#like I'm capable of tone matching

[awesomebutunpractical]

Hang on, my brother has a Netflix account right now, I could watch the Invader ZiM movie.

[madamecaos]

Crush (ing)

Summary: Where Ghost goes a little too rough on you in training then makes up for it.

5k+ ish words │ Ghost (Simon Riley) x Y/N

A/N: Angst with a smutty happy ending. Times are weird now, so I'm back to writing again. You know the drill, no proofread found here

-----

Part 1

It was merely a crush, you realized. It must be. Otherwise, you would have to not have sex again with Simon.

Because there was no way in hell a man like that would let himself be roped in into a relationship, and a relationship with you at that. You were sure he hated you, going by his nonchalant treatment when he wasn’t in your bed. 

There, another example. You haven’t even been to his room, which going by his arrogant attitude must be annoyingly spotless.

You hated him, or at least you wished that saying it would make it better for your sanity. Because this was Simon.

The first time you slept together happened in France, and it was not gentle. Well, you didn’t really expect any special treatment as a lover, but it wasn’t exactly a tender moment, more of a “blowing some steam” sort of thing. A ‘high-school make out session’ sort of a thing, or so you repeated in your head whenever his name came up in conversation.   

It’s not to say that it wasn’t enjoyable, but only a representation of the tone of your weird situationship. And you were fully sure that this was Johnny’s fault somehow.

“But he likes you, lass. That’s why he’s a pain.” He said, as if there was no doubt about it.

You scoffed at that. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Your aching shoulder, after sparring got out hand, made you believe otherwise.

Now, Johnny said something about hanging out for drinks with some locals. The mission in Serbia took a pause on the wait for new intel, so as consequence your unit had a free week out of uniform. This meant more time with your team outside of work, and that meant that you and Ghost were at each other’s throats. Mostly you since his sunken eyes behind the sockets of his skullmask barely moved when you made jabs at him.

Then he stared and stared, a blank look threatening you into a near sycosis. Why couldn’t he just be normal and answer without underestimating you?

And one night there was a local event, promising alcohol and a good time. It was dark already, but the people there were lively, enjoying food and from far away, you could hear music and dancing. You couldn’t wait to try and merge with the crowd, maybe flirt a little with a cute local. And you thought you looked lovely, really good going by the way some of the soldiers ogled you. It must be due to you being one of the only females in the base, but it wasn’t harming your ego.

Johnny whistled when you met at the entrance, drawing attention to you in civilian clothes. You think they hadn’t seen you off your gear yet, and it must be shocking to see you in a normal long maxi skirt mapping the curves of your hips, a dark top and a fashionable coat, just as dark of course. You looked like a killer with your dark makeup and hair down for the first time in a while, sparkling earrings catching in moonlight.

“Little lady, are ya lost?” He whistled again, making you hurry your pace to shut him up. There was a diminutive pause with hesitation at seeing Ghost in the driver seat after Johnny moved away from the window.

He looked at you, eyes trailing leisurely from your toes to your eyes. You wiggled your white-painted toes in your wedges at the pinning stare. It was a pain smuggling nail polish in missions, but his ongoing stare made it worth it. They might not be up to code, but you didn’t really care. He blinked slowly as his fingers lightly rapped against the steering wheel in what you thought to be annoyance.

“Are ya coming?” The brute asked, still bitter by your word ping-pong match in Price’s office. You certainly had won because you believed yourself capable of acting as a secret spy inside a mob dead set on selling plutonium as a business. Yeah, they were a little out of their heads, but really talented at hiding, so here you were, stuck in Serbia. Ghost clearly thought you weren’t good enough of a liar to gather intelligence, or so he implied, but you knew it was because he didn’t believe you weren’t good enough overall.

Your past scuffles where Ghost was the opponent, pinning you down on the mat, were proof enough. This was the military, you weren’t allowed to make it personal, but when he bested you and made sure to show you your faults with overtraining you… His strict treatment with you hadn’t gone unnoticed by others and, well, let’s say that you weren’t feeling rational about it. 

To your annoyance he got out of the car, and for a second you expected him to fight you again, maybe prevent you from getting into the backseat with brute force. Would he say that you weren’t allowed to drink or have fun? Would your mistakes make him order you back to the gym instead of a night of fun?

None of the scenarios circulating in your head happened. Instead, he leaned sideways and opened the door. You stood still as he waited at your gaping. Then, obviating your embarrassment, you closed your mouth and got in at the rise of an eyebrow behind his mask. None of you mentioned anything at his action, one that you found odd. Maybe he did it as a power move? Or maybe he did it only for the shock factor to keep you on your toes?

Sitting at the back, immersing yourself in your distrust, you kept making eye contact with Ghost through the rearview mirror. Not on purpose, but he did nothing to turn his eyes away, only to drive, and sometimes you swore he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

But you kept fighting with facts versus what you wanted. Did you want him to seek you, look at you and only you? Your last argument kept circulating in your thoughts. Whenever he looked at you, pain followed.

So, he steered the rented car in silence, Johnny making conversation with himself. Ghost found parking nearby inside the city, near the pubs, and yet the car was left hidden in another block. Yeah right… it was the car that would draw attention, not the hulk-of-a-man wearing a balaclava in public.

And it was sort of inevitable the way your gaze would keep drawing back to the blonde near-white lashes free of dark paint or the sharpness of his jawline as he rumbled out another one of his jokes to Johnny. The lack of skull mask allowed you to obsess, no, notice the details. Yes, notice.

And he still had a balaclava. You felt like you were going insane in your ruminating and in your shame for sleeping with someone that didn’t find you worthy enough to show their face.

The guys flocked around you as you headed into the first club with music you could understand.

After a while, you realized you shouldn’t have dared to defy a Scotsman in a drinking game. Johnny was fully sober and you were giggly at your third drink. You were drawn to the dance floor and the bar behind it, or at least a moment for yourself.  A fourth drink didn’t sound so bad, you mused as you planned how to get out of the booth. You were fidgeting in the middle, Johnny on one side, Ghost on the other. Gaz was supposedly on his way, something about needing more time to get dressed. As if. He probably knew this night would be boring and would never arrive.

“Excuse me, scoot” you said, nodding at Johnny to move so you could get out. He huffed and practically ignored you with a teasing grin as he kept ‘scoping the perimeter’ or whatever that meant. “Johnny, let me out. I have to pee.”

“So? If you leave, who’ll be my wingwoman?” 

“Certainly not me. Ghost?”

“Not moving.”

You looked at the two, noticing that Johnny was leaning forward on the table, and Ghost wasn’t. Hoping that the shock factor would stave away the complaints, you swung your leg over Ghost’s hips, landing on your knee at his side. The skirt rode up to your knees as you stared him down, stumbling at your sloshed state. You expected to climb away quickly, but before you could escape into the booming music, solid hands tightened themselves over your hips. You swayed as you lost your momentum, hitting your lower back on the edge of the table, empty glasses clinking.

You hissed at the pain, the bruises on your back tender from yesterday’s training stung as your hands grasped his shoulders for stability. One of his palms quickly spread on your lower back, preventing more accidents. Your lips clamped at the pain. His head was almost at your height, despite you being over him, a few inches up on your knees, spread over his thighs.

Dark eyes stared at you through his mask, but you could clearly make out a risen eyebrow in amusement. That little shit always found a way to get a rise out of you.

“Easy, doll. You should’ve just asked,” he rumbled lowly, barely heard through the music.

“Woah,” Soap added to your embarrassment.

“None of you would move, now let me off,” you didn’t wait for his permission and swung your other leg away, paving your way to freedom away from those steady hands. There was no way you could feel his warmth through all your layers beneath the skirt, but the shape of his fingertips still ghosted over your hips. Fighting the urge to look back, you walked away with flaming cheeks, and hurriedly headed directly to the bar. Well, more like swayed to the bar as embarrassment sunk in slowly in your drunken state.

It was almost as if he was completely unbothered by your presence whilst the mere thought of that skull mask made your logic haywire, aggression being an immediate outlet. You certainly needed that drink, or anything as a distraction, but the bar was unreachable. The hoard of people flaying their limbs to the deep base reverberating through your form didn’t allow you a direct way, so you tried to push yourself through the sides of the crowd. Even being half-way there, you saw that getting that drink would be a pain, the barstools fully occupied, a line of people trying to get the overworked bartender’s attention.

You sighed, knowing that you would have to wait for that reprieve for more than an hour, going by how slow the line was moving. After someone bumped into your sore shoulder, an answer to your question came in the form of the red sign of Exit behind you. Maybe you wouldn’t get a drink, but fresh air might help stave away the recurring memory of the shape of Ghost’s palms on you. The fact that you kept thinking about it made you want to punch something… Fresh air it is. Without looking back, you went outside into a back alley, the cold air helping you sober up enough to not stumble through the horde of smokers blocking the entrance.

What was this bar selling that was so full? You cursed lowly, knowing that your much needed moment of peace would have to wait some more. The thought of calling for a Taxi back to base crossed your mind, your annoyance slowly rising. Unfortunately, you left your purse behind with the other two, your bra carrying the only cash you had in the currency, enough for that one drink you kept dreaming about.

With arms crossed around you, you set your pride aside and found a dark corner to sit in, the lights and the music far away. A little misplaced wooden crate allowed you to take the weight off your feet, far enough to hide you from the locals chatting away over cigarettes. You weren’t as vigilant as your usual self, knowing that with your combat training, you were the most dangerous person amongst them.

With that in mind and at the relief of momentary silence, you closed your eyes, fingertips massaging your temples. Maybe it had been a blessing in disguise that you couldn’t get that drink. You had been bunking with another soldier in the common barracks, the cafeteria was always busy, your itinerary was filled with missions, training, discussing intel, fighting with Ghost and being subjected to horrible jokes and prompts from your peers. This had been the only moment you’ve been alone, you realized.

Peace was broken as you opened your eyes, military boots standing inches away from you. You scolded yourself for recognizing them immediately, not an ounce of you distinguishing him as enemy. Was it normal to even find annoying how silent he was when walking? You should’ve seen him coming.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker,” Ghost said, already knowing that you weren’t. You knew that to your core. He was too observant and too vigilant for his own good, or for your sanity.

“I’m not. Where’s Johnny?” You looked up, craning your neck upwards. The mass of him blended with the darkness of the sky behind him. You could only make out his eyes out of the balaclava.

“Inside,” He looked down on you and you debated if your pride was enough to make you stand up. Even if it was impossible, you wanted to be enough to stand at his height, for him to recognize you at something as your equal. He better walk away before you start spewing truths that would only confess your drunken self.

“And what are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you.”

You held in the scoff, rolling your eyes with closed lids. You waved him away, going back to massaging your temples. “You can tell Johnny I’m fine. Just getting some fresh air.”

He looked sideways momentarily, eyeing the smokers nearby, then returned to pin you down with the heaviness of his gaze.

“You’re hiding,” he said with no question in his statement, head tilting sideways with curiosity.

“No-“

“Away from me,” he rumbled deeply, almost to himself. “It seems we are at an impasse.”

“I’m not doing this right now. Whatever you want to talk about, will be at base with a superior present,” you glared upwards as he eyed the hands now in tight fists on your lap. He knew you were clearly referring to Price, who abided to the bureaucratic process despite his favoritism for his favorite killer. That killer wasn’t you obviously.

You were considered too sentimental, as if that was another flaw.

After a beat, he opened his mouth solely to aggravate you, you were sure. “Said superior suggested we resolve our issues outside of work.”

The comment felt like a mockery. “And this is out of work, right? Get a few drinks in the girl, lower her defenses… and just talk.”

He hummed, a sound you felt in the hollow of your chest. It was almost as if you couldn’t help but react to his every word as an insult. The resentment you held for him always made you wonder that maybe, if you hadn’t felt like proving something to him, you would’ve stayed as a mediocre soldier. That his tough lessons and obvious disdain were meant due to something greater. You wanted to be grateful, to see the good outcome of the estranged liaison you have with one of your superiors, but it was draining enough to know that all effort would go to waste.

“I’ll let them know you were not reciprocating, up to resolve our issues,” he answered with finality, knowing that his flat tone would make you take the bait. He didn’t even blink at your scoff, your eyebrows furrowing at your irritation, him knowing too easily how to get a reaction out of you.

“Issues?” You stood up shakily, leaning your weight on the wall behind you. “Why don’t you tell me what our issues are, Lieutenant?”

In a moment of bravery, you stood on the crate. Even with the added height, the top of your head didn’t even reach his clavicle.

“You’re angry.” He crossed his arms uncharacteristically, biceps bulging at the tension. His eyes roved up and down, as if searching for a clue as to what had you so mad. And in something similar to a question, he added, “At me.”

Furious, but you didn’t correct him. You crossed your arms to imitate his pose, incredulous at the obvious statement. This time you used his tactic and stayed silent as an answer, opting for him to fill in the conversation.

“Tell me why,” he demanded gruffly.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” He couldn’t just interrupt your me-time and start demanding answers out of you, you convinced yourself. You knew you were being difficult, but at this moment, this was merely deflecting. There was no way you would confess your insecurities upon his demands, as if the outcome were to be an improvement.

It was his turn to tilt his eyes up to the sky, seeking answers as he sighed in exasperation. In a second after contemplating, he let his guard down so plainly, you stood shocked and deadly still at his stance. What was this? His shoulders relaxed, arms resting down by his side, eyes beseeching to answer. A clear posture open to you. “I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong, sweetheart.”

The endearment and the sincerity in his eyes caught you off guard. You blinked, eyes wide open, ignoring the surprise of the coiling heat stirring near your thighs.

Then he went on to call your call sign, spurring you to blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re mean to me,” You lowered your arms to your sides like him.

You felt like a child, whining, and impossibly allocating a responsibility that didn’t belong to him.

He lowered his chin in disbelief. “You’re… mad at me because I’m mean.”

His complete disregard made you do the exact thing you wanted to avoid. Spill.

“Just mean? No,” Your fury got the best of you, “You know exactly what I’m talking about!”

His eyes widened for the first time, your outburst uncharacteristic, even for your short temper.

“If this is about that night-“

 “You don’t treat me like the others. Even before that night.” You interrupted him, emphasizing what he implied, but felt hysterical at his clear misunderstanding. “You punish me for things that are not my fault. After we spar, I hide bruises because my superior can’t get over himself, but because its my job, I have to pretend its normal, like its professional. And then I’m the weak one? When others don’t have to take your beatings because…because… I don’t know why!”

“Sparring can be violent,” he justified, but to you, he didn’t sound so sure of himself.

“Violent?” You said, nearly shouting. “Violent?!” Ignoring the stiffness of your shoulders and the cold of the Serbian night, you shook of your coat. It was the first time he’d seen more of your skin, your uniform tended to provide full coverage. Even that night was fast and rough, but not unclothed.

He said nothing, his eyes wide at the purple imprints of his fists beneath the thin straps. You knew he could see, even in the dimmed light, how the bruises trailed down your shoulders. He must’ve known they would paint your arms as well, but you hadn’t shed your coat completely. You dared to believe he looked at you in horror, but your feelings bled over the dark alleyway against your better judgment.

“You set impossible expectations in our missions, in drills, and then you act like I’m some sort of failure when I can’t… I’m good at what I do. I do what I’m supposed to do, which is follow orders, swallow my pride, be a good soldier. And then you looked for me to get in my bed, and then nothing from you. So, I did what was expected, I stayed quiet. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He stared and stared, reclamations going over his head as his eyes trailed the rest of your body with furrowed eyebrows. Alarmed. It was the most expressive you’ve seen him. No balaclava could hide the tension that held him upright.

“And then you ask Price to keep me off the next mission, after I keep proving that I’m capable. What else do you want from me?”

For the first time in a long time, he had no sass, no jokes, no answer for what he’d done.

“Y/N… I-“ He choked.

“I’m asking Price to change units. This will be my las mission with 141,” This time, he looked like he wanted to say something, but you were done with his excuses. “I’m done with your disrespect and your justified violence.”

You threw the word back at his face, Ghost tense and quiet.

“Y/N?” Someone asked from the exit. As your head snapped towards the voice, you hastily put your coat on, covering your shoulders immediately.

Johnny clutched your purse, eyes roving over your face and red rimmed eyes. The hesitance to look at your body let you know he had seen enough. Blue eyes kept jumping from Ghost to you, back and forth connecting the dots. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just tired. Heading back to base,” You stepped down the crate, Ghost taking a sudden step back, as if you’d burned him. He officially wanted nothing to do with you.

“I will take you,” Johnny offered, gently and uncharacteristic, raising an arm to put over your shoulders in comfort, but let it fall as if he thought it over.  In a second, he turned with an expectant palm towards Ghost. “Keys.”

He didn’t ask, he demanded. And Ghost, the good soldier he was, followed orders.

“The Lieutenant will take a cab.”

The Lieutenant didn’t argue.

--

The ride was tense, Johnny flickering glances at your silent state. As you stared blankly at the windshield, he hid his anger under his worry.

“Do you… should you talk to someone?” Johnny asked tentatively, indicating that maybe someone of a higher ranking should get involved.

“No,” you answered, finality in your tone.

You opened the door hastily when you arrived, avoiding any opportunity for him to ask more questions.

You had done enough talking for the night.

--

Thankfully, the common barracks were empty. But as you sat on the lower bunk bed, you felt a note crumble beneath your weight.

You stared at nothing in the dark, exhausted, taking deep breaths for a few minutes before you had to read, dreading another mission or another memo at your impertinence.

After gaining courage, the light post by the window allowed you to read that the note was a relocation to another bed.

--

The private room was yours, just like the private bathroom and the queen-sized bed. It was a slight gratification after everything that transpired a few hours ago.

And it was in another hall from your unit, further away from Ghost’s own private bedroom.

You didn’t want to think about him anymore this night, you thought as the nearly boiling water cascaded down your back.

As you scrubbed yourself clean, you reminded yourself that you needed to thank Johnny, he must’ve had to pull some impossible strings to find you a private bedroom amongst the fully occupied base.

In secret, inside of your new bedroom, you finally allowed yourself to cry.

Part 2

[soobsim]

sweat session hn.k

(as a gym girlie, i just couldn't resist)

[DISCLAIMER: nsfw – minors dni, gymbro!kai x afab!reader, shower sex, jealous kai, that's all i have to say-just trust me and read]

m.list

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

it's impossible to not have a crush on huening kai, who has been working out in the same slot as you for three months now. you never talked to him, but it was like a silent agreement between you two to workout together.

stolen glances, always showing up at the same time, spotting each other, saving the equipment while the latter would be using it, they were all silent cues.

so when you showed up to the gym with another gymbro, one of these days, kai didn't appreciate it.

he hated it actually—watching you both the entire time as you shared laughs between sets, suggested useful tricks, high-fived the other guy and barely acknowledged his presence in the gym.

you wearing a sports bra that matched your tight leggings didn't help either, it only riled him up further. it was hard enough not to act on sheer lust when he saw you in those for the last three months, but now you were compromising that mutually subtle deal between you two? he wasn't having it.

kai didn't hide it, having a rather brutal workout session that evening before he followed you to the showers. ofcourse, he made sure that no other women in there, he wasn't a creep.

he heard the shower running in one of the cubicles and didn't even think twice before knocking on it's door, "open up, y/n." he said, rather calmly.

you froze on the other side, not having expected to hear kai's smooth voice to interrupt your post-workout shower. and, because of the chill that ran down your spine when he called your name.

"what the hell? kai..? this is the women's section." you said with your brows furrowed, your hands stilling over your naked body.

you could hear kai grumble on the other end, "as if i didn't know that already. i know that. now, open the door."

your heart leaped in your throat and you blinked a few times, "no, i won't. why would i open the door? i'm naked." you scoffed, not sure what he was even thinking for him to ask that.

"that's all the more reason for you to open the door." his voice deepened. "would you open the door if it was that guy you brought in today?" he chuckled and leaned closer to the door.

your confusion started to clear out at his question. he was jealous, so your little plan did work out. except, you didn't really think about the consequences.

after a short pause, you answered him "ofcourse not." you said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

huening kai raised a brow behind the door, "yeah? you didn't mind him touching you throughout the workout."

your lips almost curled into a smile, "he wasn't touching me, he was spotting me." you retorted, which kai again, didn't like very much.

"y/n, open the door or you know i'm capable enough to do it myself." his tone drained out any room for a joke right now. you know he's right. you've seen how strong he is, and he could break the door down if he really wanted to.

you inhaled a deep breathe before reaching for the knob and unlocking the door. kai pushed it open, just enough for his body to walk in before he slammed the door shut again.

his sharp eyes stayed on your face for a good minute, and then trailed down your naked body, which was soaking under the shower head.

kai stepped forward, his hand reaching for your jaw and grabbing both of your cheeks in a single hand. "come on, y/n. you know better than to bring a third person between what we have." he breathed down onto your lips, letting the shower rain down on his fully clothed body.

you swallowed thickly, your body burning under his gaze, how he didn't care if you were naked and walked in any way.

"and, what do we have exactly, kai?" you managed to let out, your gaze fixed up onto him as he towered over you.

kai chuckled under his breathe and tightened his fingers around your face, "want me to give you a preview?" he rasped and leaned lower, letting his lips brush over yours.

you knew that you can't run from this, you didn't even want to. it hardly took a few minutes for kai's clothes to join yours on the door's hooks, and your front to end up pressed against the wall with kai behind you.

inside you.

he kissed you first, his hands mapping out your body like it belonged to him. "you didn't mind him touching you.." he repeated against your jaw as he pumped two of his long fingers in and out of you.

"he-"

"no, y/n. doesn't matter if he was spotting you, he had his fucking hands on you." he basically growled in your ear as you moaned at the way his fingers curled inside you.

kai kept his other hand around your neck, which he then used to turn you around and press your face against the wall. "no one gets to touch you like that. just me." he whispered as he pushed the head of his hardened cock between your folds.

your knees trembled at the feeling and your forehead rested against the wall as he slid himself further inside your heat. the warm water only adding to the heat of the moment, tricking down your back and between your legs, where his body was merged with yours.

kai watched as your fingers tried to cling onto the wall when he pulled himself out and drove halfway back in, "only i get to have my hands on you, y/n." he grunted, tightening his fingers on your neck and moving the other to rest on your ass.

your walls clenched around him at the possessive tone of his voice, only encouraging him to shove himself deeper inside you. "fuck, even you tight little pussy knows that only i get to fuck her." he panted, his hips now setting a rythm and rocking to it.

"kai.." you mewled, almost worried that someone would walk inside the shower room and catch you both. but, that only thrilled kai, getting to display his claim on you, out and about.

his hips only moved faster, snapping against yours with every harsh thrust he gave you. kai squeezed your ass, "mhm, that's who you belong to." he tugged your head back, using his hold on your neck, and grinned against your ear.

kai proved his point by littering the side of your neck with hickeys, sucking and biting onto your skin like a man starved.

the sound of the shower was accompanied with your moans and kai's groans as he watched your knees buck and your cum glaze his cock. and, he continued to ram into you until he himself came all over your ass.

"the next time you forget that, i'll give you more than just a preview." he whispered and pressed a kiss against you shoulder.

___

(i'm like half asleep, don't even question this)

[dead-boys-club]

†  do you love me? : the fatui.

❥ scenario: their mute s/o asking if they love them. ❥ no triggers ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ requested. [ my pending isn't updated, it's a liar. ]

you had thought over it for a while, curious as to where you actually stood with your lover, no.. partner? did they love you? as your curiosity grew to a sickening need for an answer, you decided to write your question down, small and neat; 'do you love me?' before approaching to hand the paper off.

❥ la signora.

as she took the paper from you, you'd be unable to read her expression, something that was awfully common. you couldn't help but become slightly anxious as a few moments of silence went by, giving her the time to process the question. you had learned that signora was a very complex someone, someone who was guarded and difficult to read, but you had grown to understand those things about her. when she finally looked to you, there was a warmth in her gave and she set the paper down, now folded in half. she wouldn't have much to say, a simple 'yes' being whispered, full of sincerity and adoration for you, even if her expression didn't match. she reached out to cup your cheeks, the touch tender with her gloved hands, and she leaned to press a kiss to your forehead. it wasn't easy for her to express how she felt but she would never allow you to live with doubts on how she felt for you.

❥ scaramouche.

unlike signora, scara's response would be heavily complicated. he would be reluctant to take the paper to begin with, his expression immediately showing discomfort and clear distaste. love had never been something that worked out for him very well, nor did he understand it as much as others - love was one of the reasons his life had been filled with betrayal and manipulation. he was wary of emotions to begin with but love held a different kind of weight - it was almost like the word alone left a bitter taste at the back of his throat. he would quickly narrow his sharp eyes, masking the vulnerability with agitation. 'what kind of stupid question is this?' it would have hurt you had their been any malice to his tone. even as he crumpled up the paper and tossed it away, you could see some type of softness slipping through the cracks. it would take time but after a few minutes, he'd glance to you, gaze softening slightly. 'i don't know,' he admitted, voice quiet as he decided to be honest, 'i don't know if that's something i'm capable of but.. i don't hate you, if that's what you're worried about.' for scara, that was the closest thing to a confession you'd be getting and you understood and accepted that. besides.. he was a lot better with his actions than his words, even if he didn't realize.

❥ childe.

childe is always happy to accept your notes, be it during full conversations, asking him about missions, and so forth. with that happy expectation, he took the paper, only to falter briefly before a warm smile formed. 'of course i do,' he answered without hesitation. he'd wave the little piece of paper between two fingers before setting it down, 'this is a silly question.' he wasn't being demeaning, just pointing out what he thought - hoped - was obvious to you. his arms would find their way around you, hugging you close to lift you off your feet with a soft chuckle. 'why would you even feel the need to ask that?' childe had always done everything in his power to make sure his love was open and honest, being hidden from no one because he never wanted you to doubt him. he would actually wonder if he'd done something wrong that lead you to asking but it would be put on the back burner for later. 'you're one of the most important people in my life,' he whispered as he set you down, pressing a kiss right below your ear, 'and, i'll always love you.'

❥ dottore.

you knew such a question could leave you with an aching heart but you'd prepared yourself before hand, knowing the day you agreed to be the doctor's lover, it may not be in such a manner. as he took the paper from you, he read over it with an impassive expression, which you'd expected nothing less. minutes passed as he worked through your question. love was not something dottore considered valuable - emotions, in general, were considered a hindrance to him. love, most of all, was the worst there was. the paper was set down without an answer as he returned to his work, leaving you lost and hurt, despite knowing this would be the outcome. you began to turn on your heel to leave when he glanced to you. 'love is a trivial thing,' he said coldly, almost bitter. 'it's a distraction and a weakness.' you stopped yourself from frowning. contrasting his words, as you looked closely at him, you found something - a hint of conflict that told you there was more he wasn't willing to acknowledge. dottore never was one to answer things directly but his actions - his way of keeping you close, keeping you safe and granting you attention in ways no one else was allowed - that was enough, you decided.

❥ arlecchino.

she would take the paper from you and take no time in reading it, her expression calm. she isn't brought to emotional response easily - you were sure you'd never seen her flustered. she set the paper down with a thoughtful hum before looking at you, her gaze gentle. 'love isn't something i give easily or take lightly,' she answered, steady and serious, 'but if i didn't care for you deeply, you would not be here.' in another of situation or context, you'd have taken the words as a threat but instead, they calmed any frayed nerves. arle's way of showing how she feels is protective and pragmatic, something that doesn't rely on cheap words. she wouldn't give flowery words or pointless gestures - but she would make sure you felt valued in your relationship. 'yes, i do.' she finally admitted, her tone leaving no room for doubt, even as she turned away from you. 'you are mine, and i protect what's mine.'

❥ columbina.

immediately going off of your facial expression, she knew she didn't need to read the paper to know the type of question you had, a gentle, knowing smile forming. columbina is the most attuned to emotions, her own and others, especially yours. she would quickly be able to feel the vulnerability and doubt behind your written word. without hesitation, she collected your hand in her own, making sure to hold your gaze. 'yes,' she said easily, 'i love you more than words will ever be able to express.' columbina leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. 'you needn't doubt that,' she whispered, letting your hand go only to pull you into a hug, her eyes closing, 'i always will, beloved.' her love was soft, open and nurturing, a presence that never ceased and you almost felt guilty for doubting her. she had done her best to make sure you felt cherished and adored and she would continue to do so.

❥ pantalone.

he wouldn't question why you were suddenly handing him paper but he would be curious, eyes shining with interest as he read the question. panta is a man who sees emotions as secondary to his ambitions and goals, especially with his wealth and power. however, he wouldn't hesitate to admit that you, are different. this may be something that lead you to thinking you were more of a possession than a lover - he would be smart enough to figure out where the doubt blossomed from. folding the paper neatly, he set it down and let a thoughtful smile show, turning his attention to you. 'love, like any valuable asset, is not something i take lightly,' he began, head tilting slightly, 'but you, my dear.. are more precious than anything to me.' reaching out to you, his fingertips brushed over the apple of your cheek. 'yes,' he answered directly, 'i love you, and i will make sure you never doubt that again.' like the others, panta's love is often expressed through actions - keeping you comfortable and safe, your happiness being of utmost importance to him.

❥ il capitano.

he would take the paper without a second thought, reading the words slowly and feeling the weight of them. it would take him a moment to find how to answer, knowing if he was careless, it would bring you unnecessary hurt. love has never been something capitano was accustomed to, not when his life was outlined and defined by duty, loyalty and the cold fate of a soldier. he briefly wondered if love was something he could feel or understand. would he know if he was in love? after what seemed like an eternity, he would slowly set the paper down and look to you, speaking just as careful. 'love is a concept i have little experience with,' he began, his tone apologetic, 'i do care for you, deepy.. your wellbeing, your happiness. i want to keep you safe.' his answer would be straightforward, almost as though he was searching through his own words. he wished he could use the same pretty, poetic words he'd heard in passing, but that wasn't possible. 'if that is love,' he nodded slowly, 'then, yes, i do love you.' he wouldn't be as confident in those words as he wanted to be but he felt as thought it was as close to what you wanted to hear as he could get.

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.

Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.

She deserved more for putting up with him. 

More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 

He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…

Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 

Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 

Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 

Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 

Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.

Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.

"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."

Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."

Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."

Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.

“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.

Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”

He highly doubted that.

And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.

Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*

*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*

“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."

Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 

If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 

“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.

Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.

*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*

*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.

Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 

It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."

Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*

“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.

Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."

Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."

Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”

Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.

And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.

And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.

Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 

He was moving before he was even thinking. 

*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.

Azriel was already running.

Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.

Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.

Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.

He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.

He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...

It was a mass of wood and rubble.

He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.

His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.

He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...

He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.

There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.

Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...

Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."

"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.

"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."

Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.

"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.

"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.

Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."

And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.

Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.

He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.

"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.

"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.

His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.

"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.

She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...

No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."

But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...

“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.

He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.

“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.

“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”

Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.

He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."

He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.

"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."

He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.

It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.

It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."

And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.

Just look at him.

And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.

And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.

The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.

He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.

He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.

He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.

"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."

The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...

Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.

Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.

She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.

He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.

He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...

“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”

"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.

He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."

He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."

He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.

“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.

Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."

He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.

Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.

“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.

“My room,” he corrected.

The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.

“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.

“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.

Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 

“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

[txniesha]

Complication Sylus x Non!MC reader pt.4

A/N: hey yall I’m back!!! It’s been a crazy month honestly. I’ve been working my ass off, I got a new dog and he’s bad asf, and moving in is just sooo stressful. Also this damn dog chewed up fuckibg MacBook charger so I don’t have a laptop until I get another one, i hate writing on my phone that’s why this chapter is so short. But here’s part 4 for yall!! Yk I think I spelt Kieran’s name wrong the entire time…

Synopsis: You thought you would be able to get away from him, but it’s never that easy.

Word count: 1420

CW: emotional manipulation, stalking, threats of violence

Pt.5

Zayne had left early that morning as he had to be at the hospital for surgery. He kissed you gently on the forehead and smiled “Text me if you need anything, I'll get back to you as soon as I can” he said before leaving. When he left all, you could think about was the phone call from Sylus that you got the night before. His words haunted you as you knew what he was capable of when he wanted something. What you didn't get is why he still thought he deserved you let alone was entitled to you when he clearly was infatuated with her.  You got up and started to pack your things realizing if you were going to stay in Linkon, you had to get somewhere where he didn't know where you were.  

That was easier said than done, considering the fact you knew no one in Linkon besides Zayne and....him. He was a regular at the lounge, usually coming in there alone looking for information. N109 was an information hub after all and there was no better place to get good reliable information than the lounge run by Onychinus themselves. You had a habit of getting close to regulars who were cute and seemed reliable. You went and picked your shattered phone up off the floor hoping and praying it would come on. It did turn on, so you dialed his number putting it on speaker, so you didn't hold the broken glass on your ear; it rang for a long time before a soft groggy voice answered with a hello. “Hey, Xavier! This is [name], I'm in Linkon and needed help with a thing or two” He lets out a soft sigh and you can hear him shift around in his bed. “Yea what is it” he says his voice calm and deep.  

You explained to him the situation, well not all of it, but enough for him to get the idea. He lets out a soft chuckle “sounds like quite the predicament, but yea you can stay for as long as you need” You thank him and hang up the phone, it dings a second later with the address. It didn't take you long to gather your things considering that most of it was already in a suitcase. You hurriedly checked out of the hotel, checking over your shoulder every second in fear of Sylus being right behind you. You felt like someone was watching you but every time you looked to see there was no one. You entered your taxi quickly, making sure that the number on the license plate matched the one you booked. You couldn't take any chances with a man like Sylus. He had so many people in his pocket that you felt as if you couldn't trust anyone.  

The ride to Xaviers place from the hotel was quicker than you expected. Linkon was a big city, so you didn't expect him to live close to where you were at all. You thanked the taxi driver, giving him a tip as he helped you get your bag and then made your way to his building, clicking the third floor in the elevator to his floor. You found the apartment ‘305’ and composed yourself before you knocked on the door. It opened after a moment showing a groggy and shirtless Xavier, lose sweatpants hanging off his hips and that ever so neutral look on his face. You smile at him, “sorry didn't mean to wake you” he shrugs moving to grab your suitcase lifting the heavy thing effortlessly. “Its fine, I just didn't expect you so soon” he says his voice calm and deeper then normal. You chalked it up to him just waking and followed him inside.  

His apartment was cozier than you expected. The neutral tones of tan and white offsite by the vast amount of lush green plants was surprising. The walls were lined with books, vinyl's, and more plotted plants. “You really have a green thumb don't you” you say with a smile “sorry to barge in like this” you say apologize again. He doesn't say anything but just walks over to you holding two cups of coffee and hands one to you. You thanked him, taking a sip, it was sweeter than you expected.  He just nods and sits next to you. He took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes dragging over you, not with hunger like you were used to, but curiosity. You’d always been a bit of a mystery to him in the lounge. Friendly, flirty, but distant. Now here you were, cracked and worn at the edges. “Are you okay” he says in his usual tone. You hesitate for a moment and then nod putting the cup on the coffee table. “Yea, I'm just a little tired, didn't get much sleep last night” he stares at you for a second before once again nodding. You forgot just how quiet he could be sometimes.  

You two sat in silence for a while, sipping on the hot drinks. He finally speaks up, “You’re running from him, right?” he asks looking at you. Your breath hitches and you look away suddenly feeling uncomfortable. How could he know that it was Sylus. “I don't know who you’re talking about” you say feigning ignorance. He lets out a small scoff “You work for Onychinus even if it is only at a bar; The only person that could have you this afraid is him” he says his voice now taking on a different tone “if you're in danger you need to let me know, I can make sure you're safe” his hand finds its way to your arm and gives it a soft reassuring squeeze. You still refused to look at him, afraid he would see right through you. You shrugged his hand off and pull your knees up to your chest trying to comfort yourself. “I really don’t want to talk about it honestly” you say looking away.

Xavier didn’t push. He just sat there beside you, the noises of the city filtering in through his slightly cracked windows making it not completely silent. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was heavy with everything you weren’t ready to say. Youb finally sighed, “is there somewhere i can smoke?” you ask him with a sigh after a while. He looks at you his eyebrow raised, “you smoke? I never seen you do that at the lounge.” you let out a laugh at this “it's because at the lounge I have to keep up appearances?” He lets out a small laugh, the sound soft and refreshing, “Sure just go out of that door out to the patio, try not to burn any of the plants” You rise from the couch and go out to the patio. The patio was beautiful, covered in big, beautiful plants of all colors. You leaned against the railing and lit up your cigarette, finally feeling a sense of relief as the nicotine stick filled your lungs.  

You were enjoying your cigarette when a giant crow landed right next to you where you were on the railing. It scares the shit out of you causing you to let out a scream. The bird didn't move, just stood staring at you as you screamed in fear at the giant thing. It didn't look natural, its eyes were red, and it had this almost metallic gleam to it as if all of it wasnt fully a bird. Xavier came running out of the apartment at lighting speed, looking around for the threat. He was a bit disappointed to see a giant bird sitting on the railing instead of an actual threat. The bird observed him for a moment before taking off into flight silently.

The cigarette fell out of your hands; they were shaking uncontrollably. Xavier stepped beside you, observing the space around you. “That wasnt just a bird” he says his tone taking a serious tone. You nod your head in agreement. It was clear that thing was sent here. That would mean that he found you faster than you expected. “Xavier, I have to go. Its not safe here anymore” you say panic rising in you. You turn quickly from him and start walking back into the apartment. He follows you, catching your arm once you were both fully inside. He turns you around to face him, the neutral look he always had now replaced with one of genuine concern. “You’re not going anywhere. Obviously, he's looking for you. I can protect you, I promise.”  

He convinced you to stay, the promise of his protection being enough to win you over, but nothing could ease the fear and anxiety you felt. You had never done anything like this before with Sylus, so the thought of what he would do terrified you. You knew he would never physically do anything to hurt you but you were still afraid. You sat on the couch, nervously picking at your nails. The nails that were once groomed to perfection yesterday were chipped, some even broken off, from all the anxiety induced biting you did to them over the past hours not even realizing. Your phone buzzed beside you; you almost didn't pick it up fearing it was Sylus but was confused to see an unknown number calling. You looked over to Xavier who had somehow fallen asleep next to you.  

You answer the phone a little confused, “hello?” you say cautiously. It was a moment of silence before the person spoke up. “So you are trying to hide from me” his deep voice says. There was a sense of playfulness imbued within the statement. You tense up not wanting to say anything. “This is unlike you, to be testing me in such a way. I would find it irritating if you weren't making this so fun” he says in his usual calm voice, you could almost hear the smile that was on his face. “I'm not hiding” you lie, the words sounding unbelievable even to yourself. He chuckles at the statement “You could at least sound like you've convinced yourself of that little lie.” You groan in frustration “why are you doing this Sylus! Everything you've done since you came back from your little disappearing act has been for her.” He lets out a tsk “Don't make this about her, she has nothing to do with your actions” he says the irritation starting to creep in trough every word. “If it wasnt for her we wouldn't even be where we are now” you snap.  

He sighs “I didn't call you to argue about petty things. You don't have a choice anymore. Comeback willingly or I'll just have to come and get you” Your breath hitches and look over to Xavier who was still sleeping peacefully. “And don't think he can save you” he says and then the line goes dead. Yiu sat there in silence for a moment and then moved to get up. You didn't want to put Xavier in harm's way so you thought it would be best to follow what Sylus says. As soon as you moved to get up from the couch Xavier grabs your arm. You look at him and he was wide awake now “Sit down, don't move.”  he says sternly. “Xavier, I have-” he silenced you with just one look that showed that he was being serious. You decided that you've had enough of testing these dangerous men and sat back down without arguing. He doesn't say anything else and jsut closes his eyes laying his head back against the head of the couch.  His hand was still wrapped around your arm, not tightly but just firm enough to let you know not to try anything else.

You look over at Xavier his eyes still shit, you knew he wasnt asleep. His hand traced soft circles on your wrist, it was almost as if he was trying to calm your nerves. “Xavier he's-” you start. “I know” he says his eyes still closed. You leave it there not wanting to discuss it any further. “hes not someone that scares me so you have nothing to worry about” he finally says. You just nod and close your eyes, not wanting to think about this any longer. Outside the apartment across the street, Mephisto sat still. He was watching ytou both closely, waiting on his masters next step.  

You didn't realize you fell asleep, until you woke up to what sounded like creaking in the apartment. You opened your eyes, the place was pitch black aside from the trails of moonlight streaming in from the peaks of the semi open curtains. You felt Xaviers hand on your wrist tighten and you could guess that it wasnt him that made the floorboards of the apartment creak. “Knock knock, anyone home” you hear a playful voice call out in the darkness “idiot you're supposed to actually knock first” you hear the same voice say. Your breathing quickens at the familiarity of the voices. Xaviers grip on your wrist was now lethal and you say a flash of light emitting from his side. The light now lit up the apartment and you saw the figure, well figures. There stood two familiar faces, well mask, of Luke and Keiran. You stood quickly bringing Xavier up with you. “Happy to see us boss lady” the playful voice of you recognized as Luke spoke up. Xavier steps Infront of you, his sword made of his evol positioned in front of him.  

“Ohhh scary” Keiran's voice says playfully “i bet it makes your bones vibrate when it slices through it” he adds. Xaviers grip tightens, and his voice was deathly serious now, a tone you had never heard before “Its only one way to find out” He swings the sword, but Keiran moves quicker, avoiding the swing of gracefully. “Woah man we’re here under strict orders from the boss man. He didn't say fight only to retrieve” You scoff “if he sent you two, he expected blood shed” you say. Luke gasps in mock offense “Rude! He sent us because we know how valuable you are to him” Keiran shakes his head in agreement “if you don't come back with us the boss man may just break down in tears, you wouldn't want our poor boss to be sad would he” Keiran say putting his hand over his heart.  

“Shes not going anywhere” Xavier says. Luke groans and throws his arms int he air “Who even are you! You're really starting to get on my nerves” Lukes's voice becomes serious when saying the last sentence. This was bad, really bad. If you didn't go with them who knew what they would do to Xavier. The twins were fun sure but were true sadist at heart. “The boss is getting impatient” Keiran says his voice no longer playful either, as Mephisto comes and lands on the window seal that was wide open. You sigh and make your decision. You manage to pull your hand out of Xaviers grip and the way he reached back out to catch it broke something in you. Luke got to you first though pulling you towards him. “Xavier, if I don't go with them now, next time he sends them they won't be in a playful mood” you say to him. Luke and Keiran both nod in unison. “He would chew us out so bad we would have no choice but to take it out on you” Keiran says shrugging his shoulders. Mephisto caws loudly and Luke and Keiran both look at each other “welp time to go, playtimes over.” Keiran says. They drag you to the door as you tried not to look back at Xavier “also don't try to follow us pretty boy, Boss won't be too nice next time” Luke says as they close the apartment door behind them.  

 

As they walk you out of the apartment you shrug their hands off “Where is he?” you say irritated. “Chilllll boss lady, you'll see him soon enough” Luke says. “You know you're his favorite; he's been going crazy these past few days” Keiran says as they lead you to a car. They opened the door to the back seat and there sat Sylus. “Look who willingly decided to come with us boss!!” Luke says cheerfully. Sylus just smirks and nods. “We’ll make sure the grey-haired freak upstairs doesn't try anything” Keiran says ushering you inside. Sylus doesn’t say anything he just watches you slide into the seat next to him. You flinch slightly as the door slams shut.  

His fingers trail the side of your arm, making you tense up in anticipation of his next actions. Hes quiet at first, as his gloved hand traced invisible lines on your arm. His touch was soft and deliberate and made you feel as if he was leaving a trail of fire from how hot it was. “You could have at least called and told me you were leaving” he says his voice terrifyingly calm. “Don't you think I out of anyone deserves a goodbye” You don't respond, you didn't even want to look at him. The space in the car felt a lot smaller under his intense gaze. His fingers trail back up your arm, the gloved hand lightly wrapping around your throat lightly. His fingers press into your jaw tightly and he forces you to look at him. “I should be angry, hell I should be livid honestly” he says quietly his face getting closer to yours “But the way you looked under him last night tells me i need to try harder with you” You could feel the color drain out of your face at the realization of him knowing. You shouldn't care about what he knows and how he feels about it but you are all too aware of the consequences of his feelings.  

“What do you want me to say to that” you shoot at him and he tsk at your attitude. “You dont have to say anything” he says his grip tightening slightly and his thumb caress to and you could sense his irritation. “But….you are going to feel the consequences of trying to leave”

He lets go of your face and taps the privacy window between the two of you and the driver. The car starts up and starts to move at a steady speed. He reaches over buckling you into your seatbelt. He grabs your face and makes you face him again as he speaks “But for now, just enjoy the drive” he says softly and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

tags: @sillyfreakfanparty @crimsonmarabou @z3vl @96jnie @perqbeth @justpassingdontworry @malleus-draconias-rose @sleepykittyenergy @aboobie @syluslittlecrows @scrambledhuevos79 @madam8 @fandomenbylover@insidious-innocence @etherealsoul90 @xsammijoanneex @acasualattempt  @sylusgirlie7 @jasperjokester @animegamerfox @jae48 @goldenbirdiee @zoezhive @rxelarailuj @huuvu @simphoursonly  @athanasia-day @asakiyu @thirstblogforaparchedgirl @eolivy @caramelizedpopcirn @auraficial @dilf-destroyer-04

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

𝕊𝕜𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: Mutual Friendship, Hinted Mutual Crush, College Au

⚠️Warnings⚠️: None

Word count: 769

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 [10:45 PM] - "Should I be worried that you know how to replicate fake blood this well? I probably should be, right?" Jinwoo jokes as he enters your dorm room.

You decided to be a killer playboy bunny for the Halloween party tonight. The five-kitchen ingredient mixture drips from your neck as only moments ago you finished your makeup.

"If you want to get bloody tonight, I've got enough to share." You chuckle, placing the bowl of red liquid on your desk. "Where's your costume?"

Originally, it was supposed to be you and your best friend. She got hit with a bad stomach virus the night before and was still in recovery.

He offered to be your plus one once you gave him the news. It's somewhat of a favor he owed you from before. He's dressed in a black cotton button-down, partially unbuttoned, with matching black jeans. Black high-top Chuck Taylor's on his feet.

"My package got delayed, so no Ghostface mask. You're my plan B."

"Plan B?"

He takes a seat at your desk, crossing his arms as he leans back into your chair. "You've got any ideas?"

You squint, trying to picture a look on him. Something that would take no time at all.

"A Skeleton." You snap your fingers, having an 'aha' moment.

His mouth curled into a smile as he nodded, lifting his shoulder in a half shrug. Digging through your makeup bag, whatever wasn't in there was strewn about.

Your posters, tapestries, and post-it notes with reminders and daily affirmations on them catch his attention. Everything had a similar color palette, from your sheets to your laundry basket to your rug beside your bed. It made him wish he'd stop by more often.

"Do you want me to paint your neck and chest too?" You asked, sizing him up as you organized your brushes and body paints.

Your question hangs in the air. He hasn't had his face painted since he was a child. Tonight was the one night he could be truly himself. Carefree and stupid like every other twentysomething. Based on your makeup alone, he knows he's in good, capable hands.

Jinwoo scoots forward in your chair.

"Yeah, go all out. Make me a skeleton."

You smirk, standing between his legs. Raking your fingers through his hair, you attach two larger hair clips. His exposed forhead meets a cooling sensation from your primer. Its slushy to then tacky consistency threw him off.

You trace a black outline around his eye sockets, whispering for him to close his eyes. He does so, allowing you to deepen the shadows. Drawing on his nasal cavities and each tooth across his upper and lower lip, you're deathly close. Your thumb smudges away any mistakes, much to his confusion. He almost thought you were doing it on purpose. Almost.

Down his neck, your thin brush goes as he twitches a tad. "Are you ticklish?" You take a go at him. There was no reply. He merely blinks and scoffs.

You keep going, carving out each spinel vertebrae. From the cervical to the thoracic vertebra, brushstrokes flowed into his ribcage. His toned chest surprises but doesn’t shock you. Guess all that excessive training paid off.

"Tell me, what made you take this route this year?" A cheeky grin plastered across his face. "Never would've thought you were one for the classics."

"Classic easy access, you mean?" You joke, applying the white body paint next. It fills in the shaped skull of his face like an X-ray. Your brush strokes earn another twitch out of him.

"Jin, quit moving, or you're gonna look like shit." You huff, sucking your teeth.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I can't help it. It feels weird."

His mischievous glint in his eyes trails up and down your neck and exposed chest.

"I guess I'm playing guard dog tonight, too? All things considered?"

"If you're looking for an excuse to kick some guy's ass for looking at me too hard, be my guest. You don't need my permission."

You straightened your stance, making sure every marking was symmetrical. Up went your thumb. It splits his face into two halves. Closing your right eye, your tongue sticks out from between your lips.

He leans his head to the left, taking your thumb in his larger hand and pulling you forward.

"Whaddaya doing?"

"Admiring my work, you're one hell of a canvas." You thread a hand through his hair, removing the hair clips. His bangs flow back where they were.

Jinwoo rises from your chair. His hand never lets go of yours, nor does he break his gaze.

"Paint me again sometime, yeah?"

If you enjoyed it, please comment, like, and reblog!

Divider created by @cafekitsune

A/N - HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

[amkyor]

Heya! Some ideas for mha guys reacting to:

Reader using a pickup line on them

Reader comforting them after a nightmare

Reader saying "I love you" for the first time

Reader giving them a handmade gift

Reader pranking them

MHA GUYS REACT TO...

Reader using a pickup line on them ᡣ𐭩

Short note: I'm sorry if most of them aren't pickup lines, I just didn't want to use cheesy lines like that :) I will be doing all of the suggestions though. Stay tuned!! Also, chapter 21 of my bakguo x Reader Fanfiction came out yesterday. Go check it out!! Link is that the very end of this post!!

Katsuki Bakugo ᡣ𐭩

The soft clinking of pots and pans filled the kitchen as Bakugo stood at the stove, focused on dinner.

His broad back was turned to you, muscles subtly flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt with each movement.

You were sprawled out on the couch in the living room, but the sight of him—effortlessly domestic yet somehow still rugged—was too tempting to resist.

The sight of him—focused, composed, and utterly unbothered by the domestic task—was oddly mesmerizing.

You watched him for a moment, the way his broad shoulders flexed with each movement, his ash-blond hair sticking up in its usual chaotic way.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you thought about how far you’d both come, from chaotic high school days to quiet moments like this.

Unable to resist, you got up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen.

As you approached, you leaned against the doorway and crossed your arms, watching him for another moment.

“You know,” you started, your voice breaking the silence, “you’re surprisingly good at this cooking thing. Who knew the big aggressive Katsuki Bakugo would be so…domesticated.”

He didn’t turn around, but you could see the corner of his lips twitch. “Shut it, woman,” he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“I’ve always been good at everything. Don’t act so surprised.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, stepping closer. “But cooking? I thought explosions were more your style.”

He glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at you. “Cooking’s just another kind of chemistry, dumbass. And unlike you, I don’t burn water.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable in the kitchen.”

“Sure you are,” he said, turning back to his pan with a low chuckle.

“Whatever,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

After a few seconds, you stepped closer to him, the sound of your footsteps muted against the floor as you approached him.

Closing the distance, you slipped your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

His body tensed slightly at the contact before relaxing when he realized what was going on.

“Do you always look this hot while cooking,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, “or is it just the stove?”

For a moment, Bakugo froze. His hand, mid-motion stirring a pan, stopped abruptly.

You could feel the slight hitch in his breathing, and you knew you’d caught him off guard.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he muttered under his breath, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

Without responding further, he reached over and turned off the stove with a decisive flick of his wrist.

Before you could react, he spun around to face you, his crimson eyes locking with yours.

His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze sent a wave of heat through your body.

“What are you—” you started, but he didn’t let you finish.

In one swift motion, Bakugo leaned down, wrapped his arms around your wasit and thigh, and effortlessly lifted you off the ground.

A surprised laugh escaped your lips as he carried you over to the kitchen counter.

He set you down gently, his hands bracketing your thighs as he leaned in close.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

His face was inches from yours, his smirk equal parts cocky and affectionate.

“I don’t think,” you replied, matching his tone. “I know.”

He let out a quiet scoff before closing the distance between you.

His lips captured yours in a deep, heated kiss that sent your heart racing.

His hands stayed firmly planted on either side of your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted you.

The kiss was over too quickly, though, as Bakugo pulled back, his lips barely brushing yours. “Stay put,” he muttered, his voice a little hoarser than usual.

You blinked, still reeling from the kiss, as he turned back to the stove.

Casually, as if nothing had happened, he turned the burner back on and resumed cooking.

“Seriously?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, a small, smug grin tugging at his lips. “What? Gotta finish dinner, don’t I?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re distracting,” he shot back, his tone light but still carrying that signature Bakugo edge.

Despite his words, you could see the faint blush dusting his cheeks, and it made your heart swell.

You stayed perched on the counter, watching him cook, a smile playing on your lips.

Even when he was gruff and tough, there were moments like this that reminded you just how much he cared.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

Izuku Midoriya ᡣ𐭩

The dim glow of the television bathed the living room in a soft, warm light.

The faint hum of background music filled the air, mingling with the soothing rustle of pages as you turned another in the book resting in your hands.

It was one of those quiet, perfect evenings—the kind you cherished most.

Izuku lay sprawled between your legs, his broad frame draped over you like a human-sized weighted blanket.

His head rested comfortably against your chest, rising and falling with each steady breath you took.

His arms were wrapped securely around your waist, and his fingers splayed lazily across your back as if anchoring himself to you.

Your legs stretched out on the couch, framing him on either side.

The soft fabric of his shirt brushed against your skin with every slight movement he made.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this position, but neither of you seemed in any hurry to move.

With your free hand, you absentmindedly scratched at his scalp, your nails trailing through his unruly green curls in slow, gentle strokes.

Each time your fingers grazed his scalp, you felt him relax further into you, his body melting into yours like he was made to fit there.

The weight of him against you was comforting, grounding, and you couldn’t help but smile as you continued reading.

Well, “reading” might’ve been a stretch.

You’d been stuck on the same page for the past five minutes, distracted by the soft, contented hums Izuku made whenever your nails caught just the right spot.

He hadn’t said much since he collapsed onto you, but you could tell he was enjoying himself.

His breathing was slow and even, a telltale sign that he was teetering on the edge of sleep.

You glanced down at him, your gaze drifting from the slight pout of his lips to the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

His freckles stood out even more in the dim light, scattered across his face like a constellation you’d memorized long ago.

You raised your book slightly, letting it rest against the couch as you took in the sight of him.

He looked so peaceful, so utterly at ease, that you almost didn’t want to disturb him. Almost.

“You tired?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle him.

“Mhm...” he hummed, his eyes still closed as he nuzzled further into your chest.

The sound was low and warm, vibrating against you like a gentle purr.

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, his lashes fluttering slightly as if he were fighting to stay awake.

You continued scratching his head, your fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles.

You knew how hard he worked and how much he pushed himself every day.

Seeing him like this—relaxed, vulnerable, and utterly content—felt like a rare gift.

He shifted slightly, tightening his hold on your waist as though he were afraid you might slip away.

The action made your chest ache in the best way, and you couldn’t help but brush a soft kiss against the crown of his head.

You studied his face for a moment longer, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips as an idea popped into your head.

You couldn’t resist.

"You know," you began playfully, your voice teasing and light...

You smiled softly, the corners of your lips curling upward as you gazed at Izuku’s serene face.

The moment felt suspended in time, wrapped in the tender quiet of the living room.

The faint glow of the television cast shifting shadows across his features, making him look even softer than usual.

With a warm chuckle, you let the words slip from your lips, their sincerity surprising even you. “I don’t know what it is, but you have this way of making everything around you feel softer.”

Izuku’s eyes fluttered open at your voice, blinking slowly as he adjusted to the light.

His emerald gaze, still slightly hazy with the remnants of sleep, met yours.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable yet filled with an unspoken tenderness.

You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you leaned a little closer, your fingers still trailing through his hair as you added softly, “How are you so good at making ordinary moments feel special?”

Your chuckle was light, almost self-conscious, but genuine. It broke the silence like a gentle ripple across still water.

Izuku’s reaction was immediate and heartwarming.

His cheeks flushed a deep pink, the color spreading all the way to the tips of his ears.

His lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to respond, but no words came out at first.

Instead, he buried his face further into your chest, letting out a muffled groan.

“Y-You can’t just say things like that,” he mumbled, his voice low and slightly hoarse.

Despite the protest in his words, there was no mistaking the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, the sound light and melodic in the quiet room. “Why not? It’s true,” you teased, your tone playful but laced with sincerity.

Izuku lifted his head slightly, just enough to look up at you. His eyes were impossibly soft, brimming with affection that made your chest tighten.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, your hand moving to cup his cheek.

His skin was warm under your touch, and he leaned into your palm instinctively, like a sunflower seeking the sun.

“I just wanted you to know.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The room was filled only with the soft hum of the television and the gentle rhythm of your breathing.

Izuku’s hand found yours where it rested against his cheek, his fingers curling around yours as if anchoring himself to the moment.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. “For saying that. For... being you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Always,” you whispered against his skin.

Izuku’s arms tightened around your waist as he buried his face against your chest once more.

“You’re the one who makes everything feel special,” he murmured, his voice muffled but no less sincere.

You smiled, your fingers resuming their comforting motion through his hair.

The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket, and you realized that no matter how ordinary the moment, being with him made it extraordinary.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

Shoto Todoroki ᡣ𐭩

The warm glow of the small lamp in the corner of the room cast soft, golden hues across the walls, giving the space a cozy and intimate ambiance.

You were seated on the floor in your apartment, cross-legged on the plush rug, with Todoroki sitting directly across from you.

His mismatched eyes watched you curiously, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips as he observed the items you’d brought back from the bathroom.

In your hands were two face masks—both contained in sleek, colorful pouches—and a pair of headbands.

You had been gifted the masks a few days ago by a friend who swore they were amazing for relaxation, and the idea of doing them with Todoroki had popped into your head immediately.

Surprisingly, he had agreed without hesitation, his calm demeanor making it clear he didn’t mind indulging you in small things like this.

"Alright," you said, breaking the silence as you placed everything on the floor between you. "First things first, we need to keep our hair out of the way."

Todoroki’s gaze shifted to the headbands, his brows furrowing slightly. “We’re wearing those?” he asked, his tone neutral but laced with faint curiosity.

You chuckled, holding one up for him to see. “Yes, we are. Unless you want face mask goo in your hair, which I’m guessing you don’t.”

He tilted his head slightly, considering your words before nodding. “Fair enough.”

With a smile, you picked up the other headband and slipped it over your own head.

The stretchy fabric was soft against your skin as you carefully positioned it, pulling back the strands of your hair that framed your face.

You adjusted it a few times, making sure it sat just right, and then tucked any loose pieces behind your ears.

“There,” you said, sitting back and giving him a small grin. “See? Easy.”

Todoroki watched you intently, his heterochromatic eyes following your movements as if committing every detail to memory.

Though his expression remained composed, you could tell he was slightly intrigued by the whole process.

“You look cute,” he said suddenly, his tone as straightforward as ever but carrying a certain warmth that made your cheeks flush.

You laughed softly, brushing off the compliment as you reached for the second headband.

“It’s just a headband, Shoto,” you teased, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

He shrugged, leaning forward slightly as you prepared to hand him the other headband.

“Still,” he said simply, and the sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat.

Shaking off the sudden flutter in your chest, you turned your focus back to the task at hand, ready to guide him through the next step in your little self-care ritual.

You handed Todoroki the second headband, watching as he stared at it like it was some foreign object. “Just put it on like I did,” you said, demonstrating with your hands how to stretch it out and slide it over your head. He gave a small nod and attempted to mimic your movements.

The result was… less than perfect.

The headband sat askew, one side bunched up near his temple, while the other was twisted and barely holding back his hair.

A few strands stubbornly stuck out, and the sight was so adorably Todoroki that you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“You’re—” you tried to speak between giggles, “you’re not supposed to wear it like that!”

Todoroki blinked at you, completely unbothered by your amusement. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked, his tone as calm as ever.

You leaned forward, still chuckling. “Everything is wrong with it, Shoto. Here, let me fix it.”

Without waiting for his reply, you scooted closer and reached out to adjust the headband yourself.

He sat still as you worked, his eyes fixed on your face as your fingers carefully untangled the fabric and smoothed it over his head.

The world seemed to slow down as you pushed his hair back, revealing more of his face.

His dual-colored strands fell neatly under the band, and his forehead came into view, unencumbered by the usual fringe of hair.

Your movements faltered for just a moment as your eyes fell on his scar.

With his hair pulled away, it was more visible than ever, its jagged edges a stark contrast against his otherwise flawless skin.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, not out of discomfort but because of how striking he looked.

“There,” you whispered softly, finishing the adjustment and making sure the headband was sitting properly.

You were inches away from him now, your hands lingering near his face.

His mismatched eyes met yours, and for a second, neither of you moved.

Unable to help yourself, you let your fingertips brush against his cheek, your thumb instinctively tracing over the edge of his scar.

His skin was warm under your touch, and the texture of the scar was slightly raised but smooth.

“Shoto…” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

His eyes softened, and though he didn’t say anything, the way he leaned ever so slightly into your touch spoke volumes.

Todoroki’s mismatched eyes widened slightly at your words, the faintest hint of surprise flickering across his usually calm expression.

He blinked, as if trying to process the depth of what you’d just said.

For a moment, the room was silent save for the soft hum of the heater in the background.

You kept your hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing over his scar again as you offered him a warm smile. “I don’t see a flaw when I look at you; I see a story that’s made you who you are,” you said softly.

The weight of your words seemed to settle over him, and his lips parted slightly as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

“Scars are like badges of courage,” you continued, your voice filled with sincerity.

“I can tell you’ve faced something and come out stronger. That scar doesn’t take away from your beauty—it adds to it. It’s a part of you that makes you uniquely beautiful.”

His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and you could see the faintest dusting of pink creeping up his neck and settling on his cheeks.

His gaze softened further, the hard lines of his face melting away into something so tender it made your chest ache.

“You really think that?” he finally asked, his voice low and slightly hoarse.

You nodded without hesitation. “I don’t just think it, Shoto—I know it.”

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, his hand came up to rest over yours, the warmth of his palm enveloping your fingers.

He held your hand against his cheek, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a quiet gesture of gratitude and affection.

“You always know what to say,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I’ve never really thought of it that way.”

“Well, you should,” you said with a small laugh, trying to ease the intensity of the moment. “You’re pretty amazing, Shoto. Scars and all.”

His lips curved into the smallest of smiles, a genuine one that reached his eyes. “I think you’re the amazing one,” he replied, his voice still soft but filled with a kind of reverence that made your heart skip a beat.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours. “Thank you,” he whispered, the words carrying more weight than you could have imagined.

You smiled back at him, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth and love in the quiet intimacy of the moment. “Always,” you whispered back.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

Eijiro Kirishima ᡣ𐭩

It was a quiet evening, and the warm golden light of the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room.

You and Kirishima were sprawled out on the bed, each immersed in your own little worlds.

He was propped up against the headboard with a manga in his hands, his crimson hair slightly mussed from the day.

You lay on your stomach beside him, scrolling on your phone while your feet swayed lazily in the air.

The room was peaceful, the only sound being the occasional rustle of pages as Kirishima flipped through his book.

You glanced over at him, a small smile tugging at your lips as you admired how focused he looked, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

It was one of those quiet, cozy moments that you cherished, but your mischievous streak couldn’t resist stirring things up a bit.

An idea popped into your head, and you bit your bottom lip to keep from grinning too much. You shifted slightly, propping your chin on your hand as you turned your attention fully to him.

“Hey, Eiji,” you said, your voice light and playful.

Kirishima glanced up from his manga, his red eyes meeting yours. “Yeah, babe? What’s up?” he asked, his voice warm and affectionate as always.

You tilted your head, your smile growing wider. "Are you a ninja? Because you just snuck into my heart, believe it!" <those who know...>

For a moment, Kirishima just stared at you, blinking slowly as if trying to process what you had just said.

Then, his expression morphed into one of exaggerated disbelief, and he groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

"Babe, no." he said, his voice filled with mock horror. “That’s so corny.”

You burst out laughing, rolling onto your back as his reaction sent you into a fit of giggles. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad!” you said between laughs, looking up at him with teasing eyes.

Kirishima shook his head, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward in amusement.

“It was terrible,” he said, closing his manga and setting it aside. “Where do you even come up with this stuff?”

“Oh, you know,” you said, waving a hand dramatically. “I just have a natural talent for these things.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, leaning back against the headboard. “Yeah, sure. A talent for making me cringe.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Cringe? That was romantic! You just don’t appreciate my artistry.”

Kirishima laughed, his deep, hearty chuckle filling the room. “Okay, okay. Let’s hear another one, then. Show me your so-called ‘artistry.’”

You grinned, sitting up slightly as you prepared your next line. “Alright, how about this: Are you a time traveler? Because I see you in my future.”

Kirishima groaned again, throwing his head back dramatically. “Stop, you’re killing me!”

You couldn’t help but laugh even harder, clutching your stomach as you watched him squirm. “Oh, come on! That was a good one!”

“It was something,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. “You’ve got more, don’t you?”

“Oh, you bet I do,” you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, okay, here’s another: Are you a volcano? Because I lava you.”

Kirishima cringed so hard he practically slid down the bed, covering his face with his hands. “Babe, please. You’re gonna make my teeth fall out, this is so sweet it’s painful.”

You were laughing so hard at this point that you had to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye.

“Okay, last one, I promise,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. You paused for dramatic effect, then said, “Are you a bank loan? Because you’ve got my interest.”

Kirishima groaned loudly, flopping onto his side and burying his face in the pillow. “I can’t take it anymore. You’re too much!”

You were laughing uncontrollably now, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “Admit it, Eiji,” you teased, poking his side. “You secretly love it.”

He turned his head to look at you, his crimson eyes soft and full of affection despite his exaggerated protests.

“I love you,” he said, his voice quieter now, a playful smirk on his lips. “But those pickup lines? Not so much.”

You grinned, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “Fair enough,” you said, still giggling. “But don’t think for a second that I’m done embarrassing you with them.”

Kirishima laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

“As long as it makes you happy, I guess I can survive a few more,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “Just... maybe not all in one night, okay?”

You laughed, snuggling into his side as the two of you settled back into the cozy quiet of the evening, your heart full from the simple joy of being with him.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

Denki Kaminari ᡣ𐭩

It had been a quiet, peaceful afternoon.

Denki and you were lounging in your shared living room, each of you doing your own thing.

He was sprawled out on the couch, his legs stretched across the cushions, while you sat comfortably on the floor, leaning against the coffee table.

The soft hum of the TV in the background was the only noise filling the room, besides the occasional shuffling of papers or the tapping of Denki’s fingers on his phone.

You were trying to focus on the book in your hands, but every now and then, you’d sneak a glance at Denki.

You couldn’t help it.

He had this lazy, carefree vibe that made him endearing, even when he wasn’t trying.

His hair was slightly messy, as usual, and the way he was sprawled out lazily on the couch made it clear he was in one of his “relaxing” moods.

As you turned the page, you heard a soft shift in the cushions beside you.

Glancing up, you saw Denki sitting up, that familiar cheeky grin spreading across his face.

You raised an eyebrow, already sensing what was coming.

His mischievous glint in his eyes was a dead giveaway, and you could practically hear him about to ask one of his signature ridiculous questions.

He leaned forward slightly, his arms coming to rest on his knees as he locked eyes with you, his grin growing wider.

“Hey,” he said, his voice carrying that playful edge you had come to know so well. “I’ve got a question for you.”

You sighed dramatically, not even bothering to hide your exhaustion at this point. You knew exactly what was coming.

“Please tell me you aren’t about to ask me another one of your insanely stupid questions,” you replied, setting your book down with a soft thud and looking at him with an almost exasperated expression.

Denki’s grin only grew wider, clearly amused by your response. “Aw, come on! You haven’t even heard it yet!” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

You knew there was no way you could resist him, not when he looked so ridiculously charming in that moment.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but fine. What is it this time?” you asked, leaning back against the coffee table again.

Denki’s grin turned mischievous, and he stretched his arms above his head, as if preparing himself for the most profound question of his life.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his theatrics; he was such a goofball sometimes.

“Well, here it is,” Denki said, lowering his hands and leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Are you ready for this?”

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued, but also already bracing yourself for whatever cheesy thing he was about to say.

"I'm not sure... but go ahead." you said, leaning back slightly, crossing your arms as you watched him.

He gave you a mischievous grin, clearly pleased with himself.

Then, he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a dramatic tone as he said, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips at the ridiculousness of it. "Seriously, Denki?" you said, trying to act unimpressed, but failing miserably.

"You’ve been sitting on that one, huh?" You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his over-the-top delivery.

Denki sat back with a satisfied smirk, looking way too pleased with himself. “What? It’s a classic,” he said, clearly proud of his attempt. “You can’t deny it’s effective.”

You raised an eyebrow, an idea forming in your mind. “Alright, alright. If we’re going cheesy, let me show you how it’s done.”

You leaned in slightly, putting on an exaggerated, sultry tone, though you were doing your best to hold back a grin. “Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.”

Denki’s jaw dropped, clearly impressed, but he quickly recovered, giving you a playful eye roll. “Okay, okay, I see how it is. You wanna play with the big leagues, huh?”

You smirked, leaning back to get comfortable again. “I’m just getting started,” you said with a wink.

He chuckled and sat up straighter, his grin widening as he prepared himself.

“Alright, alright. Here’s one for you. Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got ‘FINE’ written all over you.”

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest in mock shock. “Denki, no! That one was so bad.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You’ve got to try harder than that.”

Denki threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just warming up! You’ll see. I’ve got a whole arsenal.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully, already thinking of your next move.

You leaned forward once more, this time lowering your voice just a little for dramatic effect. “Are you a campfire? Because you’re hot and I want s’more.”

Denki’s eyes widened, and you could see his thoughts race as he tried to come up with something equally cheesy in return.

His lips curled into a grin, but it was clear he was impressed. “Okay, okay, I see how this is going,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve got some skills.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how competitive he was getting. “I told you,” you said, sitting back again, feeling pretty proud of yourself.

“You’ve got to bring your A-game if you want to keep up with me.”

Denki laughed, running a hand through his messy hair as he tried to think of something better. “Alright, alright. I’ve got the perfect one for you. Ready?”

He waited for you to nod, then leaned in with a smirk. “Is your name Google? Because you’ve got everything I’ve been searching for.”

You gasped dramatically, throwing a hand over your heart as though he’d just knocked you out with the most romantic line ever. “Okay, that was actually pretty okay. I’ll give it to you,” you said, laughing.

“You’ve won this round, I guess.”

Denki’s grin widened, clearly pleased with himself. “I knew I could get you with that one,” he said, leaning back against the couch, looking smug. “You can’t out-pickup-line me, babe.”

You playfully stuck your tongue out at him, still laughing. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll come up with something even better next time.”

You leaned in and added in a teasing tone, “You may have won this round, but I’m not done yet.”

Denki shook his head, chuckling. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store. But for now, I think I’ve earned the title of Master of Pickup Lines.”

He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head with a relaxed smile.

You rolled your eyes again, but your heart was warm, knowing how much fun you were having with him.

“We’ll see about that,” you said, settling back into your spot on the floor and grabbing your book again.

Denki watched you for a moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I think I could sit here and do this with you all day. Just… hang out, make each other laugh.”

You smiled back at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I’m all for that,” you said, feeling incredibly lucky to have someone as goofy and sweet as him by your side.

For a moment, the room settled into a comfortable silence, the only sound the soft hum of the TV in the background.

You sat there, both of you content, knowing that even in the midst of the silliest games, the best moments came from just being together.

☆ ADULT BAKUGO FANFICTION ☆

[the-oblivious-writer]

Bad Idea Right?

Lottie Matthews x Gender Neutral Reader

One-shot

summary: When a night out with friends is interrupted by an unexpected phone call, you find yourself entering familiar territory of the on-again, off-again relationship that you share with Lottie Matthews, one neither of you seem capable of escaping.

warnings: modern/no crash au, alcohol consumption/smoking, toxic relationship dynamic, implied sexual content, emotional manipulation, and self destructive behavior/poor decision making.

notes: i hope i did medicated/no crash au lottie justice with this.

The music pulsed through the bar, loud enough to make conversation a shouting match but not quite loud enough to drown out the thoughts cycling through your head. Jackie was deep in animated conversation with Shauna about something—their hands moving expressively, punctuated with laughter that carried over the noise. Taissa and Van were squeezed together in the booth across from you, sharing private jokes and casual touches.

You took another sip of your drink, trying to focus on being present. This was supposed to be your night out, the designated "moving on" evening that your friends had insisted upon after weeks of you moping around your apartment.

"You need to get back out there," Jackie had insisted earlier. "It's been two months since you and Lottie split."

Two months, one week, and four days—but who was counting?

Your phone buzzed against the table. You glanced down, expecting a text from your roommate asking when you'd be home.

Instead, the screen displayed a name you'd been trying to forget.

Lottie calling...

Your heart lurched. You hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Jackie caught your eye from across the table and mouthed, "Who is it?"

You shook your head dismissively and slid out of the booth. "Bathroom," you called out over the music, phone clutched in your hand.

Once in the relative quiet of the hallway, you answered.

"Hello?"

A beat of silence, then her voice—that impossible-to-forget voice.

"Hey, stranger."

The casual confidence in her tone made your stomach flip, like you were seventeen again, listening to her talk you into skipping class.

"Lottie. Hi." You tried to match her nonchalance and failed spectacularly.

"I was just thinking about you," she said, and you could picture the exact expression on her face—that half-smile that always made you feel like you were both sharing a secret.

"Were you?" Your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

"I moved. Got a new place." A pause, like she was taking a drag from a cigarette. "You should see it."

It wasn't a question, but it wasn't quite a command either. Classic Lottie—creating the space for you to make a choice while making it abundantly clear what she wanted you to choose.

"I'm out with friends right now," you said, glancing back toward the booth where everyone sat, completely unaware that your carefully constructed "moving on" evening was unraveling.

"I can text you the address." Another pause. "If you want."

Did you want? God, yes. Should you want? Absolutely not.

"Okay," you heard yourself say, already calculating how long it would take to make your excuses and leave.

"Okay," she echoed, and you could hear the smile in her voice.

Your phone buzzed with a text as soon as the call ended—an address in a part of town you didn't frequent often. The kind of neighborhood where rent was probably twice what you paid.

When you returned to the table, Jackie immediately clocked the change in your demeanor.

"Everything alright?" she asked, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"Yeah, just... My roommate needs me to bring her something. Emergency situation." The lie came surprisingly easy.

Taissa frowned. "Now? We just got here."

"I know, I'm sorry. Rain check?" You were already gathering your jacket, avoiding eye contact.

"This better not be what I think it is," Jackie warned quietly as you slid past her.

You squeezed her shoulder. "It's not." Another lie.

Outside, you hailed a cab and gave the driver Lottie's address. The entire ride, you told yourself this was just closure. Just seeing an old friend. Just checking out her new place.

Yeah, Lottie's your ex, but can't two people reconnect? You just see her as a friend.

The biggest lie you ever said.

Lottie's new apartment was on the fourteenth floor of a sleek high-rise with a doorman who nodded at you as if he'd been expecting you. The elevator ride up gave you just enough time to second-guess yourself, but not enough time to actually turn around.

When the doors opened, she was already waiting in the hallway, leaning against her doorframe. Dark jeans, loose white shirt, barefoot. Hair a little longer than when you'd last seen her. She looked like a magazine spread, casual and effortlessly put together in a way that had always made you feel slightly underdressed.

"You came," she said, eyes traveling slowly from your face down to your shoes and back up again.

"I was in the neighborhood," you lied, knowing full well she could see right through it.

Her apartment was minimally furnished but expensively so—all clean lines and neutral tones with carefully placed pops of color. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a view of the city that made your own apartment's outlook of the adjacent building's brick wall seem particularly depressing.

"Drink?" She was already moving toward an impressively stocked bar cart.

"Sure." You shrugged off your jacket, draping it over a chair that probably cost more than your monthly rent.

She handed you a glass of something amber that burned pleasantly as it went down. You watched as she lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling toward the open balcony door.

"Thought you quit," you said, nodding toward the cigarette.

"I did." She smiled, offering it to you. "Multiple times."

You took it from her, your fingers brushing against hers in a way that felt deliberate. The familiar taste was both comforting and a reminder of bad decisions past.

"So," you said, handing the cigarette back. "New place."

"New job, new place." She shrugged, as if the obviously expensive apartment was nothing special. "New start."

That stung more than it should have. A new start without you.

"It's nice." You took another sip of your drink, using it as an excuse to look anywhere but at her.

"It's too big for one person," she said, and there it was—the opening, the invitation, the thing that had brought you here despite your better judgment.

She moved closer, taking the glass from your hand and setting it on a side table. This close, you could smell her perfume—the same one she'd worn since college, the one that still clung to a sweatshirt of hers you'd never returned.

"I've missed you," she said, her voice lower now.

"Have you?" you challenged, even as your body betrayed you by leaning fractionally closer.

"I've tried not to." Her hand found the hem of your shirt, fingers just barely brushing against the skin above your waistband. "I've gone out, met people. Tried to move on."

You swallowed hard. "How's that working out for you?"

"I'm sure I've seen much hotter women," she said with a small smirk. "But I really can't remember when..."

And then her lips were on yours, and it was like muscle memory—the way your hands immediately found her waist, the tilt of your head, the soft sound she made when you pulled her closer.

It was a bad idea. You knew it was a bad idea.

But as she led you down the hallway toward her bedroom, you couldn't bring yourself to care. Some mistakes were worth making twice. Or in your case, for the dozenth time.

"This doesn't mean anything," you murmured against her neck as her hands worked at the buttons of your shirt.

"Of course not," she agreed, but the knowing look in her eyes said otherwise.

You just tripped and fell into her bed, you told yourself later. These things happen. Friends reconnect all the time.

As the night wore on and the city lights painted patterns across her bedroom ceiling, you knew you'd be back to square one tomorrow—heartbroken and trying to move on all over again.

But tonight? Tonight you'd let yourself believe the lie that maybe this time would be different.

------

Morning light filtered through Lottie's bedroom windows, harsh and unforgiving. You squinted against it, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings—the impossibly soft sheets, the sleek nightstand with nothing but a small crystal ashtray and a glass of water you didn't remember pouring.

Reality crashed back as you registered the warm body beside you, the familiar curve of Lottie's back rising and falling with each breath. The events of last night flooded your memory—the phone call, the flimsy excuse to your friends, the inevitable collision of bodies that always seemed to happen between you two, no matter how many times you promised yourself "never again."

You eased yourself up on one elbow, careful not to wake her. Sleep softened her in a way wakefulness never did, smoothing out that perpetual look of amused detachment she wore like armor. Your fingers itched to trace the constellation of freckles across her shoulder blades—a map you had memorized and forgotten and memorized again over the years.

Instead, you slipped out of bed with practiced stealth, gathering discarded clothing from the floor. This was the part of the routine you knew best—the quiet escape before things got complicated with morning conversation and the awkward dance of "what now?"

You were halfway through buttoning your shirt when her voice cut through the silence.

"Leaving without saying goodbye? That's cold, even for you."

You turned to find her propped up on one elbow, sheet draped carelessly across her waist, hair tousled in a way that was annoyingly perfect. The morning light painted her in gold, and something twisted in your chest at the sight.

"I didn't want to wake you," you said, the lie sitting awkwardly between you.

Her smile was knowing, almost sympathetic. "Sure."

You continued dressing, suddenly very aware of her eyes on you. "I should get home. My roommate will be wondering where I am."

"Your roommate," she repeated, reaching for her phone on the nightstand. "The same roommate who had that emergency last night that dragged you away from your friends?"

You paused, caught. "You know how it is."

"I do," she said, sitting up fully now. "I know exactly how it is with you."

There was no real bite to her words, just a resigned familiarity that somehow hurt worse than anger would have.

"Coffee?" she asked, changing the subject with practiced ease. "I've got that fancy stuff you like."

The offer dangled between you—innocent on the surface but loaded with implication. Coffee meant staying longer. Coffee meant conversation. Coffee meant acknowledging this was more than a late-night mistake.

"I should really go."

She slid out of bed, unself-conscious in her nakedness as she reached for a robe hanging on the back of the door. "Running away again? Some things never change."

"I'm not running away," you protested, though you both knew that was exactly what you were doing.

"Fine. Let's call it a strategic retreat." She tied the robe loosely at her waist. "At least let me walk you out."

In her kitchen, the morning seemed less harsh. The space was sparsely decorated but thoughtfully so—a small potted herb garden on the windowsill, a vintage record player in the corner. Signs of a life continuing to unfold without you in it.

She moved around the space with comfortable familiarity, filling a kettle and setting it on the stove despite your insistence that you weren't staying.

"Text from Jackie," she said casually, nodding toward your phone on the counter. "Third one in the last hour. Seems concerned."

You snatched the phone up, scanning the messages:

Please tell me you're not with her.

If you don't respond in an hour, I'm assuming the worst.

You're a grown adult who can make her own decisions but for the record THIS IS A MISTAKE

"Trouble in paradise?" Lottie asked, the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips.

"She's just being protective."

"She's never liked me."

"She's never liked what I become around you," you corrected, immediately regretting the honesty.

Something flickered across Lottie's face—a brief crack in her carefully maintained facade of indifference. "And what exactly do you become around me?"

The kettle whistled, saving you from having to answer immediately. She turned to attend to it, and you took the moment to compose yourself, to rebuild the walls she had a habit of dismantling with devastating efficiency.

"Someone who makes bad decisions," you finally said, aiming for lightness but landing somewhere closer to painful truth.

She laughed as she poured hot water over coffee grounds in a pour-over setup that looked both complicated and expensive. "Is that what last night was? A bad decision?"

"Wasn't it?"

She slid a mug in front of you despite your earlier refusal. The familiar aroma wafted up, stirring memories of countless mornings in countless apartments over the years—the two of you orbiting each other in small kitchens, trading sections of newspapers or scrolling through phones in comfortable silence.

"I don't know," she said, leaning against the counter. "Was it?"

The coffee was perfect—of course it was. Everything Lottie did had a certain effortless perfection to it that both attracted and infuriated you.

"We always do this," you said after a moment. "We always end up right back here, pretending this time will be different."

"Who's pretending?" She sipped her coffee, watching you over the rim of her mug. "I've never claimed things would be different."

"That's the problem," you said. "You're fine with this... whatever this is. The calling me when you're bored, the casual hookups, the complete lack of any forward momentum."

"And you're not?" Her eyebrow arched in challenge. "Because you seemed pretty fine with it last night when you were—"

"That's not fair," you cut her off, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

"Fair?" She set her mug down with a little too much force. "What's not fair is you showing up here, falling into my bed, and then acting like I somehow tricked you into it. Like you didn't come running the minute I called."

The truth of it stung. "I should go."

"You already said that." She crossed her arms. "And yet, here you are, drinking my coffee and looking at me like I'm the villain in your story."

"You're not the villain," you said quietly. "That's what makes this so hard."

Something in her expression softened. "What do you want from me? Really?"

It was the question that always lingered between you, unasked and unanswered through every iteration of your relationship. What did you want? Commitment? Stability? The very things that seemed antithetical to everything that made Lottie who she was?

"I don't know anymore," you admitted.

She moved closer, invading your space in that way she always did—like proximity was her birthright. "Yes, you do. You're just afraid to say it."

Her hand found yours on the counter, fingers intertwining with practiced ease. The touch was electric, familiar, dangerous.

"Why did you call me last night?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"You know why."

"I want you to say it."

She paused, her thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand. For a moment, you thought she might actually give you what you needed—the words, the confirmation that this wasn't just physical, that you weren't alone in whatever this complicated tangle of feelings was.

Instead, she leaned in and kissed you—soft, almost sweet, entirely unlike the heated exchanges of the night before. When she pulled back, her eyes held something you couldn't quite name.

"Stay for breakfast," she said. Not quite an answer, but not quite an evasion either.

Your phone buzzed again on the counter—probably Jackie, worried and frustrated and rightfully so.

"Just breakfast?" you asked, already knowing you'd say yes, already knowing you were stepping back into the dance you'd been trying to escape.

Her smile was enigmatic, a perfect encapsulation of everything about her that had always drawn you in despite your better judgment. "Let's start there and see where it goes."

You should say no. You should walk out the door and mean it this time. You should listen to Jackie and your roommate and that increasingly insistent voice in your head telling you this was a cycle you needed to break.

Instead, you took another sip of coffee and stayed.

Bad idea?

Right.

[slushycoookie]

A Welcome Distraction 18+

Miguel’s had an eventful day at HQ. He's had to deal with report mix-ups, two anomaly containment breaks, and half of the cafeteria being destroyed. All while not having his daily cup of coffee. Because the machine was broken when he arrived.

Everything had calmed down near the end of the day, enough to where he shut himself in his lab to destress. He ranted to you via phone call, arms folded and shoulders hunched.

“I already knew my day was going to be bad when I found out the coffee machine wasn't working.” He started, “As soon as I come in, I'm bombarded with messages saying the reports got mixed up. I thought I could at least get a cup of coffee in first. But no, turns out a lot of my spiders were pulling all-nighters for reasons they have yet to tell me.” He pinched his nose while recalling the memory, “Plus, I couldn't order coffee since there was heavy traffic due to a bank robbery I stopped before I got here.”

“Oh no…” You said, your empathetic tone already easing him.

“I let the coffee thing slide and tried to fix the reports right away. Margo was a big help so we managed to get them done in a few hours, but then we got an alert of a breakout. Not just one, but two anomalies escaping.”

“That was probably annoying.”

“It was. Which surprised me because I noticed Kaine was nearby while I was dealing with the report issue. I thought, as capable as he is, he'd handle it-”

A message interrupted him. Miguel quickly opened it, wondering if it was from one of his colleagues. Instead, he was hit with a picture of you in your black, lacy bra. The shirt raised above your breasts, cups holding you together perfectly.

Miguel blinked, wondering if this was an old message that came through. He'd usually get something like this from you in the middle of the day. Occasionally, the messages arrive late but no, you just sent it.

“You good?”

“Yeah, yes.” He cleared his throat. Your tone was normal as if you didn’t send the picture at all, “Where was I?”

“Two anomalies broke out.”

“Right.” Miguel went back to recalling his story, not closing the message containing your suggestive picture. “I had to deal with that. Worse part was it was a Green Goblin and a Taskmaster. We were able to take care of the latter quickly but Goblin was relentless. He injured three of my spiders and threw some of his bombs around. One of them ended up blowing up part of the cafeteria!”

“What? I can't believe it.”

“Believe it, baby. So now I-”

Another picture arrived causing him to shift. You were only in the bra and matching underwear. He was able to see your body, your soft stomach, hugged by the laces of the lingerie. Your plush thighs pressed together while your lips slightly parted. “Is-is that the set I brought you last week?”

You hum, “It's nice, right?”

“Very nice.” Miguel wasn’t folding his arms anymore. His body pressed against the desk and his eyes couldn't tear away from the picture.

“So, the cafeteria blew up?”

“Y-Yeah. I couldn't really assess the damage until I…took care of goblin.” He tried to look at anything else besides you but was failing. “And I made sure to have a few more of our people close by the containment area so that incident doesn't happen again.”

“Taking care of the situation, good job!”

Miguel bit his lip at your praise. He was having trouble keeping himself together, between the pictures and you actively listening. “Thanks.”

He stopped breathing when you sent him another picture. This time you were laid flat on the comforter, your bra removed, your breasts out in their full glory. It was a reward for how quickly he handled the catastrophe earlier. Now, he was staring like he’d never seen you before. His hands twitched to grope them, use them to help release the stress he experienced.

“Miguel? You still there?”

He rapidly blinked, darting away from the picture. “Yeah, yeah I'm here.”

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry. What did you say?”

Your voice raised an octave, amused at how he was falling into your trap. “I asked how bad was the cafeteria damaged.”

“Oh.” Miguel felt his suit get tight. His eyes kept landing on your chest and now all he wanted to do was ask for another picture. He had no interest in continuing his story now. “Can I tell you later?”

“Why? What's wrong?”

A groan escaped him, “You know what's wrong.”

“No, I don’t.” You scoffed, “I'm not a mind reader.”

“Nena,” Miguel let out a shaky breath, “are you in bed right now?”

“Yes.” Your teasing tone rumbles across his ears. “Is that a problem?”

He shakes his head as if you can see him. “No.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because-” Miguel licked his dry lips, running his hand over his hair to figure out what to say. He was losing the battle but was ready to accept defeat. “Nothing. Take off your underwear.”

“Wait, what? What about the cafeteria? You know I like eating there sometimes.”

“I will tell you later.” He starts palming himself through his suit. “Let me see.”

You didn't argue back. Silence took over as he waited to see the picture he requested. His mouth dropped at the final photo. You reflected in the long mirror in the corner of your room. A hand amongst your breast while your legs spread for him. Showing you his prize. His reward for the terrible day he’s had. Mouth agape, almost drooling at the sight of you. Miguel couldn’t hold on any longer.

“I'm coming over.”

[shiyorin]

Slice of life with Rogal Dorn (and Imperial Fists)

It's a sequel to this one. Of course I'm too lazy to write it seriously, but here's basically what happens next if you're curious.

There are a lot of tax mistakes even though I tried to understand them, I don't live in America so I'm not too clear on everything.

If anyone has a way to solve the taxes problem and continue the story, please help me ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ ⁠ᴥ⁠•̥⁠`⁠ʔ

Summary: You and your boys deal with taxes and things go wrong.

The envelope sat on your kitchen counter like a bomb waiting to detonate. The official HOA letterhead glared up at you, its officious tone evident even through the unopened paper. You'd been avoiding it all morning, busying yourself with coffee and scrolling through your phone. But the letter remained, undeniable.

Rogal entered the kitchen, ducking slightly to clear the doorframe despite the modifications he'd made to raise it. "You appear troubled." he stated, his keen eyes noting your tense posture.

You nodded toward the envelope. "Homeowners Association. They're not happy about the 'unauthorized structural modifications' to your property."

Rogal frowned, the expression deepening the already stern lines of his face. He picked up the envelope with his one massive hand, open it. His eyes scanned the document, narrowing slightly with each line.

"This is… bureaucratic harassment." he finally declared, setting the letter down. "These 'covenants' are tactical restrictions designed to weaken defensive capacity."

"They're rules I agreed to when I bought the house." you sighed, taking a long sip of coffee. "We need permits for structural changes, and there are restrictions on height, materials, and aesthetic choices."

"Aesthetic… choices?" Rogal repeated, as if the concept were entirely foreign.

"Yes, Rogal. Not everything is about structural integrity and defensive capabilities." You rubbed your temples. "They're especially upset about the watchtower."

Alexis chose that moment to enter, his massive frame practically filling the doorway. "The observation post is essential for monitoring approach vectors. Removing it would create a blind spot in our security perimeter."

"Tell that to Carol from three doors down." you muttered. "She says it's 'an eyesore that's reducing property values.'"

The three of you stood in silence, contemplating the letter. Outside, the sounds of hammering indicated that Vladimir and Halbrecht were continuing work on their latest project, a reinforced storage shed that looked suspiciously like a bunker.

"What are the consequences for non-compliance?" Rogal finally asked.

"Fines. Legal action. Potentially a lien on my property." Your stomach tightened at the thought. Your savings were already stretched thin supporting five enormous men with appetites to match.

"Then we must comply with these regulations." Rogal decided, though his tone suggested he found the entire concept strategically unsound. "We will obtain these 'permits.'"

You laughed, a short, humorless sound. "It's not that simple. We'd need architectural plans, inspections, approval from the city planning department… not to mention explaining why five enormous men with no identification or legal existence are living here and doing construction."

Rogal processed this, his expression unchanging but something calculating in his eyes. "A tactical challenge, then."

"You could say that."

Sigismund entered, his severe face even more grim than usual. "The neighbors have been observing our activities. The female dwelling in the blue structure has been documenting the observation post with a pict-capture device."

"Mrs. Peterson with her phone." you translated. "Great."

"We should eliminate the surveillance." Sigismund suggested, his hand drifting unconsciously to where his sword would normally hang.

"No!" you snapped, momentarily forgetting your usual quiet demeanor. "Nobody is 'eliminating' anything. These are my neighbors, not enemies."

"The distinction is not always clear." Sigismund replied seriously.

Your phone chirped with a notification. You glanced at it and groaned. "And now I've been summoned to a special HOA meeting to 'discuss the unauthorized modifications to the property’"

Rogal straightened, his head nearly brushing the ceiling despite his modifications. "I will accompany you to this tactical briefing."

"That's really not necessary."

"It is decided." he stated, in a tone that suggested the matter was closed.

******

The community center meeting room fell silent as you entered with Rogal at your side. The folding chairs seemed absurdly small as the giant man surveyed the room with the calculated gaze of a battlefield commander.

Carol Anderson, HOA president and self-appointed neighborhood watchdog, gaped momentarily before recovering her composure. "Ma’am, we didn't expect you to bring… guests."

"This is my… consultant." you said weakly. "Roger… Donald."

Rogal looked at you curiously but didn't contradict the hasty alias.

"Well." Carol continued, shuffling her papers officiously, "we've called this meeting to address the numerous violations occurring at your property. We have photographic evidence of unauthorized construction, including what appears to be some sort of… guard tower?"

Murmurs rippled through the assembled neighbors. You felt your face heating up.

"Observation post." Rogal corrected automatically.

"Excuse me?"

"The proper tactical designation is 'observation post,' not 'guard tower,'" he elaborated, his deep voice resonating through the small room. "It provides elevated surveillance capabilities for early threat detection."

Carol blinked rapidly. "Threats? This is not a military installation."

"I'm aware." you said through gritted teeth. "We'll take it down."

"There's also the matter of the reinforced perimeter fencing, the concrete bunker in your backyard—"

"Storage shed." you interjected.

"—and the extensive modifications to your home's exterior, all without permits or HOA approval."

Rogal leaned forward, his massive frame making the folding chair beneath him creak ominously. "Your defensive protocols are inadequate. The entire neighborhood lacks basic fortification against concentrated assault."

The meeting room fell silent again, neighbors exchanging concerned glances.

"Ma’am." Carol said slowly, "your… consultant seems to be under some misapprehensions about the purpose of our community guidelines."

"He's European." you offered weakly. "They do things differently there."

"Regardless, you have thirty days to remove the unauthorized structures and restore your property to compliance with HOA guidelines, or we'll be forced to begin issuing fines and potentially pursue legal action."

Rogal's face darkened. "This is tactically unsound."

"Nevertheless." Carol continued, ignoring him, "those are the rules you agreed to when you purchased your home."

The drive back was silent, Rogal's massive frame making your sedan look like a clown car. His expression was thunderous, though he said nothing until you pulled into the driveway.

"These administrative restrictions are worse than facing an ork horde." he finally stated.

"I don't know what that means, but I agree it's a nightmare." you sighed, turning off the engine. "And this is just the beginning. The city inspector will be here next week about the property taxes."

"Property… taxes?"

"Yeah, all the 'improvements' you guys have made? They increase the assessed value of my house, which means higher taxes."

Rogal absorbed this with his usual stoicism, though a muscle twitched in his jaw. "We have made you a target for financial warfare."

"That's one way of putting it."

Inside, you found the others gathered around the kitchen table, which Alexis had reinforced to support their combined weight. Sigismund looked up as you entered, his fierce eyes noting your expressions.

"The administrative engagement was unsuccessful." he observed.

"That's putting it mildly." you dropped your purse on the counter and slumped into a chair. "We have to remove everything or face fines we can't afford to pay."

Vladimir frowned. "The defense perimeter is essential for security."

"The watchtower is literally what neighbors see first." you muttered, to no one in particular.

"Perhaps." Sigismund began slowly, "What we require is assistance of a different nature. In the Chapter, when facing insurmountable bureaucratic obstacles, we would sometimes employ the services of… psykers."

The kitchen fell silent. Rogal's expression grew even more severe, if that were possible.

"You suggest warp-craft?" he asked, his tone suggesting deep disapproval.

"I detest the practice as much as any son of Dorn." Sigismund replied stiffly. "But a targeted mental manipulation could resolve our difficulties with these… HOA enforcers."

"What are you guys talking about?" you asked, looking between them in confusion.

Halbrecht, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "Psykers. Those with the ability to manipulate the immaterium, what you might call 'magic.' They could alter the perceptions of your neighbors, make them overlook our fortifications."

"That's not a real thing." you said flatly.

"It is." Vladimir insisted. "Though accessing such powers here may be problematic."

Rogal shook his head firmly. "The warp does not exist in this reality. I have sensed no trace of it since our arrival. No immaterium means no psykers."

"Then how do you explain our presence here?" Sigismund challenged. "We were clearly transported by some warp phenomenon."

"I cannot explain it." Rogal admitted. "But I know what I sense. There is no warp here."

You looked between them, increasingly lost. "What's a warp?"

The five men exchanged glances, a rare moment of uncertainty passing between them.

"It is… difficult to explain." Rogal finally said. "A parallel dimension of psychic energy that underlies reality in our… previous existence."

"Right." you said slowly. "Magic. Got it."

"Not magic." Alexis corrected firmly. "A natural force, like gravity or electromagnetism, but operating on different principles."

You raised your hands in surrender. "Whatever. The point is, we can't use mind control on the HOA, so we need another solution."

"We could eliminate them." Sigismund suggested again, though with less conviction than before.

"Still no." You sighed.

******

The city inspector arrived precisely at 9 AM the following Tuesday, clipboard in hand and an expression of bureaucratic determination on his face. His name tag read "Johnson, Property Assessment."

You met him at the door, having spent the previous evening coaching your houseguests to remain out of sight. Naturally, this lasted approximately thirty seconds into the inspection.

"These additions are quite extensive." Johnson noted, scribbling on his clipboard as he examined the reinforced door frame. "I don't see any permits on file for this work."

"It's just some minor repairs." you tried.

Johnson gave you a look that said he wasn't born yesterday. "Ma'am, your door frame is reinforced with what appears to be aerospace-grade titanium alloy. That's not 'minor repairs.'"

Before you could respond, Rogal emerged from the hallway, his imposing presence immediately filling the entryway. "The reinforcement is necessary for baseline security protocols."

Johnson startled visibly, looking up… and up at the giant before him. "And you are…?"

"He's my contractor." you interjected quickly.

"I'll need to see his license and the permits for this work." Johnson replied, recovering his composure.

"The bureaucratic restrictions in this jurisdiction are tactically unsound." Rogal stated flatly. "In the Imperial—"

"In the Imperial Fists Construction Company." you cut in desperately. "They do things differently. European standards."

Johnson's eyes narrowed. "I'm not familiar with that firm. And regardless of European standards, county building codes still apply."

The inspection deteriorated from there. Despite your best efforts, all five men eventually made appearances, each more disturbing to the inspector than the last. By the time Sigismund emerged from the basement (where he'd been installing what he called a "rudimentary defense bunker"), Johnson was scribbling furiously on his clipboard, his earlier professional demeanor replaced with barely concealed alarm.

"Ma’am." he said as they concluded the inspection, "based on my preliminary assessment, your property improvements have increased your assessed value by approximately sixty percent. You'll be receiving a revised tax statement reflecting these changes."

You felt the blood drain from your face. "Sixty percent?"

"Additionally, I'm obligated to report the unpermitted construction to the county code enforcement office. You can expect to hear from them within ten business days regarding the necessary permits and potential penalties."

After Johnson departed, looking relieved to escape, you collapsed onto your reinforced sofa, head in your hands. The five giants stood or sat around your living room, their expressions varying from Rogal's stoic contemplation to Sigismund's barely suppressed frustration.

"This administrative warfare is dishonorable." Halbrecht declared. "They attack with papers instead of facing us directly."

"That's government for you." You muttered.

"We have made your situation worse." Rogal observed, stating the obvious with his characteristic bluntness.

"I can't afford a sixty percent increase in property taxes." you admitted, the reality of your situation sinking in. "Not to mention fines from the county and the HOA."

The room fell silent, each occupant contemplating the dilemma from their own perspective. It was Vladimir who finally broke the silence.

"We must generate resources." he stated. "Currency."

Alexis nodded slowly. "Agreed. We have consumed your supplies without adequate compensation. This imbalance must be corrected."

"How?" you asked, looking up at them. "You guys don't exist on paper. No Social Security numbers, no IDs, no work permits. You can't exactly walk into a job interview."

"We possess skills." Rogal pointed out. "Construction. Engineering. Strategic planning."

"Great skills." you agreed. "But you need documentation to use them legally."

Sigismund's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Perhaps not. In times of war, informal economies often arise. Services provided without official sanction."

"You're talking about working under the table." you translated. "That's technically illegal."

"As is our very existence here." Halbrecht pointed out reasonably. "We are already operating outside your legal framework simply by being present."

You couldn't argue with that logic. You thought about your mounting financial problems, the increased taxes, the potential fines, the ordinary expenses of housing and feeding five enormous men with metabolisms that defied explanation.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" you finally asked.

"We establish a construction enterprise." Rogal stated, as if it were the most obvious solution. "Unofficial, but effective. We build. We reinforce. We improve. We generate currency."

"A construction company." you said slowly. "Run by five giant men with no legal identity, no contractor's license, and a tendency to build everything like it's going to be under siege."

"Exactly." Rogal confirmed, missing or ignoring your sarcasm.

"That's… actually not the worst idea." you admitted after a moment's thought. "There's always demand for handymen who work cheap, especially for cash jobs."

"We do not require substantial compensation." Alexis added. "Merely enough to offset the administrative warfare being waged against you."

"But we'd need to be subtle." you warned. "No watchtowers. No bunkers. Just normal home repairs and improvements."

"Disguising defensive fortifications as aesthetic improvements is standard protocol in urban warfare." Vladimir noted, as if this were common knowledge.

"And we'd need to keep a low profile with the authorities." you continued, warming to the idea despite yourself. "Small jobs, word of mouth only."

Sigismund nodded approvingly. "Guerrilla economics. Attack the problem indirectly rather than facing bureaucratic forces head-on."

"I still find these restrictions tactically unsound." Rogal stated, his perpetual frown deepening. "A society that prioritizes appearance over function invites weakness."

"Welcome to modern society." you sighed.

******

A few days later, you sat at your kitchen table, now reinforced but still looking like an ordinary table, reviewing a handwritten list of potential clients and jobs. The "Imperial Fists Construction" enterprise, as your houseguests insisted on calling it, was still more concept than reality. The bureaucratic obstacles seemed insurmountable.

"We require business credentials." Rogal stated, looming over the table. "Without documentation, our tactical options remain limited."

"I know." you sighed, looking at the papers spread before you. The increased property tax notice had arrived that morning, the numbers even worse than you'd feared. "But getting documentation for you guys is practically impossible without existing identification."

Alexis entered the kitchen, ducking through the doorway. "The neighbor three dwellings south has requested assistance with a collapsing deck structure. I provided a preliminary assessment."

"Mrs. Abernathy?" you asked. "How does she even know about you guys?"

"Word spreads." Vladimir commented from where he was methodically organizing tools. "Tactical information always finds channels."

You massaged your temples, feeling the beginnings of what had become a familiar headache. "We can't just start taking jobs without any kind of legal structure. We'd be risking fines on top of the taxes and HOA penalties we're already facing."

"Administrative warfare requires administrative countermeasures." Sigismund declared, his severe expression suggesting he found this type of battle more challenging than physical combat.

Halbrecht, who had been quietly examining your laptop, looked up. "There exist entities that provide documentation services. Not entirely within legal parameters, but functional."

You stared at him. "Are you suggesting we get fake IDs?"

"Tactical documentation." he corrected. "For emergency deployment situations."

"That's a whole new level of illegal." you pointed out, though you couldn't help considering it. Your financial situation was becoming desperate.

Rogal studied the tax notice with his characteristic intensity. "The system is designed to prevent outsiders from operating within it. A deliberate exclusionary tactic."

"That's one way of looking at bureaucracy." you muttered.

Outside, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across your increasingly fortified yard. The "observation post" had been partially dismantled following the HOA meeting, but much of their other work remained, reinforced fencing disguised as decorative borders, concrete supports hidden beneath garden features, surveillance systems camouflaged as outdoor lighting.

The five men had been trying, in their own bizarre way, to help. They'd reduced their food consumption, though their massive frames still required substantial calories. They'd begun patrolling the neighborhood at night, identifying potential jobs and clients. They'd even attempted to create rudimentary business cards, though Sigismund's design featuring fist and an eagle motif had seemed a bit too militant for suburban handyman work.

"Perhaps." Rogal began slowly, "a more direct approach is required."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"We approach this Carol Anderson. Present our case directly. Offer our services in exchange for HOA compliance."

You blinked, surprised by the suggestion. "You want to negotiate with the HOA president?"

"Tactical dialogue." Rogal confirmed. "Identify mutual benefits. Establish parameters for coexistence."

"That's… actually not a bad idea." you admitted. "Though getting HOA to agree to anything might be challenging."

"All fortifications have weak points." Sigismund observed cryptically.

You glanced at the stack of bills, the tax notice, the HOA warning. Your savings were dwindling, your options limited. Five enormous men with impossible skills and no legal existence sat in your kitchen, earnestly trying to solve a problem they had largely created.

It was absurd. Impossible. Yet somehow, you found yourself considering Rogal's suggestion. What did you have to lose?

"Alright." you said finally. "Let's try diplomacy. But if Sigismund suggests 'eliminating' anyone again, we're going back to plan A."

"Which was?" Vladimir asked.

"Panic and hope for a miracle." you replied dryly.

Rogal nodded, "The fortress will stand."

[savannahsdeath]

hii i have a little ellie request. so can we maybe have an enemies to lovers where reader and ellie “hate each other” but in reality ellie just wants to be with reader and she ends up using the strap roughly bc reader didn’t wanna confess after years? (sorry this seems long😭)

i absolutely love this idea omg??

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

PART1ONE

part 2two

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! smut, 'enemies' to lovers, strap (r!receiving), mean!ellie kinda??, rough!ellie, reader is also mean at first !!

writers note: i love receiving requests like yall are so creative and idkk its just easier to write a req than my own idea🫣🫣 also this turned out to be longer than i expected (my longest fanfic yet!) but even the anon said it seems long so ig thats how its supposed to be🙏

It was another PE lesson you hate so much. It wouldn't be that bad, if not the fact that you're in the same team with Ellie. Ellie fucking Williams.

She would get mad at you for every little mistake you made. You absolutely hated her.

You had to admit she was... pretty. Especially when she had the mix of mad and stern expression on her face. Sometimes you provoked her just to watch her insult every little thing about you she could but you didn't mind. You just sat there with a smirk, sometimes making a mockingly worried face to piss her off even more. Sometimes. Sometimes you weren't in mood for that and you'd actually get offended. Sometimes even hurt. But you couldn't really blame her, that's how it works.

This day, you were literally rescuing your team. Every point was because of you. Every 'that was close' situation was only 'close' because of you. But your luck, or whatever made you win, had to run out eventually. You missed one time.

"What happened? Got holes in your hands? Tired? Not so good anymore?" Ellie asked you with that mocking tone.

Everyone ignored your interaction - they knew what's starting and they didn't want to get involved in that.

"I've done pretty much everything for this team, and the only thing you do is complain, Williams." You said and you could feel your temper rising.

Ellie didn't hesitate to respond to that.

"Well at least I don't do a half-ass job like you. You're really so full of yourself, aren't you? Why not just give up and let someone actually capable take over, huh?" She barked sarcastically.

The other team members didn't even try to hide their excitement now, they just sat back and enjoyed the show, even the teacher was having a hard time holding back the grin on his face whenever Ellie came up with a new insult.

And now, there was no going back.

"Oh, I'm sorry Williams, did your precious little ego get hurt from that? Are my skills threatening your so-called pride? Well if you don't like it, suck it up." You shot back.

If this kept up, you were going to end up with another detention for sure. Everyone knew that you two were like oil and water, but nobody really expected you to get into a shouting match over PE class. Especially, not this early in the morning.

The teacher finally decided that it was enough trouble, and he stepped between the two.

"Ladies, settle down! If you can't figure out how to work well together in a simple PE session, then you'll need more than one detention to figure it out. Go sit down." He ordered, and you two sat down, next to each other.

As if following a silent order, all the other students just went about their business and pretended like nothing had happened.

"You should learn how to shut up sometimes." You said quietly, nervously playing with your fingers.

"You should stop thinking you're so damn important." She snapped back, completely ignoring your advice as she stared at you with the same icy cold look as before.

The teacher came over to the two of you and handed you a form, which you quickly read over. "Maybe it's rough but that's what you both deserve after arguing in every single class. And if that won't help... I don't know what will. Someone will check in on you from time to time, so don't even think about anything, understood?."

In short, the file was saying you'll have spent a month after school doing little school works, like cleaning the gym, with her. It was a frequent way of dealing with problematic students in your school.

You weren't even surprised - the teacher was right. Your little bickers were the main gossip topic and there was no way they'll go unnoticed.

Still, you couldn't help but frown.

"You've got to be kidding me." You muttered under your breath. Spending a month after school doing odd jobs with Ellie was literally the last thing you wanted to do. You knew there was some sort of punishment coming, but this was extreme.

Ellie overheard your muttering, and she rolled her eyes. "It's just a bunch of cleaning, what's wrong, can't handle a little hard work?" She mocked.

"And why are you so happy? Maybe you wished to spend more time with me?" You chuckled, finally looking up at her.

Ellie seemed caught off guard, but she quickly recomposed herself. "Who said I was happy? Sure, I'll love to see you grovel and scrub floors while I sit back and relax." She replied in a sarcastic tone.

You decided to press your advantage, and give Ellie a dose of her own medicine. "Aww, is someone actually admitting that they like spending time with me? I'm so honored." You said with an overdramatized fake fluster.

Ellie didn't even let you finish your sentence before she cut in with her usual sarcastic tone. "Pfff, don't get so ahead of yourself there." She chided. Even then, you could hear some slight annoyance in her voice.

Ellie may have been a jerk, but there was something about her you couldn't help but like. You couldn't explain it, but you liked this banter between the two of you.

Oh, who were you trying to lie to? You liked her. You were just good at hiding it.

You were just about to open your mouth to respond to Ellie's last snarky remark, when you were cut off again.

"Enough."

You both turned to see the teacher staring at the two of you. He sounded more annoyed than before, and you decided it was better to stop your feud before you got in any more trouble.

"You two are already going to spend a month together doing odd jobs. The last thing we need is for you to add another week to that sentence." He warned.

You wanted to say something back, but you decided to shut up before the teacher had to make it worse. You and Ellie just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, before you rolled your eyes and got up from your seat.

After a few more classes, the time of  fulfilling your penalty came. You sat down at the gym benches, waiting for Ellie. You waited, and waited, but no one came.

Ellie was faster than you with getting up. She smirked and said; "Well it's not like you actually had anything worth saying anyway, so it's easier for you." With that parting jab, she walked out of the gym.

You expected something like that from her, so you stood up and a few minutes later you were standing in front of her room. You knocked to the door, patiently waiting for her to answer.

After a few moments, you heard footsteps, before the door finally opened. Ellie stood in front of you, her face as annoyed as ever.

"What do you want?" she grumbled, clearly not in the mood to be bothered right now.

"Uh, hello? We're supposed to be doing the clean-up, remember? You haven't forgotten, right?" You said, trying to stay as polite as you could.

She sighed and motioned for you to come in, clearly not ready to go just yet.

You slowly stepped into Ellie's room, your eyes taking in the decorations and mess. It was clear that this was Ellie's world, but you couldn't help but feel a slight curiosity towards her.

"So, why exactly weren't you at the gym?" You asked, finally breaking the tension. You didn't want her thinking you were here to start another argument.

"I had stuff to do." Was the terse response you were met with, nothing else.

"Yeah, of course." You rolled your eyes. "Your room could use some cleaning too."

Ellie smirked when your tone turned from polite to annoyed when she gave you her response, but you couldn't help but notice that she slightly recoiled when you mention how messy her room was. For someone with such a sharp tongue, she sure wasn't enjoying that same kind of treatment.

"Oh yeah? So maybe we should have you clean my room instead." She shot back.

"Actually, boarding school is still school, so that'd count too." You smirked, not so sarcastically anymore. You'd really rather stay in her room than running all over the building with a mop and dirty cloths.

Ellie raised one eyebrow at your reply, clearly not expecting you to just accept it without some kind of snarky remark or argument.

"Alright then." She replied simply, and she walked over to her bed and started to clear out the clutter. You couldn't really deny that her room was in a pretty messy state.

You explored the room, looking for something to start with.

Just then, near other scattered clothes, you saw feminine underwear. Clearly not hers.

"Um, Ellie..." You laughed. "Who's this?"

She walked up to you, not seeming surprised or embarrased at all. "I dunno. There's lots of girls visiting." She smirked.

You knew the smart thing to do would be just to drop the topic, but your curiosity got the best of you. Just who was Ellie Williams hanging out with?

"Really? And how many of them leave a pair of underwear in your room as a souvenir?" You asked, trying to keep a straight face, but you couldn't help but be amused by the situation.

Ellie just laughed, and you couldn't help but grin at her confidence in that moment.

"If you're asking if I'm dating someone," Ellie said, looking at you with an amused expression, "then no. I wouldn't call it dating."

You knew Ellie was always too stubborn and proud to just admit it normally, so you decided to push her just a little bit further.

"So it's not just a single person then? What's it? A new girl every day?" you asked with a smirk, knowing you'd hit a nerve there.

The slight flicker of annoyance on Ellie's face told you that you'd hit the mark.

"So what if it is? Are you jealous?" She teased in response, just adding fuel to the fire.

Now, she had the smirk on her face, and you just knew you'll regret what you started.

"Not really. Everyone knows you fuck every girl in the school anyways. Well, almost every." You suggestively pointed at yourself. "That's honestly sad. You should focus on one person, don't you think?"

Ellie took this as a challenge, she just couldn't resist it when you made yourself the exception.

"Oh, you think you're a special case? How cute." She snickered, and you couldn't help but feel somewhat pleased with that response after how much you two had been annoying each other for the past month.

"What do you think, should I consider dating you? It seems like you're interested, isn't that why you keep sticking around?" She asked, looking at you, knowing very well what kind of effect her words were gonna have on you.

"Me? Interested? You're the one finding excuses to talk to me every day, even if it's just another argument!" You shook your head and looked down, trying to hide that your smirk turns into a honest smile.

You felt Ellie's eyes studying your face as you tried to hide your genuine happiness, you tried to play it off, but you knew that it wasn't working in your favor. You couldn't even deny it, because it was true, you were interested in Ellie. Maybe not at first, but after spending time together, you grew to like her, her arrogance, her wit, the snarky smile on her face... and her eyes.

"Oh, so you do care!" She quickly cut in, sensing your weakness as your smile grew.

"Come on, don't tell me you've been enjoying this little game of ours, haven't you? Don't you look forward to it every day? Don't you love the adrenaline that kicks in when you're about to say something that's bound to start an argument?" She asked, taking a step closer to you and lowering her voice.

You could almost see the sparks fly as the two of you stared at each other, both feeling the tension in the air. You were almost tempted to take her up on the offer, but your pride got the best of you.

"You're just full of yourself, aren't you? Thinking everybody craves that attention." You said after taking a deep breath.

Ellie just smiled and walked straight to you, getting up close and personal.

"Well, I know you want it. So stop putting up a facade and admit it."

"I'm not like these sluts you fuck, Williams." You said, trying to keep your voice steady and calm.

Ellie just smirked in response. "You're right, you're not like them. You're better than them. And maybe you are a little special, considering how much you manage to piss me off everyday." She took a step back and looked you up and down. "I kinda like it." She said, and you couldn't help but feel your heart rate go up a little when she said that.

You just stared back at Ellie, not really sure what else to say in this situation. Both of your egos were too big to give the other one satisfaction, and neither would be making the first move.

She finally spoke up; "Your turn to be honest now. Admit you're into me."

She was awfully close to you now, daring you to say something.

"Don't push it, Ellie." You told her confidently, and even though you really wanted to say it, your pride was holding you back from admitting it.

Ellie just smirked and moved even closer to you, until her face was just an inch away from yours. "Say it." She whispered.

You felt your heart pounding faster as you just looked at her, not able to break her stare.

You shook your head. "No way."

She just chuckled at your response. "I knew you'd say that. And now, I'm gonna make you say it yourself."

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, Ellie pulled you close, just enough to make your lips meet. You just stood there, completely stunned by how bold she was, but at the same time, the feeling of her lips against yours was so new and so good as well. You hadn't felt this type of rush before, and you didn't want it to end.

You couldn't stop yourself from letting out a gasp followed by a moan into the kiss, which made her even bolder.

"I'll show you how lucky those so-called by you sluts are." She whispered after pulling away from you, but not for long.

While Ellie's mouth aggresively covered yours, you felt her slowly pushing you towards the bed.

You were barely able to think now, as your adrenaline was pumping through your whole body. Your back hit the mattress, and Ellie continued to push you down as she climbed up onto the bed on top of you.

That's when it hit you.

You realized that your little feud with Ellie wasn't going to end after all, except this time you weren't fighting her.

Instead, you were just enjoying the moment with someone you could almost call a friend.

It felt like there was nothing else in the universe, just a rush of new sensations that you didn't want to end.

Ellie was the one in control now, as you felt her body pressing up against you, her lips pressing against yours, her hands moving around your body without hesitation. You weren't even thinking straight anymore, you just let her embrace you, letting her take control entirely.

You felt her break the kiss for a moment, just to whisper something in your ear. "Say it."

You knew what she wanted you to say, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do so.

Before you could answer, you felt her slowly undressing you. Her lips were tracing paths along your throat, not letting you let out a logical word from it - only little whimpers.

You felt every curve of her body as you felt her lips against your neck, every touch sending chills down your spine.

When you felt her hands move towards your pants, you felt your body respond in the only way you could.

You couldn't think of anything else but her embrace, her warm breath against your neck, and your body slowly being freed from clothing.

Ellie knew exactly how to push your buttons.

Before you could catch your breath, you were left shaking, as her hand slipped into your underwear, which was soon on the floor too. She was teasing your clit in almost painful slow way, watching you squirm.

"Speak up, babe." She whispered mockingly.

But you couldn't. Not because you didn't want, or because your ego didn't let you - you just couldn't. You even asked yourself 'What does this girl wants from me?' as you already forgotten her previous wish. You just weren't thinking straight.

"Come on, do this for me." She kept looking at you with overdramatic concern. You saw her fastening her belt and sliding of her jeans, revealing an obviously-way-too-big strap, which purple color didn't surprise you at all as you imagined it the same way in your dreams.

When you finally came back to your senses, you constructed a whole full sentence answer. But as soon as she saw you opening your mouth to speak up, she slid a few inches of her toy into your soaking cunt. Your planned reply quickly got replaced with another gasp.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She smirked, her hips started thrusting. She had some sympathy for you, so she didn't make it too painful, but she wasn't also so merciful.

You cried out, at first clenching your thighs from surprise, but she was too strong for you to actually succeed.

You leaned your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut causing a few of your pathetic tears soak into the sheets.

She held your hips, so she won't miss your sensitive spot, but her grip was so hard you swore you can already see the bruises creating right beneath her fingers.

"Honestly, I'm really happy it ended like that. You have no idea how often I'd imagine you instead of some random girl. But it's good to have you really there." She chuckled, not slowing down but not speeding up either.

Your eyes opened wide at this confession. Before today, the nicest thing she said to you was 'what's wrong?', even though it was in an obviously mocking way. And know it turns out she liked you for a long time. Just like you liked her.

"W...Wh- What?" You managed to stutter out, leaning on your elbows to look at her before your vision turned blurry again so you fell back on the pillow.

"You didn't know?" She laughed. "I mean, you were always oblivious, so I shouldn't be shocked but... I thought it was clear." She was speaking slower than usual as every single word coming from her mouth was synced with the moves of her hips. While saying this simple thing, she pushed her strap into you at least twenty times. And she wasn't taking her time, oh, no. She was fast and rough, like you're just a sex toy without feelings. Did you mind? Hmmm...

When you started getting used to the size of her cock and your mind wasn't completely blank anymore, you remembered one important thing your PE teacher said. 'Someone will check in on you from time to time, so don't even think about anything.' None of you were either at the gym or putting up flyers around school. They're going to think you ditched it. Even though you'd rather get into more trouble than end whatever you were doing now, you felt you need to tell Ellie, just in case.

"El-s..." You moaned out and quickly realised it won't be easy.

"What is it?" She asked, seeming honestly interested in what you got to say. "Ready to admit you're absolutely obsessed with me?"

You clenched your fists, squeezing the bed sheets between your fingers.

"Th- no... We should..." You couldn't help but cry out again.

As soon as she heard the two keywords - 'we should' (and she hated when someone was telling her what to do, so that pissed her off) - she understood what you're trying to say.

"Behave? Fulfill our duties? Or...?" She chuckled.

You wanted to speak up, just to not feel so vulnerable as you really were. You only managed to mumble 'we' before one of her hands started rubbing your clit, just like at the start - painfully slow. The feeling made your thighs tense and move closer to each other, wanting to close the gap between them. But Ellie didn't let that happen as she quickly separated your legs.

Her hips also didn't stop moving, and all the sensations connected made you go silent again. Well, not silent - unable to speak. And that were two completely different things.

"I'd take that as a 'we should continue what we're doing right now'. Isn't that what you want?" Even though you're eyes were closed, you could feel her intense stare on you. Then, her mocking tone came back. "What is it with you being so quiet all of sudden? You spent a few of the past years yelling at me, and you can't even say a word now?"

"I ju-st..." You said but then she hit your g spot again, and again, and again... making you go silent.

Your stomach started feeling funny - probably because of how deep in it Ellie's strap was. At this point, you thought you can even feel it in your throat and that's what's blocking your words from coming out. But the funny feeling had a different origin - your release was getting awfully close, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"We're going to have lots of fun this month." She whispered, leaning in to stroke your cheek.

[silverflqmes]

agszc and the WAY THEY SAY I LOVE YOU CAUSE I'M STILL SCREAMING OVER CLOUD'S DATING HCS YOU MADE SNSKDJKD

໒⦂ ( 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ) 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

notes. you might be confused with the use of parenthesis but it’s exactly what you think.. not all of them ACTUALLY say those words.. read and see🫡

genre. fluff + angst ( sephiroth’s )

for @melukonova <3

ft. sephiroth, cloud strife, zack fair, genesis rhapsodos, angeal hewley

disclaimer. ok, poetry IS NOT my strong suit, from time to time i experiment with it but i am not the best at it so keep criticism tame please..

gender neutral! reader.

➫ 𝓢𝗘𝗣𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗛 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ sephiroth’s confession would be something that requires patience. he doesn’t have much experience with love, as he wasn’t exposed to it much throughout his life.

⌗ it doesn’t mean he’s incapable of feeling it, rather, it’s a matter of him truly realizing those feelings he has and how deep they run. now the way those words come out.. would likely be influenced by heightened emotions.

a beat of silence passed before the the silver haired hero closed the door, turning to face you with an expression you weren’t certain his features were even capable of making. “what were you thinking??”

he was distressed, brows knitted together as you watched his chest rise and fall unevenly, each breath more irregular than the last. you assumed it was anxiety — something you’d never associated with sephiroth.. until now, that was. “i was doing my job, an injury or few is unavoidable at times, you know that.” came your mumble, feeling your own brows furrow.

of course he knew that, the top hero knew that better than anyone.. but this. “there are other ways to get things done, what you did today was completely reckless — as though you had no care whatsoever for your life.” he argued, moonlight bangs swishing from right to left when his head shook. “you could have died!”

now it was your turn to get frustrated as you stood up from your place despite your aching muscles, walking up to his broad frame. “and that’s suddenly an issue now? our line of work demands for us to risk our lives everyday no matter the mission! we both knew this going into our relationship, so why are you suddenly so worked up over this??” you matched his tone, not fond of the approach he’d taken in addressing you.

“because i nearly lost you!” he shouted, overcome with emotions so powerful, he couldn’t even stop the onyx, gloved hands that flew to your shoulders, clinging desperately to something.. something even he didn’t know of.

his breath stuttered as he lowered his head, trembling in his place. “i can’t.. i-i can’t have you leave me, too…” the first class SOLDIER whispered in a voice so broken, so defeated, you had to remind yourself that behind this towering, imposing powerhouse.. was a human being, with feelings of his own, no matter how well he hid them. a human that knew loss, and an unwelcomed amount of it.. and feared more of it.

unsure of what to do, you pulled him down into a hug, feeling your anger fade into nothingness as you allowed your eyes to close. “i won’t, not ever.”

➫ 𝓒𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗗 𝓢𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗙𝗘 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ he says get help but he’s the one that needs help.. bro just, he can’t say it — he’s too embarrassed and he just doesn’t rlly know how to bring it across properly..

⌗ in the end, he opts for a more subtle method that aerith had once told him about. it required minimal speech on his end, and called for actions to take the reigns — perfectly up his alley.. as long as you got the memo.

“cloud?” you called out in surprise, turning to find a familiar spiky haired blond with an ivory colored flower in between his gloved fingers.

his lightly tanned cheeks were dusted with a tint of pink, seemingly reddening as he held out his hand, averting his gaze. “you said you wanted me to bring you something back from my delivery in sector five.. figured i’d bring something you don’t find everyday here.”

your knowledge of flowers was minimal, as midgar.. wasn’t exactly filled with them. you only rarely saw them from a distance, and on the occasions that you had, normally they were too pricey to purchase.

somehow, however, the owner of strife delivery services seemed to have gotten his hands on one singular flower. when you’d ask for a small souvenir from his travels, it had been a joke, simply you joshing like you normally had with him.. though it appeared this time, that he had taken it seriously.

you cleared your throat, letting out a sheepish laugh. “you didn’t have to do that, but thank you — i’ve.. never received a flower before, much less held one..” you confessed in a soft tone, taking the bloom from his grasp as you brought it close to your face.

even without leaning in to take in its scent, the sweetness greeted your senses as a smile etched itself onto your lips. “aah~ it smells wonderful, what kind of flower is it??”

he rubbed his neck at the question, feeling himself grow more nervous by the second. “it’s um.. it’s called gardenia. aerith’s mom insisted i took one back with me, since they were the newest edition to her garden.. said something about it having a deeper meaning, too.” cloud spoke up, finally lifting his mako-azure eyes to meet yours.

you lowered the flower in your hands, tilting your head. “deeper meaning? i didn’t think flowers were so complex.” you snickered into your free hand before grinning brightly at him. “but, go on. i’m curious!”

the tips of his ears seemed to burn with red as his lips parted before he turned his back to you, folding his arms. “o-on second thought, i forgot..”

“WHAT?? no way, it must be good if you won’t say! come on cloud!” you urged him, moving in front of him to see his face, but all you caught was the faintest smile as he continued to turn away. so cryptic!

➫ 𝓩𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝓕𝗔𝗜𝗥 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ zack uh- as we can tell, he isn’t exactly the ‘think before you speak’ kinda guy — whatever comes out, comes out.. with no regard to how blunt or sudden it might end up sounding.

⌗ now how would that apply to a confession? well, i think he would just say it without even thinking of the impact behind his words. it would just come out naturally, casually.. and you would end up staring like- did he fr just say that??

a sigh left your lips as you turned the page of the newest issue you’d picked up of shinra’s very own magazine, because what didn’t the prestigious electric company have to their name?

meanwhile zack was busying himself with yet another set of squats, clearly antsy. missions had been quiet as of late, mundane even. at the moment, you were both occupying the second class floor, waiting for orders.. but nothing came.

a groan left the nicknamed puppy’s lips as he halted his movements before draping finally himself onto the spot on the couch you hadn’t occupied. “man i bet the firsts are out kicking ass! they really don’t have anything for us to do here??”

you licked your thumb to flip to the next spread, humming. “unless you feel like getting involved with professor hojo’s questionable ass tasks, i’d rather sit here in boredom.” you confessed, missing the grimace on his face since your eyes remained on the passage you had been reading.

“i guess you have a point.. but still.” he pouted, leaning into your face as a means of getting your attention. “can’t we go ask lazard?? he’s gotta have something by now for us, right?!”

a laugh seemed to leave your lips at his complaints as you lifted your eyes at last to meet his zircon ones, a smile stretching across your lips. “and, what? have him tell us no for the fifth time in the last two hours?”

his appendages seemed to part in protest before they jutted out once more. “w-well! for all we know a mission could have popped up on that computer of his right now! with angeal and them gone, they’re bound to ask us! i’m sure of it!” the second class SOLDIER insisted, clenching his fists in determination. “come on, y/n! it beats reading whatever propaganda you’re reading!”

it was partly true, shinra’s magazine went on and on about sephiroth’s feats if it wasn’t already in the daily paper or news. and one look at those puppy eyes had you crumbling. damn him for that effortlessly adorable face..

“fine, we’ll ask one last time.. but if he says no, you owe me a drink from the vending machine since i paid last time!” you huffed out, tossing your copy back on the the coffee table as you stood up with your hands on your hips.

as though sparkles had appeared in his eyes, zack hopped to his feet before engulfing you in a tight hug. “for real?? you’re the best, y/n!! i love you! i love you! i love you!!”

➫ 𝓖𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗦 𝓡𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗦𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗦 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ ah, the romantic and the one that does too much because everyone else ain’t doing enough ( his words ) — genesis. you can expect a very enigmatic brain scratching confession..

⌗ or in other words, the cheesiest kind of confession that involves poetry, some form of incorporation with loveless, and just some frivolous display of his affections for you in case you don’t pick up on the hints..

“y/n, my dear! won’t you hang back awhile? our work is done for today.. perhaps you’ll indulge me in a piece i worked on, hm?” the redhead spoke up, causing you to pause in your tracks as you blinked over at him.

a piece? “you mean.. poetry?” you inquired for certainty, surprised that he had the spare time to be writing something. “i’m not the best at deciphering metaphors and whatnot.. but i’d be willing to hear what you have.” you smiled, eager to see what he had been working on in his free time.

“not to worry!” he waved you off, pulling out a small notebook from his long coat. “even the foolish and emotionally unintelligent, like our beloved sephiroth could understand!” genesis laughed out, fearless of his friend — or in his eyes, rival — as usual.

you let out a nervous chuckle as you pulled up a chair to hear what he’d prepared, praying that your silver haired friend did not hear.. not that he would care, anyway. just genesis being genesis.. “well um, i’ll do my best to somewhat comprehend what you wrote.” you offered, anyway, placing your hands on your lap as a means of resting them.

the male dressed in crimson took it as a sign to commence, lifting his fist up to clear his throat before holding up his poem. “in a bed of asters, the tears of the goddess.. blossoms a favored one amidst a world or filth and endless disasters — a beauty that wears star formed petals for a bodice..and adorns droplet shaped blades of which its creator once wept.” genesis paused, trailing a finger down to the next line. “one day, a new flower would emerge — tall, scarlet, and proud.. tenderly well kept, and yet.. as sorrowed as a rain cloud.”

you almost wanted to question why, curiosity overtaking you despite the urge to giggle at a few.. choice of words he made. how couldn’t you when it was so reminiscent of the usual reciting he did of his most favorite work of literature.

compelled by your zealousness, you fed into your inquisitiveness. “why was it sorrowed?”

a soft chuckle tumbled past his lips at the awe in your voice as he closed the book with a low hum. “for it was loveless, without its starry accomplice.. that bloomed on a path far away enough to diverge.” he finished gently before sliding a hand to your cheek. “nevertheless, that is but fiction.. as our paths will remain entwined, and my heart shall not bleed with my beloved star around.”

➫ 𝓐𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗔𝗟 𝓗𝗘𝗪𝗟𝗘𝗬 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ ah, yes, the confession of his love.. yet another unspoken way of proclaiming his feelings for you, although i believe his method may just be a little more meaningful.. but just a little.

⌗ however, what would call for the confession exactly, and the realization of his feelings? personally, i believe it’d have either been something in the heat of the moment — in other words, you being in danger, or perhaps.. an inquiry, in regards to the buster sword glued to his back.

“earlier..” your began, eyeing your lover with a curious gaze. “that was the first i’d ever seen you draw the buster sword.. for the longest time, i convinced myself it was decorative, or something.. but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

the rag in angeal’s hand came to a pause at the question, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “i remember zack asking me that several times before and i still haven’t presented him with a proper answer.” he mused, eyes softening as he gazed upon his weapon. “growing up, my family was not one for riches. we had enough to get by, thankfully, but making money was hard work on my parents — specifically my father.”

a breeze passed through the few strands of hair that frames his face as he gazed upon the sky. “still, he had wanted to gift me something for passing the SOLDIER exam, and had this forged for me.” he smiled gently, closing his eyes. “it took him a very long time to recover financially for his debts in having this buster made, so long that it cost him his very life in the end..” the first class SOLDIER spoke up, allowing his eyes to lower back down to the blade in his hands. “and so, i do my best to avoid bringing any wear, tear or rust upon it.. as it represents not only my dreams and honor, but the efforts and sacrifice for its creation.” he finished steadily, finally meeting your stare. “but for you, i would draw it without a second thought.”

your boyfriend was already impressive to begin with- the most humble and noble person you had come to know.. but this? it had left you in complete awe to know how sentimental he truly was, despite his stoic demeanor. and for him to have used his beloved weapon to shield you from harm — what did that mean? that he.. held you in higher regard than it..?

“you.. you would do that for me?” your inquiry was stupid, as he had done it once already, earlier in fact.. but angeal nodded, regardless, the small smile on his lips expanding, even if it was just a pinch wider.

“if it guarantees your safety.. in a heartbeat.” he answered with little delay, a fondness in his mako tinted eyes — one that he only ever really showed to you.

notes. zack being the only one who actually says i love you verbatim.. meanwhile the others are cryptic and expect you to guess ( cloud.. genesis.. ) or say it without needing to say those three words.. crazy tbh

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[itsquakey]

Galacta Knight speculation, theories, and ideas (INCLUDES NEW ART)

Okay so since I've discovered a cute little detail during my SA replay, I've decided to go all in and talk about Galacta and potential ideas I have around the character because I like speculating and making a ton of things up before a Kirby game comes out so I can see how correct I was in the end.

Spoilers for Star-crossed world theories, Star Allies, Super Kirby Clash and a buncha other stuff below:

Why did Galacta Knight get sealed away? We're really only told that he was sealed in "fear of his great power" and Hyness' rant might imply some things or two (and looking back on it, that rant feels like it could be Galacta saying it in certain areas honestly...) but we really don't know what event caused this sealing to happen or the little details of it. Was Gala still the hero when he was sealed away? Or did he become something more malicious? I'm aware of a theory that's been around for a while, I believe since Star Allies? That the reason Galacta acts the way he does is because he somehow became possessed by a Jamba heart or Void Termina itself.

We DO see a Jamba heart floating around space in Super Kirby Clash with Aeon Hero Dark/Galacta Knight AND some little detail I noticed is that Meta knight, when under the influence of a Jamba heart has almost the EXACT same eye color of Gala when we see him later in an extra area of the game.

From what I've seen, the tones are oh so slightly different but are pretty much the same overall color which is very interesting to someone like me, especially because Gala's original design had red eyes, but then in Star Allies and onward his design changed, and his eye color was one of those things.

Perhaps, Galacta knight, one of the heroes of yore, helped seal away Void Termina. In a last ditch effort to continue its reign of destruction it managed to grab hold of Gala, either straight up possessing him or using a Jamba heart to put him under its influence. Galacta then went on a rampage and ironically fell to the very same fate as the thing he helped seal away.

Perhaps-like Meta when he was under the Jamba heart influence-Gala's eyes AREN'T this pink color naturally. Maybe they're that crisp red color like before? Or maybe they're teal to match the bestie known as Elflis who has some teal/magenta colors in its design. Maybe they're blue like Kirby or yellow like Meta. We likely won't know until this theory is proven right at some point.

Now, I've kept my eye out for more information since the DLC's trailer first came out so yes, I know about the starrie gacha figs.

Creatures capable of sealing away great evil, but at the risk of them sealing themselves away is interesting to say the least. If we're going with the "starries = Gala's soul" theory it could imply that this is all talking about Gala himself who helped seal away Void termina; but if he ended up getting possessed in the end he had to be sealed away to prevent the evil from spreading.

OR

Perhaps these starries were responsible for sealing away Gala, and work tirelessly to keep the seal unbroken as best they can. Perhaps when Gala's crystal was freed from being in another dimension and crashing into the forgotten land caused the starrie's power to wane and the seal be semi-broken.

I actually have a very sketchy story-boarded concept for the 'final cutscene' of Star-crossed world, with Kirby being responsible for freeing Gala from his possession which then gives the starries a reason to free the warrior from his crystal seal:

IF Gala is a potential character we get to see more of in this DLC, and we get to see his personality I'd be curious to know the type of person he would be. Would he have a naturally jolly disposition like Kirby or a quiet stoic one like Meta knight? Would he be angry at the world for what it did to him like Hyness or be accepting and understand? I also wonder if he'd speak entirely in the ancient tongue and not understand us nor us understanding him (maybe like the forgotten land language they'll give us some hints to decipher it?). Maybe he can talk, which would be interesting because we could scope his personality through it.

Perhaps when we fight him he's coked up on the Jamba heart influence AND whatever crystalization he may be under. Maybe he has phases where he switches to Aeon hero light and then Aeon hero dark which vastly makes the fight more difficult and adds new movesets to the fight. I wouldn't be surprised if the colosseum gets one or two new challenges and those forms are present there if Gala is DLC endgame. I wonder if Morpho would show up though maybe not. It already tried to eat Elflis it might be not interested into going after a mainline Galacta knight.

That's all I'll chatter about now! My next update might be another reblog to the DLC theory post when I get a lot more information to work with.

[adventuretolkienlover]

TFA Theory Time! :D

So some people showed some interest in this theory of mine. So I decided to go into more detail with it! I made a chart too, but it's kinda big. So here's a smaller version.

Basically it's showing that for some reason, the Dinobots show great similarity to both Prowl and Bulkhead in appearance. Now while I'm absolutely using this detail as shipping fuel, I feel like it also points to something much bigger! A part of the Cybertronian life cycle that seems to have not been uncovered. The key lies with (ironically) Sari Sumdac.

(Quick thing to mention. I'm aware that this theory may not be completely sound. I tried to make it sound as possible, but I'm sure I missed a few points. Please keep that in mind while reading.)

Rest is under the cut because this is LOOOOOONG.

SARI SUMDAC

First, let's start off at the beginning. Sari Sumdac's creation is most certainly a mystery. But the few details we saw give huge insight to the Cybertronian life cycle!

Sari was found in Issac Sumdac's personal laboratory. She mysteriously appeared, with no clear sign of break in. Upon touching her, Sari glowed brightly, absorbed Isaac's DNA, and sent out an electric shock that knocked him out. This is very important. Why? Because up into this point, we didn't know Protoforms had that capability.

(Excerpt taken from the All Spark Almanac) Protoforms were born from primeval pools of protoform metal on Cybertron and assumedly, without genetic influence from biological parents. Unless implanted with another being’s DNA. (Like the Starscream and Omega clones) But Sari's case seems to point to them being able to take on genetic and physical traits from whoever has first contact with them. The process is evidently quite powerful as well, since it knocked Issac out cold and resulted in him gaining a white streak in his hair.

Now, to be clear, Sari could be an outlier. This ability may not be in all Cybertronian Protoforms. There's evidence that absorbing others powers and weapons may be her unique super power. (As shown in how once upgraded, she somehow has acquired the ability to produce a hammer like Ultra Magnus's, and was reportedly going to have weapons matching other Autobots as well, in season 4.) This idea is further enforced in the TFcon exclusive story Return of Blurr, were she merges with Blurr's cubed form and gained his speed abilities.

However, when Prowl explains Sari's origin to Issac and the others, he doesn't seem the least bit surprised that Sari absorbed his DNA. Furthering the idea this is normal for Protoforms.

(Please excuse the poor YouTube subtitles. Lol.)

So, for the sake of this theory, let's assume that all protoforms have this ability (in some form) and carry on.

THE DINOBOTS

Next up, the Dinobots. Robots that were created by Megatron, but somehow gained sentience assumedly through the All Spark Key, and the Cybertronian technology Issac Sumdac implanted in them. The Dinobots are technically at protoform age, seeing that as of their debut episode they had just been "born". It's quite obvious in how they talk they don't know much about their world and are very impressionable.

Now, if we look back at the previous evidence we listed. Something starts to click. The three bots that had the most contact with them are Megatron, Prowl, and Bulkhead.

Megatron's workmanship is evidently in their color schemes, mostly reddish tones and grey like him. This makes sense, since he cold constructed them. (E.I. they weren't born from Cybertron’s hot spots naturally and he had influence in designing their bodies.) But what about things like their faces? This is where it gets weird. Megatron assumedly didn't plan for them to be sentient or be able to transform, since he referred to them as attack drones. He was also surprised they could talk. And his blueprints of them didn't have bot forms included.

So he didn't have a hand in designing their bot forms. Those were granted to them through the All Spark. (Perhaps it granted them some sort of protoform? Or something not quite a typical Protoform but either similar DNA absorption abilities.)

The main point is this. Seemingly, the two bots that touched them the most, were Prowl and Bulkhead. Two bots they share physical traits with. With all the evidence we've gathered so far, it would seem they absorbed Prowl and Bulkhead's DNA, like Sari did with Issac! Meaning they could be related the same way!

IMPLICATIONS

Now that we’ve covered all that evidence, I think we should take a quick look at the implications of this process. It could lead to some VERY interesting theories about Cybertronian life cycles and Protoforms. Especially explaining characters like Wheelie, who is classified explicitly as an "orphan", meaning he is without parents, (something Cybertronians apparently don't have typically) and is explicitly referred to as a child like Sari.

Meanwhile the other Protoforms look to be already adults and can take on adult forms. This hints at perhaps there being two types of protoforms. Ones already aged to adulthood and ready for the world. And ones that are less mature and perhaps raised by biological parents or caretakers. Perhaps the ability to absorb other beings traits (without outside help), is something only very young newly forged Protoforms can do.

(Pictured below, Sari’s Protoform compared to the ones in the Cyberninja dojo)

It would also seem that they need to have sparks as well, since the protoform Prowl grabbed from the chamber was Sparkless and didn’t shock him or absorb his DNA. (Sorry for the horrendous screenshot. It's the best I had.😅) They must be alive for this phenomenon to occur.

OR, this could merely be because the Protoform was already matured to a point where it no longer had that ability. We may never know.¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

CONCLUSION

We’ve finally made it to the end! Yay! :D Lol. Now, I know this theory most likely has MULTIPLE problems and canon contradictions with it. But I thought it was kinda neat regardless. And I tried to make it as water tight as possible. Regardless if this theory works or not, I'm happy you took the time to enjoy it! Please drop a comment about your own thoughts bout this if you like! I'd love to hear it! (My only request is that you are polite and respect other people's opinions.👍)

Thanks for reading!

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hey!!! So i saw your Valentine event, can i please ask for a situationship to lover with nagi (Angst with comfort) ?!!??

🌑of course you can!! :) (working on requests slowly yall, please be patient! :))❣️

𝓓𝓲𝓭 𝓘 𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷?

What even is your life? Lying half-naked on your situationship’s couch on Valentine's day, of all days, while he fucks around with something in his kitchen. The height of this tryst has long since passed already, and on any other day you would already be preparing (at least mentally as your legs wouldn't allow you physical escape) to leave – the least amount of time spent staring at Nagi’s beautiful face or sculpted backside the better.

His silences just make you think a little too hard about some things that really won't do you good to be thinking about, especially today.

The flowers at the grocery store, the heart shaped chocolate boxes, the delighted giggling of couples in front of restaurants – it's all a bit too much for your vulnerable heart. The temptation to change the status quo nearly overtakes you, were it not for the possible consequences.

If only you could find the words to at least ask him, the yearning within so dire you’ll take any response from him, even frigid rejection. 

“Water.” He tells you calmly, bringing you back to the present as he presses a cold bottle to your cheek – still shirtless but with sweatpants on, what a pity.

You take the bottle, still lying there slightly out of breath, now mostly because of the weight on your chest from all that's begging to burst out.

Nagi sits by your legs, turning on the TV without a word. You wonder to yourself if his thoughts take the same paths as yours, but you don't yet know him well enough to tell just by his face.

“Seishiro,” he grunts in acknowledgment, still zapping through channels to find something that interests him. You know you should swallow your doubts and just talk to him, but right now you wish they'd swallow you instead.

Truthfully, deep down, within the part of your brain that's still capable of thinking logically (which seems nigh-unreachable at the moment), you know that Nagi would never make a big deal out of your confession. More likely, he’d brush it off without issue, just as he does everything else.

The thought is somehow comforting enough for your hazy mind, “Do you know what day it is?”

“The 14th.”

“And…” You respond expectantly, sitting up by his side. He side-eyes the movement, lingering on the skin newly exposed by the falling sheet, “... of February…?”

“I'm not asking you for the date, Seishiro.” Letting out a steadying sigh, you prepare yourself for the possibility that he might have no idea what day he's invited you over on and what it could mean for the both of you. Nevertheless, you need to know.

“It’s Valentine’s day. Did you mean to invite me over on Valentine’s day?”

“Yeah.” You’re about to rip your hair out.

“Why?”

Nagi takes a second, letting the random soap opera currently on screen play on without paying it any mind. It doesn't take a genius to guess that the look on his face is one of utter befuddlement – as if he’s trying his hardest to work something out in his head but the answer just keeps evading him. After a full minute of you basically holding your breath, he speaks,

“Because I want to go out with you. Didn't I say that?”

“No?”

“Oh. Well, I was planning to.” The ease with which he treats the whole situation should be endlessly frustrating (and there's a part of you that thinks it is), but it’s mostly impressive and partially appreciated today, as it keeps you from completely freaking out. Your heart slows down to match his, cheeks flushed at his nonchalant confession. And even though he still hasn't looked at you, you can tell how much this really means to him by the pinkish tone on his ears, peeking out amongst his snow white hair.

Smiling fondly, you admire his gorgeous side profile, letting the moment linger as your chest warms from pure fondness for this lovely, lazy, dummy. Grabbing his chin, he lets you turn him to finally face you, droopy eyes uncharacteristically focused, “You can say it now, if you want.” you whisper.

His gaze sweeps over every feature on their own time, before his shiny lips part to speak as quietly as you did, “Wanna go out later? On an actual date, for once?”

“I’d love that, Seishiro.”