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seraphdreams · 2 years ago

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SMILE, YOU'RE ON CAMERA. | YUUTA OKKOTSU.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. when taking care of your university finances proves troublesome, the universe grants you your very own savior. but it’s gonna cost you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, college au!yuuta / bimbo reader (obvi), filming, lots of porn references… a lot, virginity loss, praise, oral n fingering, slight obsession, pussydrunk yuuta, unprotected love making, yuuta’s rich and unsettling. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 5.3k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! omg, yuuta? i meant to have this out a few weeks ago but got caught in a little writing slump :( nevertheless, here’s to a new year and a new fic! yuuta’s been slowly creeping his way up my favs list , tehe !! as always, please reblog / comment if you enjoyed this , it’ll fill me with joy. thank u ♡

you’re a pornstar.

albeit, an amateur one with heaps to learn regarding the ruthless industry, but the weight still stands.

the details in which you came to the jarring conclusion were muddled with the convoluted steps that it took for you to get there, murky in your bubblegum-filled mind. all you knew was that yuuta okkotsu was a force, a gentle one, to be reckoned with.

it must’ve played out once you returned to your campus dorm beyond the dusk of midnight, under an unmitigating fatigue from the twelve hour waitressing shift just prior. through abhorrent patrons and the lack of a spendable paycheck, the excruciatingly long night barely made you enough money to even think about buying those dollish pumps you’ve been yearning for. how cruel.

in between working and haphazardly handing your earnings over to university fees and textbooks, you just couldn’t seem to make ends meet.

you would curse the day you took it upon yourself to branch away financially from your parents under the guise of growing up, since now it’d be a blessing to have even a cellphone bill paid off. whatever the issue seemed to be, lady luck was truly never bothered enough to be on your side.

fortunately for you, though, it was that same arduous night, you had been huddled against your stuffed animals in bed, mindlessly scrolling through the various social media apps on your phone; switching from sites like instagram and twitter to youtube then right back to instagram all over again, only to be met with an offer dusted in pink glitter that caught your eye as if it were made for you.

“stars needed — will pay upfront.”

it was a shoddy story post, one that could be clicked past and forgotten forever — yet, a brisk reminder of your situation in the form of borrowed, used textbooks with pages missing or vandalized, and today’s horoscope that said to take risks; you did exactly that, aiming a swipe up that would ultimately rid you of the worries of yesterday.

there were no reasons as to why you couldn’t be a star. certainly, you had the face for it, and you were told by multiple charmers that you were beyond beguiling to get anything you could ever ask for. what dismay could possibly unfold from contacting .. yuuta okkotsu .. about his offer?

hm, that’s funny. the name rang familiarity as it seeded in your mind.

must be one of yuuji’s friends.

itadori yuuji, your best friend of three years now. out of all the time you’d spent together, you came to realize that he could get along with anyone, despite their true intentions. he spoke highly of his friends as well, which earned him a sacred spot in your heart that couldn’t be replaced by anyone.

itadori had briefly mentioned in a ramen-fueled frenzy that one of his peers were “so insanely talented” and that you’d definitely get on with him. but when you asked for validity on that vague claim, all yuuji seemed to respond with was a mere “just meet him, you’ll see.”

from your recollection, the acquaintance he was boasting about, as if it was his own personal victory, was none other than your yuuta okkotsu. he was meek, stuck to a close-knit friend group consisting of maki and toge from your physics class, and the one time you ever spoke to him was to ask about yuuji’s whereabouts, to which he responded that he went back to his dorm after gojo-sensei’s lecture.

he seemed, normal. average, even. that surely had to be the case since your memory was hazy on his being otherwise.

it was true, though, yuuta was gifted. in a way that transcended words, skillful towards visual aesthetics, and careful with the craft. he would spend most of his freetime fumbling with a camera or recording the works of the mundane. overtly, he’d grown such a strong passion in the field of videography in hopes to capture the reality of humanity, the authenticity within intimacy — what could he possibly need a “star” for?

shadiness aside, you were in a tough spot, willing to do whatever to free yourself from the financial burden that was jujutsu technical university. with a swift swipe in tandem with the soft tapping of the pads of your thumbs on the keyboard, you were taking yuuta up on his offer.

within seconds, he responded back with his address and an appropriate meet-up date to start the project.

if only you were aware of how drastically your life would change from here on out.

a cluster of days had passed since you last got into contact with yuuta. he had told you to meet him at his place, claiming it would be more efficient than traveling to an unnamed destination with pounds of heavy photography equipment.

where you stood currently, was in front of the bare oak of his front door, hand wrapped in a loose fist as you knocked gently on the wood. a quick moment had passed by before you took initiative to raise your fist and knock once more. before your touch could meet the wood, a muffled “coming!” chimed beyond the door. from what you had heard on the other side; the scuttling behind the door and jingle of the lock, yuuta had opened the door soon after.

with his hand rubbing away the goosebumps that stood at the back of his neck, he beamed. cordially, warmly.

“you’re actually here. hi,”

upon first glance, yuuta had a distinct look. he stood tall, not tall enough to matter or incite intimidation, and although he wore a black button-up (a bit formal for an occasion as casual as today), his lean build shone through under the thin fabric, ripples of veins dancing up his forearms. what you couldn’t miss, however, were the grey eyebags under his emotionless navy orbs, as if he’d forgone weeks of sleep.

yuuta okkotsu was unsettling.

“hi,” your voice sounded as a sweet croon, dulcet enough that you could barely hear it yourself as it escaped in a breathy breeze. his smile grew softer in response, that monotonous gaze in his eyes fizzling away into something of serenity. “come in, please,” yuuta held the door open wider for you to tread past, caught up in observing the bunch of fabric that hugged tightly around your ass, then closed it gently behind you once you stepped completely inside. he silently cursed at himself for ogling — he truly didn’t mean to stare. you’re just a lot prettier up close. “i was just getting set up. you can have a seat if you’d like.”

as you’d expect from any guy your age, his place wasn’t much to gaze at, nor did it have much personality. in a corner to your right was a houseplant, that of the fern variety, and a few steps deeper into the abode was the living room, where yuuta resumed his fumbling with the transfiguration of his tripod.

you decided to sit on the couch across from him, taking in the bleak sight of his home. you would have almost believed it was unlived in had it not been for the scattered midterm review papers decorating his coffee table. it was obvious he had money from the endless rows of space that surrounded the two of you, although a candle or something would be nice.

he peered away from his tripod to look through the viewfinder of his camera, ensuring that the lens was functioning properly. he grew pleased to see the image of you distracted in fiddling with your thumbs reflected back at him. “are you nervous?” his gaze fell upon you through his own eyes, a concerned expression harboring his features.

you were pulled out of your muse of unfamiliarity to direct your attention to the sound of his mild voice, returning a smile to his that eased the worriment trapped behind dull, blue eyes. “n-not really, i don’t think.”

his lips curled up once more at that, in fact there wasn’t a time so far that you hadn’t noticed him without his signature smile. “here, let me help with that,” reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen before ultimately turning it back off and settling it back into its place in his pocket.

your phone vibrated beside you, screen lighting up with a bold alert.

[YUUTA OKKOTSU SENT $1000]

before you had a chance to even process the significance of the notification, he started back up,

“i hope i got the right information, wouldn’t want your hard work to get in the wrong hands.” the tilt of his head in tandem with a chuckle resonated sheepishly, and he returned to watch you through his camera lens.

he was right. the money did soothe your nerves.

“i’ve barely done anything yet.” a ditzy giggle followed soon after your sentence, a sound that yuuta couldn’t possibly ignore. you were already starting to pull at his heartstrings.

“and you’ve done it so perfectly,” his praise left you flustered in that moment and you bit down softly on your lower lip to keep your smile at bay. “thank you, yuuta.”

you would’ve never guessed that your introverted classmate had enough experience in him to be such a flirt, or have your cheeks heating up with fervid affection, no less. but maybe yuuta was just like that; maybe this had been natural.

“no, thank you.” his thumb hovered over the record button just as his eyes met your gaze over the brim of the camera. “would you like to start now?”

he took the nod of your head as confirmation to press the record button, finally getting started with the project.

you blinked blankly at him as he tilted his head and flashed a warmhearted grin. “how old are you?” was his first question. he had asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. as he did so, you took notice of the silver ring donned around his finger.

he couldn’t have been married, no?

keeping your answer as vague as possible for the sake of matching his comforting warmth, you responded, “twenty-something.” he let out a satisfied huff of air as he nodded and moved onto his next query.

“and what’s your major?”

with the question barely having enough time to linger in the suggestively tense air, he added, “you’re very beautiful, by the way. do you mind taking your dress off for me?”

as much as it should’ve alarmed you, you were swayed by his toothachingly inviting timbre, its gentleness pulling compliancy from you in a matter of a few mere words. you only shook your head, forgoing the short piece of fabric that clung to each curve and dip of your body while your nipples hardened under the glacial, artificial breeze of his home. once the silk pooled at your hips, that, along with your panties were dropped onto the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable under the camera — and yuuta’s watchful eye.

he swallowed thickly at the sight, remaining as respectful as he could despite the monster growing in his pants; his eyes locked right back onto yours as if he’d get striked down for moving them even a millimeter south. “are you a virgin?” he queried, opting to move his hand from awkwardly at his side to fidgeting with the button at his shirt, ultimately undoing it and revealing another inch of skin at his heated chest.

from the nature of what you had signed yourself up for, you were hesitant to answer his question. of course you needed experience to be a star, and with you lacking the preconceived ability, you could kiss your $1000 goodbye..

yet he looked at you with an expectant gaze. no traces of malice in his eyes or frustration from your quick witted silence, but merely, with patience. and in that moment you couldn’t find it within yourself to lie.

“i am,” out of shame, you curled in on yourself, hoping that the sofa would engulf you, and your feelings, crossing your arms over your bare chest as if it’d create a wall of privacy behind your own humiliation. “is that okay?”

yuuta’s being only grew warmer at the response, you figured he’d be hot to the touch by now, from searing pleasure or unshakeable cordiality, you wouldn’t know. “yeah, that’s okay,” it came out breathier than he would’ve liked, a telltale sign of his aching desire. “that’s more than okay.”

truth be told, he had never met anyone as enchanting as you. you looked up at him with such trust in your eyes that it daunted him — fear that the assurance he wielded from you would shatter beneath him, and he’d be drowning. in a sea of his own wistfulness. now that he had you, he couldn’t let you go.

you were on to make a breathtaking star.

now feeling less coy than before, you relaxed your head into the palm of yuuta’s hand. you hadn’t noticed how long he’d been stroking at your cheek, or when he closed the vexing proximity between the two of you, all that mattered in that moment was the roll of his gentle vocables flowing through your ears and the thumb of his that graciously caressed your cheek.

you came to realize that he was much more handsome this way as your eyes toured his own, then down to the sliver of sweat-sheened skin peeking from underneath the black veil of his shirt, then down to his…

he’s so fucking hard.

confined against his slacks was his cock that leaked an ample amount even while it was untouched. you could make out its silhouette, something girthy, perhaps heavy, but nothing like you’d expect from yuuta. uncharacteristically huge.

“yuuta.” you whispered, mainly to yourself, as your mouth began to water at the sight, and his cheeks dusted pink once he realized what you were fixated upon.

“do you wanna,” he started up but faltered soon after when your lidded gaze flitted back up towards his. never had he felt so weak before, it was as if you’d casted a spell on him. “do you maybe want to—” he paused to avert his own gaze and embarrassment. “—put it in your mouth?”

he could’ve sworn he heard the increase of his heartbeat in his ears when you crinkled your brows, pretty face forming into an even prettier pout.

“but i’ve never—”

he stopped you before you could start, interjecting his own voice of reassurance.

“it’s okay. i’ll guide you,” taking his camera off its stand and moving the rest of the configuration elsewhere, he held it in one hand to better capture the scene unfolding before him. “just try your best for me, okay?”

“okay.” when he returned your concern with a small smile, you took it upon yourself to undo the arrangement of his pants, carefully hooking your finger into the elastic waistband of his briefs and pulling down just enough for his length to spring free.

for what felt like minutes, you marveled at his sheer size, wondering how anyone of his nature could possibly be hiding something like that. it curved upwards with a prominent vein or two running up the underside while it continued to leak, so much so, that you had to collect it all at the tip with your finger.

the tip? flushed the prettiest pink you’d ever witnessed and was as bulbous as it was mushroomed, you knew you’d have a bit of difficulty trying to fit into your mouth. it seemed to twitch under the fanning of your breath to which yuuta let out a whine of pure impatience.

“can i..?” your words trailed off when you involuntarily found yourself pressing chaste kisses along the length of his cock until they met with his sticky tip; a recreated scene from the various porn videos you’d seen. the sensation sent a jolt of palpable pleasure through his being, yuuta’s dark hair curtaining over his eyes while he made a damn good attempt at silencing his moans, with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip.

your eyes kept watch at his wavering expression while you wrapped your hand at the base of his length and began to pump slowly, yet another thing you had learned through the fascinating world of porn.

“suck it,” it was clear to you that yuuta had grown desirously impatient from your teasing, looking down at you with a hint of hunger in his beautiful orbs. “please?”

you took his words as an incentive to finally give him what he’s been leaking for, wrapping gloss-sheened lips around the thick inches of his tip, accommodating for the stretch with a dulcet whine that reverberated deeply within him. had you not been caught up in building the gradual bob of your head, he would’ve kissed you, left you with smeared lips and a tongue that ached for only him upon seeing the sinful sight of innocent eyes fixated on his own. you’re beautiful. truly, to die for.

caught all on tape to be watched over and over again.

at the bliss, yuuta’s lip parted open, alotting for a slur of groans turned whimpers to tumble past. “you- you’re already doing, so good.” he praises, the words floating on his breath. his free hand finds itself back at your face, thumbing the warmth of your hallowed cheek while he captured the moment behind his lens. once you came to a comfortable rhythm, you couldn’t stop yourself from dipping your fingers between your thighs to ease the evergrowing ache in your core. in fact, you’d been like this since the moment yuuta spoke a word to you, lightheaded and malleable — what he’s beginning to love most about you.

your digits collected slick at your entrance, the immeasurable amount of essence that you’d pool providing ample leeway for you to sink three fingers inside, pumping at the same rhythm in which you’re sucking yuuta. soft fingertips curling against your gummy walls weren’t enough, though, and when he had caught notice of your weakening resolve, his hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth.

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” he began, with a choked moan. “just- so close, so fucking close. c-can you take me in deeper?”

the hum of assurance that sounded from you sent vibrations coursing through his cock, from tip to base. had you not been preoccupied with chasing your own high, you would’ve missed the pitchy moan he let out just after. with your palm now pressed up against your clit while you worked in tandem to pleasure the nub and your greedy hole, you attempted to swallow another stubborn inch of him.

simultaneous with the bobbing of your head, he matched your pace, abdomen flexing when the white-hot pleasure became too much and he could feel it in his ears. he wanted so badly to throw his head back, completely lose himself in bliss, but he had a job to do. he wouldn’t dare let the sight of your glassy lidded eyes and glossy lips struggling to wrap themselves around the stretch of his dick go unfilmed, unseen.

as his tip continued to prod the back of your throat and your fingers aided you in relieving the discomfort from your cunt, you found yourself just dangling off the dangerous edge of your release, strokes away from making a mess — and yuuta did too.

it wasn’t long until his head started spinning, legs got weaker, and his core coiled tighter; all the signs of a mindblowing orgasm, and blew his mind, you did. “baby- y/n, if you keep doing that- i might cum.” what he was referring to was the way you fondled his balls in the warmth of your soft hands, yet another trick you had learned from porn. “i don’t wanna cum in your mouth but if you—,”

a jumbled slew of curses flowed from his lips as he did the inevitable, shot his load deep down your throat, gently thrusting his cock in shallow strokes to jettison every last remaining drop. the taste on your tongue was nothing like you’d be warned of before. yuuta wasn’t bitter, he went down easy.

hell, you’d use his cum as a condiment for desserts if you could.

in a matter of moments, your own high had washed over you like cold water over a heated body, much needed and refreshing. once he hesitantly pulled out from the heat of your mouth, cock still hard and twitching for more, he gently pushed back strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“can i see?”

you held out your cream-slickened fingers, sopping with your juices as yuuta proceeded to catch how they dripped on camera. he then took your palm, with the cadence of a knight kissing the back of a princess’s hand, and slipped the soiled digits into his mouth. his tongue lavved around your index and middle fingers while he hummed satisfactorily at your taste. “you’re just as sweet as i imagined.” he smiled, finding amusement in your post-orgasmic, dazed state.

“do you do this with a lot of other girls, yuuta?” you queried, taking the time to scan your eyes over his face. it was as if he seemed to get more attractive as your time with him went on. he tilted his head slightly, finding your question endearing. “you’re my first, actually.” yuuta responded softly, as if his normal speaking voice would be too heavy on your delicate ears.

you jumped at the chance to tease him as he did you, placing your thumb back over the slit of his hard-on and lightly rubbing; which resonated within yuuta as a tonal mewl. a little smile pulled at your lips when you got your perfect reaction. “can you be my first?”

“i’d love to be,” he took your request with unadulterated honor as if he’d been tasked by the deities above to serve you. “just- just lay back for me. i promise i’ll take good care of you.”

and that you did; conforming to his call of request with such compliance it made his heart swell. you had positioned your body to rest languidly against the seat of the sofa, shaky legs hesitant to spread fully while your hand roamed up your sternum to find solace in kneading your tits.

he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked, laid out for him as such. how had he been so lucky to be the only one to have the opportunity to marvel at the scene? with a steady hand, he faintly trails his hand up the expanse of your inner thigh, a silent beckon for you to open your legs wider. involuntarily so, your body had accepted his presence and allowed for the spreading of your thighs.

what you’d come to notice with yuuta was that he was watchful, observant. he seemed to pick up on every detail, even the minuscule bits that were most likely to fly over anyone else’s head, had been taken into account. it’s probably why he’s immensely proficient at what he does. not once had he allowed himself to miss the labored heaving of your chest, or the sheen of sweat thinly coating your body — the twitching of your clit when he stroked featherlight touches at the nub. he couldn’t call himself a true cameraman then.

his fingers had collected remnants of your previous orgasm before they worked in tandem, both middle and ring, to prod at your sensitive hole, slowly sinking themselves in. it was almost embarrassing how quickly your greedy cunt swallowed him in, as if it’d been waiting for his touch for years now. “y-yuuta, ‘m still sensitive.” you crooned in response to his digits exploring your cavern, plush walls gripping him with such tautness that he’d found it difficult to even curl his fingers.

his own mind spun (and cock leaked) at the thought of that same warmth around his length, and when you called his name, all he could think about was how pretty you’d sound moaning it. he wouldn’t mind if you were sonorous, if the neighbors would hear, if inumaki who lived downstairs would come knocking with a mouthful of complaints, if the whole world knew his name; because in that moment, yuuta okkotsu was yours.

yuuta okkotsu was in love.

after some shallow pumping, enough to have your legs attempting to enclose around his arm, yuuta had pulled his digits out and replaced the lost sensation with the fat tip of his cock stroking your slit up and down.

“i’m gonna put it in, okay? if you want me to stop, tell me. if i'm going too fast or slow, let me know.”

he perused your face for a hint of an answer, seemingly nothing going on behind your vacant, large eyes. your initial response was curt, an ode to the simplistic nature of your mind. “mhm.”

how endearing you were to him, just a unadorned reaction weakening his being, causing his heart to figuratively crumble within its confines against his ribcage. he had searched for a heartier answer, something tangible to hold on to, because, lord knows how terrible he’d feel if he took your indication the wrong way. “can you be vocal for me, please?”

you nodded your head. “i’ll let you know, yuuta.”

with a carefulness that only came from the most benign of beings, he had sunken the first inch of himself into your awaiting heat.

he was paused when your hand dashed to his lower abdomen, futilely pressing against the skin.

“wait—” you huffed wantonly. “—‘s too big.”

his eyes wavered with concern, hidden under the veil of pure arousal. in yuuta’s case he had dreamed of a compliment as self fulfilling as yours, for his thoughts of being average were shattered upon first inch. “should i stop?”

you shook your head, reveling in the light of his attentivity towards you and your body. “no,” you moved your hand from his abdomen. “don’t stop.”

one of his arms rested beside your head, helping to prop him up over your body while he dropped his head down to watch the way your bodies connected. gradually, the sight of his length slowly sinking inside, stretching you out further and further until he was in to the hilt flooded his vision. yuuta had caught on to your labored gasps, merely growing harder from your honeyed voice like music to his ears.

he then lifted his head, strands of inky, out-of-place tresses falling over his face and partially covering the depth of lingering eyes, that lingered for a second too long, causing that shuddering sensation you had once felt when you first met him to reappear. he held his camcorder beside his face, an all too cheerful grin masked over his features. “i’m all in!”

creepy.

there was no doubt that you hadn’t felt full. he practically spilled over with how much girth he possessed and throbbed innately within your walls. the swell of your tummy from just how deep he was, was enough to tear away at his composure and drag his length back before driving his hips in at a force unrecognizable to him. the yelp you had let out from his eager thrust dwindled into a blissful moan. “sorry, so sorry.” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off the faultless assortment of breathtaking features that was your face, eyebrows creased together, parted lips and eyes squeezed closed as if you’d been focused solely on the pleasure he was giving you.

his next thrust stroked softer than its predecessor, having no remnants of eagerness but instead, the nuance of a man that’d been simply smitten.

the meticulousness of his ministrations coursed through your body wondrously, each push and pull lathered in lust, savored to be remembered for the rest of his time on earth. it was as if he’d known your body for years, knew every dip and fold, every swell and mast, aware of what exactly it took to leave your body hungry for his touches.

you’d grown comfortable in the pace at which he set, your mind hazing over each time the blunt tip grazed along your gspot. he peppered kisses along your jaw and down your sternum, the fanning of his warm breath against your chest doing the minimum in stiffening the peaks of your breasts. shootable footage forgotten, yuuta took your mound into his mouth, teeth gently rolling against your nipple which caused you to tighten around his cock in response, the sweetest mewl he’s ever heard from you tumbling from your throat.

“at least take me on a date first, yuuta..” the wittiness of your voice had earned a stifled smile from him, finding utmost admiration in the suggestion. he’ll be sure to take you up on your offer, just as you had done for him.

when you felt the familiar coil within you starting to build up once more, you dipped your hand down to rub at your clit in tandem with the increasing vigor of his strokes. the sensation was all too foreign to you, too pleasurable that you couldn’t keep your sounds at bay. “‘m so close, g-gonna cum!” you had warned, yuuta pulled away from your tit with a soft pop. he chose to rest his head at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, mindlessly chanting the words like a mantra.

“i love you, i love you,” his pace faltered, growing sloppier by the second. “love you, love you so much.”

intoxicated by your heat, your scent, just you being you, and being so perfect — yuuta was pussydrunk. incredibly so. never in his life had he ever felt as high as you made him. you were an angel, sent to him from heaven, to defile and mark.

quickly, your release surged through you in torrents of ecstasy, nothing that you’ve experienced before, coating yuuta’s cock in the glorious essence of you. “cumming!” you cry, to no avail particularly since yuuta wasn’t wholeheartedly aware of the situation at hand. his mind was clouded with you, just as you were full of him, wincing in the aftershocks of your fervent orgasm and convulsing around his length with need.

it wasn’t long before his own ununified thrusts came to a sudden close, signifying the warm spurts of cum painting your insides, filling you entirely to the brim and leaking down your ass from riding out his high.

“god, i love you.” he whined, pressing faint kisses to your neck, unable to peel himself away from your fervid body. coming to your senses, his words finally resonated for you. “we only just met.”

he pulled himself up, opting to look down at your flushed face with a vague hint of confusion on his face as he tilted his head. “have we?”

“we have.” you nodded.

to yuuta, he’s known you his whole life. you were the light of his existence, the fire in his heart. had he managed to confuse you with someone else? surely, that wasn’t the case.

once he pulled out of you, he made sure to capture the moment that you leaked his seed on film, but in that time, borrowed jealousy had filled his soul. he couldn’t share the tape as he had planned, no one else deserved to see you in the same way he did. no one.

he tucked himself back into his pants, leaving you bare and oozing for just one second to fetch a warm wet rag to clean you up with. when he came back, you noticed just how chipper he’d gotten, if that were even possible. “you were amazing,” he smiled, gently wiping your folds pristine. “i’m so grateful you came to me.” the smile you returned matched his own, “thank you, you were- really good too.”

he perked up, eyes moving from between your thighs to your face. “really?” and when you nodded to him, you could see the apparent relief flow within his being. “you know,” he started. “i’m very interested in you.”

you tilt your head, jutting your lips in a cute pout. “interested, how?”

the camcorder that now resided on his coffee table, unpresumebly documenting the scene on display was picked up by yuuta, and turned off. he grinned softly, eyes shutting from his ear to ear smile.

“may i take you on a date?”

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chubby-bun-bun · 8 months ago

Text

untitled (part 3)

You reunite with your crow friend! But it seems to need your help with… a man?

nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of blood and death, descriptions of a panic attack, bossman is here yay

“Congratulations! You’ve just won the loyal customer raffle at Linkon Supermarket!”

“But I shop at Bloomshore Mart.”

“Yup, congratulations!”

You furrow your brows, eyeing the paper the delivery driver is enthusiastically waving in your face. Sure enough, it announces the conclusion of the famous supermarket’s year-end raffle, and there it is: your full government name printed neatly under “winner.”

Beyond his shoulder, you notice the other worker unloading boxes from the delivery truck. He’s dressed in the same uniform, with identical dark curls and also sporting a black face mask. He catches your gaze and gives a lazy thumbs-up.

There must be something wrong with your memory, because you could swear you haven’t stepped foot in Linkon Supermarket in years—let alone registered for their raffle. That place isn’t exactly known for catering to the humbler economic classes.

And it’s still 5:30 a.m. Have supermarkets always done graveyard shift deliveries?

“Thanks��” You squint at the driver’s name tag. “…Lukas.”

“No problem!”

Once the two workers finish unloading and stacking boxes of who-knows-what in your living room, they wave cheerfully before speeding off down the street. Half-asleep, you manage only a bemused wave in return.

You think you might’ve been cursed. Or blessed. It’s hard to say. Because ever since your crow friend escaped a week ago, it feels like you’ve already blown through a lifetime’s worth of luck.

In the span of days, you’ve gotten a raise and better employee benefits (odd, considering you’re still just an assistant manager), won lifetime vouchers for three of your favorite food spots, and now, apparently, won a supermarket raffle—complete with at least three months’ worth of groceries.

Rummaging through the boxes, you find they’re stocked with all your usual brands. Snacks, non-perishables, beauty products, household items—everything. Even fresh produce.

For the first time in a while, you won’t have to worry about going hungry.

—

You’re not sure why you’ve come back to the park tonight.

It’s late, and you’ve already visited the crows earlier, spoiling them with extra bags of peanuts thanks to your recent streak of good fortune.

The crows seem to wonder the same thing. While they peck enthusiastically at the peanuts, their beady eyes occasionally flick toward you, as if to silently judge your lack of anything resembling a social life.

Admittedly, you’ve been hoping to see your crow friend again.

You think you’re starting to come to terms with its disappearance. Life goes on, right? It’s just an animal, after all. It probably doesn’t feel the same complex emotions humans do—the kind that have you so affected by its absence after only a few days of sharing a space. (Maybe it was a one-sided friendship all along...) It probably just followed its instincts, leaving to do whatever it is that lone crows do.

Still, a petulant part of you feels bitter. Sure, it left behind a hoard of treasures—trinkets, gems, and gold so polished they must be real (though you’re not ready to think about where it might have stolen them)—but it could’ve at least waited for you to come home before flying off.

In hindsight, maybe it’s a good thing you never had pets. Your apparent abandonment issues would be a nightmare to deal with if they got lost, ran away, or died.

Suddenly, a familiar series of shrill caws pierces the air. Before you can process what’s happening, something crashes into your lap, a blur of loose black feathers hitting your face.

Could it be…?

The unmistakable garnet glint in the midnight-feathered avian’s eyes confirms it. Without hesitation, you scoop the bird into your arms, pulling it tightly to your chest, and press a rough, enthusiastic kiss to its head.

“Where have you been?” you exclaim, laughing as you nuzzle the void-like creature against your cheek, smothering it in an embrace. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

Its muffled caws are drowned out by your babbling. “Oh gosh—your wing! How is it?” you say, quickly pulling back to inspect it.

Its feathers look good—healthy, even. In fact, they almost seem brand new, gleaming like a freshly unboxed gadget. Its once-injured left wing no longer looks broken—or as you’d thought before, no longer resembling a mechanical part with a loose screw.

Before you can start fussing over it again, the bird suddenly wriggles free from your grasp and lands steadily on your lap. It caws again, but something’s different. It’s louder, more piercing—frantic. It paces across your lap, continuing to practically scream at you, as if trying to tell you something.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, your heart squeezing at the sight of its feathers puffing up with each stressed caw.

You try to pat its head, hoping to calm it down, but it jumps off your lap and lands on the ground, still cawing. The other crows, clearly spooked by its urgent cries, start to scatter. Bewildered, you bend down, attempting to scoop it into your arms again, but it evades you by hopping a few feet away, still cawing—loudly.

“What is it?” you say, exasperated. I can’t speak crow!

You step closer, bending down once more, but it hops away—again.

You stare up at the heavens. This has to be some cosmic joke. You can’t believe you’re playing this strange version of tag with a bird.

You don’t even realize how far you’ve walked, now a good distance from the bench you were sitting on. You’ve reached the darker area of the park, still desperate to grab the cawing bird and figure out what’s wrong. Then, without warning, your foot catches on a tree root. You stumble, and before you can recover, you hit the cold, wet ground with an unceremonious thud.

“Well, there goes my good luck streak,” you mutter, trying to push yourself up. Good thing nobody’s around to witness your embarrassing lack of coordination.

“Tell me about it.”

The sudden presence of a deep, unfamiliar voice makes you freeze. Heart pounding wildly, you scramble to sit up, eyes darting toward the source.

It wasn’t a tree root you tripped over. It was a leg—a stretched-out leg attached to a man slumped against one of the park’s statues. A huge, beautiful man, with silver hair and a pair of breathtaking garnet eyes, half-lidded and filled with amusement. He’s clutching his abdomen, the fabric there soaked in dark, ominous red.

Blood.

A field of red datura blooms. A starry night sky with the clouds beneath you. Mountains of gold against jagged walls. A burning plaza. A bloodied claymore.

You don’t register the ringing in your ears or the flash of blurry, unfamiliar images racing through your mind. Your gaze remains locked on the man’s injury. Before you know it, you’re shrugging off your puffer jacket and sweater. Now clad in just your turtleneck, you drop to your knees and press your sweater firmly against his wound.

You, waiting for your turn to walk on stage to receive your diploma. A university staff member rushing toward you. You, running out of the graduation venue. Two totaled SUVs. Three dead bodies.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you work methodically. Stop the bleeding. Stop the blood. Apply pressure. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Just keep pressing. Don’t think about how much there is. Don’t panic. You fold the sweater tighter against the wound. Okay, stop the bleeding first. That’s all you know. Just keep the pressure steady. He’s losing too much. Is this enough? Should I tie it off? No, just keep pressing. Keep him alive.

The edges of your vision begin to blur. You have to save them. You have to save him. They can’t leave you. He can’t leave you. Not again.

“Sweetheart.”

The word, softly spoken, snaps you out of your trance. Your eyes lift to meet his, and the world seems to still. You’ve never met this man in your life, but the way he looks at you—it hurts. It feels like an ancient grief has surfaced from the depths of your soul.

You finally notice the state you’re in. You’re shaking. Badly. The cold winter air bites into your skin, sharp and unforgiving. Your palms are scraped from your earlier fall, but you hardly register the sting. The man’s hands—large and warm—enclose your trembling ones, grounding you.

And it’s like you’ve never known peace until this very moment.

note: can u tell the extent of my yearning to be spoiled with groceries LMAO

nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3

check out my other works!

#ori.writes #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #love and deepspace #sylus fluff #sylus angst #sylus hurt/comfort #sylus comfort

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savanir · 5 months ago

Text

The cure to vampirism is to never get turned at all

Dick is not ashamed to admit he's in trouble.

He's surrounded on all sides by vampires (because that's a thing now), he's put in this situation by his sister which is just great. Some ancient vampire lady named Pandora says she needs him to defeat the Queen of Blood named Mary and he's pretty sure that involves him being turned into a vampire as well, which he doesn't want.

He's good but even he can tell his odds are pretty shit. There is no backup coming and even if he could call them they would never arrive on time.

And of course he's in his civvies and doesn't have any of his gear. Just fantastic.

But if he goes down he'll go down fighting.

"DANIEL!!"

everything screeches to a halt as the furious booming male voice echoes through the room.

A large ornate wooden double door in the back slams open and a young man rushes through slamming them closed behind him.

Intricate red and green flashes of energy cover the doors and then the young man turns to the crowd in the fancy crypt.

"Our young gifted prince? There is no need for you to attend this meeting, But if there is a way we may assis-?" The question hovers in the air, choked off as the young man runs forward and with hands shimmering in eerie venomous green and deep blood red energy he tears through the random vampire's throat, startling all the others.

"I'm putting an end to this madness, here and now" He drops the gradually disintegrating corpse on the ground.

"Young prince!?" Exclaims lady Pandora.

For Dick things become a blur after that. Screaming and screeching and inhuman growling. The young man easily tears through them all with his powers. It seems some form of backup did arrive, but if this is a blessing or a curse remains to be seen.

Dick doesn't understand though, he seems to be one of them so why...?

One second they are all still fighting then the next the old vampire lady is lying dead on the ground, gradually turning into dust. The vampires who remain all stare at the young man in shock. “he… he killed Pandora, our oldest. The strongest of us”

None of them seem to know what to do now. There are a lot of dead vampires all around, in Dick’s humble opinion this meeting could not have gone worse for the acolytes of shadow. He’s not feeling too upset about that though considering what they wanted from him. Still, the fact that they aren’t outright trying to kill this young prince in retaliation… he must be someone special, that alone is more than enough for Dick to keep his guard up around him.

Then the young man darts forward and grabs Dick's wrist, "we have to leave, the seal I put on the door is about to break. I won't be able to protect you from him"

"Who?" Dick can’t help but ask as they both start running for the exit. The young man quickly dragging him up the stairs. For a split second does Dick think about Melinda, he’s not entirely sure if she was among the ones killed or not. She was the one who tricked him into that mess.

Well, she absolutely knew the consequences, she told them about him being Nightwing, if whatever is left down there decides to punish her for this fiasco that’s probably what she deserves.

"I'll explain everything later, I promise, but we need to go now!"

The furious noises behind them grow steadily in volume. Danny pushes Dick forward as he slams the red fake fridge door closed behind them and another flash or red and green covers that as well, another seal of sorts most likely. The one other person in the kitchen startles as the two of them run past him.

"Who are you?"

"Call me Danny, now this way, quick!" the young prince, Danny apparently, faults over the Waffle House front desk Dick not hesitating to do the same.

"DANIEL HOW DARE YOU!" comes faintly from behind them as Danny slams the fake establishments front doors open and pulls Dick out of there.

"Oh he's next level mad" mutters Danny as they are running again. Meanwhile Dick is just very glad to be breathing in the fresh cold night air of Bludhaven.

However, his legs are having trouble keeping up with the pace, he has taken some serious hits and those things definitely don't pull any punches.

He can’t help the faint pained groan and the speed with which the other man snaps his attention back on him almost makes him flinch.

"Do you need a hand?"

"I'm fine"

"Here let me-"

Next thing Dick knows he's being carried, if he wasn't friends with so many supers and speedsters he'd probably be flailing. Instead he's just kinda used to it and lets it happen even if it’s a bit awkward what with Danny being a bit shorter than him.

He's glad when they get to a safehouse and Danny puts him on the couch. He then goes to fetch Dick the first aid kit.

"Who were we running from?"

"Old as balls vampire lord named Vladimir Masters, he’s in cahoots with the acolytes of shadow. And I guess he’s now fully in charge seeing Pandora just had her final death."

Dick pauses and just looks at him.

"Yes he's really named that" Danny looks rather tired.

"And I'm guessing he's the sort who is going to be a massive headache"

"I mean they had this whole plan of world domination, you were a key player in that plan which is now completely ruined by the way. I was part of it too but I really don't want anything to do with any of that so... here we are"

"Here we are"

It's only when Dick is fully bandaged that Danny flops down in the nearest arm chair and drops his head in his hands and takes a deep shuddering breath. Perhaps all the murder is catching up to him?

"Are you okay?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just... thirsty... I'll be fine"

"Ah yes of course, vampire."

"I'm unfortunately a vampire yeah but don’t get it twisted, I'm absolutely not one of them" Danny looks up and sneers, Dick can now clearly see the fangs. “Seeing humans as cattle… the absolute moronic-” Danny trails off in furious muttering. “living in a world with demons and angels and aliens and whatever else but no we’re the ones who deserve special treatment.”

Dick makes a choice and then gets up, Danny watching him go and curiously listening to him opening and closing something in a different room before coming back and holding out a blood bag with a bit of IV tube hanging out of it.

"Here you go."

“Oh! thank you,” Danny gladly takes the bag, "You just have bags of blood in your house?"

"You never know when you need an emergency blood transfusion. Especially considering my nightly activities." … you know that sounds kinda vampiric in it’s own way doesn’t it?

Danny snorts and starts drinking. It kind of looks like a huge capri-sun that way. It's sort of adorable.

If only it wasn't a massive plastic bag of Dick's own blood but whatever.

They both fall quiet as Danny focuses on his drink and Dick takes a moment to think about the absolute mess he just went through.

“Someone called you gifted… what did they mean by that?”

“This mostly,” Danny holds out his hand and shows Dick the strange glowing mixture of red and green energy he saw down in the crypt. “I am a huge anomaly because I became a vampire while I was half alive and half dead. What that means for the most part is enhanced powers, I am even harder to kill than a regular vampire and you cannot fix my vampirism with one of those disgusting smelling pits of… what was it called? Lar- Lazard?” “Lazarus,”

"Yes that! Anyway I am like.. the backup to their world domination plan, initially they just wanted me to be their weapon but I have morals, pesky things, super annoying according to them. Which is why they decided to ‘recruit’ you. But I managed to screw that up too.” Danny looks very satisfied with himself about that.

“Thanks for that” Dick says genuinely earning him a cheeky sharp fanged grin from Danny. Though he wished it had not involved such a massive carnage, he’s very glad he’s not a vampire right now. Beggars can’t be choosers he guesses.

“It would probably be best to get the League involved, root them all out. Vlad is definitely going to make more drastic moves now that things have turned out this way.”

Dick ponders to himself, “Yeah… let’s be Helsing about it,” He already got a Vampire on his side too.

Danny dejectedly looks down at his empty blood bag, “... can I have another?” He asks carefully.

“Sure!” responds Dick with a smile that finally manages to ease the tension out of Danny’s shoulders.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #ficlet of something I'll probably never write #feel free to add on to this if you want #I mostly made this after I finished my research in Vampire King Dick #which left me sad and incredibly disappointed #what a waste #I am definitely not a DC vs Vampires fan #you would think that screwing up 'vampires' would be hard considering what else is out there #So here I am. this is my fix-it so to speak #what if it never happened at all. huge improvement!#if you really like DC vs Vampires this isn't for you #death defying #savwrites

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #cod krueger #sebastian krueger #konig #konig cod #cod nikto #polyamory #bad neighbours #men at work

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babydoll372 · 1 month ago

Note

Sorry for this im not really good at requesting stuff 😭But for part 2 of angel could it be something like wanda and r are hanging out with R’s friends and maybe they get too close and wanda gets jealous…

After they get home Wanda is still totally oblivious to how much stronger she is than reader and yk takes her anger out on r in bed (rough) but could there be a line that goes like “why are you running im giving you what you want”

Sorry for not really giving you a good request this is my first time asking 💔

Angel Pt. 2

Pairings: Angel!Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: 928

Warnings: not spell-checked, smut, strap on sex, service top!wanda, jealousy, overstimulation, innocent!wanda, spanking (very light amount)

A/N: Ik I said I’d do longer fics from now on but I don’t think I have the motivation currently 😭 sorry if that upsets you but I’ll be doing smaller, blurb sizes from now on with all fics

Wanda huffs with each thrust, ignoring the sounds of the headboard slamming against the wall vigorously or the squeaking of the frame, all she cares about is watching your face contort with pleasure. She occasionally glanced down to where the strap hooked to her hips met your hole, chewing on her lip as she got lost in the sight of your juices spraying your own thighs. Her wings weren’t contained inside her dress any more, and now they hang freely behind her.

“Wanda- fuck! Can’t…I c-can’t t-take any more…” You weakly spoke, and she barely heard the words, too focused on the rest of your body. You knew it was your fault you ended up in this position, but really you had no idea in the world you were doing anything wrong when your friend was touching your arm, whispering in your ear, laughing at all of your jokes. She had always been a touchy person, you thought she did the same with everyone, but maybe Wanda was right to pull you away, telling you in a whispered, angry ramble that she clearly was trying to make a move on you. You denied it at first, but as you drove the two of you home, since she is yet to get her license, you could only think about how stupid you sounded looking back on every moment you shared with the girl. And it was clear Wanda wasn’t happy, which is why she politely asked you, with a frown residing on her face, if she could take this feeling out on you in the bedroom.

You could feel your second orgasm approaching and choked out a sob, repeating her name like a delicate whisper as your hips jutted upward. You could see by the etching in her eyebrows that she is focused, like she is planning every step.

“May I slap you?” Came her sweet voice, and it almost felt wrong to hear those words come from such vocals. You nod, too weak to say or do much else in order to grant permission, but she doesn’t need anything more. Your thighs that were separated in the air suddenly fell target to her hand, and she apologized after each one. She only slapped you twice. You would’ve chuckled if you could, but somehow, she was still able to remain the same pace of her hips without a bead of sweat on her forehead, without a cramp in her muscles. It must be an Angels gift, her stamina, but to you it’s both a blessing and a curse.

“Wanda, t-this is the last one- fuck! Oh shit, oh shit!” Your voice grew lower until your lips move but no sound comes out, and she watches your thighs shake again just like before. She still has no idea what that means but she likes to assume it’s a good thing.

“Baby, I’m so fucking close- don’t fucking stop!” You moan, loudly at that, and she nods as if she was following her bosses requests. The soft, squishy ridges of the toy rub right against your g-spot, and with her momentum, it doesn’t take long before your release squirts along her soft skin, and you’re too blown out to realize what you just did. But the moment you’re able to bring yourself back to awareness, a whine escapes you. You’re sore, aching, and now slowly trying to inch away from her. Wanda doesn’t realize why, so she quickly pulls you in closer to her, leaning down in a new position with her arms around you and your faces less than inches apart. You shake your head repeatedly, whimpering against her and using your legs to try and push her off. You watch the frown return to her face and almost feel guilty, but then you instantly remember the soreness as she thrusts again.

“Wanda, please…please, get off.” You sigh in relief as the toy inside of you halts, but it’s not quite enough. She’s still hugging you, frowning at your resistance. You can’t entirely blame her, she doesn’t understand what’s wrong, but you wish she just had a little bit more common knowledge.

“Why are you running from me? I thought you’d want this too.” Your fingers lift her chin to make her look you in the eyes so she knew she was not doing anything wrong. Her wings even sulked with her.

“I’m not running from you, I did want this too. But now I’m sore and I need to stop, do you understand? So please, I need you to remove the strap gently and then we can cuddle again.” Her eyes widen, the only thing that seems to register in her brain was that you are in pain. She jolts up, careful to not cause the strap to bring more hurt as she slowly removes it from your tight entrance. She hears you quietly whimper and apologizes, sitting there nervously at the end of the bed.

“Uhm, now I get the cloth, right? Yeah, that’s right! Right?” Your nod brought a smile to her face as she rushes to the bathroom. She gives herself a mental checklist: clean off the toy, grab a hand towel, wet it with warm water, grab lotion, go back. And each item is used generously, mainly because she doesn’t have a sense of time and can accidentally spend an hour cleaning you off alone. She treats it with careful precision and stands with a giddy smile once she’s done, stretching her arms out for you to allow her into your arms to cuddle with.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff marvel #scarlet witch x reader smut #scarlet witch fluff #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch smut #scarlet witch marvel #scarlet witch #wanda marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel

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slightly-knot-insane · 9 months ago

Text

Bloody Blessed

Monstertober 2024 - day 23 + 27 [ Curse + Bloodthirst ] by @ozzgin

[ werewolves x fem!reader ]

content: blood, knotting, orgy, licking, oral, anal, piv, and a random curse by a curse generator lol

tw: cannibalism

You never expected to wake up surrounded by a pack of surprised werewolves. You had no idea how you got in that situation. You expect them to maul and devour you but instead they just stare at you, cautiously whispering among themselves. You realize your mouth is full of some metallic tasting liquid and that you are soaked in blood. Did they already hurt you? But you are not in pain. You are completely unharmed. Actually, you feel excellent. That is not your blood.

"We heard terrible screaming and came to investigate", one of the worried werewolves explains. "And we saw you... and that bloke over there."

You turn around only to witness remains of a barely recognizable human. You burp and a shocking realization dawns on you - you ate a human. You're a murderer. Even worse - a cannibal!

You start crying and the werewolves immediately approach you. They sniff your body and lick the tears off your face. "Little human! What is wrong? Are you hurt?"

"That damn artifact!" you shout. "Why did I take it? Why did I sell it? I felt something was wrong with it." A very pissed off god must have cursed you. And now you're an abomination, hungry for human flesh.

While you explain how shocked and disgusted you are, werewolves comfort you in the best way they can. "Why? You are so strong. So fierce. We will help you hunt bad humans and we will eat them together with you." They know you can't return to the human society so they offer to adopt you and teach you how to become one of them.

You are reluctant and scared, and they sense that. "Try," they say. "We will take care of you. We are sure you will love being one of us." You quickly notice the difference between the three of them. One of them talks and compliments you the most. He strokes your hair and face, pushing his fingers inside your mouth, investigating your teeth and tongue. The second one licks your arms and shoulders, and delicately bites your breasts and hips. You are soon covered in noticeable bite marks and hickeys. The third one lightly scratches you all over, sniffing your palms and inner thighs. He is the quietest, but his eyes burn the most.

They slowly remove your bloodied and tattered clothes and lick all the nasty blood stuck on your skin. You breathe heavily, overwhelmed with new sensations. Whimpers and mewls escape your lips and werewolves grin and chuckle, enjoying your exasperation. You are soon completely wet from their drool and you arousal being smeared by their claws and snouts. All three phalluses are out of sheaths, moist from need.

One of them pulls you on him, squeezing your hips. You rub against his cock, painfully horny, and he leads you onto his length. You are only allowed a little taste of his full size before he spreads your ass cheeks to let his other pack member claim you from behind. You yelp, surprised, but are quickly shut by a thick penis shoved down your throat. Choking but enjoying it at the same time, you're roughly fucked in all three holes. Your new pack mates switch, abusing your body in many ways, growling and panting, and howling every time you orgasm, enjoying it as much as you do.

They all want to knot you at the same time, but the one who gets to claim and breed your pink pussy has to be special so they decide to fuck you individually this time, and the one who gets you to orgasm the fastest gets to knot your cunt. You aren't sure who won because you were completely brain fogged from all the pleasure you were drowning in. Begging and moaning to let you rest, all three of them enter you at the same time, and knot you, spurting their cum into you mouth, ass and pussy. They remain inside you for some time, praising you and lovingly stroking your swollen sweaty stomach.

* * *

Werewolves take good care of you and every time bloodthirst curse overcame you, they captured and brought a human. Then, all four of you feasted on him. For a while, you felt awful every time you did that, grateful you had amnesia during that day. But soon, after many months of being pampered and bred by your werewolf boyfriends, you accepted this bloody cycle and your beautiful poly pack. Besides, you had to admit, sex after feasting was the most intense and feral experience you ever had. In a very twisted and morbid way, you felt blessed for being cursed.

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literaila · 1 year ago

Note

gojo is the type of scare kid megumi that the teeth that just fell out will never grow back again

“i need the first aid kit,” megumi says, a scowl already in his voice.

does satoru flinch away from the seven year old? well, um… maybe a little bit. but to be fair he was very distracted trying to pick out a new photo to set as his home screen.

should it be you wearing his glasses with a dopey smile? or tsumiki holding that kitten you said they couldn’t keep? he still can’t decide.

…and he’d forgotten that megumi was even home.

(when satoru decided to become a father, he didn’t think it would include several heart attacks and being physically tormented every day.)

after a moment of reflection, satoru scoffs, readjusting his glasses and sparring megumi a glance—the frown was expected honestly. “what happened to ‘hi, how are you?’”

“i don’t care,” the boy answers, shaking his head. “it’s not under the sink.”

“what isn’t?”

“the first aid kit.”

the look megumi is giving him is a little bit insulting, actually. it’s not satoru’s fault he wasn’t blessed with telepathy. or that someone lost the first aid kit (it was him).

“what’d you need it for?”

megumi huffs, gesturing vaguely to himself. he is a boy of many words.

satoru raises a brow. “do i need to call y/n?”

“no,” megumi’s arms are crossed, defensiveness a personality trait. “i just need some gauze.”

“for what, kid?”

“i lost something.”

satoru snorts, inspecting him. he doesn’t look all that different—he could use a hair cut but that’s nothing new. “your hand? an eyeball? elaborate.”

“i lost… my tooth.”

satoru blinks.

and then he leans himself on the arm rest, a smile making its way to his face. it’s a bit devious because satoru can’t remember the last time megumi had to concede to anything. or answered a single question, actually.

he’s so lucky you’re not home right now.

megumi is looking at him blankly, a slight pink to his cheeks—he absolutely hates it when satoru gives him that look. which satoru knows very well.

satoru gestures at the boy, tilting his head.

megumi sighs, looking towards the wall. and then, very reluctantly, he opens his mouth, leaning his head back so satoru can see.

the boy had already lost his front teeth before satoru ever got the chance to torment him about it, but he’ll take what he can get now.

there’s a little bit of blood coming from his mouth—which you would tell him is a tale tell sign that megumi has been messing with his teeth—but it doesn’t even look that bad.

satoru has seen plenty worse from cursed spirits, and besides, he doesn’t care.

“yup,” satoru makes a face, shaking his head mournfully. “looks rotten to me.”

megumi automatically snaps his mouth shut, eyes widening at him. “what?”

“where’s the tooth? i need to check it for disease.”

“what disease?”

“if you grind your teeth too much they start to deteriorate,” satoru says, tone overly condescending. “they can’t get infected. don’t you know that?”

megumi takes a step back, still crossing his arms. “i don’t grind my teeth.”

satoru laughs, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s hair—ignoring the push he gets when he does (he’s seven. why is he so strong?) “keep telling yourself that, kid.”

“i don’t.”

“your attitude problem is no secret, bud.”

“i’m not your bud.”

“you better go get that tooth,” he leans back on the couch, feigning indifference. “so we can mail it to your doctor.”

“that’s gross.”

“okay,” satoru shrugs. “if you want to die, it’s whatever. less work for me.”

“i’m not going to die,” megumi goes to stand in front of him, staring a hole into satoru’s head.

“we’ll see.”

“i’m not,” megumi kicks his foot, indignantly. “that’s not even how teeth work.”

“i think i would know how they work. you know, since im older than you?”

“and dumber.”

satoru only laughs—very entertained by the slight panic twinge to megumi’s voice—and doesn’t respond.

it works on megumi the same way it works on you—the silence absolutely must be filled.

satoru is a little gleeful, honestly. megumi very rarely falls victim to his tricks—or, at least, unintentionally victim.

“can you call a doctor now?” he asks, gruffly. “to get it checked?”

satoru glances at him, a tiny smile on his lips. “i thought you didn’t want to get it checked. i thought that wasn’t how teeth worked.”

“you just said that—“

and megumi is basically whining, foot stomping on the ground, anger something more like worry—but then the front door opens and he stops.

satoru throws his head back in a silent groan. of course you would show up just in time to ruin all of his fun.

“hey, megs,” you say as you walk into the living room, bag slung across your shoulder. “how was school? is tsumiki back yet?”

megumi goes up to you, frowning. “do i need to go to the doctor to get my teeth checked?”

you tilt your head, giving satoru a knowing glance. “did something happen?”

“our boy is turning into a man,” satoru says for both of them, standing up. “losing all of his teeth, greying hair. they grow up so fast.” a hand goes to his chest, and megumi pushes off the arm he tries to sling around the boys shoulder.

you give megumi a small smile, ignoring satoru. “did you lose a tooth?”

“gojo said that it’s infected. do we have to send it to the doctor?”

you frown, hard eyes meeting satoru’s. “why would it be infected, gojo?”

his hands immediately go up in defense. “hey, i’m just trying to teach the kid about the importance of dental hygiene—“

“he’s messing with you,” you tell megumi, patting his head. and then you look back up to satoru with a scowl. “and what would you know about dental hygiene?”

satoru crosses his arms. “i know all about—“

you shake your head, pushing past him. “does your mouth hurt?” you ask megumi. “is it still bleeding?”

“a little.”

“where’s the first aid kit?” you turn back to satoru, unamused.

he grins. “what’s that?”

you flick his forehead and turn away. “show me the tooth, huh? we’ll have to put it under your pillow so the tooth fairy comes tonight.”

you’re both walking away, heading towards the bathroom, and satoru hears megumi say, “i know that’s not real.”

“you know nothing,” you’re telling him, and satoru gasps as you both disappear.

“what do you mean ‘not real!?’” he calls, but no one is listening.

#gojo x reader #a typical family #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #jjk fanfic #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #jjk fluff #jjk x you

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aventoru · 5 months ago

Text

FOUR SEASONS

aventurine x stoneheart!reader

word count : 6.8K (what is happening to me???)

warning(s) : angst, hurt/comfort, a sprinkle of fluff, canon details may be inaccurate aka i make up some stuff, mentions of aventurine's past (murder, trauma, death of family members, etc.), brief mention of suicidal ideation (but he doesn't actually want to die), aventurine's nihilism/pessimism, less romantic than i thought it would be, more of a character exploration than anything, inconsistent writing/formatting, misunderstood aventurine, argenti cameo!!

a/n : at the bottom!

summer / the curse

“He’s supposed to go on trial? For what?” you asked Jade. “Murder,” she replied, lowering herself onto the velvet chair. “And you’re recruiting him?” you asked in disbelief. “He’s blessed by Gaiathra Triclops, it’ll make him a very valuable asset to us,” she explained. You couldn’t argue with that.

As if on cue, the wooden doors opened, and a young boy stepped in. Despite his small, frail figure, he radiated determination and confidence from across the room. “Welcome, Kakavasha,” Jade spoke as he strode to the podium where she sat, standing directly under the spotlight.

From the moment he entered, you were, to say the least, intrigued by his unique appearance. He had pale skin, and shaggy golden locks with even shaggier clothes. But what really caught your attention were his eyes. They were bright purple, with black irises outlined by a striking blue. He held a fierce gaze , as if he knew he would win before the game even started. There was no questioning why Jade wanted to recruit him. You tuned back into the conversation, just in time to hear Jade raise the question :

“Tell me, what are you prepared to wager?”

His answer struck something inside you.

“My life.”

His life? You were rather shocked by his bluntness. You had only ever seen people wager their money, assets, power, but never their life. It was the one thing that remained when they were stripped bare of everything. Apparently, that wasn’t the case for this kid.

It made sense, in a way. What else could he possibly have to give? And with luck on his side, the only ending Kakavasha had ever known was victory. What a tough, lucky kid, you thought as the meeting came to an end.

Your eyes traced Jade’s figure as she descended from her seat and led the new recruit to you. Seeing him up close and personal fueled your curiosity even more (god, those eyes really were something).

“(Name), let me introduce you to your new partner. This is Kakavasha,” she said. You stood unimpressed as Jade ushered a now (suddenly?) timid boy towards you*. He was so passionate just a few minutes ago, what is this lackluster attitude?* “You two are around the same age, so I’m sure you’ll get along,” Jade smiled, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same.

“(Name),” you stuck out a hand to him. The boy hesitated before speaking. “Kakavasha,” he whispered, barely audible. “Can you tell him to speak louder? I can’t hear,” you turned towards Jade. In truth, Aventurine didn’t see any point in speaking to you. He came here to talk business, not make friends. “Be courteous, he’s still new to all of this,” Jade chided. “We’re nearly adults now, he should at least speak for himself,” you argued, without missing a beat.

“I’m Aventurine,” the boy spoke again, louder this time. Jade observed your reaction closely as you two shook hands. “It seems you’re finally getting accustomed to each other,” she seemed satisfied by the brief interaction. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it,” she walked off, her expensive heels clacking against the marble floor.

To avoid the awkward silence that accompanied first meetings, you tried to make small talk afterwards. “I heard you’re blessed by the God of Luck. Must be how you got to work for us.”

He stayed silent at that.

Ever since that day, it has been cat and mouse between the two of you.

Day 2 : “Good morning, Jade,” you chirped as you sat down next to Kakavasha in the meeting room. Without so much as sparing a glance in your direction, you saw him move a seat away from you in your peripheral vision. “Hey, are you allergic to me or something?” you whipped your head to face him. “You’re the one who couldn’t be bothered to greet me,” he clapped back.

Day 57 : “Hey! Get back here asshole! You’re going to need me for the negotiation you know?!” you yelled hopelessly as Kakavasha ascended into the sky on the spaceship, leaving you behind at the port. Your frustration grew as he mouthed “I can’t hear you” through a small gap in the door before shutting it completely. Good partners my ass.

Day 409 : “So, what will you bet on this time?” the host asked. You were currently involved in a very intense game of poker with Numby, Dr. Ratio, and Jade. “All in,” you smiled mischievously as you dropped a black card onto the table. Your smile dropped as soon as you lost everything that round. A frantic Aventurine sprinted in soon after, announcing to everyone that all the money in his spare bank account was gone. You hurriedly slipped away before he caught on.

It had been over year working with Kakavasha, and nothing much has changed between the two of you. Well, except for the fact that you both were promoted and were now part of the 11 Stonehearts. He took the name Aventurine, and you, Citrine. But despite that, your love-hate relationship remained the same, and your judgement of his character didn’t waver much either. That was, until the fateful mission regarding Planet A.

‘A’ was a newly founded planet with a surprising amount of rare resources underneath its barren surface. As one would expect, the IPC immediately seized the chance to obtain it. However, numerous corporations were one step ahead, and the IPC could only assist in terms of mining, which resulted in this meeting.

Halfway through the conversation, Aventurine began pressuring for the IPC to obtain full control of the territory, not only of the resourcing sector, as they were clearly more capable of management. This unfortunately rubbed the other parties the wrong way, and to make matters worse, they had brought more backup than you thought. In this fight or flight situation, you and Aventurine were given the order to choose the latter, as the IPC would prefer not to make any more enemies.

As the two of you rushed towards your spaceship, the partner-turned-enemy at your heels, you were pulled back from behind and carelessly flung to the side. You fell down, hopelessly awaiting death’s embrace but before the darkness could swallow you, Aventurine stepped in and scooped you up in his arms, running like your lives depended on it.

You felt your feet touch stable ground once you two safely entered the spaceship and fled what was now considered enemy territory. Before you breathed out a sigh of relief and muttered a ‘thanks’ to Aventurine, you reached downwards to make sure your cornerstone was still tucked safely inside your pocket. But upon feeling nothing but empty fabric, you realized you had dropped it in the snowy terrain. You pursed your lips as the regret sank in. The thought of dying in the snow back there didn’t seem so bad.

You and Aventurine were soon ushered into the emergency clinic on board for a check up due to the rough encounter earlier. Fortunately, you both were fine, minus a few small wounds here and there. After those were swiftly tended to, the physician sent you both to your rooms for some rest. The walk back would’ve been silent if not for the friction of your shoes against the burgundy carpet, reminiscent of your first meeting. You were one step short of reaching your cabins when Aventurine suddenly spoke up.

“I didn’t want to see anyone else die because of me,” he stated. Despite his monotone, you could sense an underlying current of desperation in his voice. “It’s not your fault,” you replied, confused by him taking all the blame.

When you finally had the courage to look up at Aventurine, you were unable to face the intense emotions blazing in his irises and quickly turned away. That was the first time you realized it, the curse that had been placed upon him.

“I see,” you whispered.

The ride back to headquarters was eerily silent. You had lost your lifeline tying you to the IPC, and with this failed mission, your time at the organization was surely over. It was a shame that the moment you felt like you finally understood Aventurine, you had to say goodbye to him.

But his luck must have rubbed off on you because when you returned to your dorm after landing, you found your cornerstone on the table, glittering beautifully under the starlight. You breathed out a sigh of relief as a massive weight lifted off your shoulders.

I see you, Aventurine.

fall / the beginning of the end

Horror coursed through your veins as you observed Aventurine’s figure in the skies of Penacony. You watched as he delivered an onslaught of attacks onto the Astral Express Crew and that supposed Galaxy Ranger, Acheron. Before the plan was put into action, he had told you there would be great risks and advised you to stay out of it for the most part. But never in your life had you seen Aventurine take such a gamble. Although his life-long motto was ‘high stakes, high reward’, you knew this was something much more personal.

Under any other circumstance, you would’ve been thankful he was putting everything on the line to secure a valuable territory. After all, it was easier to dismiss his actions as performative and arrogant rather than admit them as self destruction. Yet you couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry spread across your chest as his poker chips rained down from the sky. The only words that rang in your head were the ones he had said to you that day.

I didn’t want to see anyone else die because of me.

You thought he was truly gone when Acheron unsheathed her sword and delivered a fatal blow to his body. Your entire being was filled with remorse and grief as the Emanator’s slash cut through the Dreamscape. In a blinding flash, Aventurine’s attacks disappeared, and him along with them.

At this point, you didn’t know what to think. How could this possibly happen? He was blessed by luck for goodness sake. You wracked your brain for an explanation, but the only conclusion you could come to was that wherever he was, you would never be able to see him again. It was later that night when guilt settled in next to you in that bathtub.

You drowned in self pity, fixating on how you were rendered useless in the face of danger despite being his companion. And what was worse, you had known of his conniving and reckless actions for years now, so why didn’t you stop him sooner? Were you that cowardly? Or was Aventurine over-reliant on his luck this time around? You couldn’t help but twist and turn in your dream, dwelling on these thoughts for a long time. If only you could see him again.

And then, you heard him calling out your name.

“Citrine, are you finally awake?” you heard his voice again, clearer this time. “Aventurine, is that you?” you whispered.

“No, it’s Veritas Ratio. Of course it’s me you idiot.” Since when did he crack jokes with you?

“Y-you’re alive?,” your eyes snapped open as Aventurine faded into view before you. “Or wait no—am I dead?!” you gasped in horror. Your perception of time had been skewed after laying down for what felt like an eternity.

“If you’re dead then I don’t have a gambling addiction,” he laughed forcefully. He just did it again. “Anyways, Penacony has been secured with minimal casualties. In these past system hours, it seems you’ve been trapped in a dream, which you’ve awoken from just now,” he answered.

“Oh, thank the Aeons,” you breathed out a sigh of relief, trying to process the situation.

“Guess I really did you a favor, huh? How about you cover all my paperwork for the month as a thank you?”

“See, you’re being annoying again,” you complained, playing along with his antics to hide your growing suspicions.

“I risked my life for you and that’s all you have to say to me?” he teased.

And again.

You thought Aventurine would be more serious in the aftermath, planning for the future of Penacony, or scheming like he always did. The last thing you expected was for him to joke around on the job. Out of all your colleagues, Aventurine was the most corporate-oriented person you knew, so what was this attitude? But you resisted the urge to narrow your eyes. The interrogation could wait. Currently, you had more important things to take care of.

“Yeah, I know you did,” you replied earnestly. “It’s just, I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help you on the mission. I can’t believe I didn’t stop you from carrying out that crazy plan—”

“You know I chose to sacrifice myself, right?”

“Yes, and I let you,” you pursed your lips. Aventurine raised an eyebrow in surprise. He had never seen you look so remorseful but he chose to ignore your apologies for the better.

“And then after that you—wait, what happened exactly? You disappeared, so how did you suddenly come back?”

“It’s a long story that doesn’t really matter. In the end, the mission was a success. You did great, Citrine,” he reassured, patting you on the shoulder. But I didn’t do anything?

“We should get going, HQ is calling for us.”

After the door clicked behind Aventurine, you hurriedly shoved all your items into your luggage. Well that was strange. Aventurine only acted aloof when he was lying. You were certain he was putting up a front to hide something from you. Something about him was different. Something was wrong.

There was only one thought lingering at the back of your mind.

Where was he all this time? And what happened?

“Be honest with me, what’s going on?” you asked once you two had stepped foot back onto the IPC. Despite reading over the detailed report he shared with the rest of the Stonehearts, you were still left with many unanswered questions. You knew he had purposely left out the more personal details of the mission. So here you were, hot on his heels as on the way back to his office.

“Acheron pulled me into Nihility’s void. Then, a knight by the name of Argenti came to my aid at the last minute, and we managed to escape. Simple as that,” Aventurine summarized, never once slowing down his pace.

“Are you, I don’t know, okay?” you pried further, barely managing to match his step.

“Hmm, I am,” he replied.

“You’re lying to me,” you stopped in your tracks just outside his office. Aventurine’s hand had already reached the doorknob, ready to turn it and ignore your efforts to try and understand him. Because if you really knew him, you would’ve known he hated confrontation, especially when it came to his emotions and intentions.

“Why would I?” he deflected.

“You don’t tease me so casually, you call our relationship “strictly business”, and you never joke around during missions. Yet all of a sudden you’re being friendly and nice? Don’t try to fool me. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were,” he muttered. You’ve had enough.

“Stop that, Kakavasha!” you exclaimed more loudly than you expected. A few employees walking by turned to face you in surprise.

“You have no right to call me that,” Aventurine finally turned to face you. He held his usual poker face showing no sign of weakness, his heart completely frozen over. But his eyes held the same fire that was lit when he saved you that day. Aventurine was pitying himself again. To make matters worse, he thought you were pitying him, too.

“Listen, I may not know the full story, but just know that whatever happened isn’t your fault. In fact, it was my—”

“Why are you doing this?”

A sudden sadness washed over you.

“Because we’re friends.”

The only thing you managed to catch before Aventurine slammed the door to his office shut was the unreadable expression in his eyes. The fire had been extinguished, but the embers still remained.

Aventurine leaned against the doorframe and heaved a sigh of relief once he’d heard your footsteps fade down the hallway. His shoulders sagged as he sat down in his office chair. You had no reason to pry about the events at Penacony, really. It was far beyond what he was capable of sharing to others.

Aventurine closed his eyes, and for a split second, recalled the moment he came face to face with his past.

“Farewell Kakavasha,” Aventurine handed his younger self the dark hat, which the kid accepted with kind eyes. He waved goodbye as he walked off into the distant, not daring to turn around. For if he did, he was certain he would want to stay here. Forever.

His time at the IPC had left him colorless and barren. The corporate system he once trusted picked at his vulnerabilities and tore him apart, creating an emotionless robot out of the innocent child he once was. It hacked at his flesh, leaving him with even more unfaded scars than before. Gambling was no longer the one luxury that made him special. Now, it was his only lifeline, the one thing that could ensure his survival in this cruel world. He felt like he had reverted into a hopeless little boy again. Like he was Kakavasha.

Aventurine was awoken from his river of thought when a figure came crashing through the darkness, landing right next to Aventurine. “Hello, stranger. I have come here to save you as I see you have been trapped in this…realm,” the redhead paused briefly to take a look around. “I am Argenti, a Knight of Beauty. We must hurry, for something bad is happening in Penacony!” That must mean Sunday has made his move.

Before Aventurine could respond, he felt himself being hoisted into the strange man’s arms and carried off. “Where are we going?” Aventurine asked. This was, to say, the least weird thing that had happened to him since arriving at Penacony. He had never encountered this knight before, but from the name and appearance, he vaguely remembered looking over the Knights of Beauty and recalled the man being associated with the Galaxy Ranger Boothill.

“To safety!” was the vague response he received.

Safety, hm? Aventurine was left to ponder again.

Why did he have to struggle against his own destiny? What was his purpose in life? Would anything he do make him worthy of seeing his family again? He knew he had to move forward, for his family were, undoubtedly dead, but some things were easier said than done.

Aventurine started to lose himself. His mind was racing a million miles a minute. He was sure of nothing and doubtful of everything. The only place that gave him room to breathe was here. Perhaps he really should turn back and—

“Kakavasha, where are you going?” a familiar voice called out. Aventurine turned around, trying to find the origin of the voice. “Sister, what are you doing here?” he asked in surprise when he saw his sister standing in the snow, a lamp in her hand.

“What do you mean? I’m heading home with you, of course?” she cocked her head to the side. “Heading…home?” he asked again. “Kakavasha, do you not want to attend the celebration? In the end, it was thanks to your luck that we managed to defeat the Katicans and survive.”

“We survived? Does that mean that mom and dad are at the celebration, too?”

“Yes, of course! And, I’m sure they wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world,” his sister smiled before stepping forward and grabbing his hand, “Now let’s go home.” She tried pulling him along, but the little boy planted his feet into the snow, refusing to budge. “Kakavasha, is something the matter?” she turned around, confused at his stubborness.

“Did my luck really save us all?” he inquired.

“Of course. We’re still here together, aren’t we?”

“I just…I recently had a nightmare that I was the only one who was lucky enough to survive. And you all died, leaving me alone. I thought it was all my fault,” he started to cry.

“No, Kakavasha,” she set down the lamp, crouching down to give him a hug. “None of that would be your fault,” his sister pulled away to wipe the tears on his face. “It’s just a nightmare, okay? I’m sure your luck will continue to bless us so that we can stay together for a long, long time. Think about it. Your blessing will grant your wish to become successful, and our family will be happy, and everything will be good,” she reassured. Kakavasha felt his earlier torment settle and slowly disappear. Turns out, it was just a bad dream.

His sister held the lamp, illuminating both their faces in the dark, and he could see her expression was filled with hope. The siblings smiled at each other as a small warmth enveloped them in the cold winter night that settled upon what was once a battlefield. Kakavasha could feel it in his soul. This was where he belonged. He was home. “Kakavasha,” his sister whispered tenderly, “Never stop dreaming, okay?”

And suddenly.

“Dreaming.” He studied his sister’s face.

Why am I seeing (name)’s face?

The lamp.

“Dreaming.” She had morphed into you.

Why does it have to be (name)?

It started to look weird.

“-dreaming! You’re dreaming! Please wake up!” Aventurine’s eyes snapped open as he abruptly sat up in the bathtub. So that was just the Dreamscape. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, collecting himself from the series of events that have recently transpired. After opening them again, Aventurine came face to face with a frantic figure standing in front of him, the Knight who was in his dreams now appeared in real life.

“Oh, thank Idrila you’re awake. It seems Mr. Sunday is trying to use the power of the Dreamscape and those trapped in it to awaken the Order,” Argenti explained the situation.

“Ah, I had a sense the situation would turn out that way,” Aventurine nodded, unsurprised. Technically speaking, he had taken part in the ordeal this entire time.

“Come, we must find a way out of here. How lucky we are to be awake, or else we would have been trapped inside our dreams forever,” Argenti helped Aventurine stand up, pulling him out of the bathtub.

“Yes,” Aventurine briefly glanced over at the dark hat resting on the bedside table,

“How lucky indeed.”

3 days later

After the mission at Penacony, an awkward tension settled between the two of you. Here you were, sitting at an executive meeting on the redevelopment of Penacony, trying your best to avoid any interaction with Aventurine. Despite having your eyes glued to the wooden table in front of you, you could still feel him staring holes to the back of your head.

As soon as the meeting ended, you hurriedly stood up from your seat and brushed passed the other executives, exiting the room as quickly and quietly as possible. As soon as you stepped outside, the stuffy atmosphere dispersed and you headed to the bathroom to freshen up. You stalled, hoping that by the time you stepped out again, everyone would have filed out, including Aventurine.

Your hasty strategy seemed to have worked because by the time you finished, the meeting room was empty and the hallway was quiet. You breathed out a sigh of relief, and upon checking your watch, you realized it was time for lunch. You were scanning your head through all the possible meal options, lost in a daydream when suddenly —

“(Name),” a familiar voice entered your ears.

You flinched, not expecting there to be anyone remaining. But you knew that voice. That cheeky, lighthearted tone could only come from —

“Aventurine,” you turned to your left, “What are you doing here?”

You tried to remain as cheerful as possible, putting on a smile that was genuine but still reserved. After all, you two were, in his words, strictly business.

“I was waiting for you,” he stated. You cocked your head to the side, intrigued by the straightforwardness and the look in your eyes urged him to finish. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” he continued. You pondered for a second. The meeting had just ended so that must mean…

“Ah, you must mean the redevelopment plan for Penacony! I’ve been so busy these days I’ve only managed to draft it. I’ll try to review and email it to you by tonight,” you reassured him. Upon his silence, you assumed your talk was done and continued, “Well, I’ve got to get lunch now, so I’ll be off.”

But before you could brush past him, Aventurine caught your wrist, pulling you back. “Let’s get lunch together,” he said. Now this was surprising. You slowly turned your head, completely caught off guard by the sudden predicament. “What? Why?” you questioned.

“I just…” Aventurine looked away for a second before his eyes drifted back to you. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Since when? We’re colleagues, yes, but not friends,” you clarified.

“You said we were friends.”

“And you said we were strictly business.”

“Well, I’ve thought it over. And now I’ve changed my mind.”

“Aventurine,” you sighed in exasperation, “After our conversation last time, you’ve clearly established that we’re colleagues. I’m sorry I overstepped my boundaries and won’t be doing so again. So could you please, just let it go and stop bringing things up?”

“But I thought you wanted to be my friend. You do, don’t you?” he asked, testing the waters.

“You’re acting strange. Have you been scheming something again?” you asked skeptically.

“No, I—,” he sighed, seemingly frustrated at himself. “Listen, when you asked me about Penacony, I thought you were doing it out of pity. I thought you were looking down on me and my incompetency despite being blessed by this so-called luck.”

“Did you really think I would stoop that low after everything that you did?” you asked in disbelief, “Just what kind of person do you think I am?”

“I just couldn’t believe someone would genuinely care for me,” Aventurine admitted. He knew he was projecting. That he expected others to hate him like he hated himself. He had spiraled so far down a rabbit hole of self-deprecation he found your genuinity a surprise.

You almost failed to decipher his true feelings from his monotone voice and usual poker face. But his eyes told a different story. They were regretful. He was somber.

“Don’t you dare think that again,” you hesitated, “I care about you, okay?”

“I know,” he nodded.

“Good, now let’s go get some lunch, I’m starving.”

“I’ve…finally let go of my past,” Aventurine said. You looked up from your cheesecake in surprise. You two were sitting at a local cafe after another mission, debriefing all the events that had happened. You had attended an important gala the night before, meeting other entrepreneurs and successfully sealing deals thanks to his luck and your charm. Aventurine claimed it was because you looked stunning in your formal outfit that made everyone entranced, but you begged to differ.

“What do you mean..?” you trailed off, confused at his ambiguous words.

“On Penacony, I mean,” he clarified.

“Oh, I see,” you tiptoed around the subject, afraid you would accidentally dig too deep into his fresh wound. Seeing as he stopped there, you continued.

“Well, as long as you’re happy, that’s what matters,” you said, taking a sip from your drink.

“Hey, don’t be nervous. I’m fine now,” he reassured you, “I realized I had to move on, to use my luck and achieve greater things until I am deserving to face my family again when the time comes.”

You nodded in agreement, but upon observing his expression opposite from you, you realized he wasn’t content like you had expected him too. In fact, he looked troubled.

“Are you, happy?” you questioned further.

“I guess,” he mumbled with a shrug. The usually confident look in his eyes wavered. He wasn’t too sure about anything anymore. Aventurine’s mind was preoccupied. Was his destiny ever truly his? Or was this another one of luck's plans? Why was he still doing something he had no passion for? What was the point of it all?

After a moment of silence, he spoke up.

“Do you really care about me?” he responds to your question with his own. You were taken by surprise, but that expression soon morphed into one of content. Your reached across the table, your hand barely brushing against his in an act of comfort.

“More than you know.”

winter / the escape

Months passed, and you completed one mission after another, oftentimes with Aventurine. After the successful mission in Penacony, Diamond saw the potential in your teamwork and assigned joint missions between the both of you more and more. You both completed them all with ease, but something felt off.

Aventurine had stopped scheming. His plans weren’t as meticulous as before, his words not as slither-tongued, his gambles not as daring. It was as if he had reached a slump; his motivation to work was lost and he was burnt out. But you knew better than that. He wasn’t just lost. Aventurine was spiraling.

You saw it in the way his smiles don’t quite reach his eyes. You heard it in his high-pitched laughs, a telltale sign of his facade. You felt it in his touch as cold as his poker chips. Your mind often drifted back to the question you asked him at the cafe. The contemplation in his face back then gave him away, but you chose not to comment on it until now.

You had scheduled a business meeting with him tonight, but it had been half an hour and your coworker was still nowhere to be found. You were starting to get worried. Despite his aloof personality, Aventurine was always punctual. But not today.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door to Aventurine’s office. The atmosphere was pitch black, but you could still make out his figure on the couch from the starlight streaming through his windows. Aventurine had a glass of wine in one hand, his broken Stoneheart in the other; it had yet to be repaired, but by the look on his face, it didn’t seem like he wanted it to be. Upon closer observation, you noticed an empty wine bottle on his coffee table. Your coworker wasn’t just drinking, he was drunk.

The blonde, contrary to the concerned look on your face, couldn’t help but chuckle dryly to himself upon seeing your arrival. Aventurine had gambled that you wouldn’t come looking for him after his disappearance. And for the first time in his life, he had lost. But upon seeing the concerned look on your face, it was also the first time he was glad to lose.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked, turning on a dim light to better see him. “Nooo turn it offff, it’s too bright!” Aventurine complained, raising his arm to cover his eyes. He was in a worse state that you previously thought. With his cheeks flushed and eyes dazed, you were sure the man was one sip away from blacking out.

You quickly sat down next to him and removed the wine glass from his hand. “Nothing’s wrong, (name), give it back,” he slurred, trying to reach for the cure to his pain. “Aventurine, you’ve drank more than enough tonight,” your sternly replied, “Now tell me what happened.”

“I’ve recently realized…that my life has become meaningless,” Aventurine hiccuped. “Is that why you’ve been slacking off at work?” you asked. “Not just that. I’ve also given up,” he turned to face you. “Hey, is this about Penacony?” you inquired. You were met with silence on his end. “Hmm, I thought so. You know I would be more than willing to listen to your troubles, right?”

“I just don’t get it,” Aventurine stated, his eyes trained on the glowing Stoneheart in his lap. “Why does my blessing feel like a curse? Is this really what I’m meant to do? Survive alone and leave my family behind? Would this make me deserving to face them again?”

Aventurine was in deep thought, the inner turmoil and conflict apparent on his face. “Well, I’m sure that above anything, your family would want you to be happy,” you repeated the same words you had said to him. You had nothing else to give in this situation. No grand philosophy, no wise words, no unsolicited life advice. Just the truth.

“It feels like an obligation to gamble. I have to keep winning,” Aventurine pursed his lips and raised his head. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over the edge. This was the closest to crying you had ever seen him.

“I’m not Kakavasha, I’m not Aventurine. I’m the boy blessed by Gaiathra Triclops. The only valuable thing I have is that gift, which feels more like a curse, and that’s all I’ll ever be,” his voice broke as the tears silently succumbed to gravity. One by one they fell, salt streaming down his face. The light reflected off the trail they left behind, creating a broken image on his porcelain skin, reflected by the broken Stoneheart in his hand.

“Hey, you know that’s not true. I see you for much more than your luck,” you reassured him.

“If I disappeared tomorrow, would you remember me? Would you take this broken rock and smash it to pieces and scatter them over my grave? So that everyone would stay away? Would you be the only one to visit me, even when the shards of glass could hurt you?”

“I’m not letting you go. I care about you too much for that,” you pulled him into your embrace, “And I know you don’t want to die. You just want to leave this haunted place.”

“And how would you know that?” he looked at you, almost scornfully.

“Because I know you.”

“How can you be so sure? I’m just this empty shell without a path in life. I have no ambitions, no purpose. I’m just…this.” A silence passed by as he fiddled with the stone once more. “I don’t even know who I am,” he whispered, broken.

And then, Aventurine felt your lips on his.

“What was that for?” he blinked in surprise.

“I-,” you quickly pulled away, “I-I’m so sorry, I just wanted to distract you so you could calm down but I didn’t even think it through properly—”

“So it wasn’t because you love me?”

“It’s not that I don’t love you, I just—” you quickly clarified, only to realize what you’d just said and raised your hands in protest. It really wasn’t the right time nor place for such romantic endeavors, but you realized your efforts weren’t in vain when a small smile appeared on Aventurine’s face.

“Hmmm, then maybe you should distract me some more. I wouldn’t mind.”

“T-that’s,” you hesitated. He gave you a look, like he was challenging.

So you kissed him again. And he kissed you back.

“You were right, (name). I do want to leave this damned place,” his eyes were closed as he laced your fingers together.

“I know,” you offer him a small smile, almost proud of yourself for finally being able to decode him after years of knowing each other.

“I think you know me better than I know myself.” This time, he gave your intertwined hands a squeeze (and you squeezed right back).

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Together,” you emphasized, pressing your forehead against his.

He fell asleep in your arms that night, and you stayed.

Aventurine was awoken by the annoying familiar ringtone of his alarm. White Night rang through the still air, and despite it being set on medium volume, it still felt like someone was transmitting the sound through a megaphone right by his ear. Aventurine woke up like this every morning, grumpy and tired with thoughts of the day’s agenda running through his mind nonstop. But before he could reach for his phone and turn off the sound of his nightmares, someone had already beat him to it.

Aventurine’s hands brushed against yours as he groggily opened his eyes. “Name?” he whispered, voice still raspy from sleep (and crying). You were already sitting up, your head resting against the headboard. “Go back to sleep, it’s still pretty early,” you tried getting him to lay back down only for him to sit next to you.

Was it still early? His perception of time was rather inaccurate. There was no such thing as romantic morning sunlight streaming through the window when you’re on a spaceship. But why would he need that when he’s got you?

Aventurine took you by surprise when he leaned in and gave you a slight peck. He pulled away before you could react, eyes darting from your lips to make eye contact with you. “Morning,” he mumbled, pulling away with a smirk before you could react. He held your hand, thumb gently stroking your skin.

“Aventurine,” you started, looking down at your intertwined hands.

“Kakavasha,” he intercepted, “Call me Kakavasha.”

“Kakavasha, what are we?”

“After that stunt you pulled yesterday you’re seriously asking me this?”, Aventurine asked, a judging undertone was clear in his voice. “Should I buy you a planet to make it clear that you’re mine now?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know about a planet, but a proper date sure seems nice,” you teased.

“Consider it done,” he laughed.

You two basked in each other’s morning presence for some time before you speak up again.

“Do you still want to escape?”

“Yes, I do,” Aventurine faced you, a newly found glint of hope in his eyes.

This time, he was smiling.

spring / the lucky charm

“Are you sure about this?” Jade asked, seated at her desk. Your letters of resignation were in her hands as she examined them carefully, almost in a scrutinizing manner.

It had been a few months since that conversation with Aventurine and you two had silently agreed on leaving the IPC for good.

So, after a careful process of tying up some loose ends, you both officially hand in your resignation letters ten minutes ago. Your main reasons? Aventurine had paid off all his debts, so there was no reason for him to stay tied down anymore. When all is said and done, his luck had done more than enough for the organization. On the other hand, you were, for a lack of better terms, getting tired of this place anyway.

The verdict of Jade’s careful deliberation was in. She smiled in acceptance and said, “It seems that you both have moved on to a new chapter of your lives, and I believe it is for the better.” You breathed a sigh of relief before glancing over at your lover. “Yes, I believe our deal is done,” a look of reminiscence coated his eyes as he responded.

Jade was like a mother figure to him, the person who had saved him from the attack on his homeland, the one who had given him a choice. But this corporate asylum had also morphed into a monster. The only thing that managed to keep him afloat was his luck, which had also run dry over the years. The desolate, inhospitable land had used him for all he was worth, stripped him of his joys, his ambitions, his purpose.

The only one who could treasure what was left of him was you.

The Xianzhou Alliance was peaceful. Well, as peaceful as it could be after everything that transpired. But you supposed it was good enough to harbor the two of you for the time being.

The streets were lively and the market was always bustling with activities. Things were definitely different from what you were used to. No longer were the corporate meetings and forced smiles, or those lengthy contracts that took away half your lifespan. It was just you and Aventurine. It was nice.

You admired your intertwined hands, swinging back and forth happily as you two strolled along. The sky shone brightly that morning, illuminating the golden locks on Kakavasha’s head, almost giving him a glowing effect. That seemed to happen a lot these days.

The lively atmosphere, the warmth, your warmth had nursed him back to life. His eyes lit up when he smiled, his lips lifted more often, and his heart seemed to beat just a little bit faster when you rested your head against his chest.

At last, he had found his way back. With you by his side, of course.

Kakavasha,” you called out as light as a feather.

“Hmm?” he turned to you, nearly missing your voice over the chaos and chatter.

“I love you.”

Kakavasha smiled as he grasped your hand even tighter, the matching bands on your fingers glinting underneath the sun’s rays.

At that moment, Kakavasha truly believed that luck was on his side after all.

a/n : (1) i named reader citrine bc according to google it has good synergy with aventurine, (2) i read through this so many times i physically can't anymore so it's kind of badly edited, it's been sitting in my drafts for a YEAR and im TIRED, (3) honestly kind of surprised i managed to complete such a long oneshot but here we are, so enjoy!! (4) original outline based on a vnmese song about loving someone for 4 seasons but things took a turn

tags : @popponn (i told u abt the wip last MONTH and it's finally finished!!!)

masterlist

#aventurine x y/n #hsr aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x you #hsr fanfic #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff

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toxicrelief · 4 months ago

Text

Crawling Back to You

Chapter five

Synopsis: You can admit you are not very good at hand-to-hand combat. It has not really been something you needed to be good at until now. However, the worse you appear, the more suspicious your long “training” sessions with Cecil are starting to seem. And with each failure, Rex is getting more and more smug.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Chapter: 5/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: Blood, Descriptions of Violence

Note: If you ever see me hating on the "pinned to the ground" troupe, kill me. That's not me. Also shoutout to the several youtube videos I had to watch on how to fight. you guys are life savers.

“I knew I was good, but I didn’t realize I was quite this good.”

Rex was completely destroying you, last you checked this was a “training session”, not a fighting tournament. He obviously did not have that same memo though. As you looked over at him, he was shifting his weight back and forth from leg to leg, his fists clenched in front of him. There is no way this is actually boosting his ego more. The cocky grin on his face told you it definitely was. You cursed Cecil in your head, putting you directly in a metaphorical arena with someone who has enhanced strength and durability. As far as you know you do not have either of those to the extent most people with powers did. And just because your body can heal the bruise forming on your ribs extremely quickly, does not mean you cannot feel it.

When you had walked in earlier you were met with complete silence. Rex was sitting, no, he was lounging, in the training room. Waiting. Cecil must have told him the plan for today, which you were secretly grateful for. You could feel the tantrum that would have come if you had walked up to him and said “Hey! I know you hate my guts, but that old guy with the receding hairline-? What am I saying? That hairline is no longer receding, it’s receded. Yeah, you know the one, he wants us to train together. What was that? You think I don’t deserve to be here? What was that? You think I am making a fool of myself? What was that? Die, die, die? Well, I hear you, Rex! And guess what, I agree full-heartedly! Thank you for blessing me with a fragment of your precious, and I mean precious, time!”

Ugh.

Instead, you had given him a polite smile, opened your mouth to speak, and were immediately interrupted with: “Yeah-Yeah I know, let’s get started.” Which is the most amicable interaction you have ever shared up to this point.

He was wearing a grey tank top, and his hair was pulled back loosely. As much as you disliked him, you had eyes. He was surprisingly toned without the suit on, it almost made you feel self-conscious. But then it made you feel a little panicked. You have supposedly been “training” with Cecil the past few months, or did they not know that? They did not have your records the way you had theirs. So maybe you could get away with saying that you had not been training for as long, and that’s why…you were completely and utterly inexperienced? All of a sudden it was starting to feel like Cecil jumped the gun in introducing you to the Guardians. If you were able to use your other abilities you could completely freeze Rex in place, but then what? You had no idea what you would do that could truly give you the upper hand. Although after keeping him in place for a while, you would eventually heel over and become a personal blood sprinkler.

But you can’t use your other abilities, to these people you were just a healer. And Cecil had reiterated to you last night that you cannot let them even get an inkling that you can do more. So here you are, holding your ribs with one hand, and sweat dripping down your brow.

“You know, I am not sure how effective this is if you’re landing every punch as hard as you can.” You winced standing up straighter.

“I’m not hitting you as hard as I can.”

You glared at him, taking a breath so that you did not immediately snap back. Be the bigger person and all that, nonsense. “Well, how about just not hitting me at all while you’re still showing me the basics. I feel like that should be implied actually.”

“The basics?” He put his hands down. “Do you not know anything about hand-to-hand combat?”

A very telling silence fell between them. You almost wished he would make fun of you, instead he just stared at you.

“Shit, so you really are just a healer huh?”

Basically yeah. “I mean, loose on the ‘just’ okay buddy.”

“So, I’m your babysitter for the day.” There it is, the familiar snark.

“Well usually babysitters are paid, so not even that.” You gave him an almost apologetic look to try and cover your sarcasm. You straightened all the way up, your ribs fully healed from his earlier hit.

“Goddamn it.” Rex ran a hand over the back of his neck looking at the ground in thought. “No chance I can just go fuck off and we tell Cecil we trained anyways is there?”

“Don’t think so, no.”

“Right… yeah no I figured.” The look of sheer disappointment on his face was a very telling sign he in fact, did not figure.

You put your hands on your hips now at a loss for how to progress this forward.

“Basics then?” A hand ran over his face in surprisingly quiet frustration.

“Basics.” You echoed.

Rex stepped forward then hesitated, “Wait, if I teach you any of this will it even do you any good? Or would you get immediately torn apart or some shit?” Strong vote of confidence. But he had a point. If you were up against the likes of people like the Mauler Twins, were you expected to try hand-to-hand combat? There was no way you would win, even with support. And if the likes of which you were up against did not have human blood there was no controlling them either. At least for now, you still were getting nowhere with the Viltrumite blood and that was only one species.

“Uh, I’m not sure.” You said honestly, straightening up a bit. “At least then I will be dead, and you don’t have to worry about it I suppose.”

“Hey, I wasn’t worried about you I was worried about my own wasted time.”

“Glad for the clarification.”

Rex finally fully made his way over to you, standing at your side. He was quiet for a bit, seemingly in thought about what to start with. Which you had a hard time believing he could deeply think about anything.

“So- uh… I guess always be aware of your surroundings, you can get backed into corners quickly in combat-” There was a much more awkward tension in the room now as he obviously recited what could have been textbook self-defense 101.

“Let’s assume I know that much, how about some actual techniques.”

“God, nothing makes you happy, does it?” You raise your hands at his outburst, trying not to laugh. “Are you left or right-handed?”

“I don’t see how this is-”

“Left or right.” He cut in, gritting his teeth. After telling him, he gestured for you to have the corresponding foot forward. You bit the inside of your lip in irritation but followed.

“Your stance is important, if you don’t do it right-”

“I’ll be unbalanced.”

“You’ll look like a dumbass.” His lip twinged slightly, and he moved behind you. Using his foot, he pushed your feet apart for a wider stance. A little close for your liking. “Your feet should be a little wider than shoulder-length apart, shift your weight to your toes. You’ll be able to move faster.”

You do as he says, testing your weight from side to side with a slight bounce.

“Stop fucking moving.”

“Sorry-”

“You have to hold your arms up like this.” Before you knew it, he was positioning your arms. His fingertips felt oddly warm on your skin. If he wanted to, could he make your entire body explode from this contact? That’s one way to die. You bit back any argument and let him pose you to his liking. You clenched your fists loosely (after he got on you about using up spare energy for nothing, but he did not seem to have a problem with using up spare energy to yell at you, so who really needed training).

“Hold your elbows in, you have to protect your sides, vital organs… blah blah” He quickly slipped back into his indifferent attitude but for a second he seemed to be enjoying this. Maybe it felt good for him to impose his superior knowledge on others, you can’t imagine it happens often. “Anyways, basically this is how I was able to get you earlier.” You subconsciously rubbed your side, and he hesitated for a split second.

“Okay, keep your shoulders somewhat up.” He stepped out from behind you and quickly took his place in front of you. “Hit me.”

“What?”

He sighed, dramatically throwing his head back, “I didn’t say it that quietly, hit me.”

You hesitated, not because you thought you might hurt him, but because you knew he was doing this so you would make a fool of yourself. “Why don’t you just quickly show me-”

“Goddamn it, HIT ME!”

Your dominant hand came crashing into his nose surprisingly hard. So hard you wondered for a moment if you just broke your knuckles. Losing your form, you immediately stepped back, holding your hand in your secondary hand. The pain of your body immediately trying to heal it striking through you. “Fuck!”

“FUCK!” Rex echoed, holding his hand to his nose and tilting his head back. “Why did you go for the face first you dick!”

“You told me to punch you!” God your hand hurt.

“I said to hit me not fucking punch me in the face!”

“Well, I’m sorry! Your face is just too irresistible for me to miss the opportunity!” You hissed back, feeling your middle finger pop back into place. After a few seconds more, the pain subsided, and you stood straight up again, turning to face him.

Rex was glaring at you, blood trickling from his nose down his face. If you were feeling nicer you might have offered to heal it for him, but his dark look was not making you feel generous.

“Back to it then?” You gave a fake smile and returned to your earlier position. He ran his tongue over his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment before sniffling and also returning to his position.

You went to hit him on his chest, and he quickly deflected you, a little harsher than necessary. What a baby.

“Again.” He spat.

You went again, and he deflected it just as easily. “Why weren’t you this good at blocking when I hit you earlier?”

“Shut up. Again.”

You used your non-dominant hand to try faking Rex out, which worked. He went to block it, and you nailed him in the side. Not as hard as before, not that it would matter, since he can definitely take a punch much better with his torso than his face. Rex simply nodded, returning his eyes to your stance.

“You should twist your leg with the punch, it adds much more force.” He walked to your side, his hands brushing over your thigh to your calf. His touch was surprisingly gentle for how bad this entire interaction seemed to be going. After twisting your leg, he stood up straight and gave you a demonstration.

“You have to twist it as you punch, use the brute of your force from your back.”

“Okay.” His nose was still bleeding and now you were starting to feel bad. He was still training you even after you did that to him. It was almost sweet. Or he was just too full of himself to be the first to give in, either could be true. Most likely the latter.

“And I want you to try this after you land that hit.” He demonstrates another move, his arm making a hook-like motion in front of him. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You steadied up your stance again, bouncing back and forth on your toes. He returned in front of you and posed himself. He did not say anything this time. No ‘hit me’, no annoyance at your moving, he just watched and waited. His eyes trailing over you. He must be checking your stance.

You repeated your fake-out move from earlier, then went to hit him with the new move he showed you.

“Keep your arm closer to your body, or you’ll dislocate your elbow.”

You nodded, not having the concentration to come up with a quip to throw at him. You repeated the move again but with a second fake-out. Rex winced slightly as your fist made contact with his elbow. Ideally, this move would probably work better if you were aiming for his face.

“That was fuckin’ good!” He exclaimed with a smile, genuine excitement generating off of him. You did not know he was capable of smiling in a way that did not reflect cynicism and sarcasm. It was almost alarming.

“Thanks?”

“Do that again.” He returns to position, and you follow suit.

After several more demonstrations and Rex purposely tripping you to ‘show you that your stance was bad’, you were both working up quite the sweat. And worse you were starting to become aware of his blood. You could feel it beneath his skin with every punch. This was not something you usually experienced, but from all the excretion and fighting it was starting to feel like you were actually needing to win.

Rex was talking about something now, but you were struggling to pay attention, your body willing you to get back into formation.

“With your size, a tackle could be good to know. You’ve got some dick who’s towering over you-”

“Some dick meaning you?”

He ignored you and continued. “You have to be able to bring them down to your level if you are able.”

He stops for a moment to fix his hair, stray pieces had been slowly falling out throughout the session and limiting his visibility. Your eyes trailed down to his face, the blood had dried now, and you were tempted to get him a wet cloth or something. But your body was still screaming at you to fight. So, you stayed put.

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye as he finished putting his hair back up and you found yourself looking forward to where he usually stood. Now you were overthinking it, did you look away too fast? Was he thinking you were weird for staring at him? Weird for looking away outside of the set time for it not to be weird? God, can he please just stand in front of you so you can punch him? You really needed to punch something.

Which felt a little redundant since that was all you had been doing for what must have been nothing short of ages.

Finally, he was back in front of you, and you immediately took a swing.

“Woah, the fuck are you doing?” He gave you a quizzical look, after taking a step back from your attempted hit.

“Practicing.”

“Were you not just listening? I want you to try out tackling.”

“Oh, okay.” You lowered your hands feeling a bit embarrassed. You wiped the sweat off of your brow with the back of your hand, then tunneled your focus on Rex.

He gave you an odd look but continued forward with his demonstration.

“Okay, you have to stand tall up until one of the last moments, or they’ll know what you’re trying to do, and the whole maneuver will be spoiled.” He stood up straight, stretching his back, preparing himself for the inevitable. “I’m going to come at you, you have to go for my knees and try to take me down.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You sure you got that?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” That came out a lot harsher than you meant it to, you just really needed to hit something.

He furrowed his brow at you but did not say anything. Almost immediately he headed towards you. You jumped back, somehow a little startled even though he just told you what was going to happen. You missed your window; he was going in for punches now. Trying to deflect the best you could, you got yourself into position to tackle him.

Rex’s fist collided with your shoulder and knocked you off balance. “Fuck!” Without leaving any time to waste you were back on your feet. Sweat was dripping down your brow. And Rex was looking very concentrated. You went in to hit him, he deflected, you went to tackle, he hit. This was not even training anymore; he was trying to wear you out.

Your lip curled slightly with frustration. And you finally took a deep breath, focusing your thoughts. Rex leaned in the way he was going to hit, even with cop-outs. You had started to notice the pattern, if you used it against him, you could break his balance.

He leaned slightly to the left, swung left, left, left, right, right.

You swung left, hitting his ribs. He grimaced, taking a step back. And then you sprung forward, grabbing his legs and pushing him down,

You were both panting.

His face was flushed, and from how hot it was you were sure yours was too. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes you were not able to be read. You could feel his chest heaving underneath you. As much as he was trying to wear you out, he must have been wearing himself out too.

“I got you.” You said between breaths, what you needed more than anything right now was some water. Have you ever realized Rex had green eyes? You did not see green eyes much anymore.

He did not immediately respond, the rise and fall of his chest still apparent to you. He was very firm; he probably had a lot of muscle from years of being a professional hero. Your hands were digging into his shoulders. You could feel him tense slightly under you, feel the shift in his blood.

For a millisecond his eyes slid down your face, and you wondered…

“You’re not meant to stay on top of the person once you’ve taken them down.” His voice rang out dryly. His eyes met yours with half-lidded mild annoyance.

“Ugh. Nothing’s good enough.”

“Plenty is good enough. Just do shit right.”

You got off him, offering him a hand up which he briskly refused. He stood for a moment with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He walked over to the corner of the room and grabbed something; it looked like a belt.

“One more go.”

“Seriously?” You almost whined, you needed a break badly.

“Yes, fucking seriously.” You missed that one moment of actual happiness he portrayed earlier, wondering if you would see that ever again.

“Fine.” For hopefully a final time for the day, you fell into place. Rex immediately went back into action; this time he was keeping his distance. Every time you caught up with him, he quickly got away. “Dude, what is this?” You said unimpressed, and then you saw it fly out of his hand. He was throwing small discs at you. There was no way-

Before you could even finish the thought, it ignited in a small explosion, sending you back.

“Rex, what the fuck are you doing!”

“This is actual combat training Nurse Joy. Catch up.” You grit your teeth, you had already learned a lot for one day, did you really need to have mini-explosives thrown at you too? You did your best to avoid them, a few singed your shirt, and you could definitely smell burnt hair. How many of those did he have? Should you wait him out?

Each explosion left a little cloud of smoke. You just needed to get close enough that it would affect his sight. Slowly you made your way closer, still trying not to get hit. Even with the smoke in front of you, you knew exactly where he was. You already had that neural connection.

After bidding your time on the last one you finally jumped forward through the smoke. His arms immediately came up to shield his face, but you weren’t going for his face. Your fist made direct contact with the left side of his chest. A mild headache immediately irrupts in your head. He should have let you at least have a water break, before pulling all of this.

With a groan, suddenly Rex was backing away, a confused, and angry look on his face. One of his hands was over the place where you punched. You almost wanted to call him a wimp, say something mean, and then you saw the bruise. It was reaching above his tank top.

Fuck. You had manipulated his blood. Not to heal.

You had made it burst in his blood vessels. That’s why your head started to hurt.

You blinked, trying to regulate your breathing at what you had done as you watched him pull his shirt up. Your hand quickly came up to cover your mouth. The immediate impact zone looked horrible; you could practically see the blood pooling under his skin. The wound, although under the skin, was spread out like ripples. The top of it reached up to his collarbone, and the bottom two or three inches above his navel.

“Rex, oh my god.” You took a step towards him. He did not seem to be registering your voice, his hand ghosting over the wound.

He finally looked at you and lowered his tank. “Well, seems like you’ve had enough training to me.” His voice was much more fridged than before. You did not even know you could be doing worse than you were this morning when it came to him.

“Please, just let me heal it, that’s what I am here for right?” You desperately wanted to fix this. Not just because it was unexplainable and was sure to raise more eyebrows about you, but because you wanted to help him. As much of an asshole as he was, you did not want to actually hurt him, he just taught you a lot of valuable things. Hell of a thank you!

“It’s fine Nurse, I’ve got it.” He looked at you with an unclear expression. It felt a lot like disgust.

“It’ll be quick-”

“Just fucking-!”

“I’m so sorry! Please just let me-”

“Just stop!” Rex held his hands out in front of him and backed away, you did not follow this time. Everyone at the hospital whoever refused your help flashed in your mind. It almost made you want to cry, even around other people with powers you were not trusted. It was easy for people to put faith in superheroes when there was nothing they could do about the situation. If they do not see you as a necessity, you’re just a freak. You just did not realize that those of your own kind would see you that way too.

Rex stormed off to the exit of the training area just as Rae was walking in, bumping into her. She exclaimed but he unambiguously gave her a glare and continued out.

“What was all of that about?” Rae glanced over to where Rex had been standing moments ago.

You sighed, rubbing your neck and looking over at her. “I think I’m just going to ask Cecil for a gun or something if I have to fight.”

Author's Note: I might need to slow down soon with releasing chapters, finals are coming up and I don't think my professors will take "I had to write fanfiction" as an excuse for late assignments 💔. But then I will have a lot of time with summer. I want to get this out as fast as possible cause I hate waiting for updates as much as the next person. I hardly plan ahead so were experiencing this at the same time haha

divider credit: @/ saradika

Chapter six

#crawling back to you rexfic #invincible #rex splode x reader #no use of y/n #enemies to lovers #rex splode #rex sloan x reader #rex sloan #slow burn #invincible season 3 #amazon prime #invincible rex splode #no beta we die like rex splode apparently #rex splode fanfic #angst

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zeisarinn · 10 months ago

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igual que un angel — rin itoshi !!

heaven must have sent you to earth !!

my man !! + rin i love you !! + sassy man apocalypse !! + i need rin merch !!

rin itoshi was someone who always stuck to his schedule. always following the same routine from the moment he woke up until the moment he fell asleep. when you “forced” your presence into his life, he could never stick to his schedule ever again. always having things happen spontaneously around you was both a blessing and a curse. just like how you both were now half-way into watching the barbie movies, “here I am” playing in the background as you both watched Kiera dance to the music.

you watched the movie, humming to the music as rin played with your hair, the light and feathery touches making you want to fall asleep. you blink the sleepiness away, cuddling into rin’s side as your matching hot pink barbie themed pjs invaded your vision. you quietly giggle to yourself, thinking back on when he didn’t want to wear them at first until you practically forced him into the comfy fabric.

your boyfriend was kind of dumb though, seeing as he still hasn’t noticed the way that you kept glancing up at him or maybe he was just being an annoying little shit again. gods, he was so insufferable at times… so pretty, I meant petty, I mean what? who said that? your boyfriend is so lovely, he would never hurt anyone (he would, specially if it was shidou). maybe to him, ignorance was bliss. a mischievous smile slowly starts to creep up your face, a grin forming as you look up at him. “rinnie,” you whine, a pout on your lips as you look up at him, watching as he barely even glances down at you when you call for him. you follow his gaze, tracing it back to the tv and realizing that he was watching the movie with his full attention. “...what happened to not wanting to watch a children’s movie, huh?” you ask him, a deadpan expression on your face as you reach your hand up to gently poke his cheek, a teasing smile on your face when he immediately looks away.

men are so weird, your boyfriend was definitely even weirder though. maybe he was a woman born in a man’s body, why was he always so much sassier than you anyways? maybe it was the itoshi genes in him or maybe he was a victim of the sassy men apocalypse or maybe this was a sign that you should’ve never made your boyfriend install tiktok. one moment it was “you look just as beautiful as the cherry blossoms” and the next was “you look like the ugly duckling.”

you watch as he huffs, a small pout forming on his lips as he not-so-discreetly glances back at the tv screen. you feel a laugh start to bubble up, giggles rocking your body as you hug rin even tighter. you lean up, pressing a kiss to his cheek and pouty lips before pulling away, watching as he playfully glares at you. you nuzzle your face into his neck, breathing in the light citrus scent of his body wash as he murmurs. “it’s… not bad” you hum at his answer, turning your head to watch the movie as you giggle. “whatever you say, rinnie, whatever you say.”

work belongs to @/zeisarin 2024 don’t copy, steal, or repost without permission

#rin itoshi #itoshi rin #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #🫧 ─ works #🫧 ─ character; bllk ─ rin itoshi #🫧 ─ blue lock

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azucar-skull · 8 months ago

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The golden 4 of drawing ASL for comics

*I am not Deaf, CODA, or a licensed interpreter. That being said, I took all level classes and practice regularly. So while I can get a license...idk I just don't feel like it lol. I got a speech disorder so that's why I learned it.

That being said, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing--

1) Staging

Most comic artists are aware when you draw 2 people talking, you gotta stage it so that the last thing person A says flows into the first thing person B says. This staging makes the interaction feel more natural and lively.

Same rule applies to ASL. The last thing person A signs should flow into the first thing person B signs.

2) Grammar

ASL is its own language, not a word-by-word cipher! It has its own directs, styles, and grammar rules. Here's a chart:

So in that case, you must understand how an English sentence is written in ASL. And THEN determine what is the REAL last sign of person A and first sign of person B.

Much better!

3) Emphasis

Given the context, the same sentence can be said very differently. Usually we yell louder when the context is more urgent or exciting.

Same applies to ASL. Our signs become more expressive depending on the context. Don't forget that facial expressions play a role in grammar!

4) Style

Everyone 👏 signs 👏 differently! 👏 If you've met one Deaf person, you've met one Deaf person. Each ASL user has/will have their own unique style. Heck, there’s a thing called Black ASL which is derived of stylized signs used in Black Deaf culture.

Take the time to know your characters. Their personality, their culture, their environment, and how they learned ASL to begin with. These factors will help each of your characters stand out a bit more and make their signing fit their traits.

In the end, here's the improvement:

It doesn’t take much to do it right. We are blessed (and cursed) to have the internet where any information you need is at your fingertips, reference multiple sources too. Hope this helps!

Commissions // Ko-Fi Tip Jar // Top Surgery GoFundMe

#we get ASL in episode 3 so i'm making this guide now lol #feral casey au #for fcau #asl #american sign language #sign language #rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #writing advice #art advice #disability #disabled artist

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kikyoupdates · 5 months ago

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Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑙

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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For the first time in Katsuki’s life, he finds himself at a loss for words.

What kind of sick joke is this? It hasn’t even been that long since the two of you met, and he made sure to declare his name, loud and clear.

He’s Bakugou Katsuki. He’s the coolest kid in the world, blessed with an incredible Quirk, and he has no doubt that one day, he’ll surpass All Might as the Number One Hero.

And yet, you say you don’t remember his name? Is such a thing even possible? He’s the type of kid who leaves a lasting impression, no matter the time or place. No one who’s been lucky enough to meet him has ever, ever forgotten what his name is.

At least, not until today.

“Don’t... don’t say stupid crap,” Katsuki stammers. He swallows hard; for some reason, there’s a lump in his throat. “I know you remember me, stupid girl. Playing dumb won’t make a difference at this point.”

“I remember Izuku,” you say, pointing to the curly-haired boy in question. Then, you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “But I didn’t bother memorizing your name, since I don’t like you very much. Actually, I don’t like you at all.”

Katsuki can feel his entire body trembling with rage, and to make matters even worse, several of his classmates have turned their heads and are now watching the scene unfold.

In Katsuki’s eyes, he’s always been the best. Ever since his Quirk manifested, or rather, even before that, his confidence has known no bounds. The universe blessed him with immeasurable power, and at the same time, cursed him with a remarkably inflated ego.

He’s gifted. He’s strong. To top it all off, he’s smart too.

So then, why are you staring at him as if you genuinely don’t give a single fuck?

“What’s wrong, blond guy?” you frown. “You’re making a funny face. Ah, don’t tell me. Are you constipated? Aizawa says it’s important to go to the bathroom on time and not to hold it in. Otherwise, you might—”

“Shut your goddamn mouth!”

Without even thinking twice, Katsuki swings his fist at you, detonating an explosion at the very same time. Of course, using Quirks inside the classroom is absolutely not permitted, but right now, he’s too furious to even care.

He wants to punch that stupid, pretentious face of yours. He wants to put you in your place and prove exactly how much better he is than you.

But it looks like today just isn’t Katsuki’s day, because not only do you manage to sidestep him, demonstrating impressive reflexes, but the teacher chooses to walk into the classroom at that exact moment.

“Bakugou!” she cries out. “What in the world are you doing?!”

He’s in trouble now. He’s in big, big trouble.

And you must realize it too, since all of a sudden, you’re giggling.

“Haha,” you muse. “You did something dumb, and now the teacher’s angry with you.”

Katsuki slams his little fist against one of the desks, just barely suppressing the urge to scream. He knew he had a bad feeling about you from the first moment you met. He knew you were bound to be nothing but a giant pain in his ass.

There’s no doubt about it anymore.

Katsuki fucking despises you.

“You can’t attack your classmates,” the teacher chides. She grabs him and pulls him away from you, then crosses her arms in frustration. “I’m going to let you off with a warning today, but if I ever see you using your Quirk or trying to hurt someone again, next time, I’ll be telling your parents. Am I understood?”

Katsuki grits his teeth. He can see you out of the corner of his eye, and sure enough, you’ve still got that shit-eating grin on your face. A loser like you is actually laughing at someone like him.

No way in hell will he let you get away with this.

Katsuki isn’t sure how, and he’s not even sure when, but one day, he’s going to make you pay for humiliating him.

It’s only your first day at school, but so far, you’ve been having a blast.

The highlight of the day was obviously finding out that Izuku was in the same class as you. Naturally, you intend to make as many friends as possible, but you already liked Izuku, so this is the best turn-out imaginable. It doesn’t look like Shinsou is in this class, which is a bit of a bummer, but maybe one day you’ll get to meet him again too.

Anyways, school is fun. The teacher even specially pulled you to the front of the class, so that you could introduce yourself to everyone.

“I’m [Name],” you smile. “And this is my first time in school, so I’m really excited to be here!”

“Were you homeschooled until now?” one of the kids asks.

“Homeschooled...? What’s that?”

You don’t understand the question, but rather than allowing you to try and clarify, the teacher hastily cuts in.

“That’s right,” she says, straining a smile. “[Name] hasn’t been in school before, so it’s up to us to make sure that she feels comfortable and welcome, okay?”

The students hum in agreement, and thankfully, a bunch of six-year-olds aren’t too concerned with the details of your past, so they gloss over the issue with ease.

Of course, you don’t realize that the teacher was trying to save you just then. She’s been informed that you come from a traumatic background, and she’s doing everything in her power to make sure the other kids don’t say anything that might trigger you or come across as insensitive.

But unfortunately, what the teacher believes are memory gaps due to trauma, are in fact gaps in your knowledge that have yet to be filled in.

Which makes for several awkward instances that day.

“Okay, who wants to try reading the passage I’ve written on the board?” the teacher asks. She consciously avoids calling on you, but because you don’t know any better, you grin and volunteer yourself for the job.

“Me!” you beam. “I can do it!”

“Huh? O-Oh. Thank you for offering, [Name]. Go right ahead,” she encourages.

You just vaguely register Katsuki letting out a derisive snort, but you disregard it and direct all your attention to the blackboard.

It only takes a few moments for your brows to furrow.

“Um, actually, never mind,” you say. “I can’t really understand what you wrote.”

You sit back down like nothing ever happened, meanwhile, some of your classmates are either giggling or gossiping amongst themselves. But since you’re too naïve to realize that they’re making fun of you, you just smile and fold your hands together, happily swinging your legs underneath your desk.

The teacher hurries to clear her throat. “Th-That’s perfectly fine. Taking the initiative and challenging yourself is always a good thing. Um, so then... is there anyone else who’d like to try reading this passage?”

“I’ll do it.”

Katsuki proceeds to stand up, grinning rather smugly for some reason. You’re not particularly interested in him, but Aizawa and Present Mic did say that you’re here to learn things, so if he knows the right answer, you should probably pay attention.

To no one’s surprise, Katsuki reads the passage flawlessly. He’s the best student in the class, despite how much of a little asshole he is.

So, even rude guys like him know all kinds of things. I’d better do my best to learn more and make Aizawa and Mic proud.

Dr. Garaki planned for you to be a soldier. His personal little puppet. Needless to say, when he focused on developing your language comprehension, he primarily intended for you to be able to understand his orders and carry them out without questioning anything. He certainly didn’t expect you to be sitting in a classroom, equipped with a pencil and paper.

But that’s fine. You’re a bit behind the other kids right now, and that can’t be helped, but so long as you have the willingness to learn and improve, you have no doubt that you’ll catch up with them.

You will take fate into your own hands, rather than being used to fulfill someone else’s twisted ambitions.

Anyways, despite messing up in front of the whole class, you have yet to experience what it means to be embarrassed, so you carry on without being fazed in the slightest.

Soon enough, lunch rolls around.

“Izuku! Do you want to eat together?”

You grin as you walk up to his desk, and as always, he blushes at the sight of you approaching him so cheerfully.

“S-Sure,” he mumbles shyly. “If you really don’t mind...”

“Why would I mind? Being with you is so fun! Oh, and we can compare lunches too! Look, Aizawa packed me mini burgers,” you say, opening up your lunchbox and proudly displaying the contents within. “Hehe. I love burgers.”

“Aizawa?” Izuku blinks. “Isn’t that your last name? Earlier, the teacher wrote your full name on the board, and it said ‘Aizawa [Name]’. Do you call your parents by their last name for some reason?”

You frown at that. Come to think of it, Aizawa did mention that he enrolled you in this school using his last name, since he’s your legal guardian or whatever. You suppose that means you finally have a last name, like everyone else. But you've called him Aizawa for so long that it feels kind of weird to change it all of a sudden.

“Aizawa is just Aizawa,” you shrug. “He’s a nice man who takes care of me.”

“So, he’s your dad?”

“Dad? Hm... I guess kind of. Him and Mic are kind of like dads.”

Izuku furrows his brows, desperately trying to keep up. But he probably realizes that there’s a reason why you can’t give him a straight answer, and besides, all families are different, so he’s hardly one to judge.

“Anyways, what do you have for lunch?” you ask excitedly.

“Huh? Oh. My mom packed me katsudon,” Izuku smiles. Just like you did moments prior, he opens his lunchbox to show off what’s inside. “Katsudon is my favorite, so whenever I get to eat this for lunch, I’m always super happy!”

“I feel the same about burgers,” you nod solemnly. “If I could eat burgers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I would. But Aizawa keeps saying I need variety or whatever. I don’t really get it, if I’m being honest...”

Izuku giggles. “Well, if you ate burgers all the time, then it probably wouldn’t be your favorite food anymore, right? You’d probably get sick of it at some point.”

“No,” you reply confidently. “I will never get sick of burgers.”

“Wow. You must really like them! Probably even more than I like katsudon!”

Since you’re incredibly generous (and also a bit curious), you offer Izuku some of your burgers in exchange for having a taste of his katsudon. He accepts, and while his food tastes delicious too, it only affirms what you already knew to be true.

Nothing will ever compare to a good-ass burger.

This of course stems from the fact that it was the first food you ever had. The very first thing you ever tasted since you became a conscious, living being. The taste is comforting to you, even if you don’t realize it, and it’s food that feeds your soul, not just your belly.

But either way, burgers are delicious, and that alone is plenty reason for you to keep eating them.

Lunch is a lot of fun, since you get to spend it chatting with Izuku. The two of you have a great time, and Izuku especially, because up until you came along, he either spent his lunches eating alone, or being teased by Katsuki and his groupies.

Speaking of a certain blond piece of shit, his lunch is going horribly, despite the fact that his mom packed his favorite spicy curry.

He can hardly stand the sight of you and Izuku, giggling stupidly, without so much as a care in the world. You really aren’t all there in the head if you’re choosing to hang out with that lame nerd. And you can’t even read properly, which further reinforces that you’re an idiot.

“Katsuki, what’s wrong?” one of the boys asks him. “You keep looking at [Name]. Are you still upset because she forgot your name?”

Katsuki’s face instantly reddens. “She did not forget my name,” he counters. “She was just pretending like she forgot my name. There's a difference. And why should I care about a stupid girl like her who doesn’t even know how to read?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” the boy acknowledges. “There’s no way someone would forget your name, Katsuki. Maybe she’s just shy. She might have a crush on you.”

“Ew. I’m not interested in girls and their cooties. Especially not the extra stupid ones.”

Katsuki shoves a spoonful of curry into his mouth and spares another quick glance at you. Then again, a crush is actually quite plausible. Everyone’s always praising him for how cool he is, and girls are no exception. It would certainly explain why you’re behaving so strangely, completely unlike anyone he’s ever met before.

Katsuki’s lips curl into a smug grin. A crush, huh? Yeah, that has to be what’s going on here. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s been fixating on you for so long, at least, not until you finally turn his way and knit your brows together.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” you frown. “It’s annoying, so please stop.”

You turn back around and resume happily chatting with Izuku. Meanwhile, Katsuki’s spoon drops onto his desk, and for a solid minute, he sits there with his mouth gaping wide open in disbelief.

He seriously despises you to no fucking end.

A bell chimes, and just like that, your first day of school is officially over.

It was a lot of fun. Hanging out with Izuku was unarguably the best part, and even though you’ve discovered you need to polish up on your reading and writing skills, you’re not discouraged in the slightest. You’re sure that Aizawa and Present Mic can teach you more stuff at home. With their help, you’ll be an A+ student in no time.

“Aizawa! Mic!”

You rush out of the building, and just as promised, they’re both there waiting for you.

“Kiddo!” Present Mic grins. He opens up his arms so that you can run right into them, and without wasting a beat, he picks you up and twirls you around. You giggle at the sensation of your tiny feet being lifted off the ground.

Aizawa watches the exchange with a smile. “You look like you’re in a good mood. I’m guessing you had a fun time?”

“Yep!” you beam. “Oh, and best of all, I ran into a really nice boy who’s in my class! I think we’re going to be really good friends!”

Right on cue, Izuku appears behind you, walking next to a pretty woman who you can only assume is his mother.

“That’s him,” you say, pointing excitedly. “Izuku, look! This is Aizawa, and that’s Mic, who was with me at the playground! They’re the two nice people that take care of me.”

At first, Izuku is a bit bashful, and hides behind his mother’s arm. But as the seconds pass, and he stares at the two men’s faces more and more, a look of realization settles across his face.

“N-No way!” he exclaims, running up to you. “Are you the Voice Hero, Present Mic?! I didn’t realize it last time, but now that I’ve looked more closely, and the name Mic... it has to be you, right?”

“Hm? Ah.” Present Mic chuckles a few times. “Here I am, out of costume and in casual clothes, but you still recognized me, huh? I guess I do have pretty distinct features. Man, sometimes it’s tough being this handsome.”

“No, I think it’s just that your stupid expression is a dead giveaway,” Aizawa remarks.

“What?! Take that back right now!”

“I only speak the truth.”

“Curse you, Aizawa!”

The two are bickering like always, and it makes you giggle. Even though you’re a kid, you can still tell that it’s all in good fun. They get along great, and they care about each other. That much is obvious.

Izuku clenches his fists, eyes glossy and wide. “U-Um, if you don’t mind... would it be alright if I got your autograph? It’s just that you’re a really cool hero, and I love heroes, so...”

His voice tapers off near the end, and he bows his head, visibly flustered. It’s clear that he’s kind of starstruck and doesn’t quite know what to do.

Thankfully, Present Mic isn’t the type to leave a fan hanging.

“One autograph coming right up,” he grins, pulling out a pen (which he keeps on his person for this exact reason). Izuku lets out a squeal of delight, promptly digs into his backpack to grab one of his notebooks, and Present Mic proceeds to write a lengthy and personalized message.

When he’s done, Izuku stares at his new autograph in awe, and you can tell that he won’t be forgetting this meeting anytime soon.

“Say thank you to the nice hero, Izuku,” his mother, Inko, prods.

“Huh? O-Oh, right! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

The little boy bows his head over and over again, and you can’t help but feel like he’s being needlessly polite, especially since Present Mic is as laidback as they come, but you suppose it just goes to show how happy he is.

Izuku really likes heroes, it seems. And as fate would have it, you’re being raised by not one, but two of them.

Nobody can fault you for wanting to brag a little.

“Aizawa is a hero too,” you proudly declare. You expected Izuku to lose his mind again, and granted, he does get a bit more excited, but after a few seconds, his brows pull into a frown.

“S-Sorry,” he stammers. “I’m usually so good at recognizing heroes, but I’m kind of having a bit of a hard time with him...”

“Haha!” Present Mic laughs. “Suck it, Aizawa! You’ll never measure up to me in terms of popularity! Or looks, for that matter!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes. “You know that I deliberately avoid making public appearances. Unlike you, I don’t waste my time worrying about trivial matters like that.” He looks back towards Izuku. “It’s okay if you don’t recognize me, kid. I keep my hero work on the downlow. But thank you for supporting this loud idiot, even if he doesn’t have much to offer.”

“Hey!” Present Mic protests. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aizawa ignores him, then offers you his hand. “Anyways, time to go home, [Name]. You can tell us all about how your first day went when we get back.”

“Okie-dokie! Bye-bye, Izuku!” You start to wave goodbye to your friend, but at the last second, you have a sudden thought, and you briefly pull away from Aizawa to whisper in Izuku’s ear. “Eraserhead,” you mumble. “That’s Aizawa’s hero name, just in case you were wondering. Don’t worry. If you want his autograph, I can get it for you another time.”

His green eyes go unspeakably wide, so sure enough, he has heard of Aizawa.

For some reason, it makes you feel awfully proud.

“B-Bye, [Name]!” Izuku waves. He’s so excited he’s practically bouncing in place, no doubt looking forward to the autograph you promised him. Unlike Present Mic, Aizawa isn’t usually too keen on interacting with fans, but you’re positive that with a bit of time, you’ll be able to convince him.

Aizawa frowns when you link back up with him. “What were you whispering about?”

“It’s a secret,” you hum.

“Oh? Already keeping secrets, I see. Your classmates must be a bad influence on you,” he muses.

“Nuh-uh! Everyone seems really nice so far. Oh,” you blink, realizing something. “I guess there is one guy that might be a bit of a bad influence. But don’t worry, I’m staying away from him.”

“What?” Present Mic frowns. “Is there a problem child in your class?”

“I guess you could call him that. Mic, remember the blond kid that was trying to make people climb that tree? That's him.”

Present Mic lets out a loud, obnoxious gasp. “Great heavens above. Aizawa, this is serious. There’s a demon in [Name]’s class.”

“I’m sure you’re just exaggerating,” Aizawa sighs. Still, you can feel his grip on your hand instinctively get tighter. “But like I said before, there’s always going to be people that try to pressure others into doing bad things, so don’t be swayed by him. Always make the smart, safe choice.”

You nod in agreement. “Don’t worry. I won’t get hurt because of him anymore. He tried punching me today in class, but I evaded him, and then he got in trouble with the teacher. It was kind of funny.”

In your mind, it was just a casual, thoughtless remark. You’re unharmed, after all, and since no limbs were broken in the process, you figured it was no big deal.

But in light of the information you’ve just divulged, Aizawa and Present Mic find their expressions turning to horror.

They proceed to lock eyes, and in that moment, it’s clear that they’re both thinking the same thing.

“What’s that little brat’s name?” they both glower. “We’d like to have a word with him.”

You purse your lips. They seem awfully serious all of a sudden, although you can’t understand why, because you got out of that situation safe and sound. Clearly, you have yet to realize just how overprotective your ‘dads’ can be.

“His name,” Aizawa insists. “Trying to hurt someone is absolutely unacceptable. We need to take this up with the kid’s parents. In fact, I’m surprised the teacher didn’t tell us. She must have been trying to give the boy a second chance, but it’s still inexcusable.”

“He’s already gotten a second chance,” Present Mic grimaces. “Back at the playground, I already caught him trying to hit [Name] once. It looks like he’s a repeat offender, and bullies like that need to be dealt with right away.”

They’re becoming more heated by the second, and again, it’s strange, because as far as you’re concerned, your first day of school went splendidly.

But you suppose you should tell them what they want to know, since they seem so worked up about it.

“His name,” you start, furrowing your brows, “his name is, um... his name...”

Ah.

“Darn. Looks like I’ve forgotten it again.”

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