#man it's valiant hero thinking hours...

[2-marigold-2]

Am I posting valiant hero art in 2025? Hell yeah I am

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Hold them down

Summary: After years of missing your husband, your suitor decides to take matters into his hands.

Pairings: Dark! Suitor! Marcus Acacius x Queen! Reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Noncon, unprotected sex (p in v) forced infidelity?, plotting of rape, historical inaccuracies, manipulation, rough rough sex, loss of virginity (and related blood), breeding kink, size kink, corruption kink, bondage, planned murder, dark dark and dark,

Inspired by the Epic Musical and the original Odyssey!

Series Masterlist

After the Twin Emperors had fallen, the Gladiator Hanno rose to power, being recognized by Lucilla as his long lost son, Lucius Verus. Succeeding his rise to power, his first order was to have Macrinus, a wealthy businessman and slave owner, executed for his treason against the Democracy of Rome and clear General Acacius' name.

Having decided not to love another woman after the death of his wife, he opted for a political marriage to benefit the city. Cherry picked by senators as the finest of eligible bachelors, you were a perfect match for the new Emperor.

Arriving to Rome from your certainly smaller yet blooming city, Lucius had clarified that he didn't intend in taking you as a lover, rather than as a companion and ally for his ruling; and when the day of giving the kingdom a heir came, the affair would be short and, well he didn't exactly said that word but, meaningless.

You weren't discontented in his boundaries, you weren't there to find a lover but to enlarge the possibilities of your kingdom. As years went by, Lucius had become tender with you, unlike the city that suddenly demanded a Prince. However, as Rome transitioned into a prosperous city, the people seemed to be appeased by being fed and war-less.

As a way to erase Geta and Caracalla's history, Lucius decided to free the colonies in Africa himself, so two years after your marriage he had embarked.

"Take care of Rome for me." He smiled in your bittersweet goodbye, holding your hands in his.

"And who will take care of me then?" You joked, feeling the rough finger pads of his work torn hands; his eyes fell behind your frame, with a confident smile.

"I actually have that covered;" You followed his eye line to see the broad, dark figure behind you. General Marcus Acacius himself, for some a Valiant Hero of Rome, for others, another victim of the deceased emperors' terror. "Acacius will be your personal Guard, in case anyone attempts anything against the Empress of Rome."

Despite the eerie way the General's big brown eyes seemed to narrow over you, you learnt to feel safe with his presence, despite being behind you at all time. It kept you calm as people begun questioning the Emperor's absence, a you begun to question it too.

A year passed, and rumors spread about wars breaking out in the colonies due to their new found freedom. Exploited colonies at war trying to survive from spoils of war, predictable really, but Lucius had wrote to you, soothing you that he was aiding the reconstruction of those societies. That was the last time he had wrote.

Another year went by, and the flourishing nature of Rome kept people from questioning the Emperor's absence, but not you. Your nights became sleepless, as you pondered around your room, perhaps hoping for sudden news, confirmation of something, anything. It was a cold night when your insomnia made you think about the man standing outside your bedroom door. General Acacius.

Silently, in case you regretted it, you tiptoed towards the big ornate door from your shared chambers, and cracked it open. There he stood, clad in his armor as the dim lights of the hallway torches illuminated his face; his right cheekbone held a scar, visible in the warm lighting as he slowly came to look at you. In his two years as your shadow, you had never taken your time to look at him.

"My Queen," He whispered sternly, eyebrows furrowing. "Why are you still awake at this hours?"

You licked your lips guiltily, and his gaze fell onto the thin, almost see through sleepwear you had on under the blanket draped over your shoulders. He could trace the outline of your navel...

"May you come in?" You asked, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your shoulder as you realized how inappropriate this was, but you didn't care; perhaps his war experience could help you calm down. "I cannot conceal sleep, and someone to talk to could be nice."

He obeyed silently, sneaking through the crack on the door. The Emperor's chambers held an extravagant amount of luxuries, left behind by the old Emperor Geta; Lucius had wanted to get rid of them, but as producing an heir, he never got the time to do it.

Acacius' gaze fell over the bed, only your side disrupted as if Lucius was coming back anytime soon. You had sat down in a velvet chair beside the fireplace, hands clutched over a golden cup of raspberry wine. He walked over to you in slow steps, as if expecting you to tell him the issue and leave when commanded. If you hadn't gazed expectantly at the chair beside you, he probably wouldn't have sat down.

"I am unease by Lucius' absence," You confessed, despite the obviousness. "I heard rumors he was fine, back in Numidia, building houses, but he hasn't written to me in over a year."

Acacius hummed, showing he was listening, however your wild eyes indicated that you wanted an answer. "Your concern is reasonable, my Empress, the city shares your discomfort."

You furrowed your brows at his words, surprised the matter was relevant enough to discuss. "I had only heard some questions, but I believe the people knew his circumstances."

"It isn't that they dislike you;" He clarified, sending relief down your stomach. "In fact, they adore you."

You felt your lips twist into a small smile in his words.

"They adore you so much they trust you to rule if, of course let's pray not, Lucius doesn't return."

Your stomach sank once again at the possibility, but Acacius gave you a warm smirk, as if it was a compliment.

"The issue is..." He hesitated, and you saw the reflection of the flames in the brown of his eyes as he looked at you, seriously. "the succession."

You hummed, intrigued to what he was meaning. Your eyes asked him to explain more, and he let out a breathe when the blanket slipped off your shoulders, allowing him to see the outline of sometihing far more tempting than your navel.

"If Lucius hasn't been home for almost two years by now, and you haven't been with child yet, the senate fears the throne may spiral once again to a tyrant after your passing."

You shook your head in confusion, a new worry appearing and attaching itself to your chest. "Why haven't I been informed of this fear?"

Acacius chuckled lightly, as if you were too naive to understand; it made you feel small, stupid.

"They do not wish to offend you, my majesty." He explained, and you scowled. "Now, you are in your prime age for...carrying an heir...but if Lucius is to be gone for longer, let's say four more years, you'd be pass that age, and thus..."

"Anyone could take the throne." You completed, understatement dooming in your features. "But I couldn't...Lucius could be back tomorrow for all I know."

"There still is time," He reassured, taking the cup of wine from the table. "but the lack of knowledge of his stance is, as you say, uneasy for most of the Senate, and of course the people of Rome."

As you sipped more wine, you leaned over the armrest of your chair, as if wishing to keep the conversation as private as possible, but all he could see was the way your breast, unconsciously, became visible from your neckline. His breathe hitched.

"As a knowledgeable and prestigious General," You asked, eyes wide and frantic. "what should I do?"

He pretended to think for a while then sighed. "In confidence, I believe you should wait for him, perhaps a year or two, and if he isn't here by then and you haven't received any notice, you should remarry, just for the sake of your wellness and the city's."

You almost gasped from his words, the alcohol inhibiting your senses. "My sake?" You manage to question him, words starting to slur. Of course they did, you had been drinking for hours trying to catch sleep.

"The people may believe that you are intertwined in the fall of the city," he whispered, eyes wild as if he was personally offended by what the people may do. "They can believe you have arranged it all to set someone in the throne, they might riot, and we know from our old Emperors that rioting never goes well; imagine what they could do to a women such as yourself."

Acacius' words stained your mind for the next year, as Lucius failed to prove his existence once again. You had proposed the idea to the Senate, who seemed surprised by your initiative; Acacius had later told you that they didn't expect a woman as devoted as you to determine that if Lucius didn't appear or made himself known in the next year, you would seek another man to remarry to provide the heir, but that it was what all of them believed to be correct. You had grown fond of him in the last year, inviting him for wine in those restless nights and him informing you from what the Senate was too scared to tell you. As Lucius had grown to be a close friend, so did Acacius.

Which is why, after two years had passed and you had to teary-eyed greet the suitors that had came wishing to become the Emperor of Rome, you were taken a back when General Acacius presented himself before any of them, asking for your hand. His thick frame, clad in his white honorary attire along with ten of his best trained soldiers trailing behind him, had profusely scared all the other suitors that stumbled and staggered on their words after him.

Which is what made you jump on him like a rabid dog once they had gone to their rooms and Acacius was the only one i the throne room with you. Standing up from your golden throne, identical to the empty one beside you, your feet stomped near him. He was awfully tranquil, almost smirking at you.

"May I know why you have proposed as a suitor?" You bellowed at him, praying this was a sick, twisted joke, like you had joked that your "Guard dog" of a General would scare them off.

"Because, my Empress, the senate and I believe that a true Emperor needs to be one who knows how to handle the rise of Rome into democracy." He explained, and you felt a pang of betrayal, jealousy even, as the Senate had allegedly preferred to discuss such matters with him rather than the actual Empress. "One that has aided in it's rise and is skilled at controlling the city; one that could guide you through ruling."

"You said they trusted me." You protested, looking up at him; despite being furious, you could see by the way he craned his neck to look down at you that he didn't feel threatened, at all.

"They do, I assure you that; but the uneducated and starved people of Rome won't take a women as an Emperor, much less if she has some foreigner as a husband." The way he sneered at you told you he had this planned. "But you and I know that you are smart enough to know I am your best opportunity; I am a war Hero and a symbol of democracy, my Empress, the people would riot if you chose any other man."

You glared, never expecting this from him. He enjoyed the way you stormed out of his view, silky dress swishing as he laughed so hard, he almost dropped the carefully stacked letters that told him Lucius would be home in six months.

Almost as if you knew, you had delayed your choice for four months by then, posing impossible challenge after challenge, simply to get on Acacius nerves. But he did not even falter; even if it was bringing dozens of water buckets across the city, taming wild horses or swimming with crocodiles to retreat minuscules gold pieces from the bottom of the murky river, Acacius managed to have win after win. For most people, it was becoming clearly ridiculous how adamant you were against Acacius.

If he had proposed the idea to you things would have been different, but he had planted seeds of doubts in the Senate about your capabilities, evidenced by your revengeful behavior in presenting tasks. The more you fought with Acacius, the more the Senate seemed to become wary of you and the more the people of Rome called you frivolous. You acknowledged the last part, as you were now dedicating more time in plotting unachievable tasks than governing the city.

As grief for mourning Lucius meddled with the new issues of the city, Acacius looked at you victoriously; naked war torn torso and a shining emerald in his hand as he retrieved from the river, almost waving goodbye to the last bunch of suitors you have scared away.

Almost 5 months had passed since you had greeted the suitors, and the only one still standing was Acacius. As you walked into the Senate's room, you caught wind of something that drove you wild.

"If the wedding is going to be next week, then we would need to at least levy taxes until the end of the season to compensate for the rise-"

"What wedding?" You bellowed, and the Senator who was speaking quickly silenced himself as the whole room turned their heads towards you. Marcus stood, dressed in his best, before rising his goblet to you; it took you a while to see from where he was rising from, Lucius' throne.

"There aren't anymore suitors," He informed, and his name rolled out of his tongue mockingly. "Next year you'll turn 28, and we cannot risk it anymore."

"And has this council decided this over me, their Empress?" Your gaze fell on the senators around you, men who rolled their eyes as if you were taking up their time; as if calling your self the Empress was a mockery. "Has the council forget Lucius had chose me to rule by his side and not just to produce an heir?"

"This Council had chosen you," Acacius corrected, and you felt the tips of your ears burn up in embarrassment. "and if Lucius had given the city an heir this wouldn't be an issue, but he didn't and thus, I am the most suitable option."

You dug your nails into your palms, seething at him.

"And this Council believes it is correct to plan a wedding without consulting the bride?" You hissed at them. “What do the people think?”

"There had been riots in the south due to the succession," A senator informed you. "You would have known if you had attended the last meeting."

You felt fury pile up in your throat, as if itching to scream, because no one that even told you about the last meeting. You felt caged by these men, and Acacius grinning peacefully at you, that conniving snake of a man had turned the Council against you.

You sighed, tears kissing the brim of your eyes in frustration before clapping your hands together. “If the people of Rome wish me to marry, I will, however please give me a week to mourn, properly, the loss of our Emperor. I will marry Marcus Acacius in two weeks time, without complaint.”

Acacius’ smiled fell, and you believed your surrender had annoyed him.

“Haven’t you got two years already to do so?” He bit at you, and the Senate looked around bewildered by Acacius sudden lack of manners.

“Oh I know it is a selfish desire, but it would facilitate the process for me.” You pouted to the people of the Senate, who became more understanding after you agreed to marry him. “If that is all, I am to leave.”

You walked through the door calmly, running the second the Council could no longer see you. He had trapped you, backed you up against a wall and showed your scared self to the whole Senate of Rome. As you unlocked the door, precaution you took everyday since Acacius had proposed, you felt a shadow lurk around the corner. You almost jump when you saw him, striding towards you. If you were to open the door, he could have pushed inside, and if you stayed there, god knows what he could do. So you stayed frozen.

He called your name, rather than my Empress; it was a way of stabilizing dominance. You glared at him, hand on the door knob.

“I hope that you can come to see our marriage as more than a political ploy.” He grinned, as if he was one of those brand new suitors that attempted to gain your trust while flirting. “I certainly can’t wait to give the city an heir.”

The way he looked at you urged you to run and hide.

“I have nothing to discuss with you, Acacius.” You responded, pushing the door slightly open to slip inside. “You have betrayed my trust.”

As you were about close the gap from were to entered, the General placed his big hands on the door, speaking to you from the ajar door.

“What is it, my Empress?” He pressed, the door becoming thousand times heavier under his strength. “Are you scared about the consummation, because you and Lucius had never really…?”

With a burst of strength you managed to push the door closed, resting your sweaty eyebrow to the cool ornate door as tears begun pouring from your eyes. Since Acacius had proposed you stopped inviting him at night, and locked the door. Some nights, as wind rustles trees and all you heard was his feet creaking the floorboards outside your room, you could also hear a faint rustle, and attempt to open your locked door, as if you could have forgotten to lock it some day.

That was another thing that was slowly driving you mad.

The next week went by organizing wedding affairs, and you begun to question what your plan was after begging to get married in two weeks. It had been stupid, you guessed, something that had strikes over your head as you looked over at a statue of Athena. You prayed for her strength.

Acacius loomed over your figure as he had done years before your friendship had bloomed, although the ghost of a creeping grin appeared in his face more than usually. You attempted really, to see the good side, but the fact that he had manipulated you into proposing the idea and then used it to his advantage deeply sickened you.

It was about two days from the wedding day when Acacius had disappeared almost all day, and you felt at peace by his absence. As the tailor arranged your wedding dress, clearly just a reconstruction of the old one, you heard him gallop through the entrance of the Palace, holding something on his hand.

“The Emperor is dead.” He told the Senate, holding up a letter he had received from the colonies. “Let the news not startle us from guiding Rome towards glory.”

You furrowed your brows, Lucilla next to you breaking into a deep sob.

“What does the letter say?” You asked him, and he looked at you as if you were testing him.

“Would be cruel to discuss the details of the dead infront of his mother, my future wife.”

You almost felt bile rising up to your throat from the words he said.

That night you became even more restless, so much it physically hurt. The night had been one of the coldest the was and a thundering storm had grown from the coast of Rome up until the palace. It felt like a message from the Gods, with all the thundering you couldn’t hear the door knob nor the hushed whispers behind it.

Your eyes were closed but just a thin layer of drowsiness was on top of you, not enough for you to peacefully sleep without the hammering at your temple. That is when you felt the bed dip beside you, and his scent brought you jumping up.

“Lucius?” You questioned through the darkness of the night, his perfume thick in the air.

“I am so sorry to inform you that Lucius is gone.”

Acacius. Your blood froze as your eyes fluttered open. In the darkness, the door hadn’t been opened because you could have seen the torch lights from the crack. There had been another way he had gotten in.

“However, he will return tomorrow night, to find his wife has remarried.”

You looked over his figure, lit by the moonlight entering from the balcony.

Broad shoulders and the willowy of his Roman nose.

“But he might as well return tomorrow morning, and that is why I must secure my claim.”

He spoke with such tranquility it send shivers down your spine. The fireplace had gone off, leaving burning embers. You looked at the door once again, still locked, by the time you could have gotten there he would have caught you. He was stronger, faster and more agile.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked him, voice quivering. He begun untying his armor, letting it clank slowly into the ground, accompanying the sound of lightning outside.

“Because I had been tempted with you from the day you arrived, little girl.” The nickname felt warm, but it spat out of his tongue like poison. “I was the one who had saved the city, but Prince Lucius got the crown, the power, and he got you.”

“Wh-What is it about me that you want?” You choked out, breathing startling as his robes pooled at his feet.

“If Lucius is set to return and you have already consummated your marriage to me, my heir would be on the throne.” He explained, and you got a deja vu of that night when you had invited him in; the same tone. “You’ll probably still be married to him, due to the coincidence, but you will be carrying my child. It will be our secret to history; an Emperor, son of a General.”

You slowly pulled the blankets from your body, thinking that if you were to arrive to the balcony, perhaps you could scream for help.

“Wasn’t it me that you wanted?” You persisted, entertaining him to distract him as you feet softly touched the cool marble floor, he had hunched over to undo his sandals.

“Well, of course, but the Emperor is gone a lot, he is too busy to notice-“

The sound of your feet padding against the floor made him turn, seeing you race until the balcony. He jumped over the bed, eyes rabid as a predator chasing a prey. The cold air of the balcony struck you, along with droplets of rain that all over you. Gripping onto the bannister, you screamed, but no sound came out, his hand clapped tightly over your mouth as his other clung to your torso, securing you to him.

“Stupid girl.” He bellowed, dragging you inside. You could feet the heat of his naked body, chest pressed against you, as you felt his stiffening cock against your lower back. It all felt too real, suddenly. He tossed you to the bed, climbing on top quickly and caging you. Just his immense back was enough to restrict your movements. You cried and punched his chest, attempting to push him to no avail.

As one hand splashed across your chest to keep you still, the other moved down, slipping between your silk gown. It dragged punishing between your tights, forcing them apart with his thick waist. It found the patch of pubic hair, hiding something sweet for him in its center. You could almost hear him smirk.

“Are you wet?” He asked, teasingly as his index finger ran across your slit. He then took his hand back out, presenting two fingers to you. “Suck, and make them wet or I’ll fuck you as dry as you are right now. Don’t you dare bite.”

You opened your mouth slightly, and he introduced two thick digits into your mouth; your tongue swirled around them, tasting the strong taste of perfume. He had taken the time to put on Lucius’ scent, perhaps to taunt you.

Once pleased, he pulled them out of your mouth and directed them to where they were before, bunching your dress at your hips. His fingers now grazed more softly, wet, and he rubbed them into your slit, finding a beaded nerve at the top.

You had touched yourself before; sometimes Lucius would come back drunk after dealing with claims and work all day; you excused him such actions, he had a lot to deal with. And he wouldn’t touch you, but he would hug you and hold you close, and that minimum amount of contact would drive you wild. You knew what was coming when he began circling around your flesh, the wetness that spread and threatened to burst at the tip of your lips.

“Feel how wet are you getting for me? has your husband ever get you like this?” He pressed, slipping one thick digit inside; your walls swallowed it, hugging it tightly; he almost moaned at the heat, the tightness of your core. “Are the rumors true? that you have never consummated your marriage?”

His voice was stern once again, as if he was one of the court ladies asking you about it; you thought to tell him the typical lie, that you had consummated but the stress of running the rising Rome had taken a toll on you, and that you will wait. However, you thought for a second that if you were honest perhaps he would stop.

“Yes,” you spat, eyes shut tightly as you felt your body betraying you, hips almost buckling. “we never…never had the chance.”

He chuckled, deep in his chest. “Then I’ll have another thing he doesn’t.”

His jealousy was almost childlike; he wished you because you weren’t his.

His fingers worked inside you, preparing you. Your mind, fogged with pleasure, attempted to see any way you could fight back; perhaps he’d be weaker once he entered you. Perchance you’d loose that part of you but escape his seed.

Seeing you still, the hand holding you down came up to rip the top of your night gown as a thunder cracked the sky. Your peaks hardened under the unforgiving cold night, and your body started to yearn for the heat of his body. His gaze roamed your tits, recalling the first night you had invited him in, perfect in form and size for him despite you not being keen on them.

“Such a fucking good pair,” He murmured, hand skimming over them, groping them barbarically as his other hand sped up, adding another finger, eliciting a gasp from you. “once you are my wife you aren’t going to parade around court with those skimpy dresses you love, or invite any guards inside at such hours of the night.”

Through your gasp you had realized that his words were becoming sloppier, he was forgetting his plans. You had to wait. He pinched your nipple as he begun curling his fingers, sending a jolt of energy and pressure to your core, places you had never reached.

You felt sudden emptiness when he pulled out his fingers, and you met out a shuddered sight of relief. Tears ran into your scalp, tears you hadn’t notice you were crying. His hand dipped between his naked body as the other finished ripping your nightgown, and as he let out a grunt you knew he was grabbing his cock. It bumped against your leg, and its own weight made you cry harder; you knew he was big.

“Still,” he commanded, seeing you shake. “Or I’ll shove it all in.”

You did your best, clenching your eyes as you attempted to wake up from this nightmare. Praying that it was once, that is.

He pressed the tip in, almost as big as your fist. The big head slowly broke through your walls, and he was shaking now too, lips parted and eyes clenched, that was all you could see as lightning striked the sky once again. “Feels so good,” he muttered under his breath, gripping your shoulders tightly. “I’m sorry-I can’t-“

He pushed in, all eight inches of himself and you let out a sharp cry he shushed pressing his lips towards him. Full and tasting of wine, a breathe than had fanned over your cheek but you had chosen to ignore. The scruff of his beard scratched against your face, but the pain of his cock was worse.

Thick and long, it had broken through the thin barrier of skin; your hymen or constricting walls, you didn’t know. He planted his weight in his knees and forearms, caging you as your legs dangled at the side of his imposing hips.

“I am not sorry for what I am doing.” He clarified, voice airy from delight. “But I am sorry for this, my queen, I cannot control it.”

Before you could confuse yourself about what he meant, he begun thrusting into you, curling his hips as some animal in heat. Your moans were in pain and his were in pleasure as he melted onto you; he was fucking you so hard you felt as if he was trying to imprint the shape of his cock into you; it felt like hours, and it probably was too, his lips momentarily trying to catch your unresponsive ones, silencing moans and cries.

You knew then that there was no escape, no way you could push this man off you. You felt something wet growing, but now you were sure it wasn’t arousal.

“So good of a pussy,” He grunted into your ear, now gripping your thigh as if he was attempting to spread you even more open. “gonna fuck a son into you, make you finally mine.”

His words only created more tears, as if that was their only aim.

“Such a sweet Empress, s-so eager to please everyone, such a fucking. Good. Girl.”

He synced his thrusts with the last words, each more punishing than the previous.

“So loyal too,” he cooed, mockingly, teeth kneeding at your neck. “loyal to her absent husband.”

He was leaving marks, you knew that. His arm suddenly wrapped around you waist, muscle flexing as he hoists into the air and you fell down deeper into his cock. Your arms braced itself in his shoulder for support, sheets almost sticking to your back due to the sweat that had pooled. One hand in your lower back and and the other groping your ass tightly as he fucked into the air, making you feel every ridge and vein in his member.

“Gonna cum,” he confessed, unashamed. “right into this cunt.”

“No no please-” you mustered all your strength to say, but he was far too gone, plopping you once again on the bed but then bringing your thighs together and slinging your legs over his shoulder, clutching them together as his cock came in and out almost fully. His final thrusts felt as if he was trying to reach your guts, cock tensing and twitching inside you, before shooting hot ropes of cum right into you as his full body weight fell onto you, stretching you to the point your knees almost touched your face. He caught himself in his hands a few moments later, pulling out.

You hadn’t noticed, but the sun begun to peak from the balcony, signaling morning. The tears had dried from your face. As your legs fell back onto the bed, you saw the blood. Around your thighs, into the bed and around his cock and pubic hair. Staining the scene as a gruesome crime scene.

You felt your cunt start to throb, painfully. Your hand stopped by your pelvis, also in pain alike your legs.

“Took it so good,” he praised, and now you could see him better. Body scarred, some fresh scars from your scratching, wild brown curly hair, his take tell scar on his left cheekbone and blown out dark eyes. He was terrifying as he observed your core, blood and cum and arousal just peeking through the swollen folds. “but I forgot something.”

No, you thought, too tired to protest as his fingers found your sensitive pussy once more. You shook your head as your hand attempted to grip his, but he looked at you as a warning.

“Need to make you cum.” He demanded, fingers slipping in way easily than before. “Quickly.”

It sounded like a promise, but it was his aim. Two fingers lodged inside you, a thumb in your clit and his other hand gripping your fighting wrists. Curling his fingers and rubbing you, was all it take. You felt the pleasure build up, and shame spread through your face as the faucet turned on and you sobbed once again.

If he was to rape you, that was one thing, but if he was to make you cum on his fingers, make you feel pleasure in all of this, that was twisted. That was a blow in your honor.

He wouldn’t stop, a bit more forceful that you would have desired, but he was a man on a mission. You suddenly felt as if you needed to pee, shame flickering over your body as you tried to shut your legs, but his hand was stern and no amount of pressure would make him retreat.

He managed to bring you to your climax, pleased smirk plastered on his face as your pussy begun shooting arousal. You cried harder, choking through moans from the pleasure he was forcing upon you, seeing how you soaked his softening cock and hand. He took his hand out, wet and crimson stained, and brought it to his lips. He hummed at the taste of you.

“Gotta taste this pussy some day, perhaps tomorrow in our wedding night.”

You were too gone to actually listen to his words as he used the scraps of your night gown to clean the blood on his body, and slipped into his armor once again.

He then walked over to you, picking once again the scraps and tearing them into long pieces. He grabbed your wrists and you allowed him, too tired to fight him.

He used the straps to tie you to the bedhead; then pulling another piece to go around your mouth. It was futile to attempt anything.

��A Numidian ship is embarking today, carrying your precious husband, let’s see if I can get to him first.”

And he left you, bound and naked.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

Will you do the Mr steal your girl then make her cry I think it was #12 🥺 with kiribaku x reader or izuku x reader🥺👉🏼👈🏼 -🧚🏽‍♀️🧚🏽‍♀️

decided to do izuku <3

“mr. steal your girl, then make her cry…”

(izuku midoriya)

izuku midoriya, a sweetheart. a new rising hero. everyone’s favourite. a safeplace, if refuge was a person, a ray of sunshine.

izuku midoriya, who broke your heart.

and its so funny. no one expected that after 2 years of engagement, you’d suddenly break things off.

at dinner parties, he’d talk about rings and cradles, topping off his old friend’s wine bottles. he’d fill yours to the brim, almost as if to keep you quiet about the recent argument that took place mere hours before. he’d insist that he was too busy for kids, let alone plan a wedding any time soon. you could see the stress wearing him down and it killed you, but also made you wonder if he, the supposed sweetheart you once knew him as, was anything like that at all.

on your 23rd birthday, you want to forgive him, based on the way his eyes teared up when you told him the one day he’d forgotten about. but he never actually apologized, instead opting to suddenly invite everyone you two knew earlier and constantly place you in the spotlight. he’d crudely throw together an over baked cake with your name spelled out in the frosting you don’t like, a valiant attempt at covering up the fact that he had forgot. you clean up beer cans from the floor in silence.

or on new years, when you two planned a special dinner together, only for him to never make it home. you call him 64 times out of worry and frustration, wondering just what could have happened to him. you’re quickly snapped out of that when katsuki texts you a video of your fiancée, drunk at a different party.

and everyone is cheering for him. he’s the best hero japan has ever seen. he’s kind, and selfless, and the best god damn symbol of peace there could ever be.

he’s also the man that left you sobbing in your apartment, packing up in a suitcase.

[areyoutheregoditsmejessica]

sorry for not wanting to watch yet another series where even when the black woman lives she’s still “sacrificial” in her love.

i’ll never believe that anyone should come before one’s own kids.

however,

i feel sorry for season 2 athena who watched her involuntarily-high-on-LSD boyfriend stand on the ledge of a firehouse in hopes to be reunited with his family if he just stepped off and died. i feel sorry that athena offered to shoulder the burden with him.

i feel sorry for season 2 athena who was so excited about may’s homecoming dress but once she realized how uncomfortable her boyfriend was, dialed back because she always cautious of the sensitivity surrounding his lost children.

i feel sorry for season 2 athena who asked bobby to move in to her house because she knew that the idea of another family, an instant family scared him but took that leap of faith anyway.

i feel sorry for season 5 athena who noticed her husband had the weight of the world in his shoulders so she decided to hesitantly offer up the idea for them to take the honeymoon they never had only for him to not say yes.

i feel sorry for season 7 athena who had to hear her husband say in what they both thought were their last minutes together on earth that he never deserved her, but he kept building a life with her anyway.

i feel sorry for season 7 athena who verbally expressed to her husband that she was concerned about his odd behavior and how she continues to fear his actions but stays anyway because she hoped she could love him enough to make him want to stay.

i feel sorry for season 8 athena, clueless to the fact that her husband has been dying for hours, would not have gotten a chance to say goodbye to her husband had his firefighter not called her to walk down that tunnel. i feel sorry that athena begged him to stay with her i feel sorry that athena had to be blindsided then watch him die in agony.

bobby’s mental health struggles over the course of the series are understood and are at zero fault of his. and we know that athena never held that against him. she herself has referred to him as perfect.

it doesn’t make sense that them both being first responders that either would leave the decision of their final resting places up to their significant other. i feel sorry that athena had to carry that burden of looking/thinking of something in the first place.

after 8 seasons of this, we know the seasons (er, episodes) are written in a vacuum. but i do wish if we were doing the whole “full-circle moment” we should’ve never been witness to bobby and athena as not only a couple but THE flagship couple of the series.

season 1 deeply anguished suicidal bobby nash who found a new home at the 118, then curated an A1 firehouse, then eventually went out a valiant hero being shipped back to minnesota to be buried with his family would be beautiful. he could’ve even had a new wife in L.A. who was more of a supporting character and was just an extension of the bobby character. it’s not the best writing to make a woman’s character just about a man but in this scenario it would’ve been palatable.

but that’s not what this series has been. we’ve seen athena pick herself up and put herself back together after divorcing michael. we then learn the backstory of her tragically losing her fiancé in her early-mid 20’s. we see her take leap after leap after leap of faith with bobby, and joyfully so. athena is played by NUMBER ONE on the call sheet. she’s not just a supporting character or an extension of bobby. she’s her own character. her sending him back home doesn’t elicit any positive feelings for me. it makes it feel like athena (and her kids) were just a mere pit stop, a rehabilitation, something to bid his time, until he could get back home to his “real” family. not full-circle at all. something geometric, but i’m not sure what. i don’t know what the proper solution would be as for bobby’s final resting place, and i do wish we never had to find out canonically. but seeing that plane and the headstones did not fill me with peace or closure or any warm and cozy feelings.

if anyone is upset by….*gestures around* all of it that’s totally valid. and if it just specifically the handling of the death and the (lack of) funeral it’s also completely valid and not hysterical at all.

[rottendollface]

Smoke Relationship Headcanons

Character: Smoke | Tomas Vrbada.

Warnings: NSFW, fem!reader, dom!Tomas, toxic relationship, jealousy; mental and physical abuse; unprotected sex, thoughts of baby trapping, oral sex; the action takes place before Bi-Han's betrayal, 18+.

• Tomas, who is searching for a civilian woman on purpose. He knows how to make a good impression, and he is well aware of his soft, lovely appearance. Once he has his eyes on you, he will act his best only to lure you into his trap.

• Tomas knows whom to target. He doesn't want a strong woman. He wants a shy, soft girl, a damsel in distress, so he can be her hero; but don't be fooled by such a valiant motive: the more he saves you, the more you owe him, and he won't hesitate to charge you for everything he has ever done to you.

• He lies about his background shamelessly. For you, he is a good guy, Tomas, who works as a policeman in a neighborhood district department. What about his family? His mother and sister tragically perished, and he was adopted by family friends. Tomas is a nice guy, and so are his brothers. He never tells you the names, dates, and places – and you can't even notice it because Tomas just doesn't shut up. He tells you so many things that you constantly lose the plot. However, from you, he expects to hear the whole story with all the following facts.

• Tomas is very caring with you. He assures you that you can trust him all your worries and your mind. His words are sweet, and his hands are gentle when he touches you. Tomas helps you with everything – you don't even have to ask. He is perfect, but he does it only to learn your weaknesses. Got too emotional and told him about your mental struggles? Tomas will make a note on how to put you into stress. Shared your fears with him? He is already planning on how to use it against you to make you vulnerable.

• He always belittles himself in front of you to hear you praising him. You put your whole pure soul into the kindest words he has ever heard in his life. Sometimes, he thinks that even his mother loved him less than you do. You are a marvelous persona, and he does everything in his might to become like you. Staying in your presence feels like basking in the Sun, and Tomas wants to become a better person for you. Did you really believe it? Well, it's better for him. Tomas does it on purpose – he gives you a false feeling of being a savior, an angel in a relationship to make your bond feel special.

• Does Tomas love you? Of course, he does, but the way he shows it is a little... different. He was raised by people who massacred his family. Since childhood, he had to kill to survive. He is a disgusting, sick creature, a predator who lives by animal impulses. Tomas doesn't know love in its normal way. He is afraid to lose you due to this reason, so he is hunting you in a different way: he wants to bind you to himself, make you addicted to him. Tomas will succeed, he believes.

• Tomas is jealous of you. He hates every man for looking at you, he hates you for being so kind with everyone around you, and he hates himself for allowing you to walk everywhere you want. It would be better for him if you were isolated from society. Tomas starts to scare you with police statistics on assaults on young women; he asks you to be extra careful when you leave your home, recommends you to give him access to your location, controls your outfits and makeup. You can shine with your beauty only when he is around, and while he isn't with you, you are allowed to wear something neutral so as not to draw attention to yourself. If you want to party with your friends, he has to know all their phone numbers and be in constant contact with you: if you aren't answering his messages for more than an hour, he will call you until you pick up. Tomas is aware that it scares you to see so many missed calls, and he does it to force a guilt on you. You have to excuse yourself and leave for half an hour in the best case to call him back, mentally prepared to hear his annoyed voice.

"...was found in an alleyway with her throat slashed."

"...her eyes were gouged."

"...drugged her drink and then raped her unconscious body."

Begging him to stop won't give you any results. Tomas wants you to remember once and for all: without him, you can easily become a heroine of tragic news reports. He will continue to intimidate you until you become too scared to exist in society.

• In relationship fights, he uses dirty tricks. Tomas gives you silent treatment to provide you an opportunity to think about your actions and goes on missions, keeping his phone turned off. It drives you crazy – every time you are afraid that he will be injured, and you will be the last to know about it. You would prefer him to scream at you than look you over and keep silent.

• Sometimes, when you two are not fighting, but starting to argue, he grabs your hands or claws his fingers in your shoulder dangerously close to your neck. Tomas is a strong man with an impressive physique – and some of his touches leave bruises on your skin. You ask him to be more careful with you, yet it goes unheard by him. His way to say sorry in this situation is to kiss each bruise after it gets its beautiful cornflower-blue color with purple streaks. The tenderness in his lips when he is doing that makes you think that Tomas likes to hurt you.

• Still, Tomas is a good husband material! He provides you, always makes sure your fridge is full of the best food. With Tomas, you don't have to worry about money. He will easily pay for your education and your cravings.

Tomas is traditional and believes that you should be a stay-at-home mother for your future children. To be honest, in Lin Kuei, you will have nothing else to do but to watch after kids. Sometimes, he dreams of leaving the clan and living with you like his parents did. One day, when it will be safe for him and you will have nowhere to run, he is going to tell you the whole truth about himself.

• Talking about children, Tomas loves the idea to be a family man. His foster parents made sure to raise all of the sons this way. It is also a good way to chain you to him. Constantly pregnant, you will have no other way but to stay with him.

• Tomas just feels the urge to breed you. Like an animal in rut, he won't cum anywhere, but inside you. Want it or not, he will force his seed in your womb. Tomas is the type to sabotage your birth control if you take any and impale condoms. He will find the words to assure you to have unprotected sex – he knows you so well he can convince you in everything.

• Tomas lives to grope you. He adores the way his big palms squeeze your buttcheecks, this delicious fat taking the form of his hands. He will grab you by your thighs when you sit next to him, making his way in between your legs by pressing on your skin roughly, impelling you to spread them.

• Thigh-sex from behind is a must for him: just one thought of his dick nestling in between your sweet inner thigs, right under your dripping pussy, gives him a boner. Your slick makes it easy to move, and Tomas shamelessly uses it for his pleasure. For you, it is nothing more, but a sweet torture, as you feel his throbbing length rubbing under your awaiting hole. You beg him and whine for him, but Tomas just grabs you by your hands, making you arch your back, and goes faster, bringing his climax closer.

• He won't go further without oral. Expect him to eat you out until you go stupid. Tomas is an expert in what he is doing: toying with your clit by sucking, munching and licking on it, he is then sliding his tongue down to your hole. Stuffing you with his saliva and tongue, he changes it on his thick fingers when it's time to go back to your trembling clitoris. He will slide up and down, his tongue flat to cover all the parts of your pussy.

Tomas expects you to give him head back after he finishes with you. The clouded gaze with heavy eyelids you give him when your plump pink lips close on the tip of his dick makes it more erotic. He is training you to take all of him in your mouth in one go, yet it brings Tomas more pleasure when you're starting at the tip and slowly making it down to the base, letting his length into your hot tight throat. You are sucking him, trailing every vein with your tongue. Saliva is streaming down from the corners of your mouth to your chin, making bubbles – Tomas is watching you with attentive eyes, memorizing every detail. Tomas is the type to grab you by your hair and start fucking your mouth roughly, enjoying you choking on his cock.

• No matter the position, Tomas is always in control of you. His hands never leave your body, helping you to adapt to his pace instead. Yet Tomas' favorites are doggy and missionary. For him, deeper penetration means better chances to make you pregnant. Taking you from behind allows him to go rougher on your poor cunt, that certainly will be swollen by the end of the intercourse. Pulling you on his cock, Tomas shivers at the feeling of your wet walls spasming around his length. His head is spinning when he sees his seed leaking out your red and messy pussy. Tomas pushes it back with his fingers, watching you squirm under him, as he is stuffing your already sensitive insides. For sure, he will go on you for another round, fucking his cum at the deepest parts of your womb.

• Every time you fall asleep by his side, Tomas is thinking about introducing you to his reality. It will be a long, painful process of your complete disappearance from previous life. Saying goodbye to old friends and family is never an easy task, but you will do it for Tomas – he will gladly help you with it.

[radar-of-the-stars]

Who would the characters of Hazbin Hotel main in Smash?

Charlie sees herself as a dependable hero, and wants a character that matches that. She mains Toon Link, because he's all that, but also adorable.

Vaggie is the world's most swooning lesbian, just look at the way she smiles at charlie. She would look the same way at Samus, and so she mains ZSS.

Angel Dust just wants to turn his brain off and hit hard, but he doesn't want to be seen as basic by picking a popular character. So he landed on Ike.

Alastor never wants anyone to know his next move, so when playing friendlies or if he's in a streamed tournament, he goes random. When he gets serious, however, he pulls out the craziest Pac Man combos you've ever seen.

Husk loves the gamble, so of course he plays Game & Watch and spams Judge, always fishing for that elusive 9.

Niffty plays as a Mii Swordfighter that she made to look like herself, and giggles every time she gets a kill, but never taunts.

Sir Pensions likes to set traps and do off-the-dome combos, so he plays Snake, but switches to Bowser Jr. when playing against his Egg Bois.

Lucifer wants to connect with Charlie, so he picks Zelda whenever playing against her. On his on he goes with Kazuya for the cool devil look.

Carmilla pretends she doesn't care about Smash, but her daughters like it so she spends an hour a day labbing Byleth strings, although she's still not very good

Zestial mains Hero, because the valiant swordsman is the only media trope he's familiar with.

Vox is a total crowd pleaser, and no one pleases the crowds quite like Captain Falcon.

Velvette also pretends she doesn't care, but she got really into animal crossing before she died, and mains Isabelle because of it.

Valentino loves Piranha Plant's Side B, and will spam it at every opertunity.

Sera plays Ridley. She just thinks he feels fight.

Emily has mained every single character on the roster at some point, but now she's trying to settle between Daisy and Pit, because they look the coolest to her.

Adam plays Bayonetta and spams smash attacks because he likes seeing her clothes disappear.

Lute also plays Bayonetta, but only because Adam does.

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

BENE. 258  I do love nothing in the world so well as you—is not that strange?

BEAT. 259   As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I 260   lov’d nothing so well as you, but believe me not; and yet I lie not: I 261    confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.

BENE. 262  By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.

BEAT. 263  Do not swear and eat it.

BENE. 264  I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat it that says I love not you.

BEAT. 265  Will you not eat your word?

BENE. 266  With no sauce that can be devis’d to it. I protest I love thee.

BEAT. 267  Why then God forgive me!

BENE. 268  What offense, sweet Beatrice?

BEAT. 269  You have stay’d me in a happy hour, I was about to protest I lov’d you.

BENE. 270  And do it with all thy heart.

BEAT. 271  I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.

BENE. 272  Come, bid me do any thing for thee.

BEAT. 273  Kill Claudio.

BENE. 274  Ha, not for the wide world.

BEAT. 275  You kill me to deny it. Farewell.

BENE. 276  Tarry, sweet Beatrice.

BEAT. 277  I am gone, though I am here; there is no love in you. Nay, I pray you let me go.

BENE. 278  Beatrice—

BEAT. 279  In faith, I will go.

BENE. 280  We’ll be friends first.

BEAT. 281  You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.

BENE. 282  Is Claudio thine enemy?

BEAT. 283  Is ’a not approv’d in the height a villain, that hath slander’d, scorn’d, 284  dishonor’d my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What, bear her in 285  hand until they come to take hands, and then with public accusation, 286  uncover’d slander, unmitigated rancor—O God, that I were a man! I 287  would eat his heart in the market-place.

BENE. 288  Hear me, Beatrice—

BEAT. 289  Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying!

BENE. 290  Nay, but, Beatrice—

BEAT. 291  Sweet Hero, she is wrong’d, she is sland’red, she is undone.

BENE. 292  Beat—

BEAT. 293  Princes and counties! Surely a princely testimony, a goodly count, 294  Count Comfect, a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a man for his sake! 295  Or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is 296  melted into cur’sies, valor into compliment, and men are only turn’d 297  into tongue, and trim ones too. He is now as valiant as Hercules that 298  only tells a lie, and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore 299  I will die a woman with grieving.

BENE. 300  Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee.

BEAT. 301  Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.

BENE. 302  Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wrong’d Hero?

BEAT. 303  Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.

BENE. 304  Enough, I am engag’d, I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and 305  so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. 306  As you hear of me, so think of me. Go comfort your cousin. I must say 307  she is dead; and so farewell.

Exeunt.

“I do love nothing in the world so well as you—is not that strange?”

[hexhomos]

im curious to know your thoughts on viktor's biography saying jayce was nothing more than an inconvenience. how do you handle him saying they were never friends? was this because of piltoverians superiority or? (correct me if im wrong but i cant remember if you touched on that)

A friend of mine once said a catastrophic breakup has the unforeseen consequence of tainting everything that came before it in the harsh, abrasive light of the fresh argument, and after that initial damage is done it’s hard to pick out how the memories *really* were. No matter how positive. You begin to doubt, re-read and re-write what happened, so the ultimate split "makes sense."

This may not even be a conscious process half of the time! But jokes about crazy-ex-girlfriends exist for a reason, and I believe that reason might be a surplus of unwarranted crazy-ex-girlfriend stories that are told after the dissolution of every messy relationship. You need a clear Right and a clear Wrong. Rationalizing your behavior as “only logical, in the face of irrationality,” is a defense mechanism. It’s not a pretty one, but it boils down to this: avoidance of guilt, rejection of any criticism you may consider too true, the reshaping of your narrative so *you* are the one in control, the winner, the guy who’s closing the debate with the perfect comeback, one thought up in the shower 12 hours after the fact.

Viktor lies a lot. By omission, exaggeration, negligence and a sense of dwindling pride. Jayce is simultaneously unstoppably unjust and a worm-man that could be crushed beneath his heel; an insufferable viktor never chose for himself! Who is, at the same time, somehow, his work partner of years, actively by his side right up until his last project - or until he's had enough. And the dissonance is the point. This is an image that has been warped so much in editing you can see the smudgy click and drag marks in the surroundings. 

I do think Jayce and Viktor were friends, and this is an assertion I make without doubt. Viktor calls jayce his old friend when the plea benefits him, this is corroborated by how positively Jayce's bio speaks about Viktor, even while criticizing his methods.

Jayce is indifferent to nearly everyone he meets, he says so himself, in his opening paragraphs; if he really was so Out There To Get Viktor And Ruin His Life &/Or Reputation- what fucking reason does he have to defend Viktor's honor after he's proved himself to be unstable and aggressive? If their relationship was nonexistent, sour, or predicated exclusively in rivalry or animosity, why does Viktor ask for Jayce to join him in his grand plan, after years of alleged cold war? What reason is there for Jayce to apologize and still extend him an out after Viktor sinks his head in with a giant crystal? What reason is there for him to even disclose doing that? (what reason is there for Jayce to call Viktor petnames after multiple direct attempts on his life???? LOL)

To put it mildly. If we are to take Viktor’s POV by his word (imagine he is being honest,) and see this as a straightforward detached revenge story about prejudice or jayce’s unreasonable hero complex or piltover carelessly wanting to trump over zaun or whatever - why doesn’t Jayce’s side of the story simply call him a cunt and move on? He has all the setup to prop himself as the true hero, but he doesn’t. Like Bon points out here, Jayce’s bio doesn’t even bring up that Viktor is a Zaunite. Not Once. There is no stereotypical city grudge casting him in a bad light. The information is implicit: they talk about Zaun, extensively, but Viktor’s ideas and standing and existence are what you know him by, not some undercity-dwelling boogeyman. If anything, Jayce self-deprecates far more frequently than Viktor does, and makes a sustained effort to poke holes on the audience’s perception of him being a ‘valiant hearted hero’ of any kind. He dont give a fuck. He doesn't want this title. He did not pick it. He is not choosing to represent this city. He has other, better, palpable things to care about. Namely his work, and generally ‘preventing people from being made into fucking zombies’. Jayce doesn’t want you to think that he is right(eous), but that what is happening is wrong.

If I take a step back from text interpretation here and tell you what I personally gather from it, Opinion Wise, it's this: Viktor is concerned with presenting you with a tragic fable because he has an ideology to sell. The revisions and concessions he makes along the way are for the ultimate purpose of crafting a legend. And sometimes that requires humility. He needs the rationalization to make sense of every single bad thing that has ever happened in his life; and in his way there he also tends to mix up one sore spot with the other, like they're all this elaborate multi-step prank destiny sprung on him, like every single other person in his life has been Lowkey Conspiring Against Him, so you can eventually agree to this:

Humans suck, right? We agree humans suck, right, guys? I mean wouldn't we love it if humans didn't suck? Thats Why I Came Up With A Solution!! THE NEURALINK. - Viktor. (note: whenever there's a mention of the student body, swap it with 'Jayce' to see how the motivation builds up. Viktor makes an effort to omit him whenever possible anyway)

He's kind of at the end of his rope. This is his last ditch effort to build himself back up.

Generally speaking, the opposite goes for Jayce. He frontloads his statement with mentions of how he is a huge dipshit, unabashedly so, to get really at the meat of things: He thinks Viktor's preaching is fucking bogus, but the point is that guy used to be his friend. That guy used to be someone he knew! That guy was brilliant at what he did, even, but something went really terribly wrong down the line and it's frankly fucked up that it happened. But nobody really cares nor can they fully understand, because as Jayce previously stated, maybe everyone else is kind of fucking stupid, so he has to fix things on his own. (Jayce doesn't have any 'I stand for justice and righteousness and the american way,' comeback prepared to rebuke Viktor's speeches. That sentence could make him barf. He just has very strong feelings about where the line is drawn, and he’s not going to wait for the worst case scenario before doing something.)

I do think that more than anything else, It’s important (and telling) that both of their bios admit to them being deeply hurt by their falling-out. Jayce calls it ‘growing more insular’, Viktor calls it ‘traumatic’, there are attempts to patch things back up on either side (even if a bit tilted, even if the propositions don’t work) Viktor regrets trusting anyone at all, so he covers it up with detachment. Jayce regrets not having enough faith to communicate anything, when he could have, so he tries his best to own up to every present or imagined failure in his way towards improvement.

Of course Viktor would describe Jayce as inconvenient. Viktor is one of the many perceived past failures Jayce is desperately trying to do damage control for. And if he *can’t* change Viktor’s mind, well. At least Jayce can stand in his way and be really, really annoying.

[mixed-kester]

my three DPSes with the one support they all have in common

team: Kaeya, Keqing, Wanderer, Xingqiu tags: @zhongrin @meimeimeirin @ansy-tea

a/n: why the hell does tumblr not have two blue colors?

holy shit this team is...something. on battle, kaeya makes a good burst support along with xingqiu. keqing and wanderer fight for the onfield time, but they're both good at exploration.

off field, however...

kaeya ⇄ xingqiu = frozen

my first ever built DPS and support, oh where do i begin?

both friendship 10 as well, so they have a good relationship with me as their uh...handler, yes, let's use that word.

very good friends, brothers even. 

kaeya looking out for xingqiu when he goes on trips for rare books and xingqiu always being reliable in terms of that sweet sweet commerce guild discount in wine.

kaeya sees xingqiu as his little "brother of sorts", and is generally lighthearted at his pranks. 

he even pranks back. its all in good faith

"And so, our valiant hero now faces his final dilemma; will he save the family he was bound to by blood, or follow his friends who he deems his saviors?" Xingqiu writes triumphantly, his hands trembling from the hours he spent writing on paper. He rubs his red eyes, staining his face (and the mattress) with ink, and reclines back on his makeshift pillow-chair.

"Oh, still awake, i see? Now, our dear Esther wouldn't like that." Xingqiu looks behind to see Kaeya standing at his door, very tall, and sounding very deprived of sleep.

"You're one to talk, sir Kaeya." he would say back... but, Kaeya looks like he's not in the mood for banter.

At a loss on what to do, Xingqiu points to the chair on his bedside. "Bad dream?"

Kaeya doesn’t respond, but shuffles over and sits beside him.

"What do you want me to do?" "Hmm... how about you tell me all about the book you're writing?"

"Okay, but only a sneak peak! This is supposed to be secret.”

I'm worried about you.

keqing ⇄ xingqiu = electrocharged

respectful.

mainly because Xingqiu is like oH MY GOD THE YUHENG???? OH SHIT I GOTTA ACT LIKE A PROPER BOY (he isnt)

keqing is like that one family member who you don't know much about but somehow knows a ton about you and buys a shit ton of gifts to compensate for lost time.

except the thing Keqing isn't compensating for is lost time.

it's her appreciation.

This is the sixth rare book he has gotten this week.

The Man Who Stole the Lone Star is sitting in his desk.

The third volume of Vera's Melancholy, and supposedly the same series which perished amongst the flames of that one big library burning, is in his table.

Xingqiu dares not to touch the book. Besides the obvious, the book's cover is well cared for, the pages in mint condition.

Someone paid a fortune to send this to me, he thinks. But who? Everybody's best sense when acquiring a rare book is to sell it for the people who want it, isn't it?

"Has anybody seen Keqing?" Xingqiu hears Esther asking downstairs. Keqing is missing?

"She went out. Something about books." The blunt voice of the Wanderer answered his question.

"Huh. Oh well, you're up, Wanderer. I need someone to get 24 more Cor Lapis." Esther's voice turns icy.

"Are you sure it has to be me?" Wanderer asked icily.

Silence. Xingqiu coughs loudly.

"...fine, let's get this over with. That old hag better be with me." He grumbles.

Lady Keqing...hmm. Nah, she can't have. Xingqiu shrugs and lounges on his couch, finally reading the new book. Ah, that old book smell.

She might not even know me outside of battle.

wanderer ⇄ xingqiu = swirl: waves

where do i begin with this.

ever since the Wishing incident, I didn't pair him up with wanderer in fear of some kind of PTSD triggering him.

surprisingly, though, i found them together once outside the dinner table together. xingqiu's...cutting his hair.

of course, both of them denied it ever happened.

"E-Esther! Why are you still up?" Xingqiu snaps up, hiding the scissors behind his back.

"Excellent question."

Esther found the Wanderer and Xingqiu in a spare room. They found the Wanderer wrapped up in one of Xiangling's aprons, sitting and his hat off. Xingqiu is concentrating on his hair, trying to cut it as straight as he can. Without a mirror.

Well, was concentrating.

They walked forward, seemingly not seeing a very red Wanderer, and yanked Xingqiu's arm, showing an everyday scissor with indigo strands stuck in it.

Esther looked at it in dumbfounded silence.

"...stay here."

They left just as quick.

Xingqiu dared not look at Wanderer's very, very steely gaze at him, suddenly becoming very interested at his modest, worn out shoes.

Are they angry at me? Am i kicked out? WIll my artifacts be given away and tossed to the-

He feels the scissor being taken from him and....replaced with another scissor? Xingqiu looked up and saw Esther looking sheepish.

"You should have told me. Ah, no, scratch that. This guy over here will threaten you not to." They glare at Wanderer. He scoffs.

"It's good that i found you both actually, because you'll be transferred to him. Not permanent." They added hastily after Xingqiu looked shocked.

"Also, Wanderer. Treat him well. He's your senior. That good?" They looked down and smirked in Wanderer's face. Xingqiu can't see it from his angle, but he imagined that he looks very very angry.

"Fine."

"Alright, go to bed, both of you. The night is young, and the rain howls outside. Good night." Esther straightens up, nods at Xingqiu, and then leaves the room with a soft slam on the door.

An awkward silence fills the air. Xingqiu still stares at the door, at a loss for words.

...

"What are you waiting for?" Xingqiu snaps out and sees the Wanderer glaring at him.

Xingqiu straightens up and nods.

I'll try my best.

keqing ⇄ kaeya = superconduct

good friends.

initially, i was worried that they won't hit it off, but they do, fortunately.

i guess working with the public has its own problems, and having someone to relate to outside of work must be relieving.

keqing is frustrated about kaeya's "laziness", and kaeya feels like keqing is too fast and endlessly toils with her work

he got her to drink one sip of wine to relax, and it somehow devolved into drinking a whole bottle.

"They..they benched me!" Slamming her fist on the table, Keqing sniffles and downs another gulp of wine.

“They didn’t,“ Kaeya assured her. For the fifth time.

This time was supposed to be for relaxation. 

“They told me themselves. You just have, and i quote ‘a very unique fighting style’.“ He now moves his hand to the vice-grip of Keqing’s hand on the wine bottle.

“Now, let go of the bottle.“ He tries to pry her hand off, but she swats it away. 

“...Nooooooooooo.“ Keqing’s eyes are unfocused as she tries to glare at him, but she sways, the chair creaking as she laughs bitterly. 

“You’re not acting like the Yuheng right now.“

“I don’t care.“

The glints of the shards of wine glasses on the table makes Kaeya’s eye flinch. 

I’ll clean that up later. Right now...

Kaeya catches her from falling. Keqing scoffs, yanks her arm away from his hand and drags her chair closer to him, each second punctuated with a sharp crunch.

“You don’t...understand.” She points at him accusingly. “You’re favored. I...”

Her frame shivers as Keqing tries to wipe the tears away from her face. He looks at her.

“I’m unwanted. Do...you don’t know how it feels.” She now curls up on the table, heaving and sobbing. 

He reaches for another wine bottle.

I do. 

kaeya ⇄ wanderer = swirl: blizzard

Seemingly neutral.

Everybody who has been near 20m from them knows this not to be true. 

Kaeya’s banter with Wanderer has always been loaded with snarky double meanings and with more sass than ever before.

Wanderer’s, however, has been more brutal and more contemptuous than the previously mentioned team members. 

It’s like they despise each other or something...

"Ah, but you see, our dear Esther needs me to read these books in order to improve my skills properly." Kaeya drawls out, not-so-subtly showing off his newly made Amenoma Kageuchi in front of a seething Wanderer.

You see, Esther made the very wise decision, Kaeya thinks, to adorn him with a crown for reaching the pinnacle of his Elemental Skill. He will be the first one to be crowned.

Ever.

"That's fine. But don't you think they should crown someone as eminent as me? I mean," Wanderer scoffs, clearly not fine with it. "I have utility off the battle. I can fly, but you can only run."

"And what is that supposed to mean? Don't tell me that, oh, no, the ever grumpy Wanderer is...concerned about his role? I thought you learned your lesson already." Kaeya stoops down and raises Wanderer's hat.

He swats it away.

"Don't touch it. And no, I am not concerned. They clearly favor me before you, after all." He now glares at him straight in the eye, with absolute hatred hidden in lovely shades of purple.

"After all, what use does a Khaenri'ahn have on a team?"

Kaeya's eye widens. Wanderer laughs.

"You think you can hide it from me? The son of an Archon? I know who you are." Wanderer's voice now lowers to a deadly whisper.

The cavalry captain is silent.

"At a loss for words? No matter. This conversation served no purpose." Wanderer now straightens up and stares at his star-shaped eye.

If you ever betray them, I will drag you down to the abyss myself and enjoy tearing apart your limbs one by one.

keqing ⇄ wanderer = swirl: downburst

HERE IT IS, MY SHIP

Except no, at this period in time, this isn't a ship yet.

Wanderer has heard of Keqing's skepticism from the moment he stepped foot outside his room after... yeah, you'll see.

Esther warned him that some of her views are unorthodox for the people here, but he's more intrigued at the fact that a mortal is skeptical of the gods.

He has met many skeptics throughout his wanderings, but most of them border around "this god doesnt grant my wishes so i hate them."

Keqing is more concerned about other matters, though.

"Three condensed resin for Desert Pavilion, two resin runs for ley lines..." The Wanderer heard Keqing groan upstairs.

The house is silent, with the occasional snore of Esther as they sleep under the stairs, separated by only a silk screen.

Why they don't have their own room even though they're the owner, he never bothered to ask. They seem insistent on getting him his very own room, even though he insisted he's just passing by.

They think it's nonsense, even though i don't need rest.

He lounges on the couch, placing his hat on the floor. With nothing better to do, he goes upstairs to get a random book from the library.

"Wanderer. Why are you still awake?"

He looks behind to see the Yuheng, still as poised and tense as ever.

"I don't sleep. I could ask you the same question." He raised an eyebrow at her. She looked confused at first, but then remembered that he isn't human.

A reminder that I don't belong.

"Esther has relegated me the plans for your artifacts. Kaeya and Beidou will lead the team." She replies, hands behind her back and her voice as sharp as ever.

"Whatever. As long as they're out of my hair." Wanderer walked past her, no longer interested in reading a book.

He stops, seemingly thinking of something.

"How about we continue this downstairs?" He looks back on her.

She blinks. Then she nods.

"Might as well. I need to ask you a few questions."

Intriguing.

[maybe-meadowlark]

Ninjago Role Swap AU!

This started as an AI!Jay AU that popped into my head while I was trying to go to sleep that quickly spiraled into a swap AU that made me me lay awake for an hour thinking as much through as I could.

My swaps are:

Morro/Lloyd

Skylor/Kai (This one is so unoriginal but Kai is *super* hard to swap)

Benthomaar/Nya (Less of a swap on Nya's end)

Unagami/Jay

Pixal/Zane

Vania/Cole

And, finally Wu/Garmadon

A lil' description of what's up with each character in my ninja lineup, I'll make a separate post for the others.

Morro is the sassy little 13-and-a-half-year-old (he won't let you forget the half, it's very important) adoptive son of Wu. The ninja were initially suspicious of him, given his father, but quickly grew to love him. When he found out he was the green ninja, destined to defeat his dad, he was far from excited but found there were other aspects of being the green ninja he quite enjoyed.

Skylor has spent a large part of her teenage years helping around her dad's noodle shop. She quite enjoys cooking, learning the family recipes, and making the best food she can. When Garmadon offered to train her in her late mother's fire she was hesitant, as much as she wanted to learn her element she wanted to stay and help at the shop. But with some words of encouragement from her dad (Chen is a good dad here and I love it) she decides to go.

Bentho's adoptive family doesn't really like surface dwellers that much, some more fiercely than others, but Bentho has always been fascinated by the surface and longs to go there one day. When he find's out Kalamaar's plan to destroy the surface he knows he has to do something. After a failed attempt to stop him Bentho is visited by a strange surface dweller who says she can give him the power to protect, which he quickly accepts. He doesn't realize what that means until he meets the ninja.

Unagami was adopted Milton Dyer at a young age, the man had always wanted a son but wasn't very interested in romance, so he decided to adopt instead. When Garmadon offered him a role as a ninja he consulted his dad first and eventually decided to join. He was pretty nervous at first as he had never been away from home for so long but thanks to the other ninja's kindness he was able to adjust and the monastery became a second home to him.

Pixal was originally created but Cyrus Borg as an assistant when he started inventing new things to use for his dream of starting a company. After a while he realized that, while amazing, many of his advancements could easily be quite destructive if they got into the wrong hands. So, he got an average, unassuming apartment in Ninjago City and live a normal life with Pixal as his daughter. He did his best to teach Pixal the ways of humans and to value and protect life as best she can. When Garmadon invited her to join his ninja team Pixal was eager for the opportunity to protect both her dad and the rest of the world and easily accepted.

Vania always loved reading any adventure book she could get her hands on, filling her head with dreams of being the valiant hero, dreams that are finally coming true. Vania was as surprised as anyone to find that she was the master of earth but was equally excited to learn how to wield it. The other ninja sometimes find her excitement annoying but eventually find just how endearing it can be.

...So those wound up being much longer than I intended but there is so much information stored up in my noggin, please ask me questions I want to share more.

[the-last-kenobi]

If you’re still taking requests (feel no pressure to do this) 14 with Obi-wan and a knight Anakin because that sounds very much like him

A fluff prompt!! I’m so excited, thank you! 🤍

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

_

Obi-Wan Kenobi had not slept in three nights, and his Lineage was not happy about it.

Ahsoka and Anakin watched with narrowed eyes from a balcony as the Jedi Master mingled with the crowd, smiling softly at anyone who engaged his attention, keeping close to the side of Chancellor Palpatine and Vice Chair Mas Amedda.

For a man who was running on very little sleep and hardly any sustenance, Obi-Wan was managing to maintain the image of the perfect Jedi — civil, humble, charming, wise. Power concealed just below the surface.

Every so often, Palpatine would draw the Jedi deeper into some conversation or other, or pat him on the shoulder in a strangely paternal fashion.

“Why does he keep doing that?” Ahsoka hissed to her Master. “Master Kenobi hates strangers touching him!”

“The Chancellor isn’t a stranger,” Anakin said defensively. But he watched again as Palpatine settled a hand on his former Master’s arm and saw the slight tension creasing Obi-Wan’s forehead, and had to concede that Obi-Wan was feeling uncomfortable. “But yeah. I don’t think the Chancellor knows, he wouldn’t do it if he did. He’s probably just too used to working with me instead. We’re more like friends.”

Ahsoka raised her eyebrows. “And would he have let you go home by now? We were supposed to be able to leave almost two hours ago.”

Anakin sighed. He leaned on the railing, absentmindedly picking at a carved design in the metal with his mech hand, creating a small clicking noise. He scanned the room again, searching for unlikely threats, and then returned his gaze to his Master and his friend, still penned in the center of a colorful crowd all waiting for attention. To see and be seen. Vultures.

Obi-Wan had more patience for this sort of thing, it was true, but it was apparent to those who knew him well — to Anakin — that he was run ragged. That every new face turning in his direction, awed and pettily delighted by meeting both the Supreme Chancellor and a High Jedi General, was another weight on his shoulders.

Anakin glanced over at his Padawan. Ahsoka’s eyes lit up as she saw the look in his eyes.

“How do you wanna do this?” she asked, tapping her fingers excitedly on the banister. “I know you like explosions, but if you set something off, Master Obi-Wan will definitely have to flee with the Chancellor to safety and then he’ll be gone for ages.”

“You’re right, Snips,” Anakin said, and a smirk pulled at his lips. He ruffled his hair proudly, ignoring Ahsoka’s eye roll, and said, “So I’ll take a leaf from Obi-Wan’s book. I’ll just go right down there and use my words.”

Anakin beamed.

Ahsoka looked as if she suddenly preferred an explosion.

-

“Yes, hi, hello, excuse me, coming through, yep, pardon me, just walking here,” Anakin threw scattered, inane apologies in every direction as he plowed a path right through the entire gala.

Ahsoka trailed in his wake, smiling awkwardly at the people who scattered with startled looks and scowling ferociously at those who dared look cross.

Obi-Wan spotted them first. He was deep in conversation with a representative from the Core, but his blue eyes flickered to them briefly and his smile became slightly taut; he raised one of his hands in what might have passed for a wave but was, to his Padawans, a clear signal to turn around.

Anakin disregarded this subtle warning immediately.

He strolled directly up to Obi-Wan, bowed slightly, and put a hand on the Master’s shoulder, smiling blindingly at the representative. “Good evening. I’m afraid it’s time for Master Kenobi to depart. The Jedi thank you for your time.”

The representative raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

Palpatine, on the other hand, suddenly popped up right beside them, a wide smile on his grandfatherly face. “Anakin, Knight Skywalker, how good to see you! I thought you’d gone home hours ago, why, surely you need your rest after that last campaign.”

Anakin kept a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Ahsoka shifted to stand behind them, smiling a little too widely, the points of her teeth glinting, at anyone who looked at them askance.

“We had quite the victory,” Anakin agreed. He preened slightly. But — “And you’re right, Chancellor, we do need our rest. General Kenobi has served very well, and we’re all eager to rest and prepare for our next deployment.”

Palpatine’s smile widened still further. “Ah, yes. General Kenobi is an incredible public servant, he’s such a delight to have at events such as these.”

This time it was Anakin who tensed slightly. Ahsoka sidled up surreptitiously and linked her arm with Master Obi-Wan’s, flanking him between them, drawn up as tall as she could make herself.

Anakin looked intently at Palpatine, trying to communicate to his friend that now was not the time for politics. He’d thought this would be easy, but the Chancellor seemed determined to keep Kenobi with him all evening. The crowd had begun to disperse, realizing they weren’t going to be receiving any attention for awhile, but they milled about nearby, clearly listening in.

“I—” Obi-Wan began, but Anakin decided to risk his Master’s wrath and just cut him right off.

“And he and I are always happy to be invited by such gracious hosts!” he blurted out quickly. “But sadly, we will have to wait for another invitation before we get the chance to enjoy one another’s company. We really do have to be going.”

Palpatine studied him for a moment.

Go on, Anakin urged him silently. Please. Come on. You know we want to leave.

The silence dragged.

“Master Kenobi,” Palpatine said warmly, turning to Obi-Wan, and Anakin felt a wave of relief. “What do you say? Shall we… let you out of your duties for the sake of your valiant friends?”

Oh, what the fuck?

It had the ring of a joke but was worded like a trap. And Anakin could see, in slow-motion, the flicker of resignation and bitterness deep in Obi-Wan’s blue eyes, just behind the friendly smile, and knew what was about to happen if he didn’t do something about it.

Anakin let out a loud laugh and clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder again. “Sorry, everyone. We’re on a time crunch, we have to get back in time for dessert.”

Ahsoka laughed, too, and clung a little tighter to Obi-Wan’s arm.

Obi-Wan looked somewhere between confused and horror struck.

Palpatine’s smile froze.

Anakin chuckled and waved at the surrounding crowd, shrugging in a you-know-how-it-is sort of way. “Hey, he promised us milkshakes. General I may be, but I still demand my old Master fulfill his promises of unhealthy desserts.”

“Hey, I think out of everyone, I deserve milkshakes the most!” Ahsoka interjected, her tone teasing.

A few of the politicians shot her amused smiles. Ordinarily she would have bristled, but in this instance she just shot them knowing, conspiratorial looks, like a child deliberately making mischief. There was a ripple of laughter.

“I don’t know about that,” Anakin said. “I think I definitely took out the most droids.”

“Riiiight,” said Ashoka. “After I took out the battlement. By myself.”

They ribbed back and forth. The gala was eating it up, their faces amused and indulgent, intrigued by the display of youthful frivolity and friendship the Jedi were giving them. Obi-Wan was still pinned between them, rooted helplessly to the spot.

Anakin looked back at the Chancellor, expecting a smile.

Instead he got a blank expression — which quickly turned into a loud bark of laughter and a grandfatherly grin. He clapped his hands to gain the attention of the crowd and said, “Oh, I believe our brave Hero and his friends have earned themselves a night out for something as innocent and delightful as milkshakes, don’t you say?”

The crowd laughed and nodded; there was scattered applause, and it was done.

Anakin winked at the Chancellor and then turned on the spot, he and Ahsoka striding out the room with Obi-Wan trapped in the middle, waving and bowing at anyone who smiled in their direction.

The three of them escaped out of the ballroom, down the flight of stairs, and out onto the grand balcony overlooking the landing platform, where their ship was waiting in the semi-darkness of the Coruscant night.

Anakin and Ahsoka turned at the same time to look at Obi-Wan, each of them still holding on to one of the Master’s arms.

There was a long silence.

Obi-Wan stared tiredly down at the speeder for a very long time.

Anakin looked at his Padawan nervously.

But then Obi-Wan’s lips twitched beneath his beard, and then he chuckled, and then he burst into uproarious laughter. The sound was infectious; relieved and excited, the other two clung to him and laughed, all of them half-leaning on the railing, cackling like idiots.

They laughed until they ran out of breath, and then laughed a little more.

After a long while, Obi-Wan disentangled his arms from their controlling grips but immediately settled them back, one on Anakin’s shoulder and the other resting on Ahsoka’s back. “I think,” he said, “I promised you milkshakes. Dex’s?”

“Oh, I definitely remember you saying that!” Ahsoka said. “Dex’s is great.”

“Yeah, and you also definitely said you’d pay,” Anakin wheedled.

“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly.

“Awww. Worth a shot,” Anakin whispered to his Padawan.

Obi-Wan smiled. “I said I’d pay for Ahsoka’s. You, my Knighted former Padawan, can pay for your own dessert.”

Ahsoka cheered. Anakin groaned. They strolled off into the night, ambling without haste or urgency or fear, connected by light touches of the hands and arms, and by something deeper and unseen and familial.

There would be time for the war and politics later.

Right now, they were late for dessert.

fin

[midnightsconspiracy]

Her Knight In Shining Armour

Her Knight In Shining Armour - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: You’ve told your daughter stories of the valiant Sir Voight, but what happens when she finally meets her hero

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1518

Requested: Yes!

'Can I get a Voight and singlemom!reader? Maybe she just started working in Intelligence and she has a little girl and her daughter adores Hank? Coworkers to Lovers?'

A/N: This turned out so much better than I imagined. And thank you to the person who requested this who waited till my requests opened again for me to write this.

Masterlist

You knew the step up from being a beat cop to detective would be difficult, and not just for yourself personally with the extra workload and hours, but also for your little girl. Being away from each other was always difficult enough, and now with the longer, more unpredictable hours of intelligence, it would make it even worse. Since it was just the two of you, spending time together was so important, wanting to make sure she felt loved and cherished, despite her father leaving her to feel otherwise. But it was part of the job and this was an amazing promotional opportunity you had been given, something that you'd been working towards even before you had birthed your daughter. And you knew she would understand, being the most kind and considerate child you'd ever met, but that still didn't seem to make the ache in your heart any better. At least with the extra income you'd be earning you would finally be able to afford the dream holiday that you two had always fantasised about going on, and the smile that would grace her face would make it all worth it.

Once your first day had passed though you no longer felt the nerves you'd had previously, going home to tell Hannah all the child-friendly details you could remember. Her favourite part had been the story of all the people in the district, making up little characters out of everyone based on their positions and personalities. And just like you, her favourite character in the whole adventure seemed to be the valiant knight, Sir Hank Voight. A brave and noble man who would do anything to help protect and serve his kingdom and the people in it.

He had been the most helpful person during your transition upstairs as well, explaining anything you didn't quite understand at your own pace, without sounding rude or condescending. There were many a day where you would stay behind after everyone else had gone, getting him to help you study for the upcoming detective's exam that you were so desperate to pass the first time. And he happily did so, not caring that it ate into his evening, much rather seeing one of his member pass than spend his nights alone. He was just overall the most perfect boss that you could ask for, allowing you to fully immerse yourself into the team and avoid that awkward newbie phase that you so dreaded. And with so much time that you spend together, you hoped he would consider you more than just someone who worked under him, but rather a friend, just as much as you considered him one.

Today's workday had seemed like any other, a murder case where the victim had been no one of notoriety, but despite this, you had still solved it promptly and with the utmost reverence. And now that you were home, in your little happy bubble of playing with Hannah and telling her glamorised stories of the day you'd had, you finally felt relaxed and content with the life that you now led. Entranced in the little bubble of satisfaction you'd created, you hadn't heard the doorbell ring, only being alerted to someone else's presence after Hannah had already let them in. Looking up from your place on the floor, you spotted Hank in the hallway, conversing with an enamoured looking Hannah. Going out to join them, you learned on the pillar that connected the rooms, smiling at your daughter's reaction at meeting her hero in real life, watching as she retold the stories she'd heard a million times before. Although you were slightly angry at her for letting someone into the house without your permission, you would get over it, especially as the person was someone you both liked.

"Hannah, give the man a break will you," you piped up finally, trying to get Hannah to stop babbling and let the man get a word in edgeways. She had obviously been so overwhelmed by his arrival that she hadn't let him explain his reason for the unexpected visit.

"Sorry Mommy," she replied back, coming over to hug your legs and give her infamous puppy dog eyes, just to make sure you were angry at her. Stroking over her hair to assure her you weren't, you turned to your guest, a confused look on your face, wondering just why he'd shown up so late after hours.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your evening, I came bearing news. But, that can wait, I want to know more about Sir Voight." Looking up at you with a cheeky glint in his eye, Hannah came bounding back over to him, continuing on about the stories of the chivalrous knight.

And that's what she had done for the rest of the evening, bringing him into your living room to show him the toys she'd all named after your colleagues. It was a little embarrassing at first, sitting at a distance from the two of them, her exposing all the fables you told her over the weeks. Especially when she started talking about his one, flourishing the story a little in his favour in hopes it would make him like her more. But in reality, it just made you seem like a schoolgirl, telling everyone just how brave and handsome her crush was. Although you hadn't told Hannah those things yourself, it didn't mean you hadn't thought of it in your own head, just admiring him from afar. He was a good man and one that you truly saw yourself with especially after all the time you'd spent together. And the way he was with Hannah only exemplified this, your fantasy of a perfect little family becoming more vivid. When you really thought about it, it seemed a little creepy, imagining him as the man of your house. But in reality, it was only because of the scar Hannah's father had left behind, never allowing you the chance to have a proper family unit.

Time had flown by as you remained in your own head, looking over at the clock to see that Hannah's bedtime had been over an hour ago. Luckily for you, she was tired herself, allowing you easily excuse yourself to bring her up to bed. All the playing and excitement had worn her out completely, and as you went back downstairs to where Hank waited, you remembered why he was here in the first place, some big news.

"Sorry about her, she gets a little over-excited sometimes," you explained nervously, scared he would think of you differently now that he knew of your stories.

"No, no it's ok, it's nice seeing her happy. Plus she tells me your a very good storyteller," he replied, smiling at your nervous disposition, just happy that he was getting to spend extra time with you and finally meet the girl you had talked about so much.

"Yeah, sorry about that, she just wants to know about work sometimes and I don't know how to tell her in a child-friendly manner." Trying to reason with him, you attempted to make yourself look as normal as possible, still thinking he'd assume you were crazy for it.

"I think it cute, plus Sir Voight is pretty impressive," he stated, showing you just how much he didn't mind your storytelling antics.

"I guess he is." And as much as you wanted to hide your little crush on the man, your cheeks gave you away, blushing at his confession.

"Oh and the news, I just got the email this evening, you passed the exam. Congrats Detective Y/LN."

A smile burst across your face as he revealed the good news, you hadn't even expected to pass thinking you'd failed after taking it let alone receive the good news tonight. In your excitement, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. Because of your sudden movements, he didn't react quick enough, causing you to pull away equally as quickly surprised at your own affections. Once again you'd embarrassed yourself.

"Sorry I didn't m-mean," you said, retracting your arms, making yourself as small as possible. But instead of reacting how you expected him to have, he bought you back into his arms, whispering another congratulation into your ear. At that you moved your arms to circle his neck again, getting lost in the warmth of his affection. Pulling away slightly, he stared into your gaze, a smile playing on his lips.

"You deserve this Y/N, you really do," he said, placing his hand onto your cheek and stroking comfortingly. Leaning forward he finally went to kiss you, pouring out every emotion you'd both had bottled up since you'd met. And neither of you would have stopped if it weren't for the sudden interruption, Hannah appearing at the top of the stairs, captivated that her mother and hero were kissing.

"Are you and Sir Hank finally together now?" She asked, causing both of you to laugh at her sudden question. Looking at each other to confirm the answer, you both came to an agreement, yes, yes you were.

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

Taglist: @mileika @redpoodlern @chazubagi @scarletsoldierrr@cindydoll2 @anotherfan07 @one-sweet-gubler @yosoynicolexo @prettypsychoinpink @mollyc70 @maisie20

Want to join my taglist? Click Here

[tepid-tea]

I apologize in advance as this is completely unedited and its probably full of errors and typos lol. I’m posting this while in a meeting for work so lol I’ll try and find time to fix anything later. 

This is a Modern AU and all of the prompts will be in the same set. If you have any suggestions let me know! So I hope you enjoy!

Oct 1st_ Fall Leaves “Uncle Caleb nooo!!” Luc shrieked, his laughter ringing high as the boy ran through the fallen leaves.  Each footstep crunched  and rustled as the halfling boy rushed through the piles before disappearing into the mountain of raked leaves.

“Oh no, where did he go?” Caleb called out, his tone playfully rough to fill his role of ‘monster’ in their game. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

They’d been at this for a while now, the young boy ducking into the high piles of leaves that Caleb had raked up in their backyard. Luc was the perfect height to disappear and like his mother could be sneaky when he put his mind to it.  Caleb gave chase as the monster hunting down the young hero while Essek watched from their back porch; taking videos and photos as they played.

This was their first fall in this house; Esseks first fall in the Empire even, so seeing their backyard turn into a sea of golden yellows and vibrant oranges was an absolute delight. He spent several mornings waiting for his partner to wake looking out the window to watch the way the light trickled through the leaves. It was so different from Roshana, where he grew up solely in the city and most of their trees only bore red leaves. Then after meeting Caleb he had lived in Nicodranas for a few years where there were palm trees and it never got really cold enough for the leaves to change much. To now, in the first house that he and Caleb owned together, he got to experience this. 

An old two and a half story home in a nice quiet family neighbourhood with a large backyard filled with trees and space to garden. Hell, they probably had enough room for the green house he and Yasha had talked about once with Caduceus; at that time only a fun dream they shared. Now with Yasha and Beau with their apartment about a half hour into the city by the Soul, perhaps they could give it a try. He and Caleb did hope to have several years in this old house afterall, so they could try.

Soon a loud battle cry pulled back his attention, Essek watched as Luc burst out of the leaf pile with such flare it would make his mother proud and knocked Caleb to the ground. The red headed wizard cried out in defeat, splaying himself out across the grass in equal dramatics. By the exaggerated cry of defeated dying monster sounds their game was finally wrapping up; the afternoon sun starting to set now.

Snapping a few photos to send to Veth and Yeza on his phone of the pair rolling around in the leaves, Essek made his way over. The goal was to get Luc fed and tucked into bed before his parents got home from their date night. Veth would give them shit if the seven year old was still bouncing around by the time they swung by to pick him up. They had only made that mistake once.

“Oh valiant warrior, now that you’ve conquered the dangerous beast I think it's time to wash your hands and get ready for supper” Essek smiled down at the two, rolling his eyes at the groans he got in return. Both seemed to spread out more in defiance, making themselves starfish in the sea of autumn leaves.

 He playfully nudged his partner in the ribs with the toe of his slipper while their nephew had him pinned to the ground still. A large freckled hand grabbed at his ankle in warning; eyes meeting in challenge when there was a slight tug. That earned the human an arched eyebrow in return; daring the human to follow through with his game he was not going to win. When the hand let go of his ankle, the drow gave his human a fanged smirk before looking back at their nephew.

“Come on, Pizza should be here in twenty minutes” Essek waved a hand to adjust gravity then scooped Luc off of Caleb's chest and propped him on his hip. Luc ooed the whole way up, nearly wiggling out of Esseks arms in excitement over the small bit of magic.

With a squirming chatty halfling in his arms, Essek made his way back towards the house as Luc retold his tale of his battle. Sounds of Caleb groaning as he pulled himself up off the ground could be heard as they made their way up the cobbled path to their back deck. Waiving his free hand, Essek levitated his blanket and pillow to fold themselves then follow them into the house.

Once inside he set Luc down so he could grab the levitated items and gesture the boy towards their downstairs bathroom. As the boy scampered away, Essek watched him go before moving to put the outdoor bedding into the trunk by the backdoor.  Once he heard the sink running he called out to remind Luc to remember to use soap, which earned him a sassy ‘yes uncle Essek’ causing him to snort softly.  Shaking his head, he toed out of his slippers and made to head towards their kitchen.

“What do hungry beasts get to eat?” Caleb asked, keeping that same rumbling tone, arms snaking around Esseks waist to stop him. The drow was pulled flushed against the other man's chest, one long ear twitching as a cool nose nuzzles against it. Warm but also slightly cold from their time outside, the others hands toyed with the hem of his sweater.

“Pizza of course; however” Essek paused, turning to gently pluck a stray yellow leaf out of Caleb's hair and looked up at him through his eyelashes.“Perhaps there can be a dessert for him later.”

He watched colour flood his partner's face, hair loose and wildly hanging out of his once braided ponytail. Dirt was smudged over his freckled cheek, blue eyes wide as they dilated into dark pools of desire as they met his own violet. The playful mood shifted for that quick moment now that they were alone in their downstairs hallway, the back door still wide open for whoever in their neighbourhood dared to see.

“But only if he’s real good” He added after with a purr, pressing a brief kiss to the others mouth before slinking out of Caleb's arms.  Essek booped the others' noses with the leaf before disappearing into their kitchen with a sly smile. As soon as he was out of the others line of sight, he heard the human thunder up their stairs to their ensuite bathroom.

Laughing softly to himself, he flicked his journal out of his wristpock and grabbed a pen off the counter. Opening a fresh page he jotted down the date and pressed the leaf in between the pages. Pressing the book closed, he closed his eyes and held the book tightly in his hands  and up against his chest.  Essek listened to the laughter as it echoed through their old but new house and couldn’t help but smile.

[fuckspn]

I posted 1,275 times in 2022

152 posts created (12%)

1,123 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@samdyke

@sunforgrace

@castiellesbian

@fuckspn I'M one of my own top reblogged blogs?? girl help the snake is eating its own tail

@4x01

I tagged 522 of my posts in 2022

#the fuckspn rewatch - 62 posts

#the greatest hits - 10 posts

#heritage post - 6 posts

#oh you know - 3 posts

#prev x2 - 3 posts

#sorry op - 3 posts

#i still think about this post sometimes - 2 posts

#shattered - 2 posts

#prev - 2 posts

#screaming and shaking and spitting phosphoric acid - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#but i’ve only seen up through tombstone so my choice of s8 and s11 is simply because they’re the later seasons i watched almost every ep of

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

okay but there really is something so malicious about how supernatural was allowed to acknowledge dean’s Intense Subtextually Gay Relationships With Men and how they’re Clearly Different From Sam’s Relationships With Those Same Men as long as it’s all directed at the other character. anyone and everyone was allowed to make cracks about cas and crowley being in love with dean for years on end but when dean admitted that his relationship with cas is different than sam’s--i lost cas and it damn near broke me--the line had to be cut. yeah these guys’ relationships with dean are different than their relationships with sam but it’s all because of them being the weird gay ones who insisted on falling in love with dean despite his valiant heterosexual effort to keep them at a platonic arm’s length. of course dean wasn’t allowed to reciprocate cas’ feelings or react to the confession or even be particularly nice to cas because if we acknowledge that dean is part of the reason deanandcas is so different from samandcas then we’re also acknowledging that the gay subtext isn’t just coming from cas but from dean too, which means we’re acknowledging the possibility that our all-american marlboro man action hero isn’t straight. and we can’t have that because it failed the market research

1,261 notes - Posted September 6, 2022

#4

EXTREMELY fun night for terminally online people

1,355 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

#3

claire novak is genuinely the best character supernatural ever came up with. she’s a bitch. she’s empathetic. she’s bratty. she’s selfless. she held a sword to a random teenager’s throat. she has abandonment issues and struggles to accept the love of her adopted family as a result. a gay angel is possessing the corpse of her biological father and using it to have sexual tension with her surrogate father figure. she has a saintlike capacity for love and forgiveness. she is determined to kill and cannot be stopped. she’s a dean mirror. she was a werewolf for a hot second. she’s holding dean’s dvd of caddyshack hostage. she actively refuses to go to college. she broke the unbreakable cycle of violence by forgiving the supernatural creature that destroyed her family instead of seeking revenge. AND she’s a lesbian

1,476 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

#2

how do you even come back from this. how do you survive doing something this embarrassing. i literally think i’d fake my own death and move to a 12-person town in the canadian wilderness

1,565 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

saw trap voice hello, jensen ackles. your spn prequel is at risk of cancellation due to low viewership. you know the only way to save the show is to renege on 12 years of homophobia and make destiel canon for the third time. if you refuse, the show will be cancelled and you’ll have to say goodbye to your best friend dean winchester forever. which will you choose, jensen: dean winchester alive but bisexual, or dean winchester straight but dead? misha collins will tweet about cas being a top every hour on the hour until you make your decision

3,728 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[bubsthebee]

Can’t Say It.

Aizawa x Reader

Word Count: 3,541

A/N: Fluff, dragged out but it’s a happy ending. One shot. Age difference (9 years) Reader is 22 while Aizawa is 31. Mentions of alcohol.  

Reader is a young teacher at UA who has a unique relationship with Pro Hero and coworker Eraserhead. After a while of getting to know each other, will they realize their feelings? OR will they let self doubt get in the way. 

CHARACTER REPORT

Position: UA SCHOOL ADMINISTRATION 

Job Description: Quirk Analysis and Evaluation Processing. 

Name: (L/N), (F/N)                Power: 2/5 D    Intelligence: 4/5 B

Birthday: (5/10)                     Speed: 2/5 B    Cooperativeness: 5/5 A

Age: 22                                 Technique: 5/5 S

Sex: Female (She/Her)

Quirk: Analysis 

-(Y/N) is able to instantly analyze a person and their abilities after observing them, familiarizing themselves with their qurik. This also includes evaluating/predicting situations with higher than average accuracy. With this ability, she can use this information with or against a subject. She can keep up to three peoples' worth of information perfectly memorized at a time. Anymore, her analysis starts to create more errors and her accuracy decreases. 

--

Ever since (y/n) started working at UA, everyone knew that Aizawa’s single streak was in danger. 

While the scruff chined 1-A homeroom teacher taught his bustling young hero course, she supported the admin staff! Specifically falling under processing and evaluating every student's quirk and how to help progress their potential. This means every homeroom teacher ran their notes and evaluations about their students through her every quarter, possibly more depending on how active and intense their training has been. She and her small team are a key to the school’s successful hero and support course. No matter how a quirk was used, they would find the best way to help them improve it. 

Classroom 1-A currently holds the record for most updates and changes to analysis (surprise). With an increase in updates, (y/n) has spent more sleepless nights making sure her work was perfect than she originally thought she was going to. Not that she minded of course! She was young, and found that it helped drive her to improve her passions and skill. Besides her administrative work, she also works as a substitute teacher for English, and Hero Strategy lessons twice a semester. If needed she is more than happy to help with summer lessons. 

Aizawa has had more than his fair share of interaction with the young lady, more than others if one was keeping track. After the hero noticed (y/n)’s sleepless nights because of his students, he offered to stay and bring her coffee. When (y/n) noticed extra heavy bags under his eyes, there would be a nicely wrapped lunch on his desk with a cute thank you note in return. 

Over time a unique relationship developed between the two that anyone looking in could clearly see. Including the students. 

“Mr Aizawa! Your lady friend left ya another lunch, you’re so LUCKY.” Denki and Mineta whined without hesitation. 

“Why don’t we get cute lunches made by cute girls?” 

“Shut up! That’s Ms. (L/n) you’re talking about, not some side chick you dumbos. I think it’s really sweet.” Mina cooed alongside some of the other girls. 

Their homeroom teacher could only sigh, carefully tucking away the lunch box into his work desk as he partially ignored their scattered comments. “Lucky or not, you all should have your notes out and study. Your test scores from  last week clearly tell me I haven’t given enough in class work time. Do I have to cut down on our outside training hours?” The instant shuffling of paper and pencils brought a small smirk to his face. Nothing got his students off his back faster than less training hours. As he took attendance and organized his schedule, the small peeks at the lunch box reminded him about his last encounter with his….coworker. 

--

“Midoriya is such a strange boy you know? I’m surprised his quirk doesn't instantly tear his body apart every time he uses it. I’m glad he’s getting a handle on it, I hated seeing him hurt himself so often.”  You were sat cross legged in your office chair, typing away at your laptop underneath a bright desk lamp. 

“I agree, he needs to learn how to use his body with his quirk.” 

“Exactly!- Well, it looks like his rate of injuries compared to training has decreased. Based off of Recovery Girls records, his quirk usage deteriorated his arm muscle effectiveness. This means he’s got to either limit his usage on his arms, or learn how to use the rest of his body to compensate.” Rubbing your eyes shifted your reading glasses off of your face, exposing the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. 

“You shouldn’t be getting such heavy bags under your eyes like that, you’re too young for those (L/n).” He always notices them, no matter how well hidden. 

“Ya, okay GRAMPS. You’re not that much older than me and YOUR eyes are just as bad, if not worse. And call me (y/n), we’re friends aren't we?” 

Rolling his eyes, Aizawa gets up with a huff to pour some coffee from the nearby coffee pot. “Midoriya is your last report tonight right? Go home, you’ve got Hero Strategy classes tomorrow.” as if on cue, he hands you the cup of warm coffee while you reach out for it with a quiet “Thank you”. 

The way you hold the cup in your hands and let the warm steam brush against your face leaves him staring at you with a soft look. 

“I guess I could leave a little earlier than I thought....” blowing cool air onto the coffee, you slowly take a sip of the warm beverage. Every time you see that look on his face, you can’t help but wonder what he’s feeling. 

After a short while, you both clean up and close the office up. It’s 1 AM and both of you are more than ready to get at least a few hours of sleep in. Like usual, he walks you halfway to your home before bidding his own goodbye. 

“Goodnight (L/n).” As Aizawa turns to walk away, he feels a small tug at his sleeve. 

“I uh-” Turning to look around, he sees you with pinker cheeks underneath a streetlight. How do you always look so...nice? No matter the light you always look nice. 

You slowly slid your hand down his arm to gently hold onto his hand. It was so soft, not just the hold but your skin. You couldn't even look at him but your voice was clear as day. 

“Thank you, for staying with me. I know how tired you must be too….so I feel honored that you decide to spend your important time with me- er, to help me. You’re a great teacher and man Aizawa. Good night.” Just as quick as the moment had started, your touch was gone and you made your way home. 

He was alone, yet he could still feel your touch on his skin. Aizawa stood there for minutes, looking at his hand in awe and strange curiosity. His coworkers and friends told him multiple times, “You two aren’t a thing?”, “It’s obvious that you fancy her Shouta.”, 

“She has to feel the same, you don’t see how she looks at you when you aren’t paying attention.” 

--

         The school bell alerting the start of their first class was what pulled Aizawa out of his mind, looking up to see (y/n) walk into the class with your information tablet. ‘Ah, right. Hero Strategy.’          “Good Morning class! Great to see you all again.” She was chipper as always, her makeup easily covering her endeavors from the night before. The young teacher wore simple black tights with her training sweat jacket, everyone murmured in excitement because this meant that there would be out of class training and demonstrations          Rubbing his exhaustion from his face, the black haired male stands up to go stand near (y/n). “You all have ten minuets to change and get to the field. Any longer and you’ll be stuck in cleaning duty for the week.”

         Iida is quick to stand and grab his fellow classmates attention. “Quickly but in order, please gather your things and head to the gym! No RUNNING!” As valiant as his efforts were, everyone rushed out of the class in fear of being put into the cleaning crew while it was out of their turn. 

         The small smile he saw on your face was sobering, calmly following behind you as you made your way to the gym. 

         Usually, Aizawa would sneak into his sleeping back and nap during other teachers' lessons. These ones were different for him. He would sit off to the side and observe how you worked with the kids.

 While some students could take simple suggestions and immediately apply them, others needed physical examples. You were more than happy to adapt to all their needs as they all trained with their new plans and teachers notes. While Tokoyami nodded and talked with Dark Shadow about your observations, Uraraka carefully mimicked your moves as you slowly countered her attacks explaining how they affected her opponent's momentum even more. 

         He knew you were a natural when it came to children and hero work. The obvious proof was right in front of him. That and he was nine years older than you, yet you both were doing almost the exact same job. That's where everything starts to blur for him. 

         After a quick practice round with Shoji, a rundown with Bakugo about his quirk usage along with Midoriya and the rest of the class, their first class of the day was over. 

         The rest of the day went normal, and (Y/n) left to finish the rest of her lessons while Aizawa did the same. 

 --

         After a long week, you were more than happy to have the weekend to yourself, or so you thought. 

Incoming Call: Keigo <(‘v’)> 

“Keigo?”

 “Hey tiny, sorry to bother but I felt like I should call in and see how you were doing.” 

 “I’m fine, just getting ready to watch some movies and order take in. Had a long week. You?” 

 “Gonna be heading out to an event soon! Glad to hear you're doing good. Any luck with your crush on the office grandpa?”

 You roll your eyes as you wiggle yourself into more blankets, clicking through the different documentaries you could find on YouTube.

  “I don’t have a crush on Aizawa, and even IF I did he is NOT a grandpa. He would probably want someone closer to his age anyway. The whole life experience gap and everything.” 

 “Yeah okay, whatever. Don't get mad at me when you realize I’m right and you're missing out on not being single anymore.” 

 “You’ll be the first person I call when you’re actually right. ” “Ouch-” 

 “Pfft, talk to you later Kei. I have an hour long video about the origin of heroes and it’s calling my name.” 

 “Bye bye!” 

-

         No matter how relaxed you were or how interesting the documentary was, you couldn't get you know who out of your mind. Could you have a crush on Aizawa Shouta? Silver Fox hero of the night? Grumpy man who likes taking naps in the middle of the day? You couldn’t lie, he was attractive and his personality was more than pleasant to you at least. It always felt like something was there between you two..between late night talks and having lunch together sometimes. It felt like there was a connection, and the only thing keeping you two from connecting was a waterfall of hesitation and doubt. 

 “Whatever…”

--

         “WoooOO! Staff Party, this is gonna be a blast Listeners! Present Mic here to keep your evening thrilling with an amazing music selection!” 

         Upbeat music with minimal words played through the old speakers of a rented out ballroom. It was the end of the first semester staff party, everyone was dressed semi formal with their hair done nicely and makeup to match. The decorations were nice, and tables were laid out with food, drinks and chairs to relax and chat. 

         Aizawa was one of the first to show up since he and Yamada came together like usual. Although he socialized with other teachers as they passed by, he stayed closer to the walls and talked with Kayama most of the time. He was dressed fairly well, a simple fitted dark g suit coat with normal slacks. The usually wild and wavy mess of locks was neatly tied back into a very clean half knot that showed off his handsome face. 

         “No date Shouta? I was sure that pretty young thing would be with you tonight. (L/n) Right, she’s such a lovely girl.” Kayama’s hair was curled beautifully around her, a long fitted dress with a deep V cut showing off her lovely charm. Aizawa only rolled his eyes, sipping on his Champaign class to avoid talking even if it was just for a second more. 

         “It would make more sense for her to come in with someone closer to her age or with a friend. She is the youngest person on staff you know.” 

         “Age this age that blah blah BLAH. I know love when I see it-” 

         “Not love, this isn’t some romance film Nemuri.” 

         With a small and understanding smile, Nemuri reaches out to gently pat her dear friend's shoulder. “Someday, you’re going to realize that the things that are holding you back are nothing but a reflection of your own worries. I know you’ll figure it out. You both will. Now try to have fun-” Her attention was stolen away for a moment, a glint of excitement in her eyes clear as day. “If you’re worried about how she feels and how she’s doing, why don't you go show her around and make sure she feels welcomed?” 

         Turning around, the first thing Aizawa see’s is you. A cheesy thing to say, but he almost feels his heart skip a bit.  

         You wore a black turtleneck underneath a midnight blue spaghetti strap dress that fit you just right. Knitted knee high socks and stylish black heel boots finished off your look along with a beautiful pearl pendant necklace. Your hair looked soft and styled in a way he had never seen it before. Your eyes were done up just enough in a way that made them shine even more than they usually do.

         He’s trapped, and he is slowly realizing that he never wants to be set free. 

         When your eyes scan the room for anything familiar, they finally land on a set of eyes that are looking right back at you. You have to stop yourself from visibly gasping, why did his eyes feel so intense? What was he thinking as he made his way across the room to you. 

         Like Moses and the sea, everyone carefully parted to let you both have your moment. They all knew the chemistry between you too, and were more than happy to leave you  alone as they carried on with their conversations and laughter. 

         “You look beautiful.” His voice was low, and held a sense of hesitant tenderness even he was unsure of. You knew he meant it. 

         “And you look very handsome, you even shaved for the party.” With a small laugh you gently ran the back of your fingers across his shaved cheek. This wasn't new, you had done this exact touch multiple times before when you made fun of his stubble yet- it felt more intimate than it ever had before. Aizawa knew he didn't mind it. 

         Carefully sliding his hand into yours, he lifts it up to press a soft and long kiss to your knuckles. “It is a special occasion. Would you like to join me tonight?” He was never a man who cushioned his words, straight to the point and expressing just how he felt was never an issue. You were different. 

         Accepting his offer, you move to accept his offered arm. The night starts slow as you both walk around and chat with other faculty members you work with. With Aizawas help you were confident that you were able to make some new friends, maybe going to this party wasn't so bad after all.

         Everything else almost felt like a breeze. Laughs were shared, drinks were drank- and barriers were being broken down. You and Aizawa found yourselves slowly standing closer and closer together, close enough to where your fingers would brush against each other when one of you moved. All of Pro Hero Eraserhead’s friends could only watch with warm and excited smiles for him. 

         Like always, nights must always come to an end. 

         While some people left to retire for the night, others stayed longer to help clean or help more than drunk coworkers make it home safe. “I’m helping Nemuri make it home Sho! You gonna be okay making it back tonight?” Yamada had Nemuri balancing into his side, laughing as she drunkenly waved some of the others goodbye. “Oh! You all can head back home together if you’d like. I’m just helping clean a bit before I head back home.” you politely cut into their little chat, holding a medium sized black trash bag in your hands. 

         Taking a moment, Aizawa starts to shrug off his coat as he takes the garbage away from you. “I’ll stay behind to help clean. If you’re alright with it I can walk you home.” with wide eyes, the younger teacher could only nod before she turned away to hide her reddening cheeks to pick up more trash and plates. 

         “No worries, now get em TIGEr. RaaArW-” As Kayama tried to cheer her friend on, Yamada tugged her away with an amused laugh of his own. 

          Not even an hour later, everyone was out and the sky was as dark and it could be. The only stars you could see were the large ones as the light pollution shrouded out the smaller and weaker stars. 

         This time around, Aizawa's coat was wrapped around (y/n) shoulders, her head resting on him as they linked arms on the walk back to her house. Instead of splitting off halfway, he walks her all the way up to her front door. It was silent for a moment, the events from tonight silently washing over them. 

         “Thank you Aizawa, this...was a really nice night. I don't think it would have been as enjoyable as it was without you.” (y/n) broke the silence, turning to face and look up at the man she knew she would never look at the same again. Rubbing his mouth in thought, his eyes flicker between the young woman standing in front of him and the road. 

         “I want to thank you as well. I-.” He paused for a moment. 

         “I would like to kiss you, but I understand if you wouldn't. I think after tonight you know what my feelings are for you. I didn't even know about them fully until tonight. Kayama- Midnight was right. I was letting my worries hold me back when I should have been forward like I always am-”  

         Time freezes when he feels your hands pull down his face, your lips eagerly pressing into a kiss with such raw love and desperation. Instantly his arms move around to gently lift you up into him. One minute, two..three. You both only break apart for air and your warm breaths mingle against each other. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now I think. My friend was right haha...maybe I do have a crush on you. I was just worried because I had no idea if you would even be interested in a relationship, let alone with someone as...young as me. I feel like a high schooler again haha.” 

         The fact that you were able to laugh the way you did and still hold him in your arms brought flutters to his chest. He knew now that he more than just saw you as a coworker or a close friend. He wants to be more. “I know what you mean. Who would want to be with someone as old as me? I would never want to make you feel like I was holding you back.” He would never admit it, but he felt like a young adult experiencing love for the first time...it was a bit embarrassing (in a good way.) 

         “You make me feel so helpless sometimes you know that?” pulling his head down again, (y/n) presses another soft kiss to Aizawa’s forehead. “What am I gonna do with you Aizawa?” 

         “Shouta.”

         “Huh?”

         “Shouta, call me Shouta if you want.” Thankful that it was dark out, he could feel himself heat up at the intimate suggestion. 

         With the way your eyes sparkled while you said his name, he knew he was hooked. There is no going back.          “What am I gonna do with you, Shouta?” 

         “You’ll figure it out eventually. I’ll help you along the way as long as you’ll help me too.” The shared silence was an unbroken promise to do the best you both can. 

         After sharing your final kiss good night, you watch Shouta walk down the street and out of view before returning into the comfort of your home. The jacket around your shoulders smelt strongly of the stoic man you now called yours. Enjoying the warmth and comfort his coat brought you, kicking off your boots you hop over your couch and settle into a comfortable position. 

 Calling: Keigo <(‘V’)>

 “WHY are you calling me at….2 in the MORNING. You gave me a damn heart attack-” 

 “You were right.” your voice was soft and held no regrets. 

 “Right? Right about what?” 

 “You were right, I did have feelings for Shouta. I said you would be the first person to call if you were right. And well, you were right.”          The next hour was spent catching your best friend up on everything that happened tonight. 

-

         On the other side of the story, Aizawa finally made it home and had no problem finding sleep that night. He felt as ease knowing that things weren't going to turn out as bad as he thought it originally was going to be. 

         He can't say it, not yet. 

         But he is in love. 

         And so are you.

[yandere-daydreams]

Pleaseee do anything to do with Izuku and his huge amounts of strength. Like we know hes powerful asf I just want to hear about how this man will get a bit impatient and he uses 1% of his power and you get blown across the room- you finally realize that Izuku is holding back, and he could snap your neck if he really wanted to.

He’s too strong for his own good, isn’t he? And it’d only get worse when he’s a Pro, with the skill set proper hero and none of the self-restraint, especially when it comes to keeping his Darling in line. His methods aren’t exactly encouraging, but if he’s lucky, you’ll be too busy nursing a dozen broken bones to act out.

Title: Strength.

TW: Graphic Violence, Mentions of Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, and Delusional Mindsets.

~

In his defense, Izuku had never claimed to be a gentle lover.

He wasn’t violent, either, not when you first got together, not when he was still a stuttering, blushing mess who could barely hold your hand without having to hide his face in your shoulder or make up an excuse to let go a little too early. For weeks, every touch was tentative, every kiss preluded by a flurry of nervous questions. By the time he finally calmed down and swallowed his nerves, you’d begun to wonder how he managed to fight villains without asking if they were ‘alright’ every fight minutes. He’d been afraid of hurting you, back then… or, you guess he’d never really been afraid. He’d been aware that he could, and that’d made him anxious, it’d made him hesitant. But, hesitance was a thing that wore off, with experience, and Izuku was good at adjusting. He was adaptive, and you were too relieved your boyfriend could finally put his arm around your waist to notice just how tight his grip could be, from time to time.

That was your mistake, you guess. You should’ve been more attentive.

You should’ve started paying attention when he started leaving bruises.

But, it was too late to regret that now. Izuku wasn’t your boyfriend, anymore, he was your captor, and you weren’t his playful, fragile partner, you were his stubborn, breakable captive, with too much will of your own and not nearly enough love for him. He hadn’t really accepted it, not yet, but that didn’t matter. It hadn’t since the moment he came home, exhausted and irritated and touchy, and since you’d been as reluctant to let him near you as you always were. Every window was locked, the front door serving as the host to half a dozen different deadbolts, but running was second-nature, by now, as was doing anything and everything you could to keep his fingertips from digging into your sides, to keep that monster away from you, even you knew it’d be useless, in the end. 

But, there were things you could to do draw out the process, and that was why you were currently in a half-empty cabinet, your knees pulled into your chest and your back pressed against something hard and uneven and jagged. Hiding wasn’t preferable, but you only had so many options, and it was so, so much better than the alternative.

Izuku was never happy with your small shows of rebellion, but today, he seemed more disgruntled than he usually was. Even from across the apartment, you could hear him, his incoherent mumbling filling what little empty space there might’ve been, making it hard to think, making it hard to breathe, making it impossible not to wince when a door slammed or one of his steps was heavier than it should’ve been. You could hear him looking for you, but his search was half-hearted, at best, and he seemed to be caught between the urge to find you quickly, and the temptation to huff and mutter and stomp until you came out on your own, your head bowed and an apology already playing on your tongue. You didn’t know if he liked to feel strong, but you knew he loved it when you felt weak. Weak enough to let him act like your faultless, innocent, valiant hero, anyway.

“Baby,” He called out, finally choosing to be a little more proactive with his attempts to threaten you into submission. “C’mon, (Y/n), you know I didn’t mean to scare you. I was frustrated, I didn’t want to grab you, but you were trying to get away from me, and it’s been such a long day, and…” He trailed off, a heavy sigh following a moment of silence. “You know I’d never hurt you, right? Not unless you forced my hand. I spend all day fighting people who want me dead, I wouldn’t have a reason to make you hate me, too.”

He wouldn’t have a reason to. He doesn’t want to. Not he won’t, not he couldn’t, just that if he did, you’d be the one to blame. He could go one for hours, like that, trying to convince you that this was for your own good, that if there was a better solution, he’d stop at nothing to find it, but you were still the one being kept prisoner in your own home while he was free to do as he pleased, in the outside world. And, if you tried to reason with him, if you tried to explain that you could keep yourself safe from more than just domestic trivialities and boredom, it’d be his hand around your throat, and your lungs would be the ones left to scream. You couldn’t say he wanted to, but he certainly didn’t need to. He’d just rather listen to you gasping for air than speaking your mind, apparently.

“I know you can hear me, angel.” His voice was colder, now, more collected but no less hostile than it had been. You could hear his footsteps getting closer, growing louder as he moved onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. Reflexively, you curled into yourself, doing your best to limit what little sound your breathing created, but if he knew where you were hiding, he didn’t feel the need to put you out of your misery quickly, only going on in that smooth, empathetic tone he was so fond of. “There’s really no reason to be this stubborn. I love you, and you love me, and if you’d just see things from my perspective, you’d know why having someone warm and welcoming to come home to is so important to me.”

There was a slight pause. You stopped breathing completely as he took a step towards your chosen sanctuary.

“Or, maybe you wouldn’t,” He admitted. “You haven’t tried very hard to understand me, not since we moved in together.” Since he kidnapped you. Since you woke up, handcuffed to someone else’s bed while Izuku tried to explain why this was necessary. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t love me at all, anymore.”

Another step. Something came to rest on the counter above you with a quiet thud.

“Honestly, I’m starting to think you’re too much of a brat to know what’s good for you.”

With that, he brought his fist down on the countertop, and you hardly had time to think before you were flinching back, elbow colliding with the cabinet wall and making the smallest, hollowest noise. So minor and so quiet that, for a moment, you thought Izuku might've missed it.

But, he hadn’t.

Izuku was always so observant, when it came to you.

In the space between one second and another, the cabinet door was thrown open, something hot and crushing latching on to your ankle, dragging you out of your hiding place and out onto the freezing, unforgiving floor, putting out on display for your oh-so-dedicated assailant. Izuku’s expression was neutral, devoid of everything but a narrowed gaze and thin, pursed lips, but his vice-grip was more than enough to express his anger, so tight, so oppressive, it felt like your bones might cave in underneath it, collapse into little more than dust and fragments and helplessness. It was awful. It was painful. Already, tears were building up in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision, making the man above you into little more than a muddled image of tan skin dark eyes and ugly, ugly delusions.

And then, he squeezed.

His free hand came up, his palm pressing against your mouth and stifling your scream, but that did little to soften to blow, to stop something in your ankle from cracking as pressure turned into force, and force turned into fire, racing from your heel to your knee as you tried to kick, tried to writhe, tried to do anything that might lessen the pain. It was pointless. Izuku’s grip was stead-fast, keeping you grounded and forcing you to reach out, instead, your fingers soon tangled in his hair as you pulled at his scalp and pushed at his chest, an effort that only made you feel childish, that only made you feel weak. Yelling wasn’t an option, not when it was all you could do to bite your sobs into whimpers and bury your face in his shirt as you began to cry in earnest, pain and fear turning into something dark and desperate, even if his touch had never done anything to comfort you.

Still, Izuku tried. He didn’t pull you up, didn’t move to help you, but he wrapped an arm around your midriff as you lost the will to struggle and rubbed soft, delicate circles into your side, a gesture you didn’t doubt there’d be bruises for, tomorrow. “I’m sorry, I got carried away,” He started, the words whispered against the crook of your neck. “It’s just…”

There was a light, almost inaudible chuckle. 

You wondered if you’d be able to claw his eyes out before he broke your hands.

“Accidents happen, right?”