#i will post much more freely now knowing i won’t have to see anyone’s comments on my shit

[babydollmarauders]

MEAN — ALEX TURCOTTE

alex turcotte x fem!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n opens up to Alex about the hate she’s been receiving from his fans

notes: not proofread! so sorry if it sucks!

y/nonthegram

liked by _alexturcotte, trevorzegras, and 7,297 others

y/nonthegram on a date and our waiter called me a bitch… anyone know what number i can call to complain?

tagged _alexturcotte and trevorzegras

user47 awww they went to dux in tux to support trevor!

_alexturcotte my girl 🖤

y/nonthegram my boy 🤍

user16 thank god she didn’t show her face

trevorzegras sorry, we don’t take complaints 🙅‍♂️ only compliments 💁‍♂️

y/nonthegram that feels very unprofessional

trevorzegras who ever said i was professional? 🤔

jackhughes my boys! looking dapper! and y/n!

y/nonthegram this is y/nphobic

jackhughes i acknowledged you, didn’t i?

y/nonthegram barely

colecaufield @/y/nonthegram i’ll acknowledge you! you look beautiful, y/n!

y/nonthegram @/colecaufield thank you! at least someone appreciates me!

user63 well… trevor wasn’t very far off

user77 have you ever even met her? she’s literally the nicest person ever

user21 she gives mean girl bitch vibes so idc

user98 impatiently waiting for him to dump her

user30 honestly, if he cheats on her on a roadie… would anyone really be upset?

user52 i know i wouldn’t! i think all of us are just praying on their downfall. like, he could do so much better

***

my eyes sting, locked to my phone screen. my hearing is muffled, drowning out the sound of my boyfriend and his best friend just feet away from me.

they sit on the coffee table in front of me, NHL 23 displayed on the tv. they shout curses at each other and the tv, trying their hardest to win for their respective teams on the video game. but my focus is solely on the comments of my most recent instagram post.

all i wanted to do was show off my boyfriend of five years. but his fans were being so mean.

it was nothing new. these comments happened on nearly every post i made. whether they were insulting my looks, or saying Alex deserved better, i could never please them.

usually, i only let myself look at the comments for a moment before deleting them altogether, but today was already a hard mental health day and these comments were hitting me where it hurts. i can’t help but dwell on them longer than usual. today they took my worst fear, and used it as a ‘what if?’ scenario, one of the meanest things they’ve ever done.

i sniffle, standing from the couch. shuffling quickly past my boyfriend, my head hanging low to try and hide my tears as i make my way to our bedroom, shutting myself in the darkened room, the only light being that of the setting california sun peeking through the curtains on the windows.

i crawl up our bed, burrowing myself in a cocoon of blankets and pillows, and turn my phone back on, scrolling through the comments once more. this time, i let my tears flow freely, silent sobs racking my body.

all the comments on my body, my insecurities and flaws, my relationship, even some accusing me of cheating on Alex with our friends. it’s one blow after another, each one cutting deeper than the last.

a loud cry escapes my lips and i clap a hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut and holding my breath; praying to whatever higher power that Alex and Trevor didn’t overhear me from the living room.

my prayers go unanswered when our bedroom door creaks open, the light switch being flipped on, and two sets of footsteps enter the bedroom.

“hey, sweet girl.” i bury my head deeper under the blanket at the sound of my boyfriend’s voice. “you wanna show me that pretty face?”

his gentle tone brings even more tears to my eyes and despite knowing he can’t see me, i shake my head.

“y/n? are you okay?” Trevor asks softly. i feel them both sit on the bed as i hum out a ‘mhm’.

“you sure?” Trevor questions.

“why won’t you let us see you, then?” Alex asks. a hand finds my back, rubbing it soothingly, and the soft touch causes me to let out another cry. i hear some muffled whispering before someone rises from the bed.

“i’m gonna leave you guys to talk, i’ll see you tomorrow.” Trevor announces. “y/n, if you need me, just call and i’ll come right over.”

i hear his footsteps retreating, the bedroom door falling shut behind him before my boyfriend’s hand leaves my back, coming up on the blankets and pulling it down to reveal my tear stained face.

“hey, what wrong, baby?” his eyes are filled with worry, concern dripping from his words like honey. “why are you crying, sweet girl?”

“i’m fine.” i choke and he obviously sees straight through my lie.

“if you were fine, you wouldn’t be crying.” he shifts his body, moving to lay down next to me on the bed. his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me in close, and on instinct, i throw my thigh over his abdomen. his hand comes up to play with my hair, the tips of his fingers scratching my scalp in a calming manner.

“you wanna tell me what’s got my girl so upset?” he questions. he knows he has me in the palm of his hand. he knows exactly what to do to ease my mind and make me feel safe.

“comments.” i whisper into his chest, muttered by lips against his shirt.

“hmm?” he hums. my eyes flicker up to see his brows pulled down in confusion.

“instagram comments.” i clarify, sniffling and wiping at my nose with my hand. “some of your fans aren’t very nice.”

“wait what?” he asks. his hands pause their actions and he pulls my face back to look me in the eyes. “what are you talking about?”

“i didn’t wanna say anything. you love your fans and some of them are so sweet.” i sigh.

his expression is one of betrayal and disappointment. this is exactly why i kept this all from him. he loves his fans so much, i know he would never want to hear that some of them are so cruel.

“y/n, what are they saying?”

“just mean things. things i’d rather not repeat.” i unlock my phone, the screen still on the hate comments of my latest post, and hand it to him, letting him see them for himself.

“what the fuck?” he murmurs to himself. “why have i never seen these?”

“i usually delete them right away.” i confess. “i never wanted you to see them.”

“baby, you should’ve told me about these. these are cruel.” he scrolls through the comments, deleting every comment that isn’t necessarily considered nice.

“i know, but your fans make you so happy. i never wanted to take that from you.” i cry, burying my face in his chest.

“but you make me happier.” his hand rests on my head, the other rubbing my back. “you make me so much happier than they ever could.”

“it just hurts. it didn’t used to hurt this much, but after so long, the comments are getting to me.” i sob. “i just wanna feel okay again.”

“hey, you know nothing they said is true, right? you’re beautiful, and sweet, and the best thing to ever happen to me. you’re the smartest, most thoughtful, kindhearted, loving girl i’ve ever met. and i would never do anything to jeopardize what we have. i would never even think about even entertaining the idea of sleeping with anyone on a roadie, you know that, don’t you?”

i nod my head, sniffling. i raise my head to look at him, his eyes glassy as he wipes my tears.

“i love them, but i love you so much more. and they’re clearly not fans of mine if they think it’s okay to say shit like this about you, let alone to you.”

my insecurities get the best of me and i can’t help but question.

“you’re sure you’re not sick of me?” i whisper.

“you ever looked in my nightstand?” he asks, my eyebrows furrow in confusion and i shake my head.

“not recently, no.” i don’t understand his question, or what it has to do with mine.

he pushes me off of him, my heart sinking in my chest.

this is it.

he’s decided we’re done.

i don’t know what i’ll do without him.

he leans over his side of the bed, shuffling around in his nightstand drawer for a moment before turning back to me, something clasped in his hand.

“i had a more romantic plan, i swear i did. i had a whole speech planned, but my mom said that i should do this when it feels right. and now feels right.”

my eyes widen, my breath going shaky as i consider what he could possibly be meaning in this moment.

i sit up quickly in the bed, as he reveals a black ring box in his hands, opening it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring.

my hands rise shakily to my parted lips, more tears gathering in my eyes as they flicker between him and the ring.

“you asked if i’m sure, and i hope that this ring shows you that i’m absolutely positive. i can’t imagine a life without you. i can’t imagine what my life would’ve been like if you hadn’t called me a ‘stupid waste-of-a-pretty-face hockey player’ when we were sixteen.”

“all you got from that was ‘pretty’.” i let out a choked laugh through my tears.

“and i’m so glad i did, because that one word was all it took for me to fall to my knees. to chase after you and annoy you for an entire year until you agreed to go out with me. and now i never want to live a life without you.

“you’re my biggest supporter, my favorite person in the world, and the only girl i ever want. i love your kind soul, and the way your smile brightens my day. i love your beautiful eyes and the way you laugh over my dumbest jokes. i love that you fought for us to stay together, even when i wasn’t sure if we would work after i was drafted. i love that you dance in the kitchen when you cook, and the way you romanticize every part of our every day lives. i love that you refuse to go to bed angry, and that you sing in the shower and make me duet you. i love you, for everything you are, and everything you will be. and i would love to spend the rest of our lives together, if you’ll marry me.”

i can’t even get a response past my lips, opting to tackle him instead, nearly knocking us off the bed. but Alex’s quick thinking saves the moment, swaying us sideways instead to land on our sides on the mattress.

i straddle his waist, knocking him on his back as my lips glide along his face, peppering kisses on his cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, anywhere i can reach, before settling on his lips.

i pour all of my emotions into this kiss, filled with love and happiness, joy and affection. i suckle his bottom lip as i pull back to look into his eyes, a large grin taking up the bottom half of my face.

“is that a yes?” he chuckles, a hand resting on my lower back, the other still gripping the ring box.

“that’s a yes.” i nod excessively, holding my left hand out for him. he smiles widely, making quick work of removing the engagement ring from the box and sliding it onto my finger.

“i love you so much.” i tell him, grasping his face in my hands as i lower my lips to his once more.

***

y/nonthegram

liked by _alexturcotte, jackhughes, and 11,759 others

y/nonthegram i said yes <3

tagged _alexturcotte

comments on this post have been limited

jackhughes HE DID IT?! WITHOUT US?! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PLAN?!

y/nonthegram plan?

jackhughes i mean.. i’m so happy for you guys! i knew you guys were meant for each other!

y/nonthegram thank you rowdy!

_alexturcotte thanks bro!

trevorzegras HELL YEAH BRO! LOCK HER DOWN! SO HAPPY FOR YOU LOVEBIRDS!

y/nonthegram thanks Z! celebration lunch tomorrow?

trevorzegras just txt me the deets, doll!

_alexturcotte thanks bro, and thanks for keeping the secret, even though you usually have loose lips

trevorzegras @/_alexturcotte i resent that

colecaufield MY BEST FRIENDS ARE GETTING MARRIED!! CONGRATS YOU GUYS 🍾🎉🥳🥂💍

y/nonthegram thank you coley! 😙🤍

_alexturcotte thank you cole!

_quinnhughes when did you grow up? stop growing up! i’m happy for you two, but jeez y/n, i could’ve sworn you were still fourteen and stalking practices yesterday!

y/nonthegram hey! i never stalked practices! i simply liked to observe the sport!

y/nonthegram but thank you quinny 🤍 you’ll be my man of honor, right?

_quinnhughes it would be my pleasure, y/n/n

jackhughes hey! why is QUINN your man of honor and not me?!

y/nonthegram because if it’s you then you’re gonna wear a dress. you wanna be man of honor?

jackhughes ya know what? i’ll let Quinn be your man of honor. you’ve known him longest, so it’s only fair.

y/nonthegram that’s what i thought

lhughes_06 congratulations guys!! engagement party at the lake house?!

y/nonthegram engagement party at the lake house!

#speak now fic list #alex turcotte #alex turcotte x reader #alex turcotte imagine #alex turcotte blurb #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic #la kings #ontario reign #faithlynn’s writings <3

[glowingbadger]

I loved the Ashe, Sylvain, and Hilda modern-day HCs. So….can I ask for….Marianne, Dima, and Claude now? They’re so so good.

Here's a quick list of the places I've touched on ModernAU stuff with these characters before, for anyone who's interested! General Modern HCs (Dimitri) W/ insecure Reader (Claude, Dimitri) W/ insecure Reader (Marianne) Soft HCs (Dimitri)

I'll try not to repeat myself too much, but the SFW portion might be a little sparse because I've written a good deal of my thoughts on that already :3

Marianne, Dimitri, Claude x GN Reader

Modern/College AU headcanons

SFW (not sfw under the cut)

Marianne:

- Definitely a veterinary student who has an incredible, intuitive way with animals. One of those "gets along with animals better than people" types. As a result, many others in her classes see her as aloof or difficult to talk to. Fortunately, when Hilda drags her to a party one night, you notice her keeping to herself and come to make casual conversation. It takes a bit for her to open up, but she's soon grateful for pleasant, relaxing company in the midst of the loud chaos.

- She needs a good amount of reassurance in a relationship, as she's so convinced you could do better. Marianne is totally the type to apologize for not being good enough for you, then apologize for bringing it up, then apologize for apologizing. But her love and admiration for you are so very clear. She'll shyly take your hand in hers, and just the way she looks at you, it's like you're every star and every sunset she's ever seen.

- Marianne spends some of her free time volunteering at a local animal shelter, and one of your earlier dates would involve her introducing you to some of the animals in her care. Here, it's like you see a completely different side of her- she's so much more confident and firm when she speaks to the animals, and she smiles so brightly and laughs adorably as she watches you attempt to make a good impression on them.

Dimitri:

- We've chatted about Modern! Dimitri a good deal so far- but I will double down here on the fact that, while he's outwardly extremely intimidating to your friends when you first start dating, you know (and they learn) that he's absolute Malewife material.

- He loves sitting on video calls with you and just staring at your adorable, lovely face. He's an excellent listener, and will gladly hear about your entire day from start to finish, even if you insist it was nothing special. He's just so soothed by your voice, and the chance to see you. While he's honestly not very good at social media in general, he does have a couple hundred pictures of you saved. Not to post anywhere, just to look back at with a goofy grin on his face.

Claude:

- Claude is the guy on campus that everyone likes, plenty of people want, but no one can really nail down. He seems to know everyone, but he's only actually close to a few good friends, and for the longest time, even they assume that he's the "doesn't believe in serious dating" type. It starts much the same with you- he figures you're interesting and cute as hell, so he may as well spend some time having fun and getting to know you. And then... the feels TM creep in.

- You'll be caught up in a sort of... friendly flirtation with him for a while. The kind where it would be easy to play off all of the corny innuendos and knowing glances as "just kidding around." Then, one night, after a long group study session or just lazing around with drinks and games with his friends, he offers to walk you back to your dorm. When you get caught in a sudden downpour and have to duck under the nearest building's awning for shelter, he gives you a strange lingering look that's so much heavier than any you've seen. And without a word, he leans down to kiss you. When you part, he's wearing a slanted smile, but he's fidgeting a bit when he says, "Hey, uh, Y/N. I wanna be with you- for real. So uh... how 'bout it?"

- Claude is just the most fun boyfriend ever. He's got an active and curious mind, so he's always game to try anything you're interested in, and you'll never be at a loss for date ideas. He's the kind who gets okay grades, though nothing incredible, but his brilliance shines in how he latches on to new information, turning a topic around in his mind until he's seen it from every angle. It's especially charming when he asks to hear about your interests or areas of expertise- he asks all the right questions and the conversation becomes lively just about instantly.

NSFW 18 + v

Marianne:

- You're definitely her first sexual partner (she hasn't even dated seriously until you), and she's going to take a long time to get comfortable freely exploring the physical side of a relationship. She's a big cuddler, once you've assured her that you like it too- she finds it immensely soothing to rest her head on your shoulder or on your chest, just listening to your breathing and feeling you warm against her. But as for sexual affection, she'll start slow, testing things by letting her gentle hands tentatively wander just a little further than before, or deepening your kiss a little more than usual.

- Best practice with Marianne is to let her be the one to suggest or initiate things, but to respond enthusiastically when she does so she knows you're happy with it and you want her as much as she wants you. Your approval and encouragement fills her with warmth she's never felt before, and a sense of bold desire she hadn't even known she was capable of. There's plenty of communication with her- there has to be -but in a way, that becomes its own sort of eroticism. Soft murmurs of, "is this okay?", "does that feel good?", or "can you take more?" mix in with affirmative sighs and moans, turning the negotiation of comfort into a wonderful, slowly escalating path towards satisfaction.

- She's absolutely mortified by the idea of sexting or sending nudes, but if she sends you an outfit she's considering and reply with a coy "You look amazing- can't wait to take that off of you" (honestly the cheesier the better with the pickup lines- being too smooth would intimidate her)- she'll only respond with a single blushing emoji, but you bet she'll be wearing that outfit to your next date.

Dimitri:

- Everyone on campus, including your friends/roomates see Dimitri as such a pure cinnamon roll that you might be surprised to learn he has a rather healthy sex drive underneath all of that sweetness and affection. Granted, he's definitely most likely to desire you when he feels emotionally close to you- but that won't stop him from fucking you nice and deep until your bed creaks. The first time someone overhears you practically screaming out his name, rumors start spreading that your ever-devoted Malewife is actually legendary in bed. It's mostly a raunchy joke, but as far as you're concerned, they're not exactly wrong.

- He's too nervous to actually save any of the spicy pics you've sent him to his phone, but that doesn't stop him from regularly scrolling back through your message threads to find them. Masturbating to porn is fine and good, but when he can look at you biting your lip as you show off your body to him, he pumps his cock and bucks his hips against his hand until he cums far harder than he's used to. Dimitri especially gets a thrill out of the implied part of this- the fact that you wanted to flaunt yourself to him like this and made sure that he would linger on the sight of you.

- A very fun game is to comment or imply something about how good Dimitri fucks you while you're hanging out with his friends. He stammers and turns bright red when you mention how, "Oh don't you worry, Dimitri keeps me nice and satisfied, don't you babe?" with your eyebrows quirked playfully. His buddies nudge him and laugh, and as timid as he appears about it, he'll need you as soon as you're alone together, and he'll hold you extra close and pound into you a little harder than usual.

Claude:

- Alright. Claude is hot, and Claude knows he's hot, and he has no problem using this to his advantage. He'll absolutely send you gym selfies, or raunchy messages when he knows you're with friends or family. During minor disagreements or when you're pretending to be mad at him, he'll slip an arm around your waist and nibble at your ear, whispering, "C'mon babe, don't be like that..." before pulling you close and kissing you until you can't think straight.

- He absolutely doesn't care if people overhear you- in fact, he'll tease you about it, murmuring in your ear that you can't keep moaning for him like that or you'll be heard. But the fact that he's fucking into you harder and deeper as he says it tells you clearly that he wants you to cry out for him. In general, he's pretty shameless about your shared sex life if you allow him to be. He'll practically strut out of your room to clean up in just his boxers, not caring a bit if your roommates get an eyeful. He's handsy in public as well (again, depending on your comfort with it), and will absolutely grab a handful of your ass while you're on a date together, or trail his hand up your thigh during a movie.

- Claude is adventurous and open minded about sex in general, as I've mentioned a couple times. Hell, he'll even send you a porn clip or a bit of smut, along with a brief "we should try this ;)"- and he obviously loves when you do the same for him. He sees no reason to be shy with his partner about your mutual pleasure. Communicating your preferences will make sure you both enjoy yourselves, and the process of even talking about it can be pretty hot on its own.

#marianne von edmund #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #marianne x reader #dimitri x reader #claude x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #feh #fire emblem headcanons #modern au #fluff and smut #fire emblem x reader #x reader

[vibraniumwing]

only girl in the world.

a sam wilson x fem!reader wherein the reader cleans the apartment due to jealousy.

WARNING: NSFW (18+, minors DNI. ), praise kink, oral stimulation (f receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration (wrap it before you tap it lovelies), light choking, swearing, the setting is set somewhere in between AoU and CACW so like around the time in Ant-Man ?? also slight au ( i think )

A/N: so this is for @anchoeritic's 3k writing challenge! seeing that she’s a fellow sam wilson simp, i chose him for this fic (and we are seriously lacking in sam wilson content i hate this) and because it’s sam’s birthday we’re gonna celebrate >:)))) icb he’s an aries though. uGh

prompt/scenario: character A catching character B singing

word count: 3.7k

---

Dating a superhero meant there was a lot of restrictions; cuddles and movie dates with them are fleeting moments since you never know when they would get a call about a grape-headed alien terrorizing the planet and you couldn’t flaunt them as much as you wanted to because your safety would be greatly affected if their arch nemesis finds out about your existence.

But regardless of it all, you were thankful because Sam never made you feel less of what you really are to him. A lot of your friends who know about your relationship with The Falcon were envious about how mature the both of you are, managing to balance both of your work lives and your personal ones at home; none of them really knowing how immature the both of you are behind closed doors.

Making this another reason why you loved the privacy being hidden from the public eye; you felt like you were in your own coming-of-age, rom-com movie with Sam with all the hidden rendezvous at The Washington Mall at midnight and drive around the empty streets of the city just until the crack of dawn or just stay at home and cook countless of meals, teaching each other recipes from both sides of your families

It was the relationship anyone could have ever dreamed of.

---

“You’re not making this any easier for me, baby girl.” Sam said, sighing inwardly as he stuffed his duffel. He was going over to New York for a few days, probably on another mission with the Avengers (or training with them) and you weren’t having any of it; wanting nothing more than to have him home and with you for a few more days一 possibly forever if that was even possible.

You groaned softly at his response, sitting on the bed with your knees hugged to your chest as you watch him ready his things for yet another mission. “Then don’t go” You simply told him, face holding the same sad expression as your lower lip was jutted out in a small pout as you looked away, not waiting to tear up once again; him leaving for missions was always the hardest.

A chuckle left his lips, setting the suitcase down on the carpeted floor of your shared room before claiming his spot next to you; the dip of the bed from his weight caused you to look at him. “You know I wouldn’t dare to leave if I had the chance to, right?” He asked, his scooting closer to you and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “But I always come back, right? Because you’re my home.”

You relaxed under his touch, stretching your legs unto the bed and wrapped your arms around his muscular frame, hugging him close to you in fear that he might disappear all of a sudden. “I know, but do you really have to go?” You murmur, hiding your face against his neck, the way your breath falls on his skin causes goosebumps to rise on his own.

“I have to, they need me, sweets.” He explains, wrapping his arms around your own frame and squeezes gently, enough to convey that he’ll be fine; that he’ll be safe and unharmed after all of the fighting he has due.

“I’ll be back in no time.” His reassurance made you sigh inwardly, knowing that you can’t convince him otherwise. Sam was always just like that, once something is set on his mind on something, he won’t stop until he gets it done. He rarely second guesses what he wants and he does, you’re the person he talks to.

You didn’t speak anymore, opting to let the warmth from his body consume you and lull you into sleep, his hand tracing small shapes into your back as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go to sleep, baby. I love you.”

---

The sunlight that peeked in through the sheer fabric of the curtains was enough to wake you up, reaching over to Sam’s side, expecting to feel him there but instead you were greeted with the sound of paper crumpling from the side of your hand. Stirring awake, you sat up and grabbed the note that was folded neatly.

“I’ll be back soon, baby girl. Don’t miss me too much, I love you.” You read outloud, adoring how neat his handwriting was, hugging the paper to your chest before whispering, “I love you too” before placing the note by your bedside table, rolling out of bed to get on with your day when your phone dinged. Looking at the lit up screen, you smiled at the message from Sam.

[ from: birdman lover ]

- It hasn’t even been a day and I already miss you.

- This’ll be a long week.

- Have a great day though.

- I love you.

---

- Steve’s still clueless on how phones work but he’s getting there. He “greets you a hello”.

The rest of the week was your normal routine, aside from the occasional texts and calls you would get from Sam whenever he had the chance to check his phone; telling you how much he missed you and sharing stories of what’s going on inside the compound. It was like he never left, the only difference being he wasn’t physically there to give you the affection.

Saturday morning soon rolled around and you were bouncing off the walls excited that you had to wait just one more day before Sam could come back home; come back to you. You practically bounced off the walls as you did all your errands一 mainly you getting your car cleaned and your weekly Target run一 and your day was all rainbows and sunshines.

Until it wasn’t. You were scrolling through your Instagram when you saw a picture that made your blood boil immensely. It was a photo of an actress (who was extremely good looking) in the arms of The Falcon. You had to take a few moments in to fully register the fact that the woman had managed to snag a photo with him, “He’s even hotter in person.” You read the caption out loud, eyes rolling in irritation, even replying to some comments from her fanbase, making it seem like they were dating.

You rarely get jealous about anything with Sam, being so secure with your relationship with him but seeing someone who has a platform freely post him made you writhe in your seat about how you should be the one flexing him like that, not her or anyone else.

You opted to call your lover to tell him how you feel but there was this side of you that didn’t want to go through a whole discourse with him through the phone so you went with the better option, cleaning the fuck out of your apartment until your agression washes away.

Plugging your phone to the sound system, you started off with Rihanna’s Only Girl in the World before grabbing the broom from the small closet in your apartment's kitchen, starting to sweep the floor. “You’re a bad bitch, Y/N. Now go clean,” You hyped yourself up in the mirror before strutting back to the living room to sweep your emotions away.

Unbeknownst to you however was the fact that Sam was well on his way home. He got to go back home earlier than expected and he didn’t tell you, wanting to give you a surprise. Jogging up the stairs of your apartment complex, he was practically rushing to make it your door so he can finally kiss you.

Finally finding the keys to your shared apartment, he opened the door and slowly creeped in, expecting to see you seated on the couch but what he saw was something else. He was stunned beyond words to see you clad nothing but his shirt and a messy bun while holding a broom, singing your heart out.

“Want you to make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world” you sang out loud, holding onto the broom as if it was a mic while you danced, awkwardly body rolling to the beat. “Like I’m the only one that you’ll ever love, like I’m the only one who knows your heart” You continued, starting to “sweep” the floor again while grooving to the beat of the song, not noticing Sam who was silently watching you.

“Like I’m the only one who’s in command” Your voice blending into the music as you rocked around the room, singing your heart out to the chorus. “Cause I’m the only one who understands how to make you feel like a ma一 Sam!”

You dropped the broom, jumping up in the air as you turned around to see your boyfriend leaning by the wall, watching you with an amused expression while holding his arms out to you. “Are you just gonna stand there or come here and give me a hug?” He questioned, raising up an eyebrow at you.

Wasting no time, you paused the song before making your way over to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as you hugged him. “How long have you been here? Why are you here already? Shouldn’t you be coming home tomorrow?” Your bombardment with questions made him chuckle, his arms going under your thighs to support your weight, walking towards the couch and settling the both of you on there.

“I wanted to surprise you, baby. We finished a little bit earlier than expected so the moment we got back to the compound I was well on my way home.” He answered, one of his hands retreating from your backside to sneak up and cup your jaw, thumb tracing it gently. His eyes were locked with yours, filled with adoration and love as he continued, “turns out you have a surprise of your own for me. What’s got you cleaning so aggressively?”

You laughed, the anger you had just moments ago melting away as you lean into his touch, “It’s nothing, Sammy. Just me being a little jealous, is all.” You explained, finding it easy to admit your feelings. Your relationship with him was just like that; centered on honesty, understanding, and love. The reason why you’re so assured with him.

“Jealous? What’s got my baby jealous?” His brows were furrowed at the answer, mind trying to remember his actions prior to this conversation to see if he had done anything wrong but came up with nothing. “Did I do something?” He questioned, sitting up a bit as the conversation got more serious.

“I just saw this picture of this you and this actress posted on her instagram and一” you paused, finding it silly now that you’ve even been this jealous about this in the first place. “一I just got jealous that she could post you on their social media so freely. Kind of made me realize that I’m still not existent in the eyes of others; I should be the one posting you like that. Kind of made me realize that I’m not the only girl in the world that wants you.” you finished, not wanting to look into his eyes anymore at the sudden sadness from being hidden.

Normally, you wouldn’t even bat an eye on it but seeing how broken you were, Sam was shattered that you had to go through that thought. “There’s no need to feel ashamed that you got jealous, Y/N.” He said, the hand that was on your jaw now going under your chin to make you look at him again. “I know I insisted that I hide you from the public eye so you can be safe from harm and I’m sorry that because of it makes you feel like this.”

He sighed softly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your lips. “But if you’re ready to be introduced to everyone, even to the team, then I’ll be more than glad to show you to the world.” Sam said, his lips just millimeters away from yours, “The only girl I’ll ever love.” He finished, locking his lips with yours.

You swore on the fact that Sam’s lips were made for your own, the pace slow and sensual, enough to relay that he was sticking to his words and that you didn’t need to worry about anything. His plush tiers felt soft against yours, his teeth sinking into your bottom one, nibbling against it softly before swiping his tongue against it.

“Does my angel want me to show her how much she really means to me?” He whispers, pressing one more kiss to your lips before pulling back, locking his gaze with yours, pupils blown with love and adoration clouded with a hint of lust over the thought of seeing you squirm under him.

Given the fact that you were sitting on his lap, you could feel how hard he was under you. “You feel that, darling? You do that to me.” He groans as you shift, the friction causing his dick to twitch inside his tight jeans. “Be a good girl and use your words, baby.”

“Want you, Sam.” You say, mind too aroused and clouded with perverse thoughts due to the lack of touch you had from him this week to make a concise sentence. “Want you to make me feel good, please.” You beg, brows furrowing lightly in need as you watch him study your expression, a small smile forming on his lips as he easily hoists you up, arms gripping your thighs.

“How can I resist such a good girl begging for me to make her feel good?” He questions, gracing your lips with another chaste kiss as he carries you into your shared bedroom, placing you on the bed as he hovers above you. “I’ll make you feel so good tonight, sweets.”

His lips are then on yours again, his lower half grinding on yours a few times to rile you up, making you elicit a few moans that caused him to go overdrive. He grunts, taking in the scandalous sounds you make before sitting back up, taking the shirt off from your body, throwing his head back at the sight of you clad in only your underwear. “You do know how to make me go wild, baby doll.”

You smiled at him, happy that you were able to make him go haywire at just the sight of you not even fully naked. “My clothes never seem to stay on with you around anyways.” You answer, making him chuckle lightly as he started to attack your neck with kisses, nipping at the skin quite harshly making you hiss in pleasurable pain.

“You look better naked” was all he said before taking in one of your breasts, tongue swirling around the hard nub as his hand teased the other, fingers pinching on it lightly making you take a sharp gasp. He did this for a few moments before kissing his way from the valley of your breasts all the way down to the top of your panties.

Sam looked up at you with a devilish grin upon the realization of what lingerie you were wearing, “My angel looks so good.” he praises, taking a moment to admire your already fucked out appearance with lips swollen and hickey littered skin. He was quick to take off your underwear, eyes filled with hunger at the sight of your soaking cunt.

This feeded his ego to no ends, seeing you so needy for him. “I haven’t even touched you yet you’re already so wet for me, baby girl.” he commented, hands caressing your inner thighs teasingly as he took a moment to drink in the sight of you.

The way his rough and slightly calloused hands were in juxtaposition to the smoothness of your skin granted goosebumps to run along your skin, the cold air of the room adding on to your arousal. “Sam, please. Need you.” You begged once more, attempting to close your legs for some needed friction but his sudden grip on it making you think otherwise.

“Almost there, baby. Patience.” He said, bringing two digits to very lightly graze upon your slit before bringing it up to your lips, his thumb tapping your bottom lip, “Open up, sweets. Wanna see you taste yourself first.” He ordered, wanting to see you suck on his fingers.

Wanting nothing more than his touch, you easily obliged and took his fingers in without him prying them open. Your eyes were locked with his as you sucked on it, setting a blaze inside his eyes that you haven’t seen before, that lone making your stomach twist in knots.

As soon as Sam was satisfied at how wet you made his fingers, he finally gave your throbbing pussy the attention it yearned for. Inserting the two digits inside of you with ease as he slowly started to pump it in and out of your heat while his thumb rubbed circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You were a moaning mess under his touch, back arching at the slightest touch he would do to your clit. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure he was providing you. “F-fuck!” You breathlessly moan, hips bucking up as you wanted more of his touch.

Sam then leaned, tongue lapping up your sweet juices as he sucked on your aching clit, the gentle suckling was sinful to your ears. He moaned at the taste of you, its vibrations against you making you whine at the contact. He curled his fingers inside you, easily finding your sweet spot upon seeing how you writhed under his touch.

With Sam’s tongue abusing your clit to no end and his digits mercilessly pumping in and out of you, the tension was all too much to handle that the knot that was in your stomach finally broke. “Go on, baby. Come for me, why don’t you.” He said, feeling how your walls were clamping up around him. The euphoria that followed made your legs tremble as you reached your high, shamelessly moaning Sam’s name mixed with profanities as he continued to finger you through your orgasm.

“Such a good girl for me” Was his words, rising up from his position. You watched as he licked up every last drop of your cum off his fingers, rolling off the bed to rid himself off from his own clothes, your mouth practically watering at the sight of his rock hard length that sprung out from the tight confinements of his boxers.

You were gonna reach out to feel him when he stopped you, “No, baby. Tonight, it’s all about you, remember?” he said, stroking his length a few times, thumb circling around his tip that was glistening with pre-cum as he got back on the bed, positioning himself on top of you. “You ready?”

“Y-yes, Sam.” and upon hearing your answer, he eased into you. Both moaning at the longing of feeling each other intimately. No matter how many times the two of you would fuck, you still couldn’t get used to his size. He filled you up quite easily, his hips meeting yours as he filled you in deep.

Ever the gentleman, he waited for you to give the signal that you were ready and upon your nod, he started to move slowly, wanting to ease you into the pace.. Sam’s groans were music to your ear, “So fucking tight, angel.” He said, one of his hands reaching up to wrap around your neck, pressing against its sides lightly.

“F-faster, Sam. Please” You said and he complied, like your words were pressed a switch in him, he started to relentlessly slam into you, fucking you into the bed and into oblivion. His other hand was on the headboard, palm spread out to gain some support, the bed shaking violently as he continued.

“Let me hear those moans, angel. Let everyone know who you belong to.” Sam said, the hold around your neck tightening slightly, wanting to see you slowly gasp out for air as you let out those heavenly yet sinful sounds, “Who do you belong to, baby?”

“Y-You, Sam!” You answer, feeling your body writhe as another orgasm was already brewing at the pit of your stomach. “F-fuck, I-i’m yours!” You continued, eyes practically rolling to the back at the immense amount of pleasure you got from him drilling you into the mattress.

With those words that left your lips, he started to pound to you even rougher, not caring if the neighbouring apartments heard your cries of pleasure or the squeaking of the bed. You were his and it was his very intention to let everyone know that. “That’s right, doll. You belong to me.” he said, his eyes on your fucked out face. “Mine to fuck and mine to love.”

Feeling the knot in your stomach about to burst, your hands were gripping the bed sheets as you cried out in pleasure, “I’m gonna cum!” body unable to handle the amount of pleasure being handed to you as Sam continued to fuck you out, riding out your high until his own climax hit with one final slam, moaning as he filled you up with his own cum.

Pulling out slowly, Sam took the time to admire his own cum mixed with your drip down from your cunt, a feeling of satisfaction spread through his chest at the sight of you. He leaned in to kiss you once again, this time it was soft and just filled with love, hand running along your sides gently, “Such a good girl for me.” he whispered, pressing one last kiss before he stood up and walked over to the bathroom.

You attempted to follow him, but ultimately failed as your legs were shaking too much from your recent orgasm. You could hear Sam chuckle as he re-emerged from the other room, a wet washcloth in his hand as he approached you. “Let me take care of it, alright princess?” He said softly.

He then started to clean you up, making sure to whisper soft praises about how you took him so well and of how you were so good for him. The moment he was done, he mindlessly threw the cloth into the hamper, collapsing on the bed and took you in his arms, eager to cuddle you. Sam pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “I love you, Y/N. You’re the only girl I’ll ever love.”

You hummed softly, making yourself comfortable in his arms, reaching up to steal a kiss from him, “I love you too, Sammy. I’ll always love you.”

---

TAGLIST: @harrysweasleys @selenasprompts @weasleytwins-41 @anchoeritic @darthwheezely (hello fellow the falcon simp)

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#kelly's 3k wc ! #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fics #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson imagines #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson smut #the falcon #the falcon x reader #anthony mackie x reader #mcu #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu smut

[writefightandflightclub]

At ease, soldier (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader)

What is this? This is 8/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is “I’ve never seen you dressed-up like this and **** you’re hot.”

Summary: when Santi moves in with you following his divorce, he didn’t anticipate seeing you in THAT DRESS. It does things to him, and has him reevaluating everything he feels for you, and everything he thinks he knows about home.

Author’s note: this has divorced!dad!Santi, so it’s a bit different (marriage / child not with reader). This might not be my best thought-out one-shot ever, or my best portrayal of Santi, but it is what it is. I personally think the thing reader does is adorbs, fight me if you disagree :P I really hope you like it! <3 Thank you as always for reading, commenting, and sharing. It means the world.

Rating: M/E (18+ ONLY, Minors do not read or interact. Thank you.)

Word count: this is not as long as some of the others! Hurrah!

Warnings: masturbation (m); Santi has super sexual thoughts about reader and they’re not together- they are written but not said out loud. theme of divorce but not too angsty. few mentions of shared custody / parenting (not reader’s child). Food mentions. Swearing. Kissing. Lmk if I missed any.

GIF: @realoscarisaac​

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl​ @anetteaneta​ @stardustkenobi​ @casifer-is-king​ @foxilayde​ @tlcwrites​ @aellynera​ @kindablackenedsuperhero​

“Hey, look. Thank you for this,” Santi says, softly and sincerely as you cross him again in the hallway, halting you with a hand on your shoulder. The heat from his palm bleeds through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and you consider wresting yourself sharply away from the pleasant torment of him. At the same time, you consider leaning in to his warm chest and staying there, so help you, curled like a leaf against the sturdy trunk of him.

He’s moving in with you, following the long, drawn-out process of his divorce. It has been a long time coming, but his marital house -which he has lived in alone going on a year - has finally been sold-off and split with his ex. And so, here he is, treading lightly and making himself small in your home - as if this isn’t somewhere he’s been loud and brash and welcome ever since you bought the damn place.

You can tell he’s grateful. He’s expressed it enough times. It’s the apology in his eyes you can’t stand - as if he’s some kind of burden. He’s been through a lot, but you want him to walk tall, instead of stooping under the weight of his “bad decisions”. He blames himself for a lot of things that you don’t think he ought to, not least the collapse of his marriage. She had cheated; although, he insists there were problems long before that. Perhaps even right from the beginning. He’d always been a travelling soldier, and even after he was discharged he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I promise. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet,” he adds, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his scruff.

You smile softly. His promises still mean something to you. Even if he hadn’t seen through the promise of his marriage, you know he had tried. You know his word is never given lightly.

It’s hard. To start again, all over again. You know. You, yourself, were rattling around in a house too big for one, bought for two, perhaps meant for more - but that hadn’t worked out either. You’d had to forego promises you made as well.

“There’s no rush. Honestly.”

There isn’t. Between the legal fees and alimony, and carving up his assets, Santi needs a little time to get his finances together before he can consider his own place. You’re happy for him to take all of the time he needs. Out of the options available to him, you had been both the preferred one, and the last to offer. The other boys don’t have space. He’d considered a houseshare, but he needed somewhere his little daughter, Ava, could still come to stay on weekends.

You have space. Ava adores you. You were spending a lot of time with Santi anyway. For all those reasons, it was a no-brainier. You’d only hesitated so long in offering due to your impossible, undying love for the man. Did you really want to do that to yourself? To torment yourself with him, in your home?

“It’s no problem at all, but I do need you to haul this stuff inside a little faster, okay? I still have a date tonight, slowpoke.”

“You got it, boss.”

You chuckle, punching him playfully in the tricep, and traipsing out to the lawn to pick-up another box.

Perhaps it was ludicrous to go on a date tonight, of all nights, but at least you admit to yourself that it is an exercise in majorly over-compensating. It is some conscious attempt to signify how Not Into Him you are, and you are hoping -if the guy is cute enough and the sex is earth-shattering enough- that perhaps you could even convince yourself.

Aside from your well-established feelings for him, this whole arrangement is pretty dangerous. Santi is too easy to be around, and if you let yourself sink into the cosy bubble of his company, you fear you will never think to look for anyone else again. Whilst that would be just fine with you - Santi, on the other hand? He’s never been interested in you like that. Probably hasn’t ever entertained the idea of it. Besides, the timing between you two - even if there was something there- has never been quite right. There was always some mission or woman or man or bad decision getting in the way.

You sigh, as you bend and pick-up a box, feeling like your date is already doomed as thoughts of Santi swirl relentlessly in your head.

You can hope, perhaps, that it won’t turn out to have been a terrible decision to invite him into your home. Perhaps living with him will even help you get over him, once and for all, in a way that nothing and no-one else has managed to. You could discover all of his annoying habits and start bickering over whose turn it is to take the bins out until you hate each other, perhaps? However, somehow you think this is unlikely - when you’d broken up with Malik, Santi’s presence in your house had gotten you through. His laugh and his warmth had curled into every corner of this structure and nestled there, driving out all of the cobwebs. Santi made this house a home again, before he ever lived in it. In a way, you dread to think what will happen now.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” you encourage - this time as you cross him on the landing. “Put your stuff wherever. Take up some space. Hang your guitar above the fireplace. Hell, get a new one. Hang that too.” That had been a point of contention with her. “Paint your bedroom black, like you always wanted when you were a kid, whatever you want.”

Santi smiles warmly at you as he gets the message you’re so desperately trying to hammer home. You don’t want him to shrink himself into a corner. You want him to be at ease here. You want him to feel welcome.

With words escaping him, Santi’s hands wind around the back of your head, and he casually leans over, planting a quick but heartfelt kiss of gratitude, right in the middle of your forehead. “I love you,” he says freely, and, as he trots abruptly down the stairs, you only wish he meant it in the same way your heart sings its reply.

You do want him to relax here. He’s carried so much for so long. He’s carried it halfway around the world and back again, and the man deserves the break.

****

“Can I ask your opinion?” you call through his new bedroom door, cracking it and poking your head in as he responds affirmatively.

“Sure, come in.”

Santi watches as your body follows the path of your head, the slow reveal of your striking dress oddly tantalising, and sending a subtle surge of heat through him which he wasn’t prepared for. 

“How do I look?” you say apprehensively, holding out your palms before doing a little half-swivel, one hand poised on your hip.

Santi’s extremely conscious that his eyes widen, and he swears he must look like a cartoon, feeling like they’re popping out of his head in surprise when he clocks you.

You’re wearing a form-fitting, flattering dress. It’s long, and it hugs you perfectly where it touches, with subtle hints of leg and cleavage where the luxe material gives way to soft, inviting skin. Your hair and make-up are different than usual too, and you really look the whole package - so much so that Santi takes a minute to form a coherent thought, beyond the low whistle he expels when he sees you stood before him.

Shit - he knows it has been too long since he said anything, and yet all he can muster from his slack jaw is a feeble croak.

Wow. Holy shit.

Santi is a little thrown. Your body looks amazing. You look sultry and sexy, and like sex-on-legs, if he’s honest. He tries to think or speak, but he’s not sure if he’s ever seen you dressed-up quite like this, and you have him feeling more than a little stupefied.

He gulps.

It’s not as though you look transformed, or anything. You’re an attractive woman, always, and the dress simply highlights that. No change there. But the way he’s responding to you is something new, and not something he entirely understands. Perhaps he simply became so used to seeing you clad in fatigues and sweats and overalls, usually covered in mud and sweat and blood. Perhaps he’s spent so long schooling himself into believing you’re someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t hit on -his friend- that he simply buried it. Buried it under his missions and his marriage and his house and his divorce. But now that all of those things are gone, and all the silt stirred-up, perhaps there is space for it to resurface? Now that, for the first time in a long-time, he feels at ease, and, here you are, looking like that?

Oh boy. His eyes trail over you further as though he can’t get enough. His gaze snags on the places the dress clings to you, providing a subtle outline of your form. He lingers on the places where you’re practically busting out of it- he likes those places especially.

He likes it a little too much, he realises, as he experiences an involuntary rush of blood to his cock, and he subtly rearranges his hands in front of him to disguise the fact as he stands to attention for you. 

Fuck, what would Frankie say? Santi thinks, as he reaches for literally any wholesome thought where none seem to exist - in his mind nor his vocabulary - while he’s looking at you.

“You look nice,” he manages to say, but that’s not how he’s phrasing it in his head. Not at all.

I wanna shove my tongue between your thighs, honey. I want you to slip those red lips down on my dick until you drain my balls dry.

“Nice?” you bristle. “Nice, Santiago? I don’t want to look nice.”

“How do you want to look?”

Naked, on my bed? Or, maybe that dress hitched all the way up. Those juicy hips of yours being marked by my hands as I bounce you on me until I fill you up.

You cross to the cheval mirror at the opposite side of the room, further examining yourself.

Holy shit, you look good from the back too.

Santi may be a lapsed Catholic, but he certainly feels like he needs to visit confession with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. He swears he must have started visibly sweating.

“I don’t know,” you say, softly twirling. “Bangable, I guess? Come on, you’re a straight, hot-blooded male. If a woman turned-up to a date wearing this, would this do it for you? It’s not too much?”

He gulps. “Yes. Yep. For sure. That’ll do it.”

When you flick your eyes back to him, with a soft, humble smile, laced delicately with an inner confidence, he finally has a wholesome thought again:

You’re beautiful.

“I think it’s a little too much... but I guess we’ll find out,” you sing-song, his eyes following your hips as you wiggle back to the door, before turning back to him over your shoulder. “Do you have everything you need before I go?”

He looks at your plush red lips. He licks his own.

I need you on your knees.

Oh well, he’d managed to be wholesome for all of two seconds. That was something.

“I’m good,” he pushes out. “When will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” you breeze. “He has a nice pad, so if it works out I think we’ll be heading to his place.”

His place?

Santi can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly imagining what sounds you might make underneath another man. Hell, whether he could double the intensity of those pretty noises under him instead.

This is not ideal. This is not ideal at all, when he hasn’t even made it through day one.

He hasn’t felt this... aroused in a long-time. Not since long before things went south with her. He hasn’t been this hard for a woman in just as long. He’s been hard in the sense of a mechanical, routine need, sure, where he has the basic need to pleasure himself; but this is something else. This is potent. This is lust, raw and consuming. This is not a general need, but it is startling in its specificity.

As you leave, and he takes himself urgently out of his pants, he understands that this is all for you. Moreover, as he winds his hand around himself, and works his shaft to the thought of you, he has the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

When he’s done, he has some severe post-nut clarity, feeling guilty that he has moved into your home and spilled himself on your sheets to the thought of you; on day one, no less. It’s not very respectful.

But at the same time, he’s caught in a spiral. It’s like you have flipped a switch in him.

And, as much as he feels a little guilty, and a little terrified by the sudden onslaught of his desire, he feels oddly at ease. He already feels at home.

****

Santi is curled-up on the couch when he hears your key rattle in the door, and you tread in looking just as breath-taking, but a little more sombre than earlier. Having already shed your coat and kicked-off your shoes at the door, you collapse into the arm chair opposite him, your dress ballooning momentarily with a waft of air.

“It didn’t work out,” you explain solemly, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. He flicks off the distracting TV he was half-watching to give you his full attention.

“How?” he asks, leaning unconsciously forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised and mouth curling in a soft sympathetic smile. “There’s no way he didn’t like the dress.”

“Oh, he loved the dress. But I didn’t love him. He was a bit of an ass, actually. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You okay? Did he hurt you? Say something to you?” Santi searches your face urgently, his eyes suddenly intense and muscles coiled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

You lean forward in your own seat and pat him on the thigh. Your perfume wafts over him. You smell delectable. “Stand down, Garcia. You’re fine. I don’t need anyone knee-capped. I’m just tired.” You stand, and his chin tips up to follow you. “Gonna wash-up and go to bed,” you add, tiredly. “Your night okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he says briefly, more concerned with you. You look a little sad. A little wistful, he thinks. “Think I left my entire box of underwear in ‘Fish’s car. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He smiles up at you gently, with those deep, brown eyes of his, as that earns a light laugh from you. He saws his hand over his chin, gaze remaining soft as he watches you disappear and bid him goodnight. You swing around the doorframe as your hand clutches it, a trail of diaphonous fabric floating after you, as though you are a vision which could disappear in a cloud of smoke. It scares him that you would, he realises. He’s usually the one who disappears. Who retreats.

He watches you slink away, his mind already busy, working on how he might pick you up from your slump, and he plods to the kitchen.

You are upstairs in your en suite when he calls in to you, and, once you admit him, he transfers a steaming mug of sleep tea to your night-stand as a little pick-me-up. A small token, but one that makes you gasp in a breath, looking at his thoughtful gesture in confusion and surprise. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

“Don’t sound quite so surprised,” he says thickly as he approaches you where you hover next to the sink. “Just because she ditched me doesn’t mean I’m a total write-off. I do have some redeeming qualities.”

He wraps his hands around the back of your head and he pulls you to him, planting another kiss to your forehead; but this time, in the dusky bedroom light, it hits different. It is slower and softer, and he looks far more comely. It sends a hot flare of yearning through you, blazing into every nook of you.

“I know that,” you say steadily, your fingers and thumb reaching up to play idly with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Your fingers brush his arm before you check yourself, turning away from him and towards the sink so that he can’t see your desire catching like a flare - and instead you continue to cleanse the make-up from your face, grateful for the cover the activity provides. “In fact, maybe I should have gone to dinner with you,” you snicker, innocently, before you think of the full implication of your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean like that...” you hastily backpedal. “Just because we live together I’m not planning on getting ideas.”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady and soothing enough to halt your ramble. “You can go getting ideas if you want to.”

You whip your head towards him, a gulp trailing down your throat, as you see the vaguest hint of a suggestive eyebrow, of a smug smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You will yourself to remain in place; to avoid the call to lean in to his inviting lips or chest - even if he’s not giving you any signal that he would move away if you did.

You are hot aren’t you? Santi thinks. More than that; you are beautiful too. Now that he’s allowing himself to notice it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Seeking air, and space, the world shrinking to a dot, you tear yourself away from the sink and stride out into the bedroom, posting yourself at the door and signifying it is time for him to head out too. He takes the hint, and he comes to stand opposite you in the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweat pants.

“How are you doing?” you ask breathily, not knowing what has come over you but trying to push this heady, unravelling feeling away. To bundle it up and bind it back down. “First night in a new place?” You consider it, chiding yourself. “I should have been here. This whole date thing was stupid.”

It’s not a new place at all though, Santi thinks. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been somewhere more familiar. Anywhere more like home. Not even with her - Ava notwithstanding, of course; that little girl is his pride and joy.

When Santi doesn’t answer, his eyes softly glowing at you instead, you reach to fill the silence, lest you fall all the way into the pit of yearning. “Maybe us living together is a bad idea. This is day one and you’re already counselling me through a bad date.”

“What else are friends for?” he smiles meaningfully. Gratefully, again. You can tell what he’s likely thinking. He’s thinking about all the times you have counselled him through years of bad decisions. You’ve always been there for him.

“Right.” Friends, you remind yourself, as the hall-light pools around him like spun gold.

He reaches his sock-clothed foot out to gently bump yours. “Well, don’t take tonight too hard, okay? You’re a catch.”

Feeling bashful, you fold you arms and smile, looking down at the floor and away from the vision that is him.

You kick your foot out to boop his in return, with your sizeable, fluffy slipper. “Well. You’re pretty bangable too, you know. Someone will snap you right up, as soon as you’re ready.” 

Someone.

He turns his mouth downward, and tilts his head to the side. “Hmm,” he says as if considering your point. “Kinda looking for a little more than a bang though. I want someone who can be my best friend too. And... best friends? They’re kinda hard to come by.” 

Your heart hammers in your chest. His tone is casual, but his eyes are earnest, and your desire unravels like spools of red ribbons from your core.

The way he’s looking at you, from beneath his lashes, a smirk developing at the corners of his lips has you almost collapsed to the floor with yearning, and you think, if he doesn’t step away from your door soon, you will find it hard to resist the temptation to drag him inside - if he’s willing. You will be tempted to let these ribbons wind around him and coax him to you.

However, Santi simply lets his comment hang in the space between you as you fumble for a response, before turning away and shuffling down the hall and towards his room. 

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he calls, the pet name lighting you on fire. Beautiful.

“‘Night,” you call back to him, as casually as possible, before disappearing hurriedly inside your door and throwing yourself face down on to the bed with a silent scream.

Santi, for his part, reaches his respective room, and throws himself backwards on to the bed, having to fight the urge to run straight back to your room and kiss you senseless, if he’s honest. As he sighs out a huge breath and brings his hands up to his face, a light chuckle befalls him, and he has to consider what’s so funny. He lands on it quickly.

She - his ex-  must hate this living arrangement, he realises. She’d always thought the two of you had something. She’d insisted. Had gotten mad jealous over it too. In all honesty, Santi had never seen it. Or, not at the time, at least.

Perhaps the timing had never been right.

...Not until now, perhaps?

****

The atmosphere is different in the morning. More settled, thanks goodness.

You’re up earlier than Santi, and you get to work in the smaller guest bedroom, which you had kept off-limits to him the day prior. When you’re ready, you call down to him - he’s in the kitchen getting a head start on breakfast- insisting that he comes upstairs.

He pads up to find you in the hall, stood with a huge smile plastered on your face.

“I have a surprise for you,” you announce to him, and, a curious, happy look blooms over his sharp features.

“Okay,” he says, oblivious, but his interest piqued as you swing the door open and hustle him inside ahead of you, clinging to his t-shirt.

“It’s not finished yet,” you explain from behind him as he moves his head to look around the room, freshly painted and carpeted, and entirely different to how it looked before. “Ava still likes purple, right?” you say to his back, delight infusing your voice as he takes it all in. “Oh, and the birds-“ you point “-the boys and I each painted one. Benny’s is super wonky. I know it’s cheesy as all hell, but we wanted to remind you that you -and Ava- you’ll always have us as family.”

Santi doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s speechless with gratitude. It is all he can do to look around the room and take in all of the details. The little bed and princess canopy, the shelves lined with a few books to start her off.

This is something he didn’t dream he would be able to give Ava again for a long time. At least, not without some coordinates and a shovel.

He rasps one hand over his stubble, and you come up beside him, seeing that his eyes are full with tears, and his face pinched, as he fights to supress his emotions. He doesn’t cry often, and there’s not a lot that can reduce him to tears, so you can tell from his reaction how much this all means to him.

Your voice and your manner softening, you slot both of your hands around one of his and give him a squeeze there, before rubbing soothing circles into his back.

When you speak again, your voice is full, cracking with emotion. “I know this can’t be easy, Santi. And you need to know that you are home for Ava, wherever you are, whatever happens. But I thought this would help a little too?” He sneakily thumbs away a tear from the corner of his eye as your words overwhelm him. “I hope I didn’t take too much of a liberty,” you continue, looking around the room, and wandering deeper into it. “Thought I’d get it half-done and then you could choose the rest with Ava tomorrow?” 

You turn back to him, smiling over your shoulder before turning all the way, your expression bright and hopeful and everything he hasn’t been able to muster for himself.

Still choked-up, Santi takes a few steps forward to meet you in the centre of the room, his long lashes beaded with diamond-like tears. He takes your hands in his, one to each side, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice full of holes, and your own eyes overflow too as his hands squeeze yours, happy that he’s happy, and sad that he’s in pain too.

After a few moments like this, the yearning creeps in, and, lest it invade everything, you extricate yourself from him gently, padding towards the door and offering, in a soft voice, to give him a minute alone.

“Wait,” he says, his voice catching you as you reach the hallway, evidently yielding a great deal of power for such a breathy thing, and it halts you in your tracks. “Can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, your heart and your voice fluttering in tandem, as Santi moves towards you in the hall with purpose.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes search yours, brimming with emotion and softness and yearning too, his thumb and forefinger coming-up to clasp your chin tenderly in his grip.

“Is this a good idea?” you babble, as his lips hover moments from yours, and you are drawn to him with an achingly slow gravity. “You’re emotional, and you’re rushing and maybe you’re projecting or... maybe a million other things and I... really like you,” you say, raising your hands in between you, your palms pressed to his chest as your voice catches on hooks in your throat - keeping him at a slight distance before you can succumb to him. Immediately, he stops his advances, one hand winding gently around your waist. “Santi, I mean, I really like you,” you elaborate, you voice brittle and coming undone.

As much as you want this -have wanted this-you couldn’t face being one of his whims or mistakes or bad decisions. You couldn’t face being something he ended up leaving behind. He means too much to you for that.

Sensing your pain now, Santi smiles softly at you, not angry or offended in the slighest, but nodding in understanding. Tenderly, he trails the pad of his thumb along your jawline, and across your lower lip. He still finds apprehension in your eyes, and so, instead of the kiss he craves, he holds your head gently with one of his hands, and he dips forward to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed and a single tear spilling out of you as it lands.

Then, he pulls back, both of you wearing watery smiles, and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

“I get it,” he admits, nodding slowly. “On paper, this seems like another of my bad fucking ideas, doesn’t it? But...” he explains softly, eyes shining at you. “I feel as though I finally have things figured out. I feel like I know where I’m supposed to be.”

You nibble on your lower lip, a tentative, shy smile brewing. “Guess that was one powerful dress I wore last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a gentle chuckle. “It was, for sure, honey. Honestly though? This sports bra and overalls get-up is doing it for me too,” he admits, with a lopsided grin, nodding down at your DIY outfit. 

You examine his eyes in disbelief. You can’t believe that he’s looking at you like that. Like you’ve always wanted; and yet... you essentially knocked him back, your nerves and anxieties getting the better of you, despite his lips being moments from yours.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you gulp, eyes heavy with apology.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head towards the end of the hallway. “Let’s go make some more coffee. Also, I think you deserve some pancakes, sweetie.” He offers his hand to you and with a gentle song in your heart you take it, Santi leading you back downstairs into the kitchen.

You giggle, suddenly giddy as you shake out your remaining nerves and shock and doubts. As you settle.

By the time you watch Santi open-up the cupboards and search inside, turning back to you to ask if you want chocolate chip pancakes, a tiny note of delight in his eyes, he finds you looking at him with a gentle heat, brewing and eddying and clasping him in its tendrils, dragging him under with you. It causes him to double-take as he looks between you and the food-stuffs, until you have his whole attention. Until the world around him shrinks to you.

“Santi,” you suspire, tugging on his t-shirt to spin him towards you, your voice shaking like a leaf. “You took me by surprise up there. Any chance we can... C-Can we... try that again?”

A gulp trails down his throat, mirroring the heat sinking and settling into your core, even with the mere anticipation of his lips brushing against yours; of feeling his warmth where you have long been cold. You watch his tongue darting out to whet his lips, and it is as though you are already parted for him with the motion, your own lips already spread to accomodate the way he will delve into you, opening you up for him.

Then, Santi surges forward, hands holding you securely yet softly at your back and gathering you to his mouth, as if he is parched of you, all the yearning collapsing in on itself in one final surge as he flows into your arms. Yet, for all the force of your yearning meeting in the middle, and for the harsh initial crush of your lips, when the wave crashes, it is delicate and soft, his hand cupping your face and his tongue a delicate interlocuter, uttering promises against yours. Promises you are sure he will keep.

As the kiss deepens, you truly feel him, hard and sturdy everywhere around you except for this molten, supple tongue which courses into your being like a trail of fire. His kiss is like starlight tossed into a dark pit. You are lit but your hunger will never be sated; and instead you will kiss him and devour him again and again, opening yourself up to him to feed the dark.

Suddenly, with this kiss, his warmth is on you and filling you and one with you, unravelling, and you wonder what you ever did without it. How you ever felt at ease with this yearning within you; although, you suppose you didn’t. You suppose you longed for this divine quickening and stilling, this slickness and friction. You longed to feel him, and most of all, you longed for him to yearn for you in return.

And, finally, as the kiss wanes and you hold each other tightly, Santi considers that although he planned to stay in your house for a mere few months, he has a feeling his stay by your side will be far longer. And, on your side, as you hold him against you and this house feels like a haven in ways it never has before, you are content in the knolwedge that your travelling soldier is finally at ease.

Finally at home.

A home for one, but meant for more, finally fulfilling its purpose.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

[tsukiihime]

Heartbreak (Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader)

Hey everyone! This is my first BNHA piece, something I wrote when I was bored and thought what the hey, I’ll post it! Feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairings: Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of cyberbulling, swearing, breakup, angst, just kind of a sad piece overall?

Next Chapter

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When you started dating the Explosion Hero Dynamight, you knew that you were throwing yourself to the wolves. The media is cruel and the fans even crueller - if they deem you unworthy for their Hero then you’re in for a hell of a time - and not in a good way. But you loved Bakugo - you’ve loved him more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and for two years of your life you’ve been by his side as he  climbs through the Hero charts. 

But recently, the media has been sniffing a little too close to home. Someone has tipped the tabloids off to your existence and ravenous fans have been finding your social media day after day. Your selfies on Instagram are being bombarded with hateful comments on everything ranging from your weight to your skin color to your fashion sense, while your Twitter messages are flooded with paragraph after paragraph full of venom and vitriol. You can no longer take the headlines, the hate, the disgust being dished out at you day and day out. You beg your boyfriend to do something, anything to make the media leave you alone. Which brings you to tonight - in a heated argument with the Hero Dynamight.

“All I’m saying is that if you address the media, if you tell them that I’m your girlfriend, they might back off. I can’t do this anymore Katsuki, I can’t keep waking up and seeing this shit on my feed!” You’re so angry you’re shaking, and it’s pissing you off even more that Bakugo stares at you, unblinking and unfazed, arms crossed in indifference.

“You know I can’t do that. I do that, and my ratings plunge.” Your eyes widen in disbelief as soon as those words leave his mouth, you can’t believe he even said that. 

“Are you serious Katsuki? Is beating Deku and becoming the number one hero really worth more to you than us? Than me?” Tears threatened to spill over at any moment, your fists clenching until your nails left tiny red crescents in your skin. You stared at vermilion eyes refusing to back down, waiting with trembling lips for his answer.

“You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me. I don’t know why you need so much fuckin’ reassurance that you’re different from all those other damn extras.” That sentence sends you from angry to fuckin’ pissed in less than a second. 

You jab at his chest, practically screaming: “Excuse me? When we started dating, I was promised that you’d protect me from everything, including the media. Do you see the shit they say about me Katsuki? What they say about my body, my family, my upbringing? How they call me a slut and a whore because my Instagram has ‘Toshi on it and now I’ve been spotted with you? I can’t even visit my parents because I’m afraid they’ll follow me. I can’t go and see “Toshi because they’ll shit talk me even more! And you sit there and do nothing. Say nothing. All I want is for you to tell them the truth, that we are dating and that we are a couple.” 

Now, it’s Bakugo’s turn to bite back. “And I’m sayin’ my hands are tied. They know I’m with someone, and I lose  fans. Which means, I ain’t gonna beat that damn Deku at the rankings next month.”

“Fuck the rankings Bakugo! Can you get your head out of your ass for a second?! How in the world,” you turn to go to grab your phone, pulling up the latest headline about you on the tabloid’s website, “can you let them say this about me? Don’t you at least care that I’m being attacked on the daily?” Tears fall freely from your eyes now, and Bakugo flinches for a second, but only a second. You laugh in anger, turning away from him. “I already know the answer, Katsuki. You care more about the rankings than me. I’m in the way of your dream if you say I’m with you, so let me remove myself from the equation.” You grab a jacket, an umbrella and your phone, and put on your shoes. “It’s over Katsuki. I’m done. If you won’t say that we’re together, then we shouldn’t be together.” 

You turn to leave, and a part of you hopes that he’ll follow - that he’ll grab you and hold you tight and tell you that he loves you, loves you more than the stupid rankings and that he’ll stand by you no matter what the media says.

But he doesn’t. 

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You walk a couple of blocks to another apartment building, ring the doorbell and wait for the response to come from the other side. A deep voice responds, belonging to someone who had obviously been sleeping. “Who the hell is it?”

“‘Toshi, it’s me.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? It’s raining idiot, get in here.” The doors unlock and you make your way inside. You know this building like the back of your hand, it’s the home of your best friend and your second home. You make your way to his apartment and he’s waiting for you in the hallway - purple hair tousled and messy, body heavy with sleep and dark undereye circles accentuating violet eyes as he scratches the back of his neck. It’s a tic of his, one you know well - he’s nervous.

“A fight huh?” 

“Worse. I broke it off.” Shinsou immediately tenses at the mention of this, and if you weren’t so pissed and hurt by Bakugo you would’ve laughed. 

“Shit...I’m sorry. Come in, tell me all about it.” He steps aside and lets you into his apartment, closing the door as he prepares himself to listen to you complain until the sun rises. He agrees to help you get your things when you’re ready to return, and says you can crash at his place until you find somewhere else to stay.

You return two days later, punching in the code to the apartment you and Bakugo share - well, you supposed shared was the better word. It felt so foreign, being here after everything. Memories of the last two years flooded into your mind - lazy days where you spent all day with Katsuki on the couch doing nothing but watching horrible horror flicks and laughing the night away, those early mornings that had you waking up at five o’clock in the morning to cook pancakes while the sleepy blonde wraps his arms around your waist while teasing your culinary skills. Even the late nights when schoolwork kept you awake well into the twilight hours and your exhausted body dragged itself to the bed you and he shared, breathing in the caramel scent of the man you loved as your head hits the plush pillows and you drift off to sleep. But now, all of those memories have disappeared into the wind, replaced with the fight you and Bakugo had before you had stormed out of the house that night. He’s been texting you like mad, calling you like there is no tomorrow, but you ignore his calls. He never leaves a voicemail, so you don’t know what’s on his mind.  

As the beige door swung open, you breathed a sigh of relief that Katsuki wasn’t home. You had neither the heart nor the energy to see him after all that had happened and instead resolved yourself to get all of your things before his shift ended at his agency. You spent the next hour rounding up everything you owned - books, pictures, everything that you had room to take and that you knew you wouldn’t miss if you left it behind. When you had a breather you sent a quick text to Shinsou to let him know you were almost ready to go - and took a deep breath as you entered your bedroom. No, your former bedroom now. “That’s all it is now.” you remind yourself.

You start dumping all your clothes into trash bags and gather up pictures and toiletries that belong to you as you clean up the bedroom from one end to the other. As you grab a pile and place it on the bed, an article of clothing falls that you don’t recognize. You bend over and pick it up to inspect it closer. 

You know your clothes, all of them. But this lacy lingerie set that is discarded on the floor isn’t yours, hell, it isn’t even your size. Your throat feels like sandpaper and your nose crinkles as you drop the clothes as if burned by a flame. You can’t help but stare at it as a million things run through your mind at once: whose is it? How long has it been here? Was this before or after you and Katsuki broke up? Did he already move on? The last thought is something you know you shouldn’t dwell on, it isn’t your business what he does after you’re the one that ended the relationship. You know this and yet the tears come anyways, endless and stinging without end. Your legs give out and you fall to your knees clutching your heart as sobs fall from your lips, as your emotions bounce all over the place. The molten hot anger you felt at first is now transforming into deep sadness, all the bittersweet memories racing through your mind now replaced by images of Katsuki holding another woman, another lover just like he held you. You can’t stop as your brain formulates these what if situations - what if he was waiting for you to end it so he could be with her? You start to imagine him kissing another with the same passion he held for you. You see another in your place, eating the food that he insists on making to spoil you after a long night of homework, running their fingers through his hair as he falls asleep on their lap, and seeing another wrapped in his arms as they fall asleep together under the moonlit sky.

“I can’t stay here” you whisper to yourself, desperate to stop the tears that won’t end - desperate to feel anything but this pit of agony. You’ll take numbness over this endless heartbreak, this disappointment, this feeling of self-deprecation that tells you over and over that you weren’t good enough. “I-”

The door opens and you hear Shinsou’s voice behind you, calling your name and making his way through the hallway at the front of the apartment. “You didn’t answer my texts so I came up to check on you and-” The purple haired man freezes when he sees you, sitting on the floor with your head in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears spill from your eyes dripping onto your fingers. You can no longer hold back your sobs as everything comes to a head - your insecurities, the hateful comments left on your social media, Katsuki’s own dismissal of your feelings as you two fought that night two days ago. Shinsou immediately drops to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you close. “It’s okay...let it out.” You peer up at him from tear filled eyes, lunging at him to wrap your arms around his neck as you bury your face in his chest. 

“Hitoshi…” is all you’re able to say before another sob wracks your body, tears staining your cheeks and dampening Shinsou’s hoodie. You try desperately to explain why you’re crying, and why you’re so upset but you can’t find the words as your tongue feels heavy like a bunch of bricks. Indigo eyes drift to the underwear discarded behind you, anger seething in his veins as he puts two and two together. 

“Bakugo, you fucking tool.” He thinks to himself as he holds you, letting you cry out what you can’t tell him but he knows. He knows you better than anyone, just as you know him better than anyone. He remembers the vibrant little girl he met on the playground all those years ago, who spoke to him without a care even with his “villainous” quirk. He remembers your ecstatic scream as he calls you to let you know that he was able to get into the Hero Course at U.A, and he remembers you celebrating his acceptance at getting into a Hero Agency by getting blackout drunk and waking up with you in snuggled in his arms as you wear his favorite hoodie. He remembers being the one to introduce you to Bakugo at a Hero Ranking after party when you accompanied him as his plus one. He remembers how breathtaking you looked that night - an obsidian dress that hugged your figure closely, long legs accentuated by black stilettos and your plush lips painted in a ruby red hue. He remembers being the man of the hour, the hero Mindjack accompanied by a beauty on his arm, the envy of the venue. He remembers dancing with you, his most beloved childhood friend, his most precious person. He remembers watching you stride to the bar, smiling as you greet the bartender with glee and and he remembers watching you bump into Bakugo as you apologize quickly to the blonde before making your way back to him. He also remembers Bakugo following you to him, prompting him to introduce you to the man who would eventually become your boyfriend.

“If only you hadn’t bumped into him that night”, Shinsou thinks to himself, “Katsuki Bakugo, I’m going to give you a piece of my mind when I see you next.” How helpless he feels watching you cry as your heart shatters into a million pieces, how powerless he feels as he holds you tighter than he’s ever held anyone before. “C’mon, let’s get you home. I’ll take what I can and I’ll get the rest another day.” he smiles as he looks at you, giving you a small grin that he hopes makes you feel a bit better. “Don’t worry, I grabbed your Switch and your laptop, so the lazy girl hours can still happen” you punch him in the shoulder playfully as you wipe tears away on your sleeve, pouting as you roll your eyes at his lazy jokes before he continues, “and I’ll send Bakugo a text on what’s happening. You won’t have to deal with him. I promise.” It doesn’t escape his notice how you tense up when he says Bakugo, but the small smile you give at his joke makes him feel just a bit better. You stand up and press your lips to his forehead, tippy toeing to reach. “Thanks ‘Toshi. I really appreciate it, truly.” 

“Anything for my Animal Crossing buddy.” You cross your arms and give him a questioning look, eliciting a chuckle from the taller male. “I’m jus’ kiddin’. You know I’d do anything for you. And your Switch.” You laugh as you turn to grab your boxes and make your way to the front of the apartment, the lingerie that had shattered your world moments ago momentarily forgotten in the corner of you and Bakugo’s bedroom. “It’s only Bakugo’s now” you remind yourself as you walk out into the living room, “this place belongs to Bakugo only.” You take one last look at your home for the last ten months, and quickly turn on your heels to make your way to the elevator with your entire life packed into a few boxes. A small sense of regret lingers in you, but you quickly shove that aside to stop yourself from crying some more. Shinsou grabs the rest of the boxes left on the table, and places your key to the apartment on the counter next to a picture frame with the glass faced down. He then turns and follows you out the door to his car.

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The next few nights are the hardest - Shinsou’s apartment only has one bedroom, one bathroom and the living room which means you’re on the couch until you find your own place. You’ve known Shinsou since childhood and you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed but you’re so distraught from your discovery in Bakugo’s room that you want to be alone to cry it out if you need to - you already feel like a burden to Shinsou despite his protests against the idea. He’s not home tonight - on patrol around the city as you sit in the living room wrapped in a blanket and wearing his favorite hoodie. You flip through the channels and stumble across the Hero Rankings red carpet. It’s been ages since Hitoshi attended one, becoming more of an “underground hero” and avoiding the spotlight if possible. In fact, the only time he attended one was with you around the time you met Bakugo. You cringe at the thought of him, trying quickly to remove him from your mind. The rational part of your mind wants to change the channel, to watch those documentaries you love so much and wait until Shinsou gets back home but you don’t. Instead, you decide to remain on this channel, watching as heroes come and go on the red carpet with their dates and hear the host gush about each one’s accomplishments. This is torture, you know Bakugo will appear since he’s the number four Hero, you know he’ll be there and yet like a train wreck, you can’t look away. Maybe you’re curious as to what he’s up to, or maybe you want to see if he looks as miserable as you know you do. In any case, you wait with baited breath to see a pair of scarlet eyes and ash blonde hair to satiate your curiosity. A flash of green catches your attention and you see Izuku Midoriya appear on screen in front of you. Deku is the number three Hero and on his arm is his girlfriend Uraraka, another Hero ranked at number seven. You’ve met the both of them at parties you attend with Bakugo - they both received a lot of hate from “fans'' when they announced they were dating, but the love they exuded for each other made the media change their tune really fast. They truly adored one another and didn’t care if their ratings took a dive. You had wished Bakugo would do that for you, but you weren’t a Hero and you didn’t have an impressive quirk, so his agency decided that it would be better for his ratings if he kept you a secret and he agreed. At first, you didn’t mind but the comments on social media and the tabloids made you feel as if he wasn’t yours at all - instead all you felt was that he was ashamed of you. 

Then you see him. You grip the remote so hard it almost hurts, but you keep on looking anyway. There stands the number four Hero Katsuki Bakugo, wearing a red and black suit and looking as he always does - confident to the point of arrogance, a grumpy face that makes him unapproachable, arms crossed in annoyance. The cameras go off flash after flash, and the announcer goes over his stats - how many people he’s saved, his amount of solved cases, so on and so forth. You smile at his ranking, he’s gone from eleven to four in such a short amount of time, and you know he has his determination to thank for that. He works hard, that you can’t deny. 

Then you see her. You recognize her, from the tabloids and the makeup commercials. The Illusion Hero, Maboromicamie. She’s tall, beautiful, and has a gorgeous figure as well as a comfy place ranked as the number ten Hero. Her arm is linked with Bakugo’s, and he has an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close for the photoshoot. The announcer raises their voice in excitement, as a headline appears on your TV: “Dynamight and Maboromicamie an item? Seen together getting close at the awards ceremony!”

You shut off the TV and close your eyes. What were you expecting? Why did you do that? You can’t help the tears that escape, but they do. There you sit, alone in the apartment with the image of those two stuck in your head, burned into your memory. When Shinsou gets home, he says nothing and you’re grateful for it - you know he’s seen the ceremony and he knows you well enough to know that you’ve seen it too. Instead, he showers, lays down next to you, and holds you close as you cry quietly into his arms.

#bnha #bnha x fem!reader #shinsou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x you #hitoshi shinso x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha angst #mha x reader #my writing

[stellocchia]

Sooo, remember this: Platonic Soulmates AU? Yeah... I actually wrote something for Bee Duo based on it because I was feeling like it. 

It’s pretty short and kinda different from my usual writing style, but it was fun!

                                     Dissonant Melody

Tubbo and Ranboo have the perfect life. They have their big mansion, multiple houses, a son, more riches than anyone else on the server, and, most importantly, they have each other. They’re both seventeen and they already found their soulmate. Not only that, but they are both alive and their bond is as strong as can be with emotions flowing freely through it.

They’re lucky, they know they are.

They’re lucky, luckier than most, so they can never say otherwise.

They’re lucky, but why doesn’t it feel like it?

Why has the mansion stayed empty since it got built? Why are they still living so far apart, pretending that the distance will hide their distress from the other?

Tubbo lost a nuke a while ago. Tubbo lost his best friend not long before that. Tubbo lost so much and yet he hasn’t said a word. He doesn’t need to, of course, because he’s fine. He is perfectly fine and if his laboured breaths and tachycardia when he wakes up in the middle of the night were anything out of the ordinary he’s sure that Ranboo would tell him.

Ranboo hasn’t felt in control in a while. He’s not sure how often he actually sleeps compared to how often the… other him simply takes control. His experiments are supposed to be working. They are supposed to give him answers to give him control. They aren’t. But he can’t bother his family with his burden. He can’t look at his husband and child and admit to being nothing but a monster. He knows they would hate him, and they should hate him, really! He just can’t bring himself to be the one to spill his dirty little secret.

Tubbo and Ranboo are seventeen and they already figured out what soulmates aren’t supposed to be. Soulmates aren’t supposed to be the person you share your burdens with. They aren’t supposed to be the person you’re honest with. They aren’t who you go to, to open up about your past. They aren’t there to give you acceptance, they shouldn’t be. They aren’t there to confide in.

Tubbo and Ranboo also know what soulmates are supposed to be. They are the person who’s going to keep you company when you need some silly escapade to distract you from the real world. They are the person who knows you are lying when you say that you’re fine and will lie right back to you. They are the person you smile at and laugh with. They are the person that will let you be a kid around them and not expect something different, something more. They are the person who can perceive your feelings, but who’ll never call attention to them.

Maybe it isn’t perfect, but is it even meant to be?

Because the truth is that they’re young, both of them, and sometimes all they need is someone who’ll let them be.

So maybe it is perfect in their own imperfect way.

And maybe Tommy was talking out of his ass when he mentioned that they might need a “balance”, a suggestion from his therapist apparently.

Because Tubbo is happy. He may not have been home for a while, too busy with his newest project, but he knows that Michael will be there when he gets back and Ranboo is just one call away, ready to aid him when he feels like building another sandstone dick on the roof of the prison. And the outpost is not yet another way to run away from his problem. It’s not another manifestation of denial, it isn’t. And Tubbo sometimes really wishes that Tommy never learned all that fancy terminology, because now it doesn’t feel like they’re on the same level anymore. And Tubbo is fine with that, even if now he feels stupid when trying to talk to him. He didn’t need a friend to open up to anyway.

And it’s fine that Ranboo seems to get his best friend better than he does nowadays. And it’s fine that Tommy goes to him first when he needs something. It’s fine that they are close to each other and that they seem open with each other. It’s fine because it’s not what Tubbo needs and it’s not what he knows how to give. It’s fine, but sometimes Tubbo wishes that he could say it wasn’t.

Ranboo is happy as well of course. He is living with the men who destroyed the first home he’s ever known, but he moved past that. He doesn’t hold grudges really. It’s not useful, it only leads you to choose sides and he won’t, he can’t. If he does then it’ll be much harder to justify to himself why choosing his friends in the past was never worth it. Why fighting by their side for what was important to them was wrong. Why Tubbo’s resigned face, while Ranboo was letting his home blow up, shouldn’t haunt him.

But he was right, thankfully, so he is happy. And Dream is locked up where he can’t hurt anyone anymore, and there are only two deaths that disprove that. And Ranboo may not be in control of his actions or his mind, but he will be, once he figures out how to deal with his problems. And if he doesn’t well… he is sure that there must be a way to convince Sam to lock him up in Pandora’s Vault. He might not even have to convince him once the Warden finds out what type of monster he truly is. Before that though he’s gonna help Tubbo with his surveillance post.

This new project seems to have given a new rhythm to the both of them, a new purpose.

They aren’t working on it together per se. That would require a level of communication that neither of them is capable of. But they are still cooperating nonetheless.

This is the closest they’ve been in a while and neither of them really knows what to do with it. And that’s not right, they’re soulmates and they’ve been close for a long time now! So why is it that they feel more like strangers?

They see each other sometimes, on their way to and from the outpost and it’s like meeting and estranged family member more than their husband. It’s all polite greetings and embarrassed shuffling of their feet. One of them will ask the other what’s going on in their life, the answer is always kept vague.

Both of them can feel how much the other wants the conversation to end every time, but they still persevere because they shouldn’t want that.

It takes a few weeks for the awkwardness to shift into resentment.

It takes a few weeks before Ranboo comments on how distant and cold Tubbo has been. On how he feels like they aren’t close anymore. It takes mere seconds, after that, for Tubbo to yell about how Ranboo can’t speak when he’s still living with the man who murdered him.

Words they never meant to utter out loud fly freely then.

Suddenly it becomes apparent how little they knew of each other. Did they ever even know the other at all? Were any of the good moments real?

Is Tubbo really the uncaring, distant pushover that brought his country to ruin that Ranboo claims him to be?

Is Ranboo truly the self-absorbed, spineless traitor that Tubbo thinks he is?

They’re both panting by the end. Exhaustedly looking at the ground. 

That was what they needed supposedly, that’s what everyone said. A “balance” between sharing their burdens and granting the other the lightheartedness of youth. But it was too little too late I’m afraid.

There was nothing there anymore. That bond that seemed so perfect and strong came undone in less then an hour. Bitterness was left where that tentative sense of belonging used to be.

After all they were strangers now, it was well past the time for sharing.

#dream smp au #platonic soulmates au #tubbo #ranboo #bee duo #my writing/fanfic thingy? #welp #so maybe I like this trope specifically because of how angsty you can make it... #I swear there are some soulmate pairings in my au that aren't utterly depressing! #they're just not the ones I write about

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt.10)

WOW we did it folks. 10 parts to an essay that we're like. a quarter of the way done with. That's pretty great! More or less, by the time you finish reading this post, you'll have read 35k words worth of analysis and I'll have spent countless hours writing it. What amazing dedication we have to this manga! We should get an anime reboot as a reward!

Anyway, let's go crazy stupid trying to wrap up this arc, where we can see the extent of Natsume's selflessness. As we approach the end, something will happen to make Natsume's plans to distance himself from Mikan very difficult. Let us begin!

Also I've been forgetting to put trigger warnings up for these but I put them on the first few so hopefully you know they're all like that. Child abuse is a huge topic we'll cover throughout, as well as all the consequences that come with it, so be wary.

Chapter Forty-One

Medusa--Mihara-san--is amused to see that the frightening, powerful, and awe-inspiring “Black Cat”, who demonstrates a trained command of his alice despite wearing an alice-restraining mask on missions, is actually just a little kid.

Natsume doesn’t care about being impressive; he cuts to the chase, asking where Mikan is. Medusa makes his comments, but Natsume stays on his point: his new mission is to save Mikan, after all. Though keeping Mikan and Ruka safe had been his personal mission from the get-go. But just as Natsume isn’t interested in anything Medusa has to say if it isn’t about Mikan, Medusa isn’t interested in any topic that is about Mikan. So the small talk ends and Shiki is commanded to test the kids’ abilities.

Natsume cares about one thing right now and it isn't his DA alias.

They are in the midst of some kind of battle or standoff when Mikan reappears, safe. She calls out to them, excited to see them again. Ruka and Tsubasa are happy to see her safe as well, so they call out too. Natsume is not as thrilled. He’s good at staying on mission and keeping his attention on the dangers around him, like Shiki and Medusa, as well as the countless other Z members, all with mystery alices.

Mikan suddenly appearing and making herself known is dangerous, and she’s immediately under attack, unwittingly. He runs to protect her, using his alice as a barrier between them and the man who just tried to hurt her, but when he turns back to look at Mikan, he’s livid.

The art in this scene is so gorgeous, I could stare it forever. Look at how silky Natsume's hair is. Pretty.

Tsubasa and Ruka have never been on a mission like this. They were just eager to see Mikan unharmed. She was also just excited to see her friends again after being separated. But Natsume knows better. On a mission, you have to stay vigilant and always careful, and Mikan was careless. He yells at her, scolding her. But even through his emotions, he stays vigilant, protecting her even more when the enemy tries to take advantage of the distraction.

This is what he came for, not just to be the brains and keep them on track throughout the journey, but also to protect them, because that’s what he always does, what his priority always is. He will use his alice to ward off enemy attacks, and use his body as a shield, even if he winds up exhausted and bleeding and hurt. And he is.

But he still tells Mikan to stay behind him, to stay safe, so he can properly protect her this time, because he couldn’t do it before.

He doesn’t expect Mikan to get up and tell him that he doesn’t have to worry. She doesn’t want or need him to protect her; instead she wants to help him. She tells him, for once, that he doesn’t have to be the only one hurt anymore. He’s understandably surprised to hear this, because it means that someone other than Ruka has been paying attention. She understands that he’s been through the wringer, and she doesn’t want to just sit back and benefit from his effort without giving anything back. But more than just saying she’ll take on the brunt of things for him, she wants to help. She wants to be his strength, not a burden on him.

She has been noticing him, even the things he doesn't want her to notice.

This shocks him enough that it actually distracts him from his vigilance, and suddenly it appears that Ruka is in danger. He leaves her side just long enough for her to be captured by Shiki instead, and immediately teleported to Medusa’s side. They needed to get Mikan out of the way, after all, so that Medusa could use his alice, which he immediately uses to petrify Tsubasa’s leg.

Chapter Forty-Two

Right off the bat, we’re shown just how much the stakes have risen. Medusa’s alice is deadly, not just dangerous, and he’s already managed to hit Tsubasa with it. His next command is to have Yuka steal the kids’ alices, and to start with Natsume. It would make things easier on him, anyway, Medusa says, obviously privy to the idea that a child like Natsume wouldn’t want to be a child soldier at all, unlike Reo who mused that maybe Natsume would be more content with just a change of employer.

But Yuka makes it clear that her alice isn’t strong enough to steal all of the alices at once, trying to spare the kids from losing their abilities. So Medusa then goes to a Plan B, convincing the kids that his alice will only be temporarily affecting them until they agree to work for Z. After all, Natsume can’t really use his alice when Medusa has Mikan in his clutches. He’s been in this situation before, practically living in it, having the lives and happiness of his loved ones held over his head so that he will be pliant. Medusa comments that he loves torturing people like him, and he must not be the only one, since Natsume’s been tortured in this way for years now.

Ruka is hit in the shoulder while trying to shield Tsubasa from another attack from Medusa, and the shoulder region is particularly life-threatening, as it’s close to the heart and he might die from the loss of blood flow soon. Of course, this sets Natsume into berserk mode, but before he can use his alice, he coughs violently. This gives Medusa an opportunity to strike Natsume in his dominant arm, his left one.

He tries to use his alice, despite being at a new disadvantage, and still angry from what’s happening to Ruka. So his leg gets hit too.

Medusa gets temporarily incapacitated by Mikan’s nullification, so he sends Yuka to steal Natsume’s alice, which should be a walk in the park because he’s lost control of his arm and leg, so he can’t run away.

It’s here that Natsume reveals to the reader the secret he’s been keeping for the past few days, the one that we must now keep as well, that Mikan is Yuka’s daughter.

This is another one of those situations, where the stars align in all the wrong ways. Something you've always wanted is within grasp, but there's too many reasons not to take it.

Natsume stands there, unable to move, and ponders his situation as Mikan desperately screams for him to run away.

He wonders if he was waiting for this exact moment, if that’s the reason he came along at all, so that he could meet Yuka and have her steal his alice away.

Earlier, Natsume left a conversation about losing alices because it was too painful. He doesn’t feel the same way about his that the rest of them do. It’s not some fond part of him that he can’t stand to lose. He hates it. It’s been a hindrance since the day he was born. People of all sorts of organizations, including the government operated Academy and terrorist organizations like Z, have coveted his power. It’s put his loved ones in danger. It’s made his life a living hell. He’s been robbed of a fun childhood, of smiles and friendship, of peace. It’s stolen opportunity from him, so he can’t even feel free to pursue a crush, or make bonds freely, or let himself laugh. It stole his future from him, and he dies a little bit more every day. He won’t live long enough to go on a date, graduate, get married, get a normal job, have kids, grow old. He might not even make it to middle school, and he knows it. He lives his whole life in eternal emotional, physical, and mental agony. He’s always under the gun, always careful, always selfless, always defensive.

Why would anyone want that?

And this is his chance to lose it all. Things could be easier, better, safer. He could lose it and finally exhale. He could go back home to his dad. He could be an actual kid for once. Yuka could steal his alice and all of his responsibilities and the deadweight he’s been carrying on his back for his whole life could be gone.

Of course he almost lets her steal it.

But Mikan has been screaming in anguish for him to run away, and he remembers what she said when she saved him during the Reo Arc: that it was too late to give up, and that they should return to the academy together, because a bright future must be waiting for them.

And because of that, Natsume makes his first move to escape Yuka’s alice.

Does Natsume really want a future if his friends and loved ones would still be in danger? Would it be worth it if he was safe, if it came at the price of their safety? If Natsume doesn’t use his alice to keep them safe and protected, then who will? Who can?

Natsume smacking Yuka’s hand away isn’t selfish. It’s not him realizing he wants to keep his alice, that maybe deep down, he might actually love it. It’s not dear to him in any way. It’s still the thing that wears his body down and forces him to cough up blood. No, this act is selfless, yet again, because his own happiness and even his life come dead last to him. He has to keep them all safe after all.

Yuka snatches his wrist anyway, ready to steal his alice away, until she realizes she can’t. Mikan is using her alice from all the way across the room to protect Natsume.

So basically, the idea of Natsume leaving the academy causes this kind of reaction in Mikan, something Natsume has no choice but to see for what it is: fondness.

He looks at her with surprise, because this is an act of affection. Mikan has just used her alice to keep him with her. His life isn’t in danger, but she wants him to stick around. Now more than ever, Natsume can see proof that she cares about him, even despite all the bullying he’s done, despite all the mean words he’s thrown her way, even after he told her cruelly that he hates every single thing about her. Up until now, Natsume had no reason to believe she was doing anything but tolerating him, and though that was the outcome he was working for, deep down he does want the girl he likes to have some fondness for him too. This is the first time Natsume can really see that he means something to her too, as more than just a classmate or a partner. He is someone she doesn't want to part with.

And Mikan has fulfilled her wish, to be Natsume’s strength, because now Natsume is able to yell at her to duck and blow up the wall behind her.

Usually such huge explosions are the result of him at his angriest, using his ability to punish the people who hurt his loved ones. He’s probably also done similar things on missions, maybe even when he’s completely calm. But this time Natsume is weaker than ever, his dominant left arm completely out of commission, unable to move, under duress. He finds the strength to cause that explosion because of Mikan, because she wants him around.

While everyone is distracted, Natsume tells Yuka to go help Mikan, hinting that he knows her secret.

So Yuka stabs Mihara-san and has the petrified kids lick his blood off the blade. It’s confusing to the other kids why she would do this, but Natsume knows exactly why.

It would be interesting to see more interaction between Yuka and Natsume. Surely Yuka knows that Natsume is Kaoru’s son? It would be interesting to see if she noticed that his name matches Mikan’s. What does she think of him? What might their dynamic be like? I will always mourn that we’ll never find out.

Chapter Forty-Three

This chapter is the one that should officially designate this manga into the “tragedy” category. Yes, there’s been some heavy and deep stuff so far, most having to do with Natsume and the heavy abuse he deals with, but even with all that it’s managed to be mainly a cheerful and upbeat story. This chapter makes it clear that horrible and heart-wrenching things can and will happen, that we can’t count on a happy ending every time.

The kids are close to escape. They’re about to head through a warp zone back to school, and it’s urgent they move fast because the hide-out they’re in is currently imploding. Unfortunately, Mikan has dropped the antidote to the bullet that hit Hotaru, so she refuses to leave until she’s retrieved it from under a pile of rubble.

Pengy finally has a chance to prove itself, wriggling under and saving the antidote for Hotaru. It has helped Mikan, and because that’s the best thing someone can do, Natsume is grateful.

Natsume's smile (even a small one like this) has incredible powers, like giving robots a feeling of self-worth, making his classmates fall in love with him, and making me think he is a good boy. It would be irresponsible to overuse it.

Just like when Tsubasa showed his worth back at the high school division when he used his alice to help Mikan, Natsume has a new respect for Pengy, who was able to do something amazing to help the group, and Mikan especially. So he gives Pengy a slight smile. It’s really subtle and nothing outstanding on anybody else, but it’s a rare thing to get from Natsume, even for those whom he loves. “I guess you can be a little useful,” he says. This is the best sign of appreciation someone can get from him, and Pengy glows for a moment (ahh… the power of Natsume’s smile), until things fall apart.

The floor gives way under Mikan’s feet. They’re able to pull Mikan up, but Pengy is still too far to reach. Despite Mikan’s desperation, Pengy understands that they’re wasting time trying to reach it. Finally, after Pengy has proven its use to Natsume, it refuses to be a hindrance again, and sacrifices itself so that everyone can safely return the antidote to Hotaru.

They’re all through the tunnel, hit with the knowledge that Pengy is gone. They all react somewhat differently, but Natsume feels guilt.

Pengy's smile has evil powers because it makes me cry.

Natsume had considered Pengy a robot, something unfeeling and mechanical, just a useless thing Hotaru made once. It was something that could be discarded, and after it had proven to be troublesome, he’d even advocated that it should be discarded. He’d considered it useless all along, but when it really counted, Pengy was able to save Mikan and the antidote. It proved not only that it could be useful, but that it wasn’t just another mechanical robot. When Natsume smiled at it, it smiled back. And in its final act of sacrifice, it acted out of love for both Hotaru and Mikan, and Natsume feels sorry for what he’d said about it.

Natsume has a habit for establishing a bad impression of someone, and then having that person work hard to prove themselves to him. Pengy is one example, but he’s like this with Tsubasa, Mikan, and all sorts of people at first. People (and robots) that he despises until they show him what they’re really made of, winning his respect and sometimes even affection. It makes sense he would be so distrustful, seeing the life he has to live. Trusting the wrong person can get you hurt sometimes, and can lead to disaster. And having something useless like Pengy can cause a mission to fail. But Natsume is sometimes wrong about his first impression of a person, and the same qualities that could lead him to believe something is useless or annoying can end up being strengths that he respects.

Chapter Forty-Five

Yes, I skipped 44 because that’s more noteworthy as a Mikan chapter. Natsume doesn’t do anything I found particularly intriguing and I didn’t want to make anything up or repeat myself. In fact, for the rest of this arc, there’s very little left for me to say, so I apologize if this is a short analysis to conclude with.

The first thing we’ll address is the ESP and Persona discussing the insubordination that has just occurred. Yes, an injured student has safely recovered, and a Z hideout has been destroyed, but it wasn’t their plan for things to happen that way. Narumi needs a warning, for one. Natsume, according to Persona, needs simply to be punished back into obedience. From the way Persona talks about him, we can see how little he thinks of Natsume, how easy he can be to manipulate and control, which is all he is good for anyway. To them, Natsume is nothing more than a pawn in their game. Sure, he’s a useful pawn, the Black Cat that strikes fear into the hearts of the school’s enemies and successfully completes his missions even with a punishment mask on, but he’s still just a pawn. Nothing more.

While watching Mikan and Hotaru’s reunion, Tsubasa teases Natsume about joining the group hug. Natsume ignores him, and makes to walk away, but stops just long enough to toss his healing alice necklace to him. Tsubasa can borrow it to make up for having Subaru put Natsume’s injuries first. He makes it clear that he doesn’t want anybody looking after him, and that might seem like a snub, but this is kindness too. Natsume calls Tsubasa by his name, though he’ll do his best to avoid ever saying it again, and lends him a source of comfort and healing to pay back Tsubasa’s compassion. This is a growing moment, because Natsume has opened himself up to the idea that he could care about more people, even if it means more to lose.

Saying people's names is another rare magic from Natsume, I guess.

Natsume has learned things on this mission too, just like Mikan has. He’s a bit more open-minded now. He judged both Tsubasa and Pengy, and ended up changing his mind about them both, even if only by a little. He’s also discovered that Mikan has affection for him too, and it will completely undo all the effort he’s so far tried to make in distancing himself. It’s one thing to stay away from the girl you like when she hardly stands you. It’s another thing when she enjoys your company, and your feelings are turning into love. His feelings have intensified, or maybe they were always so intense but are just newly solidified, as he’s not hiding from them as much anymore.

He won’t be able to distance himself from her anymore, so he’ll completely stop trying.

Conclusion

Natsume has realized that Mikan holds a degree of fondness for him too, and because he is now very deeply in love with her, he will not be able to stay away like he'd resolved to before. Tomorrow we will begin our essay with Natsume's birthday, a very exciting way to start looking at his new approach to his relationship with Mikan.

The last essay (pt. 9) in particular inspired people to tell me that they were learning new things about Natsume, and as a result even loving him more, and that makes me so happy! Natsume is one of my favorite characters ever, and I want people to love him as much as I do! I love when people leave comments or questions! Really, I'm just so happy and over the moon that people are reading and enjoying, because again--this is a LOT of words. It's a long essay, and it means so much not just that people want to read about Natsume and his feelings for Mikan, but that they want to hear what I have to say about it! Thank you so much for supporting me! Isn't it exciting that we're about a quarter through? <3

I can’t put a song in the tags cuz I have too many tags. So. Church by Fall Out Boy.

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#gakuen alice #alice academy #hyuuga natsume #natsume hyuuga #natsumikan #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #my meta #ga #mine #ga meta #ga meta: nm #ga meta: manga #ga meta: manga nm #let's talk about natsumikan #let's talk about natsumikan: natsume #yes natsume is a leftie and i will bring it up a thousand times #hes left handed. as if he wasnt oppressed enough #might make an appreciation post for natsume being left handed #also his cute little smile! he is BAbEY #hes my son i will protECT him #also! when it comes to picking the title pictures.... its so hard #i try to pick pictures from the era #particularly a chapter cover from the arc that i like #sometimes im not lucky and theres not a grand selection #i also have to save some pics for mikans essay. so. limited options #i really am trying to do my best here and include good pics! #i was gonna pick a lil snippet from the aeiou book but i dont have any good quality images of that book so the pic i got was grainy #i chose this instead. closer to the era i think #could be better. im sorry

[mersuperwholocked-lowlife]

Not Blood But Family

Word Count: 1,922

Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (brief), Sam Winchester (mentioned), OC Character, Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, some slight fluff

A/N: me: hey i should post at least once a week   also me: hey guys i’m back from a random ass hiatus

A/N 2: enjoy the dog poop

A/N 3: lisa’s daughter btw

Masterlist

You shot your eyes around the darkened room, squinting as you tried to make out any figure, seeing if there was anyone who was being held captive with you. Unfortunately for you, you were all alone. You could barely make out the bruises on your wrists, the rope burns caused by being tied up for days. 

“Hey!” you yelled.

“Hey! I know you can hear me! What the hell do you want from me?!” you screamed as loud as you could, more annoyed than scared.  

Ever since you found both your mother and younger brother dead, you’d given up any emotion you could show, mainly numb inside.  

“Ugh,” you groaned softly, laying your head back against the wall as you leaned against it, closing your eyes for a moment. 

Everyone always warned you, don’t hitchhike, and now you’ve learned your lesson.

---

“Did you just take a picture of me?” you squinted your eyes, sitting chained up to a chair as you saw a bright light flash.

“Freak,” you scoffed.

He ignored your comments, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling it up as you grunted, clenching your jaw.

 He just chuckled, pushing you back. You could feel the blood trickling from your forehead as you breathed heavily.

“If you’re trying to sell me, no one’s gonna buy me. I’m a pain in the ass,” you struggled against your chains.

You were met with a blank expression from the man, having not said a single word to you. 

“If you’re planning on killing me, at least give me the decency of some good conversation,” you laid back in your chair.

You heard his phone ring as he turned his back to you, picking it up.

“Yes, sir. I have (Y/N) with me. I’ve sent a picture to you to send to Dean Winchester,” you poked your head up, hearing an unfamiliar name before be hung up.

“Who’s Dean Winchester,” you asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough... or not,” he shrugged.

You could feel a slight panic in your chest as you stiffened, seeing him walk towards you while clutching a knife.

“Keep that away from me,” you tried and tried to pull your chains, trying to stay away as he grabbed you, pressing the knife against your shoulder.

“Let's have some fun.”

---

“Hey. Hey!” you groaned as you squinted your eyes, hearing someone calling your name in a distance.

“Wake up, (Y/N), please,” you felt him out a hand on your shoulder, cutting open the ropes tying you down.

“Hmm, who are you?” you winced softly, your body ached from all the miniature cuts all over it.

“I’m… I’m here to help,” Dean said. He debated whether or not to tell who he was, pushing your arm around his shoulder.

“How do you know who I am?” you groaned. You blinked your eyes, fading in and out of consciousness.

“Just stay quiet. Come on,” you breathed heavily as you took a step forward, falling onto him completely.

“(Y/N)?!”

---

“Holy shit!” you groaned, sitting up in the bed as you looked around cautiously.

“(Y/N),” you tensed slightly as Dean wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You felt a sense of relief washing over you, feeling a safety that you haven't felt in a long time as you exhaled softly.

“W-Wait, who are you?” you asked.

He stood up, sitting in front of you at the side of your bed.

“You don't remember me, but I knew your mom, a-and your brother,” your face dropped, frowning as you scooted a little away from him.

“Who are you,” you asked again.

“My name is Dean Winchester,” he said.

You thought back for a minute, trying to think where you heard that name before.

You remembered, hearing the man saying his name.

“That… guy mentioned you,” you started.

“Well, I have some bad blood with his boss and they were trying to use you to get to me,” he explained.

You stayed quiet for a moment, before talking again.

“Why me? I don’t even know you,” you shook your head.

His face dropped slightly, looking at you as you ran your fingers through your hair, slightly nervous.

“My friend is coming, everything will be cleared up, okay?” Dean asked.

You nodded, wrapped your arms around your legs as you exhaled sharply, laying your head on your lap.

You heard the noise of something fluttering, as you frowned, looking up. You jumped back, seeing a man appear in front of you.

You could feel your heart racing as the man reached two fingers on your forehead, his eyes glowing blue.

You felt a sense of warmth over you, feeling warmth in your body as it healed. You gasped softly, seeing visions with Dean inside your head. Everything from the years that past came back to you as you pulled away from Castiel, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Dean,” you remembered.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he took a step forward, walking to you.

You shook your head, stepping backward. He turned his head to the side, slightly in shock.

“You’re Castiel,” you said.

“So then where’s Sam,” you asked softly.

“Sam’s at this place we live at. This bunker,” Dean replied.

You continued to stand there quietly, running your fingers through your hair as you turned your head away from Dean.

“I heard that… Lisa’s gone,” you tensed as your mom’s name fell from his mouth.

“Yeah, so is Ben,” you kept your emotions of both anger and grief hidden.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry-” he started.

“Shut up,” you glared at him.

“(Y/N), I-” he tried to speak again, only for you to cut him off once more.

“I said shut up, Dean. Thanks for the help, I’ll be on my way,” you began heading for the door as Dean stopped you.

“Why are you acting like this?” he asked.

“Like what?” you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you acting so cold? So different?”  he crossed his arms.

“Don’t start with me, Dean,” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

Dean motioned to Castiel, telling him to leave as he nodded.

“What happened?” he asked.

“What happened? My family is dead, Dean,” you spat.

“I know, I-I’m sorry-” 

“Saying sorry won't bring them back. It was your choice to leave, you had to know that this was a possibility,” you crossed your arms as you glared at Dean.

“The only reason I left was because I wanted to keep the three of you safe. I couldn't have done that if you guys were with me,” he tried to explain while you kept ignoring his words.

“You don't owe me an explanation. You’re not my dad you don't owe me anything,” you could see the look in his eyes fade away.

“I know I’m not your real dad, but that doesn't mean we're not family,” he started.

“You're just a guy that lived with us for a year, who had a past,” you knew you were hurting him, and hurting yourself while at it. 

You couldn't let your guard down and you knew it. Even if Dean was there for you when you needed someone the most, when you had boy problems, school problems, things somehow your mom didn't understand, he always helped you. With all the late nights you spent crying, trying to convince yourself that you don’t need help, he was always there by your side. 

Not that you would ever admit that. Dean was the only person your mom dated who cared about you and Ben.

“You know that it’s deeper than that, (Y/N). I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I erased your memory of me. I was just trying to keep you safe,” he said.

“Stop apologizing,” you shook your head.

“Will you come back with me?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“W-What?” you were slightly taken aback by his question, not sure why you were so surprised.

“We have a home now. A sort of home, it’s a bunker. But we live there, and there's more than enough room for you to live with us,” he explained.

“Are you… even after everything I just said?” you frowned.

“Yes. You're still 17, you still, technically need a legal guardian. I know that you’re not happy with me, but I’m gonna fix that. Come live with us,” he said.

“What if I say no?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I know you’re not going to. You hate being alone,” he replied.

“I’ve been alone for a year, I can-”

“I’m sorry you had to be alone for so long. Please, come with me,” he begged again.

You could feel your eyes watering slightly as you frowned, biting your lip nervously.

“Dean, please stop,” you wiped your face with your hands, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath.

“Stop what?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“Why do you care about me?” you whispered softly.

“What do you mean?” he crossed his arms, taking a step closer to you.

You looked up at him, your eyes red and watery as his face dropped.

“I’m not… I’m not your kid o-or anything, why do you always try to take care of me?” you closed your eyes, feeling a tear escape down your cheek.

“(Y/N), listen to me,” he put his hand on your cheek, wiping your tear away. 

“I know I’m not blood, kid, but I’m still your dad, you’re still my kid. Nothing’s gonna change that, no matter what. I love you so much, kid. I’m still your family and you’re still mine. I would never leave you, I-I would never hurt you,” he continued to stroke your cheek, while you kept your tears at bay.  

“My real dad didn’t want me,” you whispered.

“That’s cuz he’s an idiot. Come here,” he wrapped his arm around you tightly as you shut your eyes, letting your tears fall freely while you let out a shaky cry, holding onto him tightly.

He kissed your forehead softly, then rested his chin on the top of your head. 

“I got you, you’re safe now,” he said softly.

“You’re okay now.”

---

You shot up in your bed, looking around cautiously as your breathing was labored. You looked around, before remembering that you were at the bunker as you let out a breath of relief. 

Maybe I should tell Dean

No stop bothering him and just try to sleep

Nightmares weren’t uncommon for you, whether it was about Lisa and Ben, or about any event that happened to you in the past year. You were alone, nothing was ever easy, and most people were the absolute worst. 

You found yourself trying to stop your hands from shaking as you rested your head on your lap, hearing the door open as you looked up.

“Dean?” you asked. 

“What are you doing up? I thought you went to sleep hours ago,” he sat down next to you on the bed. 

“Well, I did, it’s just…” your voice drifted off, trying to figure out how to explain your nightmares without Dean having pity on you. He already gave you a home, a place to feel safe.

“Your nightmares?” he asked.

“How did you know?” you frowned.

“Because it’s normal. Come on, I’m staying with you tonight,” he laid down in the bed, wrapping his arm around you in a protective manner. 

You yawned softly, snuggling up into Dean’s side as you closed your eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. 

“Thank you, Dad.”

Dean smiled softly, kissing your forehead.

“Anything for you, kiddo.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #supernatural family #SPN #spn fic #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfiction #spn angst #dean #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x platonic!reader #daughter winchester #winchester daughter #winchester!daughter #dean x daughter!reader

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 5]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, use of toys(sybian), squirting, the long awaited chapter 5 😳💕 do they finally meet?!?!?!?! hehehehehehe also sorry for not being able to post this yesterday, had a busy week and when I tell ya I woke up at 3pm today 😗 💕💕💕💕 as always, thank you so much for your continued interest!! I'm already writing ch 6 and im SOOOO EXCITEDDDD hHEHEHEHEEHEH 💕💕💕💕💕 HAVE A GREAT REST OF YOUR WEEKENDS! 🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ? 

“You guys! I--you have to see this!”

You can’t wipe the smile off of your face when you shimmy to the side, excitedly showing off the new gift that Seungcheol had sent in the mail.

sleepy_wonu: holy hell

universe_WZ: that mustve costed hella

alphagyu97: nothin like feelin extra poor amirite lads

angelhan: it was only a matter of time before dom.cheol was untouchable lol 

You giggle slightly as you adjust the camera so that you and your new sybian are in frame. “Hey~ Don’t say that!! Y’know it’s not the amount of money you spend on me… I’m glad you guys are always here with me~” The sound of coins clinking goes off in the back as you read a few more comments.

dom.cheol: well princess, don’t u wanna show them how you use your new toy? ;)

tangerine_kwan: fuck i bet it can get u to cum so fuckin fast

hoshi_tiger_xx: yessss

dom.cheol has donated $100

hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $50

“Hmm~ How many times do you think I can cum with this? Oh! Why don’t we do this~” You pause, sliding your wet panties down your legs before tossing the material to the side. You grin, swinging a leg over the toy until you’re straddling it. “Rapid fire question! Whoever guesses the right amount of orgasms I can take before I call quits… Wins a special unreleased photoset of me! Go!”

dom.cheol: 5

universe_WZ: 4

sleepy_wonu: 6

angelhan: 3 artist8hao: 5

alphagyu97: everyone took all the good numbers already!!! 7!!!!!

gentleman_josh95: DMAN IT 3

tangerine_kwan: 8, fuck

kitty_junjun: ugh i was gonna say 4!!!!

xcaliburDK: i was gonna say 5!!!!

therealchan99: 2? thats so low tho….

chwenon: as if anyone is gonna say 1, lmao. Uh 6…. If sleepy_wonu happens to disappear

hoshi_tiger_xx: im gonna say 10, but… seems… risky

Reaching for the remote, you situate yourself until the raised part of the toy sits directly on your clit. A shiver runs up your spine at the feeling; already excited for what’s in store. “Um, to be fair I haven’t tried it myself yet so I’m not sure either... Hehe, but I guess we’ll find out together, huh?”

Gulping, you set the sybian to its lowest setting, the air getting knocked out of your lungs immediately as your body lurches forward. “H--holy shit!” The vibrations are already harsh on the lowest setting; your fingers gripping the remote tightly as you try to adjust to the feeling. “O--oh my g-god, I--”

dom.cheol: aww can ur cute lil clit take it?

xcaliburDK: maybe one of the lower numbers was right lol…

The moans spill freely from your lips, garbled noises getting lost in the mix when you start to grind against the vibration. “Fuck, it--it feels suh--so good, hah, already feel like ‘m gonna cum…” You whine, already getting lost in the pleasure. For a second, you’re tempted to raise the vibration intensity but you hold back, letting your wetness coat the toy as you continue to grind down onto it. The sound of donations and comments sound fuzzy to your ears; only the sound of the sybian buzzing reminding you that the camera was still even on.

“Ngh, g-god, I’m--I’m gonna cum!”

tangerine_kwan has donated $75

xcaliburDK has donated $50

dom.cheol has donated $200

dom.cheol: cmon, lets see that pretty pussy cum

Your legs shake as you cum, only a squeak coming out of your mouth as you lurch forward atop the toy. The grip you have on the remote loosens while simultaneously trying to turn it off in the midst of your orgasm.

dom.cheol: awww cumming so hard on the first setting? Cute

therealchan99: lol baby is in trouble now

angelhan: maybe 3 was right lmao

“I--a-ah, fu--fuck!” You cry, shaky fingers finally managing to shut the toy off. Your body immediately untenses; chest heaving with how sensitive you already were and it had only been your first orgasm and the lowest setting of the toy. “O-oh my g-god, I--I didn’t know i-it was that s-strong…” You mumble, body buzzing with the remnants of your orgasm.

sleepy_wonu: well mr dom.cheol did pay top dollar

gentleman_josh95: imagine if u had this for yesterdays show lol

“Oh god, if--if I had this for yesterday’s show, I would’ve been too boneless to do today’s show!” You laugh airily, slowly grinding against the toy already. “It feels really nice though… I’m already super curious about how strong the other settings are…” Trailing off, you reach for the remote again, throat dry as you fiddle with the knob.

kitty_junjun: what if u set it to the max setting

chwenon: idk if her cute lil body could take it

dom.cheol: its okay baby, take ur time. I wanna see how sensitive that pussy of yours can get

“But ‘m already so sensitive~ I dunno how much more I can take~” You tease, biting your lip when all the comments flooding the chat are words of encouragement.

You knew when you started camming that it’d be no easy job. Building up your fanbase and subscriber count had taken you months upon months to even get within the thousands and camming was physically exhausting. Some days your viewer counts were low and some days they were above average and sometimes you didn’t make as much in one show than another.

tangerine_kwan: was therealchan99 right with 2 then? Heh

therealchan99: finally FINALLY ITS MY TIME TO SHINE

Giggling, you slowly start turning the knob; body twitching when the vibrations kick in at full force.

Seungcheol watches in amazement at the way your body jerks atop the machine.

He can see the way your legs twitch unbearably when you cum for the third time; your brows furrowed at the intensity of the vibrations and your taut body when you can barely manage to turn the machine off.

Licking his lips, he slowly thrusts up into his closed palm, spreading the precum down his shaft as he watches you catch your breath.

“I--ngh, fuh--fuck, I---I don’t--don’t know if I--I can cum a-again…”

Seungcheol moans at your breathy whimpers; the arousal in his body pooling up quickly when he sees the fucked out expression in your eyes. His eyes flit to the wetness that coats the silicone portion of the toy, smirking when he realizes how much you really seemed to enjoy the gift he’d gotten you.

Mentally patting himself on the back, he praises himself for making the right decision.

angelhan: please tlel me im the winner im begging

universe_WZ: NO

dom.cheol: is the princess tired already? ;)

You catch your breath, not wanting to give up despite how fuzzy your head was getting and how much your body was buzzing. “I dunno… We still haven’t tried the last setting, you guys… And I’m just so curious...” You whisper, hazy eyes staring into the camera.

hoshi_tiger_xx: god u look so pretty like this, all fucked out

artis8hao: right? fuck, id kill to be that guy who can get u off like this

xcaliburDK: goddamn same

The sound of coins clinking mixes with the ringing in your ears; fingertips already on the knob of the remote.

You take a deep breath, letting the adrenaline kick in as you quickly set the knob to the highest setting, a high pitched cry spilling from your lips when you let go of the remote in favor of holding onto the machine instead. Grinding down onto it, you meet the toy's harsh vibrations as it quickly forces another orgasm out of you in the matter of seconds.

Choked cries spill from your lips as your entire body tenses up; body twitching uncontrollably as you cum for the fourth time. You lean back with whatever energy you have left, bracing yourself on the back of the toy as you relieve your swollen clit of the buzzing machine. Your orgasm refuses to stop and you can already tell how obscenely wet everything’s gotten when your head starts to clear.

alphagyu97: fuck you squirted all over the toy baby

universe_WZ: fuck fucki fuck

universe_WZ: wait did i winf kjfhdsjk

You shakily slide off of the machine, resting on your side as the machine still buzzes with life next to you. Your entire body won’t stop shaking, head muddled as you fight the urge to shut your eyes and sleep for the next 5 days. “I’m--I--” You whimper, still feeling the phantom vibrations between your legs.

“I--ho--holy fuck, I, w-wow, I--I don’t--that--I’m, I’m just… wow.”

dom.cheol has donated $400

dom.cheol: knew you’d like it ;)

universe_WZ: THAT MEANS I WON

universe_WZ has donated $150

angelhan has donated $150

therealchan99: well, at least some of us got close

hoshi_tiger_xx: fuckin speak for urself man i said /10/

You end the show after letting ‘universe_WZ’ know you’ll contact him soon, shutting your eyes as you lay on your soiled sheets.

You can still feel your fingertips twitching when your eyes slide shut, chest heaving in deep breaths as you try to relax yourself, momentarily cursing yourself for pushing your body too far for tonight’s show. 

Groaning, you reach for your phone, the screen lighting up with a text from Seungcheol, a simple ‘don’t forget to drink water ;)’ in your notifications and you can’t help but pout.

Seungcheol was nice, almost too nice. Definitely not in a murderer kinda way though, you think. 

He bought you expensive gifts and never asked for anything in return which made you feel bad sometimes. And while the donations and tips you’d made through your camshows was enough to get by with, Seungcheol’s generous donations helped you always make your rent and bills on time without worrying if you’d have enough or not.

You quickly text him back with a smile on your face; hoping that he’ll like what you had to offer.

Seungcheol feels the exact same way he did when you first contacted him offering him a free show, except maybe ten times worse. At first, he’d been a little sad that he hadn’t won your quick little game but this made up for it 20-fold.

The six simple words read ‘want to meet up next friday?’, a small heart emoji next to the question and he’d almost thrown his phone when he read it, hands shakily responding with a simple ‘I’d love to.’ to make it seem like he was calm when he was most definitely not.

His immediate next order of business after replying was to text Namjoon despite how late into the night it already was, begging for the day off and offering to take any shifts or pay cuts in exchange for it. 

All he needed was one day and he swore he’d never miss a day of work ever again.

Namjoon responds with a quick ‘sure, why not’, momentarily confusing him as to why his boss was awake while simultaneously sending Seungcheol into complete panic when he realizes he finally gets to meet you.

The week goes by extremely quickly to Seungcheol; his mood on a completely different level when he offers to pick up Yoongi’s Sunday shift without a complaint. He cleans up all the messes around the roller rink and even offers to do jobs that aren’t his which have Jeongguk raising a brow at the older male.

In the days that lead up to your meeting, Seungcheol looks up a few cafes that you might be interested in and even goes to get an STD exam, not that he’s expecting anything. Safety first, he says.

Your Wednesday show comes and goes, Seungcheol too excited to even get off when he watches you and he even donates an extra $600 at the end of the show; travel spending money, he offers.

And Thursday comes without a hitch and he all but skips to the employee backroom once his shift is over, humming a tune while he changes out of his uniform.

“Hey hyung, no offense, but are you okay?” Jeongguk rests against the locker next to Seungcheol’s open one, brow raised at the blue haired male that beams back at him. “I’m scared, why are you so… giddy. You even offered to take Yoongi-hyung’s weekend shift? What the hell was that about? I’ve never seen him that giddy either.  Man, this place is getting weird, maybe I should quit...”

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh, patting Jeongguk on the shoulder before shutting his locker.

“I have an important meeting tomorrow, that’s all. And don’t quit, ‘cause who else is gonna give me free food.”

While the excitement had him since Saturday, now that it was finally Friday, he was downright nervous.

The two of you had agreed to meet at 2PM in front of the cafe that Seungcheol had picked out and you’d gotten a hotel in town to make it easier on yourself instead of trying to get back to your place too late. Seungcheol had offered to come pick you up, but you had politely declined; instead opting to meet him first before letting him do anything else for you.

And by nature, Seungcheol gets to the cafe 15 minutes early, fidgeting and continuously running his fingers through his hair as he patiently waits. He can feel his palms getting sweaty when he rubs them against his jeans, mentally trying to keep calm and his head floods with all sorts of thoughts; mainly, how he even got into this position with you in the first place. And he gets so distracted that he doesn’t realize you’d be standing watching him zone out for the last 5 minutes.

“Wow, not sure what’s got you so focused but you’re standing so still!”

Seungcheol hears your cute airy laugh that follows, a cherry blush on his cheeks when his eyes meet your smiling face. “I--oh my god…” He whispers, taking in your appearance.

He feels his face buzzing, fingers twitching when he sees you in a cute simple  sundress. “W-wow, you--you’re just… so beautiful. I mean, you’re beautiful on cam too but just, wow, in person? Incredible.” The blush reaches his ears when he realizes he’s rambling, a nervous laugh spilling out of his lips.

“S--sorry, I, uh, usually I’m more chill than this but y’know…” He trails off, to which you nod. You step closer to Seungcheol and he gets a hint of your sweet smelling perfume, mentally groaning when your cute eyes peer up into his.

“That’s okay! I totally understand~ I’m kinda nervous myself too, to be honest…” You pause, a pink blush coating your own cheeks. “But let’s talk over some food, huh?”

Seungcheol doesn’t want to pry, but he’s not sure if he should address you as ‘Cherry’ in person, or if he should avoid calling you by anything at all.

He watches as you go through the cafe’s menu, biting the inside of his cheek as he itches to ask.

“‘Cheol… I can feel you staring, y’know.. Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, concerned eyes meeting his nervous ones.

“I just-- Sorry, I didn’t mean to be awkward, I just was wondering how I should address you in person? I don’t want to overstep my bounds, I know you don’t put your real name out there so…”

You place your menu down, closing it before leaning on your palms atop the small table. Seungcheol is cute, too cute, you think. You knew this would be a question when the two of you eventually met and you had given yourself the time to get used to the idea that he’d know your real name.

He eyes hyperfocus on your glossy lips, watching as you say your name for him for the first time.

Seungcheol’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest when he hears it; repeating it over and over in his head before he says it out loud.

“Wow, it sounds nice when it’s you saying it~” You tease, leaning back in your chair. “I don’t mind if you call me by my name, by the way! The pet names are cute but maybe we should keep that to the bedroom~” You end in a whisper, winking at the male.

Fuck, he thinks, just as his cock throbs at your comment. He really wishes you wouldn’t say things like that because he’s weak and he knows it, especially when it comes to you. “Okay, cool! Yeah, sorry, I just---I didn’t want to overstep, I know you don’t really let that be public information.”

“Of course! And thank you, I really can’t tell you how much you’ve done for me. I really… really wouldn’t be able to do all the things that I do if it weren’t for your constant support.”

You want to say more, but the waiter comes to take your orders, cutting you off until he leaves again.

“By the way…” Seungcheol looks at you with curious eyes, lips puckered around his drink straw. “Tell me about yourself, ‘Cheollie! I feel like we didn’t really get to talk that one time!”

He swallows the water in his mouth, licking his dry lips. Here goes nothing, he thinks.

“I swear, and please don’t think I’m a loser, but I--I work at a roller rink. It’s really not cool, I’m not some high paid CEO or whatever, I--I just, I work hard?” Seungcheol chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he waits for your reply.

“Wait, that’s so cool! Oh my gosh, I kinda wanna go!”

The surprise washes over Seungcheol, eyes wide as saucers when he hears you saying you’d want to visit his workplace. “Wuh---wait, seriously!?”

“Yeah! It’s kinda, like, retro! I haven’t been to one since I was a kid!” He quickly offers to bring you to the roller rink on Sunday so you could have somewhere to hang out while you were in town.

“And sadly, I took a shift on Sunday so you can hang with me while I work.” 

Seungcheol grins, watching as you jokingly roll your eyes at him. “So you did it on purpose, huh…” The two of you share a laugh, glad that your first meeting seemed to be going okay so far.

“Well, I mean, if it makes you feel any better, my best friend works the concession stand so I’ll make sure to get you a free pair of skates and food whenever you want?”

“It’s a deal!”

The two of you continue to talk over your late lunch, Seungcheol telling you of the various work hijinks he’d gone through at his time working at the roller rink.

“Which, by the way, that morning show you did… Hope you know I holed up in the restroom for an entire hour for that ‘lil stunt.”

You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes when you laugh, only feeling slightly bad for the blue haired male. “But I told you! Sometimes it’s just like that, y’know~” You tease back, heart blooming at the way you and Seungcheol got along.

In all honesty, there’d been something on your mind since you first sat down and you didn’t know when the right time to ask was, or if it was even appropriate.

The smile slips from your face as you bite the inside of your cheek in thought.

Seungcheol takes the bill from the waiter, slipping his card into the holder before you can even offer. But he notices the way your expression falls, noting the hesitance in your eyes when he looks at you from across the table.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice is gentle, soft and caring when he leans over the table to make sure you’re alright.

“Yeah! Just---Can I ask you for a favor?”

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #scoups smut #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups #seungcheol

[infinitum-imaginaerum]

Secrets | Joshua

Joshua | Secrets

Words | 9,180

Notes | Bodyguard!Joshua, mentions of alcohol, mild cursing. Angst/Fluff; 

I’m back-ish with a very rough (I think) piece, mildly edited. I’m excited but nervous to be posting here again and I don’t know how often it will be that I will be posting but.... here’s this; my first svt piece in 8 months. This is a repost since... the tagging system on this site... yeah... 

The fake smiles and peach Bellinis, the overdone cologne and extravagant attire, the crystal chandeliers and table decorations all brought a sneer to your face when you assumed nobody was paying close enough attention. The solitude didn’t bother you so much, it was nice to not feel like you were being suffocated for at least ten minutes; ten minutes of breathing to yourself was all you ever asked for. Always being tugged this way and that for photo ops got exhausting. The photo ops weren’t even the most taxing part, it was the fake relationship you had to keep up with one of the most prominent up and coming jewelry designer’s son, who you had happily dated at one point.

Big chunky bracelets, rings that looked too heavy for fingers, necklaces layered to the hills, and earrings that may have ripped anyone’s earlobes open was the type of gaudy jewelry you always had to put on display with a disgusting fake smile while your now-ex-boyfriend dripped with confidence, somehow, that made your skin crawl. Being in his direct vicinity all the time to keep up the image of this perfect shining couple for the sake of jewelry promotions quite frankly made your stomach turn, but the perks may have made it worth it—occasionally.

Some of the more elegant jewelry picks, a lump sum of money, some days wiping that egotistical smirk off his face were a few things that made it all worthwhile since you were frequently the one being interviewed at events about the jewelry line while still not being the heir. That boiled his blood in a way that genuinely turned your lips up in an almost unnoticeable smile. The couth you had to sit there in front of him and take all the questions with such grace—you could feel the way his fingers dug into your hip when he sat with you a bit friendly, but it was all for show. The two of you were business partners now, and that’s really all it boiled down to.

But you’d had your run-in with his less than stellar attitudes, at galas and showcases when he lost his temper with you being a show-stealer, and often forcefully kept you around to keep the cameras on him. That’s when you found Joshua. You’d found him and his specific skillset in a newspaper ad—it was unlike you to read the newspaper but you perused the ad section for job listings, animal adoptions, and all kinds of other things when you came across his blurb:

Full or Part Time Bodyguard. Trained in hand to hand and weapons combat, CPR certified, available for any/all events. To Inquire, call Joshua Hong.

While you had entertained the idea of a bodyguard for a while, it never really became a necessity until the business partnership you had was getting a bit more aggressive. There was little you could do to complain, because leaving was always a viable option, albeit they begged you to stay for publicity purposes—they being the family after hearing of your falling out. But Joshua became a harsher reality as the partnership became most hostile.  

When you first saw Joshua at a consultation, he was the last type you’d ever suspect. You wouldn’t say he was far from intimidating looking, but he didn’t radiate a whole ass-kicking like you had expected. He was quieter with soft eyes but very professional. He spoke to you matter-of-factly, laying out all your options and drafting contract ideas in case you wanted to go through with hiring him. You figured it couldn’t hurt to have him around, particularly at events where anything could have gone unnoticed in such a large crowd, especially with the way you were treated.

Bringing Joshua to the table for a showcase rocked the boat a bit. It turned into an escalation by your ‘business partner’ about how it was unnecessary to have a bodyguard and that it would only bring suspicions about your relationship, to which you retaliated, “As if you harshly pulling me around isn’t enough.”  His parents could do little to object. You had Joshua there with you, or you were out of the deal, which would bring their publicity and the whole story of a budding couple getting into jewelry design together to a screeching halt and they would undoubtedly lose the following and media support they’d gained because of it.

Joshua became even less favorable by the end of the first confrontation between him and the egomaniac. He was demanding you around at a photo-op, even sternly in front of the photographers—most of which by now were suspicious of the condition of your relationship because really how dare he talk to you like that much less in public—and often grabbed you by the arm and placed you exactly where he wanted you when he wanted you to be there. It was in Joshua’s contract to tolerate minor things like that, but he ground his teeth at just the sight but kept his mouth shut for the duration of the shoot. But when it was finally time to go home, he sure gave a piece of his unsolicited mind.

“Next time, how about you try keeping your hands off,” Joshua commented a bit harshly in the direction of the man who quickly became an enemy.

“Joshua,” you pleaded with him as you were packing your things, but your ex had already turned face to chest Joshua up. He ignored you for a moment, knowing you weren’t in any danger because the only danger to you was currently right in his face.

“I’ll put her where I want, when I want,” was the confident reply.

“Actually, you won’t,” Joshua spat back, eye to eye with the slightly shorter male in front of him. “You will keep your hands to yourself.”

“Mister Hong,” you almost barked, his full name flowing from your lips like a command to a soldier, which was in essence what he was. He choked off the growl in his throat as he turned face to return to you while you finished gathering your things, but not without giving the other man—who looked as if that was a battle he’d won instead of a battle he’d just been saved from—a glare that would make his mother pale. You picked up your bag after Joshua helped your jacket on and you left the building.

He did his best to bite his tongue in situations he knew he should just be quiet and wait for your cue or follow the contract to a T. The first gala was an absolute trip—there were hundreds of people, too many asking too many questions, flashing cameras in your face, people crowding left and right and that same smile on your face even he could tell was fake. But he played the part well—he donned a pressed black suit with a lovely fuchsia carnation pinned on his lapel. The only thing that made him out of place was the clear earpiece he had tapped to the microphone in the clip of your hair. If he was too far to see you, he could at least hear you if there was a problem.

It was obvious enough that it deterred people from asking him questions, or even talking to him really, but he wasn’t the only guard on duty so he spent most of his time playing wallflower, lined up with the others as they observed the gala. It was clear that it was strictly forbidden to interact with you under circumstances not outlined in the contract, by direct request of the family of honor. You figured it was fair, as the whole reason you were there was to portray an image and Joshua wasn’t part of it.

Most gala’s he spent gritting his teeth as he stood tall against the wall, watching the way your partner manhandled you just within the boundaries of the contract until it was finally over when he would follow you close out of the venue and take your hand to step you off the curb to let you fall into the passenger’s seat of his car brought around by valet just to get in and grip the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grasp and silently take you home, and be paid out on your doorstep—what soon became the routine.

But the routine changed when you grew a little fonder of Joshua when you lingered to leave when you were no longer in need of his services, when sometimes you sat in the passenger’s seat of his car to just sit and process, or to vent, or to just enjoy being in the company of another without the stress of a business agenda. When you finally talked freely about interests outside of this partnership you had with him.  When he walked you to your door and had a little more to say, irrelevant to being paid—things as simple as sleep well, or stay safe, or until next time, things other than thank you for your business. When it seemed as though he was growing fonder of you, too.

And then, the door once cracked opened a bit more when a late conversation turned into a disagreement turned into something else.

You knew he’d been disgruntled with the inability to do anything about the situation, with the way the boundaries were teased and tested and Joshua’s investment in you continued to grow beyond the confines of said contract. It brought on a lot of tension between the two of you, as if there hadn’t been tension on car rides home after parties or showcases or reveals or fundraisers—it didn’t really matter, he took you to and from almost every event.

He was quieter than usual, something you tried to ignore as you tended the bruise against your arm from where you’d been grabbed multiple times throughout the night, mostly minding your own business and exchanged your attention between that and the passing of the city outside the car window. The air conditioning was cool on your skin, soothing on your feet from being pressed in heels all night that you’d slightly kicked off in a bit of relief before he finally broke the silence.

“When are you going to let me give him what’s coming?” Joshua asked you, his tone a little urgent, and startled you a little bit in the deep leather bucket seat of his car. “It’s been five months and time and time again you let him tug you around like a rag-doll and only half the time can I see the discomfort on your face, but a hundred percent of the time I can hear it when you grunt or wince or yelp.”  

You sighed heavily—this wasn’t particularly a conversation you wanted to have.

“He’s within the contract,” you replied.

“Any malicious touch should be outside the contract,” he growled.

“Well then it’s a good thing you didn’t write it,” you replied as he pulled up to your place, shutting the car off after throwing it into park to walk you up to your door like he always did. You had a bottom floor apartment, which made slipping your heels back on and stepping out of the car less of a battle since you wouldn’t have to climb any stairs.  Even though he was a bit put off with you, he still rounded the car to gently take your hand to pull you up from the seat, double-checking to make sure you had everything, and walked you up to your door.

“I wish I had,” he finally replied as you turned the key in the handle to tumble the look to unlock your door. “I wish I had because he would have stopped testing the both of us months ago.”

“That’s not your call to make,” you replied, grabbing the envelope that sat on the table just inside your doorway which already had a predetermined amount enclosed with his name written in fine script across it the same way that it always did. “I hired you to do a specific job, you agreed to adhere to the contract; if you don’t like the contract, we can discontinue this partnership at any time,” you finished.

Part of you couldn’t decide if he hadn’t heard anything you said, or if he was just taking his time to reply, because his gaze was effectively all over your face, refusing to reach up for the envelope. You could see the look in his eyes that generally meant he was thinking, but what came next you almost couldn’t prepare for.

Both his warm hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head up towards his just enough for him to gracefully take your lips with his. Your back softly hit the frame of your door as his envelope crumpled in your hand, and you found yourself instinctively leaning up into his mouth while your free hand momentarily cupped the back of his neck before you came to and nudged him away.

“Joshua…” you muttered a tad breathlessly, breaking the kiss. There were a million things that should have been going through your mind at that point, starting with how unprofessional all of this was, continuing with the image you had to maintain and how this whole thing would interfere with that, and finishing with grappling with your feelings that were turning your stomach over like a fish on deck.

One of his hands had slipped away from your face to hold you steady, warm and wide on your hip, but the other continued to tenderly stroke against your cheek while you looked at each other. His envelope was still clutched in your hand against his side, your other hand sliding away from the back of his neck and down his lapel—you could push him away, you should push him away. You wanted to tell him how many problems this would cause, how complicated this just made everything, but somehow all you could think about was the glitter in his eyes, the mint tones of his breath, and the taste of his pomegranate chapstick.

He must have known it wasn’t a good move because he collected the envelope from your hand without much more delay for thought—your door was already open so he didn’t have to wait any longer as he bid you goodnight, reminded you to sleep well, and turned to be on his way. You found his name stuck in the back of your throat, dying to come out, but also dying to stay in. The implications of the situation swirled in your head, and you gave a rickety exhale before finding your feet enough to retreat through your door.

Business continued as usual, Joshua attended with you as usual, but the only difference was that you were getting progressively more infuriated with the way you were being treated as another month passed. The jig had to have been up, the publicity you were gaining from keeping up the relationship lie had to have faded by now, but the numbers didn’t lie.  Joshua was still at your side, in the background, observing, wherever he needed to be to ensure his job was done correctly.  

You had taken a nasty fall on one of the sets of a photo-op because of an impatient and tugging hand of the typical problem male. Joshua lurched from against the wall as you cursed, the floor hard against your knees, and you stayed on the ground for a moment while your nails clawed against the tile, pushing away the sting.  A sweet voice whispered your name, and you knew who it belonged to, along with the hand that was extended in front of you. You stared at it for a moment before sitting up enough to dust your hands against each other, and daintily place one in Joshua’s large and warm one. He slowly lifted you to your feet, wanting to check your knees which were hidden behind a floral maxi-dress.

“Pathetic, can’t even get up on your own,” your ex-boyfriend spat in your direction, and the sigh that left your lips could have been a call from hell itself.

Your gaze turned up slowly, away from the ground, and up to his face like the inferno was ready to take him through the earth’s crust.  There was a snarl turning at the corners of your nose, and it was clear as day you’d had it up to your eyeballs. Your hand gripped Joshua’s with all the strength you had, and he could only look at you, waiting for your cue, waiting for you to cut him loose before you brought your free hand up and clapped it against the side of the face of your unruly business partner. It was a sound that rang through the room, and by the sound of the cry that exited just a moment after, you caught him upwards on the jaw and probably snapped his teeth together.

He yelled profanities at you, but the exhaustion of his antics were clear in your eyes. Joshua snarled at him when he attempted to approach, but you almost begged for it.

“Do you want another?” you asked him, a tinge in your voice that startled even Joshua. The blood from your split knee was trickling down your leg at this point, you could feel it go, but your one hand clutched the hand it held unwaveringly.  

The way your voice softened when you turned your head to speak to Joshua was like night and day. “My knees are bleeding,” you informed him, feeling them quiver as you continued to stand, bruising imminent. He didn’t hesitate to place your hand against his shoulder to slide around his neck and lift your legs out from under you. Your wicked ex-boyfriend took a step, but Joshua was quick and turned to check.

“Try me,” he growled and waited for an advance that never came before he turned to take you out of the room. One of the photography hands followed the two of you out with a first aid kit but stood aside to let Joshua take care of you. You pulled the dress up past your knees—it was worse than you thought. He requested some water to begin to clean your leg before cleaning the split that was already black and purple and swollen to the hills.

“You must have gone down pretty hard,” he commented, gingerly tending to said wound, but diligently nonetheless to get it cleared away enough to assess. At that point, all you cared about was the bloodstain on the knee of your pretty white dress. The pain was ignorable, your ex was ignorable, Joshua was mostly ignorable, but the pain you felt in your pride from letting him treat you like that which manifested in the stain on your dress was not. You looked at the stain with such disdain as you held it in your hands.

“I’ll get you a new dress,” he muttered after noting the look on your face.

“That’s not the point!” you yelled back harshly. He looked at you calmly, knowing your outburst wasn’t directed at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied quietly and turned his gaze back down to bandage your knee, at least well enough to complete the shoot because he knew you weren’t going to leave without finishing it.

And so you did; the blood on your dress could be edited out, so that posed little concern. What did concern you, however, was the attitudes in the room and how they would shift. From then on, every move was checked with Joshua, both your eyes and your ex-boyfriend’s eyes meeting him if he ever even reached for you. Something in the way you’d whole-hand clapped him and the look on Joshua’s face after the fact—he had to have known at that point that he wasn’t ‘safe’ anymore. It was as if he could see that Joshua had been unclipped from the figurative leash.  

You finished the shoot with no further altercations but definitely needed help with some of the positions as your knee was unable to bend certain ways anymore, for the time being. When the shoot was finally over, you stayed on the set couch for a lingering moment as Joshua gathered your things and brought them over to you, but not without clipping shoulders with the trouble-maker himself.  

He had your duffel over his shoulder, creasing the jacket of his suit but refused to let you take it when he was able to get you on your feet again. You looked up at him with a scowl, almost as if to say that you could carry it yourself, but he gave you a skeptical look, not skeptical that you could carry it but that you were injured and he would just as well carry it for you.

You paid the photography crew your respects before beginning to hobble out of the set and eventually out of the building. Joshua offered you his arm as a crutch multiple times that you refused, stubbornly, until he’d finally had enough.

“Please take my arm, or I’ll carry you out of here,” he almost threatened as a gave a smile to the man at the security desk while you passed him, who gave you a curious look as you limped. You wanted to growl, but begrudgingly took his arm anyway; admittedly, it relieved some pain. He put your duffel in the back seat once finally arriving at the car and then opened the passenger’s door for you. Gingerly you lifted your damaged leg into the car first before all but falling in after it and let him close the door behind you.

As usual, he turned on the air conditioner a bit high—you needed to cool off after every interaction you had with your ex on any business excursion you needed to attend. You kept your rage entirely inside which boiled your blood and made your face hot and the cool air was quite helpful to bring it all back. Joshua delayed in starting the car for a moment as he looked over to you to make sure you were okay, but you ignored the pain in your knee and looked out the window, waiting for the car to start moving.  He sighed, noting the bloodstains on the knee of your dress before finally bringing the car to life to take you home.  It was already late into the afternoon, and he knew you’d want time to prepare dinner and shower and other things to relax for the evening, so he didn’t waste any more time.

He took you and your bag up to your front door the way he normally did, only this time with one of your hands wrapped around his arm to steady yourself as you hobbled slowly with your heels in your other hand before you were digging for your keys. Once your door opened, you threw your shoes in and took the duffel bag from him to toss that inside the doorway as well and reached for his envelope on the table, and turned back to him.

Joshua stood tall and respectfully the way he always did, alert with his shoulders square, hands clasps behind his back. Somehow his hair was always immaculate, his suit always pressed with zero hints of wrinkles, too professional; but his eyes looked at you softly, eyes you were looking into deeper and deeper every time you got the chance, eyes that captivated you like nothing else. You clutched the envelope in both your hands, a thought stirring in the back of your throat as you looked up at him.

“Joshua…” you started, trying to get the thought out as the envelope crumpled in your fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied respectfully, only for you to remind him of your name even though you knew he hadn’t forgotten.

“I don’t pay you for this…” you started, crumpling the envelope a little more as you looked down at it, “but I would, if you wanted; I just don’t have any near family and I don’t want to be alone after all that and—”

“I’ll stay, for a bit, if that’s what you need. I’m here to serve you,” he replied, the tenseness in his shoulders dropping a little bit as his hands came forward to cup over yours, stopping you from nervously crinkling his envelope, “And don’t worry about compensating me.”

You weren’t sure how to reply as he finessed the envelope from your hands, setting it back down on the table you always retrieved it from as he walked you slowly back through the doorway of your apartment and kicked his shoes by the door. “Do you mind if I take my coat off?” he asked you, and you were a bit taken aback by the question—he was always dressed professionally, and this was the first time he would be taking his jacket off in front of you. All you could do was nod as you peeled yours off, too, a sweet dark washed cropped jean jacket.  

At some point you remember getting him a glass of water, you remember excusing yourself to change so that you could spot treat your dress and assess the damage on your knee yourself as Joshua made himself at home on your couch. It was the first time Joshua would see you in more casual clothes instead of dolled up for some event, but it was fair because you were seeing him cut a little loose too.  You remember flipping on the TV to drown out the somewhat awkward silence that loomed between the two of you for a bit, before agreeing on what to order for food. It was still a bit early for dinner, so some mindless TV was in order for a little bit. A part of Joshua had expected something else; maybe some feelings dumping or something similar, but he didn’t mind the fact that you just wanted to relish his company.  

That didn’t stop him from consistently looking at you, consistently noting the way your eyes would get a bit glassy before being controlled—you refused to cry in front of him.  He wasn’t there to comfort you, that wasn’t his job, and you didn’t want to make it seem like it was.   But when you could feel him looking at the side of your face a little too hard, you turned to look at him with the intention of asking if he wanted to order food, but ended up getting trapped in his eyes again.  

You could feel your breath hitch in your throat, meeting his gaze, but he didn’t seem surprised. His eyebrows rose for a split second, hardly even noticed as he looked back at you—your eyes were still a bit glassy from the forced back tears. He wouldn’t dare ask you to speak, much less speak about what was on your mind; he had unclear instructions of what he was there for, but it took everything in him to just sit there and say nothing, do nothing.  

He took a leap, and reached over to retrieve your hand closest to him, which happened to be your left hand, and cupped it in both of his.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through; I can’t even begin to imagine how hard and taxing it is, how unbreakable your resolve has been, how strong you have been, but I know that you are.  I know that you are gracious and kind and patient. I know that you are so much than I get to see, so much more than anything he’d ever deserve.”

It was meant to be comforting, to be encouraging, and it was. Somehow, your fingers threaded between his and squeezed, trying to stave the tears that he had inadvertently pushed up to your waterline, and to avoid having him see them fall, you finally turned your face away from his.

“I’m going to order dinner, what would you like?” you asked, voice cracking a little as you quickly stood from the couch to the dismay of your injured knee as your hand left his. You quickly made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel to dab under your eyes, trying to save the makeup you had left. Vaguely, you heard him say something about getting whatever—he would eat whatever you ordered for him—and pulled out the small book of menus from nearby places.

Joshua sat on the couch, the lack of your hand between his somehow more intense when he knew you needed some comfort as he listened to you flip through some pages and eventually dial a number to place an order. He didn’t expect you to return immediately, or even within a reasonable amount of time, which was good because you didn’t.  You continued to stand in the kitchen and grip the counter, pushing your tears back and back and back while trying not to agitate your leg too much; the burn was real from your rush to get up, so you stood on the leg that was still good and bent the other to give it a rest.

Eventually, he was going to have to check on you. He spent plenty of time glancing over to the kitchen to see if you were emerging yet, but it didn’t happen to be the case, so before too long he pushed himself up from the couch as he quietly cooed your name. You had just been rounding the corner out of the kitchen and he’d caught you by surprise, causing you to stumble over your own feet and crash right into him. His anticipatory hands were able to catch you, for the most part, one able to catch your elbow while the other controlled your fall into his body. Your hands were a little more unceremonious, one furling in the fabric of his white dress shirt and the other grabbing onto his bicep while you crash-landed into his chest, staggering him a bit.

It was the first time you were really getting a lungful of his fragrance, swirling around you like phantom chains. The first time you were really feeling the solidity of his body and how protective it was capable of being. The first time you were really feeling the largeness of his hands as he steadied your balance by hulling you up against him to set you fully back on your own feet, the second time his wide palm was placed against your hip, which brought back many memories of the first time just outside your front door. He could have been able to hear the way you swallowed, looking right at his throat, adorned with a perfectly knotted tie and a finely pressed shirt collar.

And for a moment, you stood there with complete silence looming between the two of you while your hands found a more comfortable place to rest which happened to be right on the curve of his chest while the other continued to hold his bicep. It was always hard to see under his immaculate jackets, but now that it was just his dress shirt and an undershirt, you could see the way your hands curved against him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he finally spoke, throat shifting particularly with how low he was trying to keep his voice, his bicep flexing under your hand as his hands slid a little further around you.

“Thank you for catching me,” you replied, “so I didn’t have to fall in front of you, again.”

For some reason, that hit him painfully. He couldn’t decide if it was because he felt guilty for making you feel embarrassed about what had happened in front of him, or because he felt guilty for not being able to prevent it in the first place. Although it felt like a sting, he was fully aware that you were making no effort to move from his grasp which was still settled somewhat around your waist until you had decided it was long enough and shuffled out of his grasp.

Joshua never dared pry about what was on your mind, even as he continued to watch you push tears away. At one point, you did close the gap between the two of you on the couch and sat with him, hip to hip, at least until your food arrived. You ate quietly, really just relishing each other’s presence outside of business hours, and sometimes caught him looking at you a little too long which he would dismiss with a soft smile. But dinner was quick, and you were cleaning up almost as soon as you sat down, it felt. And the sooner you were done with dinner, you feared, the sooner he would leave and that just wasn’t a thought you were ready to deal with yet. You had been grappling with saying something, giving him anything about what was going on with you—he already had a pretty good idea and made that very apparent, but you got nervous and pulled away.

You cleaned up in the kitchen quickly and grabbed Joshua’s empty glass to refresh it after he insisted the water was perfectly fine, before joining him on the couch again. This time you’d switched over the TV to just play music which was also perfectly fine because it seemed to ease the tension that was bubbling between the two of you.

“You know, I know we’re not that close, and I know you hired me, but if there’s anything you want to say, or if there’s anything you want me to do—”

“Does that anything include hauling a body away?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood since it had been a little dark since you first invited him in. He seemed to find amusement in your joke because he chuckled.

“I just want you to feel comfortable with me, like you don’t have to tiptoe around me or like you can’t experience emotions in front of me—I couldn’t even detect a semblance of pain on your face earlier although I know it hurt,” he reminded you.

“I do feel comfortable with you,” you replied, driving the point home by subconsciously leaning over to cozy up to him, resting your head against his shoulder as you were already sitting hip to him. He seemed a bit shocked, jarring for only a moment before relaxing into the way you pressed against him. “If I didn’t, I would have gotten rid of you a long time ago.”

“Ouch, so expendable,” he jested, resisting settling an arm around your shoulder. He knew from the last time that there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, even if you were crossing one right now. It was on you what to do, but he couldn’t just take a moment of physical contact as the go-ahead, especially as you pulled away.

“You’re off the clock; you don’t have to be so alert,” you finally added.

“It’s in my nature,” he replied quietly, his gaze casting from your lap and back up to your face. “I can’t help wanting to jump to your defense, even from the threat that’s in your head.”

“At least that tells me that you take your job very seriously,” you replied just as quietly, your voice fading off a bit at the end as his face neared yours a bit more.

“You asked me to come in because you didn’t want to be alone; I think that warrants attention,” he answered. He had a point, but somewhere in the feeling of his warm breath against your cheeks, that point was lost. You knew what was coming, but somehow didn’t have the mind to stop it, or the want to stop it from happening. Your fingers furled into the upholstery of your couch as he came into your space.

“Joshu—” you tried, but the tender way his lips touched against yours cut that off.  There was a familiar touch of his fingertips against the cut of your jaw while his mouth gently slanted against yours. The sigh that exhaled through his nose was exacerbated as one of your somewhat panicked hands took a grip of his tie and tugged, encouraging him to tilt your jaw to his will as he readjusted the kiss.

He broke the kiss for a moment to gauge you, a little too in the moment to remember the first time this happened and what a mistake it was; somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the implications, he knew the conditions of your contract with the jewelry gig, he knew the media was keeping watch on your fake relationship, and he knew how much this was forbidden, but that only made him want it more. And you must have felt somewhat the same, because you leaned in to tease his bottom lip with your teeth, feeling the exhilaration of the fleeting freedom from that fake relationship against Joshua’s lips; the way the stress of all of that melted away at the taste of that familiar pomegranate chapstick.  His breath was warm against your mouth, anticipating your next move but you made it clear you were waiting for him as you hesitated while his lip slipped from the gentle grip of your teeth and, tentatively, he took your bottom lip to swipe his tongue against it to delve into another forbidden lip lock.

Breathless, you gave a deep exhale against his mouth as you’d finally come to your senses. Somewhere in your subconscious, you knew the two of you were dancing around this chemistry because you knew it would have to be a secret. You’d had all the forethought in the world after the last time about any time you could catch him away from the crowd how badly you wanted to take the lapel of his coat in your hands and melt into him. The last thing you needed was for rumors to start going around about you and him, but in this very moment, as your lips trailed away from his to kiss against the line of his jaw, you seemed to care not. And you knew you would have continued to kiss down his neck the way you’d thought about more times than you’d like to admit out loud if you didn’t know better. But the way his breath hit the air and the way his head tilted back just a bit just begged for a little more.

“Joshua,” you whispered against the slender column of his neck, or what you could reach that wasn’t covered by his completely buttoned shirt as your lips slid up to his ear, “If you don’t knock it off, next time I might not stop.”

A shiver shot down his spine at just the implications of your words. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was complicated, but now he knew that you felt the same way he did, that you knew he just couldn’t help it. His breath hit the air in a huff, a semblance of a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips but it faded just as quickly as his head came back down to meet gaze with you.

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” he replied, the glimmer in his eyes like the entire galaxy condensed. You agreed on the conditions of your current situation from a simple look, but you could also tell in each other’s eyes how much that didn’t matter. All that mattered was not getting caught. All that mattered was that it was a secret. Even still, something ate at you about the riskiness.  

You stood from the couch for the sole purpose of creating some distance before you completely lost your resolve, although it was still breaking the more you looked at his eyes, the features of his face, the curves and sharpness of his jaw, and his mouth which you were already so acquainted with.

It would be tough, but you knew already quitting Joshua would be harder already, so you both vowed to keep it as down low as possible, and that meant entirely in the ground in public of any kind.

That meant you attended galas and fundraisers with even more disinterest than you had before, and the tugging persisted but now you were being bombarded with questions about your fake relationship—you did your best to remain quiet and let the star of the show answer. You continued to work on designing pieces in the comfort of your apartment and develop them into fine pieces of jewelry and you were still raking in design rights left and right from a company you wanted to break from entirely. It was slowly becoming apparent that no matter what happened between you and Joshua, that company would owe you royalties for your designs, and undoubtedly would ask you to continue designing since you were the top contributor much to your partner’s dismay.

To do your best to avoid suspicion, Joshua often stayed behind at times he would have typically accompanied you. He spent more time playing wallflower than he was used to, especially as you were being bombarded left and right by people who wanted nothing more than your attention than to pick your brain about your designs, but despite the new dynamic of his investment, he was still your bodyguard.   And the more he got invested, the more he hated seeing you put in that fake smile in the arms of a man he already detested; but he vowed to keep his word, and keep his word he did.

Some galas, you just couldn’t take it. Joshua always had a watchful eye on you when you were seated even while Mr. Self-Important was wandering about and entertaining guests, trying to butter them up for a sale or investment of some kind. Occasionally, you’d meet eyes with him before finding your way to your feet and began to weave through the crowd. It wasn’t unusual for him to follow you, as it was agreed he would be keeping eyes on you at all costs.  You made your way through many hot bodies crammed in a too-small room as he tried to keep track of your head bobbing through the crowd before making it into a back room. Still, he followed the sound of your heels against the ornate tile. He followed you quite some time before leading him onto the balcony of a backroom you doubted anyone would be finding even if they were adventuring on their own.

“What do you think you’re doing, taking off like that?” he asked you a little roughly, trying to figure out exactly what was going through your mind to just get up and storm off as if that wouldn’t gather some attention.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you replied desperately, looking back at him as you exhaled sharply. The look in your eyes was enough, an inextinguishable fire burned in your very soul. He almost melted under that gaze, daring to shuffle towards you. You let the fresh air wash against the skin exposed by your evening gown—it was refreshing, to say the least; but the way Joshua was looking back at you made it hard to distinguish the cool air from the fire in your veins.

You begged to step passed him and return to the gala—being out here with him alone spelled bad news for the secrecy of your intermingling lives because you could tell the more that you looked at him, the more you couldn’t stop the way your gaze flittered down to his lips for only a moment before trying to recompose yourself.  But you went to step anyway, not quick enough for his wide hands which strongly took your hips and backed you up against the railing of the balcony.

“Is that why you lead me out here? You had to have known I would follow you,” he asked, a ghost of a whisper in the slight breeze as he leaned down to capture your gaze again, bringing your eyes up to his and you could feel your breath caught in your throat, hands anticipatorily on his forearms through his suit coat.

You wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him this couldn’t happen—not here, not now. The way he continued to step closer to you made the lump bigger and bigger, making it even more difficult to get words out before he was leaned in too close, and only then were you able to squeak anything out.

“It’s dangerous,” you muttered against his mouth, the familiar taste of his pomegranate chapstick and the plush warmth of his lips against yours broke any semblance of control and your hands ruffled through the hair on the back of his head.  It was feverish at first, as if you’d been deprived of him for so long before the actuality of his lips against yours, of his hands on your body tugging you into him finally set in and you calmed down; as did your hands which combed his hair back into place before sitting daintily across his broad shoulders until he broke the kiss off, hypocritically trying to remind you that you were still in public but it didn’t stop the way he placed gentle kisses against your forehead as you leaned into him.

His scent, which you had grown so accustomed to, seemed to be amplified in the quiet wind as you took a deep breath through your nose while his forehead found yours—your eyes remained closed, and it was the most serene moment you’d experienced at a gala to that day. Everything felt at ease, everything felt simple, everything felt right.

But in the following days, a different kind of panic was settling into you when your boss’s son showed up on your doorstep with the front page of a magazine with a photo of you and Joshua out on that balcony that night.  He was red in the face, demanding an explanation from you about how you could be so careless, essentially informing you that he had already had ideas about you and Joshua but trusted that you wouldn’t blow the work you had going.  The thought of being caught had crossed your mind on so many occasions, but late-night talks after late-night talk when he stayed over to calm your nerves, to rub your shoulders and shower you with kisses, you concluded—what were they going to do? What did you care about that fake relationship? What did you care about the publicity of a company you had no investment in other than design rights? Regardless of popularity, you would continue to get royalties from every sale of your designs.  

“This is simply absurd; this is the last thing I had anticipated waking up to. This ruins so many things, in fact, it ruins everything! All the publicity we had going for this startup, you so selfishly ruined!” he screamed at you while you stood in the doorway of your apartment. For a moment, you didn’t care. He had screamed at you many times in the past, so you looked at him unfazed.

“I’m sorry, I’m the selfish one? I’m the one who demanded we keep up a fake relationship for a publicity stunt to… what… keep the jewelry line directly in the media at all times? I’m the selfish one?”

“You have gotten every last bit out of my family and this business and then you go and blow it, getting caught like a fool!”

Your knuckles were turning white with the way you were gripping them under your crossed arms as you looked at him. Your blood was boiling.

“I worked my ass off to provide your family with very successful designs for their line! Remind me again who’s the selfish one!” you spat back in his face, the burn on your tongue feeling like actual flames with how irate you were at this point. “And remind me, what have you done, at all? Have you made any contributions to this business other than providing the media a pretty face to look at?”

He pushed his hand against the door of your apartment and stepped towards you, enough for you to take a few steps back and unfold your arms in the case you had to defend yourself. And you would have, but the rumble behind you that was deep enough, menacing enough to open a rift in the earth’s crust came from behind you.

“Get out,” Joshua threatened, having been standing just behind the door to listen to the exchange. He wanted you to give you your space to deal with it on your own—you deserved to deal with it on your own; it was your position, your designs, your royalties, your contributions to defend. He was there, however, to defend your being.

“You! You are at least half the—”

“Get out!” Joshua repeated, taking a step forward before ripping the magazine from shaking fingers. “I don’t think I have to tell you again. Your little charade is done, and the only one who will suffer is you and you alone. Now get out, or I’ll escort you out.”

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer about this—”

“I don’t think that’s the route you want to go,” you interjected. “I own those designs; I am owed royalties on every sale of those designs; whether you like it or not, I have a legal cut of this company which is not contingent on how successful our media façade is. So, if I’ll be hearing from your lawyer about Joshua who has a legal and contracted right to remove you from my property, then you’ll be hearing from mine, who will bury you.”  

There was a shakiness in your voice, indistinguishable between anger and nerves, as Joshua escorted him out of your home and slammed the door behind him.  You stood just beyond the entryway, safe distance within your house to avoid any conflict, but your shoulders heaved.  You could hear the heavy deadbolt flip, locking the door tight before Joshua turned around to face you. He gave you some space for just a moment, but he wasn’t too keen on leaving you standing there looking like the very life had been sucked from your bones for too long.

“It’s over,” he cooed to you, “you don’t have to hide anymore.”

Your gaze crossed the flooring to his feet and ran up his legs, up his body to his face. His mouth housed a tender smile, eyes soft as he looked over you, and somewhere deep in there he could see the relief, the surfacing of tension to let it all go, and for a fleeting moment, you granted him a soft smile as well before he wistfully crossed the floor to take you against his chest.

“I’m proud of the way you stood your ground. You’ll never have to stand it alone again.”

It seemed like a slightly inclined battle for the first month or so. You did hear from his lawyer, and he heard from yours, and it was a winning battle in court to discuss your role within the business. You came to an agreement to keep a position, much to the dismay of your now ex-business partner, and continue working on designs with minimal pressure, and that, the final marker of the decisions, was the nail in the coffin for all the tension to finally free from your body.  You stood in a mostly empty courtroom in a fine skirt-suit as you awaited the verdict—you were too relieved to cry, but Joshua’s hand squeezing yours almost elicited those tears.

It wasn’t long before you moved in together to settle down.

You spent long nights sometimes in the studio working on big sketchbooks loosely doodling designs across the entire page. A lone lamp that illuminated a desk behind your easel was hardly enough to sustain healthy eyesight, but it never seemed to stop you especially when you were struggling to push sleep away from those eyes.  Often, Joshua slipped out of bed to come find you, well into some hours after he’d retired for the night just to sneak into the studio behind you.

He watched the way your hand effortlessly moved across the page, flicking lines down on the paper to craft those rough sketches he knew would eventually turn into fine pieces of jewelry. You had a knack for it, serious vision for jewelry only the elite could afford.

“It’s not light enough in here for your eyes,” he whispered to you, rubbing his hands along your shoulders and upper arms before he’d dig his thumbs in.

“You tell me that every time,” you reminded him quietly, eyes closing to relish the way he pushed some knots away from your shoulders.  

His chuckle was smooth in your ears, dripping down your spine like refined syrup before he pulled up a stool behind you and nestle his arms around your waist, leaving you free enough to continue to work on some sketches, but not without some attempts at wooing you to leave them.

“Come to bed with me,” he whispered just behind your ear, only to place a couple of kisses against your neck and nuzzle against your jaw.

“Five more minutes,” you replied, only to feel his arms tighten around you.

“I fell for that too many times; I’m not so naïve anymore,” he reminded you. “They’ll be here for you another day.”

“And so will you,” you answered.

“Ouch, so expendable,” he teased, knowing that you were teasing, too.

“Joshua,” you whined as he kissed down your neck and across your shoulder, only lightly clothed by a loose-fitting tee that was slouching off to the side anyway. But he wouldn’t stop. Especially not as he got up to flick the lamp off, the only light remaining for vision was the hallway light outside the door, which was enough for him to scoop you from your stool to bring both your legs up around his waist and your arms to dangle over his shoulders. He could feel the sleepiness in your body, but your stubbornness persisted as you protested some more. He carried you from the small studio room and down the hallway to flick the light off with his elbow before he was gently laying you in the cool sheets of the bed you shared with him, sealing off any further words with a couple of sweet kisses against your unsuspecting lips.

Despite all your hawing a few moments prior, the soothing sheets underneath you coupled with the warm body that was settling in next to you settled you quite a bit when he turned you into him and you settled into his shoulder, the same way you did every night.

#joshua hong #seventeen joshua #joshua scenarios #joshua fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #joshua angst #seventeen angst #joshua imagines #seventeen imagines #joshua oneshot #seventeen oneshot

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Passion Project (3/4)

Summary:

“Ignoring Hange Zoe had become a little passion project he allowed himself to indulge in, in between expeditions and quietly mourning unnecessary deaths in the battlefield.”

Levi tries to ignore Hange but it never seems to last. A ficlet detailing the development of Levi and Hange’s relationship before canon.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other chapters: 1 2 4

Despite having recovered enough, Levi wasn’t permitted to join their next expedition outside the walls.

For assurance. Keith had said.

One day you might just be humanity’s hope. Erwin had added. We don’t want you worsening any of your recent injuries.

Levi had no problem with putting weight on his left ankle nor did he even have trouble, tightening his ribs as he bent forward. He experimented on those old injuries more than enough times to be sure. In fact, when he was all alone in the barracks, he found himself looking for a forest to practice with the ODM gear.

Shift your weight a little forward so you won’t use too much gas.

When you dash, make sure to tense your back. Try to curl it a bit as you move forward.

Only after the initial dash can you relax.

She had been right. By just changing where he shifted his weight, how he positioned his back and by just keeping in mind at which moments up he should tense up or relax, he was able to make the whole process of sailing through the air in ODM gear a little easier. He could not tell then, but he might have even been going faster.

The scenery changed too fast around him as he zipped through the trees. Contours around him quickly blurred into hazy afterimages so quickly and so unfamiliarly Levi could easily pretend he was elsewhere. He could pretend he wasn’t letting out pent up frustration at his inability to do much for the survey corps but watch from the crowds as the gates of Wall Rose opened up to Wall Maria territory and then outside Wall Maria, titan territory and as his fellow soldiers disappeared outside the walls.

The exercises in the forest only acted as a temporal reprieve. Levi could have been practicing for almost a whole day by the time the cannister lightened to an almost dangerous weight.

Levi hurriedly landed before gravity did the job for him. At the same moment, his senses started to get used to the mundane surroundings of the forest once again, Levi started to welcome, albeit unwillingly, the pent up frustrations, the tensions and something else.

Hange was out on the expedition as well and Levi reminded himself only a while ago that she was still there in the small pieces of advice that lingered in his mind as he dashed from tree to tree.

She wouldn’t die that easily. Levi assured himself. She was the one after all who had given that same advice which had him so freely zipping through even the most aberrant trees.

Probably won't be able to maneuver as well as you though.

Levi’s stomach dropped as he recalled that passing comment from Hange. It brought to light once again the stark reality of being part of the survey corps. Any one of them can die anytime and Hange was no exception.

He found himself grateful to the black tea she had given and the past self that had given in to her incessant pleas for some extra one-on-one training. For the first time, he found himself grateful for her having taken the initiative to approach him every single time.

He didn’t believe in any god. Regardless, in the middle of the dark forest, he leaned on one of the wider tree trunks, looked to the starry sky and prayed. He prayed that somehow, every training session he had given her would amount to something.

God knows she might just need it.

                                Passion Project

For almost a few hours, Levi actually believed Hange could have been dead.

Word recently reached the barracks that the survey corps had just come back from their mission. Soon after that, chaos ensued, so much chaos that that had been his first conclusion. It was as if his mind just wanted to rationalize the worst case scenario which came with the unpredictable and almost unintelligible chain of events.

It turned out his worst case scenario wasn’t actually the worst case scenario that the chaos had brought with it.

Wall Maria had fallen and refugees were coming into Wall Rose by the hundreds of thousands. The barracks were deeper into Wall Rose though and word had only come to Levi when the deed had already been done. Hundreds of thousands had been killed. The culprits have disappeared and the crown made the executive decision to surrender Wall Maria to the titans.

Levi did not see the refugees first hand until a day after he received the news. He had gotten a bit curious though and went to the main road one day to see hopeless faces in carts en route to Wall Sina, possibly the underground city.

No. Definitely the underground city. None of the higher ups from Wall Sina would have let refugees live above ground there after all.

Soon after he caught wind on the outrageous turn of events and when his mind finally came to terms with the unfathomable disaster that had just occurred, the survey corps finally arrived from their mission and had settled into the barracks.

They had apparently gotten caught in one of the refugee camps in the outer districts of Wall Rose which delayed their homecoming.

To Levi’s relief despite the overwhelming chaos he had found himself caught up in, Hange came back home alive, uninjured and safe. He didn’t even have the mental or emotional space to be relieved for too long though. The topsy-turvydom that came with the fall of Wall Maria set up with it, a chain of events even within the survey corps that left Levi unable to consider Hange’s state.

At least, for a while.

                                     Passion Project

Within the next month, the Survey Corps underwent some major restructuring as the sector assigned with the almost impossible task of taking back the wall. Levi was transferred to a mainly combat role as soon as his injuries were deemed healed and suddenly Hange was not around as much anymore.

It should have been a comfortable reprieve from the loud brunette.

It never felt like one though, and Levi found himself wondering what she was doing during his own downtimes having busied himself with training and eventually having to train new recruits. After a few months though, the repetitive ODM training of the other members assigned to combat started to bore him and Levi spent what was supposed to be his training time, doing his own research on where Hange may have been assigned.

He was aware he could have easily asked Erwin or Mike. God forbid anyone thought I actually cared about that four eyes. Levi thought to himself as he instead decided to classify that research as part of the passion project, he had abandoned months ago.

He couldn't teach her about real life if he couldn't get to meet her right? He wouldn’t be able to teach her about ODM gear tricks he learned. Soon he even found out, he hadn’t even caught up with her on the latest improvements he had made to his own fighting style thanks to her feedback.

Unbelievably, he was starting to get a bit interested in what had gotten her so occupied. She had done a complete 180. Months ago she probably would have been the one to take the initiative.

A new role? A new passion project? A lover? He did remember she mentioned having proposals sent off to Erwin. He found himself threatening no one in particular, thinking to himself that the research better be worth something if she had so willingly changed her personality for it.

His own personal research on the whereabouts of Hange turned out to be a little unnecessary though because soon enough, Erwin was named the new commander of the Survey corps. Levi quickly rose to the rank of Captain and he was begrudgingly happy to find out that Hange had also recently been promoted to the squad leader for research and logistics.

Leadership meetings and strategy meetings every week meant that once again, the two soldiers were seeing each other on a regular basis. That also meant, Hange had gotten back into the habit of enthusing about some new combat strategy or some new invention she was developing with a conveniently placed yet a seemingly disinterested Levi.

Levi noticed as well that with her rise to a higher position, Hange started to open up a bit. A whole team had become an object and an audience to her rants. He only started to notice then that outside of the both of them, she had made some good bonds outside of what they shared.

There was one blonde in particular who followed her everywhere more often and it turned out he was her second in command, Moblit. Hange had pointed out that she had been friends with Moblit for longer than that.

Then why did he only notice Moblit now? Why was his mind suddenly racing in so many different directions at once, analyzing Hange’s warm interactions with her new found family and her second-in-command in particular?

She was taking care of her team and she was asking them the same questions with that same enthusiasm she had given him over tea so many times before. He couldn’t help but conclude that there was an inflation of kindness on her end, a Hange-flation. She was suddenly friendly to everyone, suddenly a parental figure to the recruits under her. Levi started to wonder of their long nights over had been anything special or if they were just a little convenience Hange had indulged herself in

And that’s how it’s supposed to be. Levi was supposed to be celebrating that development if he did care about her. He decided to let that green-eyed monster keep him company for a while longer though because it was just that much easier than letting it go.

At least the titans never had that problem Levi thought to himself that one night as he pondered the changes of their relationship.

During meetings, when she did alternate between enthusing about it with Moblit or him, he would notice her eyes never glimmered or sparkled at any one of them in particular. Her eyes were constantly smiling, her face was constantly turned up. It was at the mention of that one word which peppered all their conversations though where the sparkle in her eyes had been most apparent.

Titans.

At three in the morning, unable to sleep, Levi found himself envying those mindless eating giants for having such a lasting effect on Hange. And that envy actually had him more than eager to cut each and every single one of their napes during missions.

And eventually, those conflicting feelings brought him back to her. Within a year’s worth of expedition, Levi was deemed their strongest and fastest soldier and at Erwin’s orders ended up cooperating with Hange to test whatever new invention her squad came up with.

Did that type of metal pierce into titan skin?

Can the flash bomb made with this material actually blind titans?

Can the sound grenade deafen the titans?

The first of what was said to be many experiments consisted of Levi jumping down from on top of Wall Rose pelting titans with whatever latest invention they had while Hange’s assistants took notes.

Seven titans had swarmed that area of the wall and despite being surrounded by all of them, Levi did not feel at all that his life was in danger. In fact, he had actually felt a little more pressure from hearing Hange’s excited screams more than anything else.

“Can you check if this new material over here makes it easier to slice a titan’s nape?”

How the hell was he even supposed to test that? “Yeah I guess?” Levi answered. He killed two titans for that experiment and the movement had been too quick and too routine for Levi to consider such a subtle nuance in the titan killing process.

Even from more than ten feet below, as he held on to the wall by the cables of his ODM gear and the balls of his feet lightly planted on the surface, he recognized her disappointment when he answered in the way she narrowed her eyes and the way she kept silent for a few more seconds, a stark contrast to the excitable tone she maintained as they made their journey to the walls on Trost District.

I’ll try this myself next time then. Her voice was notably softer when she said it. Her voice though had a low timbre to it which made it recognizable and easy to listen to even a few feet down below. When he overheard it, he was also on his way back up to drop the proto-type blades Hange had wanted checked.

“Give me the rest of the fucking weapons you want to test.”

Testing the sound grenade and the flash grenade were easy. In fact, the hardest part for Levi had been making sure the titans stayed alive to witness both. Killing all of them on the spot had been the easier and more tempting option.

As soon as the smoke cleared at least and Levi scaled back up the walls, he heard the howls of excitement from Hange and he was sure he hadn’t disappointed then at least.

“Great job Levi! It looks like we might be able to use the sound grenade by our next mission,” Hange said, reaching out to high five Levi as he reached the top of the wall.

Levi ignored that. Go high five a titan instead. He wouldn’t have dared say that out loud though. For fear that Hange might just take that comment seriously.

Instead, he willed himself to avoid her gaze which he felt followed him and could even confirm from his peripherals as he sat back down on the wall a little exhausted having tested their three inventions of the night.

As he listened to the carefree way she rattled off observations and exchanged ideas with Moblit and her other squad members, he thought for a moment about the implications of humoring Hange and letting her indulge in her passion project. He quickly justified it though. It was Erwin their commander after all who had lightly suggested they cooperate in the development of new weapons given both their talents.

Orders are orders. Levi shrugged.

That night ended with them walking back to the Trost barracks with Hange next to him raving non-stop about Levi's skill then raving to Moblit about the improvements she would make.

That night, Hange served that same black tea, that same royal brand she had bribed him with their first tea night, a welcome sequel to other memories long ago.

And the routine of Levi and Hange from long ago had been revived, despite both their positions in the military. Although the experiments replaced their training sessions from their first years in the survey corps and most nights they were joined by Hange’s squad. Levi saw consistency in the black tea she served him after every single night of experiments without fail. He saw it as well in the later hours of the night when her team retires for the night.

During those short three hour long rests when it was just the two of them talking as if they were rookies again, Levi was at least reminded that she still saw value in interacting with him, even if he was probably second to the titans.

                                 Passion Project

Within a year or so, the survey corps had developed enough weapons and enough of a reputation.  Levi was given an opportunity to select team members for a special operations squad and his responsibilities only grew from there and his time for experiments dwindled.

He did miss the nights experimenting on titans with the research and development team and the nights spent just listening to the development team discuss the changes they were going to make for their weapon of the week.

The new developments within the survey corps and the new responsibilities Levi was given though had him distracted. There were even days that he did not think of Hange beyond the occasional collaboration work with the research and logistics squad

That establishment of the special squad gave Levi the opportunity to branch out from his confusing relationship with Hange. He slowly grew into the role of captain and started to care for each member of his team personally.

He couldn't help but notice something missing through the small details, particularly in the way they interacted with him. They called him "captain." They never forgot their please's and thank you's when talking to him. They never ordered anything from him.

They wouldn’t, I’m their captain. Oddly though, Levi started to miss Hange's ridiculous demands with little care for his time and convenience.

WIth Hange’s station so close to his, he had little excuse not to pay a visit every now and then. And he made sure to pay those visits.

Hange had busied herself with new titan research and the long nights with black tea had dwindled to a weekly or every-other-week occurrence. A much less frequent event from back when they were rookies. It was for good reason. They both had their own teams to manage after all.

Most of the conversations though started to shift to questions on titans then crackpot theories after. They were still as close as ever or that was at least what Levi wanted to believe. He couldn’t help but note though the wonder in her eyes and the way she would stare at nothing in particular, especially in those moments.

“Why do you like them so much?” Levi had asked one day, when the discussion of titans and her overly enthusiastic expression left him a little more self conscious than usual.

Hange locked eyes at him for a good few seconds before looking elsewhere, possibly trying to grasp for the right words. In the few seconds that she was looking at him, Levi at least caught it and had the time to appreciate it.

“Well… They’re interesting. They’re mysterious.”

The interestingness and the mysteriousness of titans was what grabbed Hange’s focus most days. When Levi showed up at her HQ or her research lab for their bimonthly tea dates, he would always have to pick her up in the lab. And that was one of the reasons why he had been the witness to the source of Hange’s passion

Some nights the passion had Hange a little obsessed, a little crazy and ignoring her basic needs. Moblit brought her dinner every night so he never had to worry about her food intake the days he did visit. One thing Moblit had trouble doing was taking her in for a bath.

And Levi made it his duty at least to make sure Hange had a weekly bath. Even if he had to knock her out to do it.

Even while in the bath, Hange continued to ramble on about titans. Some topics were rehashes others were new. Of course they’re mysterious and interesting. The fact that she could come up with a new topic every time was a testament to just that.

For some reason, Levi started to wonder whether or not he was interesting and mysterious too.

                                    Passion Project

One year into the formation of his new squad, Hange proposed a new plan.

"Let's capture a titan!"

It was a breath of fresh air to finally hear someone demand something while at the same time completely disregarding social norms and military standards. More importantly, it was a breath of fresh air that knocked some sense back to him, reminding him of his passion project that had been on hiatus for a long while.

Levi was the strongest soldier in the survey corps if not the strongest soldier humanity had to offer. Under him, he had a competent group of soldiers that would have been more than enough to capture the titans Hange would need for her research. His support would have also fast tracked the approvals from Erwin.

Levi was aware of all that and thus, completely understood why Hange was so insistent that he cooperate with her in the first place.

As an individual, he did want the excuse to spend more time with Hange. As a captain, while the plan was immature, he had to consider the welfare of his own squad. As a self-proclaimed close friend of Hange, did he really want to capture her a titan so he had more of an excuse to ignore him than what they already had? If he did capture her a titan, would he ever be able to see her again?

Outweighing the costs and the benefits, Levi went for ‘no’ which had won by a landslide in his mind.

That request, his new status and his musings all brought him back to his passion project of a few years ago. That project became his inspiration once again as he braced himself for the whining and begging he had almost missed.

For a while, Levi was worried that she would attempt to bribe him with black tea leaves.

Hange proved to be a soldier of honor though. It was as if they both silently understood and agreed, the lives of Levi's special squad and any soldier who would be involved in the capture process would not have been worth that black tea.

                                         Passion Project

Once again, she was talking to him like she hadn’t ignored him for her other research so many times the past few years.

Of course she’s talking to me. It’s for fucking titans.

The motivation behind the sudden regular messages she’s been sending through Moblit and the regular visits she made to his headquarters would have been a welcome sight any other day. He saw the reasons behind it though and any positive emotions that could have been felt from that were soured by his speculations on her motivations alone.

Scrambling for something more positive out of it, Levi went back to what his past self knew best. Ignore Hange. And just imagining that unwavering steady relationship she had with the titans made that all the easier. It was not like she would care anyway if he ignored her.

He had ended up tuning her out all the way until their next expedition with plans to ease the silent treatment by the start of the next expedition. He had hoped the excitement of starting the 49th expedition would have distracted her enough from her titan capturing plans.

It turned out to have only gotten worse.

"Hey Levi."

"I'm not doing it"

Levi did not need to look at her to know what she was going to ask. Processing Hange's many demands over the years had gotten him used to the way her tone modulates when she makes her ridiculous requests.

"I haven't even said anything."

"You wanted my help capturing a titan right?" Levi asked, not even bothering to look at her. Of course he wouldn't, he couldn't even tell what face he was making as he stared blankly at the gate. “I told you, I'm not gonna help you out with that hassle of a favor."

She soon moved on to asking Mike.

                                         Passion Project

At first Erwin had disapproved. Levi had his own reservations about it as well, especially after almost losing one of his squadmates in the process.

After having found the notebook chronicling an encounter of a former soldier and a titan, Hange had gotten the required approvals which overpowered whatever feedback Levi would have had about it, personal or non-personal and Levi and his squad eventually got roped into the titan capture mission.

Hange had done her fair share of the research and preparation and the capture was quick and Levi had at least braced himself already for the cold snap that was going to come between them as Hange closed the long distance relationship she had with the love of her life.

He could hang out with Petra, Eld, Oluo and Gunther anyway.

Within a few weeks after that capture mission, Levi's squad ended up roped into another titan subjugation mission. It was within the walls when Hange’s titan got loose in the barracks.

Levi’s Special Operations Squad were staying back at the old survey corps headquarters when it happened. Erwin had sent a messenger to them demanding their help within an hour of the incident. With the amount of time it took to prepare their weapons and close the distance between those two locations, by the time, the five of them did arrive, the whole lab of Hange and the nearby rooms had been trashed.

Fortunately, most of the people present when the incident happened were battle hardened soldiers and they had kept casualties to the minimum of zero. With zero casualties, Levi at least then had the luxury to hyper fixate on more superficial things.

Like the mess the survey corps headquarters had turned into. The titan had been kept outdoors but it did look like the titan had gotten far. The entrance to the actual barracks was destroyed. The large door had been torn off its hinges, the door frames and some of the support on the ceiling had fallen over. The wallpaper towards the entrance had been peeled off in some areas and the floor was covered with sawdust.

Levi found himself having to remove his cravat and put it over his face just to comfortably pass through. There were broken glasswares on the floor, broken beakers and he traced them all back to Hange’s indoor lab.

A familiar stench lingered in the air, one he had smelled too many times on horseback, in open air during expeditions. Indoors, it was stronger and even with his cravat pressed close to his nose, he considered it far worse than what he would have encountered right next to its source.

The dissolution of a dead titan cut at its nape.

Levi heard the soft clatter of glass on wood before he saw Hange who was slowly organizing some broken glass on the center table of her room.

Hange’s research lab has always been messy and overtime, Levi had gotten used to it and had managed at least to muster the self discipline to curtail whatever natural impulse he had to clean it. It messed with her thinking process apparently.

The room he had walked into was much messier than he could have ever imagined messiness to look like. Many of the corners of the room had records, chemicals, test subjects, all damaged beyond recognition. Levi kept silent, only feeling the rage boil in his stomach as he saw it. He had tried to distract himself by looking through the room for any signs of at least some order.

“Squad leader, what... happened?” It was Petra who had broken the silence, asking what Levi had wanted to ask if he hadn’t been a little too focused on trying to keep his cool.

“We didn’t really have time to prepare the ODM gear so we had to be a little creative,” Hange explained. No one wore ODM gear inside the walls unless they were training so of course, they couldn’t prepare.

“I led the titan here, so it would be easier to capture him. Then I had him take the sleeping draught then my squad ambushed him from behind. We managed to minimize casualties so I’d still call it a success.” Hange let out a small laugh. “Thanks for still coming.”

Hange only continued from there as everyone else in the room listened in silence. Levi noticed it then. The crack in her voice and the twinge of sadness in her tone.

“But really… I didn’t want to kill him. The sleeping draught I used though is in a prototype stage so Erwin didn’t want to take any risks transporting him back to the tent we set up outside. It was a shame really. I was getting to know Cody already.”

Cody? The titan had a fucking name? Levi stood in silence, wanting the anger to wash through him before he talked to her. The implication of the name and the sardonic tone of Hange had him impatient.

“Condolences… Squad leader,” Oluo said, a little too awkwardly.

Hange let out a long and deep sigh. “I guess we’re going to have to capture a new one huh? Then I’m going to have to build this bond all over again from scratch.”

It was a combination of the message of her last few words and the crack in her voice that made Levi look up. It was the red in her face, her tear stained cheeks and the swollen eyes behind her glasses that made him set aside all attempts at a more peaceful confrontation. Before he could stop himself, Levi had looked up at Hange and approached her, taking strides much larger than he ever had before.

Levi grabbed Hange by the collar and held her close. “Stop taking advantage of this war against titans for your superficial desires. Stop roping the whole damn survey corp into your petty plans. Fucking hell Hange, one day you’re gonna get someone killed over your stupid little passion project!”

Hange’s face was so close to his at that moment, yet it was still far enough for Levi to see the split second shift from surprise to a mixture of befuddlement and possibly anger. "A passion project? You think this search for the secret behind titans to a passion project?"

“It’s a fucking passion project. All you’re doing with this petty obsession of yours is risking lives. It hadn’t gotten you anywhere and you’re not even getting anywhere substantial anytime soon.”

Levi was certain he was right about that first part. Hange hasn't made much progress besides figuring out the weaknesses of titans. The research on weaknesses has proven to be useful on the battlefield. With the capturing of titans, Levi knew Hange had been delving into the more complex and more mysterious origin of titans.

From the intel he had gotten, casually asking Moblit about Hange or nonchalantly visiting the research lab on his two off days a month, he knew Hange was still on square one. And how long since the capture mission? A month? If there was something worth finding beyond the dead soldier's notebook, Hange would have found it already.

Hange’s gripped Levi’s wrist. “Maybe if you didn’t kill the abnormal titan back then, we would have made a breakthrough.”

“They’re all the same mindless fucking giants ready to kill every single one of us.” With his brain muddled, Levi was scrambling for an argument. Why was he suddenly feeling guilty over killing a titan?

“They’re all the same? Really Levi? What do you know? All you did was kill them. I ate with Cody. I talked to him. I slept with him. I bathed him…" Hange's grip on his wrist was only getting tighter as she talked, and with it, the knot in his chest. "Cody was different."

Cody was a titan. He had to remind himself while at the same time, resisting the sharp pain on his wrist as Hange grip harder.

He locked eyes with her, attempting to trace the tears down all the way until her cheeks. Had she ever cried for someone like that? Had she ever mourned a death like that? He found himself stuck on her eyes though. The wonder in them was gone, replaced by a sort of wildness. It felt like he was talking to a different person.

Hange had always been eccentric. She had always been unpredictable. Levi ended up having to scold himself for being so invested in the phantom man the name Cody had manifested, and that petty annoyance that conjured up inside him at the details of Hange’s mini affair with a titan.

Is that what passion is? Or is that obsession? Levi started to wonder if his own eyes had ever looked that wild. If he had ever done something so stupid as to clandestinely or openly micromanage someone’s life, overthink the details down to miniscules, seeing the hope for truth in theories and hypotheses.

Or did Hange just have a little screw loose up there? Either way, Levi felt pathetic. It could have been from first hand embarrassment or second hand embarrassment. He could feel the blood rushing through his cheeks though and he felt the need to just suddenly vacate the room and be alone.

If Levi didn't look away quickly enough, he probably would have forgotten to breathe. "I'm not talking to you anymore. Go figure this out for yourself.”

“I'm not letting any of my men get killed over this,” He added a little later, a pathetic attempt to add some professionalism to the conversation between captain and squad leader.

For the first time as he walked away, there were no annoying protests or arguments from an overexcitable Hange Zoe. And for the first time after so many times before, Levi wasn’t hoping she’d follow him.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi x hange #levi x hanji #fanfic

[wherever-the-chaos-is]

Lan Wangji’s communication skills and other misunderstandings

I think Lan Wangji is good at talking and can express himself well. But he restrains himself from speaking his mind and his heart for various reasons or would prefer to express his intentions through action. Just because he’s quiet and introverted, doesn’t mean he’s bad at communicating.

I know there’s already a post explaining how Lan Wangji’s speech works in Chinese in terms of syntax and pragmatics, and I think that this can be translated well in English (or in other languages). To be able to pack as much meaning in as few words as possible and to be able to adjust your speech according to the receiver are such huge signs of intelligence, wit, and skill in any language, which is something Lan Wangji is able to accomplish.

Some of my favorite descriptions related to Lan Wangji’s way of expressing himself are the following:

Chapter 73:

"Lan WangJi rarely spoke when he was outside. Even when they debated cultivation techniques during Discussion Conferences, he only answered when others questioned or challenged him. With utmost concision, he overcame, without fault, the lengthy arguments of others. Apart from this, he almost never spoke up."

Chapter 120:

"It definitely wasn’t out of cutting corners that Lan WangJi’s comments were short. He wouldn’t slack off in the slightest way, no matter how simple the task was. Rather, it was his habit to be as concise as possible, no matter in words or writing." 

Chapter 94:

"Looking at him, Wei WuXian felt a place in his heart go soft. He also thought it was funny. This one’d been like this ever since he was young. When he wanted something, he never said anything on the surface, but rather chased after it as much as he could in his actions."

Chapter 64:

Wei WuXian, “If he doesn’t wish to talk about something then I won’t ask.”

Lan XiChen, “But, with WangJi’s personality, how could he say anything if you do not ask? There are some things that even if you ask him he would not say.”

Chapter 126:

Wei WuXian, “That’s more like it. Just say it if you want some. You’ve really been like this ever since you were young, holding everything in and never saying what you want.”

In chapters 54 and 55, Lan Wangji talks so much after having been pushed to his physical and mental limits, answering Wei Wuxian’s remarks in anger and frustration. Lan Wangji also talks at length when he tells a story or relays information like when he tells the public version of Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, and Xue Yang’s story in Chapter 29 and when he tells Wei Wuxian all about the Xuanwu of Slaughter also in chapters 54 and 55 (Seriously, go read those chapters. I can’t even quote it because Lan Wangji talks a lot and they have probably their longest conversations in the book in those chapters.)

Lan Wangji is also perceptive enough to know when he will not be understood the way he intends and can adjust himself well. 

Chapter 74:

Lan WangJi, “Speech is forbidden when dining.”

For Wen Yuan to understand, he repeated it again using simpler language, “Do not talk when you are eating.”

Wen Yuan quickly nodded and buried himself in the soup, not saying anything anymore.

When he is nervous, he can get a bit tongue-tied like the average person:

Chapter 111:

Lan WangJi stared straight at him. Something strange glowed in his eyes. He started, “Then…”

Wei WuXian, “Then what? Stopping in the middle of the sentence isn’t your style, Lan Zhan.”

To offer some comparison, Wei Wuxian who is even wittier, more verbose and just generally more talkative, also gets tongue-tied when nervous:

Chapter 95:

The surging heat finally began to retreat. Wei WuXian’s head was still dizzy as he rambled on, “In these two lives, you’ve helped me a lot. I know you’re… really nice to me. You’re really great! Apart from thank you, I don’t know what else to say to you… Anyways, towards you, I feel… I feel…”

But this wasn’t the point at all. Wei WuXian had never confessed like this to anyone before. Even someone whose face was as thick as his felt a bit embarrassed. He could only first pick a few random things to say. Just as he was thinking how to explain himself to make it sound sincere and serious when Lan WangJi suddenly pushed him away.

But once he is comfortable with someone or when his reasons for restraining himself are gone, he will speak his mind and heart. We can see this when he freely talks to Lan Xichen about the things Wei Wuxian has shared with him in Chapter 125. He can also be witty and a bit sassy, especially in the present time, as we can see everytime he throws Wei Wuxian’s words back at him or even makes subtle digs at Wei Wuxian:

Chapter 21:

After a few moments, the strings played two notes on their own. Wei WuXian quickly asked, “What did it say?”

Lan WangJi, “I do not know.”

Wei WuXian, “What?”

Lan WangJi replied in an unhurried manner, “It said, ‘I do not know’.”

“…” Wei WuXian looked at him, suddenly remembering a conversation about “whatever” a few years ago. Touching his nose, he was at a loss for words, and thought, Lan Zhan is so bright. He even learned how to make me speechless.

Chapter 25:

Suddenly, one of Lan WangJi’s arms wrapped around his back and, as Lan WangJi bent down slightly, another went toward the back of his knees.

[...] Carrying him, Lan WangJi both walked and replied to him steadily, “You said that you didn’t want to be carried on my back.”

Wei WuXian, “I didn’t say that I wanted to be carried like this either.”

Chapter 45:

Wei WuXian was also shocked. He turned to Lan WangJi, “Your sect makes disciples do handstands while copying? That’s awful.”

Lan WangJi replied calmly, “There would always be someone who did not learn their lessons by simply copying the sect rules. Handstands not only guaranteed better performance in the future but also benefited cultivation.”

Of course, Wei WuXian was the someone who never learnt his lessons. He pretended as though he didn’t know what Lan WangJi was talking about. (Chapter 45)

. He can even be smooth as shown in Chapter 126:

“Be honest about whether or not you thought about me in the same way.” In a solemn tone, he spoke, “Rejecting me like that so coldly every single time—it really made me lose face, don’t you know?”

Lan WangJi, “You can try, now, to see if I would reject you over anything.”

The sentence so suddenly struck his heart. Wei WuXian choked, yet Lan WangJi was still as calm as ever, as though he didn’t at all realize what he just said. Wei WuXian put his hand to his forehead, “You… HanGuang-Jun, let’s make a deal. Please warn me before you say something so romantic, or else I won’t be able to take it.”

Regarding his feelings for Wei Wuxian, apart from that moment in the cave after the Nightless City massacre, I don’t think he ever intended for Wei Wuxian to know his feelings since Wei Wuxian already told him he was straight (Chapter 54: "Don’t worry—I don’t like men, I won’t take advantage of the opportunity and do anything to you.”) and then kept giving him mixed signals wherein Wei Wuxian would flirt with him but then pass it off as a joke. Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian did not remember that one time Lan Wangji wanted Wei Wuxian know how he felt, which causes much of their misunderstanding in the present.

I would also like to point out that Wangxian didn't really have a miscommunication during that time as Wei Wuxian would acknowledge Lan Wangji's concern and basically go "Thanks, but no thanks. You’re wrong and I have everything under control." In fact, they actually reach an understanding in this conversation in Chapter 75:

A moment later, Wei WuXian spoke up, “Lan Zhan, you asked me if I intended on staying like this from now on. To be honest, I’d like to ask something as well. What can I do apart from this?”

He continued, “Give up the demonic path? Then what about the people on this mountain?

“Give them up? I won’t be able to do it. I believe that if you were I, you wouldn’t be able to do it either.”

He continued, “Nobody can give me a nice, broad road to walk on. A road where I could protect those I want to protect without having to cultivate the ghostly path.”

Lan WangJi gazed at him. He didn’t reply, but both of them knew the answer in their hearts.

There was no such road.

Look how smooth he is after he and Wei Wuxian got married. He finally knows and feels that he can freely express his love to Wei Wuxian in words, and he does just that in his elegant manner of speech

We can see here that Wei Wuxian has made his decision and all Lan Wangji could do is to respect it as a mere outsider in Wei Wuxian’s life.

In the present time, they have a misunderstanding but it is not borne from the lack of ability to express themselves. Rather, it is due to Wei Wuxian's impaired memory. Add to that the fact that Wei Wuxian has already made assumptions about Lan Wangji that are actually not completely true as we are shown throughout the novel. At this point also, Lan Wangji has already been rejected and pushed away many times and is under the impression that Wei Wuxian already knows his true feelings.

In conclusion, Lan Wangji can express himself well. It’s just that he’s quiet and prefers action over words. Communication or expressing one’s self is more than just the skill of being able to put your thoughts and feelings into words. There’s plenty of other reasons why someone might not be saying something. Conflicts in the novel are much more complex and aren’t just because of mere miscommunication or inability to talk and express themselves properly. Not all problems are resolved in a way that both parties unite and end up on the same side. Differences in judgments and views happen and the only resolution is just to agree to disagree.

#meta #lan wangji #lan zhan #lwj #wei wuxian #wei ying #wwx #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #gdc #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #my post

[umikawa]

Comfort Headcanons

This is primarily for Non-binary/gender non-conforming etc. readers, AFAB in this scenario. Forget that things they do post... forget it, it never existed. Also, I can make one for AMAB if you would want them, would probably make them either way once i do more research :))

Warnings: Unsupportive peers, borderline transphobia (NOT from characters), gender dysphoria, gender envy, periods, top surgery, injections (T), coming out (?)

Characters: Yukie, Watari, Daishou, Daichi, Suna, Iwaizumi, Kita, Yamagata, Mika, Bokuto, Sakusa, Matsukawa.  

Not proofread, sorry, was going and didn’t stop.

YUKIE

It’s that time of the month, she can tell by the way your shoulders slouch and the depressed look on your face. 

Doesn’t think twice about rushing to your side, shoving food at your face as she hugs you. Yes, it's uncomfortable because she shoved an entire onigiri in your face then immediately hugged your shoulders. 

At home she’ll pull you between her legs and rub your stomach, she probably has one of those stuffed animal heating things. 

If you start feeling/having gender dysphoria during your period, she’ll start kissing your face all over while whispering she loves you over and over again. 

WATARI

Gender dysphoria, biggest enemy in my eyes. 

He’s concerned right off the bat, he noticed the way your behavior changed the moment your ears picked up on murmurs about your outfit. He doesn’t understand why people bother talking about clothes, clothes have no gender so why is everyone talking about you? 

He’ll pull you away from everyone and hug you under a tree, rubbing your back to calm you down. “I don’t get it Shinji, do people just- do they still see me as a girl?” His heart breaks at your tone, you sound so defeated. 

He’ll tell you to ignore them but he knows it's hard to. Tells you everyday he loves you and that he’ll be there for you always. Though if there were a crowd of people saying things and he’s feeling bold, he’ll press his hands against your ears and kiss you in front of everyone. 

DAISHOU

Starting T, scary.

Whether it’s the injection, patch, or gel, daishou is there to help. While he won’t be doing it for you he’ll hold your hand the entire time you do it, if you do the injection he’ll ignore the strong grip you have that nearly breaks his hand. (me bye.)

During the physical and mental tests you’d have to take beforehand, he’ll be the one taking you, of course unless you start this before you’re 18, he’ll tag along.

He’d take process photos for you so that once there’s a significant change, you two can watch how far you’ve grown together. 

DAICHI

Top surgery. Gosh so expensive…

He’d take you there if you ask him, though if you ask your legal guardian he’ll just tag along and hold your hand whispering you’re gonna do great. 

After the procedure he’d tell you you did so well, and if you start crying he’s kissing your tears away. He’ll take care of you so well but he’d sleep on the floor because he’s scared he might make you uncomfortable or touch your wounds too soon.

The first time you take off your shirt so freely, he almost cries at the way you smile. Pulls you by the waist to kiss your scars and lets a few tears slip from his eyes. 

SUNA

Wearing a binder, comfortable yet also uncomfortable!

When you first get it he’s sitting on the bathroom counter as you put it on, cackling loudly once you look at yourself in the mirror. (me)

He’s reading the instruction card that came with it and he may or may not have stolen the sticker too but besides the point. “Work on better posture.” Cackling stops and you just blink at him, “Rin, if i have to work on my posture so do you!” 

If you’re forgetful don’t remember to take breaks, he’s calling you to scream at you for not remembering. Suna, be my personal reminder. 

IWAIZUMI

TransTape. 

He looked into another option for you, if you didn’t necessarily feel comfortable with a binder and found it. He read through everything, warnings, reviews, how it began, nearly emailed the founder too. 

He’d help you put it on, asking if it felt okay, if you were fine and if anything was bothering you, all of that. Supportive all the way through. When taking it off he read that it could hurt, so if you need to hold his arm or something he won't mind the death grip.

His heart swells when you get out of the shower with a grin in just his sweatpants, not even missing the sight of you in his shirts. 

KITA

The haircut. 

Now if your hair was already short to begin with (pixie, bob, shoulders.) but you wanted it shorter, he just flat out says, “why not shave your head.” But if you have long hair, he asks if he can cut some of it before you go somewhere professional. 

He’s supportive, everyone is. If you get it without him knowing and show up to his house or school with your hair shorter or in a “typical men's haircut” he’ll suppress that feeling of wanting to jump on you. (ik in Japan it's normal for women to have short hair shh.)

I know he’s stoic most of the time but he’s a big goofball, at home he’d keep trying to use an absurd amount of hair gel to give you a mohawk. 

YAMAGATA

The tuxedo. As you can see I've run out of ideas.

Listen, the first time you brought up going to mens warehouse to get fitted for a tux, he’s been drooling. 

Tugs you to the store and keeps shaking his head at the suits you’ve tried on, babe, just tell them you want them to wear an all black suit. He does. 

Will get on his knees when he sees you, probably makes a red carpet from construction paper. 

MIKA

Gender Envy. Ha, i forgot about this one. (i switched tabs to go to crunchyroll and miyuki chose violence)

Anyways, You two are watching some show, anime, attack on titan because i make the rules, howl’s moving castle if you relate. Boom that one guy comes on and she’s whipping her head to you wondering why you’re crying.

“I wanna look like him so bad it hurts.” Pulls you into her chest, and just tells you you’ll be okay, she doesn’t know how to react in these situations, but she’ll look up on what you’re feeling and try to help in any way she can.

Will buy you a wig, actually, she’ll make you an entire cosplay dedicated to that character but it's so spot on. Screaming when you start crying and ruin the makeup she spent so much time on. Cries with you.

BOKUTO

Coming out to him. 

At first he won’t understand why your hands are shaking so much when you sit him  down to talk. Then he just starts getting worried you’re going to break up with him which makes the situation so much worse in your head. 

And when you tell him you’re non-binary/gender non-comforming/transgender/etc. He lets out a breath because he thought it’d be a break up. Quickly regains his composure to hug you tightly and reassure you he loves you and every aspect of you and that he’ll be your number one supporter. 

Makes sure everyone knows your new pronouns, new name, if you’re okay with it. Fends off people who try to criticize you for making a big decision like that, doesn’t hesitate to tell them he wants to spike a volleyball in their face for that comment.

SAKUSA

Change of name. 

Another person whose initial thought is that you’re going to break up with him and is relieved when not. At first he didn’t understand why you were so hesitant to tell him but then he remembers that something like that isn’t easy at all. 

Corrects anyone and everyone when they get your name wrong, so ready to defend you. He’ll hesitate to throw hands but if someone is still trying to pick on you, he’ll provoke them enough so they throw the first swing, then use the self-defense excuse. (go omi omi!)

If you decide to change your name again, he’ll do the same thing all over again. He knows it isn’t easy to choose one so if you’re indecisive he’ll test with you. 

MATSUKAWA

Pronoun change.

You’re just in his room, laying on his bed when you bring it up. “Issei, can you refer to me with they/them pronouns?” his head just whips over to you but he tries to calm himself and says yes. 

If you continue to question it and go from she/her to she/they, he’ll stare down anyone who gets it wrong. When you finally go to they/them, he corrects people when they’re wrong, doesn’t matter if they’re still talking, you can hear his monotone voice just saying “they.” while they’re talking. 

Always says that comment that's pretty popular. “Their pronouns are they/them but i wanna be they/theirs” 

#hello again. #NYAHAhAh #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #so many characters to tag oh no #yukie shirofuku x reader #watari shinji x reader #daishou suguru x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #suna rintaro x reader #iwaizumi haijime x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #yamagata hayato x reader #mika yamaka x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #matsukawa issei x reader

[scribbles97]

Faith and Trust

@tsarinatorment gave me SO MANY FEELINGS about @gumnut-logic’s Marks and Wings Universe. 

But at the same time @womble1 got me thinking about Lucy with THIS POST 

So this is basically a result of all of the above and the added fact that I had planned to write a Jeff fic today. Instead this happened... which you will be much more thankful for because this is an awful lot fluffier than what I had planned!

For as long as Jeff had remembered, Lucy had always worn long sleeved tops. Even in the height of summer, when the days had been long and the breeze hot, she had always had something to cover her. 

He had never questioned, she told him so much, spoke so freely about everything else. He trusted if there was something to tell, she would tell him. She would tell him when she was ready, and in the meantime he would wait. 

Except, at the end of summer they were going their separate ways. She to college and he to the Air Force, they had talked at length about what the change meant for their relationship. Both had ignored the comments that one should follow the other, that the highschool sweethearts couldn’t possibly be apart. They were both too wrapped up in each other to really listen, and both most certainly too stubborn to give in their own dreams to follow the other. 

They knew it was all they could do to simply try, to give it their best shot and work things out as they went. 

At least, that was what they had agreed the last time they had spoken about it. 

Lucy’s midnight phone call had driven a spike of fear deep into his chest. Her insistence that she needed to see him then to tell him something. Something that couldn’t wait until morning.

Mom was at work, the all night shift at the hospital not due to be over until the sun broke the horizon. Lucy had known, just like she always did, it was her knack to keep track of everything around her. She had offered to come around, and he knew even if his mother had been home, she still wouldn’t have minded. 

His chest tightened at the thought, Mom loved Lucy, their two families had always been close for as long as he could remember. If they broke up she would be devastated. 

Sitting on the back porch, he chewed the tip of his thumb, listening and waiting for the rumble of Lucy’s old truck to make its way up the drive. Things were good, of that he was sure. They’d worked so hard to figure things out, to establish just how they were going to manage when they were so far away from one another. They had plans for summer, plans to make the most of the few months where they could see each other as much as they so desired. 

He couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe that she would throw all that away. 

The slam of her truck door made him jump, so lost in the spiral of his own thoughts, he hadn’t heard her pull up. Her feet crunched on the gravel of the path that lead around the back of the house. They’d been together long enough that she knew the key for the back door lived under the plant pot at the bottom of the steps Jeff was sat on. 

He looked up as she stopped in front of him.

And immediately noticed the tank top she was wearing. 

No sleeves. 

“Hey,” She murmured softly, forcing a tight smile in the low light bathing them from the kitchen window, “I’m sorry I--”

“No.” He cut her off, standing, striding across to meet her, “Lucy, we were going to have all summer. What changed? What--” 

“Jeff.” She cut him off, the brown of her eyes hardening as she rested a hand on his chest, “Listen to me.” 

Swallowing, he looked down. 

Her hand was light on his cheek as she met his eyes, the brown softening as she watched him. 

“I’m not breaking up with you.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head, “Then wha--”

“I need to tell you something,” She continued, still watching him closely, “And I want to tell you now because I want us to make the most of this summer that we have together, but also because I trust you with my life.” 

Frowning, he reached out to her, catching her hand with his. He didn’t understand, they had been trusting each other for years, had planned on making the most of summer before. What could she have to say that would change all that?

“Everyone at school always whispers about it,” She murmured, tugging at the thin straps of her tank top, “How I always wear long sleeves.”

He nodded, mute. 

“I want to show you why.” Her eyes met his again, a silent plea widening them as she bit her lip for a moment, “But you can’t ever tell anyone.”

Whatever it was, he knew wasn’t his secret to share. He could see the fear behind the plea in her eyes, the way her cheeks sucked inwards, and her shoulders sat straighter. Whatever it was, she was afraid. 

“I swear on Mom.” He murmured, “I will never, ever, tell anyone Luce.”

She nodded once, smiling softly as she stepped back from him, holding one hand up in the universal gesture to stay. 

He felt bereft without having her close, like he was losing her despite her assurances. 

Turning her back to him, she pulled off her top. 

Jeff couldn’t help but stare. They looked like scars, light lines across her back and shoulders that glittered in the low light. Interest drew him closer, the pattern becoming less random and resembling something much more familiar. 

Feathers.

“You’re an Ave?”

Mom had told him the stories, though they had always been vague and something he hadn’t quite believed. He had definitely never seen someone with a Mark before, not in their little town at least. 

Instinct told him to step back again, as she tilted her head back, her shoulders dropping slightly as white feathers rose from her skin. Part disbelief, and part awe stopped him from looking away as white feathers stretched out from her shoulders, hints of silver flecked through the span. He wanted to reach out and touch them, not quite believing what he was seeing was real. 

They were bigger than he expected them to be, not that he was sure of what he had been expecting. 

“Jeff?” 

She had turned, was facing him in just her bra, fear in her eyes. 

The breeze was cool around him as he closed the space between them, pulling off his jacket as he did. 

“Are you not cold?” 

She shrugged as he wrapped the jacket over her shoulders the best he could, eyes fixed on him as she spoke, 

“I wanted you to see.” 

He smiled as he tilted his forehead down to hers, “I see Luce, and I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”

“You don’t hate me?”

Frowning, he pulled back just enough to look at her, “Hate? Lucy, no, they’re-- You are beautiful.” 

His eyes were drawn to the feathers again, watching how they fluttered in the light breeze. Her hand was warm on his arm, drawing him back to her. 

“You can touch them.” 

A shift and they were encircled, her smile knowing as he hesitated.

“You won’t hurt me.”

Smiling, he looked back down to her, “Can I draw them?” 

She laughed as she nodded, “You have all summer to.” 

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he drew her into him, eyes still distracted by the white-silver span. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more distracting.” 

Her laugh was loud in the quiet of the night, but filled their little space with warmth and music. His heart swelled as she looked back to her, relieved to see the brightness in her eyes that belonged there. Her hand reached to his cheek, drawing him down to her as she caught his lips. 

He smiled against her mouth, pulling back enough to murmur, “So, does lifting always involve taking your top off?” 

Her eyes showed laughter, even as she tried to be stern, “Jeff Tracy! No, it does not.” 

Grinning, he dipped down to kiss her again, “Then put your shirt back on before you freeze.” 

She didn’t step back that time as the wings withdrew, folding in behind her shoulders before disappearing from view altogether. 

“Does it hurt?” He wondered out loud as she pulled her tank top back over her head. 

“No,” She answered, taking his hand again and leading him towards the steps of the porch, “It’s a relief most days to lift.” 

He purposefully sat slightly behind her, fingers reaching out to brush over the lines of her mark. 

“I never knew,” He whispered, drawing his hand back as she shivered at his touch.

“You weren’t meant to.” She replied, twisting to look up to him, “The world doesn’t understand and I--” 

A finger against her lips silenced her as he nodded, the world was cruel and unkind. Unforgiving of what they didn’t know or understand, and selfish of something they could take advantage of. 

“I know.” He whispered, “I understand.” 

She smiled as she watched him, “Would you like to see them again?” 

He could only nod, awe getting the better of him.

He would never get tired of seeing them. 

Of seeing her in all her beauty. 

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #marks and wings universe #gumnut-logic #scribbles writes #Lucille Tracy #jeff tracy #fluff

[akimmito]

They thought they won #1

 "Ok. So, this is a fanfic that follows the directions posted by @chocolate1721​. I liked it and wanted to write it, so here it is.

I divided it into two parts because it had 7546 words and I had only written about Gotham, I was still missing Paris. So, to allow a more pleasant reading I separated it.

This is a Timinette fanfic because I think there are very few of them and I want more content from these two.

So, let's get started.

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Taggued: @elmokingkong​

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A trip to Gotham did not go as badly as Marinette thought it would. And they were talking about Gotham, a city so dangerous that you cannot set foot on the streets without suffering an attempted assault. She can only think that Ladybug's luck allowed them to pass the two weeks of the trip without any incident that attempted against the life of any of their companions (although the class screamed to be attacked with Lila spreading scandalous lies). So everything was fine ... Until his last night in the city.

A quiet night, if they could ignore the screams that were occasionally heard (Damn it, Bustier, why so close to the Crime Alley?). The class dined as if there was not a three-front war brewing between the students, it was a time when Lila's lies were hardly heard. It was a great night for Marinette... but then again, why so close to the Crime Alley?

As soon as they left the small restaurant they met two well-known Gotham villains, causing panic in almost all the members of the French class. Only two girls saw that there really is no danger, too many injuries to pose a threat. Harley and Ivy barely  can see the students, they can't even stop.

Marinette, sweet Marinette, approaches them to see their wounds. She's not going to let someone bleed to death in front of her, not if she can help it.

Chloe follows her closely; each taking one of the women to identify the wounds and see how to get them to the hospital. However, Marinette believes that if she lets them bleed freely it won't do to take them anywhere; She began tearing her clothes to make makeshift bandages with the pieces for the most bleeding wounds ... That was until the class stopped being a bunch of screaming and inconsistency.

"Oh, I didn't want to believe it, but you're working with villains!" Lila's comment sparked the class hostility, Chloe just huffs mockingly.

"Damn it, Marinette. Don't you get tired of being such a bitch? "

"Joining Chloe, what did they expect? If they both work for Hawkmoth, obviously they would for the villains here." Someone, Marinette doesn't want to identify the voice, accuses them (again) of working with the Parisian villain, when clearly the man has put a target on her back to corrupt her and turn her into an Akuma. Anyway, idiots.

"You suck, Marinette!"

"What a disappointment, Marinette, you would know better that you must be a good example for class."

"Fools. " Chloe curses under her breath at her teacher's comment.

"I'm. No matter who the person is, I'm not going to see them die if I can help avoid it. ”Marinette frowns at the teacher. There was a time when she thought it was amazing, but those were childish thoughts of a thirteen year old girl who thought the world was divide in black and white. The world is more than that.

Everyone is so engrossed in the uproar that they are not alert enough, Marinette gets mad at herself for not being more careful. The Joker, FUCKING JOKER, is in front of them with a stuffed animal? Marinette isn't going to question it, as far as she knows, it could be a bomb. Even so…

The class doesn't wait a second when they run away, Joker just laughs at the reaction. Chloe stands in front of the two wounded women, waiting for any sign of her best friend, whether to flee or fight.

Marinette scans her surroundings without taking her attention from the madman in front of her. Her first option would be to run, but she's not going to leave Harley and Ivy helpless in the face of the brutal clown-themed killer (all fully justified childhood fears). A moment of silence when the class screams are lost in the streets, it almost seems like a dramatic moment from an action movie.

Joker is excited. The two girls stayed behind to protect their toy and the redhead. He might be impressed; not just anyone would stay to face it. No one is so crazy. His gaze falls on the dark-haired girl, she looks too calm and in ambient. He smiles when he sees her walking to face him and bends down to grab a lever too convenient in the middle of the sidewalk. She's a fun girl! Before she does, he lunges for her. It will be a fun game between the two.

Chloe watches Marinette fight the Joker with a crowbar, take and hit. She can tell he wants to knock him out, but, well, he's not doing it. Brutal would be a good word to describe the little Parisian drawing blood from the man as he laughs as if he had been given the top prize in the lottery (Chloe firmly believes he really feels that way). And it seems he really likes Marinette, a shiver running down her spine at the thought. Chloe bends quickly towards the two women trying  to get up, the more time passes the more possibilities there are for that crazy man to become obsessed with her friend and she will not allow it (Kagami will dismember her with her katana if she allows it).

Harley and Ivy barely manage to stand up, but lean heavily on Chloe. It does not bother her, her training has allowed her to support a little extra weight and as long as she does not have to carry them, there's no problem.

"If you don't hit harder, you won't win," Joker laughs with each comment, wanting to force the girl to be more brutal, even though she is too calm and his comments don't seem to reach her.

"Who said something about winning?" It's the first time she've answered him, he smiles. Marinette bites her tongue to containing any other comment, if she opens her mouth she will get the maniac to follow her to Paris and a madman behind her is enough.

Somehow, while fighting, he has cornered the group in a corner. Marinette berates herself for worrying too much about useless things and now she must win, but give him that satisfaction. Her hair stands on end, a bad blow and her weapon goes in the opposite direction and away from her. Now she only has a clean fist. She can work with it, even though her brain screams at her to run. She swallows thick when he lunges at her again. His mind is a constant alarm of: there's no cure, there's no cure, there's no cure.

But at that moment dark figures leap from the surrounding buildings and confront him, Marinette backs down without letting her guard down until her mind focuses enough to recognize them. The city vigilants.

From there everything is a whirlwind of thoughts and Marinette does not realize when the Joker has been placated and has them close, to the surprise them, she launches herself towards one totally random and remains in the arms of Nightwing who only smiles kindly at the agitated girl about to cry with relief.

"I, help ... them, yes ... wounds, that." Marinette can't hold a coherent sentence toward Nightwing.

"What he meant is that they are injured and need immediate medical attention." Chloe stands firm and will never admit that her legs are shaking, or that being held by Red Hood was welcome help. First dead than looking vulnerable.

Marinette lets herself slip into Nightwing's arms as all the adrenaline leaves her. It's been a long time since she felt this way helpless towards some danger, but she was just Marinette and there was no chance of Ladybug showing up. Thank heaven for the arrival of the vigilants.

"Robin has already alerted the police, he should be here soon." Batman looks at both girls for a moment, but turns to watch the unconscious Joker.

"Everything is fine. " Nightwing whispers to the little girl in his arms, he feels her tremble against him and he is no longer sure if it is the fear  or has another origin.

In a short time the police are there and the two Parisian girls have to give a statement (unfortunately the loss of blood left the two women out of action).

"How it happend?" Chloe takes the initiative, Marinette doesn't seem to be ready to leave Nightwing or say something more coherent than a barely audible babble, clearly struggling to stay together between anxiety and guilt, because yes, Marinette Dupain-Cheng can't help blame herself. Sometimes, Chloe thinks,  want to shake her until she regains her senses (but that doesn't work, Luka's melodies, on the contrary. Oh, they're magical).

"To begin with, this is the fault of our teacher's incompetence to choose a restaurant so close to the Crime Alley. Second, I am very surprised that it did not happen before because our companions were struggling to get the attention of a madman. They said so many stupid things." The vigilants raise an eyebrow at the girl's words, if they didn't know better they could believe that the girls didn't ��suffer a close encounter with the Joker. "And third, Dupain-Cheng is too good to let someone bleed to death in front of her and I too good a friend to see her jump into danger alone. This leaves me with the experience of never going on a trip with that band of incompetents. "

"Can you relate the incident?" Commissioner Gordon is tired, with each passing day new characters appear in the city and he is never ready. The girl hiding in Nightwing's arms and her friend who seems ready to declare war to anyone.

"They appeared bleeding, our companions being stupid, the madman appears and they all flee leaving us behind. Ha, surely they would have thrown us towards him if they had not been so afraid" Chloe doesn't miss the opportunity to make a dismissive comment to her class, Marinette is out of combat to reprimand her for being too cruel with her sincerity. "Dupain-Cheng being so sweet as an acid candy defends us, is done with a lever and gets into a fight with the madman. Somehow we ended up in this horrible place and well, they came along and Dupain-Cheng falls apart in her standard nervous form. It will be fine, it just tends to over-think. The only thing recorded is the split lip, the rest is her realizing a thousand possible scenarios where everything went wrong. "

That said, the four women are rushed to the hospital (Nightwing accompanies them because the young woman in his arms refused to release him and also didn't have the heart to leave her alone when it was obvious that she needed comfort). As soon as they arrive they are checked and Nightwing leaves, giving the girls a brief look before leaving.

"We will stay here, we want to make sure they are okay." Chloe takes control of the situation, refusing to abandon the women. Anyway, after the act on the street, he doubts that they will be well received by the class. She is sure they are not worried and can almost hear their irritating voices speaking nonsense about it.

The doctors allow it stay there with the endorsement of the police, they fall asleep on a sofa in the room where Harley and Ivy are locate. Marinette calmed down throughout the trip to the hospital, muttering apologies to the caretaker who accompanied her for sticking like a koala to his person. And her rest is very calm, without nightmares or anything; Maybe it's the emotional exhaustion of the experience, but there are no dreams riddled with deaths or with the Joker, there is only a deep black who embraces her like a good friend.

The next morning they are awakened by the voices of Harley and Ivy talking to the doctor, Chloe also recognizes the voice of the officer who took the statement yesterday.

"They were very daring and their classmates abandoned them, even the adult with them. "

"You should do something, Jimmy!"

Gordon notices the looks of the two girls and approaches to talk to them, being much more rested can better appreciate the mettle of the two young girls. Especially the dark-haired one, last night was a bunch of inconsistencies and today she looks completely calm, looking towards Harley and Ivy looking for confirmation of their health.

"Good morning, ladies. "

"Good morning, Officer. " Marinette greets with a friendly smile, focusing her attention on the officer. She knows that they must return to their class and return to Paris.

"No one reported two girls missing, but you mentioned they are on a class trip. Can I know the name of the person in charge to call them?"

"Claine Bustier from Paris, France. College Françoise Dupont, we stayed at the Gotham Royal Hotel. Our room is the 155. "Marinette enters all her data, but she also decides that it is better that she has absolutely all of them. "My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 17 years old. My parents are Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, they have a bakery. Tom & Sabine Boulangerie."

"Chloe Burgeois, I reside at the Hotel Le Grand Paris. My father is the mayor, André Burgeois, and my mother is Audrey Burgeois, the Queen of Style. "

Gordon takes note of all the information they have given him, if he cannot contact her teacher he has two pairs of parents to call for their daughters. And for them to be giving that contingency, he can intuit that they know that perhaps they imagine that it will be the case.

He immediately retires and leaves them alone with the two women. He has a job to do.

Gordon spent the whole morning trying to locate the teacher, according to the hotel they left him early in the morning and they have no idea about anything. He doesn't want to alarm the girls' parents yet, so he will first talk to them to find out if they know where they could be, he sends them to bring to the police station to facilitate the whole process, and he also asks for food for the girls. It's almost lunch time.

"Welcome, sit down." The two girls obey with slightly worried expressions, they seem to be fearing the worst. "I have been unable to locate their teacher or class, according to the hotel, they left early in the morning. "

Marinette holds her breath, reality hit her in the face. Chloe's not much better. It was their last night in Gotham, today they had to take a flight to Paris... they didn't it because they are sure that they abandoned them. They start muttering in French at Gordon's confusion, they look alarmed.

"Sir, we are supposed to go back to Paris today. And... well, lately our teacher hasn't been taking roll. Also, she take what our comrades say as fact." Marinette panics again, but this time there are no saviors and they are trapped in another country. "I just hope they didn't go to Paris without us..."

"Don't be innocent, Maribug." Chloe addresses her with her friend's loving nickname, sees her on the verge of panic and hopes to remind her that they are in this together. "Of course they left without us, she didn't count for a visit to the museum. What will be different today? A word from Lie-la and everything goes under her will."

There was a small second of surprise that gave way to panic interspersed with fury in Gordon's features, he turns to pick up the phone and call the airport in a frenzy. He began to demand passengers on flights to Paris, but was repeatedly denied and his patience goes overboard.

"Ladies, would you mind waiting outside?" "Marinette and Chloe obey. They stay near the door because they don't know where to go and catch the officer's scream." THERE ARE TWO CHILDREN WHO COULD HAVE BEEN ABANDONED BY THEIR TEACHER IN THE CITY! NOW TELL ME IF CALINE BUSTIER BOEARDED THE FUNCKING PLANE WITH HER STUDENTS OR NOT! "

Boiling with anger and after a few more screams, Gordon has the information. But he's still so furious that he could commit murder on the spot. Worst of all, he also has video evidence of a student tearing up two airline tickets that, if you have to guess, are those of the girls they left behind. What do those people have in mind? He already feel the migraine coming.

He drops into his chair, counts to ten, and decides to call Bruce. Technically, being a Wayne Foundation sponsored trip, he's responsible for the two girls and with him in charge it will be easier to deal with the parents.

"Hey, Bruce. I have a situation, the Wayne Foundation sponsored a class trip for the Françoise Dupont School and the teacher in charge left two of his students abandoned in the country; I have video evidence of their negligence and I am sure that in every place they went to there is has least one camera that must have caught something. " He massages his forehead, it's not his jurisdiction, but when doing it in his territory he can form a case and send it to the Paris police for follow. "You should come and take care of them while we resolve to take them home, one of her classmates broke their tickets and I'm not even sure if their belongings are in good condition. "

"I understand, Jim. I'll take over, I'll be there soon. "

Gordon is relatively more relieved, but no less angry. He gets up to ask them to come back in and tell them what will happen, so they won't be surprised to see Bruce Wayne coming for them.

"Bruce will take care of you, make all the preparations for your return trip to Paris. And while you come, how normal is the situation with your teacher and your classmates?" He watches the silent interaction and the blonde is the one talking.

"We are the only two people in our class who do not believe Lie-la's lies. Maribug earned her hatred by trying to expose her stories for what they are: lies. And I, well, I was never going to let myself be bowed down by someone like her. "Marinette denies because of the choice of words.

"She considers us an obstacle in her reign. When she arrived, I never believed her because the stories were too unrealistic even for our  standards in the class, considering that we all know a fair amount of celebrities and we all form a very diverse group with a promising future, I mean we have Max, he create an AI capable of feeling emotions. So when I didn't believe her and tried to make my friends  see reason, she swore that she would take everything away from me ... And she did, it wouldn't have been so bad if it were just that, I realized who my true friends are and that I shouldn't trust anyone. The real problem is the way in which he influenced them all, I cann't longer recognize Alya, she is even worse than Chloe years ago. "Marinette sighs, remembering the last years is exhausting in many ways. "So they have marginalized us, they attack us only because Lila says that we did something to her even when we were not there and we have witnesses who can confirm our stories..."

"Seeing them is like seeing a surreal work with abstract tendencies, impossible to believe what you are seeing. The worst is Bustier, she's a facilitator. I hadn't seen the problem before, but now that I'm in Maribug's place too, well, we were clearly wrong about what kind of teacher she was. She believes all her lies and even congratulates her on them! She let use everyone to her holy whim and antagonize those who don't. ”Chloe gets up indignant and ready to continue ranting, not many adults stop to listen to them. "I'm tired of hearing the same speech from her must be the best person, Marinette. Be a good example! Someone should teach him didactics, she obviously doesn't know what she's doing. And now she leaves us in another country! Negligent, stupid, facilitator ..."

"Chloe, stop it. He understood your point. "Marinette is the voice of reason and tries to appease her friend's overflowing anger. It's true that having someone willing to listen is cathartic, but they should not take so many liberties.

"It's not fair, Maribug, not with you. Always ready to help others and they simply attack you when you decide to think about yourself and your future. They think you owe them something and it's totally the other way around because without you, that class wouldn't be half as good as it's ... because when you took the class presidency they all  grew in their areas..."Chloe sits down again, her brow furrowed and still very angry. "They don't deserve you. "

"Miss Bustier often asks me to help her with different tasks, before it meant an additional workload… I became her disappointment when I told her that I would not do more work outside of my duties as class president, it dictated by the rules of the institution. She lectured me that I should not be selfish, that it's for the benefit of the class ... and well, I told him that if she gave me half her salary I would gladly continue doing her job. She punished me, but it was the truth. "Marinette looks at her hands, that conversation was before the trip to Gotham and her punishment would start as soon as they returned to Paris, a pity that left her abandoned.

Surprised is a word that falls short, Gordon doesn't understand how an adult woman can be so irrational. What kind of alternate dimension does that class live in? A person with at least two functioning neurons would not be so ridiculous; At least, he thinks, perhaps the lies are well crafted as unrealistic as they may have seemed, correct?

"All this arose from the lies of that girl, how are those lies? "He feels like asking was a bad idea and the looks of the two girls are confirmation.

"She has tinnitus because she saved Jagged Stone's kitten from being run over by an airplane." Marinette replies completely blank.

"She knows half of Hollywood and recently said that she knows the whole Wayne family and that Damian Wayne has been her friend since she was five years old. "Marinette snorts not holding her stoic expression, they only said some lies, but it is that the others border on the delirium that they do not they want to end up in Arkham just for repeating it. That last one, of course, was very close. "I wish someone would warn her that the boy lived with his mother until he was ten years old. "

From there, Chloe gives more details and there is no longer Marinette who can stop her. By the time Bruce arrives with two of his boys, Gordon is on a call with the French police for a case to be brought to the French Board of Education about the school and its unethical methods of education, citing Marinette's unfair expulsion which looks  it's still on the school record.

Bruce looks at the two girls in Gordon's office, the blonde looks ready for war and the other girl is sitting quietly. Dick and Tim walk behind him; Richard couldn't resist seeing the girl who hung on him as a koala baby again and Tim is there for exactly the same as Bruce, taking charge because is also his responsibility.

"Good afternoon." Bruce greets, catching the attention of the two Parisian girls. They return the greeting and Gordon only makes a gesture of recognition, the police chief reviews the video he sent and the evidence he has of the case, he can hear him muttering indignantly and something about his daughter being part of all that circus.

"Hey!" Richard greets as well, being friendlier than his adoptive father. "I'm Richard, but you can call me Dick and this is Tim, my little brother. ”Tim gives him a contemplative look and just nods at them. His eyes fixed on everything but the two girls.

"I'm Marinette and she's Chloe, nice to meet you." Marinette smiles brightly. Dick can't believe he's the same girl of last night, but apparently she is.

Gordon ends the call at that time, the police said to initiate a police investigation and to involve the Board of Education.

"Well, ladies. When they get home they will ask for your formal statement and the presentation of the charges, although it seems that the prosecution will take care of that. ”He smiles at the girls, who agree with his words. Chloe celebrates, of course it will involve her father too. "Hi Bruce, thanks for coming."

"Of course. And since you mentioned the investigation, Tim collected all of the security camera files from the past two weeks. Every place they were in is in the file. " Tim hands the memory over to the commissioner, he still has a copy on the computer to review in detail himself.

"Thanks, I will review it and send the parts of interest to France."

After that, the five retreat to the Wayne Manor. The suitcases, or what is left of them, awaits they there. Any impression they might have on seeing the mansion falls short because of the disgust of seeing its things ruined.

"Well, Maribug, can I take this as evidence for my theory?" The hosts are still close enough to hear his words, even though they were about to leave them alone.

"Lila's being a meta or the Akuma's?" Marinette rummages in the secret compartments of her suitcase to make sure it was not raped, fortunately it's intact. It's safe to say that none of them thought that it would have a false base with a secret content, the place where the box of miracles rests. Ever since Hawkmoth decided to target her, she has been a little paranoid, or well, very paranoid. She has two secret compartments inside a secret compartment in her room, to store it, but being so far away she didn't feel calm and decided to carry it with her. Maybe it should include some riddle like firewall.

"Akuma, but Lie-la's also fits."

"I think it's the second one, only the class behaves this stupid so we can't blame Hawkmoth, half Paris continues to maintain it's logical reasoning. "Marinette shrugs and classifies the clothes that still serve and the clothes which inevitably must Discard.

Chloe just hums in agreement, it's a valid point. Long nights of conversation with Kagami and Luka (Marinette's small notes) to determine the motives of the class being so incoherent and violent without a truly logical reason led to those two theories.

"You have to call home, Chloe. You already heard Mr. Wayne. "

"Yeah yeah, I'm going to. At least I brought the least glamorous clothes for this trip. "

That's a ground call for Tim, who had overheard their conversation upon hearing something curious. He must prepare the trip to Paris with Wayne's private plane, Bruce wants to take charge of the situation and speak in person with the parents of both girls. Every hour he knows they won't be leaving until the next day, giving them time to spend time with their unexpected guests.

The call is quick and enough for Marinette to fear that her mother will become Akuma. A message from her father confirms that her fears were unfounded, that her mother's anger is cold and will not fall into Hawkmoth's hands.

When the two girls relax and take a breather, knowing that they will sleep in that mansion, they don't even have time to think twice when Jason drags them into a room full of weapons, Marinette can barely contain her surprise and Chloe glows with excitement.

"Ready to learn how to shoot a gun?" Chloe jumps with badly contained enthusiasm, Marinette is not so enthusiastic about it, but learning to remove a weapon considers that it is something useful for what she asks to start there. "Okay, pixie-pop, I'll teach you how to take apart and lock a weapon."

They spend an entire two hours immersed in the world of weapons, Chloe going through each type as Marinette confronts Jason to disarm him, showing off her quick learning, though not good enough to beat her temporary master.

When Marinette leaves, claiming she doesn't want to shoot, she bumps into Damian and asks him for directions to get out of there.

"Because I should?"

"If I get lost it will be your fault." He snorts, but accepts. He doesn't want a stranger sniffing around the mansion and sticking his nose where it shouldn't. They walk in silence when she notices he is carrying a sword. "Is it a katana?"

"What else would it be?"

"An umbrella." She laughs at the boy's annoyed expression when he turns to look at her as if he thinks she's crazy. "There is a design inspired by katanas, a friend decided it was a good idea to scare us with it..."

"Pff. And why did you believe it?"

"She really tried to cut off someone's hand one day, it was with a saber, but ... we really believed her capable of attacking someone with a katana" Damian only raises an eyebrow with a curiosity that he refuses to admit even to himself. "And she's deadly with a sword, we vowed never to face her again with real swords unless we somehow became Superman. "

"Can you fight with swords?" He was being tolerant by allowing her to speak at first, but the latter did catch his attention. It may not be a good one, but having someone who won't cut its finger on themselves in a workout can be helpful, and if he can get her better, a decent opponent to practice with.

"I avoided she cutting my arm with a katana, does that count?"

It changes course and they head to another room, similar to the weapons room, but this time it is full of swords and knives. She respects people's hobbies, she does, but the amount is over the top and she has a slight suspicion that there is more somewhere in the big mansion. Will there be a pump room? She wouldn't be surprised if one of the other two brothers suddenly came out claiming fanaticism about the explosives.

"I want to see how bad you are."

Ouch, Marinette thinks. She has been ruled out immediately, but will not decline now that she's surrounded by so many weapons. She does feel more excited about a sword than a gun, they can't blame her for preferring close combat.

"We will fight with katana, take whatever you want. They are all polished and sharp. ”She feels something dark when she mentions the sharp, as well as pride in the perfect maintenance of her weapons. She smiles confidently, the boy reminds her of Kagami (albeit much more somber and clearly hostile).

Having chosen, the two are placed in position. And he begins to criticize hard and coldly.

"Your posture is very loose, you will only get him to cut your throat with the first blow. Your friend is an idiot, she must has corrected you since he saw you. ”Mariette nods. "Imitate me. ”She obeys, reflecting her posture. "But be firmer, this is not a dance, it's a fight and if you don't stand up fine. Well, you will dead. "

After several minutes in the same position, they begin. A couple of movements and he correct her again.

"The movement must be strong and fluid, you will cause a fracture on your own if you allow the elbow to continue flexing like this. You must be precise in the movements, you cann't start to experiment if you don't have dominated the base. Again. "

With each criticism and correction the girl makes, she becomes more excited. Damian is relentless with his comments, openly insulting her for her mistakes, but gives the correct and fair corrections for the problem she presents.

"You are agile and flexible, use it to your advantage. Put aside unnecessary movements, sword fighting is offensive and deadly." Marinette notices that she is having fun, if the smile says anything (however mischievous it is when she mocks her mistakes). At least until he stumbles over his own feet and falls flat on his face in front of Damian. "You're an idiot?! You almost stabbed yourself, you can't fall like this! Get up and regain the dignity you have left. Again and don't fall or I’ll stab yourself. "

Marinette has a good time, she doesn't even notice the time she spends training with Damian. Alfred interrupts them by announcing that dinner has been served since fifteen minutes.

"Thanks Alfred." She smiles kindly.

Damian reluctantly guards the sword, his brothers always choose other weapons when training. It was satisfying to have someone willing to fight him in his area, especially for his quick learning, he only had to correct twice about posture and movement; he also noticed that she was imitating his movements to correct himself as they fought. Less useless than his brothers, he will give she that.

When they enter, everyone is eating or so it seems. Tim looks at his plate as if he is going to speak to him at any moment, Dick talks more than he eats (with Stephanie who came interested in the two girls who could be victims of Bruce's adoption), Jason has not even touched the plate and in change is arguing over the theory of how to disassemble a grenade launcher with Chloe. Bruce is the only one who eats in silence, at least until he sees his youngest son arrive with Marinette.

"Excuse me." Marinette sits in the empty seat next to Tim, who barely registers the movement. She worries a little, she seems to be in her bad weeks (say Hawkmoth and her Akuma at three in the morning).

Dinner passes unceremoniously, past Damian demanding they shut up, almost stabbing Marinette's hand with his fork. And contrary to what anyone might think, she just laughs, the whole situation seemed so refreshing, so many people at a table and the familiarity with which they were received. She feels comfortable, even with Damian's passive-aggressive attitude.

Somehow, an hour later, they are dragged back into another room. This time both Chloe and Marinette want to scream, and Mari feels she can be relieved because it didn't result in bombs or anything more dangerous than the other two. He gets them comfortable clothes so they can get on, knowing that they have been sweating and going in normal clothes.

Chloe does not hesitate to climb on the trapeze after warming up, but Marinette sits on the parallel bars, not that she is not willing to do the same as Chloe, but she flies often enough as Ladybug to look for something calmer, although she should take advantage and she would like to have a private gym like that, because there are also weights and a punching bag.

Dick is in cloud nine watching how the two girls look like fish in the water, he imagined that it would be so. Especially when she saw Marinette training with Damian and the movements she made, she is clearly a gymnast. And being there, well, that the two of them are so enthusiastic only makes it better. Unlike his brothers, he just wants them to have fun.

At some point in the time they take turns between the bars and the trapeze, Dick and Chloe end up competing. While Marinette is happy on the uneven bars until Damian re-monopolizes her and they move to the weapons room; leaving the other two doing jumps and twists in the air (Dick wins, of course).

Of course, Marinette enjoys the workout and is glad she didn't end up hurt in any way. It would be funny to explain to her parents that they ended up fighting with swords with a boy four years younger and that he did not have the mercy to avoid hurting her.

"Better than a few hours ago, you're not that horrible anymore. "

"Decent, right?"

"That is too favorable for you, you still trip over the air and almost take your eye out." Damian frowns in disappointment at the incompetence of maintaining a decent balance when he has both feet on the ground. When he saw her on the uneven bars, it was almost believed that the jumps that ended in disaster were fake, but no, she really stumbled into nothingness itself.

"Uh, sorry. I will do it better.

"You better, I won't admit any more stupid mistakes."

Damian would have preferred to go on patrol, but he won't complain about the training either. He had fun at the girl's expense and, above all, he knows that if he sees her again and she keeps practicing (he will make sure of that) he will be a better rival than today. She can even introduce that friend of her to measure levels, he's better of course but it never hurts to re-confirm.

At ten at night they go to bed, Alfred shows the room to the two girls and lets them settle down. Marinette can't sleep, after four hours of tossing and turning, she resigns herself and leaves, looking at Tikki on her pillow sleeping comfortably, she can't help envying her good rest. Pick up your phone and it's 2:15.

She curses her insomnia and wanders around the mansion, somehow miraculously ends up in the kitchen. It is a dim light that directs her there, since everything else is dark, she didn't even feel when went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Tim is leaning against the table with his computer on and a steaming coffee. Suddenly he gets up and turns to her with a surprised (and very confused) expression, but more surprised Marinette is when he does that.

"Oh Im sorry…"

"No, no ... Uh, can't you sleep?"

"Usually not. What are you doing?" Marinette knows that she is taking, perhaps, too much liberties when curious about what Tim is doing, but she is not sleepy and there is nothing else to do.

"Work, Wayne Industries is developing a new model of heavy machinery for moving cargo containers, much more resistant to be located on the coasts for the rainy seasons… I am reviewing all the designs, suggested materials and profitability of each project to present to the board in three weeks. There are seven different models, and none are tailored to it needs. " Tim shows the blueprint of the last model he has reviewed, flipped it over several times, and revised the materials, but they are not entirely satisfactory for what he is seeking to present.

"It looks complicated, how do you know if it adapts to it needs or not?" Marinette sits next to him, interested in the project. She know he is the CEO of  Wayne Enterprise and every division in the company, but seeing the work he does is something different. "If you have to go through those kinds of projects and take care of other tasks, i'm not surprised that you're so sleep deprived"

"Well, the demand is analyzed first." Open another file of the works of the sector where the new project is directed.  "Here, the work of the machinery must meet the standards in relation to the pace of work and the climate, considering that it wants to deliver a specific model for working on coasts. This is only to increase efficiency and allow a slightly longer time frame between maintenances. Metals corrode with greater speed and, sometimes, the weather is so bad that it avoids correct maintenance; storms in mid-spring flood the ports. fairly frequently and parts need to be replaced more frequently This new model should allow greater resistance to these conditions. "

"Interesting, and are you always watching projects?"

"Not all projects, Wayne Biotechnology projects do not review this way, it is not my area. It's usually the manager of the division who presents new projects to the board. However, I still have to review other aspects of all the divisions of the company and that includes them all…"

"It's still a lot of work, is it that heavy or do you overload yourself?" Marinette inquires with playful curiosity, Tim shifts nervously.

"A little of both?"

"Oh.So, you need a better coffee. ”She takes the liberty of trying the one she is drinking. "It's still very light. I will share with you my winning recipe, it has kept me up for an entire week with one hour of daily sleep. "

Marinette gets up and moves in the kitchen as if she were the owner of the place, looking for what she needs. Seeing the coffee, she is surprised.

"Black Insomnia?"

"I can only have one cup a week, Alfred thinks it's going to kill me if I drink it every day. I have made an agreement, he doesn't tell me anything about not sleeping and I comply with taking it once a week."

"It's totally valid. " Marinette laughs and puts the coffee back in its place. "Whiskey. It will come handy. "

"What?" Tim watches the girl open the bottle to smell her, it's one of the ones Alfred confiscated from Jason a week ago. "Why Whiskey?"

"Other flavor, vodka is better, but I can work with this. Do you have mint?"

Tim remains dubious as he watches her work with the most random ingredients he could think of for a coffee, also yogurt? He won't question it, but was France so strange?

A few minutes later Marinette hands him a cup.

"It has less caffeine than a regular cup, but the energy it provides is much greater. If you drink one cup per hour, with this you only need one to run at least four. It's magical, come on, don't see it like that. ”She pouts and he decides to take it.

"It is safe? I don't think Alfred is happy that you murder me with coffee."

"I think Damian would have a party."

"Oh, the demon's ally. Since I didn't see it coming, I gave you my trust and that's how you pay me. "

They both laugh, Tim finally trying the coffee. He will give she points for the taste, he don't even feel that it has alcohol and ultimately he feel more alive than a moment ago. He can continue working.

They both stay in the kitchen, Tim works until five in the morning. Marinette fell asleep at one point in that time and he settled her in such a way that when he falls asleep she is his pillow. The sad thing is that not even putting together the hours of sleep of both can they add up to three.

Alfred enters deciding to wake up the teenagers, the plane will leave in two hours and they must prepare. Tim looks for his cup of coffee and has finished it, he doesn't want to move.

"Now, Master Tim. Be a responsible boy and they'll go change. ”Marinette is barely aware of her surroundings as she is dragged into the rooms by Tim, but neither is he does.

Neither of them fully records what happens, except getting to a bed and going back to sleep. Totally out of combat. When they are close to leaving, Bruce doesn't even know what think on seeing the two young sleeping like corpses, dressed exactly the same as the day before.

"Chloe, help Marinette get ready. Dick, help Tim. We're leaving in ten minutes. ”The two mentioned only look at each other in panic before running to wake up the dead.

Marinette barely registers, feeling terribly drained now that all the effort from the day before is building up. He could sleep a thousand years if he were allowed to. They get ready in record time and move to the airport, for the only thing Marinette is aware of is to her luggage, being that she hugs it and when she asks, she murmurs: I love this suitcase, but don't tell my other suitcases, they get angry. No one says anything except for Jason's small laugh and a snort from a more sleepy than awake Tim who responds: who will tell them? No one knows them. Jason breaks down after that and laughs out loud.

Richard regrets not having recorded the most hilarious conversation he has ever witnessed, he has heard his little brother say inconsistent things in his sleep deprivation, but seeing an exchange is something very different. And it's so funy.

And they spend hours on the plane, Marinette basically asleep on Tim while he seems to melt in the seat. Richard took lots of photos every time they moved. By the time they get to Paris, they are both more awake.

Chloe smiles at her city, excited for what awaits all the bastards who left them behind. Maybe it is justice for everyone else, but for her it's revenge and she wants to see them suffer for hurting them both.

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

Thanks for reading!

#timari #Timinette #tim x marinette #marinette x tim #maribat #bustier salt #ml x dc

[ahsokasanity]

Chapter Ten

A Court of Shadow & Ribbons           Wanna start at Chapter One?

                                                            *

Mor apologised the moment they entered the sitting room.

“I’m sorry for the subterfuge, but Azriel knows about me and he…..”

Emerie had not let go of Mor’s hand and as she spoke, Mor found herself being turned toward the female who had captured her attention at the party, and even before that. Mor was staring into Emerie’s hazel green eyes and losing any capacity to finish her sentence.

Emerie said “Now, I know too” and kissed her. Not a passionate kiss, a request of a kiss. Mor sizzled and held tight to Emerie’s hand, putting her other around her waist to hold her there. She didn’t let Emerie move back from that touch, Mor licked her lower lip and went back for a more intimate meeting.

Emerie sighed and felt herself going pliant and loose. She stepped toward the lounge, pushing Mor backwards to sit facing each other, stroking her hands in Mor’s hair, around her waist and over the perfect lines of her cheek and jaw.

“Oh I’ve never known what this felt like”

Mor stopped kissing Emerie’s ear lobe

“Just you wait” she whispered, Loving the shiver that ran through the female with her

“I just want to feel you and have you here with me, but tell me what you want” She hadn’t stopped touching and feeling and kissing, and Emerie’s eyes were closed when she murmured

“More of this for now, please don’t stop”. There they stayed, on the lounge as the sun rose and they discovered each other. Mor stopped at one point to ask if they should move from the sitting room

“Nope, this is it for now, I want to fall asleep here with you Mor” Emerie answered. So they did.

                                                            *

The training ring was pink with the streams of sunrise when Azriel landed. He found the rose with it’s chain in his pocket and strode into the house and his room. He couldn’t believe that Nesta and Cassian had not fallen asleep yet as he heard the low murmur of Cassian’s deep voice followed by a higher demand from Nesta. Mother save him from having to hear much more of that.

The house seemed to respond with some modicum of decency and muted the increasing sounds from their room. As Azriel closed his door, the moaning was left behind altogether.

He went to his armoire and opened the furthest right bottom drawer. In to it, he placed the jewellery beside a small cedar box. The only item that he kept from his childhood – a gift from his mother created when he was discovered to be a shadowsinger. She had placed a few items in it as he grew, even when he was imprisoned and she was unable to contact him. A lock of his hair, a note she’d written and a tiny dagger that she hoped he’d be able to learn to wield as he matured.  

He picked it up for a moment. Re-promising that his children would be loved in person, daily, and never would come to hurt whilst he breathed

He closed the drawer with his foot and changed into training gear. His body screamed at him for some sleep but he kicked back at the need and told himself “after training”.

                                                                       *

Most of the girls were already at the roof by the time Azriel arrived. Emerie was of course not there, nor were Nesta and Cassian. Apparently you do not have to train the day after your mating ceremony. All of the others were there including Lorelei and Roslin who had perhaps drunk more alcohol than they should at the celebration.

Those who had not attended the festivities were happily listening to the stories from the ceremony. Many of them had heard the tale of Gwyn’s singing and were congratulating her as they warmed up.

“Gwyn”. Azriel got the attention of the entire group. He indicated that Gwyn should join him at the front and she was nervous.

“We are a little short on instructors and members today, so I thought it might be nice if Gwyn led us in a warm up”

“Phew” Gwyn sighed inwardly and took a big breath. The best moves that she and Nesta and Emerie had found to get moving everyday were easy. She felt comfortable with the trainees and not pressured by Azriel. She could see him out of the corner of her eye correcting stance and core strength movements.

Everyone was flushed and perspiring by the time Gwyn finished the last rhyme. Azriel broke the females into three groups of three and had them sparring with staves, the third person of each group was the watcher to help with their feet and defence in-case anyone was having a particular problem.

Funnily enough, that left Gwyn and Azriel. Azriel handed her a heavy shield and led her to the area with a little more room.

“Sometimes, you won’t have a weapon but you may have some protection. Learn to use it to stay alive longer against an armed opponent”

Gwyn stood awkwardly holding the wooden metal plated implement on her left arm. Azriel attacked with deliberate slowness, signalling where he was going with each strike of his staff. Gwyn dodged and held, shuffled her feet and moved her weight to take every blow. Azriel sped up and reduced his warnings until they were both running with sweat and one of the other groups had stopped to watch them.

Azriel did not yell as Cassian could sometimes drag on his General’s mask, he merely indicated with a hand and “Ladies” -for the females to gather to watch.

“You see how you can fight without fighting? Defence can be the best way to stay alive until help arrives or until you are able to locate something more like a weapon”

Gwyn stumbled as Azriel spoke, attention lost in a memory of desperately waiting for help to arrive. Too late. Help came too late, even in the form of the winged assassin standing before her now. She dropped her eyes and Azriel continued to address the others.

“Get into a line and you can each have a moment to attack me with your staff, one at a time. Let’s go.”

The Idisi formed up immediately and began an assault on Azriel, giving Gwyn space to step out of the ring to get a drink. Why couldn’t she just get over this? How could the mention of being in danger make her stop thinking? Stop fighting? It had not happened on Ramiel. She thought that she was Valkyrie and unstoppable. Breathe she told herself, just breathe.

Once her heart rate had calmed both from the exercise and the panic, she returned to the line of staff wielding priestesses. It was time to have her revenge on Azriel’s earlier attempts at her. She would not be cowered and would never again be simply left waiting for help to arrive.

Azriel looked pleased to see Gwyn reach the front of the line and the others had begun to stretch and to drink water before the cool down.

“Apologies if I triggered something there, you were doing really well”

Gwyn stepped right then left and slammed the staff toward his exposed left wing. Azriel ducked and laughed at her audacity, but got his shield up in time to block the next blow.

“Now that was serious” – he blocked a third hit, but with effort and when Gwyn spun and angled the staff at his shins, he had to jump back to protect himself.

“You’d better give Azriel, I can do this all day” She grunted as she threw another two-handed attack at his neck and shoulders. Her feet were actually getting faster as she became more comfortable with the longer weapon. Azriel knew he could out manoeuvre her without a time limit, but she was so strong, so resilient he knew working her to exhaustion today would not be helpful. She needed this confidence and she needed more training and further fitness, but Cauldron was she a warrior.

After a resounding clash of staff and shield, Gwyn aimed a particularly good weight at his upper arm and connected. It was not enough to take Azriel out of a sincere fight, but it was a move that deserved reward.

“Give. I give” Azriel admitted freely. He was not winded, while Gwyn was pink and panting slightly. She knew without commenting that Azriel had forfeited. She didn’t mind. She had hit him after all!

They both drank greedily and Gwyn wondered if she was doing anything useful toward gaining Azriel’s affection. He was just the epitome of trainer today, although he’d focused on her a bit more than normal. She looked over at him and smiled, he gave her a nod of appreciation and she lowered her eyes.

“Form up Idisi” Azriel’s voice carried easily across the rooftop.

“Gwyn, please lead the cool down?”

Gwyn stepped out of the line sideways and began the relaxation chant.

Azriel stood sentry still, but took it all in, tensing and relaxing different muscle groups as the trainees breathed steadily and stretched. He was just nodding off, his wings held slightly open and his eyes closed. A stiff breeze nearly knocked him over and he realised that he was asleep. Thankfully he had no more appointments for the day and could just wash and sleep.

The females were saying goodbye and thank you to him and Gwyn was storing the staves and shield and tidying up around the ring as Azriel went to enter the house. He called out

“And thank you Gwyn for your help. And for reminding me to protect my upper arms!” He smiled at her and she grinned.

“Anytime. You are certainly training me to keep up my guard”

He turned again to look at her and she made a face like she had not meant to say that.

“Oh. You’re doing really well, so, you ah, you should feel good about that. I’ve gotta go, I haven’t been to sleep yet. See you tomorrow”

Gwyn nodded and headed off, embarrassed that she had dragged that information out of him. Where did he go after he dropped her here? He must have been back by dawn, he had got changed for training. Did he go to the nightclub? Did he hook up with someone? Gwyn cursed herself for a fool. He’s an experienced male who is your trainer. Why would he curtail his fun just because you spent some time with him? Why indeed when she’d given the gift back?

                                                                                   *

She used the library to forget all about thinking and re-thinking through last night and her memories of Azriel. The other priestesses, especially Merrill, wondered where she got the energy to run from place to place and help others with heavy tomes.

She just wanted to be exhausted by dinner time. Just wanted to sleep with no tossing and turning.

Azriel slept. No dreams, no startling awake. He drifted off hearing Gwyn singing in his head and woke up having barely moved. It was pitch black outside so night had fallen, but it was hard for him to surface from the total relaxation that he’d found. He merely checked his windows and his connections to Rhys – no emergencies, and stretched his wings. Laying on his other side, he fell right back to sleep.

                                                                       *

#acosf #acotar #sjm #Mormerie #Nessian #Gwynriel #Angsty #training #valkyries