#like maybe in his dreams he envisions himself looking more like the kid he was the last time he saw his own face

[sunray-222]

Angel Baby. | M.S

pairing: matt sturniolo and y/n

summary: in which matt and his brothers are a pretty big deal in a small town. y/n, who is the daughter of a school teacher and a fireman has never understood the hype around those sturniolo boys anyways. however, when matt takes her home to save her from pouring rain, she decides to give him a chance.

warnings: cursing, short chapter, lmk if i missed anything

————————————————————————

“so, tonight?” matt asked, standing beside you against the lockers. “if you don’t stop asking me, the answer is going to change i promise you.” you laughed, pulling the bag over your shoulder.

“i’m just excited, y/n.” he laughed, gently pushing your side. “i know, i know.” and it was true. matt was excited, and as bad as you tried to fight the thought, you wondered if he was excited for the wrong reasons.

he had a history. of talking girls up, just to never show. he was tough, rude, loud, but with you he was soft. was he like this with every girl he lets down?

the thoughts didn’t have long to linger, as he pressed on with another question. “so we can go to the drive in, and watch a movie…or watch a movie.” he teased, and that’s when a whole new string of fears crossed your mind.

“is that what you think this is gonna be?”

his face completely dropped. “what? no-no y/n i was just joking, i promise i’m not like what you think- i- it was just a stupid joke i shouldn’t have said it. i’m sorry.”

“it’s um, it’s alright matt.. i’ve gotta catch my science class i’ll see you later.” you smiled, quickly walking away from the boy.

you fucking idiot matt thought to himself. in all honesty, he was kidding. and up until this point he’d never been serious about a girl, never talking to one for longer than 48 hours. you were a whole new territory for him. and that scared him.

“oh, hey y/n!” nick beamed, he’d never spoken to you before this. “hey,” you said breathlessly, not realizing how quick you’d walked to avoid matt. “are you excited for tonight?” his eyes danced across your face, looking hopeful for his brother. “oh, yeah i’m over the moon.” you laughed, opening your notebook to a fresh page.

“well, good. because i’ve never seen matt look so excited for something.”

and that’s when all your anxieties came back. you’ll never understand why the reassurance makes you second guess, maybe it’s because you’re letting your guard down, maybe it’s because you’re reading too far into matt’s past. whatever it was, you were beyond sick and tired of the feeling.

the day dragged on, you listened to madi gush to nadia about her phone calls with chris, but the one thing on your mind was matt.

what he was doing, what was he wearing tonight? even worse, what were you going to wear? most little girls dream of their first dates, how beautiful they’ll be, everything. you were different, while those were the goals they had, you had envisioned life away from your town. you had no idea what to do here.

what you didn’t know, was matt didn’t either. even going as far as to forge a letter from his parents, saying he and his brothers had a doctors appointment just so they could leave early and go find an outfit for him.

“this is ridiculous,” chris laughed. “would you shut the fuck up.” matt huffed from inside the dressing room, fixing the collar of the shirt before walking out. “how do i look?”

“like ice cube. pop a few buttons tough guy,” chris laughed, however nick seen how serious his brother was. “maybe try a different one, one that’s more you and not what you think y/n will like.” nick explained, fighting the smile and the urge to laugh at chris’ joke.

“would you quit being a dick!” nick hissed, popping chris on the arm as matt disappeared into the dressing room. “nick, dude looked like he was gonna bust out rapping straight outta compton at any second. i’m trying to help him.”

“well thank you for being honest about his outfit choices dickhead, but if he’s too far into his head he’ll fuck the whole date up with y/n. please just be gentle when you don’t like something, for the love of fucking christ.” nick explained, lightly hitting his forehead for emphasis. chris only rolled his eyes, waiting to see what his brother walked out in next.

“so you have a date tonight?” your mom asked, a wide grin on her face as you stepped into the house. you gave a simple ‘mhm’ as a response, making your way to your room. “where is madi, i figured she’d love to help you get ready,” she asked, resting her hand on the railing to the stairs.

“she’s waiting for her guy to call her. i gotta get ready mom,” you called back, shutting your door just before she could answer.

you laid back flat against your bed, your hands covering your face immediately. “what did i get myself into?!” you groaned, sitting up and connecting your phone to the speaker.

in some way the music calmed you as you made your way to the closet. you landed on a simple plain black top, and baggy jeans. for hair, you kept it simple, same with makeup. by any standards, you looked like you were just hanging out, not a date.

but the truth was, that was the real you. the you that you wanted matt to see you as. if this was going to work at all, matt had to see you for you.

the next two hours flew by, and finally there was a knock at your door.

“hi,” you smiled, only to cut yourself off

it was nick at your door.

“hey, y/n i’m sorry to do this, matt’s not feeling the best. i think tonight’s a no go. he’ll call later, i gotta head out. i’m sorry.”

and then he was gone.

maybe you were right about matt.

-

i’m sorry to do this to yalll and i’m sorry it took this long annnd i’m sorry this is short. part 3 soon swea 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo

[awmancreeper]

⋆｡˚⋆꒰ঌMY DRESS-UP, DREAMER ໒꒱⋆ ˚｡⋆ 1 - Friends? They disappoint me

--౨ৎ✩°｡⋆ Soobin, a quiet doll painter finds it good to be true when a charismatic girl asks Soobin to help fulfill her dream of being a cosplayer. Along the way, they’ve realized they have much more in common than they thought and maybe something more.

Masterlist / next

!!Written parts!!

After arriving at school, Soobin scanned the lecture hall for his friends but soon realized he’d somehow arrived earlier than the two. Taking a seat Soobin’s eyes drift towards the large window, observing the blue sky as he recollected the conversation he’d had with his childhood friend.

He’s always been alone, ever since he was a kid Soobin was outcasted for his hobby. Scared of being bullied Soobin stuck to himself but Yeonjun always seemed to stick by Soobin. Although Yeonjun was the polar opposite of Soobin being a social butterfly and all, he still made an effort to make sure Soobin never felt alone.

Even so… now looking at the uni students around him as they chatted amongst their friends, Soobin felt lonely.

Maybe Yeonjun was right, Soobin can’t always expect Junnie to be there when Yeonjun has his own life. Maybe it was time to expand his tiny friend group.

Yet again friends don’t fall from the sky

“BEOMGYU!” A female voice broke through Soobin’s train of thought as he turned his head to see a girl stumbling towards him.

Losing her footing, she fell back hurdling towards the hard desk. “Y/n!” Another female voice yelled

Face scrunched up preparing for impact, Soobin was fast enough to place his hand on the edge of the desk preventing the girl from slamming her head against the table.

With a grunt, Soobin felt the pain of his hand being brutally sandwiched between a desk edge and a skull. “Oh my god Y/n! Are you okay?” A bunny-like girl quickly picked up her friend.

“Yeah I’m good” Soobin’s eyes followed as the girl turned around. Her e/c eye darts towards his now red hand to Soobin’s face “Quick thinking dude!! Thanks!” You said smiling at the dumbfounded man “I-I-I”

“Yeah seriously” an Aussie accent spoke

“Soobin right?” Another voice tuned in, Soobin looked and it was one of Yeonjun’s friends Taehyun… in fact, they all are Yeonjun’s friends well more like in the same social class

There was Taehyun, the super smart but actually cool guy

Beomgyu, a class clown type

Jake, the frat boy

Minji, the girl everyone guy wants to date

And the leader; Y/n, the golden girl. Between her look and personality there was nothing not to love.

“Soobin huh?” You spoke kindly as Soobin stared up at you speechless “well um…”

“My hero,” placing a hand on your hip your laugh but quickly stop spotting the redness building up on Soobin’s hand “Woah you took quite a hit!” Taking his hand into yours

“Duh with your hard head I’m surprised his hand isn’t broken” Beomgyu added earning a glare from you and smack on the head from Taehyun.

Switching your attention back to the flustered man who was checking out your shirt wondering if it’s supposed to be that revealing. Your soft smaller hands held his large hand ever so gently afraid of it being injured “does it hurt?” You asked

“N-No, not really” Soobin spoke eyes shifting between your doll like eyes and plush chest. Not really aware of this man checking out the color of your bra hardcore you send him a smile and gently dropped his hand “Thanks again Soobin,”

“That could’ve been really bad” you said laughing making his heart pick up ever so slightly.

“Are you sure you’re okay Y/n?” Jake asked following the group of friends to their unassigned ‘assigned’ seats. “Yeah but I’m surprised Gyu actually tried to kill me” you responded joining them

“I said I was sorry!” Beomgyu whined

Soobin looked at his hand as it slightly throbbed in pain only to envision your smile. His eyes dart up seeing your smile as you chatted with your friends.

Flabbergasted at what just happened replayed the scene over and over again in his head trying to comprehend it.

Yet at the end he only came up with one observation, THE Y/n spoke to him

The beautiful, charismatic y/n spoke to awkward ole Soobin

And also your skirt was really short evidently with your white panties showing peak out as you lean over to talk to Taehyun.

Taglist: @suzirumas @txtbrainrot @skzeyeu OPEN (ask or comment to be added)

#tomorrow x together #kpop #txt fluff #kpop smau #txt smau #fem reader #soobin #soobin x reader #choi soobin #anime inspired

[hangesbestie]

congrats on your first post lovely!! if you’re comfortable could you please do reiner helping a reader who can’t sleep or is maybe scared to? thank you and much love <33

of course i can, friend! ♡ thanks so much for all the sweet words. i hope this can bring you some comfort, no matter what you're struggling with, and that *fingers crossed* my writing falls in with what you envisioned 🌷

— featuring: Reiner Braun x gn!reader

— tags/warnings: established relationship, mental health issues, sleep issues (insomnia, nightmares), fluff, comfort

Out of all things to learn from life, Reiner once believed in one the most:

That some things were meant to be suffered in silence, in the quietest parts of the night, alone. 

For some time, that stupid thing itself was all he had ever known to do, not so long ago. 

When being a kid, to sleep was to dream. You could just let your eyes close, and hours would become seconds, just like magic; the darkness of night would've already vanished away in between breaths — and daylight would be there, with its warm touch, waiting at the other side of your eyelids, golden and silent. No monsters could threaten the shelter of soft bed sheets. No nightmares could defy the peace that a forehead kiss from a mother protected.

But childhood could not last forever. And, it seemed that for him, not even peace could stay. 

From a boy to a man, the passing years soon began to be built upon sleepless nights. And Reiner would lie awake in the hours of darkness, open-hearted in a bed he had outgrown. 

For some ill-fated reason he still was trying to find, the changing tides inside his mind had darkened. Sorrow had begun to claim time as its own, all-consuming: heart-sinking thoughts, words of resentment towards himself, regrets of things he never did, that perhaps he should've… 

Reiner had known it all. 

The true absence of sunlight. The dim touch of the still air on his skin. The quietude that would dwell in the dead of night, not even disturbed by his profound breaths. The tight feeling constricting his chest, keeping his eyes wide open. All the insignificant cracks on his ceiling that he had memorized to the bone. The restless sensation almost burning across his long legs. The fear of what one could encounter at the other side. Of waking up with a breath stolen right from your lungs, with the grim coldness of a nightmare still weakening your bones. 

All of it had made him believe with his whole heart. No, not only believe — but convinced him of it. That the only way to live through that fog was to surrender, to let it pass in your solitude.

But that… that was until you happened to him.

Because Reiner once had thought that all his nights would be spent alone. That he had to live through all of that on its own, misunderstood beyond solace or salvation.

But you alone had proven everything wrong. 

Two hearts that understand each other never need words. And you two could see it on one another, even before any confiding took place. You could see in him the same battles that you've fought against sleep. 

So, when you two started spending the nights together, there had never been goodnights.

Being together made it all more bearable. You could exchange words of understanding. Make the silence of night less threatening. Keep the haunting thoughts at bay. 

And yes, even if there are nights in which you lie in silence with your eyes open, looking without seeing, waiting for the moment when your body succumbs to tiredness and falls asleep, once and for all… Reiner is always with you. 

Laying in bed together, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the sureness of his strong arms holding all of you, every part, every flaw, every thing — your rights and wrongs, your pretty parts and your ugly ones, even if he always will deny the existence of the latter — and gods, every night, every time, he does it willingly, lovingly, without a doubt; as if being together like that, bodies so close that you can get lost in him forever, is second nature, something you two had been bound to do. 

Even if sometimes you can wake up with your heart in your mouth, desolate and trembling, or even if other times you can't stop the frightening thoughts from convincing you to stay awake.

Nothing of it matters. Nothing. 

Because the other will always be there. 

Breathing in the softness of unspoken intimacy, speaking in whispers that silence soon can touch. Distracting your heavy thoughts with his words, fingertips running through your hair, muttering secrets that he could never say to the world, sharing light-hearted questions and answers, memories told while looking at the ceiling, in between breathy chuckles and tender taunts, telling stories to one another beneath the bed sheets like little kids, stealing kisses from each other's lips mid sentence. 

Sooner or later, the inevitable happens. It does not matter whose eyes close first. When breathing in such peace, voices start to hush, eyelids giving in to their own exhausted weight, and words become vague, one way or another, listening to each other breathe like waves that come and go.

The night is never forever. Sometimes, weak rays of sunlight break through the blue hour of dawn, sneaking through the window, disrupting the peace of your conversations, intruding in the haven created from a night spent together in each other's arms, one that you can only wish to last forever.

But, most of those nights, the haze of tiredness grants its touch when the darkness still remains, closing both your eyes. Limbs entangled, breaths pacified, fingers interlaced even in sleep.

Fear has no place there.

And, after all, knowing in your heart that he will always be at the other side… it is easier to let your eyes close. 

— interactions are always appreciated. inbox/requests are open! ♡

#reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner fluff #reiner x you #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot imagines

[adrinoir]

Headcanon: Adrien Agreste is Trans? (Part 5)

Part 5 let’s gooooo!

Wow, so, as I’m going through my own trans journey, I was inspired by some to write another part of this headcanon. I was somehow able to connect Adrien’s character to parts of my own journey. It’s pretty cool!

Here are the other parts of this headcanon if you’d like to read those: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Usual disclaimer: this is just for fun! Obviously cis boys can have these same qualities and traits. Don’t take it too seriously. These are all just things I’ve noticed. Also please keep in mind I haven't watched anything beyond Migration as I’m writing this (I’m using the material I have so far).

CW: mentions of transphobia and abuse

The struggle to envision his future

Trans people can struggle to envision their life in the future due to not having older trans people to look up to. Or they feel so depressed from gender dysphoria or judgement for being trans that it makes it hard for them to see what their future will be like.

We see in Wishmaker, Adrien doesn’t have much of an idea as to what he wants for his future. He told Luka and Marinette that his head feels empty. And, additionally, he said to Ladybug he never had any childhood dreams.

When he’s hit by Wishmaker, he turns into who he is now. I mentioned in part 2 of this headcanon that there’s trauma behind that, and Adrien is trying to be this perfect young man for his parents. However, I want to look at it from a different perspective-

Consider, he turns into himself now - not even an older version of himself with no differences whatsoever, meaning he possibly might not see anything beyond the person he is now. Or (TW here) he didn’t see (or could barely see) a future for himself as a kid because he was so depressed and dysphoric. It’s not uncommon for trans kids to feel like they won’t live to transition. Especially with Adrien, if he is trans, I can only imagine how terrifying it would be for him trying to come out to his parents.

Or, if he was at first confused by his dysphoria and trying to figure out his identity as a child, that confusion could’ve clouded his vision for his future. He couldn’t completely understand who he is and why he was feeling the way that he was.

Not fully understanding yourself and who you are - even within your gender identity - can cloud how you see yourself now and in your future.

The “I just want to be a son!” line

The line Adrien said in Risk: “I just want to be a son!” stands out to me a lot.

I know he mainly meant it in a way of saying that he wants to be treated like a regular kid by his own father, not like a model. But, - listen, I’ll take whatever crumbs I can get - there’s a strong emphasis on this line and making sure he specifies “son.”

Having this strong desire to no longer model (which is in fact one of my other signs I listed in part 4 of my headcanon) and saying he wants to be a son just gives me vibes that he’s so dehumanized by his own father. His father barely treats him like he’s his kid and uses him as marketing for his designs. And referring to another part of this headcanon (part 1), him and his father have this unexplainable disconnect, even though Adrien is such a good son. I had mentioned maybe it’s because Adrien is trans and his father barely accepts this.

So, if it is true that this disconnect is caused (or at least partially caused) by Adrien being trans, he wants to make it clear he’s at least his son, not his daughter.

The dehumanization

Speaking of that unexplainable disconnect and dehumanization I had just mentioned, I want to get into more detail about that.

Gabriel continues to care so little about his own son, and at this point in the series, we see he’s barely even treated like a human anymore. Gabriel’s behavior has worsened. Gabriel had the audacity to free Adrien of his modeling career by creating a fake AI version of him.

That is absolutely dehumanizing. Like, is it good that Adrien is no longer a model? Yes. But is it good that there’s a duplicate of him saying things and making expressions that aren’t real? Things he never said and did himself?

It’s incredibly slimy behavior to see your son as a marketing tool and way to reach your own stingy goals. And that begs the question: why does Gabriel see his son as just these things? How could a father treat his son with such little love and apathy?

This reminds me a lot of transphobic people because they don’t think of trans people as real people. They say and treat them as if they aren’t humans. They’re willing to threaten them, spit on them, possibly unalive them, insult the daylights out of them, etc as if they don’t have human emotions and lives. And, these transphobes are typically hateful, evil people, just like Mr. Gabriel Agreste.

One could argue that Gabriel has just gone absolutely insane and he showed some compassion for Adrien in earlier parts of the series. But, I don’t feel this is true. Referring to Wishmaker (again lol), it’s shown his parents have had expectations of him his whole life. Their love for him was conditional starting from his early childhood, and we’re not given reason as to why this is - it’s just been suspected to be abuse.

And, if we knock out my first section about Adrien not realizing his future, maybe he did know since childhood that he’s trans. And perhaps he defied his parents (like he did when he ran away to the school) and started taking steps to transition (as many steps as he could before needing his parents to weigh in and be somewhat accepting). That’s why Gabriel neglects Adrien and dehumanizes him, and him just going crazy showed more of his true colors - colors that have existed within him all along.

The relationship & physical affection discomfort

In Adrien’s first relationship, he was so uncomfortable with Kagami despite how long they were friends prior to. Understandably, this was his first relationship, Kagami made a lot of assumptions about him as a person, and came on really strong. But, despite liking her, he was still so uncomfortable and never really got over that.

You’d think he would’ve been okay with kissing her and more physical touch since he seemingly had a bit of a crush on her for quite some time. But he hardly was. And he showed a bit of disappointment when she made wrong assumptions about who he really is.

If Adrien has gender dysphoria, he’s not going to feel very comfortable with physical affection, especially with someone who has the wrong idea of him as a person; someone who doesn’t know he’s trans (at least not yet). Notice how he also backs away at times when Ladybug actually tries to be physically affectionate with him (particularly the Fake Ladybug in Puppeteer 2).

Adrien only seems okay with physical affection if he initiates it. If someone else tries to initiate that first move when he’s not completely comfortable with them, he gets uncomfortable. It has to be by his terms. This could be him having to gain that bit of trust since he’s used to that dismissive attachment style from his father who neglects him - it reflects itself in romantic relationships. But it could also be bodily gender dysphoria and the fact that no one would know he’s trans (aside from his own family).

#miraculous ladybug #tales of ladybug and cat noir #miraculous #miraculers #adrien agreste #chat noir #ml season 4 #wishmaker #ml wishmaker #ml headcanons #ml analysis #trans pride

[medusapelagia]

Brother of my brother 3

Tags: AU, Angst with a hopefull ending Relationship: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

“This should have been mine…” he whispers again. “You keep saying that but I don’t know what do you mean.” What Eddie means it’s that he and Steve were switched at birth. What he means is that he should be Steve Harrington. He should be living the dream life that Steve has. But he is not. He is living in a trailer with an uncle who is not even his uncle. He looks at his hands, they are trembling. “You ok?” He shakes his head and Steve hugs him.

Steve is hot, stable, and caring, and he finds himself hiccuping in his arms. It should have been him. If she hadn’t switched them he would have had money to buy a better guitar, more amps, a fancy car like Steve’s. But his mother was ill. She took the baby and ran away. The wrong baby. The hospital tried to cover the error but when Eddie got to the hospital three weeks ago, one of the older nurses recognized his name. “There are things that you can forget.” She told him while she explained to him what happened. He could have pressed charges against the hospital, but was his mother, well, Steve’s mother, that took the wrong baby so the hospital will not take any responsibility and he is just Eddie Munson. He has no money for a fucking lawyer. He could have talked to Steve’s parents, but what could have he said? I’m your real son? You rose the wrong one? Could they switch lives as they were switched at birth? Eddie looks at Steve. He would not survive at the trailer park. He simply knows. And Wayne? God Wayne would die if Eddie left him. He stares at Steve in silence, looking at the boy who is living his life without even knowing it. “So, Dusint wants us to be friends, uh?” he asks and Steve nods, getting closer. “He’d loved to. But I know that you are not exactly a fan of mine so…” “Maybe I could? Maybe I… could warm up to you if we see each other more?” “You wanna see more of me?” Steve asks, sincerely perplexed, he really does not, but he nods because he loves Dustin more than anything. “Ok. Fine for me. I’m always the older one when I am with the kids. I would love to have a friend of my age.” With his age and the same fucking birth date. He looks at Steve. He knows nothing. Wayne knows nothing. And even if Eddie knows what happened, is too late. “Cool.” “I’ll wake you up tomorrow to get your van, ok?” Eddie nods, and when Steve escorts him to his room to give him something to sleep in, he sees how plain and impersonal Steve’s room is. How cold and empty the big house feels. He sits on the bed of the room next to Steve’s and for the first time in three weeks, the angry inside him subsides. His father is in jail, his mother overdosed and he is living in a trailer with his uncle, but now that he had a taste of Steve’s life he feels a little better. He still misses the money, but he can’t really envision Mr. Harrington accepting his coming out like Wayne did. He waits a few hours and then goes back to the quarry to get his car, but before he leaves a message for Steve. “See you tomorrow. Brother of my brother.”

#steddie #tumblr fic #angst with a hopeful ending #part three #brother of my brother

[tiaamorosa]

Caracan - Sparks Family (1)

It is shortly after midnight and the lights are still on in the mayor's house. It's like this almost every evening, because Michael wants to finish his day's tasks first.

​"Michael, it's getting late, come to bed"/ "in a minute, my dear, I just have to write a few lines. Mmh…hm, I've forgotten the name of our new resident again"/ "His name is Keon, Michael. You're getting a bit more forgetful as time goes by, I'm sure you realize that too. You'll have to give up your post at some point. I know you don't want that…".

"I'm still clinging to the idea that we'll leave this island one day. If possible, before I die, Vinetta. Until then, I just want to be who I am for as long as possible."/ "But at some point, you won't be able to do that anymore. You know some of the men here would like to take over your job". "hmm. I'm just not sure yet who I can hand over my position to with a clear conscience"…

"What about Mr. Weiss, or Luck-Neckar? Or Erik Verne? "/ "Oh no, not Erik, he would confuse so many things. No, I was thinking maybe Clayton. He's the closest to what I envision as my successor. He's very eloquent, can write very well, his handwriting is flawless. And he's very competent"/ "that's right. It would certainly be a good job for him."/"But I'm still here"…

"This year marks 15 years. I know it's not necessarily a day to celebrate. But it would still be nice if we could all gather around the table with a good roast. Dean should keep an eye out first and then bring us something that's enough for everyone"/ "if everyone wants to come at all."/ "You're right… Then the leftovers will be brought to them. I also wish we could do it differently. But it was lucky that there are wild animals here".

Michael finished his work for the day. He then went out into the hallway with his wife. This was already an evening ritual. Checking once again that the door was locked, taking another look through the window to make sure no one was out and about. "See, everything's fine"/"Where's our daughter today, she hasn't come home"/"She's staying with the Winchesters, she and Emma have become good friends".

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

There is a difference between what you tell your parents and what you do instead. The hunter's house is not far from the family home. Donna has been spending a lot of time with him recently. Lustful moans, rapid breathing and the rhythmic banging of wood against a wall are the sounds that flood his bedroom at this moment.

Donna and the hunter. It's not official yet. They spend most of their time together in their house and enjoy everything they've only ever dreamed of. The two have known each other since they were children. They actually grew up like siblings, but the older they got, the more they realized that they wanted more than just to be friends.

They let their feelings run free until well after midnight. "You really are incredible, Donna, but at some point even the strongest man needs a break. ". She raised an eyebrow and made a pouty face. "hnn, and I thought we could still until tomorrow morning…"/ "hahaha, oh no, really… Hey, I have to get up soon"/ "mmh. All right." He stroked her face tenderly, kissed her and then let himself fall to the side.

Exhausted and satisfied, they lay next to each other. "How much longer do you want to wait, Donna? Your parents should be allowed to know by now, shouldn't they?"/ "hnn, I actually find it quite appealing when we have a little secret"/ "Our relationship isn't a problem… Yes, I lived under the same roof as you and your parents for many years, but everything is different now and I get on with your parents"/ "Oh Dean…"

"What, huh? Your parents are allowed to know… We're not kids anymore, Donna"/ "I know. Hhh, okay, I'll talk to them, all right?"/

"We! I'll come with you, not that you're going to back out"/

"All right, then you're coming with me. I have to help my dad again tomorrow anyway. Man, this work is really boring, I'd rather be doing something else. And I also have to look after the three orphans".

"oh yes, the three who live up by the waterfall…"/ "i'm the dear aunt who looks after them. but Rupert is slowly turning into a man. He wants to be a craftsman now and is attending school again.". Dean raised an eyebrow with a confident look on his face and took a deep breath. "And I can hunt." She had to smile a little. "hnhn, yes, you're very good at that. And in a few days, it'll be Gratitude Day again. We should be grateful that we ended up here and not in the floods.". Dean got a different look on his face. Annoyed. "Yeah, and I'm only allowed to hunt on assignment again and not for fun, it's really boring."

Donna stroked his face and smiled sympathetically. "I know it's not very challenging for you. But you're the one who gets us the meat when we need it. You're the best hunter I know. And we've got everything under control so far, haven't we? I need to sleep now…"/ "O.k….". Donna lay down next to him under the comforter and closed her eyes. While he thought for a moment. "One day… One day I'll shoot a really big one!".

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

End of Part one

Credits: Thanks to Lover's Lab for the Passion mod, which my Sims always have a lot of fun with😊😆in (it's like the Kinky, only with fewer functions, but it's enough for me) Bed Pose by Skylar (?) I'm not sure right now. I'll check again next time.^^

#sims3 #simsstories #Sparks Family #caracan #Michael Sparks #Vinetta Sparks #Donna Sparks #Dean Colt #Hunter #a little bit of Passion

[beck-hartman]

What a question to ask a couple of teens | Beck.

When: December 16, 2023.

The wind was bitter, inviting all the familiar sting and scents of the coming holiday. Christmas was days away, and Beck found himself alone--a horrible thing to be. His mind hadn't been far from the store he spent much of the latter part of senior year in and out of, and a gift on his list had finally brought a need to return.

Seventeen-Eighteen. What a year to be making life-altering decisions. But when you know...when you have no doubts? The memory lost the sparkle the time actually held, as if his mind left the cloud he hadn't seen hovering in real time. The man--no, the kid--he envisioned possessed more foolishness, more naivete, more bliss-induced ignorance.

"You know, to get from Hart to Hartman, all you need is a man." It was perhaps the lamest of his jokes, but it made her laugh every time. She'd come back with a far better quip about him taking hers instead when they got married. When. Not If. They spoke in whens back then, as though speaking of inevitabilities. He had wondered in the last eight years how many times she'd said it knowing she wasn't going to stay with him, knowing she no longer believed they could beat anything. His dreams too big and her convinced hers weren't big enough.

Hand on the handle, he took a sharp, quick inhale and pushed. The chime rang through the store with its striking familiarity. The one place he'd avoided, he found it exactly as he'd last left it this same time in 2015. It was a time capsule, filled to the brim with nostalgia and old hopes.

"Mr. Hartman." Same store owner, same warmth in his greeting. He held an understanding in his eyes, in the wisdom of the lines that crinkled around them when he smiled.

As if pushing play on an old tape, his gaze traced over the crystal clear cases, rewinding through the years further and further in time. He was seventeen, in here for the first time to look for something to bridge the path from childhood sweethearts to adulthood: a symbol of the forever they continually promised one another. He found it in an oval halo cut diamond with gold band, simple yet elegant and set in a way that reminded Beck a bit of flowers. She was always happiest when he brought her flowers, so it seemed perfect to put one eternally on her finger.

Visit after visit spanned his memory, filled with the echoes of "is it still here?" He waited day after day with the kind of patience held by children awaiting Santa's visit. It would have to be his own money, an idea to this day he didn't know why he was so determined to uphold, but that path had enough 'what if's to drown him.

Then he was eighteen, coming full circle in the memory. She's gone. That was another odd thing, he never really said 'she left me'. She was just gone. Maybe that truth was easier to bear than a choice that was made, a surrender in a fight for them. In the end, it was all loss.

He still saved the money up as planned, came back, stood here. Why he did it would never have an answer, a sort of self-flogging that was undeserved. His only crime had been to dream bigger than reality allowed and miss the signs of his relationship failing.

Twenty-six. He could see the look given, and though he hadn't come for that, the words tumbled out before he could think better of them.

"Is it still here?"

And finally, in all his moments of asking, the answer changed. "No." The tone was quiet, empathetic, knowing. "I held onto it as long as I could for you, Beck. There are others like it, but it's not--"

"--The same, I know," Beck finished for him. Too much time had passed. "I was just curious. We're not there yet anyway." Anymore died a painful, burning death in the back of his throat. Maybe they had never been there at all, maybe it was something kids together as long as they were said. Maybe he was the only one who was ever standing here, saying he'd do it in a heartbeat. "It's Christmas, so I'm here to get her something else actually..."

---

After hiding the gift in his room, he took a moment at the marina. It was a long time ago. He'd already accepted the loss a thousand times over, but like a scab, it kept breaking open to bleed again. His heart had a bruising grip around it, pressure on his chest only fresh, ocean air might possibly release.

The optimist in him said dreams were made to inspire, to find the goals in them to mold them into reality. But maybe that's not what they were. Maybe they were simply visions of hope, something to keep lights shining, fires burning. Perhaps it was reality that had to be accepted as it came, taking the steps only as they were presented to you. Oh, but can a dreamer really stop dreaming?

The odds had always been against them, and the dream wasn't dead, not entirely. Maybe it was like the ring itself, it couldn't be the same but that didn't mean the one for them wasn't out there. It was now less of an inevitability and more of a maybe someday. The love would last forever either way. If standing on the beach in the middle of the End of Summer Bash had showed them anything, it was they'd always be in love. This was their real thing.

Beck didn't ask for much, for so long it was two things: to travel and to marry Shosh. Well, he got one. Even if it would have been the thing sacrificed if he'd been asked to choose between them. Whatever dreams were, this one needed to be put away for the foreseeable future. This was time she needed, and time was something he could give her.

And that was the story. That was the reality of it. The ring was gone, to somebody with hopefully a better story to tell, and maybe one day there would be another. His weight resting through his forearms onto the pier, Beck wasn't sure how to feel about that, maybe he'd never be. And that's just what it was.

Making his way to a secluded spot, he took the joint from his pocket he'd picked up when he dropped the gift off. A flicker of flame, inviting an end of this pain.

Is it still here?

No.

--

Where'd you go?

I was in New York.

--

Six months?

Seven months, thirteen days.

--

I was in New York…multiple times. Harley was up there too, and I went to visit him.

I know. Well, I assumed. Harley and I were together a lot in New York, he actually worked at the bar with me...

--

For what it’s worth, I wanted to tell you. But Shosh didn’t want you to know and it wasn’t my relationship so I didn’t feel like it was my place, you know?

--

You should leave.

--

I’m not the same anymore, Beck.

Rising from deep within his very soul, he released a guttural scream. The sound carried away by winds and waves into the depths of the ocean until his throat ached and weight lifted. Hitting his knees first, he collapsed back onto the sand as he flicked his lighter open again bringing it to the stick now pressed between his lips until the end began to simmer. Smoke entered his lungs like a warm blanket against the cold. Numbness followed, vanishing into an empty mind. The world seemed brighter again, or maybe that was the sun above him.

How rare it is to meet your soulmate when you’re only four years old, and how cruel when it's not as simple as such luck should be.

#( self para. ) #( loved you first when we were children | beck & shosh. ) #weed tw #drug use tw #drug use = smoking weed #// this broke my heart into tiny pieces and I spent way too much time in it but I wanted it out of my head #but gosh I forgot how much I love a self para tho.

[co-mixed]

Tropes and Visions

Taking a long look at the nature of fictional villains

Just the other day I asked myself why did I suddenly fall for the vision Toyo Harada planted in the minds of his followers at the beginning of Imperium. It seemed so perfect: peace and prosperity. Pretty much the same world we envision when we hear the word “future”. Neo-futurism, if you may. A world without borders and with mutual respect. It seems so easy and so achievable, at the same time it’s the one thing we repeatedly fail to achieve.

What is evil?

When we were kids, things in fiction were simple. A hero never killed, a villain - did. But any villain had to be obviously almost grotesquely evil. Whether they were guided by their own selfish goals or enjoyed chaos for the sake of chaos. Then we graduated to multi-layered villains. Still, the most favorite ones were driven insane. Sometimes with merely a spark of humanity left deep inside. There’s always a point to either make a villain absolutely inexcusable or keep them redeemable preferably by death. Your Docs. Ocks and Anakins were all allowed to keep their dignity if they exited the story in a body bag.

But today’s villains have to be much more. Otherwise, they’re deemed unbelievably simple (even despite the fact that we see absolute, unforgivable evil done on a regular basis). We want to dig deeper, to be able to understand what drives them. Maybe that’s what second-wave villains have taught us. But maybe it’s something else. 

Does it take a villain 

The best villains in movies or comics have one thing in common — their good intentions. We often find ourselves siding with them, at least for a short while before they go off on a killing spree. And that’s something they inevitably do. 

On the other side, before they do, they get to show you how much better the world could be if they’re just allowed to execute their vision (along with some people but who’s counting). The point is, they are ready to get their hands dirty to achieve their goal. 

Let’s take Magneto as the best possible example. His goal was not peace between the mutants and the humans. He wanted to ensure the survival of his kind. He himself survived the holocaust and was prepared to do anything to save fellow mutants from the same fate. Yes, he went back and forth (a lot), he’s been called a terrorist and he didn’t shy away from killing. He never abandoned his views yet only with his help mutants finally got their utopia on Krakoa. And I might not be the biggest fan of this arc, but that doesn’t make it any less prophetic. Xavier’s peaceful methods were never enough. Magneto made their “last attempt” a success. 

But that’s just one example, and we’re not here to gush about Magneto. This whole thing was inspired by Harada and it’s his path that I want to review. 

Toyo Harada is a more complex example of the same trope. A child of war, a powerful individual, a visionary (all of them are), and a hero to his kind. 

His actions may be more brutal than Magneto’s but his goal is closer to home. It’s Xavier's dream with Magneto’s approach. It’s the whole world becoming an ideal and non-secluded version of Krakoa. And maybe the most devastating part is that it’s achievable with or without psiots. To drive the point further, Harada makes a special point of condemning war profiteering. In fact, if you read Imperium, you’re likely to start wondering who and where is making money on wars. 

Toyo Harada is trying to help the most disenfranchised and neglected. He isn’t great at it. But he still gets closer to that goal than anyone with peaceful measures.

That may be because Harada is prepared to remove anyone who stands in his way. Sometimes it’s a government, sometimes it’s terrorists, sometimes it’s regular people. To him, there is no difference and that makes his way the wrong way.

Why can’t they just be nice 

We call the ones who kill antiheroes. Your Punishers, Wolverines, (possibly) Bloodshots, they get the job done with a body count longer than your phone number. If there is a line and it’s not at killing, then how come antiheroes manage to longe behind it while visionaries inevitably end up crossing it? They rush towards their goal with such ferocity, they step on seemingly irrelevant people that they’re hoping to help. 

Antiheroes always have a strong moral code, it’s their shield against crossing the line that even we, readers, don’t always see. Even anti they’re still heroes. If the code isn’t enough, there’s always a failsafe that they’re aware of. Something or someone that can end them. Punisher is just a man, Toyo Harada is just short of omnipotent. 

This is a bold statement but if you’re a human or humanoid, tropes strongly suggest that you aren’t capable of handling the weight of enormous power. There is something religious about it that circles back to idolizing another human being. Gods can be flawed but have to be adored. Powerful humans can’t.

This isn’t a writers’ collusion. This is just a trope that gives your villain depth. It makes you feel compassion and it makes you as a reader, mentally define that proverbial no-crossing line. 

Does peace mean no change 

Here’s the billion-dollar question. Are we supposed to believe that the noblest goals are always a lie? Because this is what’s being repeated in the form of these villains. Krakoa is deeply flawed, Harada’s paradise is thousands of starving people, Killmonger just wants chaos, Namor drowns a nation. The list could go on and somehow it always comes back to this one statement - a most beautiful promise has to be a lie. We are rotating around the same idea that Utopia is always a trick. There is a healthy bit of logic behind this too, and a thick tome of world history to support this bit. There are always going to be rebels and they will always be punished. Are we supposed to protect the status quo? Not really, just look around – it’s no good. But if we challenge it, we have to vow to be squeaky clean and keep in mind our own limits.

All that is impossible for a villain. Even with the best intentions. You might get emotionally involved yet you will have to realize that the status quo is still better than an unpredictable power-hungry madman. Note that “powerful” doesn’t mean “satisfied”. 

They all end up power-hungry. Why? Again, history and experience. Great power is required for great achievement. And power corrupts. 

Oh, great power, you say…

You guessed it. A powerful person becomes a villain when they stop feeling responsible for their actions. When there’s no one to hold them accountable. This means that all the aforementioned villains had one problem in common — no one to challenge them. That’s when their moral compass went to hell. Yes, all these stories are cautionary tales warning us to not let one person grab and grab and grab power. It does take a villain to build a paradise but it does take a hero to step down. In his fantasy Toyo Harada did just that, he built a paradise and left it as a legacy. 

It was easy to fall for this vision. The world we live in is so broken, many of us would deal with the devil to fix it.

The vision was a lie, everyone saw what they yearned to see. And Harada himself didn’t really care about the people. He was a visionary, he cared about his vision. 

#long reads #villain #supervillain #superheroes #antiheroes #comics #valiant comics #valiant #toyo harada #livewire #harbinger #magneto #krakoa #fiction #fictional villains #comics thoughts #thoughts #essay

[recreancyrpg]

BASICS.

NAME. John Dawlish AGE. 22 ALUMNI HOUSE. Hufflepuff BLOOD STATUS. Half-blood FACECLAIM. John Boyega

HISTORY.

Nobody in John’s family expected him to be an Auror. The Dawlishes were solid, dependable, sensible middle-class wix. They lived solid, dependable, sensible lives. They weren’t flashy people who went around doing silly, reckless things like Curse Breaking or flying sport professionally or taming dragons... or joining the Auror Department. But John had always had a keen sense of right and wrong, and an urge to stop the latter. It had made him a good prefect in school, and to the surprise of everyone except perhaps Professor Sprout when he’d been looking over career literatures in his fifth year, he’d found himself irresistibly drawn to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Even that wouldn’t have been too bad by his family’s standards: a career in the Magical Law Enforcement Career wasn’t common for Dawlishes, but there had been a few M.L.E.P. wix over the years. 

But that wasn’t what John wanted. He didn’t want to just keep the peace. He wanted to stop the bad guys. He wanted to be an Auror. It took a lot of hard work, but John had never been afraid of that. He put his head down, studied hard, and got to work. Maybe that was usually viewed as the Ravenclaw way, but John knew better. Ravenclaws were intelligent, but half of them were stuck with their heads in the clouds, envisioning pretty dreams and using their imaginations to be creative. Hufflepuff was where it was truly at if you wanted to get something done. When a Hufflepuff committed to something, then they were loyal. And John was loyal to his future - and to a world where justice prevailed. 

He got accepted into the program and started his three years in training. He learned about the rules that Aurors had to follow, but John was never afraid of rules. He liked rules, in fact; good, fair, clearly defined rules were what a healthy society was built on. It was perhaps little wonder that he excelled at his training. As difficult as some of it was, it also made sense. There was a bright clear line from point A to point B, and all John had to do was buckle down and work hard and get there. Whenever he had a goal in mind and a clearly-defined set of parameters to work within, there wasn’t much that John Dawlish couldn’t do. The problems started after he’d finally earned that badge.

The Auror Department wasn’t as just as he’d expected. Some of the officials were corrupt - following orders in a Ministry full of people that were probably Death Eaters themselves. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was out of control and the Aurors, with their strict rules and guidelines, were hardly making any leeway. It was that vigilante group that was truly doing the fighting, John realized. But joining something so illegal was not in his plan. He spent the first half of his first year as an Auror mostly doing paperwork and being the office runaround boy to older, more experienced colleagues. He didn’t get much fieldwork as he witnessed the destruction that continued to happen every day. So he fell into the trap that was the Order of the Phoenix with Alastor Moody bringing him into the fold. He’s only been part of the Order for the last six months - one of the newest members - and in that amount of time, the purebloods have been returned, the Order flipped on it’s head. And, despite his training and experience, he’s considered a rookie to people here, too. People like Peter Pettigrew or even the young kid Edgar Bones. It’s maddening and John is determined to prove himself.

CONNECTIONS.

ALASTOR MOODY. Moody’s methods as an Auror aren’t exactly John’s favorite, but there’s no doubt that the wizard has experience. John looks up to him in a way, while being slightly afraid of him in other ways. Moody isn’t reckless, though, which is something John can appreciate. Alastor’s the one who got him involved in the Order, as well. That must mean something, even if they wouldn’t classify as friends. Maybe a mentor is the better word. FELICITY PEMBLETON. Felicity is the kind of person that John feels compelled to fight for. That justice that is always powering his motives. Because she’d been accepted - until she wasn’t. If there’s anything important to a Hufflepuff, it’s fairness, and how is what happened to her fair at all? All due to the discovery of her blood-status and she’d been shut out, just like that. John is proud to fight for someone like her. MARLENE MCKINNON. What happened to her was awful - of course it was! John hadn’t been there at the time, but he’d joined the Order before her return. And he’s sympathetic, but he still doesn’t approve of the way she’s throwing caution to the wind since her return. He remembers her from school - they were in the same year, same house! - and she’d never been so reckless before. He’s afraid she’s only making things worse for herself.

JOHN IS OPEN.

#harry potter rp #harry potter roleplay #harry potter rpg #marauders rp #marauders roleplay #john dawlish #john dawlish bio #character bio #open #hufflepuff #half blood

[space-blue]

The lesson Vander taught Silco

A Theory on Vander's Betrayal

I have a hot take for you guys. I know we don't all agree on what led to the Betrayal, but please consider this :

Silco tells Deckard about this lesson he learnt "when I was about your age" that "power comes to those who would do anything to achieve it"

But, Silco did not get power. He got drowned. He got pushed down to his lowest. What he did to Vander on the day of the betrayal (stabbing and slicing him) was simply to free himself. He's been lurking in the shadows ever since, and though he plans ahead, he has no guarantee that he will succeed, even if he's now ready to do anything to get there... He has not yet achieved power. Ever actually, as far as we can tell.

So... What if he's actually talking about Vander?

My personal take as a fanfic writer has become that Vander turned on him as they became the de-facto rulers of the Lanes, and went on to lead solo. Probably because Silco wanted Piltover's respect and was not satisfied with the Lanes' respect. (As per their dialogue in episode 3). I am envisioning Vander as someone who was much more brutal, much more power driven. Someone who helped Silco craft the Lanes with his charisma but also (mostly) his fists. He was a "Hound", and as we meet him I feel like we're blinded by the fact he argues for peace and is a good father figure. Silco wants freedom and is also a caring father (not looking for that debate here). If you just summarize them that way, they're both lovely men! Except we meet Vander caving someone's skull in, and his first dialogue is to threaten two people of death over short changing someone in his pub.

Vander also threatens Marcus explicitly, relying heavily on his reputation with his gauntlets. His reputation as a killer. He's not some benevolent ruler, and he doesn't exactly take feedback either. Sevika leaves after he refuses to yield. Sure we don't want him to sacrifice the kids either but... it's just a strong representation of his word being as good as the law, and that being backed by his reputation as a dangerous man.

SO!! What if Vander did "anything to achieve power" :

Drowning his beloved brother — and... yeah, it worked.

Silco was pushed to the shadows, and Vander achieved total domination of the Undercity.

He taught that lesson to Silco, and Silco has not yet enacted it himself, but is about to when we meet him, and is likewise willing to sacrifice his brother to reach for the power he needs to achieve his plans for a Nation of Zaun.

I see a lot of takes that Silco must have done something to "deserve" getting drowned. Yet the show is clear : Vander never tries to shake off the accusations of betrayal. No crimes are laid at Silco's feet. We project Vander being a good guy trying to kill a man who has "gone too far"... Yet Vander goes on to lead rebellions that kill a ton of zaunites! He goes on to regret what he did to Silco! That makes his character so much more confusing than the simple progression I'm offering here, imo.

Vander was a nasty, murderous man with big fists and a thirst for violence and power, channeled by Silco's ideology and dreams. Silco trusted him like a hound on a leash, happy to have him at his side and never expecting him to turn those impulses against him (because they shared the dream, so how could he?)

Vander was the villain who created Silco, showed him that nothing short of absolute ruthlessness truly pays. And then he matured, then he repented. Then he regretted the bloodshed, and the hurt he dealt to Silco. Yet he never truly changed his ways. He didn't reach out, and he kept a tight fist on the Lanes.

This makes for a more linear progression of his character, and a simpler explanation over all. Nothing dire needs to have happened. They reached a point where leadership could be seized. Vander took it. Maybe Silco said something to enrage him, or resisted being "demoted" and things escalated. It's very easy to imagine young Vander having little control over his anger issues.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#Vander #Silco #the betrayal #base violence necessary for change #Arcane #arcane lol #arcane vander #arcane silco #silco (lol) #vander (lol) #meta #theory #arcane league of legends #silco league of legends #league of legends #arcane netflix #arcane series #arcane theory #fanfic #brothers #rip #drowning

[dreamerstreamer]

A Terrible Tutor

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [High School!AU] He’s cocky, annoying, a total tease, has a laugh loud enough to shake the stars, and you hate him. But as luck would have it, he’s also your tutor.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: minor cursing

A/N: this is based on a classmate i had way back! (we did not fall in love. he was awful.) i’ve also never taken physics, but i tried something a bit new for the reader’s personality. i hope you enjoy :) <3

You glared down at your physics textbook, the open pages staring back up at you with beady eyes made of diagrams and labels. Off to the side, your notebook was strewn across your desk, a list of questions scribbled across the top line in a hurried rush. The handwriting was messier than you would have liked, but the thought didn’t irritate you.

What did irritate you was that it was nearly half past four, and your so-called tutor still hadn’t shown up.

You could still envision the concerned look on Mr. Craftson’s face as he held you back a moment after class, watching as the rest of your classmates poured out of the door with an anxious look. He had offered you a kind smile before pulling out your test from the week before, and you winced at the numerous red marks scattered across the front page alone.

“I know you’ve been struggling in this class,” he said, gazing at you almost pitifully.

You tried not to glower at the sight of his apologetic eyes trained on you, instead nodding your head slowly. “It’s been… hard,” you said slowly.

He leaned an arm on his chair, pushing your test toward you. “You ask questions in class,” he hummed, “and from what I’ve seen, you complete your homework diligently.” His smile fell. “Yet here you are me, with the lowest mark in my class.”

You wanted to shrivel up into a ball. Maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but he wasn’t wrong, either.

At your silence, he prodded at you. “Is there anything going on at home that might be hindering you, or…?”

You whipped your head up, your eyes wide. “No! Things are—things are great. It’s just…”

You swallowed, then sighed, fidgeting your fingers on your lap. “I guess,” you murmured, trying to quell the shame flaring up inside you, “I’ve just been really struggling with the material, and none of it’s really been clicking.”

Mr. Craftson’s face softened in an instant. “That’s alright. Thank you for being honest with me. If my teaching hasn’t been working out with you…”

He paused, rubbing at the blond stubble on his chin for a moment. Then, his face lit up and he leaned forward. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ve got a great student who I think might be able to explain things to you in a way you might be able to grasp a little better. He’s got the best marks in this class.”

Your eyes widened. The best in the class? He had to be a genius.

“I have a good feeling he can meet you tomorrow at four after school to help you out,” he continued, leaning against the arm rest of his office chair. “What do you say?”

You blinked, a thoughtful look passing over your face. Lord knew you needed the help—you were practically failing the class—but an uneasy stone settled into the pit of your stomach. You’ve never needed tis much help to pass a class before. The thought made you want to gag. Slowly, you opened your mouth.

“Do I have to…” You gestured vaguely. “Pay him or something?”

His cerulean eyes blinked at you for a second, then he laughed—the kind of deep-belly laugh only teachers seemed to be able to have. “No, no,” he said, waving his hand at you, “not at all. He’s a good kid. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

You bobbed your head, your insides crumbling. You didn’t want to accept, you really didn’t. Part of you guys wanted to believe that you could just work harder, study by yourself even more. You were a dedicated student, and you were doing just fine in all your other classes. Surely the content couldn’t get that much harder, right?

But as your gaze lowered to the red ink staining your test once more, you felt yourself swallowing the lump in your throat. Straightening your back, you let your stubborn pride seep out of your shoulders and onto the floor.

It looked like this was a sacrifice you were simply going to have to make.

“Thank you so much for the offer,” you said, letting your lips curl up into a genuine, grateful smile. “It—it really means a lot.”

Mr. Craftson grinned at you, an easygoing flint shining in his eyes. “Of course. You’re a bright student. Sometimes we all just need a little push.”

You could still remember shaking his hand in thanks before bundling your stuff in your arms and shuffling into the hall, tucking your feet between the pages of your textbook. That had been yesterday, and now, the same one was sitting on your desk, open to a new page full of jumbled words you could hardly decipher.

The chair across from you was distinctly empty.

He—whoever he was—was late.

You distantly wondered to yourself who your tutor even was, your gaze drifting down to your textbook. Mr. Craftson had said he was the best student taking the class. Would it be George? He always seemed like he knew what was going on, and he never really asked questions. But sometimes, he looked like he was just zoning out. Maybe it was Technoblade. He was smart. You paused, then shook your head. No, everyone knew he was one of those English kids.

The thought made you furrow your brows, wracking your head even more. The words on the page grew muddled and fuzzy as you thought even more. Just who was it?

Just then, you heard the classroom door swing open with the same loud creak every door in the school seemed to have. The sound of heavy breaths and panting filled the air, then a haggard voice spoke up.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

You didn’t look up from your page, letting a sigh escape your lips as you lifted your head. Plastering a polite smile to your face, you let your gaze travel toward your tutor. “Hi, it’s nice to me—”

Suddenly, your voice died in your throat as your eyes locked onto the figure standing in the doorway. Towering over the desks with a duffel bag resting against his hip, his dirty blond locks were damp and matted against his forehead, his emerald eyes blinking at you. Something bitter and warm twisted in your gut at the sight, and the smile dropped off your face and into a scowl.

“Oh,” you said flatly. “It’s you.”

The smile he offered you was easygoing, but you didn’t miss the strain in his gaze. “It’s me.”

You bit on the inside of your cheek, your heart practically revolting against your rib cage with the way it was hammering. A million questions were darting around the inside of your skull, only making your blood boil even more with each passing second.

Of all the people you had expected to show up, Clay was easily the last.

The two of you had first met back in freshman year in your first science class—he had sat behind you and had the loudest laugh on the planet, or so you were convinced. You were quieter back then, but just as stubborn and snappish as now. Soon enough, one thing led to another, and you swore the two of you were suddenly enemies for life.

Although you couldn’t remember what had caused your little feud, you knew that he was the one who started it. He was loud and kicked your chair, he just loved to borrow your pens and never return them, and you could never figure out just why he loved to tease you so much. You don’t think you learned a single thing in that class, always distracted by the presence staring a hole into your back, and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

Naturally, that meant your teacher assigned him to sit behind you for the rest of the year. To this day, you were convinced she hated you, and you still avoided her in the halls.

To say that science class was your least favourite would be an understatement, and soon enough, everybody was in on your hatred for each other. Clay never seemed to stop pestering you no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, and you would never forget the day you finally snapped at him, whipping around to glare at him with your cheeks on fire.

“Will you please shut up?”

The shocked look on his face was still burned into your memory as it melted into a wide, proud grin.

“Only if you make me.”

Even years later, he always seemed to find a way to worm himself back into your life, and you hated it. You hated him, simple as that.

So, seeing him standing in front of you like this, it took every ounce of your strength to keep your voice as neutral as possible.

“What took you so long?”

He patted his duffel bag before slipping it off his shoulder and setting it on the ground. “I just finished football practice. Coach ran a little long and I figured it would be polite to take a shower before so I didn’t smell all sweaty when I tutored you.”

You blinked, your mouth falling open. That explained his wet hair, you guessed. While you were vaguely flattered, you were distracted by something else. “You knew that you would be tutoring me?”

Clay nodded, pulling back the chair in front of you. “Yeah. Phil asked me.”

You gaped. “You call Mr. Craftson by his first name?”

His smile was a touch too smug for your liking, and you wanted to wipe it off his face. “Maybe. I was surprised when he asked, though.” He wrinkled his nose and shot you a teasing smirk as he sat down. “I didn’t think you would be failing this class.”

You glowered, that same bitter feeling bubbling up in your chest, again. “I’m not failing,” you snapped. “I’m just…” You paused, your cheeks growing hot. “…not passing.”

He gave you a deadpan look, then laughed. “That’s the same thing.”

You sent him a gesture that your teacher most certainly would have scolded you for if he was here, and he laughed even harder. You were suddenly reminded of just how damn loud his laugh was, sounding like fireworks in your ears. Slumping over, you hung your head in your hands.

“Ugh. I can’t believe you knew you were going to be tutoring me of all people.” You paused, then added, “I can’t believe you agreed.”

He tilted his head at you, brushing his damp hair out of his face. “Did you not know I was gonna be your tutor?”

“No.” You frowned. “If I did, I wouldn’t have shown up.”

His eyes flickered with mirth as a smile stretched across his face. “Aw, am I really that disagreeable?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, your gaze as sharp as a blade. “Without a doubt. A hundred percent. I didn’t even have to think about it.”

He whistled, feigning a wince. “Harsh.”

Wryly, you said, “You deserve it.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I wasn’t that bad as a freshman, was I?”

You gave him a hard, callous stare. “Do you really think I’m the one you should be asking that question?”

He thought about it for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, point taken.”

You dragged a hand over your face, then pointed at your textbook. “Are you going to teach me now or what? We’re already behind.”

He winced for real this time, and you almost felt bad for him. Almost. “Sorry, again.”

“Seriously,” you muttered under your breath, reaching into your back to grab your pencil case, “and to think that you have the highest grades in this class.”

“Hey,” he shot back, “I’m brains and brawn.”

You shot him a look that was nothing short of disgusted. He cringed a little at the sight.

“Okay, that was cheesy, but I’m not wrong. Besides, coach says I have to keep my grades up or else I’m off the team.” He leaned closer to you, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his hot breath fanning over your skin. “You know I can’t let everyone down like that.”

You looked unconvinced. “Uh huh. Totally.” Whipping out a pencil, you tapped at the bottom of the page you had open. “Can you explain this to me, now? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave.”

He quietly chuckled, and you hated how soft it sounded. Leaning closer to the textbook to read, his lips mouthed the problem silently. You tried not to stare at his mouth as it moved, your gaze tracing over the soft dip of his lips as his viridian eyes flashed with recognition. A moment later, he sat back and cocked his head at you.

“So, what exactly do you not understand?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Everything.”

He blinked, disbelief colouring his features. “Everything? Like, the whole thing?”

You scowled. “I thought that was obvious. All that stuff about velocity and the funny diagrams—” You shook your head. “—none of it makes sense.”

He raised a brow at you. “I thought you were paying attention in class. You really don’t understand a single thing?”

You bit back the urge to scream. “It’s not like you’re much smarter.”

Clay snorted derisively. “I am. That’s kind of the whole point.”

You groaned, letting your voice ring out in the quiet of the empty classroom. You caught a glimpse of his amused smile in front of you, and it only made you groan louder.

“You’re the one who ruined science for me, you know? I hated going to that class, and look at me now.” You gestured to yourself, using your finger to draw a ring in the air. “It all comes full circle.”

There was a brief second of silence. “I’m the reason why you hate science?”

You didn’t budge. “I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy knowing I was going to be stuck in a class with someone who never gave me my stuff back and kicked my chair.”

Another wave of silence washed over the two of you, but this one was tense—heavy. He swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“You…” His eyes swirled with something sad and honest. “You really hate me that much?”

He suddenly looked a lot like a kicked puppy, and a pang of guilt shot through your chest like a bullet. With a panicked gaze, your voice grew shaky as you spoke. “I—I don’t hate you. I just… I had a grudge, I guess.”

Your tone grew soft, and you lowered your gaze to your lap. “I… I really didn’t like you back then, but things have changed.” You offered him a small smile, but it felt shy. “We’re not exactly fourteen, anymore.”

He returned your smile with one of his own. Just like yours, it was small and tender, and it sent something stirring in the depths of your belly. “No,” he murmured, “we’re not.”

“I,” you breathed, gulping down the last dredges of your grudge, “was stubborn back then.” You raised a shoulder. “In a way, I still am. I have too much pride for my own good too, but I don’t hate you.” The look you sent him had a spark of mischief, and his breath hitched. “Strongly dislike, at best.”

Clay blinked at you, looking half-surprised and half-awed at you. You squirmed under his gaze before he snapped out of his stupor, almost bashfully ducking his head. “I’m… It’s definitely too late for me to say this now when I really should have said it all those years ago, but I’m sorry. Really. I was a dick.”

You snorted under your breath, fondly mumbling, “Yeah, you were.”

His face perked up at the sound of your bitten back laugh. “I really shouldn’t have teased you so much. My reasons were… dumb.”

You cocked a brow at him, almost as if to say, Oh? Do elaborate.

But instead, you watched as his ears burned crimson red and he flashed you a pair of bright, pleading eyes. “Forgive me? Please.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, something new and warm bursting along the seams of your lungs. You couldn’t possibly say no to a face like that. Even the toughest person on the planet would crack under a look as sincere as that, you tried to reason, ultimately letting out a sigh with a stammer.

“O-Only if you actually can get me to understand this unit.” Pushing down the heat creeping up your neck, you pointed at him with an accusatory look. “Until then, you’re on thin ice.”

The grin he sent you was beyond dazzling—you couldn’t have brought yourself to look away even if you wanted to.

(And you didn’t.)

“Gotcha.”

Clay finished scribbling a diagram onto the new page of your notebook, flicking his thumb back to reveal the hordes of previous pages you had filled with other practice problems. If you were being honest, you were a little envious of just how neat his drawings were. No one should be able to draw a line as straight as that without a ruler, yet here he was, doing exactly that.

What a show-off.

Feeling your eyes on him, Clay lifted his head to catch your gaze, turning the notebook to face you. You tried to pretend the stumbling of your heart wasn’t because of him—not at all. “Do you get it?” he breathed.

You glanced back and forth between him and your page, your grip on your pencil falling slack. “I think so,” you said slowly. “Mostly, at least.”

He hummed for a moment, then flipped your notebook around until it was facing him again and holding an expectant, open hand toward you. Without even thinking, you dropped your pencil into his palm, a spark running up your fingers at the slight brush of his skin against yours. Carefully, he wrote a string of words on a new line, circling the sentence when he was done.

“Here,” he said gently, pushing the pencil back between your fingers, “try this question. This was one of the harder ones from my test.”

Gingerly, you peered down at the page, and your mouth fell open at the sight. This question was far more complicated than anything you had been solving in the textbook before this. What was he thinking?

“If you get it right,” he said suddenly, casting you out of your thoughts, “you should be all set.” His lips curved up into a taunting, knowing grin. “But it’s okay if you don’t get it—it is difficult, after all.”

You stared for a second longer, then grumbled under your breath. How could he read your mind like that? You were going to prove him wrong, even if only to knock that smug look off his face.

Leaning down, you tackled the problem head on, your pencil flying across the page as you spelled out formulas and equations, doodling a diagram when you had to and pausing to think every other breath. Before you, you didn’t see Clay watching you with a soft, tender gaze, taking in the way your fingers fidgeted against your pencil when you stopped and how you chewed on your mouth when you got nervous.

You really were more endearing than you could ever know.

Suddenly, you let your pencil clatter against the table as you pushed your notebook toward him, eyeing your pencil scratches with a wary look. “Done.”

His viridian eyes gleamed with excitement. “Alright,” he said, plucking the paper from your desk with a practiced ease, “let’s take a look.”

His gaze scanned your work intently, his lips pressed together in focus. You folded your hands onto your lap, trying to focus on his analysis of you work. But the longer you looked, the more you felt your gaze trailing up to graze his cheeks. Did he always have so many freckles? You didn’t remember seeing him with this many as a freshman, but you also spent more time glaring at him than staring at him back then.

In a way, he was kind of... pretty. Handsome, even. Not that you would ever say it out loud.

You suddenly had a strong urge to reach up and trace feather-light lines between each of his freckles, but before you could even take another breath, Clay’s eyes were on yours again. Unlike earlier, the look on his face was grave, and a small grimace overtook his features.

“I have bad news,” he said dryly.

Your heart fell.

Of course you got something wrong. You were a fool to think that things would change just because Clay would be teaching you instead.

But then, his grimace curled up at the corners, and your jaw dropped.

“I have nothing left to teach you in this unit.”

Your eyes widened.

“I got it right?”

He turned the notebook back to face you. A large check mark had been scribbled in pencil along the side of the page, a tiny smiley face decorating the corner next to it.

“Perfectly.”

The gasp you let out sent you barrelling for your feet, and you nearly started jumping for joy in the middle of your seat. “Yes!” you cried, pumping a hand up in the air. Suddenly, you whirled to point at Clay, a pout forming on your lips. “Oh my god, you scared the crap out of me! Don’t do that.”

He chuckled, leaning back with his hands up defensively. “Sorry, sorry. I saw the opportunity and just had to take it.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you stuck your tongue out at him. “You’re terrible.”

His eyes softened—sincere and sweet. “I know.”

Ignoring the sudden burst of warmth rushing through your veins, you huffed at him. “Well, at least I have two pieces of good news for you. First,” you said, sliding your notebook off your desk, “we can both go home, now.”

“And the second?” he prompted, looking at you inquisitively.

You folded your notebook shut, boring a hole into your backpack with the intensity of your stare. You couldn’t look at him right now, you just couldn’t.

“Second,” you nearly whispered, “I accept your apology.”

Slipping your textbook into your bag, you heard him take a sharp intake of breath. “Really?”

You reached for your pencil case, fumbling with the zipper. “Yes.”

There was another breath, but this one was gentler, less harsh. You peeked up at him from your bag, and your heart stuttered at the ecstatic look on his face.

“This,” he said, “is the greatest day of my life.”

You blinked wildly at him, zipping your backpack up all the way before slinging it onto the desk. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, his smile never once faltering. “Are you kidding? I thought you were going to hate my guts forever!”

You shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I might have.” You paused. “Actually, I probably would have. But luckily for you—” You shot him a sincere look. “—not anymore.”

His grin grew impossibly wider, yet it somehow still looked natural on him. Deep down, a part of you wanted to bottle up his expression and remember it for as long as you lived.

“Like I said, greatest day of my life.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Weirdo.”

Pushing in your chair and gesturing for him to stand, you jutted your head toward the door. Clay didn’t need to be queued twice before he was rising to his feet, pushing the chair back to its rightful spot before heaving his duffel bag off the floor and onto his side. As the two of you headed out towards the door, a bought suddenly flickered across your head, and your lips began moving before you could even begin to think.

“One of these days, you need to tell me why you liked to pick on me so much. Like, seriously, why me?” You gestured to yourself as the two of you stepped outside into the school hallway. “I’m not exactly special.”

You hadn’t been looking at him in that moment, focused on closing the door behind you, but when he didn’t respond for a moment, you looked up and felt your lungs tighten. You had never seen Clay look so bashful in his life, with his ears flaring crimson red and a faint rosy tint dusting the panes of his cheeks. His freckles were only more noticeable with the pink background, and you nearly blurted something you knew you would regret.

“Maybe I’ll—” He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Before you could even ask what he meant by that, he was firing off once more. “In the meantime, if you still need help, I don’t mind coming in again next week or something.”

You nearly took a double take. Next week? He wanted to help you, again?

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” you asked, scanning him with wide, curious eyes. “Like studying your own stuff.”

“You’re important,” he said abruptly.

You choked on your spit, and by the way he went absolutely stock still in front of you, you had a feeling he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Oh,” you whispered.

That warm, fuzzy feeling from earlier was rising between your lungs again, only this time it sent your heart racing around your chest. Sucking in a deep breath, you nodded your head once, twice.

“Sure,” you managed to say as calmly as you could. “The, um, the next unit looks a little confusing, so I might need some help.”

Clay’s face suddenly brightened at your soft request for assistance, and you caught his shoulders slumping with relief as he smiled. “Awesome.” He paused, then waved his hand. “Not the part about you needing help, I mean.”

You laughed a little at that, your nerves calming a bit more. “I would hope not.”

He smiled back at you. “So,” he said, drawing out the syllable, “I’ll be back same time next week?”

You couldn’t help but reach over to elbow him a little playfully. “Try to be on time though, yeah?”

He flushed a bit, but cracked a crooked grin nonetheless. “I’ll try my best.” He glanced over his shoulder down the hall, and you suddenly realized you would be heading in the opposite direction.

“I’ll see you around?” he murmured gently, brushing away his now dry hair from his forehead.

One of your hands tightened around the straps of your bag while the other waved back at him. “See you.”

With one last grin at you, you watched as he turned on his heel, striding down the hall with his duffel bag bouncing against the side of his hip. Just then, your eyes grew wide, and you cupped your hands around your mouth to call after him.

“One last thing, Clay!” you shouted, your voice echoing down the empty corridor.

At the sound of his name, he whipped around again, his brows knitted together. Breathing in deeply, you screwed your eyes shut and called out once more.

“Thank you!”

When you opened your eyes again, his emerald green eyes were blinking at you with wild abandon, his lips parted in what could only be described as a look of pure wonder. Your heart skipped a beat, and you wondered why he was looking at you of all people like that.

Swallowing, he sent you a lopsided, earnest smile and cupped his own hands around his mouth to shout back at you.

“Anytime!”

You kept waving at him even after he let his arms drop back to his sides and he vanished around the corner of the hall. Almost immediately, you bent over to bury your head into your knees, letting out a soft, muffled yell.

Why did your chest feel so warm when he looked at you like that? Why did you want to count his freckles so badly when he smiled? Was he always so nice, so helpful and kind? Why did he look so cute when his face flushed all pink like the way it did before? When did he become so endearing instead of annoying?

Did you like him?

You let out another muffled cry into your hands, feeling heat flood every part of your body like a tidal wave crashing into your system. You could hear your heart ringing in your ears like a bell that wouldn’t ever stop, and your toes curled into your shoes.

You had so, so many questions, none of which you knew how to solve.

Hopefully Clay could help you figure out the answers.

#mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #mcyt imagines #mcyt imagine #mcyt scenario #mcyt reactions #dream smp x reader #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp x y/n #dsmp x you #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x you #dream x reader #dream x you #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken scenario #dreamwastaken fluff #dreamwastaken fanfic #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #dream fanfic #dream imagine #dream imagines #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp imagines

[deleteddewewted]

May I ask for a Hawks x gn! Child Reader with fluff 5? I honestly don’t know why, but I feel like he’d be the fun and goofy type of dad/guardian.

Aaah! I get what you mean. I'm sure that the following isn't what you envisioned anon but the idea of Hawks taking in a child whom he can relate to and be himself around is adorable. So, very sorry for not having too much dad Hawks/guardian Hawks moments.

Guardian Of A Little Angel

Parent! Hawks x Gn! Child Reader

💕💜Counting Memories Event💜💕: Now Closed!

💕💜Counting Memories Event Masterlist💜💕

Fluff:

5)“I’ll give up everything in this world to make sure you’re safe with me.”

If you'd like to support my work (Check my Ko-fi and Throne!)

The police sirens and the dark night surrounding them made the scene look movie-like. He didn’t remember the last time he’s ever had to do something like this, now that he thought about it, he probably has never had to do this.

The police were walking in and out of a house, hauling people and boxes full of things that didn’t belong. The people they took out were screaming about how they didn’t do anything wrong. The police wouldn’t be here if they didn’t. He paced back and forward from the sidelines, waiting for any indication that he was allowed onto the scene. His queue finally came in the sound of….silence.

“Hawks, thank you for being here. We need you to help out with uh…a little problem inside.” The blond was calm, nothing was able to phase him. The rain and the light made his hair shine in the night giving him an ethereal glow to his being. His crimson feathers looking more blood red when in the dark. He looked massive, his back being misinterpreted for that of a hulking being rather than his wings making him look like the angel savior he depicted to the public. He looked like death and was death all at the same time.

Hawks pulled out one of his larger feathers and followed the police officer into the residency. It was lightly illuminated by the flashlights and lanterns the other police officers were using, giving the home a blue hue. As they made their way into the second floor, Hawks took note of the surroundings. Ash from cigarettes and the cigarette butts were all over the place, bullet holes as decorated the walls. The officer brought him to the second floor and opened the door to a bedroom. Inside Hawks was greeted by the sight of two other officers speaking with a child on their bed. The child was holding a plush toy of a Red-headed Woodpecker. The child wouldn’t speak to the officers but the moment Hawks was introduced, their eyes were on him.

“We found the kid being pulled around by one of the adults and when they were let go, they came up here to hide. We’ve been trying to get the kid to talk but they refuse to, maybe you could help?” Hawks wasn’t all that great with people. The kid was in shock and Hawks’ inability to connect emotionally was going to be his downfall here. He reluctantly came up to the child and crouched down in front of them.

“Hey, kiddo. Do you know where you’re at?” The child nodded and stared at Hawks’ red wings.

“If you can tell me about what happened I can take you for flight.” Hawks teased.

You semi-recognized the man in front of you. He was a hero that the other kids talked so much about. You didn’t own a television so you couldn’t see his work but you would see the red wings when he would fly above your home. You knew nothing of the hero world and you had no interest in it either, you didn’t have a quirk so what was the point of dreaming big? Hawks picked you up and had you rest your head on his shoulder as he took you outside. He covered you both with one of his wings as he was left to get drenched in the pouring rain. He then placed you inside of a patrol car with him and the officer in the front seat as they drove off. The drive wasn’t all unpleasant but it could be better. At some point Hawks handed you, more like his feathers did, a blanket to cover yourself with. You all reached the police station around 2 in the morning and you were picked up again, taken to the interrogation room. The officer dismissed himself stating that he would be back with some children’s toys for you. Hawks on the other hand stood across from you leaning against a wall watching you. You didn’t do anything, you mostly just sat on the mattress they placed for you and played with your wet woodpecker plush.

“Do you have a name kid? It would be better if I could call you by something instead of kid.” Hawks tried using his usual PR charisma to gain your trust but he knew that it would work. You weren’t like the average child nor had he ever been himself.

“....” You didn’t answer him but you did look at him. Your eyes were growing heavy, something that you had grown used to since you were even younger. You instead rubbed your eyes and made yourself a small ball on the mattress, this was the only way you could comfortably sleep.

“Come on kid, you can’t go to sleep just yet.” Hawks walked over to you and tried shaking you awake but you wouldn’t answer. You must be tired if not even his loud wings flapping couldn’t wake you up.

The officers consulted with Hawks and Child Protective Services agent on what they should do with you, the consensus was that you should be taken by someone who could provide a safe environment with minimal stress before they could find a permanent home for you. You had suffered from abuse if the scene they found earlier that night was anything to go by. You had bruises blooming on your skin and even an old wound that needed to be stitched properly as well as rebandaged. The CPS agent suggested looking at a relative while the police suggested the child just be sent to a center. Hawks watched as everyone tried to figure out what to do with you and it was honestly making him nauseous. They were all so willing to throw you to whatever place was easiest to place you after having a conversation on how putting you with other children and people would be detrimental to your health.

“I’ll take them.” The conversation stopped as they all stared at Hawks and his raised hand.

“I’ll have the kid stay with me. I have enough space at my apartment and CPS can come in to check if it’s up to code for a child.” With that Hawks walked back to the interrogation room and waited for detective Tsukauchi to end his interrogation. Once done, Tsukauchi walked out while holding your hand and handed you to Hawks.

“Take care of them, Hawks. I know that you can but please make sure that if you ever need any assistance you come us so we can figure out how to help both of you.” Tsukauchi bowed to Hawks and walked towards his office.

“You ready to go kid?” You don’t answer again just follow him out of the police station as he says goodbye to everyone.

“Well, why wings are all wet and it doesn’t look like it’ll give till tomorrow...maybe. So, let’s take a taxi, ok?”  Hawks doesn’t wait for your input since he knows you won’t answer him. He calls a cab and places you on his lap with the seatbelt across the both of you.

“You ok?” You nodded your head and made yourself comfortable against the bird man’s chest. This would be the first time you’ve ever been in a car and the one time you’ve received adults’ attention that was nonviolent.

The ride to his apartment was long but peaceful. The driver turned the radio on and chose some random station to leave as background noise. You twitched as you slept while Hawks used his feather to sense the space around you for any possible threats. For a hero that boasted about his strength and intelligence, he was very paranoid. He spent his entire life being taught that the more aware and causes you were, the longer you’d have to live and the sooner the enemy will cease to. Once at his apartment’s street he pays the driver and carries you inside. The walk up the stairs was his favorite bit of the day, it was an opportunity to relax and reflect for him.

“Home sweet home. Welcome to your uh..new house, kid.” He whispered to your sleeping form. He closed his front door using his feathers, he didn’t want to wake you up. He found his bedroom and cleared the path to his bed in case you wake up for whatever reason.

“Alright, here we go kid. You can sleep here and I’ll figure out what I need for you, ok? Ok, great. Alright.” He’s grateful that the officers gave you a change of clothes because he honestly didn’t know where he could find a children’s clothes store at this time.

“Are you going to leave me like my parents?” Hawks turned around and found you clinging onto the blanket he had.

“No, why? Did your parent not take care of you?” You nodded and directed yourself to him.

“They’d beat me. But you’re a hero. Are you going to give me back?” Hearing a child your age talk about the neglect you’ve endured reminded him of his childhood. The screaming, the stench of beer, the smell of blood. It isn’t like his life is any different now, the only difference being that he was the one having to do all of those things. Coming home with dried blood under his gloved hands, the stench of his sweat mixed with that of the singular bottle of alcohol he drank the same night he came back. Nothing has changed for him.

“Yeah, I’m a hero.” Hawks walked over to the bed and sat on the edge while offering you his hand. “So with that being said, I have a duty to fulfill and it’s one that I don’t intend on going back on.” He gave you the honest smile he could give. This wasn’t PR and it wasn’t him pretending for an audience. You were a child just like him, someone young who was lost and needed comfort. He knew that his responsibilities as an adult and as a hero were sworn and built by the Hero commission. Protect the innocent and judge the guilty. He’s young but not dumb, he knows that this will be a challenge but he’s ready.

“I’ll give up everything in this world to make sure you’re safe with me.” Hawks hand now held your own, the contrast of them was amusing to him. You were the child he will take care of for the next however long you wanted to stay with him. He’ll make sure that you at least got the chance to recover. That you get the choice to be who you want to be unlike himself didn’t get.

“Get some rest, ok?” He rubbed your head and brought the blankets over you.

Hawks showered and dressed in a large shirt with just his underwear underneath. He walked into his living room and made himself comfortable on the couch in front of the television. He felt young again, like back then when his parents screamed at him. Watching the scene today brought back a lot of those repressed memories he preferred to forget about but it also reminded him of the reason why he took his commission training seriously. He wanted to protect people, he wanted children to feel like they belonged in this unfair world. He didn’t see himself being able to teach you anything, he didn’t even know what your quirk was. The file had been left blank so they couldn’t trace your parent’s quirks either. It didn’t matter, quirk or not you could be powerful. He hoped that he could be a great parent, guardian if you didn’t feel like the parent title didn’t suit him. Either way, he made himself comfortable on the couch and turned on the television.

The night brought a serenity that you both needed, you were tucked in his bed sleeping for the first time in a warm environment as you held on to your woodpecker plush. Hawks was coming in and out of consciousness as he watched whatever was playing. He dreamt of the things you could possibly do once you were in a better place. Would you want to be hero? Would you like to be a civilian? The future was bright and yet to be dictated for you, why rush.

#hawks x gn!reader #parent hawks #dad hawks #child reader #child gn! reader #keigo x gn! reader #hawks x reader #hawks #mha #bnha #keigo x reader #keigo x you #keigo x y/n #hawks x y/n #hawks x gn reader #keigo takami

[mypoisonedvine]

Second Chance | dark!Scott Lang x reader

summary: every perfect heist has five stages: identify the score, find your ‘in,’ enter unnoticed, get the score, and leave before anyone knows you were there. scott is good at heists, but not so good at relationships, family, or co-parenting with his ex. but he’s going to do it right this time, by starting a new family with you. he’s going to make sure you stay, by never letting you leave at all.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: noncon, stalking/yandere, breeding kink, overstimulation, kidnapping, innocence/corruption kink?, age gap, pregnancy, lil mention of lactation kink

note: this is set sometime around the plot of ant-man so cassie is still little, no snap/blip, none of that stuff!

Stage 1: Identify the score

Scott loved his daughter, but he hated having to share her with his ex-wife and her new husband.  

The stepdad wasn't a bad guy… annoying, but not dangerous or anything, so Scott figured he should count his blessings.  And Cassie was always a blessing.

But still, this was not the life he has envisioned for himself.  He had always wanted to have a family, and in his mind that had meant actually being with them.  Christmas around the fireplace, ice cream in the park, a dog named Rover— the whole shebang.  Instead he had postcards from vacations he wasn’t invited to, visits supervised by social workers, and far too many missed recitals and games and plays.  He couldn’t make up for time lost, he couldn’t undo everything that had ruined his shot at the picture-perfect family… but he could try again.

That’s where you came in.

Hank had introduced Scott to his new assistant one morning with almost no warning, and he’d been so flustered he almost forgot to shake your hand and greet you.  You had on this little blouse with ruffles that was just too precious, and sparkly gold earrings outshined only by your eyes.  He could imagine you by his side so easily, with gold on your finger to match, playing the part of his beautiful, obedient wife.

You were the perfect mark.  Young: therefore innocent, too trusting, and hopefully plenty fertile.  The fact that you were sweet and smart and adorable was just a bonus.  

It seemed like you had taken a liking to him too, although there was more of a mentor/mentee dynamic than he had originally intended; as if you looked up to him, as opposed to acknowledging the fact that he was single and attractive like you were supposed to.  Thankfully, he had a plan and he knew it was just a matter of time before he was going to get his second chance with you.

Stage 2: Find your ‘in.’

“Is this your card?” he asked, smiling when you nodded excitedly.

"Hey, you're pretty good!" you giggled as he slipped the playing card back into the deck.  "How long have you been doing magic?"

"Uh, not long," he admitted, "I just learned this stuff to impress my daughter."

Your face shifted and he knew he had you.  "Oh my god, that's so sweet!" you beamed.  You were looking at him like you thought he was the most adorable guy in the world, and he tried not to smile too hard because he finally had his in.  "You sound like an incredible dad."

"Well, I try…” he sighed, pulling for your sympathy, “it's tough only having her on weekends and stuff."

“Oh, I can’t even imagine,” you nodded with understanding.  You won’t have to, Scott replied internally.

“Eh, I survive,” he shrugged.  “When you love somebody that much… you take what you can get.”

He glanced away before looking back at you, admiring the puppy-dog eyes you were giving him.  

“You’ll understand someday— assuming you, you know, want kids and all that,” he stammered, testing the waters but breathing a sigh of relief when you grinned.

“Oh, definitely.  I mean, not right now, but definitely someday,” you agreed.  He laughed a little, amused by the way you foolishly believed you would get to decide you would have kids.  He probably would’ve still gone through with his plan even if you’d said you didn’t want any, but it was easier this way and he wanted to make sure his new family had a loving mother to care for them.

And loving was the only way to describe the expression on your face in that moment, presumably as you imagined your picturesque future.  He could only dream that he was somewhere in your fantasy, but it didn’t really matter since he was about to insert himself into your reality regardless.

You waved goodbye when he left the lab that night, not knowing that he was just going to wait in his car for you to leave so he could follow you home.  

Stage 3: Enter unnoticed.

Even though the stake out, like any, should’ve been horrifically boring, Scott found himself excited and oddly… peppy.  It must have been the knowledge that tonight he was going to start the rest of his life, with somebody who wouldn’t— or rather, couldn’t— leave and take his child away.  

At half-past one, when he was confident you were already completely asleep, he made his move.  Breaking into your apartment was disturbingly simple, making him even more glad that he was getting you out of this place: a woman living alone should really have better security.  The next issue was making sure you wouldn’t wake up when he took you.  Thankfully, he had science on his side in the form of a gas he’d stolen from Hank’s lab; it wasn’t dangerous, just something to keep you asleep through being taken to your new home.  All he had to do was pull the pin and roll the canister under your bedroom door, then give it time to clear so he could whisk you away.

There was still a little puff of smoke when he opened your bedroom door, but it didn't affect him— what did have an effect was the sight of you out cold on your bed.  You looked peaceful, innocent… like his perfect little wife, ready for the taking.

He let himself ogle only for a moment at your body exposed by the thin pajamas, running his fingers over your sleeping silhouette.  

You stirred slightly under his touch making him grin.  So sensitive already…

The weight of you in his arms was every he'd dreamed it would be and more.  So much waiting for his new lease on life, for his chance to do things right, and now all that he had to do was carry you home.

Stage 4: Get the score.

He waited for you to wake up, watching from the shadows as you slowly came to and tugged at your restraints.  To be clear, he didn’t enjoy your distress, but he knew it was necessary.  Plus, maybe he could comfort you and that idea excited him more than anything.

“Somebody help me!” you yelped, struggling uselessly against the ropes that secured each of your limbs to the bedposts.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” Scott finally interjected as he stepped out into the light, your head whipping around to look at him.  You looked relieved, for a moment.

“Scott,” you mumbled, “what are you doing here?  What… what happened?”

“Nothing happened, you’re going to be just fine,” he explained calmly, taking a seat beside you on the bed.  Your brow furrowed and your eyes darted around.

“Where am I?’

“You’re finally home.”

It was clear that you didn't understand quite yet, though the way your eyes darted around and your brow furrowed made it obvious you were starting to get the gist.  "Scott, I… I don't…"

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, reaching up to cradle your face in his hand.  It broke his heart slightly when you tried to turn your head away from his touch, but he was sympathetic to your reticence; it would be trained out of you soon, anyways.  “Just relax, okay?  Everything’s gonna be fine— not just fine: great.”

You shivered slightly and he was about to ask if you were cold, if he could get you a blanket or turn up the heating, but you spoke first.  “What are you gonna do to me?” you asked, hesitant yet stern.

“Well, that depends on how well you behave,” he explained calmly.  

“Will you let me go?”  Your voice was softer, weaker, and it made his chest tighten; he loved you so much he didn’t know what to do with himself sometimes.

You let out a little sob when he shook his head in reply.  “No, baby, I can’t.  You don’t understand… you don’t know what it’s like, having a family and being away from them all the time.  It’s torture; that’s why you’re here.  This time you're not gonna leave me… never gonna let you out of my sights, sweetheart: you or the baby."  

Your whole body tensed up as your eyes went wide, making him chuckle a little.  

"Don't be so scared, you're gonna love it.  I just know you're going to be an amazing mom…"

You tried to kick him away as he ran his hand up your leg, and even though it didn't work at all it still hurt his feelings.  "Baby," he frowned, tutting disapprovingly, "don't be rude… just relax and it'll feel good."

His hand travelled higher, reaching up between your thighs where his finger gently brushed over your swollen bud through your pajama shorts.  He smirked at the way it was clearly already aroused.  

"See?  You're gonna like it, you already want it," he purred.  

His purr became a growl when he slipped two fingers into your panties and found your folds already slick and warm.  He had meant to tease you a bit more but now he couldn’t stop himself from pushing his fingers into you and groaning at the feeling of your walls wrapped tightly around them.  It was obvious that you were enjoying it just by the way your channel tightened and fluttered encouragingly, even if your face was twisted in conflict.

“It’s okay if it feels good,” he reminded you, rubbing his thumb over your clit and grinning when your back arched.  “It’s okay to come.”

You shook your head, mumbling “no,” but it seemed more like you were talking to yourself than to him.  It was sort of inspiring how much you were trying to hold yourself back even when he could feel your pleasure building with every curl of his fingers.  The way you bit down on your lip to hide your moans was admirable but ultimately fruitless, your body jolting and shaking under him.

“Come on, baby, I know you’re so close, just come for me,” he cooed, knowing that you’d be so much more pliant once your first orgasm was out of the way.  

He could see how badly you wanted, and needed, to obey him, but you were still foolishly resisting and trying to squirm away.  In a moment of frustration, he used his free hand to push down on you just below your belly button: it served both to pin you to the bed and to push your spongy g-spot right into the tips of his fingers, making you choke and gurgle as your eyes shot open.

“There it is,” he grinned, “see how good I can make you feel?  Go ahead, sweetheart, make a mess on my fingers…”

It wasn’t much longer until a new wave of wetness seeped from your opening, down around his hand and onto the sheets below, making him laugh a little purely out of pride.

“Fuck, just like that— keep going,” he demanded with a little growl, loving the way you writhed and gasped all for him.  To see you like this was reward enough, but to know that nobody else would ever see you like this again, that you’d be his forever?  It was nearly overwhelming.

He didn’t stop until your whines were too pained to bear— there was a clear difference between overstimulated and genuinely suffering, and his interest laid solidly in the first.  Still, he loved the way you sighed with relief when he slowed down and pulled his fingers from you; already your body was limp and heavy, your eyes blinking slowly.

“Are you tired already?  Baby, we’re just getting started,” he chuckled, standing up to strip quickly.  He wasn’t sure if your shock was from seeing his body or knowing what he was going to do to you next, but it was likely some mixture of the two— definitely plenty of the first with the way your eyes scanned him while he took off his jeans.  He was pretty proud of himself for staying in shape, and every long night at the gym was justified when he saw you swallow nervously at the sight of him.  You had trouble hiding your arousal when your body was tied up and completely exposed to him, aside from the little pajama set that did nothing to hide your hardening nipples.

When he was naked, finally, he climbed onto the bed and slotted himself between your legs, ignoring the way you struggled beneath him to tear off your top.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered under his breath as your chest was finally freed, your tits jiggling a little whenever you tried to squirm away.  “So fucking perfect…”

He grabbed one and held it steady so he could lean down and capture the nipple between his lips, humming when you whined and bucked beneath him.

“These are gonna get bigger when I knock you up, you know,” he smiled happily, looking up at where you were staring back with wide, wild eyes.  “Gonna be full of milk for our little one.”

He moved to the other nipple slowly, circling it with his tongue before finally latching on and sucking it just hard enough to make you yelp slightly.

“Will you let me have a taste too, baby?” he teased, laughing at your expression that tried (and failed) to mask arousal with disgust.

Though he would have to wait to taste your milk, there was another part of you he could taste now— or as soon as he finished kissing his way down your stomach, and quickly ripping and disposing of your little shorts.  

The second he got you naked for him, the smell of your need hit the air and it drove him fucking wild.  Once again, his plans to tease you— kiss your thighs, leave little bite marks on your hips, give the gentlest licks to your swollen button— were lost to his desire, leaving him with no choice but to dive right in and devour you.

It was worth it to see you fall apart for him so quickly, your back arching dramatically as you grabbed the ropes that tied your hands just to have something to hold onto.  He could tell nobody had ever eaten your cunt this good before, because if they had you wouldn’t have gasped so loudly when he pushed his tongue into you.  The lewd slurping sounds that echoed around the basement reminded you both that every sound was trapped, just like you— it scared you more but it turned him on, his cock bobbing up against his abs in a silent beg for stimulation.

But it wasn’t quite time to fuck you.  Close, but not yet.  He needed to taste you at the peak of your pleasure first.

Two fingers pushed slowly into your pulsing channel definitely helped to speed things along: he could hear you getting louder, and feel you getting tighter.  He could even feel your clit throbbing against his tongue, and it only made him want to push you further to the edge.

"I know you're so close honey, just let go," he purred between laps at your swollen bud.  

Clearly you were still worn out from the last orgasm but it made it even easier to make you come this time, even when you were uselessly fighting it.  Your broken little moans made his heart twist, and his cock flex slightly although he was doing his best to ignore it.

You started to relax and go limp, so he pulled back and took a moment to appreciate how lovely you looked, exhausted and blissed-out just from his touch.

"Doing so good for me, sweetheart," he praised huskily.  "I think we've both waited long enough… I'm gonna put my cock in you now."

Your mumbles and heavy breaths almost sounded like you were considering begging him not to again, but apparently you were either too tired or too smart to keep that game up.  He grinned as he scooted forward a bit so he could rub his cock between your swollen, slick lips; the way his thick shaft spread your folds was intoxicating, and he couldn't wait to see how it looked when he pushed into your tight cunt.

He literally couldn't wait: he was already guiding the head to your opening and sliding home.

You whimpered weakly and his head fell back with a groan.  "God, baby, so fucking tight…"

Underneath where his hands rested on your legs, he could feel you struggling again.

"Shh, just take it honey, it's gonna be so good," he assured from between his teeth, jaw tight and heart racing.  As much as slowing down and giving you some time to adjust would be the gentlemanly thing to do, he couldn't find the patience now that he was inside you and it felt so perfect.

When he was finally all the way within you and his hips were flush against yours, you made a little noise like a moan and a sob while he leaned down to cage your body in with his, resting his arms beside your head.  

"See how perfect we are together?  Like we're made for each other," he cooed, pouting a little when a tear fell from your eye.  "Don't cry, baby," he soothed as he wiped it away with his thumb, "everything's finally right.  I'm gonna move now, okay?"

But he didn't wait for your permission before he pulled back and pushed in again, stroking your walls with patience and precision.

Each thrust pushed the head of his cock right into that spongy spot inside you, making you gasp and tug on your restraints a bit— and you looked so beautiful in the throes of pleasure like this, spread out beneath him and your body at his disposal.  But, disposal was the last of his plans for you: he wanted to savor you, make you feel as good as you made him feel (if that was even possible).

So, he did his best to target your most sensitive spots, grinning at your body's obvious reaction.  Occasionally he would rub your clit with his thumb or reach up to play with your tits, but overall he stuck to just appreciating the perfect friction of your channel on the ridges and veins of his cock.

It didn't take much more of that for you to arch your back again, the weak moans that spilled from your lips just as much a sign of your orgasm as the way your inner muscles flexed around him.

"Just like that," he praised under his breath, "fuck, come for me baby…"

Moving faster and with more ferocity, he was able to push you into another one quickly as he grinned down at you. 

"There you go, angel, just keep coming for me, I know you can give me one more—"

"N-no," you stammered, "can't…"

"Yes you can, honey, be my good little girl and come one more time for me," he encouraged, thrusting harder and faster as you whimpered and writhed.  The fluttering of your walls brought his own orgasm close but he staved it off as he fought to get one last glimpse of you at the height of your pleasure.  "There you go," he grinned when he felt your body tense up only to relax all at once, a beautiful broken whine echoing around the room.

The sensation of his balls tightening was always a sign that he was close, but it was much stronger now than normal and he knew he was going to come so hard.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he groaned.  "Gonna fill you up so good that you have to get pregnant."

"Scott, please," you whimpered, "please just pull out."

"I can't, honey, I couldn't if I wanted to— you just feel too good," he explained, thrusting faster as he began to lose his rhythm.  "Fuck, just like that— oh god, baby, I'm coming, fuck!"

He groaned as finally he felt each pump of come paint the deepest parts of you, not stopping until he spilled every drop.

You tried to squirm but he held your hips tight, the little pulses of your walls milking his cock for all it was worth.  "Baby," he sighed as he started to catch his breath, "fuck, you're amazing."

Your sweet little body shivered beneath him, making him frown sympathetically and rub your arms.  

"Aw, honey, are you cold?" he soothed, hugging you tight and giving you a peck on the tip of your nose.  

"Why…" you mumbled, so quiet that he almost didn't hear it, as your eyes fluttered shut.

"It's okay, honey, I'm right here," he promised, "I know you're tired, you can go to sleep now."

Stage 5: Leave before anyone knows you were there.

This one didn’t exactly apply in this case, since nobody was leaving anywhere anytime soon; he was going to stay with you as long as he could, only leaving when work absolutely demanded it.  In fact, his first order of business was to go back to the lab and bring your letter of resignation with him.  With some bargaining he got you to sign it, and once it was done he could barely keep it together at work all day— he just couldn’t wait to get home and be with you again, knowing that the last of the loose ends were tied and nobody was going to come looking for you.

You adjusted to domestic life rather well, especially once you started showing and your maternal instincts started to overpower the independence you used to value.  

"Good morning, angel," he purred against your ear as you stirred in his arms, your movements rustling the sheets of your shared king bed.  He hummed as he ran his hands over your body, resting on your round, swollen belly where he suddenly felt his child kicking underneath.  "Did you feel that?" he gasped.

"Mm-hmm," you mumbled sleepily, cuddling up closer to him and resting your hands on top of his.  "That's our baby."

He kissed your cheek and smiled, trying to comprehend how he ever got so lucky.  After all, second chances are hard to come by.

#scott lang x reader #dark!scott lang x reader #dark!scott lang smut #dark!scott lang x you

[fandom-blackhole]

*claps happily* Could I please get a 50 & a 81 with Din? Oh this is so fuuunnn~ Thank you so much!

Ngl anon I had to play with this mash-up for a bit, but I think I have a winner 😉

Sorry it took so long, but I wrote some of this on my way home from uni for the weekend and finished it today. I hope you like it!

Words: ?? (I'll check later if I remember)

Pairing: Manda'lor!Din Djarin x F!Reader

50. Arranged Marriage  

81. The Missus and the Ex 

Send me Aus/Tropes??

Din had given up on marriage a long time ago. It was a dream of his youth, one he'd envisioned over and over to the point he could almost see the faces of his children running around in his dreams. But with age and as life went on that wish faded and with every new situation he just, well gave up that dream.

Then Grogu happened, and he may not have had a partner but he had his kid and he loved him. His life had felt like it had been dragging, nothing really new, just getting bounty after bounty and taking the money back to the tribe, but Grogu changed that. Suddenly he had a purpose, to protect the small child in his care, and he did with everything he had in him. He fought tooth and nail to keep the kid away from the stormtroopers, away from Gideon and had succeeded until he hadn't, but he didn't give up. He did more, gathered his resources and fought everything and everyone in his way to get Grogu, to get his son back, and then he had him again. But he also had the darksaber and the events following all bit blurred together. Before he knew it he his son had been taken by the jedi to train him, he'd broken his creed only to be crowned manda'lor of his people, and swept away to Mandalore with a fuming Bo Katan.

Months later he still hadn't wrapped his head around his new life nor the responsibilities he now held, but he did what he could and he did what he knew to be right. He ruled fairly and for the people, making decisions that he knew his advisors may not like but he knew would benefit his people.

Then his advisors were blindsided him with the news that a marriage had been arranged for him and the daughter of an influential mandalorian tribe who was well liked by the general public and had neutral if not slightly positive opinion of the new republic. Din was floored. An arranged marriage? He didn't really know how to react, but it made sense, marrying this woman would gain some of the favor of the higher more influential clans and tribes that had yet to sway in his favor. At the same time his heart twinged and mourned the marriage and family had dreamed and wished for so long ago, now fading to never be as he solemnly agreed to the marriage.

The marriage was a very public affair, much to Din's chagrin. But he was also relieved when he learned that he would have the week leading up to the wedding to get to know his soon to be wife. The wedding had been taken over by his advisors at this point after they soon realized Din could care less about flower arrangements and what specifically color of red or black he would be wearing, so that meant he could take his time and really get a feel for how he felt about the woman he was marrying. And he had to say, he did like you. You were smart, sharp witted and pleasant to be around. You had no qualms with your beliefs, and even what the two of you disagreed on you both stayed cordial and just agreeded to disagree. You were kind, and cared for the mandalorian people and rebuilding Mandalore much the same way Din did,, and had even given him praise on some of his accomplishments and things he had implemented to help the people. So when the week was over, and as Din laid in bed the night before the wedding, Din could tell, that he liked you, and given time, he maybe able to even love you.

Much like he had assumed, the day of the wedding was all but chaos. He was woken up at an ungodly hour to start getting ready, and make a few last minute decisions on things he really did not care about, and the entire time, all he could think was that he hoped your morning was much more calm and less hectic than his own. The wedding itself passed quickly it seemed. Din was escorted onto a balcony first, his armor freshly shined, his beskar spear in one hand and the darksaber hanging on his belt, and his newly made red cape sat neatly on his shoulders. His people cheered and waved when they saw him, and cheered louder when he felt someone come to stand beside him. When he looked over, his breath was taken from him when he saw just how beautiful you looked. You looked every part the queen you were about to be, regal and powerful in your golden armor that was distinctly opposite of his own, but paired together your armors felt like they matched like two sides of the same coin. Even your cape was opposite his own, a striking green color that he felt was perfect for you.

You both swapped the mandalorian marriage vows, and Din's head advisor stepped forward declaring you to be the new queen, and as the crowd cheered, both you and him were ushered away back into the walls of the palace. Din didn't even get to say a word to you, before once again he was pulled away and you were escorted back to your rooms, now that the marriage was finalized, the ball was to start and Din once more was taken to "change", even though it was more of just switching to a more intricately embroidered cape with furs lining the inside. Then he was taken to the thrown room where he got the pleasure to sit and and listen to people talk to him all the while he waited....and waited....and waited... and...why were you still not here? It had been over two hours, the lunch was supposed to begin soon and yet he still had not seen you. Something panged in his chest, worry that something was wrong and his gut telling him he needed to check on you.

So, without even waiting or caring about what the person talking to him was saying, he stood and marched from the throne room, immediately heading to where he knew your room was situated. The closer he got, the more his stomach churned, screaming at him that something was wrong, something wasn't right, and when he found your hall and a dead guard with a single throwing knife in his throat, his heart stopped and he starting running. When he got to your door, he heard muffled talking, and he wasted no time bursting in and pointing his spear. What he found had his heart dropping, there you were hair not fully finished being done, but dressed in a beautiful gown that made you look like a goddess sent by the maker himself, but you were being held with a knife to your throat even as you fought and scowled, though relief flashed through your eyes when Din made eye contact with you. You're assailant though, only laughed an all to familiar high pitched cackle that had Din's face warping in disgust.

"Oh look pet, big ole Mandalore is coming to save his bride. You know, he's not all that scary, we used to work together you know, back when he was still just Mando."

Clenching his teeth, Din took a step forward, lowly growling out, "Let her go, Xi'an. Why are you here?"

"Why, how could I miss your wedding?! You know hun, Mando and I used to have a thing, and let me tell you he is great in b-"

"Enough! Why. Are. You. Here," Din interrupted as he stepped forward again, only to have Xi'an step back dragging you with her and digging her knife into your neck causing a drip of blood to fall painting your neck.

"Well, if you must know. You, my dear Mando, have had a hit place on your head, and I thought I'd try and cash in and see you again," she giggled out. Something in Din snapped, and before he knew what he was doing he charged Xi'an managing to surprise her enough to knock her hand away and pull you behind him, before headbutting Xi'an right as she was coming out of her shock, disorienting her enough for Din to slip behind her and lock the handle of his spear along her neck. After he had her pinned, Din's guards came in not long after and arrested her dragging her away as Xi'an threw a fit.

As soon as the two of you were alone, Din approached you and cupped your face, with his hand, his voice low and he asked, "Are you okay, mesh'la?"

You just nodded, so slowly Din reached up and took off his helmet, looking you in the eyes he softly he gently ran hi thumb over the spot on your throat where Xi'an had nicked you, "Are you sure?"

Again you nodded, bumping your forehead to his before grinning widely and looking him in the eyes. "So you think I'm beautiful?"

Everything Tags: @mysticalgalaxysalad @phoenixhalliwell @moodsare @perpetual-fangirl900 @night-snows00 @dumbass-simp-for-fredweasley @stargazingthenightaway @meabravo @just-here-for-the-moment @masteracewindu @litakino

Din Tags: @elinedjarin @shellyc9 @spideysimpossiblegirl @sydthekid1518 @phrog-seeds @pintsizemama @blackmarketmummy @badbatch-simp24 @startrekkingaroundasgard @djarin-junk @mindidjarin @hmarsattacks @littlemisspascal @pixierox101 @moodsare

Pedro Boys: @blackmarketmummy @djarin-junk @littlemisspascal

Join the Taglist

#din djarin x reader #din x reader #manda'lor din x reader #au tropes asks #50. Arranged Marriage #81. The Missus and the Ex

[forever-rogue]

Hi! For the prompts could I please request Maxwell Lord + "it's you. it's always been you" from fluff & romance in the second prompt list? 🥰

Just some Maxwell softness. Enjoy!

Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader ; warnings: none

Pedro Character Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What’s wrong, love?” you gently put your hand on the side of Maxwell’s face, drawing his attention back to you and away from whatever seemed to be troubling him. He offered you a small smile before shaking his head, causing a dark lock of hair to fall into his eyes, “what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” he whispered softly as you reached over and brushed the stray lock out of his eyes, “just tired.”

“You’ve had a busy week,” you agreed quietly, “and your class schedule is jam packed right now. You should rest and make sure you’re taking care of yourself too.”

“It’s the last semester,” he reminded you as you nodded; the fact that your college days were soon coming to an end was enough to terrify you and excite you all at once. But soon you would be free from the confines of the institution and onto a whole new adventure, “I wanted to make the most of it.”

“But don’t let it push you over the edge either,” you grabbed his plate and kissed the top of his head, “you’re no good if you’re running yourself ragged and worn down. I love you, Maxwell.”

“I love you too, Hermosa,” he was already reaching for one of his books to carry on studying as you set everything in the sink, “soon we’ll be out of here and into the real world and I will have everything, and I will be able to give you everything you deserve.”

“You will build an empire Maxwell Lorenzano,” you grinned at him as you flounced over back to him, putting your hand under his chin to turn your face up to meet yours, “but I already have everything I want - you. That’s all that matters to me.”

“But you deserve so much more,” he whispered as you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his soft lips, “I will give you everything.”

“As long as you’re there,” you whispered softly “I have everything.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

You woke up with a sharp inhale as you stared at your ceiling, your heart beating wildly inside your chest. It was that same damned dream again - so sweet and happy, but just as horrid in reality. It served as a reminder that things had turned out very differently from the life you had once envisioned. 

It was all supposed to be so easy, so effortless - just you and Maxwell and whatever the world threw at the two of you. But oh - how wrong you had been. How very, very wrong. 

After graduation, it was like Maxwell had turned into a completely different person. Gone was the sweet, gentle, caring man you loved so deeply and wholly, and he was replaced with a man who barely knew - a workaholic only concerned with success, success, success. Money and making a name for himself came before everything else, and you were left to the wayside. 

It was never supposed to be that way. But life rarely worked as you’d envisioned, and while the reality was harsh and biting, it was something you came to terms with. 

You were gone one day, almost as if you were a phantom, making it appear as though you’d never existed. Every piece of you was gone from the apartment you shared, as were you. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to handle the situation, but at the same time, you’d tried to talk to Max about everything so many times, and he’d either ignored you, downplayed your concerns, or was so unpresent in the conversation that it was like talking to drywall. 

When you couldn’t handle it anymore you’d just left. Packed up your bags and left everything behind without so much as a single word - no note, no explanation, nothing. Rash? Yes. Wrong? Maybe. Needed? Yes. 

You’d never wanted things to end like this - to end up so distant and separated from the man you had once loved so desperately. And fuck - you’d still loved him, you knew you always would. But somewhere along the line things had changed and your Maxwell was no longer yours. 

But it didn’t matter - he never once looked for you or tried to come and find you, to ask why, why, why. He never came for you and you never looked back.

Just like that, everything changed. Most importantly, or perhaps worst of all, it was like neither of you had existed to the other. It hurt, but over time it got easier and easier and almost like he never existed.

But of course he had. Of course you'd loved him. Of course you still did. You always would, even if he didn't know it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Alistair?" you asked as he sat at the table, coloring away with a little frown etched onto his, "what's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Daddy was supposed to be here half an hour ago," he was dismissive as he started down at his paper, "he said he'd pick me up since he has time with his new job."

"He's probably just running late bub," you promised him, ruffling his dark hair, "it happens! Do you want to play a game or go outside? Its just the two of us left and we can do whatever we want!"

"Can we play on the jungle gym?" his eyes lit up as you nodded, watching in amusement as he packed up his bag. You'd always liked him, feeling more drawn to him than a lot of the other kids in your after school daycare. You'd never met his father; it had always been a nanny up until now, sent when he was with his mother or father. Looks like things were changing...maybe he wouldn't need daycare much longer. The thought made you sad for a moment...you really like the young boy and enjoyed his company. But that could all be figured out later; or now you were just going to enjoy his company.

"Come on," he called for you, holding out his hand for you. Nodding, you eagerly went over to him, taking his smaller hand in yours and letting him lead you outside. It was beautiful outside, and you took a large breath to take in some of the fresh air.

Alistair eagerly hopped on one of the swings, and it felt so natural for you to go and help him swing. He was such a fun, energetic child and his enthusiasm was infectious.

Even though he was a young boy still, he was wise beyond his years and spoke of anything and everything that crossed his mind. There wasn't a single dull moment behind the two of you, and before you knew it, the sun had started to go down and was painting the sky in brilliant crimsons and oranges.

"Alistair!" a warm voice called out to the boy and his face instantly pulled into a large grin. You slowed the swinging and let him jump off as he ran at the approaching figure. Remaining behind, you let the two of them have their moment. He held his son tightly, pressing kisses to the side of his you heard him say, "hi baby - I'm so sorry I'm late!"

"Its okay, Daddy," he said as the man set down again, but not before taking his father's hand and leading him over to you, "I was worried at first, but we've been playing and having fun!"

"Good, I'm glad," he beamed at this son. As the man came closer, you couldn't help but think that he sounded familiar. But then, as he stopped in front of you with Alistair at his side, your jaw dropped as you were sure your heart stopped. At the same time, the man mirrored your actions before his dark eyes widened, "Hermosa?"

"Maxwell?" this couldn't be happening. No, no, no - out of all the people in the world...surely Maxwell couldn’t really be standing in front of you. Except...this Maxwell was not quite the man you once knew. Gone were the well loved and worn clothes, replaced by much finer garments. Out where the dark locks you use to love to run your fingers through; instead they were golden strands. Missing was the silly little imperfect smile you adored, replaced by only the best money could buy. 

But underneath the shiny exterior, you knew those eyes, along with that singular dimple that appeared when he smiled. He shook his head in amusement, amazed by this stroke of fortune as he held his hand out to you, "hi - wow that feels so wrong to say. Not quite good enough for the moment...but hi."

"Hi," you breathed back as you took his hand and shook it. The simple contact was enough to send shivers up and down your spine; even after all these years, his touch was ever the same, "I..umm...I had no idea you were his father. His last name…"

"Its the same as mine," he said as you gave him a surprised look but didn't question him. Somewhere along the line, Maxwell Lorenzano became Maxwell Lord. You wondered what else had changed...judging by looks alone, apparently many things were different now.

"Ahh," you said softly, the realization that he must have changed his name at some point hitting you. It was a momentary sadness as you realize what it meant; but it was no matter. What mattered was he here in the flesh and had been back in your life and you hadn't even known it, "I...umm...I guess I should let you both go. Don't want to get home too late."

"Of course," he said with a soft smile as he picked up his son again, "thanks for keeping him later - it won't happen again. New job and it ran late."

"Not a problem," you reassured him, "Alistair is a wonderful kid and we had a lot of fun. I guess I'll see you around, Maxwell. And you too, kiddo. See you tomorrow!"

"Good night," they chimed in unison as they started to walk away, stopping for a moment to grab his things before heading off.

You were positive you heard the big sleepily mumble onto his father's shoulder, "do know her?"

You had to turn around and hide your own grin, not wanting to get caught up in your excitement. It meant nothing, you kept trying to tell yourself, none of it meant anything. Sheer, simple continence was all it was.  But still...you had a lot of questions - when did he get married and have a son? What happened to his appearance? Who was he now?

Either way, it was all said and done and you were relative strangers. Your paths had diverged many years ago and yet...somehow life has brought you back tomorrow. Maybe it meant something after all…

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next couple of weeks were spent with many visits from Maxwell, none of which you minded of course. He was often on time to pick Alistair up, but would linger and talk to you. In some ways it was like no time at all had passed, and the conversation was easy and flowing, and despite the golden outer layer, you still saw the boy you'd fallen in love with.

It was easy like this, getting to know him again, and in some ways you felt like no time had passed. You learned about the ups and downs of his own life, more about his marriage and divorce, about his struggle to become everything he had dreamed - all while reassuring him that he was okay, and he would always be okay. But, he was eager to remind you, the best part of his life, the shining beacon, would always be his son. And it was easy to see how much he adored the boy. 

In turn, you’d told him all about your own life that you had created. That it was modest and lacked what most people would consider grandeur, but you still loved it. He listened to you, hanging onto every word as he felt like that same dopey college kid that had fallen head over heels for you. Gods, he had missed you, even when he hadn’t realized it. If only things would have been slightly different and...but it was no matter. You were here now and so was he, and really that was the only thing that mattered to the two of you. 

“Hermosa?” he had been halfway through walking out the door with Alistair hanging onto his hand. You turned and raised an eyebrow at him, indicating for him to go on, “would you...do you want to go to dinner sometime?”

“Yes,” you answered softly, unable to fight the giant grin on your face, “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“Great,” he seemed relieved as the nervous look left his face, quickly replaced by one of joy, “it’s a date...I’ll call you later.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?” you asked as you found Maxwell watching you closely, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth as he reached over and put his hand on your face. You leaned into his touch as your eyes fluttered closed, “Maxwell…”

“Hermosa,” his voice was gentle and still thick with sleep as he leaned over and nuzzled his nose against yours, “go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

“That’s what I was doing,” you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close to his chest as your tangled your legs with his, “but I’ve got someone staring at me and it’s kind of hard to stay asleep under such a watchful gaze.”

“Can one not admire such great beauty?” he asked quietly before pressing a kiss to your forehead and closing his own eyes once again, “everything I love is right here in my arms...and down the hall. Forgive me for being happy.”

“I’m happy too, Maxwell,” you promised, feeling like your heart might burst with joy, “I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love you.”

“I love you,” he agreed, “it’s always been you. Even if it took some time to realize that. Now, rest and get some sleep. You were up last night…”

“I wonder why!” you laughed as he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, “no complaints though - never.”

“Good,” he grinned against your lips, “now sleep, Hermosa. The world can wait.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[opalescient]

haikyuu fic recs — the most beautiful, lovely, breathtaking masterlist (vol. I)

so i’ve been binging fics to cure my sadness, and i thought that these select masterpieces were too magnificent to not be plastered on every billboard ever. some tore my soul into shreds, while others melted said shreds back whole, but all of them made me feel some form of sheer, unadulterated love, so. please enjoy! 🥰⛅️✨

note: all of these fics are exquisite and you should read all of them, but if you’re short of time, those with ☆ are my all-time favourites!

daisuga

butterfly in the subway by bigspoonnoya ☆ | T

Sugawara Koushi has no idea he's already in love with the man he's supposed to hate.

i lovelovelove how all the concepts tied in together like a perfectly wrapped gift

also very wholesome, made me feel so inexplicably warm. like, love can exist everywhere!!! despite everything!!! that’s just so inspiring

i revisited this many times, i think it was (one of) my first haikyuu fics and honestly. it set the bar so high and i have no regrets

you’d fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder ☆ | G

“Oh. You're. Not Asahi.”

Calmed down enough that he can speak again, Daichi takes a deep breath, his smile settling on his face easily and wide.

“Not as far as I know, no.”

-

Suga accidentally calls a stranger instead of his best friend, tells him all about his burned batch of cookies before realising, and that particular mistake might turn out the best one he ever made.

major, major fluff

the buildup!!!

god this made my yearning for love so much worse

the perfect stranger by downmoon | T

There’s a man standing outside Suga's door.

Scratch that. Start over.

There’s a man he doesn’t know standing outside his door, holding his sleeping nephew in one arm, with another kid clinging tightly to his free hand.

so domestic please read the entire series from start to finish it has my whole heart

shoyou and tobio as their actual kids 🥺

these two parents are so in love it makes me wanna cry

asanoya

silica sand by lilien passe ☆ | G

Overworked, over-stressed programmer Azumane Asahi works on the top floor of a Shinjuku skyscraper. Nervous around his coworkers and terrified of the long drop on the other side of the window, Asahi falls into a miserable routine, only to have it broken one day by a simple message on the outside of the glass.

PLEASE. so well-written it makes my heart glow and ache simultaneously

made me ascend into asanoya heaven

such a brilliantly unique concept i love it A+

qué syrah syrah by loudlucy | M

Asahi wants to be a Master Sommelier. It's the highest honor in wine service, and the certification would allow him to live the life he's always envisioned for himself. Too bad the certification test is notorious for being the world's most difficult.

Most people fail their first time taking the exam, and Asahi is no exception, but he has more difficulty than most dusting himself off and getting back on his feet. Enter Nishinoya, a young man who shares his same dream, and who believes in their goals so fiercely it forces Asahi to embark on a delicious and sensuous journey of viticulture and validation.

AKA The Wine Tasting AU that literally no one even knew to ask for.

NOTE: You Do Not Need to Know About Wine to Understand This Fic!

another super unique concept!!! (´∀｀=)

my god their chemistry is amazing

the writing made me feel things ngl

stop my bones from wondering by cerasi ☆ | T

After graduation, Asahi hides from the world and needs help from a few sources to find his way back.

i want to write sonnets and sing ballads for this fic, it’s that beautiful

as always, Top Notch Writing *chef’s kiss*

no but i seriously... can i kiss the author? asking for a friend 😳👉🏼👈🏼

iwaoi

star-crossed by starlitcities | T

“I never thought I’d see the day that I’d envy a human,” Oikawa admits, showering himself in tiny suns, because he can actually feels those, like a fusillade of warm kisses on luminous skin that leave marks. To humans, they’d be freckles. Skin stars, Oikawa calls them. He didn’t make that up, a human did.

“Who created the rule that we can’t touch, I wonder,” Iwaizumi ponders, floating heedlessly through space.

“Maybe it’s because we can fly. Humans dream of flying, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

gsjsgsjshsjshsjsj star!iwaoi

they’re LITERALLY STARS

beautifulbeautifulbeautiful i love how the author conveyed the beauty of touch and humanity 🥺🥺

please bless yourself further with the sequel sun-kissed

conquering the great king by suggestivescribe ☆| E

Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, "Last time was supposed to be a one time thing," he said, voice low, lacking some conviction.

Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

yes.

in fact, this entire series (breaking the rules) features daisuga, kuroken, asanoya and it’s SO GOOD. every single one.

but anyway, character development!!!!! plot!!!!!!!!! writing!!!!!!!! i’m here for it all

tsukkiyama

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon ☆ | M

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he’s probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he’s at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

SO BEAUTIFUL

i am also a sucker for anything with stars, moons and all the love in between

no words to describe this work of art please just go read it and be blessed

under the lilac tree by raewrites | G

there’s a lilac tree in Kei’s backyard.

gorgeous in its simplicity

softtsukkisofttsukkisofttsukki

not as grandiose as the rest but the love written into every word, action and character is absolutely show-stopping

kagehina

saffron and cayenne pepper by dontsaycrazy ☆ | T

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

-

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

the essence of their characters were captured so well and yet it’s like they’re completely new characters too? author, whoever you are, you totally owned this

this made me ship kagehina so hard

fluff! cuteness! lots and lots of cooing!

kuroken

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony ☆ | T

soulmate

/ˈsəʊlmeɪt/ • noun

A person who was made from the same star as you.

-

// Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives.

ahhh here it is. beautiful, heartbreaking, soul-emptying agony. you want angst? choke on this, and your tears later on.

no but seriously please read this if you haven’t you won’t regret it at all i promise

written from kenma’s perspective so you experience every depth and multitude of emotion he does and it’s so raw and- brb imma go cry for a sec

knot in my heart by hearthope | T

There’s a picture. Kenma blinks, looking at the little calico cat, being held up next to the face of a guy with stupidly messy hair and a crooked grin.

Cute.

The— the cat. The cat is cute.

Just the cat.

-

Kuroo starts spending a lot of time at the flower shop Kenma works at. Kenma definitely isn't into him.

okay so i like it when authors unravel a normally stoic character’s full scope of emotion and give them depth, sue me.

anyway, back on the fluff train!

i absolutely f*ck with flower symbolisms, cats and bitchy best friends who have dirt on each other. the layers of romance, friendship and everything in between is so prettily developed 10/10

bokuaka

the jacket you never returned by daisuga ☆☆ | G

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.

He will never remember. Not now, not ever.

What they were will now forever be forgotten.

-

"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."

YOU USED TO CALL ME KEIJI, KOUTAROU!!!!!!!!!!

i beg you to listen to Spiegel im Spiegel when it’s first mentioned in the story please

i read this and screamed through my tears for a solid 1.5 hours. i rarely cry.

no f*ckin regrets though i read this thrice already and it hurts so good every time

rules by conesofdunshire ☆☆ | E

In which Akaashi Keiji is an overworked accountant who stumbles upon Bokuto one night playing the piano in the lobby of his work. Bokuto is different, that much is obvious. But with such supreme musical talent and a smile so dazzling it rivals the sun, there's just something about him that brings Akaashi back every night.

this fic. this fic has my whole, broken, sobbing heart and laughing soul

gorgeous. breathtaking. magnificent.

bokuto is so WARM and akaashi is so STRONG and they both find the solace they need in each other and it’s all i want for me 😭😭😭

in another life by littleluxray | T

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

this is a famous fic that i doubt any seasoned haikyuu reader wouldn’t know, and RIGHTLY SO BECAUSE, the PAIN. the pain. the pain.

i could feel my lungs shrivel up and my chest cave in on itself. fatigue and rest are things i struggle with too so this whole story resonated with me from start to finish, and it broke me. in like, the best, most revitalising way

i would read this again but it still haunts me at night. i need to heal from the first time before i have the guts to try one more time HAHAHA 😆💔😭

tea-stained polaroids by dalyeau | G

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

mmmmmmm pretty photographer + personalised coffee cups + cute baristas = diabetic fluff fic

i smiled so much throughout this you have no idea. cheeks achey but so good

i may have squealed a little at the ending

kurotsukki

moonfall by batman | T

There is no unlearning Tetsurou, after all. There is only leaving him.

-

(Five things of Tetsurou's that ended up in Kei's home, and one that never left.)

the writing!!!!!! is pure beauty!!!! sheer grace!!!!!!! the construction of the AU and the romanticism and hsjsgsjshsj

didn’t cry but. heart ache and bittersweet smiles are another level of misery that is just as fulfilling

yea just pleasepleasepleaseplease go read it thank you and have a good day

hidden gem by realmSpinner | E

Things get complicated when everything you thought you knew about a guy changes, and they get even more complicated when you actually start liking those changes.

That guy working with you AND becoming your neighbor? That's just a cherry on top of the cake of confusion.

this AU was refreshingly different, and amazingly so

top!tsukki??? sign me the f*ck up

the whole plot, man. perfection.

pings by barfs ☆☆ | T

[5/02/16, 3:50:17 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Please wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:50:23 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I hate begging. You know I hate it.

[5/02/16, 3:50:34 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I bet you’re snickering at that, wherever you are.

[5/02/16, 3:50:53 AM] Tsukishima Kei: But, it keeps hurting and I don’t know why and it feels like shit and I know you could tell me why, but you’re not here and I would really appreciate it if you’d just wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:51:02 AM] Tsukishima Kei: You’re laughing at that too, aren’t you.

[5/02/16, 3:51:10 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Dying is probably up there in the list of top ten shitty things you’ve ever done, and you’ve done a lot of shitty things.

god.

you already know what’s coming, and yet. when it comes.

how the f*ck did the author make grief beautiful????????? (at the expense of me dying along with kei and everyone else i guess)

this fic will ruin you and bury you under all your pain (i hope you’re ready)

but also put you back together with the “sequel”

kyouhaba

close to the chest by darkmagicalgirl | T

It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

cause i’m (not) alright with the slow, burn~

no fr, take slow and burn very seriously

overthinking yahaba? i understand. i do.

again, such an amazing fic; 10/10 recommend

safe here by crossbelladonna ☆ | M

“Raids are routine work,” Kyoutani tells to Yahaba before he can air the question. “Sometimes there is no sleep done until we accomplish something, say kill a certain ghoul. I guess they’re still going through the possibility that people in the accident are still alive huh?”

Yahaba quirks a smile, pushing his mask up his head.

“You’re alive.”

Kyoutani looks at him intently and all of the things that they’ve gone through for the past month seems to flash in his mind.

“Yes I am.”

i haven’t watched tokyo ghoul but i understood everything perfectly. such is the power of f*cking kickass writing

*cue ugly crying and a lot of unresolved angst*

like the grief??????? ruin me please thank you 🙏 (i think i’m a little masochistic)

rare pairs

mannequin men by surveycorpsjean ☆ | M

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tuskishima]

The modelling world is full of hungry wolves, constantly clambering over the other, snarling and desperate. They fight, and they kill, trampling over anything in their path.

In this case, Akaashi fell in love with the wolves.

i did not expect this to be good, and it wasn’t. it was SPLENDID.

akaashi is so enamoured with them from the get go i love it

a tiny bit of angst that stabbed me in the heart, but the happy ending soothed it (thankfully, because if there wasn’t one i will sue)

characterisation, writing, plot development; everything is great. can you tell i’m running out of synonyms for ‘beautiful’

feel like gold by heronfem ☆☆ | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/kenma]

In which Kenma is unapologetic and comfortable with who he is, Akaashi learns a lot about himself in a short period of time, Kuroo is wildly in love and an eternal survivor, and Bokuto remembers that love doesn't cure mental illness, but having a support system sure helps a lot.

Or, the one where 4 young men get together, and are helplessly, hopelessly, utterly in love despite everything.

e.e. cummings?? poetry??? f*ck yes

so beautiful. i’m so star-struck by this fic it’s simply stunning

there are no words to fully capture how worth your time and heart and mind reading this fic is so please. do yourself a favour, and fall in love with this fic with me

the sky and guilt are the only feelings i have left by oopsthisisqueertoo ☆☆ | not rated

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo]

Akaashi is at his wits end. He feels nothing. He's quickly crumbling as a human being. He wants nothing but sweet release of death. In his fourth year of college he drafts a plan for his suicide. He is to graduate, publish writing for others to be inspired by, and slip quietly away. Shortly after, he meets a dog walker named Bokuto who asks him out and Akaashi reluctantly agrees. Nothing matters anymore and he treats Bokuto like an obligation. Until he's not anymore.

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPTS & DEPRESSION

this was... this gutted me entirely and filled my body with too many shades of agony

arguably one of the best haikyuu fics i’ve ever read

so beautiful in the most painful way fathomable; strongly recommend

april to may by surveycorpsjean | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tsukishima]

They're an odd family.

The four of them? Parents?

But still, they're a family.

So they'll support each other until the end.

aaahhhhh third gym as parents 🥺

so much fluff. i also love april and may

they’re still so in love there’s love in every millimetre of this fic :”)

that’s it for now! i’ll add more if i come across anymore good fics. i hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any requests/fic recs, or if u just wanna chat, feel free to just ask! hehe 🥰 k aight bye~

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #fic rec #beautiful #writing #ao3 fanfic #daisuga #kuroken #bokuaka #tsukkiyama #kagehina #third gym #iwaoi #fic #reference #hq