You were standing right in front of The Bad Batch and yet here you were, making a joke.

Embarrassment coursed through Wrecker’s veins, making him rub the back of his head nervously. “I know. It’s... a bad habit”, he finally admitted. It was your laugh that told him you weren’t really mad or scolding him at all, and without thought he joined in. Your laugh, if possible, sounded even more beautiful than your voice.

“What’s your name?”, he asked. You told him, a small blush making its way to your cheeks. Of course you had expected the band to be friendly, but never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine Wrecker being this kind. And if you weren’t mistaken he was even flirting with you. But that couldn’t be, right? He must have thousands who flirt with him every day, why would he be interested in you of all people? “(Y/N)”, you told him. After his next action there was no doubt left in your mind that he actually was flirting. “(Y/N), Wrecker repeated as he lifted your hand to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles. You didn’t know what to focus on. His soft lips on your skin, the way your hand felt and looked so much smaller in his big hand, or the way he said your name.

Leave it to Tech to interrupt your little moment. “You need to move it along, there are others waiting”, he informed his brother. Of course he was right, of course you shouldn’t expect Wrecker to continue to talk to you when there were others waiting for his attention. But little did you know that letting you go was something Wrecker wouldn’t dream off. “This thing ends in half an hour. If you want to, you don’t have to but if you want to, you can wait for me in the lobby of the Park Hotel in about an hour and we’ll continue this conversation, (Y/N).”

Part of you knew that there was the possibility that he was only looking for a one night stand, but the bigger part told you that Wrecker was genuinely interested in your company. It was that part that made you agree. And you were so glad you did, because the rest of the night spend with Wrecker couldn’t have been better. Apparently he felt the same, because just before you left he slipped a small note with his number in your pocket.

Tech

The usual instrument for a band might be drums, but I cannot imagine Tech playing the drums. A keyboard however? That’s so Tech.

I can’t see Tech dating a fan, but a fellow musician would be a dream come true! There is just one slight issue...

“I can’t stand that guy! He never stops talking, every time he opens his mouth I just wanna punch his stupid glasses right into his eyes”, you grunted. Tech had been about to round the corner, in his hands he had the setlist you had requested for your band, which was opening for The Bad Batch. Now, after hearing those words and realizing that the friendship the two of you had been building had all been fake, that Tech had been right in trying to shove his developing feelings down, he just threw the pieces of paper in front of your feet. “There”, he grumbled before turning around and leaving again. You shot your friend, who you had been talking to, a confused look.

Your band opened for The Bad Batch for a couple more shows before you parted ways. They went back to recording, while you had your first solo tour, which went incredibly well, since only a year later you reunited at a music festival where both bands were asked to play.

“God, Wrecker, did you grow?”, you laughed while Wrecker enveloped you in a hug and lifted you a few feet into the air. “I think I’m a bit too old to continue growing, but who knows”, he replied with a grin. Tech tried his best not to roll his eyes. How could his brothers still be friendly with you? Wasn’t it obvious to them how much you hated him? Wasn’t blood thicker than water? You moved away from Wrecker to greet Tech next. Your previously joyous smile growing nervous, but it still ignited something Tech wanted to put out. “Hey, long time no see”, you started. You reached out to touch his shoulder, but before you could Tech took a step backwards, knocking over Hunter’s water bottle. Tech saw this as his way of escape and quickly offered to get a new one, though Hunter, who knew what he was up to, shook his head. “Take (Y/N) with you, they know the location better and can show you around.” Tech wanted to disagree, he really did, but he knew there was no use in arguing with Hunter shortly before the concert.

You did show Tech around, at least a little bit. You even tried to chat as best as you could, but his answers were reduced to “yes” and “no”, if he even gave you an answer that is. Finally you reached a small supply closet in which you knew most of the snacks and drinks were kept. “They have your favourite chocolate, I checked the second I heard you guys were showing up”, you told Tech with a smile, hoping at least your shared love for chocolate would break the ice. It didn’t. What did break a second later, almost as soon as Tech followed you into the small room, was the door. With a loud bang it closed behind Tech, and no matter how hard the two of you pushed or pulled, it wouldn’t budge.

“What now?”, you asked, chewing on a piece of said chocolate. Tech was just shoving his phone back in his pocket. “I texted the others, one of them should come around with maintenance in a few minutes.” A moment of silence followed. “Hey, Tech”, you started softly, nervously. “Why do you hate me?” Finally Tech tore his eyes away from the water in his hands and looked at you, really looked at you. “I didn’t hate you until I found out that you hate me. I still don’t hate you, no matter how hard I try-” The last part was mumbled, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it, but you did. “I don’t hate you! Why would you think that? God, Tech, I was starting to fall in love with you during your last tour, but then you suddenly got all cold and never talked to me.” This made Tech raise his eyebrow. He ran a hand through his hair and avoided eye contact. “You were?”, he asked, his voice soft before it suddenly hardened again. “Then why did you tell your friend that you wanna punch me?” Confusion and realization chased each other across your face, finally it dawned on you. “Tech, you idiot, I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about my neighbour.” He opened his mouth and closed it again. “Oh... So, you don’t hate me?” You shook your head. “In fact, I’d like to take you out to dinner. As a date. If you’d like.” Of course Tech said yes, there was lost time to catch up on after all.

Crosshair

Crosshair might play the drums, it gives him an opportunity to be in the background (and let all his aggressions out)

The two of you had been dating for only a few weeks when he left the band. Afterwards he told you that he needed a bit of space, wanted to be alone for a while. You weren’t exactly happy, but you understood, though when he still hasn’t reached out to you after almost two months you decided to give him a call, only to find out that his number had been disconnected.

It wasn’t until a couple of years later that the two of you met again. It was actually your friend who pointed Crosshair out in the crowded café and encouraged you to talk to him, to find out why he had ghosted you instead of simply breaking up.

“Why did you ghost me instead of simply breaking up with me?”, you opened, having stolen your friend’s exact words. Crosshair, with sunglasses and the usual toothpick between his teeth, looked up from his phone. His face didn’t betray any emotions, but you knew him well enough to recognize a hint of shock in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” You didn’t answer, instead you pulled up the chair opposite of his and sat down at his table. “I asked you first.” There it was, that laugh you had first learned to love and later to hate. It wasn’t a mocking or cruel laugh, instead it reminded you of his reaction whenever you would do something he found cute. “How old are you? You rested your elbows on the table and glared at him, a look that you knew from experience was one of the few things to truly make him uncomfortable. “Old enough to be tired of your bullshit. Now answer my question.”

Crosshair had never been a man of many words, his answer just proved that all over again. “I wanted to start my new life without any baggage from the old one.” Even though you had been hurt after the initial breakup, you considered yourself to be stronger because of it and over Crosshair, but his statement hit you hard. “Is that what I was? Baggage?” Finally he reached up to take the sunglasses off and really look at you. You hated the part of your brain that thought that he still looked good, and as if this conversation didn’t affect him at all. “You didn’t let me finish. I never thought of you as baggage, but you were a connection to my old life, my old band, that I couldn’t take with me into my new life. But I soon realized that I made a mistake, you were more than a connection, it only occured to me after it was too late that I loved you.”

To say you were shocked was the understatement of the century. Of course you had liked Crosshair, but even back then you couldn’t say whether you were actually in love with him. “I know I messed up, but maybe we could meet for dinner and try again.” Those were the last words from the longest monologue you had ever heard him speak. Crosshair put his sunglasses on again and left without another word, though he did leave something behind. You picked the piece of paper up and realized that he had given you his new number, the number you would only have to call to rekindle your relationship, but was that what you really wanted after what he did?

Echo

No doubt, Echo plays the base. It’s the backbone of a band and often underestimated, just like Echo.

The poor guy’s start with The Bad Batch wasn’t the easiest, he joined the band shortly before Crosshair left and many fans thought he was the reason behind the split (which of course he wasn’t, but you know fans). Needless to say that this resulted in some trust issues.

You had been working for the band for what felt like ages, basically from the very beginning and the second you met Echo you were intrigued. It took a bit of time, but he finally started to open up to you and now the two of you were good friends, you were actually one of the few friends Echo had outside of the band.

Though one day your friendship was put to the test. You were backstage, in Echo’s private room, which on itself wasn’t unusual, you spend more time with him than any other band members. What was unusual, and made Echo stop in the doorway, was the fact that you were going through his mail. “What are you doing?”, he asked, not yet angry, but not exactly calm either. He could have sworn that you actually jumped in shock before you turned to face him, guilt written all over you. “Echo, I was just...” “Going through my mail?”, he finished the sentence for you. You knew there was no use in lying, so you simply nodded. “Why?”

The million dollar question, to which you knew the answer would hurt Echo, and possibly your relationship. “I was looking for fan mail.” A gentle smile was now on Echo’s lips. He stepped closer to you, so close that he could take the envelope you were holding out of your hand. “You’re doing a terrific job, but I don’t think you get any fan mail, especially not send to my room.” As if to prove his point he opened the first envelope and started reading. At first his expression didn’t change, then it darkened. Before he could finish you ripped the piece of paper away and threw it in a far corner of the room. “Is that what you were looking for? Hate mail?” You knew there was no sense in denying it any longer. “I’ve been trying to hide it from you, but you get a lot of letters like that. Everyone gets them once in a while, but ever since Crosshair left it’s been a lot.” Echo’s eyes flitted from your face to the letters you were still holding in your hand. “You’ve been doing that all this time? Why?” For some reason the obvious shock and disbelief in his voice broke you more than any words directed at him ever had. “I don’t want you to take what those idiots say to heart. You... You’re perfect just the way you are”, you told him, whispering the last part. Echo stepped even closer to you, so close that you could feel his body heat through both of your clothes. So close that you had to lift your head to continue looking him in the eyes. Slowly Echo took your chin in his hand, his thumb caressing your jaw. The other hand found its way around your waist and you cold feel the cold prosthetic through your thin shirt. “I think you’re perfect as well”, he whispered. Your eyes widened at his words. He had heard you, and he thought you were perfect. Perfect! “Echo, I-”, you started, but he interrupted you. “Since we’re both perfect, maybe we’d be perfect for each other.” A blush crept up his neck as he said those words. You reached up to wrap your arms around the reddening skin. “Maybe we could find out over dinner tonight.” Echo smiled at you, a smile that made you question how anyone could hate him for what had to be the millionth time. “I’d like that”, he said as he leaned his forehead against yours.

-------

This AU just popped into my head and I had to write it down. At first I wanted to make the 501st a band, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do with Anakin and Ahsoka in that scenario, but then it occured to me that the Bad Batch as a band would fit even better, I hope you agree.

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bakugohoex · 3 years

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Heyheyheyy, just binged your blog and can I just say I'm in LOOOVE with your writing style?? Like it's so unique and nicely detailed muahhh thank you for all of your hard work. Anyways, I was thinking of a todoroki fic where he has a crush and really likes them/her(??) And he wants to get closer to them but he doesn't know how because he's socially awkward blepp, so it's jus him trying again and again to get his crush's attention BUT PLEASE MAKE IT SO HE DOES GET THEIR ATTENTION IN THE END AHA

”i thought you hated me”

pairing: shoto todoroki x female reader

cw: fluff, slight angst, kissing, language

word count: 3100+

a/n: hi thank you so much for the support anon, it means a lot, hope you enjoyed this

summary: in which todoroki has a crush on you, and whilst trying to get closer to you his social awkwardness kicks in, making it harder and harder to not mess up whilst talking to you, but in the end he finally confesses after a whirlwind of a week

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Monday.

The wind rushed past your skirt, you could almost feel it lift up, quickly bringing your hands to stop it from flashing anybody. Todoroki noticed after walking with Midoriya to class, you were with Ururaka talking about what you wanted to do next Sunday. His eyes gazed at your palms pushing against the fabric, he felt a cool wind come and knew the back of your skirt would lift up. He walked a bit quicker, Midoriya barely noticing as he spoke, before he was just beside you.

“Hey Y/n.” Midoriya noticed you and Ururaka, he went past Todoroki and went to talk to the girl. You mumbled a hey back before gazing at Todoroki, his eyes concentrated and piercing at how your hands tried to straighten out the skirt.

“Hi Todoroki.” You smile about to wave at him, even though the two of you were close enough that a wave was unnecessary.

He took his blazer off, tilting your own head in confusion at the action, “here.” He passed it to you but even then, you were till puzzled by the action, “wrap it a…around you, the wind might lift your s…skirt up.”

He scratched the back of his head, you smiled at his instruction, wrapping the blazer that smelt of him. It was always a sort of fresh crisp air in the early mornings of December and a fire blazing in a forest type of scent. It engulphed your nose, thanking the boy before trying to make conversation, “last night was tiring deciding roles for the festival.”

“Yeah, it should be a good stress reliever, you’re dancing aren’t you.” Your heart warmed at him remembering what you were going to do.

You were about to say the thing but Kirishima and Denki had come up to you both and started conversing with you two, the blazer still wrapped around your waist. You missed talking to just him and he seemed to want to talk to you, well that’s what you thought. He wouldn’t have come up to you or offered the blazer if he didn’t want to spend time with you.

Arriving at the classroom, you undid the blazer, watching Todoroki go straight to his seat. You held it tightly in your hands, “thank you again for letting me use it.”

“Of course, you can keep it.” You gave a confused look.

You spoke deadpanned, “It’s your school blazer.”

“I…I…” Before he can say anything, you had heard Aizawa come in and rushed to your own seat.

Todoroki began to think what the actual fuck is wrong with him, you can keep it, it was a fucking school blazer not a pen, he put his head in his hands looking down. This wouldn’t be the first time this week he’d say something that came off a bit weirder than usual but even then, his stuttering and social awkwardness was kind of cute.

Tuesday.

You were at lunch the next time you saw Todoroki; he had spent the whole night thinking about what he said, how he really had just wanted to tell you how much he liked it. He noticed you sitting beside Ururaka, taking the seat opposite next to Midoriya, you and Ururaka were talking about your plans on the Sunday, he had overheard yesterday. It seemed like the two of you were going shopping, he watched you bite down on the apple, your soft fingers wrapped around the red core. Your soft plump lips being licked to savour the sweetness, “oh hey Todoroki.” You waved having noticed him.

His breathe hitched at how you smiled at the boy, even putting the apple to wave at him, he waved back before looking down. He continued listening into how you spoke between the group, even conversing to Iida, before landing back on him. “Are you okay?” You spoke with concern, gently kicking his leg to make him pay attention.

“Yeah, I’m f…fine.” He was normally composed but at the sight of you, your soft locks of hair had made him melt.

You nodded, before standing up, the rest of the group in their own worlds, “come on.” You put your hand out, his eyes widened, “I don’t bite.”

He nodded taking your hand, he had imagined how soft your hands would be, but now holding it, the ways your fingers trapped his own. You both left the hall, and you took him outside, “Y/n.”

You turned to face him, you had been dragging him along without realising, “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, you can do whatever.” His eyes widened at what he had just said, why was he saying such stupid things, what did that even mean.

You gave a soft chuckle, before feeling the cool air hit your face, the exposure of sun running across your face. “I thought you needed some air.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, you looked down.” You turned to face the boy, his eyeline not meeting your gaze, his hair seemed a bit messier and you remembered him being a tad bit late in the morning. You had hoped to walk with him, but it was fine, you had now at least.

“Oh, I wasn’t, just tired.” You nodded, trying to catch his eyes, he spoke again, “actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you?”

“Go on.” He watched the tenderness in your smile how your teeth peaked through, he loved how comfortable you were. How you didn’t worry and took everything on with a grin.

He started to speak, “I wanted to k…know if you wanted to g…go o…” He didn’t know how to finish it, he watched your eyes on his own and in a moment said something he was going to regret, “get the supplies with me and Kirishima.”

Your mouth fell, you had expected something else, something more between the two of you. You put on a smile, seeing him play with his fingers, a collection of rings embodied between his veined hands. You loved the rings, even having gone with him to get some before summer had come, but that didn’t count as the both of you being alone. It meant nothing, it was a short two-minute trip and you both just talked about your lives, it wasn’t what you wanted. What you needed.

“Sure, we’ll go Thursday.” The façade of your grin was gone at the sight of seeing it was time to go back to class, “I’ll catch you later.”

You walked away, your shoulders had been tense and you finally let them fall. Maybe you should ask him out instead, then he might say yes, maybe he was trying too, or maybe he really just wanted to ask you to come with him and Kirishima to get supplies.

Wednesday.

The day had been a bore and you had grown excited for tomorrow, even if Kirishima would be there. It was still spending time with the boy; it was still being around Todoroki and that’s all that you had really wanted.

You spotted him walking to the dorms alone and ran up to him. “Hey Todoroki.” You smiled at him; it was the same one that melted him in one the spot. But he kept his composure smiling back as you spoke, “I saw that cool move you did on Deku.” You praised the boy.

You had been watching him, his brain was going into overload, you had watched him and noticed him. He felt his heart raise, “Thanks.” He scratched the back of his head, “I saw your win against Denki.”

Smiling at the boy you began to tease him, “aww where you watching me?” This was your chance to ask him out, start with some flirting and then ease into the asking out.

If only it was as easy as you had thought, “no, no, of course not, I wasn’t staring at you or anything, I, I just saw Denki pissed and that’s all, I don’t watch you or anything.” He was rambling and you looked at him with your mouth open.

The opportunity to flirt back had been ruined and you decided to be more upfront, his face had gone beat red. Why had he rambled so much, why did he keep talking about watching you. He didn’t want to be seen as a creep to you, yeah maybe he was watching you but how could he say that to you.

“Oh, well I wouldn’t have minded if you did.” He looked confused but continued listening to you, “we should hang out sometime.”

You had said it with ease, but Todoroki hadn’t caught on, if he had been thinking properly maybe he would have. No, defiantly if he had been thinking with his normal smart brain he would’ve understood, he would’ve made it into some sort of joke and said that it was his job to ask you out. But he became a mess under you, and he spoke something regretted once again.

“We are hanging out, tomorrow, remember?” You watched his nose scrunch in confusion and your own eyes wide.

“Yeah, I know b…” You were about to continue but you both had arrived back to the dorms and Midoriya and Iida had come up to you both, “yeah I’ll see you guys later.”

You left the situation and most of all you were confused if he was saying it to be nice or if he was genuinely unaware of what you had asked. You shrugged it off, maybe tomorrow, he’d ask you out, maybe.

Thursday.

Kirishima had swinged by your room, seeing you putting on some shoes. “You didn’t have to come with us Y/n.”

“No it’s fine, Todoroki asked.” You had gotten over the events of yesterday, Todoroki hadn’t however, he had been pacing in the kitchen. So in thought about the events, why was he acting like this, acting awkward. He needed to get rid of it and fast, he saw Bakugo walk past and shouted his name.

“What do you want Icy-Hot?” Bakugo raised an eyebrow a sneer on his lips.

Todoroki looked at the boy before taking a sharp breathe, “punch me.”

“What?” The confused Bakugo walked up to him, “where?”

“My arm.” Todoroki closed his eyes, waiting for the punch, Bakugo didn’t even question it, complying due to being able to hurt someone.

He swinged his fist right to Todoroki’s upper arm, “Oww.” Todoroki squealed opening his eyes, he felt better, maybe Bakugo’s punches had some power of their own. But he was glad, he stopped being nervous and awkward.

“Let me know if you want me to do it again.” The blond walked away, and the pain began to set in, it stinged and he felt like Bakugo used his quirk to cause more damage. He rolled his shoulder to lessen the pain seeing you and Kirishima walking down from the elevator.

He noticed how close you two were, how easily you both spoke with one another. Did you like him, he tried to disregard the thoughts, but the way you’d knock against Kirishima’s shoulder made him concerned.

“You two ready?” You both nodded, walking out from the dorms. It was easy to get permission to leave for the festival and as the three of you walked towards the craft shop that was ten minutes away.

Kirishima began the conversation, “she’s a real life-saver agreeing, isn’t she Todoroki.” He knew of the half haired boys feelings for you and was trying to help, stressing the trying.

“Yeah.” It was blunt and Todoroki was in his own thoughts, his own world, did you like Kirishima, what could he do to make you like him? The oblivious boy stayed quiet, Kirishima shaking his head knowing this was going to be a lot harder than he expected.

“Why don’t you two get this stuff?” He passed the list, easily ripping it in half, “and I’ll get this.”

“Are you sure, that looks like a lot?” You questioned, Todoroki watched you, would you rather have gone with Kirishima. It put his mood even lower, but he saw Kirishima walk off into the store and you still with him. “It’s long, we better get started.”

He nodded, grabbing a basket, “about yesterday.” He didn’t know where he was going with this, but then again Bakugo’s punch had given him some confidence, if he could get through the punch of an angry body then he could ask you.

“Oh yeah.” You hummed grabbing the stuff and chucking it into the basket.

He watched you kneel digging out the best option from the back, his eyes warmed, even in a position where you struggled to reach you still looked as pretty as ever. He bent down, putting his hand where yours were, your fingers grazed his, as he grabbed the material that was needed.

You both stayed kneeling, you stared into his eyes, they were perfect, beautiful even and even the scar, it was an apart of him. Something that you had fallen for, his personality, kindness and everything about him, every detail down to smallest of scars to the biggest. You didn’t care, you saw him for him and the close gap between the two of you made your eyes soften. You saw a small crinkles under his eyes, it was adorable, moreover your hand had reached to cup his face.

Just as you were about to touch his cheeks, he spoke, “I wanted to apologise, I didn’t want to go out with you here.” Your heart shattered at those words, you had tuned him out in your head after the ‘with you’, you moved your hand away. Standing up and the realisation of how Todoroki had phrased the sentence had dawned on him. “Wait Y/n…”

Before he knew it, you were gone, he genuinely hadn’t meant to say it like that, he wanted to tell you he wished he had taken you out properly and now a whispered “fuck” under his breath was all he could say. He had messed it all up, you had run off probably crying and it was all his fault. He wanted to run after you, but knew you needed time and that when he saw you next, he’d explain it all. Prove that he didn’t mean what he said.

Friday.

He hated you, you just knew it, you had ran straight back to the doors, running into your room and sobbed the entire night. He didn’t have to be so cruel about it, the words replayed in your head. You couldn’t think of any explanation, he didn’t want to go out with you ever.

You walked dully into class, your hair tattered and uncombed, your eyes dull and tired. The normal happy you who greeted your classmates, instead stumbled inside and collapsed into your chair. Todoroki had watched the entire movement, even the class had noticed your lack of awareness throughout the day. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to go up to you after class. But you left quickly not meeting people’s gaze, he wanted to talk at lunch, but you were nowhere to be.

Hell, he even asked to swap partners but was dismissed, he watched you fight against Denki using your quirk to your might and then glumly hurrying out back to the dorms. He had tried, he had wanted to talk to you but how could he confess, when he had made you feel like this.

His next bet was your room, it was private, and he could confess without the worry of anybody. “Bakugo.” Todoroki spoke seeing Bakugo walk in with Kirishima.

“Punch time.” Todoroki nodded and Bakugo charged at the man, punching the other arm. Kirishima looked at the scene and didn’t dare asking about what the two idiots were doing.

“It’s only one punch, idiot.” Todoroki muttered using his quirk to make Bakugo stop punching the ice shield around his arm.

Bakugo shrugged walking back to Kirishima, Todoroki really needed a new method than to get the angriest boy alive to punch him when he needed some confidence. He began walking to your room, you had been closed off since everybody arrived and now was your time.

He saw Ururaka come out from your room a confused look on her face, “hey Todoroki, Y/n said she doesn’t want to see anybody.” You hadn’t told her of the events, or she would’ve probably been angry at the boy. He nodded but continued on with his path, Ururaka not bothering to stop him knowing how much you liked the half haired boy.

He stood in front of the door, hearing the music come out from your room. He stayed listening before knocking, “Ururaka I told you…” You stopped mid speech seeing the boy.

“Can I come in?” You nodded, letting the boy into your room.

You sat on the bed grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around your body, he stood there watching how adorable and comforted you looked. “I wanted to apologise, i…I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Okay and what did you mean then?” You muttered looking down.

“I didn’t want to take you out to a craft store with Kirishima…” He looked down, “I wanted to take you o…out for real, on a d…date.”

Your eyes widened, looking at the boy, he felt a relief wash over him. He had confessed and you looked at him lost, “you wanted to take me out.”

He nods before coming closer to you, sitting beside you, his gives a soft smile. A tear falls down your cheek, it wasn’t the same as the ones you had had the prior night. It was relief that he didn’t hate you, that he wanted you, liked you and that it was just a misunderstanding. “I thought you hated me” It was spoken with a tone of sadness, he felt guilty looking down and speaking.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to…”

You interrupted grabbing his hand that had been on your bed, “I’d love too.” It was a soft whisper and he noticed how your body had come closer to his own.

How your breath fanned his face, how the blanket had dropped from your shoulders. The way the loose shirt fell down your frame, your exposed shoulder and the way you licked your lips at how close you were. You both tilting your head, feeling the need for each other’s lips, the soft movements to one another, bringing each other’s mouths closer and closer before finally feeling united. The soft lips that he had dreamed to be his were finally on his own.

Your hands seemed rougher than normal but even then, ingrained onto his cheek he felt your thumb caress his face. His own hands on your waist, the sensation of the soft kisses before hearing you give a nimble moan at how he felt on you. His tongue guiding your own inside your mouths, it was seductive and filled with lust from the waiting and confusion that had occurred the past five days.

He had confessed, he had asked you out and now here he was, making you his.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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valdomarx · 4 years

Text

Anon requested: Person A thinks that a proposal would be a great way to get out of a jam. Person B thinks it is a sincere proposal and accepts. Realizing it wasn't done from a genuine place leads to some upset.

In Jaskier’s defence, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Marry me, Geralt!” he called, jogging over to his witcher, a little out of breath.

Geralt’s face pinched into something cross and Jaskier was sure he was about to be told to fuck entirely off.

“It’s the Belleteyn festival tonight,” he explained quickly. “I might have, erm, sown my seed a little more widely than would be advisable in the town.” Geralt scowled. “And there may have been some, ahem, threats against my person made by the local lord.“ Geralt’s scowl deepened. “But we can smooth it all over if we’re wed tonight. There’s some local custom -- forgiveness of past indiscretions for newly married couples on May Eve.“

Geralt was still glowering but he hadn’t said no yet. Jaskier pulled out his strongest move: He ducked his head, looked up at Geralt from under his lashes, and licked his lips. Geralt’s eyes followed the movement of his tongue almost imperceptibly.

“So marry me? Here. Tonight.”

It had been a lovely ceremony, as fake weddings go. There had been music and wine, dancing and merriment, and Geralt even allowed some of the local girls to braid flowers into his hair.

They’d only had enough coin for one ring, a simple silver band, so Jaskier had taken that and he’d given Geralt his father’s signet ring. He’d never have parted with it for anyone else, but it was Geralt. He knew without question he would keep it safe until this ruse was over with.

Perhaps there really was something magical in the air at that time of year, or maybe it was an evening spent at an increasingly raunchy celebration that did it. But after the festivities were over and the townsfolk returned to their homes, Geralt took Jaskier back to their campsite in the woods, laid him down on a bedroll with indescribable tenderness, and fucked him within an inch of his life.

It was everything Jaskier had been quietly fantasising about for years, except more because it was Geralt and even Jaskier’s profoundly vivid imagination couldn’t match the reality of his witcher, every glorious inch of muscle straining and taut, eyes blown wide with lust, taking Jaskier apart and piecing him back together again.

The next morning, Jaskier woke slowly, feeling the telling ache of a night well spent. Geralt was already up, packing up camp and loading their bags onto Roach.

“There’s oatmeal in the pot if you want breakfast,” Geralt grunted. “We should get going soon.” He turned back to his work.

Right. Okay. They just... weren’t going to talk about it then. Back to business as usual.

Jaskier shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course Geralt would be as pragmatic about sex as he was about everything else. A way to get some relief, to meet a need. No expectations.

Hell, it had taken Geralt over a decade to admit they were actually friends. Jaskier felt stupid for even hoping for more.

Sleeping together had been a one time deal, it seemed. Too bad.

Jaskier realised he was still wearing the ring a few hours later. He should take it off, get rid of it. Maybe sell it at the next town.

He should ask Geralt for his father’s ring back too. But it seemed somehow rude to ask, too needy.

And he... well, he sort of liked catching glimpses of it decorating Geralt’s finger, like a tiny piece of Jaskier was with him wherever he went.

Jaskier found his thumb rubbing over the silver band around his own finger over and over again. It was silly, he knew, but he liked the feel of it. He would keep it for now.

After that, things got weird. At lunch, Geralt tried to persuade Jaskier to eat the last of the apples, as if he didn’t know their supply was running low. And at dinner, Geralt hunted and prepared two squirrels for Jaskier instead of the customary one. Jaskier would eat just about anything in a pinch, but charred rodent was not something he felt the need for seconds of.

Everywhere they went, Geralt kept trying to foist food on him. Did he think that Jaskier was weak? That he wasn't able to keep up without extra supplies? Jaskier was, admittedly, not as young as he used to be, but he thought he still measured up pretty well in the fitness department. He didn’t love the implication that he was falling short in some way.

At night, Geralt would lay out their bedrolls close together. Close, but never touching. When he laid down, Jaskier could feel Geralt’s breath on the back of his neck, and his chest ached with want.

He waited every night for Geralt to sneak an arm around his waist and pull him close, or to lean forward and whisper an invitation in his ear. Jaskier would be on him in a second.

But he never did, and every night Jaskier berated himself again for being so foolish and tried to push the thoughts from his mind. It was hard being so close and yet so far from what he truly wanted, but he wouldn’t force Geralt into a situation he wasn’t comfortable with.

After a week of this Jaskier was truly beginning to lose his mind, and it was a relief when they came upon a small town where they could rest for the night. Jaskier could go out, find some company and distract himself from the hopeless longing settled in his bones, even if only for the night.

When he announced his intention to look around the town, Geralt said he would come along too. That wasn’t ideal for Jaskier’s plan of distraction, but he’d make it work. He always enjoyed Geralt’s company anyway.

There wasn't a lot going on in the town, but there was a pretty barmaid in the tavern, a cheerful red-haired lady with exuberant freckles and strong curves. She flashed a smile at Jaskier the moment they walked in.

Perfect. He smiled back, ordered two drinks, and set to flirting outrageously with her. She giggled and teased back, not seeming intimidated by Geralt‘s presence, even though he was growing notably testier as their interactions became more charged.

When she reached over the bar to twirl a finger through Jaskier’s hair, Geralt actually growled.

She backed off and looked at Geralt. “Didn’t mean any harm,” she said. “I’m just being friendly. Unless...” She looked down at their hands on the bar, apparently noting their rings, and then back to Jaskier. “Unless you’re spoken for. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Jaskier said with a laugh, just as Geralt said, “Yes, actually, we’re married.”

Jaskier stared at Geralt. Geralt stared at Jaskier. The barmaid held her hands up in the universal gesture for “none of my business, nothing to see here” and backed away to wipe down a table.

Every muscle in Geralt’s neck was tense and throbbing, and Jaskier had no idea what to say.

“Geralt,” he began, carefully. “is this about the other day? The ceremony? Did you... Did you think that was for real?”

Something pained flashed across Geralt’s face, an expression more raw than any Jaskier had seen on him before. Then he stood, turned, and bolted from the tavern.

“Geralt!” Jaskier called, getting to his feet. “Geralt, wait!”

By the time Jaskier was out of the door, Geralt was already disappearing down the dirt road, not turning back.

Ahh, fuck.

Jaskier left the girl at the tavern with a hurried apology, pausing only to throw their various possessions into bags and to load up Roach before heading out after Geralt. He knew bugger all about tracking, but he knew the direction Geralt was heading, and after that he relied on Roach’s instincts. She at least seemed confident in what to do.

He caught up to Geralt less than a mile outside of town. He was sat alone in a copse of trees just off the road, staring at the leaves.

He didn’t flee as Jaskier approached, though he didn’t turn to look at him either. “Geralt? I’m sorry. I was thoughtless. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Geralt stood slowly and turned to face him, though he avoided making eye contact. “It was a misunderstanding.” Geralt’s face was carefully blank, a look Jaskier recognised from times he was trying very hard to hide his emotions. “A wrong assumption on my part about the seriousness of the ceremony at Belleteyn.”

“Holy hell, Geralt.” Jaskier’s mind reeled. Geralt thought they had really been getting married, and he had been okay with that? “Does that mean... Would you actually want to be married to me?”

“It was stupid,” Geralt gritted out. Anyone else would have thought he was angry, but Jaskier knew him well enough to see he was hurt. “To think it was anything more than a distraction.”

No no no, that wasn’t right at all. Jaskier tried to take Geralt’s chin in his hand but Geralt turned his face forcefully away.

“Is that why you’ve been acting strange?” Jaskier thought back on it: the gifts of food, the aborted attempts at closeness, the feeling Geralt’s eyes on him constantly, checking his well-being.

“I thought...” Geralt wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I thought you wanted things to be normal. Like they always were.”

“If I were married to you for real, I wouldn’t act like everything was normal!” Jaskier exploded. “Damn it, Geralt. I’d kiss you every morning and hold you every night. And I’d tell everyone we met -- everyone -- that I was the luckiest person on the continent, because this is my husband, the one and only Geralt of Rivia, and he’s the best man I’ve ever met.”

Jaskier shut his mouth. Too late, though. Too late to take any of that back.

Geralt’s brow was pinched, though it didn’t quite look like a frown. It almost made him look thoughtful.

Finally he looked at Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Every morning?”

Jaskier felt all the fight leaving his body in one grand sweep. Geralt let him push him to his knees on the ground and allowed Jaskier to flop into his lap. Jaskier brushed a strand of hair from his face. “I’ve thought about kissing you every day for years,” Jaskier confessed.

And then he saw it -- one of Geralt’s oh-so-rare smiles. Not the forced grimace he adopted when he needed to look nonthreatening, or the tolerant lip twitch he’d give Jaskier when he was trying to be funny. No, this was a genuine Geralt smile, more precious than gemstones, the kind that lifted his entire face and reached his eyes.

Geralt threaded a hand into the back of his hair, brought their faces closer, and kissed him. At the touch of their lips every part of him went boneless, held up only by Geralt’s arms and a determination to make as much bodily contact as he possibly could.

His head was spinning by the time they pulled apart for air. Geralt’s eyes were sparkling, and Jaskier could have lost himself in that sight for the rest of his life and considered himself a lucky man.

Geralt leaned their foreheads together. “Will you stay with me?” he asked, very quietly. “Even if all I can offer you is charred squirrel and sleeping beneath the stars?”

“Always,” Jaskier promised, without a shadow of a doubt. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Through the good and the bad, the injuries and the pain, the plenty and the lean times. Through it all, he wanted to be with Geralt.

Jaskier took Geralt’s hand in his and slotted their fingers together. Their rings lay next to each other, the elaborate gold of Jaskier’s crest shining against Geralt’s pale skin and the smooth silver encircling his own finger like an embrace.

It was all startlingly clear. “Marry me, Geralt,” he said, his heart welling over. “For real this time.”

#as usual roach is holding the brain cell #geraskier #the witcher #my writing

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