#I have much different experiences than her of course but it is refreshing to hear gnc women talk about acting

[7central]

yeah Roberta Colindrez' recent podcast feature YEAH yeah truly being an actor has caused more shit for my gender than anything else bc it's constantly a game of your body does not belong to you. and being bad at womanhood until you realize lesbianism is a possibility uh yeah literally posted about that 5 years ago on my main blog LMAO

[chaifootsteps]

Obligatory "I know it's petty, but"... seeing your tweet replies in response to the Viv stans simply not caring about the people she's hurt COMPLETELY ratio their tweets in terms of likes makes me really happy. It's like there's finally more sanity showing its face in this whole Vivziepop topic, after YEARS of people being to afraid to even touch the topic, people are finally getting fed up and supporting these posts with the information of her abuse. "I don't know how to explain to you that you should care about other people." and ""I didn't read the screenshots because I don't care as long as I get my shitty demon show" is what I'm hearing." are great, VERY true, and much deserving of having 10x the amount of likes that the stan replies have, lol.

I don't want to make you feel weird or put you on a pedestal or anything, because it definitely took a LOT of brave people speaking up about their experiences to finally get to this point, but thank you for being so persistent and reliable in archiving this information and making sure it gets seen. You're probably the most consistent source (with the help of the others that find and send you screenshots of course) of reliable information regarding Viv's history of abuse, and as somebody who's gotten horrible vibes from her since 2016, it's so nice to finally have this many sources to reassure that I was right in feeling that way. Friends of mine that've dismissed any claims of abuse as "lying and drama-starting for clout" in the past are FINALLY realizing with all this information that's coming out, as well as the horribly childish behavior from Viv on Twitter recently, that she actually IS a bad person, and has been for a while. It's so refreshing to finally see the tides really starting to turn, and more people not letting this shitty behavior be brushed under the rug anymore.

It comes at the cost of invoking the feral rage of the crazy mob side of the fandom, but it's really, truly making a good difference in spite of their bitching, and I love that. So, thank you! Please keep staying safe, and DEFINITELY never turn off your VPN, those fandom extremists sound disturbing as fuck.

It's extremely reassuring to see how much sanity has been going around...like it's been locked up in a chest all these years and suddenly burst free! I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and it will have all been a dream.

And thanks, Anon. <3 It's deeply appreciated, although it's true, the credit goes to Vivzie's victims who put those screenshots out there first and took the full force of the Viv mob for it. And they had industry careers to worry about -- all I did was collect them from said victims, collect them from people who are better sleuthers than I'll ever be, make snarky remarks, and have my dragon fetish made fun of.

I couldn't be more proud of this motley group than I am. But yeah, the VPN is definitely staying on!

[tacticalhimbo]

Howdy hey! Today is my day, so I bring to the table a transfem!IQ & Osa ficlet for @dualrainbow 's Suns Out Guns Out (SOGO) event!

I have a few trans* headcanons for the R6 operators (being transmasc myself), and thought it would be fun to kind of explore one of those headcanons with a canonically trans* operator as well. As such, this ficlet is inspired by the fresher, Nighthaven arc (post 2022 Six Invitational).

Left this vaguely open in terms of whether it's ship or not, but I like to imagine this as a sort of "first step" for the two 💕

This is also loosely inspired by a few coming out experiences of my own, as well as similar conversations in general about gender. Because let's be real, that shit can be awkward sometimes-

Translations are at the bottom of the ficlet, but please forgive if these aren't 1:1 or perfect uses! I researched them but you can only find so much on forum sites and Reddit. German was easier for me to verify as I'd studied it, but there weren't a lot of resources on Croatian that I could find so I do apologize.

I've jokingly dubbed this "Transfems in STEM", but there isn't an official title or anything. Purely vibes!

Rambling aside, I hope y'all enjoy! Here's a brief summary:

WORDS: 1.2k FANDOM(S): Rainbow Six Siege WARNINGS: Brief (though non-graphic) mentions of transphobia, both external and internalized.

Fic below the cut!

They had met here and there through their service with Rainbow. Mostly through the guidance of others—and most notably when paired together under the command of Kali—but their natural interests in technology had meant one would always seek the other out when hearing of interesting new news. Of course, and perhaps humorously, the other person in the pair had already heard the news as well… But it was still nice to chat back and forth about their thoughts. It was refreshing.

It was something that became a routine habit between the two, and that led to them breaking out of their shells with one another.

Monika was hardly a social type, even within her own team. She cared deeply for them, and genuinely did see them as her friends. Stated time and time again that they were, even if her actions weren't always indicative of such. There was still this lingering distance. A subtle discomfort that stemmed from somewhere deeper within. A lingering insecurity that she may say too much, or that she wouldn't 'meet the mark' and humiliate herself in doing such.

Likewise, Anja was cordial with most (if a bit colder). Quicker; to the point. Her care for others, more often than not, showed through her work. Hours spent tinkering away in research and development labs to present a personalized gadget. Ngũgĩ's Mag-Net, Håvard's Aqua Breacher, and specialized prosthetics for Apha. Yet even then, there was a less-than-subtle difference. One that she deliberately placed there; talking with her, especially on a personal level, was a professional courtesy. Something the may help the team, but that took away from her work. Placed her in a spotlight that—depending on the day—she'd rather avoid.

Yet there was this magnetic pull between the two.

An odd chemistry that led to after-hours chats amongst the strewn about circuitry of the labs. Dimmed lights shone over the dark epoxy resin surfaces and the two women sat upon stools, idly picking away at whatever takeout they'd managed to get sneak back into the base through the clever use of the German's hoodie. Equally idle chatter filled the still air, conversations waxing and waning through topics and padded by light laughter as they'd recalled whatever wild stories that came to mind. Those from their former teams, from their lives before involvement with Rainbow…

"You know," Anja began, "You seem like the sci-fi type. Have you ever seen Empress of the Plutomatons?"

Monika's eyes lit up, hand briefly sitting over her mouth as she'd forced herself to finish the mouthful of food she'd just taken in. All the while, she nodded excitedly.

"Have I ever—Of course I have!" Another fit of laughter from the two at the enthusiastic outburst. "You know, I always wanted to base my whole look off of the Empress. The long, wavy hair. The fierce make-up. Weißte? Everything about her was just so…"

"Perfect?"

A dreamy sigh. "Sehr perfekt."

"What stopped you?" A genuine curiosity lingered in the Croatian's tone, eyes studying the other as she mulled the thought over. "You would pull it off well."

A warmth began to spread over the apples of Monika's cheeks. A subtle skip in her pulse that, while undetectable to the other occupant in the room, felt deafening. Then a subtle chill down her spine. What had stopped her was fear. The idea of being a caricature, that is more so than people around her life at the time had believed her to be. She stood out enough as she grew into her femininity. Hated every scrutinizing second that'd pass while she simply existed within the public eye. Glossed lips parted to release a soft sigh.

"It's… a long story."

"And not one you feel like sharing?" Anja piqued a brow, tilting her head slightly as she sipped at her drink.

The slow shake of the head. A nauseating bubble as her mind wandered to potential reactions to the explanation. A lingering wanting that brought Monika's mouth to move before her mind could stop it.

"Well. It's just—it felt… wrong. Like it wouldn't have really been who I am. That doesn't make sense, I know—"

"It does. Trust me." Anja smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. She was thankful the reflections on the glasses hid it. "I am sure you've probably heard all about me from the others. You know, even under Kali's command, not many of them wanted to work with 'someone like me' at first. I was used to it, it was no different in Zagreb—the same old discussions that you learn to tune out for something better."

Monika's interest was piqued. What did she mean by that? She had heard gossip of her direct approach to things. Her passions for the job. How she was had her soft spots, as much as she denied them. But…

"Heard about what?"

There was a long pause upon hearing the question. A near-uncomfortable silence that filled the room. Then boisterous laughter as the operator keeled over at the table.

"Molim—You can't be serious. Everyone finally shuts up about it, and I'm the last to find out?" She wiped at her eyes, briefly lifting her glasses from her features before settling back into her resting position. "I'm transgender, Monika."

Another long pause, though much less uncomfortable than the first. Rather, it was like someone had popped a bubble encasing the room and released all the tension built up within it. Unconsciously wound muscles found themselves relaxing at the statement, and lips curled upward in a comfortable smile.

"That makes two of us, then." Another sigh from Monika, though now it stemmed from a place of relief. Even with the intrigued look that crossed the other's expression.

"Really? I would have never guessed. Not because of your appearance, but—" That wasn't quite what she'd wanted to say, nor how. Shit. Her excitement got the better of her. "It was never mentioned by anybody."

Thankfully, Monika didn't seem to take offense to any potential—and notably accidental—insinuations. In fact, she laughed softly.

"Not many people know; I prefer it that way, personally. Of course, my old team knew. Medical staff. I think besides them, the only person I ever felt comfortable to tell was Doctor Pandey." A pause. "Until now, of course."

"That is… a lot of trust to put in a person." There was a shift in the operator's tone. A genuine surprise that broke through that cold, confident demeanor. Anja didn't think they were that close.

"I know. I trust you, that is why."

But she wasn't complaining. In fact, quite the opposite: She reveled in the fact. It meant that while Monika had broken through her walls, that she had also broken through Monika's. She still succeeded. They both did. And that brought a smile to her face. One that mirrored the one on her counterpart's.

"Is that so?" A genuine inquiry; an attempt to dissect how far that trust ran.

And Monika leaned into the attempt. Sat forward to sit her elbows on the table between them and rest her chin atop her palm as a blanket of comfort draped over her shoulders; caused her muscles to unwind and her posture to slump. All the while, that smile lingered on her lips.

"It is."

[ Translations ] Weißte? = You know? (German) Sehr perfekt. = So perfect. (German) Molim = Varying uses; Contextually used as "Please" in a "You can't be serious" kind of way (Croatian)

[good-beanswrites]

Eheheh! The anon who sent the ask on the Lights, Camera, Sing Your Sins here! Happy to hear you like the silly thought I made up, bonus on making a small drabble on it! So happy! >w<

So I guess when Mikoto's condition is revealed during his first interrogation, everyone's like "Ooooooh that's why..." over it. And uuuuuuh, does Kotoko feel bad for bashing Mikoto back then? I think it's not scripted according to that post you made back then, but no hard feelings between them, right? And I guess Shidou wouldn't be happy that the prisoners are getting into actual fights ;;

I really did! :D Thank you so much for reaching out, I love hearing people’s thoughts and ideas!!

I'm always very committed to keeping any canon hatred accurate -- I won't sugar-coat a relationship that has been stated to be terrible. However. This is not canon, and I am employing every fix-it in my arsenal >:3 So yes, there are absolutely no hard feelings between them and after every trial they hang out and make up!!

It pains me that all the violence in Mikoto’s interrogation has to be real, but yeah, neither of them pull any punches. Of course Red doesn’t want to hurt Es, but I picture all the prisoners really driven by the desire to tell their stories. Unlike in canon, the au characters are very aware that they’re going to represent a larger social issue/group of people. So when Mikoto is instructed to really sell it, he does it for the sake of accurate experiment results for others like him – and clings to the trust that Es signed up for this. 

And Kotoko’s interference is such a core part of her character: she’s observant, she’s clever, she’s used to and skilled at breaking rules, and she’s such a protector, even to the person who’s holding her imprisoned. It felt unfair to take that away from her by making it something Milgram scripted, so her reaction had to be real and just as violent ;-;

Okay so you know when you’re playing a game with friends/family and you feel very real anger at them for their decisions/actions? Then after it ends you can cool off and acknowledge it was just a game and there’s no hard feelings at all – but you can still clearly remember what made you upset and know it was valid? That’s what I'm picturing when the prisoners write their t2 plans. Kotoko’s anger towards the guilty prisoners is genuine by the end of the first trial. She’s very hurt that Mikoto wouldn’t tell them the truth about himself, after all the secrets they’d collectively shared. She’s disgusted by the others’ actions. She’s not actually planning on beating them up, but she recognizes she kinda wants to lol. Amane does hate Shidou. Yuno is tired of everyone. 

But a few days after the first trial ends, they start interacting in a setting that isn’t immersive anymore. They’re able to relax and talk through everything with clear minds. Kotoko apologizes profusely for hurting Mikoto during the interrogation, admitting that she’s not entitled to anyone else’s secrets. Amane apologizes to Shidou. She may not be as friendly to him as he was hoping, but she tells him that she understands they live under different codes and she shouldn’t hold hatred in her heart. Yuno gets a bit of time to refresh herself while they’re debriefing and collaborating with the writing team. She’s excited to be around the others by the time filming starts up again. Anyone who has anger towards Es lets it soften, feeling bad that they’re allowed to get a fun break while Es must remain asleep.

And I think Red and Kotoko would actually get really close in the au, despite their rocky start! They have very similar ideas on protecting the people they care about and being disgusted by those who abuse their power. Koto-koto duo is real!! 😤I can’t say for sure because so much could change in t3, but I’m hoping to write the two of them bonding over being labeled “the scary violent one” and slammed with a guilty vote next time ;-; 

If anything, Blue is more upset that she attacked Red than he is himself. (“That was our interrogation, what was she even doing there?”) And like you said, Shidou doesn’t want anyone to get hurt for real, so he pleads with them to keep their violence as staged as possible, going forward. He’s also extremely upset with Milgram that they’d let Es get hurt (since he’s the one who treated them afterwards). It takes such long time to assure him it won’t happen again, and that it was a one-time twist that Es signed off on beforehand.

Although I think the violence is going to get worse during this next hiatus, the au characters will actually feel less emotional, in my mind. After doing this for so long, I'm sure it would get easier to regulate which emotions are real and which result from too much immersion -- so there will be less to apologize and make up for this time, they're already very close and happy :')

[thinkin-bout-milgram]

I believe Mahiru has Schizophrenia

(Go to third paragraph if you want to skip my prefaces and meandering. I also put a fairly simple to understand DSM-5 criteria screenshot from one of my textbooks for schizophrenia near the bottom)

Admin Saturn here post Mahiru drop, I’m sure others will have either similar or very contrasting thoughts on this but I thought I’d offer my own perspective on it as a psych major and a person with a family member who has schizophrenia. She definitely shows a lot of symptoms of schizophrenia which of course doesn’t necessarily mean this is what they’re intending to portray with her, nor a good portrayal, but I want to put my thoughts out here.

I also want to say that I’m most familiar with schizophrenia and this could very easily fall into a different psychotic disorder I’m less familiar with so I’ll be doing some research into those to either rule out other possibilities or hone in more on a potential schizophrenia portrayal.

Starting with the most basic, she’s near the typical age of onset for schizophrenia in women which is mid 20s to early 30s. (although of course theres a very broad range)

Going on to criteria A. To start there are three ‘main criteria’ that are often the most telling for people with schizophrenia. These include 1. delusions, 2. hallucinations, and 3. disorganized speech. I would say mahiru definitely meets delusions and hallucinations based on this MV. 

While auditory hallucinations are the most common, and having fully formed and incredibly all encompassing visual hallucinations like the ones depicted in her MV are very uncommon, milgram depicts very specific and intriguing cases. The fact that all the prisoners hear our voices also makes it difficult to be able to tell if she might experience auditory hallucinations as well, but it’s something I’ll be looking out for. 

To say more on delusions (and keep in mind I’m reporting all this in a very simplified version sans context because theres a lot about delusions within psychotic disorders. And also this is just with just a quick refresher from a previous textbook) there are a few kinds. Mahiru would be expressing erotomanic type where you believe a person is madly in love with you and you two were meant to be together. This is most often experienced in relation to celebrities but again, milgram tries to take looks at the most ‘intriguing’ cases.

The other criteria are 4. grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior and 5. negative symptoms. Schizophrenia can be thought of as having negative and positive symptoms. Positive symptoms are things like hallucinations and delusions that add a nonreal experience where negative symptoms reduce a typical experience/self expression. (again, simplified) So some negative symptoms a person could experience would be reduced affect or a lack of pleasure from everyday activities. I don’t see her having any reduced affect but I could definitely see her having grossly disorganized behavior.

Grossly disorganized behavior includes not understanding you have a problem (specifically in a lacking insight way), another thing is cognitive slippage where a person will jump from topic to topic or talk illogically. While we haven’t seen her have these symptoms recently, the deterioration of her notebook entries could be an attempt to show the audience this.

A person must have at least 2 of these 5 symptoms.

She also def meets criteria B (worsened hygiene at the very least which doesn’t even bring in how much these actions likely impacted the other aspects of her life)

I can’t say for sure with C, D, or E, however F I can say has been met.

Something important to note is that it’s hard to tell if Mahiru would meet the criteria of experiencing this for the past 6 months. We don’t know how long she was holding him captive (although I think from the wear it looks like he experienced it was longer than the few days expressed in her journal) but it’s still difficult to know. If she hasn’t, it would be important to look into schizophreniform which is a shorter version of it and brief psychotic disorder which is an even shorter version. These can have a better long term prognosis.

In regards to outcomes that people with schizophrenia can experience long term with treatment vary. Unfortunately, many people never make a full recovery and continue to experience symptoms, especially those who never receive treatment. Schizophrenia is typically considered a chronic disorder. They typically benefit most from a structured inpatient facility with good care and this is a disorder where med compliance is one of the number 1 things that can impact recovery. However, that definitely doesn’t mean they can’t. With med compliance, a good support system as well as coping skills and frequent checkups symptoms can severely lessen to almost disappear. Especially with schizophreniform and brief psychotic disorder, there are a lot of cases where a person can experience one case of it and never have these symptoms again (although it is also a very big risk factor for a later schizophrenia diagnosis)

Another thing to consider going forward in regards to being able to ask her questions would be asking about childhood and family history. Schizophrenia is highly hereditary and there are also some early flags in childhood that include atypical beliefs or some of the negative symptoms.

From a personal standpoint, I would also say that my family member expresses a lot of floaty whimsical type ideas. Not quite in the Mahiru love way but it has similar vibes? I don’t quite know how to describe it because it’s such a specific mannerism but it’s just another coincidence I thought I would add.

Theres always the availability heuristic and I know a lot about schizophrenia and it’s something I think about a lot more than the average person. However, I do feel that she meets a lot of criteria and I’ll definitely be looking for more signs.

[melonteee]

i just wanted to say that i love your videos, more specifically your analysis ones. (one piece and the especially the yugioh ones) you’re so well-spoken and every video essay is so articulated, i feel like i just attended a lecture class for the one piece 1101 course taught by dr. melonteee. i love hearing your interpretations of the characters and what you make of different arcs or topics. (i also love how you say “wano” i literally only say it in the way you do now it’s so satisfying and scratches an itch in my brain) i make jewelry and i always put them on in the background to listen to while i work. honestly, if you had a podcast i would 100% listen to it <3

i found you through your boa hancock video. when i watched it, i teared up, because the way you talked about her story was so understanding and emphasized all the parts of her i love. it felt like you fully understood her character. i really connect with boa and she’s my favorite out of all the one piece girls. as a survivor of sexual assault, boa’s internalized guilt over something she couldn’t control and the way she overcompensates in her actions is something i relate to. you described her so well in your video and it was refreshing to see someone else with a different opinion of her. i’ve seen so many times people reducing her character into only the bad parts. that she’s only there to support luffy or that she’s annoying and it hurts. she deserves to experience romance, whether it’s reciprocated or not, and she deserves to be a bit excessive. that’s what i love about her!! she’s dramatic and unapologetic. it’s the best!!!!! it’s important to talk about characters like her and to see survivors as more than just that, but as people, who do or say ridiculous things. i’m sorry to turn this into a boa hancock rant i just love her a lot and your video on her was amazing.

thank you so much for talking about her and handling her story so well. you’ve really inspired me to look deeper into these characters and made me want to understand them a bit more. i love listening to whatever you make and i get so excited when you post. i’m glad that you’re enjoying making these videos. thank you thank you thank you!!!! have a good day/night!! <3

!!! Thank you so much!! This all means a lot to me truly, and I’m so happy I reached so many people with that Boa video. She really touched my heart the way she touched yours, and one of the reasons I made it is because I couldn’t stand how people saw her as this detestable, annoying being for her surface level actions.

I’m also truly sorry for what happened to you anon, and that was another reason Boa being perceived the way she did upset me so much. Because I could see exactly what her story was supposed to portray, and more than anything I wanted people to understand she IS a victim and her stone mask is due to that lack of empathy she never received. While Boa is a comical character, how she processes her trauma and what she feels is so painfully realistic, and I felt there must be a pain some real life people who relate to her would feel in seeing how Boa is hated by a fair chunk of fans.

But of course, anyone is free to dislike Boa! I just want everyone to have more of an understanding of her, and I really am so happy my essay on her spoke to you. We can really learn empathy through what we watch sometimes, and Boa’s story made my heart hurt so much that it truly taught me a lot in terms of how trauma can shape a person.

I hope you’ve found healing and love anon! I know you’re on anonymous, but speaking of your own experiences still takes a lot of strength, and I’m glad this space I’ve catered made you feel comfortable enough to do so.

Also, I’d love to make a podcast! I just don’t have many ideas for one HAHA but!! If I ever have a brain blast, I’ll be sure to start one! Thank you again! 🫶

[facesofcsl]

Crishia Dela Paz- Psychology Major and Sociology Minor undergraduate

Crishia Dela Paz (She/Her) is in her last year of studies, majoring in psychology and minoring in sociology. She took a psychology course with a CSL component and fell in love with CSL. She has previously been placed with the Campus Food Bank and is currently doing a Non-Profit Board Internship with Sombrilla International Development Society. She looks forward to working with the Edmonton Immigrant Services Association for the winter term of 2024.

Why did you decide to do a CSL course? To be honest, I didn’t know what CSL was in the very beginning. Because I’m a psychology major, I ended up taking some psychology courses that had the community-service learning component out of curiosity and interest. I thought it would be cool to get some hands-on experience because we’re always stuck in our books. Eventually, someone brought my attention to the community service certificate that comes with graduation. That pushed me to take more CSL courses, and I ended up falling in love with them. It became more than just a volunteer thing for me. I feel that people should probably take designated CSL courses before they go into a course with CSL components so that they really understand what they are doing and the impact they’re making.

What was your favorite CSL placement, and why? I took a senior psychology course, PSYCH 423- Peer Relationships in Childhood, and my favorite placement would probably be Free Play For Kids, an afterschool program focused on providing extracurricular activities for kids who wouldn't usually have the opportunity to do so. It was nice to interact with kids because they generally have a totally different way of thinking and no filter. They’ll come up to you and say what they’re thinking about, and in a way, I envy them for that. It was just so refreshing to be around these tiny people who didn’t really care what others thought and always made sure their thoughts were heard.

Did CSL expose you to new experiences and knowledge? How and what? I never really considered my privilege, positionality, and what that might look like to others. My experiences in CSL have allowed me to become more aware of the ignorance that comes with the privilege that I’ve had. In the past, I always used to go into these CSL placements thinking that I was going to make a difference by helping in the best way I knew how, but the CSL courses really bring you back down to earth and push you to think critically, considering underlying structural problems, and most importantly, to look in the mirror and consider what your responsibilities may be as a person with your privilege and your positionality.

Are you completing the CSL Certificate? Why? I never really intended to complete a CSL certificate, but the program reached out to me and let me know that I only needed one more course to meet the requirement. It was kind of like a bonus, but I’m really glad that I continued to pursue it because I’ve learned so much about myself in the process. I’ve become more self-aware and built a greater capacity for understanding others.

What was the most important/memorable lesson you learned? The most memorable lesson I’ve learned from CSL is the importance of engaging in critical thinking. That’s the thing about CSL experiences: interacting with the community teaches you lessons that can be generalized to your interactions with anyone, anywhere. Therefore, I’ve been able to apply critical thinking to many areas of my life. I come from a culture where people will only take the information they want to hear before asking the important questions. Critical thinking pushes you to ask questions like “Who’s telling the story? What side is missing? Is there bias present?” These questions are so important that they are the same questions that are at the beginning of solutions to real problems or structural inequalities in society. I found that it’s easier now to gauge what a person’s capacity for compassion and understanding might be by the way they talk and behave. I then maintain those connections accordingly.

How would you sum up your experience with CSL in one sentence? In learning to better understand others, I better understood myself, which I believe made me a more responsible community service provider in the process.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Straight-Forward Arrangements.

A Continuation of Back-Handed Proposals.

Pairing: Ayaka x Reader (+ Yandere!Ayato) [Genshin].

Word Count: 0.7k.

TW: Mentions of Arranged Marriage.

Ayaka was waiting outside when you left Ayato’s office.

She worry was visible, her posture stiff and her hands clasped tightly around her closed fan, something caught between disappointment and concern written across her expression. As you closed the screen door, she looked towards you, but you only shook your head, letting out the sigh you'd been holding in for the better half of the last hour. “How much did you hear?”

She cringed, her wariness as thoroughly engrained as your own. “Only a little, but enough to know he's not taking visitors." She paused, turning her fan over in her wrist. In a fraction of a second, it had dissolved into little more than golden dust and specks of stray light. "Is he scheming again?”

“As if he ever stops.” You shut your eyes, bringing a hand up to massage your temples. Your exhaustion, although dramatized, was mostly genuine. “I’m afraid he’s realized he might be able to use marriage to his advantage, as well – in addition to all of his usual tools, of course.”

Pursed lips, this time, a gaze narrowed at nothing in particular. Stepping away from the door, you offered her your arm, and with only a moment of hesitation, she accepted it, resting her hand gingerly on the crook of your elbow as you started towards the Kamisato Mansion’s main entrance. “Please don’t tell me he’s already gone and gotten himself engaged. Has he started drafting wedding invitations? Or, is he still looking for an able suitor?”

“None of the above. In fact, I’d say he’s practicing something close to caution, this time.” Speaking to her was… different than speaking to her brother. With Ayato, everything was a challenge, a chance to grab up as much power as he could while allowing none of himself to be taken, in turn. While Ayaka wasn't one to wear he heart on her sleeve, she made no attempt to hide her exasperation from you, nor the dark bags under her eyes, nor her intent as she leaned against you as you walked, the gesture as subconscious as it was telling. She made no attempt to hide her weakness in your company, nor did you have to act weak to share hers. It was almost refreshing, compared to Ayato’s exhausting mind-games. It was almost nice. “I think he wants to experiment. He seems to be determined to marry off Thoma or I first – or, convince us to do his dirty work ourselves, rather. Whichever Lord Kamisato finds more entertaining.”

There was a beat of silence, a new quirk to her small frown. “Did he ever mention me?”

It shocked you, sometimes, just how unlike her brother she really was. “Why do you ask, Lady Ayaka?”

“I don’t mind, really. It’s something we’ve discussed before in theory, but I assumed it was only a passing idea.” She kept her voice steady, her back straight, but her grip tightened around your arm, her nails just barely digging into your skin. It didn't hurt. You didn’t bother to push her away. “You don’t have to spare my feelings. Brother knows I’m willing to do to whatever I can to help the Yashiro Commission, and if he wishes to take advantage of that, I won’t object. I know he must have Inazuma's prosperity in mind.” She laughed, lightly, breathily. “It’d be fitting, if anything. The Shirasagi Himegimi has always been a symbolic position, and I’d be of the most use as a—”

“That’s not going to happen.”

She glanced towards you. “Excuse me?”

“That would never happen.” You pulled away, but only far enough to stand in front of her, instead, to take her hands in yours and bring them up to your chest. “What you do for the Yashiro Commission is vital. The Shirasagi Himegimi might be a figurehead, but she’s a figurehead the people of Inazuma have chosen to put their faith in. You are invaluable to both the Yashiro Commission's and the Kamisato Clan's prosperity, and that has nothing to do with who your bother is or what plans he might have for you.” You let yourself take a deep breath. “You are invaluable to me.”

She was quiet, for a moment.

By the time she responded, there was a faint blush painted across her cheeks. You could only hope it wasn’t entirely out of embarrassment. “If Ayato is preoccupied,” She started, slowly. “Then I think I might start my afternoon training session early. Would you care to join me?”

You nodded a little too quickly. It took you another moment to think to let go of her hands, and yet another to step to the right and reassert yourself at her side. “There would be no greater pleasure, my lady.”

“I know. I’ve heard what you think of my swordsmanship.”

“So you were listening, you brat.”

[cyphertripping]

hii i really like ur writing! you have the exact same favs as me hehehe

can you do some Cypher, Viper, Fade and Neon HCs for a reader that's shy but easily excited and really likes hanging out with them? i feel like all four of our favs have some degree of "being confused when people want them around despite everything" and that's honestly *chefs kiss* (although some would open up more easily than others)

of course!! this is such a fun concept! i did kind of half established relationship/ meeting/ up to interpretation for relationship status but i hope you enjoy :D

Shy!reader HCs (Cypher, Viper, Fade, Neon)

Word Count: 1000+

Fluff

Cypher

He’s not sure when this became a habit, but a little mouse has become regular company in his workshop

By little mouse, he means you

It’s not unwelcome by any means and it’s not like his workshop is closed off to anyone

But he can’t exactly fathom why

He’s not the most welcoming looking person and most of the protocols are suspicious of how much he knows about them

Despite your quiet demeanor, it seems you’ve taken that to mean you can now learn about him as much as you want

Cypher likes to play the radio, either some lo-fi playlists or work background music

Sometimes he hears you humming along and smiles to himself

After awhile he figures it would be rude not to offer you some tea or a drink

The two of you bond talking about tech

One time you ask about what work he’s doing on his trips and he laughs cheerfully

“Well, I’m experimenting with different string tensions for my wires. You see, a simple horizontal tripwire is straightforward. But finding the tension for a perpendicular one? One time I caught the other Jett in it and she was like a fly in a spiderweb. I’m trying to perfect that.”

He would love collaborating on new traps and lineups with you

He also appreciates that you’re quiet. Not because he hates talking (the opposite— this man never shuts up if you let him), but because you see things others don’t

On missions, you’ll be the one to tell him, “they always send someone up long” and help him adjust his set ups.

He’s not sure what he did to deserve your trust and friendship, but he’ll do his best to never break that

Viper

She’s someone who prides herself on maintaining a certain level of professional distance/ fear with the other members of the protocol

That’s why you bewilder her

She doesn’t understand why you don’t cower from her and always greet her quietly in the mornings, a small smile on your face

But Viper only really starts paying attention to you when you save her on the field, shooting someone who had been about to come up behind her through her poison

When you express interest in her work and her poison, she counts it as reasonable repayment to actually take the time to explain things to you

What she doesn’t expect is for you to keep coming back

It’s always under the excuse of something, “oh, Brimstone asked me to forward this message to you.” “Why didn’t he just page me?” “I was on the way, I didn’t mind! Also I brought coffee.”

She did appreciate the coffee. The company wasn’t bad either.

It’s been a long time since anyone viewed her as the researcher she once was (except for those who wanted to use the information to poke at old wounds), and with actual interest

Eventually, she starts coming to you for your thoughts. As someone with a science background yourself, but who left academia for your own pursuits, your insights are… refreshing

It’s a working relationship, she tells herself, nothing more. She doesn’t know if her heart could stand making it more than that.

Fade

It takes a long time for Fade to warm up to you, much less even acknowledge your presence when you hang around her outside of missions

She appreciates that you’re a quiet person— i.e. Raze, as welcome as her friendliness is compared to the cold shoulders she’s been getting, can be a bit overwhelming

What she doesn’t expect is that you’re genuinely interested in her and her powers

As a fellow insomniac, the two of you tend to run into each other in the common area at odd hours

Over time, the two of you start chatting over Fade’s slow brew coffee

It’s fair to say most of the Valorant protocol don’t sleep well after everything you all have been through, but you’re the first one who appreciates her, even when her presence affects you all

Once the two of you are comfortably friends, you don’t hesitate to talk Fade’s ear off about Gothic architecture (she secretly loves it)

Though she seems really reserved, she’ll always do what she can to make you feel more comfortable, such as setting a mug of tea out for you in advance so you don’t have to ask

If the two of you go out, she’s the meme “they ASKED for no pickles”

Fade definitely has one or more cats and the two of you could hang out and the only activity be sitting in silence and playing with them

If you’re into video games, you would love playing Bloodborne and showing Fade all the lore bits. She would comment on what parts of the eldritch plane they got right or not, but finds it all really interesting regardless

You always have the best conversations with her, particularly at 2am and on

Neon

Neon is a very social person, she loves hanging out with the others in the protocol, whether it be to dim sum or karaoke, she’s always game

When she’s not in a group, she’s definitely less energetic/ reduces the tough exterior that she puts on when she’s in the zone

But she’s obviously the more extroverted between the two of you and loves dragging you out and pushing your comfort zone

At the same time, she would never want to make you uncomfortable and really just wants to spend time with you

Like Jett, she loves hanging out to eat food, whether from a casual food truck or sit down (she’d also use the opportunity to take the pressure of talking off of you)

When you finally get comfortable enough to talk about your interests, she’s happy to sit and listen (though she’ll ask endless questions if you let her)

Neon is like an excitement feedback loop, if you’re enthusiastic about something, she’ll double that energy back

While she doesn’t really struggle with the “wondering why people want to hang out around her”, if the two of you grow closer and if anything happened to you from her powers, she would take the responsibility very heavily

She could definitely overthink things in her head, working over her thoughts in her head way too much

She would appreciate talking it out, especially because she knows how much effort it can be for you to speak up about your own feelings

Neon also loves sharing new music with you. She’d definitely make a playlist for you and would be very touched if you sent her music

Also is not above flexing by taking you to an arcade to play DDR (though she has accidentally fried DDR machines before)

[mountswhore]

hey! see u were taking requests so i wanted one with mason related to "london boy" by taylor swift? maybe reader is a singer or something like that?

one of the best taylor swift songs imo, so of course!

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 — mason mount

summary: mason shows you around london during your break, and now you don't think you can ever go back

notes: requests are open again! my asks are open.

Leaving your hometown in New York to visit the world was one of the hardest things you had to do. But you had your dream job, now it was time to follow it. Your recent album was a success, pouring your heart into it as you recovered from your breakup. Your fans had watched your relationship build, and then break apart. Hearing your side of things through 14 songs. Awards, interviews, and traction had come from it, earning you a world tour. It was a scary thing to do, considering it was your first international tour.

“I just want to come back to New York already, I’ve not been on this tour long.” You complained to your sister, curled up in a hotel bed in London. Your first destination was the UK, and there was nothing worse than being homesick.

“Quit being a baby, the UK is so nice.” Your sister replied, chuckling shortly afterwards. “Me and dad visited Manchester, I think? Very nice looking, at least where we stayed.” You sighed, knowing that didn’t make it any easier. You loved your cosy apartment in New York, you were even starting to miss the constant traffic sounds and arguing in the early hours of the morning.

“I guess, and I know London is nice, at least. I think I’m gonna interact with some fans,” you decided, pulling the duvet further up your body, “speak tomorrow at sound check.” You ended the call, liking some tweets and replying to a few things, eventually tweeting something of your own.

“Happy to see a lot of my UK fans tomorrow, can’t wait to scream my feelings out with you,” Declan read out, giving Mason a cheeky look. The pair of them were in Mason’s living room, enjoying their evening of FIFA. The boys had spoken about you plenty of times, in interviews too, Mason declaring you as his celebrity crush.

“Shut up already, she probably doesn’t even know who I am.” Mason stated, resting his arm over his eyes to conceal the blush on his face. Him, Declan and a few other boys were going to your concert tomorrow night, some of the WAGs suggested it as they loved your music.

“You think she’s not going to notice a blue tick in her dm’s? It’s worth a shot.” Declan encouraged his friend to shoot his shot, close to grabbing his phone and doing it himself, but instead he was watching Mason bashfully scroll through your twitter replies. “Do it, or I will.”

Mason sighed, clicking the reply button and typing out a reply, handing the phone to Declan to review. ‘Can’t wait, wanna see you.’

“Perfect,” Declan mumbled, pressing the reply button for him. He knew Mason never would, he just saved him 20 minutes of back and forth debate. Handing Mason his phone back, Declan smirked as he watched his friend's face change from fairly embarrassed, to shocked.

“There’s no fucking way you sent that.” Mason remarked, refreshing his phone to see his tweet attract likes. “You dick.”

Declan just laughed as Mason had turned completely red, watching the likes and replies collect under his tweet. Moments later, you’d appeared in his dm’s.

‘I recognise you.’

It was an ominous message from you, one that had you pacing and replaying the creepy message over and over again. But Mason smiled at the message, all ounces of worry leaving his body as he replied to you.

‘Oh yeah? From where?’

‘Actually, I think I recognise your teammate, Pulisic. He’s all my brother talks about sometimes. But all I know is that he plays for a soccer team.’

He laughed at your reply, Declan watching over in pure disbelief.

‘You have a lot to learn about the UK, and luckily I know all about it.’

‘I’ll hold you to that, come backstage after the show, bring whoever you’re with. I’m in London for the next few days before my next show, maybe you can show me around.’

“There’s no way you’re flirting with Y/N Y/L/N within two minutes of replying to her tweet.” Declan stated, Mason smirking at his best friend before sending another reply.

‘Bet.'

Your show was now over and you were anxiously waiting for the boys to be escorted back stage. You didn't know much about football, especially over here, but you knew the boys that were coming back stage were professionals. You'd learnt their names, Declan, Jack, and Mason. Jack and Declan brought their girlfriends along, but Mason was 'painfully single', as he put it.

Finally, as you sat down in your chair to relax, you heard a knock at the door. It was them. They had all filed in, the two girls in shock that they were meeting you. You'd given them all a hug, and gotten to Mason. He looked down at you as you pulled him in, squeezing you tightly before letting you go again.

"Did you guys enjoy it?" You asked, ushering them to the couch for them to sit down. You wanted them to feel as comfortable as possible, rushing over to your dressing room fridge and pulling out some drinks.

"It was amazing," Sasha gawked, still in awe over seeing you for the first time, "we saw you have one in Birmingham in a few weeks, so we're going to that one too." You blushed, returning to your seat opposite the couch.

"That's so sweet! I'm sure I can get you some good tickets, I'll dm you on Instagram or something." You suggested to her, Sasha eagerly nodding her head. You conversed with the group of five, Mason giving you a particular look that you had mirrored back to him. You planned on getting his number, and making sure he showed you around London.

Soon enough, the group was heading back to wherever they were staying, as it was beginning to get quite late. "Thank you guys for coming, and I'm so glad I met you."

Mason stayed behind, folding his arms and sharing a smirk with you as his friends voices trailed down the hallway. "So, about this bet."

"Yeah," you replied casually, grabbing your water bottle from the table and taking a sip, being in the presence of an attractive man again was giving you quite the nerves, "I'll take your number, because I'd love to get to know London." He nodded, grabbing his phone from his jacket pocket and handing it to you.

"Perfect. See you."

You and Mason had planned your first meeting in a pub. It wasn't the classiest of places, but your plan was to get to know the UK. Mason had ordered you both a drink, guessing what you like and nailing it when you went in for a second sip and shoved a thumb up.

"So," he began, fiddling with the coaster his beer sat on, "how long are you in London for?"

"Just until Thursday, Friday morning I'm heading to Manchester." You stated, realising you only had four days with Mason, including today.

"Well, we better make the days count then." Mason declared. The pair of you spoke about his career as well as yours, talking about how different school was for the pair of you. Mason had stood up, holding his hand out for you to take, and you'd accepted it without complaint. He led you out of the pub and through the town center, gazing at the stalls set up around you. The weather wasn't so different to New York, both constantly dreary, but you were liking London so far.

On your second day together, you'd taken a cab to another town, this time to just experience the busy streets. To Mason, this was normal. For you, it was only familiar. New York was one of the busiest cities in the world, but London was different, better in every other way. You'd finished your day together, stomachs full of pub food, and in the back of a cab, rain pattering on the windows. You'd shuffled closer to Mason, placing your hand on his and squeezing. He looked at you briefly, smiling his usual smile, before quickly looking out at the street in an effort to hide his tinged cheeks.

Day three, the weather was too bad to do anything. But Mason kept you company in your hotel room. He'd taught you a bunch of British slang, laughing as your accent completely butchered them all. You'd shown him a snippet of your new song before room service had arrived. And the night ended with the pair of you collapsed in your bed, tv playing in the back ground, but your eyes on each other. It was like pure magic, the long-awaited feeling of his lips on yours. You'd been thinking about it all day, missing every opportunity until now.

Your final day was the worst. You both knew it was coming, you wouldn't see him until you had a break, and he had one too. You both had stupidly busy schedules, as well as living in different countries. Maybe one day you could bring him to New York, show him your side of life. And maybe one day you'll branch out and move here.

Mason had helped you carry your things out of your hotel room, which was taking you to Manchester. Your manager had texted you to be in the car before 3, which meant you had just 10 minutes until you had to say goodbye to Mason for a while.

You were stood in the foyer of the hotel, waiting for the car to arrive. You'd secretly hoped it didn't, you wanted to stay with Mason for a while longer, but you couldn't. Duty called.

"Thank you for showing me around London," you spoke, looking up at Mason, who was hiding his deflated feelings, "I really enjoyed it, I might even prefer it to New York."

"That's a given. I'm here." He joked, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. These four days had been immense fun for him, different to how he usually spent his days. Different than night at home alone, different than a night on the town. Was it too soon to say he missed you?

Mason looked down at you as you clung to his side, hoping he felt the same way you did. And he did, you just didn’t know that. His fingers slid across your jaw slowly, pulling your chin up to look at him. It was an intense moment, so many different emotions. He’d leaned in and kissed you, it was his parting gift. To say that he’d see you soon enough.

“Enjoy Manchester, I’m sure I can fit another show in somehow.” Mason spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” You spoke, the car pulling up outside. He’d dragged your suitcases out to the car, popping them in the boot for you. Finally, he stared at you through the window, which you quickly rolled down. “I fancy you, is that the right term?”

Mason laughed, head tipping back slightly. “Yeah, it is. And I fancy you too.”

[wanderinginksplot]

Riye (A Favor) - Alpha-17/f!Reader fic

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Third installment of my Alpha-17/fem!reader fic!

Word-Count: 3,100

Warnings: aggressive flirtation, Alpha is rude.

---

You carefully straightened the neckline of your shirt, eyes on the refresher mirror. It might be silly, but today marked a full month since you had come to Kamino, and you wanted to look your best.

Your outfit had survived the morning, despite a meeting with several Kaminoans who wanted updates on your progress. You had been able to deliver good news - that you were right on schedule - but a sense of doubt overshadowed any triumph you might have felt. The first deadline had been met, but the next one promised to step up the workload, and you were already feeling overwhelmed at the idea.

Still, you were determined to push the negativity out of your mind. You would figure out a better schedule to complete the work later. Today was a celebration.

The bad thing about taking more care with your appearance was that it attracted more attention than usual from the cadets. You had politely turned away two different groups of young men by the time Alpha was due to arrive in the cafeteria. Another cadet - alone, this time - was doing his best to keep from being dismissed as well.

"Was it raining when you came in, ma’am?" he asked, leaning over you. "I have flight drills after this and it gets even more dangerous in the rain."

You did your best not to smile at the obvious way he was hinting about being a pilot. "You know, I think it was raining the last time I was near a window," you told him, voice grave.

"Then I'm going to need some luck to survive," he said dramatically, flashing you a smile he clearly hoped would be charming. "I've heard a kiss from a beautiful woman is a good start. What do you think? It might help me survive the afternoon."

"I wouldn't count on it," a dark voice warned.

The cadet stood as straight as possible as Alpha approached. The captain brushed your new pilot friend aside with a twist of his armored shoulders and sat down. He proceeded to start eating, ignoring the cadet completely.

Any other cadet would have backed away, thankful that Alpha hadn't decided to throw them directly into the oceans of Kamino, but this one was more determined than most.

He winked at you from behind Alpha's head. "By the way, my name is-"

"She doesn't want to know your name," Alpha told him. "Get out of here before I decide that I want to know it."

"Very flattering, Captain," the cadet said cheekily. "But Jango's face isn't the one I want to wake up to, yeah?"

Alpha swallowed his mouthful of food and deliberately set his fork aside, standing slowly from the table. He drew up to his full height before turning around. He was taller than the cadet, forcing the younger man to look up.

"Now I'm extremely interested," Alpha said slowly, his slow and methodical voice dripping with menace. "What's your designation?"

Behind him, you winced. You hated how glaringly obvious it was that the Kaminoans considered these men products. Also, this cadet might die in front of you and that would almost certainly ruin your ability to eat in the cafeteria anymore.

"CT-7115," the cadet said with a grin.

"Ah, part of Zackra Trem's group." Alpha raised his comlink. "Trem."

"Alpha," a female voice returned immediately.

"I've got one of your pilot cadets here in the cafeteria. 7115."

"Broadside," Trem said, clearly recognizing the number. "He's one of my best, Alpha. Don't break him too badly."

"No promises," Alpha replied, turning slightly back toward Broadside. Since you were seated directly behind Alpha, you couldn't see his expression yourself, but it was enough to make Broadside's grin slip for the first time.

"I'll make you a deal," Trem offered. "I'll give him hell here and then send him back to you tonight. I'm sure he could help you demonstrate something unpleasant to your ARCs."

Alpha considered that for a long moment while Broadside shifted uncomfortably. Eventually, he conceded, "That works."

Trem laughed. "Do I even wanna know what he did to you?"

"Harassed an uninterested female."

The laughter emanating from the comlink's speakers cut off abruptly. "In that case, I think we should coordinate punishments. I'll be in touch, Captain."

The transmission cut off suddenly and Alpha looked at Broadside once more. "You had best get to your training, son."

Broadside, looking suddenly concerned, nodded and hurried away. “What was that?” you asked quietly when Alpha had sat down across from you once more.

“I told his superior officer about his behavior.”

“What more than that?” you pressed.

Alpha grinned suddenly, and it was half a snarl. “It just so happens that his superior officer is Zackra Trem. It’s not my story to tell, but she’s got more reason than most to hate that kind of osik behavior.”

You could very well guess the rest of that story. Your heart twisted for Trem, though you had never met her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Nice, but she wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment,” Alpha told you, not unkindly. “Feel sorry for your little pilot. She’s a Weequay who ran with Mandalorians for the past few decades. Whatever she makes him do, it won’t be pleasant.”

You chuckled at that, trying not to actually feel sorry for Broadside. In the time you had been hanging around Alpha, most of the cadets had eased up a bit on flirting, but every now and then, someone crossed the line.

Alpha picked his fork up again and shot you an intense look. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Though your immediate instinct was to be embarrassed about being overdressed, even mildly, you rolled your eyes at him. “Anything looks like too much when everyone else wears uniforms all of the time. Remember that day I wore a necklace?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Alpha said, snorting. “A necklace. What are you, a Senator?”

“Your ideas of fancy clothing are extremely skewed, I hope you know that,” you told him, adjusting your collar again.

“Hazards of the job,” Alpha replied with a casual shrug as he returned his focus to his food. “Looks okay, though.”

You paused, staring openly at him. Had Alpha just complimented you? Surely not… The universe wouldn’t survive such unexpected behavior, not without signs that space was collapsing in on itself.

Alpha noticed you watching him and lifted an eyebrow in question while he chewed. You just shook your head and applied yourself to your own lunch, avoiding his curious eyes. Explaining your thought process there would be an intensive effort, especially if your goal was to keep him from being uncomfortable.

Fortunately, avoiding Alpha’s eyes let you notice the approaching cadet sooner than your companion did, and you had time to brace yourself before the young man - even younger than you were used to seeing - opened his mouth.

“Excuse me-”

“Kriff,” Alpha said loudly, dark brows crashing down over his eyes. “Go away, kid. I’ve already ruined one cadet’s day and I have no problem adding to the list. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“N-no, sir, of course not,” the cadet told him, nodding respectfully at you as he went on. “I wanted to talk to you. Is it true you served with General Kenobi?”

"What?" Alpha asked, sounding uncertain for the first time since you had met him. You quirked your brows, unsure of whether to be amused or concerned.

"General Kenobi," the cadet repeated. "And General Skywalker, too! I heard you went on a mission with both of them. What was it like?"

"Look, kid, I don't have time to answer all your questions about Jedi-"

"That's fine!" the cadet told him. "I already know everything there is to know about the Jedi. I want to know more about your experience, specifically."

The muscles in Alpha's jaw flexed and you quickly interrupted. "What's your name?"

"Dogma, ma'am," the cadet told you, making an apologetic face. "I know names are against regulations, but my batchers won't stop calling me that. My designation is CT-4287."

“Nice to meet you, Dogma,” you said politely.

Dogma's cheeks darkened and he gave a tight nod. "You too, ma'am."

"Stop flirting with the poor boy," Alpha chided and you gaped at the captain. So much for trying to help him.

"Dogma, I'm sure Captain Alpha would love to answer any question you have," you told the young cadet, grinning triumphantly at Alpha.

"Wait," Alpha ordered, catching at your wrist before you could stand up. His hand was ridiculously huge and you found yourself shackled by his gentle grip. "You haven't finished eating."

You grinned wider at him, slipping your wrist out from between his fingers. "I'll take it with me. Have fun, you two!"

Dogma gave a half-hearted wave while Alpha glared.

---

The rest of the afternoon was spent locked away in your office, working on the second major project you had to complete. Your concerns about the deadline were unfortunately proving correct. The icy grip of stress and fear were squeezing your heart, and you were honestly relieved when someone knocked on the door of your office.

“One moment!” you called to the unseen visitor, but they didn’t seem to hear you. Instead, they continued to pound on the door until you opened it. You were unsurprised to see Alpha on the other side, glowering down at you.

“You’re mean for a nat-born,” he grumbled, brushing you aside as he pushed into the office.

After letting the door slide closed once more, you followed him over to your desk and plopped down in your chair. Rather than sit in one of the chairs opposite you, Alpha leaned his hip against the side of your desk, much closer than you were comfortable with.

In a show of belligerence, you crossed your arms and lifted your chin as you replied, “Serves you right for being rude about my outfit.”

“I didn’t say anything bad about your clothes!” Alpha denied, befuddled.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t say anything nice about them, either,” you argued childishly, conveniently forgetting his half-compliment at lunch.

Alpha frowned. “You want me to… talk about clothing with you?”

Well. Put that way, it did sound a little silly. Of all of the things you were sure Alpha did well, deep discussions about fashion might be beyond him. Honestly, they might be beyond you, too. You sighed. “No, I don’t want you to talk about clothing with me, but I was trying to look nice today. I put a lot of effort into this.”

“I don’t understand why,” Alpha said. “You look… fine… every other day.”

“Fine,” you repeated dryly. “Thanks, I was going for fine.”

“I don’t understand what I did wrong.” You were able to hear the growing frustration in his voice. “What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe don’t act like I’m wearing a ballgown to work if I show up wearing a necklace!”

“What is a ballgown?”

You stared at Alpha, the simple question making your brain screech to a halt. It was like a chasm had opened between you, and it made you reconsider a few things. Since you had arrived on Kamino, you had treated the clone troopers as if they were people you might meet out in the galaxy, but that wasn’t exactly true. You still believed that they were people - of course you did - but you were only just coming to realize how different they were from anyone you had ever met. While the troopers shared their own experiences on Kamino and had been trained to be perfect soldiers by the time they shipped out, they were startlingly young by the standards of the rest of the galaxy.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter.” You fiddled with one of the many datapads littering your desk rather than meet Alpha’s intense gaze. “I am sorry for siccing Dogma on you, though.”

“You should be,” he growled. “He asked ten questions before I could shake him off. Ten!”

“Wow, that’s what? Five days worth of questions?” you teased.

“Five days for you,” Alpha told you seriously. “For anyone else, that’s more than I would ever answer.”

You were unreasonably touched by the reminder that Alpha let you learn things about him that no one else would ever know. Moved by a sudden surge of warmth for the ARC captain, you repeated your prior sentiment, but more fervently. “In that case, I honestly apologize for unleashing Dogma. If there’s anything I can do to make him back off, please let me know.”

Alpha’s stare was level and unwavering. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” you agreed immediately, not understanding what a wildly stupid idea that was. That was fine - you would learn… and it didn’t take long.

That night at dinner, Alpha came in and sat across from you, but instead of starting the meal in silence, he leaned across the table slightly to get your attention. Lowly, he asked, “Are you still willing to help me with Dogma?”

“Yes,” you agreed simply. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yeah. Flirt with me.”

You fought not to react visibly to that. Carefully keeping your face blank and your voice flat, you replied, “What.”

He leaned even closer, eyes lit with excitement. “I’ve been threatening and trying to alienate Dogma all day, but the only time he was uncomfortable was when you flirted with him.”

“I didn’t flirt with him!” you reminded him. “I just said it was nice to meet him.”

“Fine,” Alpha conceded. “We’ll just have to do better than that if we’re going to convince him to leave me alone.”

Abruptly feeling like this was the worst idea anyone had ever had, you tried to speak in your own defense. “Alpha, I don’t think this is a good idea-”

“You said you would help me,” he reminded firmly. “He’ll be here in a minute. I need your answer.”

Your heart was pounding, one of many warnings that this was a bad idea, but you nodded anyway. Alpha smiled - he actually smiled - and the expression looked menacing on his face. “Good.”

In a moment, he had circled the table to sit beside you, his huge frame making you feel ridiculously tiny in comparison. He wasn't wearing any armor at all now, and you could feel the heat of his skin through what little space there was between you.

You tried not to obviously tense as he spoke next to your ear. "There he is, get ready."

Impossibly, Alpha managed to get closer to you, tugging behind your knee slightly so that you were angled toward him. When he had finished posing you, Alpha’s large hand lifted to cradle your face. His fingers brushed over your cheekbone before trailing down to your jaw.

"My little neverd," he murmured to you, face filled with affection.

You didn't have to feign embarrassment at the warmth in his tone matched with the intense eye contact he was giving you. When you replied, you tried not to sound squeaky but only managed to sound shaky instead. "You know Mando'a is my weakness."

He laughed, a low chuckle that sent delicious chills running over your skin. “Why do you think I use it?”

“Alpha…” you chided, managing to sound mildly flirtatious.

“Come on, little one,” he urged you, voice velvet in a way you hadn’t known it could be. “Let’s go back to your- Ah, one moment, neverd. Dogma, sit down.”

You looked over to see Dogma standing at the other side of the table. You had never even noticed, your entire focus narrowed down to Alpha. Dogma looked as embarrassed as you felt. While you were focused on Dogma, Alpha’s arm snaked around you, pressing against your waist to pull you flush against his side. Your face flamed and Dogma glanced away.

“Sir, I- I’m sorry, I forgot I’m on duty tonight,” Dogma muttered, speaking so quickly it was difficult to understand him.

“Sorry to hear that, cadet,” Alpha replied gravely, flexing his fingers against your side. It made you push a little closer to him in reflex, the tip of your nose brushing the space under his jaw as you tried to look up at him. Alpha shivered, and you weren’t sure how much of the motion was acting. “Maybe later.”

Dogma gave an awkward nod and hurried off.

Alpha started laughing even before he let you go, his muscular chest shaking against your shoulder. After a moment that felt like it had stretched an hour, he pulled his arm back and slid away a bit. You immediately felt the loss of his closeness and suddenly you were horribly uncertain of what expression you were wearing. Just in case it said more than you wanted it to, you looked back at the entrance of the cafeteria.

“I feel bad,” you admitted.

"Don't," Alpha advised, looking toward the door as well. “He’ll be fine. He’s a good soldier, just a little…”

He trailed off, apparently content to let his thought stay incomplete. You glanced over to him with an eyebrow raised, but his eyes were fixed on the door. “You can see every access point in the room from here.”

“That is why I chose this spot,” you agreed.

“Switch with me tomorrow.”

“Not a chance,” you refused. “This is my spot.”

“Then I hope you like sitting next to me,” Alpha told you. Surprised, you laughed up at him and he met your eyes. “You know, I’ve never seen anyone blush on cue.”

“Hidden talent,” you explained vaguely. Alpha didn’t seem convinced, so you changed the subject. “What does neverd mean?”

“Civilian.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself. “Civilian? That’s what you used as a term of endearment?”

Alpha blinked blankly at you. “What’s wrong with it? You are a civilian.”

“Yes, but,” you thought over it for a second, “-it’s not very romantic. Usually, people say things like ‘dear’ or ‘sweetheart’.”

“How should I have known that?” Alpha asked.

It was the ballgown situation all over again, and more than you were willing to tackle that day. “Well, some warning before you want me to go undercover would be helpful.”

Alpha snorted. “How much warning do you need?”

You pretended to consider that for a moment. “Two business days, minimum.”

He frowned fiercely. “If you get two full days of warning, I expect more. I need you to show up in a disguise with three different accents ready.”

“Harsh terms,” you told him with a smile. “With those negotiation skills, you’d make a great senator."

Alpha gave you the darkest scowl you had ever seen him muster. “Watch it, neverd.”

Idly, you wondered if Alpha would protect you from himself, but the amused glimmer in his dark eyes told you it would be unnecessary.

---

A/N - Pretty sure Broadside is wildly OOC, my bad. Also, sorry for the weird image for this chapter. I didn't really want the text bubbles in there, but I needed to keep Alpha's sassy hip lean.

Taglist - @imabeautifulbutterfly @cagrame @mysticalturtleenthusiast @marvel-starwars-nerd @lackofhonor

[sugar-petals]

sub!Yuzu | nsfw alphabet

🌹 NOTE ⇢ content for our fave figure skater, the legend himself. mr. yuzuru hanyu is 1000% dom candy and i’m here to honor it at length ⛸

— WORDS. 5k

tags + warnings. dom/sub dynamics, femdom!reader, role reversal hc, smut, kinks, cum play, spanking, sex toys, very freaky yuzu, kitten play, mdlb, crying kink, food play, prostate orgasms, bondage, some deeper stuff & angsty bits, asthma mention, aftercare

  A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Once the cat ears come off, who is Yuzuru Hanyu not to remain in character for a while. For the shits and giggles, and because it’s cozy. Once a catboy, always a catboy, it’s the law of the land. Curling up, kneading at you for the head pats and massages, you know the programme. 

Also: Yuzu is famously soft-spoken and always finds the right thing to say. So, stimulating conversation for the cooldown. This is literally so nice. He’s unafraid to reflect everything in detail, say what he preferred, what you could change up together, what he wants to try next. The afterglow is not just physical, as in you give him something to drink, it’s 70% verbal which is very important to him as a consistent habit.

Of course, not to forget: Always gotta have a Winnie Pooh plushie ready. He embraces it readily and, as we know him, does some roleplay right then and there. Yuzu, professional cutiepie he is, is the kinda sub who treats all plush and pillow stuff as alive and breathing. You as his domme are in on the play and also treat his things as holy as they are to him. That Yuzu lets you into that world is the biggest compliment you can possibly get. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

We all know Yuzu’s godly ass and thighs. Or the staggering waist and beautiful black hair that makes him a total bombshell in his classic comb-back styles. His face is soft and expressive and so damn unique, his legs muscular and long, his back and tummy chiseled, the list goes on and on. Jesus, he has so many great features. All body parts a masterpiece. That are all capable of god-tier contortionism on top of that, gotta mention it in passing. Just so you know if you haven’t seen him bend his every limb into directions you wouldn’t believe are humanly possible. 

Interestingly though. If he chooses, Yuzu picks his feet: They are his most important instrument and weak spot. His ankles are where the magic happens. So, you taking care of them a little would mean the world to him, imagine a candle light massage. Not to worry, no-gross-alert. Yuzu has perfect and cute feet. That’s gonna be a Victorian moment, oh my god I saw his ankles. For his partner, short and simple: He likes a shoulder to lean on. He loves being touchy in general, all body parts are amazing to him. Being in a profession that’s all about the physics, Yuzuru knows about the wonders of the body.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Certified king of cumsluts, doesn’t even hesitate. The more, the merrier. If he’s not covered in sticky stuff, Yuzu would be underchallenged. It’s less about the taste, texture or any degradation, for him it’s the playing around with his tongue. Somebody wants his mouth preoccupied. Give the cat his milk. Feed him his own cum mixed with yours. He’s gonna lap at it and swallow.

Since Yuzu’s dream is a mommy domme baking him something, he just loves the smell of dough and hazelnuts and cinnamon and everything — you know what’s coming: Imagine the food play. Nuts indeed. Anything that even remotely looks like a creampie is something he wants to get his lips on. And Yuzu is not the type to be a foodie at all, let that sink in. Sexual-looking food is just too big a temptation, though. And you spoiling him that way... oh my. Surefire way to end up in bed right after. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has a butt plug collection. Once almost went on the ice with one in. The more you know. Also— this guy is the kinda type fantasizing to get absolutely railed on a bed of plushies. He has troubles suggesting it to you because he doesn’t want them to get actually dirty. But the idea gets the two of you kind of horny. Sometimes, a thought is better as a fantasy than actually executing it. You can use it for riling up’s sake, whispering it to him during dirty talk. How you’ll bounce on him and ruin him and milk him while he’s splayed out so innocently on your bed. I smell corruption kink. 

Another secret Yuzu keeps is just how much he changed his mind about wanting his partner to control everything in bed. He grew up with a pre-defined ideal type of a cute, nice skater girl who’d let the reins very loosely around him, who he can speak Japanese to because he had problems with English, who is small and someone he will protect. It wasn’t something based on experience and trying things out: It was simply expected of him. People wanted the domineering Yuzuru on ice to be that way in private, and make use of his power, be a man, savior, boss. 

The reality being: He never felt truly as tough on the ice, nor was he gender-conforming in person. In fact, that is what he became famous for, and it reassured Yuzuru very often how people would accept and actually celebrate this side of him. Which is so refreshing, and a sight to see. The side that was dorky, clingy, childish, gorgeous, and cute has always been there, but now he embraces it more as his comfort place. He has to know what he’s doing in his skating programme and show competitive spirit to achieve his dreams, but that’s where it stops.

His former ideals are something people wanted to hear, it was an adaptation of the environment rather than thinking it through on his own. So, years later — oh boy have things changed. Yuzuru no longer defines his ideal type that way, saying whoever he likes is someone he’d be with. What was a fantasy template and filter is now gone and adapted to his newfound, own preferences. Yuzu is comfortably open-minded rather than being a copy to mainstream. He found fun in speaking English, opened up to the world at large, had more girls around him who he could befriend, grew more confident in his stature, and is well aware — turns out he’s the cute one. Who needs to be taken under a wing. He likes strong-minded girls and says if he had a wife, she’d dominate him. Yuzuru secretly wants her to be in charge entirely, she owns his body and soul. Not in daily life where things are just normal and everyone goes about their business. Sexually, where he surrenders instead, and is taken care of.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The tale of an introvert. What he knows — he hides it well. Has eyefucked a whole lot of people and is the type to lust like mad from a far distance, and nobody will ever know. Crushes harder than peppercorns in a mill. If he loves someone, it lingers in his mind every split second of the day, may god have mercy on him. And if you know him: Yuzu aims too high to keep it light and easy and clumsy. He hates being an amateur, he’s terrified of starting out something. He dreads not knowing what to do, how exactly to behave, talk, touch, breathe, respond, negotiate, prepare. That’s a hundred percent like hell to him.

Ironically, he has a natural feeling for it and he’s literally amazing in bed, has a sense for social interaction is all the way cute with something valuable to say. But what he believes is something way different. Yuzuru is a diehard, nervous perfectionist. He can only think of it as a rated performance since his mind usually has to work that way to skate well. His esteem is on a knife edge depending on how well he thinks he does. So, the inevitable: He will shy away from sex altogether. He draws immense skating passion from staying celibate, in fact it’s his success secret, but it still eats him up from the inside and makes him frustrated beyond measure. Not even for the pleasure, since he’s so ambitious that’s almost forgotten about, but for being told he did well. 

That’s how much he believes sex is a drill and capability test. And it’s sad that he thinks it’s like his skating career, racking up points for the impossible things judges want and being in a deadlock when it comes to showing his artistic side. He feels thrown into cold water if he doesn’t know everything beforehand. If he ever works up the courage, which probably won’t happen, he will pay an expert to learn from rather than let something all over the place happen with a random person or even someone he might like. 

Yes, you heard that right. He’d rather see a sex worker than ‘mess up’ his first time according to his sky-high standards. So, Yuzu’s experience remains limited since he’s so 100% do or die, and so anxious, and so torn about social interaction, he doesn’t get how his peers can be playboys and get married and flirt with someone they like and all that. He sort of has an easier time with guys, but girls... he can’t approach. To top it off, he also feels like he’d burden his first time one somebody or embarrasses himself, so he will reject and avoid suitors. Those are usually not the people he crushes so hard on to begin with. It’s bound to be one-sided and he knows, so he will abstain and focus on career and use the cheers of his fans as a substitute.

Truth is, he feels helpless and distant from sex sometimes, especially with his practice-heavy lifestyle and hyper-smart mind, Yuzuru has an intelligence that exceeds what most people can grasp. He’s alone on the ice and Brian as a coach is often the only reference person who truly gets him, and leads him well without being controlling. But that’s professional life. Sexually, Yuzuru is metaphorically: coachless. He surely observed it well when Javier (the #1 ladies man, his opposite) was still active and a social butterfly helping him fit in, but Yuzu would always be worried about his extreme fame and spotless image when introduced to someone fangirling over him. He’d rather prefer someone who comes across as a mentor and solid, loyal-to-death person to look up to. So he would do anything to have someone benevolent like that. Most girls would expect him to be the sex god and expert, but he knows that’s only half of the story and based on his characters on the ice. Yuzu crafts these to counterbalance how he really is — withdrawn and indirect. 

Yuzu is extremely calculating and selective, he scans suitors well, protects his reputation, and is mortified of failure. So, he’d rather learn it by the book and from someone he’s not emotionally attached to. In a one-night stand that might also be the case, but he doesn’t know what to expect, and he’s absolutely terrified of sudden sexual vulnerability. He himself often says he values his own struggle between feeling so weak and being strong again 

Besides: He’d have problems squeezing hookups into his schedule and lifestyle, he’d have to cut down on things and create a double life. Plus, Yuzu is famously inept with social interaction up close, he flees the noise and unpredictability. So, it’s better to have a long-term partner. If he doesn’t know something yet, he has it down in one day like the single axel. Definitely counts on his partner teaching him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

We know Yuzu’s signature move is the lean-back Ina Bauer. So, whatever position allows for an arch is the real deal (cough, taking the strap — oh my god his ass is made for it). But anyway, he can pull off anything with that stellar flexibility and core strength. 

If I think about it. Yuzu might like sitting on your lap very much. I know it’s not a sex position, I mean it can be once his inner lapdancer awakens or you use a strap-on, I rather mean... just for some sweet moments and making out. But yeah: Fathom Yuzu gyrating on your like that. Not in an outright lascivious manner or Chippendales style. The Hanyu way, with embellishments and all the grace. This is gonna be a huge turn-on and perfect foreplay position.  

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not much to elaborate here: Yep, Yuzu is true goofball indeed. Really flustered and clumsy when eye-to-eye in missionary, and yet: He’s ultra serious towards the end, there’s gonna be an aggressive staredown before cumming. The feeling gets pretty intense, his duality between silly and ‘yeah, give it to me’ is no joke.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Would probably die from inflammation if he shaved clean under those tight suits and did all these chafe-heavy skating routines. Doesn’t have a lot of body hair to begin with, but for pits and pubes, it’s alive, wild, and decently long. Out of all people, Yuzu cares particularly about aesthetics, but in this case pragmatism will prevail. He doesn’t care too much about it either as long as it doesn’t get in the way of something. Having sex with Yuzu tends to be well um well all about a hundred types of friction so any stubble would be a bad idea.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You haven’t seen a guy in love like that. It’s a figure skater thing for sure. Since he works to portray these sentiments on the ice daily, hardly anybody can play up feelings so delicately and palpably like Yuzuru. Emotion is what his entire career is built on. He knows how to express himself directly, appropriately, intimately. Couldn’t be any more romantic. Yuzu can’t go without it. 

Very passionate, ‘for your eyes only’ kind of atmosphere. Yes, he shows off on the ice, it’s his job (although of course, that word doesn’t really sum up what skating means to him). But private Yuzu is someone you can claim as yours. He will make it clear, he wants to belong to you, he’s yours, dedicated, devotion is the entire point. Less with a slant of what some subs like, very hands-on ownership of a mistress. It’s more emotional. He’s really attached and all smitten. Your private little haven is everything to him. 

Talking about little: Yuzu can be quite a pillow prince sometimes. At least when the initiative doesn’t go back and forth as it frequently does, you often alternate with suggestions and ways of tweaking an ongoing play session. You blindfold him or tie his wrists, He might be standard tired from practice or just fascinated to watch you work your magic on him. 

He also likes music to set the tone for intimacy, who’s surprised. Prepare: Yuzu likes dramatic classical music all the way. He’s probably one of the few people who can make it more than ‘classy’ and definitely more than cringe. He selects pieces very well. This is gonna be a practice template to cum together when the music reaches its peak. Makes the whole thing full of adrenaline.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Lots of fun to him. Would beat it 24/7 if the ice wasn’t calling him. Drowns himself in lube. This guy’s me-time is so rated R, Cardi B would be inspired to remix WAP to wet ass penis as an anthem just for him. A dry dick is a ruined day for Yuzuru, as is a session without teasing his prostate in whatever way he currently fancies. Once he tried it, he never went back. The intensity knocking him out is something that Yuzu thinks about all the time. Strokes like a pro, does all these little moans, can do it forever, loves the feeling, chases the high. Adrenaline junkie on the ice? No different with his hand around his cock. 

Will masturbate everywhere in the house and has to really get his head in the game to make sure he won’t ruin any carpets. So, he always has at least two towels with him. In the kitchen, in front of the TV, in the shower, the bed. Watches his fair share of eclectic porn, he gets really desperate. Especially before you started dating, Yuzu would shut himself in until the lotion ran out. Can jack off to something romantic (he starts crying) or something extreme (he loves shocking himself and ). 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Very curious about sadomasochism. Googles a lot of things that make him hard during the day. Often jawdropped by his research, but once he tries things out with you, nothing can really shock him anymore. Absolutely wants to be collared, it’s his biggest fantasy. Another little secret he has, Yuzu is decked out in skating gloves, right. He wishes he could feel you wearing them, or he keeps them on for sex himself, the lacey transparent ones. Looks especially pretty when his wrists are tied so, major photograpy material. Oh yes, Yuzu likes the camera, he can work it. The guy is photogenic in any position and can strike any angle you want. Your phone background is a new Yuzu snapshot every week already, imagine your gallery, 5800 kinky pictures.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I’m gonna say it. The frozen lake out of town, late at night, condoms and lube with you. A quickie that will leave your genitals frozen. Yuzu might get stuck inside you because it’s -15 Celsius. Call that fantasy on ice. Jokes aside: Come on, Yuzu is the biggest ever hermit homebody. The couch will have a bunch of indents after your week-long fucking sessions after he comes home training. Also, at his desk while he does work for university. You ride him, Yuzu studies. Double the ambition. His dick is completely sore. The lake out of town thing might go down, but without sex. Just skating together under the stars, Yuzu doing amazing spins and spirals around you, very very romantic.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Yuzu is a crazed Sagittarius. Have you seen these men? They just want it all. Must be the influence of Jupiter. Zeus was definitely vibing that way. And yes, Yuzu has borderline unhealthy gold medal thinking in bed. He wants to be not just good but damn good with pleasing you. If you don’t have a good time and head home without an orgasm, he’ll consider himself a failure. Yuzu won’t cut himself any slack there. You’d have a hard time changing his ways into something more chill and moderate. Instead, you will see the benefits of rolling with it once you see how improvement fuels him and does make sex really mindblowing.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Couldn’t do things like slapping you, spanking. Yuzu makes for a terrible daddy dom, it’d not suit him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Cum-dripping oral mess, Yuzu is the brave kind. Totally into it, and can’t resist a good blowjob. Will act different afterwards, there’s a lot of erotic tension. “This evening again?” is what those eyes are saying.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Outstanding kinesthetic intelligence. Every inch of his body follows his intent, and yours if you have him take on certain ways of kneeling. Yuzu can do it all, whatever you want. Tantalizing, moderato, overwhelmingly fast. He can take it, he can portray it. And knows the value of a pause like a true connoisseur. Not just when he wants to prevent cumming early, also just because the moment is right. That’s why cockwarming is a staple, as well as you having him wait patiently for kisses. To top it off: If you give him a blowjob, building up the tension by doing nothing is damn effective. The ruined orgasms you’re gonna give him... delicious.

Everything’s gonna have nice transitions as well, no awkward climbing and rolling and tangling limbs. If he gets something from another room that you need, no slouching. The university course as good as the extracurricular activities. Being inconsistent with any subsidiary details? Not in the Hanyu household, he’s keeping it classy. Yuzu feels like if he makes the bridges to new positions even remotely messy, the feeling is killed and it’s as if he’d break character mid-skate. Although he’ll have to practice and refine and test a lot of things because he’s not super experienced and adapting to your own movements is an individualized thing to do, he’s a masterclass of quality, period.

Even when things get fast and heated, nothing feels off. Having that kind of body smartness also means: Yuzu learns by touch, whatever you do. He knows by the way you pull his hair what comes next. How much saliva drips off your tongue when you suck at his neck, he knows how hard you’ll to ravage him in five minutes. This guy observes things you aren’t even conscious of because his physical understanding is just so fine-tuned.

The sense of rhythm, and every skating programme of him will showcase that, unbeatable. Unless his mood is really impacted by something severe, your guy feels it in every bone. He’s an artist, after all, he listens to music all the time. Dissecting rhythms to turn them into movement is what his line of work is all about. The pace will always fit the mood. Everything is precise, but never crude. Instead, the way he moves is dictated by an inherent flow. With little accents that match right with any thrust, like putting his hands on your sides when you’re on top of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hit it Shakira: Whenever, wherever! He seemingly carries an entire condom factory with him. Or, to be more exact: At least three of them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

This one’s a complicated case. Yuzu being reckless on the ice may or may not mirror in your private life. He might need some downtime, so bring out the soft domme stuff. No trial and error stuff, just going through a routine of things you love the most. On the other hand, he always gives it all. This guy’s endurance at your hands is amazing. Advanced kinds of BDSM he will not feel deterred from at all. Rough toys, anal hooks, sounding, whips, why not is Yuzu’s motto. But then again. He has such a confusing mix of innocence and feeling like he’s completely hardcore. You might end up experimenting a lot, but also not daring the leap sometimes because the mood is different. And then rather go for softer hours, where Yuzu will be all shy shy and more bursting with excitement than ever. A good, interesting mix is what I’m saying.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Yuzuru, once he gets a bit of practice to gauge the situation... Viagra on two legs, absolute unexpected powerhouse. You might end up pondering to work out a little and go for a run because this guy is in a consistently outstanding shape to say the least. Olympic athletes are literally hard to fuck with. And since Yuzu is starfishing sometimes (which is very adorable), or he’s in bondage for some time, that presents a further problem: For a second round, he’s full of energy, while you already spent energy. So, you alternate with who’s active, and the other leans back entirely. He has to remind himself since his body is programmed for it: This is no contest — the point is feeling good.

You might ride him reverse cowgirl all the way while you watch TV, and after the overstimulation fades he will eat you out ad nauseam, full course slobbering, sweeping the whole menu. That way, it’s less about keeping up with him, which would be hard for most people not doing sports at his galactic level. He understands, Yuzu knows he’s not normal in that regard, you don’t have to worry. Some exercise still doesn’t hurt, just to further increase the quality of sex anyway.

Then again: Why go jogging and do some laps wasting valuable together time when Yuzu’s lap is the best workout? And running doesn’t guarantee your stamina in bed is perfect even if it does help. You rather wanna manage how to draw out the arousal. It’s a self-control thing, with the goal of having you match up in every aspect as good as you can. In which case, you can count on him to pull it off: Have you seen Yuzu doing jumps side by side with a bunch of female skaters? Copy paste. This guy knows how to synchronize with the ladies.

Something that has to be mentioned beside that, though. Yuzu has asthma since 2 years old, and it’s often a mind thing to him still these days. He doesn’t let it stop him from sleeping with you because as always, he’s not letting anything get in his way. He has learned to live and thrive with it. But you both have to mind the possibility of an attack, he prevents it with inhalers, and the mood plays a crucial role. Yuzu being comfortable and confident is so important to his breathing, and keeping a good rhythm rather than being chaotic in bed. So, you will plan most of your sexual activities rather than improvising. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Would stuff an entire sex shop into his every available orifice. Yuzu is a toy freak, he wants to try everything. Motto: a new one every day. Well, almost. But he can afford it. Buys stuff he uses solely on himself, things you use on him, things he uses solo and you use on him, and as the cherry on top, every possible high end vibrator on the market for you. Any size, too. This bitch will browse through the latest innovations, prepare to get off. He’s obsessed with seeing you use it on yourself. Yuzu owns a separate phone just for videos of you buzzing your clit, and him fingering you for minutes and minutes. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Extremely so. Loves to be a total brat only to get put into his place. He does it so you’ll pull the chin grab on him. He likes getting choked out as a punishment as well. Yuzu also tends to be very around the corner if you will when it comes to soft subbing, he lays over expecting cuddles but doesn’t say so. Buds his head against your chest, nuzzles, and so on. Lighter forms of teasing come to him very easily. Loves to prompt. Roughhousing, banter, favorite thing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Moderately loud because his voice is very very light, but unsurprisingly — he’s just beautiful. What a nice tone. Gorgeous whimpering sounds. And when you go hard on him, voice cracks! And really heavy breathing. What’s gonna be the most striking though is his expressiveness. We know it from the ice and interviews, and he can really amp it up even further. No need for screaming, that face will speak the volumes.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You’ll be blessed with him if you have a huge crying kink. Yuzu definitely opens the waterworks every other week in bed. Happy tears, horny tears, relief tears, aftercare tears, orgasm tears, masochist tears, romantic tears, subspace tears, he has it all. He also begs for the type of pain that makes it stream down his face for minutes. He’s touchy-feely all the way and feels like he can really connect with you that way.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His ass twitching is kind of a spectacle, but I don’t have to tell you, do I. Yuzu has muscles for the gods in there. So voluptuous, you can’t call it any other way. Big booty boyfriend, Jesus you can show him off, he loves it. Around the house, he will flaunt them big ole athlete buns in particular, acting like it’s unintended. Um, Yuzu, those are joggings. Smack it, he is sure to moan. 

And may I respectfully mention as well — this guy has some major big ass balls figuratively and literally. How else would someone be motivated to jump a triple axel like it’s nothing. Not kidding, they’re big and round and ugh. His love for tight pants doesn’t help. He knows what your eyes like and dresses just to flex the goods. Screams for more spanking and pinching if you ask me. Yuzu is definitely serving it. Well-endowed, you lucky girl.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Mega horny, ready when you are. On a scale from zero to hundred? Breaching into the 90 percent right there. Yuzu’s hormones are literally insane. On paper he’s 26, but his dick wants the 18th birthday party. Jesus is he gonna be clingy when he’s in the mood. All wrapped around you in a backhug in the kitchen or when you iron a costume of his, and that’s sexy of him. He’s not gonna hide what’s filling out those sweatpants. He’ll desperately grind up against you like it’s Christmas.

Paired with his puppy eyes and little “Do you have some time... I’ll iron this tomorrow” — instant pounce. He’s admittedly a bit hard to keep up with sometimes, though. The reason: With that level of exercise, he has major pent-up energy. That machine is definitely running. Heavy sports changes your hormones, nervous system, and especially blood flow. Now take that to the scale of his performances and regimens? That equals a firework of horny. No wonder he masturbates all the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Takes some time. He cools down, sweats it out, chugs water. However, don’t underestimate how tired Yuzu can already be. His daily routines and competitions have a toll on him. Ironically, he’s not a deep sleeper, however. Yuzu might toss and turn and have sudden energy bursts, or ideas, or gets hungry. So, he needs his plushies, he needs a weighted blanket, warm pajamas, a hot cup of his favorite warm drink, a light snack, and you by his side. Spooning him excessively and sometimes even humming to him. Yuzu looks like a certified angel on his pillow, his well-deserved rest from everything is so important, too.

NOTE - hope i could indulge you, thank you for reading!

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed. depictions fictional.

[slusheeduck]

Time and Circumstance

Another malfunction, this one much harder to fix with his waning divinity. The end was coming soon, he knew. What he didn’t know was whether the Mechanical Heart would be ready in time. Rather than fear, a strange sort of amusement came over him at the thought.

It had been so long since Sotha Sil had been uncertain; the feel of it was rather refreshing.

~

He’d never liked the concept of gods. In his very early childhood, it was in imitation of his sister; how many times had she complained of rules and being told what to do? To him, in the simplicity of a child’s mind, there was no difference in the admonitions of their parents or the Good Daedra. If Nall said they shouldn’t have to listen to adults, then logically, they shouldn’t have to listen to Azura, either.

Later, not much later, it was in fury. If the Good Daedra could stand idly by as Mehrunes Dagon, their kin, laid waste to Ald Sotha for no reason at all, then who were they to dictate the lives of the Chimer…or of anyone at all? Worship, he reasoned that night as he choked on the scent of smoke that clung to him and the screams still echoing in his head, wasn’t only futile; it was an affront to mortality. And if he had his way, he would end it.

~

“What’s happened to you, Seht?” Almalexia asked him once, a few centuries after their apotheosis. “I hear you’ve hidden yourself away.”

“And who did you hear that from?” he asked. It wasn’t a denial, which made it a confirmation. Golden eyes narrowed at him.

“Vivec, of course,” she said. “He worries, you know. He won’t say so, but he does.”

“He still sees me as a soot-covered child.” The words weren’t scathing, they were simply a statement of fact. Of the three, Vehk had, unsurprisingly, always been the most in-tune with his emotion–the heart to Seht’s mind and Ayem’s will. Warrior-Poet that he was, he was drawn to the weakest moments of others–for those he loathed, to find where he needed to drive the knife; for those he loved, to find what he needed to shield. And, of course, tragedy made the best poetry.

“He worries about your fire,” she corrected, her natural inclination to chide still making him bristle a few lifetimes after his childhood rebellion. Nall, he knew, would have hated her for that. Sil liked to think he could see past it, on his better days. “We both wonder what happened to the impassioned leader unafraid to rebuke the Daedra in the name of his people. Where’s the mer who loved mortality so much he became a god?”

He never replied, and, to her credit, Ayem turned their conversation elsewhere. But he knew the answer well enough: that mer had died centuries ago, when he’d received his first prayer.

~

"The old gods are cruel and arbitrary, and distant from the hopes and fears of mer. Your age is past. We are the new gods, born of the flesh, and wise and caring of the needs of our people. Spare us your threats and chiding, inconstant spirit. We are bold and fresh, and will not fear you."

Vivec had a habit of embellishing his accounts, shaping words and memory to make events far grander and more poignant than they actually were. But that quote, that one he got right.

Now, Sil could see the words for what they were: a young man drunk on divine power, finally banishing what he considered the greatest imperfections on the planes of mundus. The cold gods of his youth who turned a blind eye to the destruction of his home, and especially the Prince that feigned warmth in the name of vanity, that tugged one of his dearest friends along and did nothing to help him live.

He’d experimented with the tools for this exact purpose, to give the Chimer the gods they deserved: flawed, broken gods, familiar with grief and rage and joy, who knew what it was like to be mortal because they were mortal. Gods that would listen, because they knew what it was like to go unheard.

He never thought beyond that. He was, after all, very young then.

While the power from the Heart might have been instantaneous, as had Azura’s curse, it still took a generation before the Tribunal, respected as they were, truly became gods in the eyes of their people. That suited them just fine at the time. The three of them used their powers to establish the Dunmer, a race not beholden to cruel gods or an exiled past. A race that had all the world to gain and next to nothing left to lose. They were kind, mindful rulers; Seht in particular utterly devoted to the people themselves, in all their misery and joy.

And then, he heard his first prayer.

It was a simple one, a desperate one–utterly mortal in its plea and delivery. A young girl was terribly ill, and her father prayed to him, Sotha Sil specifically, that she would live.

This was what he’d waited for, the mercy he’d craved for himself and was now desperate to give. And he’d healed plenty of others before. He didn’t even need to go see the girl himself; reality warped at his fingertips, and all of Nirn was open to his will. So, with singular focus, he pushed his power outward.

And stopped.

Two paths fell before him in his mind’s eye, each splintering off to hundreds of possibilities. But they all started with one simple choice: the girl lives, or the girl dies.

The choice was obvious, of course. The girl lives. And the moment he decided, a flash of every possibility appeared before him: famine, misery, abandoned homes and skeletons of guars in the fields. A feeling of absolute certainty that all would come to pass settled on him. He should let her die.

But no, that was ridiculous. One small girl couldn’t cause that much change. And even if she did, he would ensure that none of it came to pass. Reality was his to control, and he would wield it in a way that his people deserved.

And so the girl lived.

The girl living meant an extra mouth to feed. As she grew and married, there were now two mouths. Then three, and four, and five. The boost in population took its toll in the fields; there wasn’t enough to go around. But Sil saw this, and he once again stepped in. At his beck and call, the crops flourished, putting out double, triple the amount of their usual produce; animals bearing twins and triplets. The girl’s village prospered.

But even he couldn’t call up something from nothing. The crops flourishing meant the nutrients in the soil depleted. Soon it could grow no more than the ash surrounding it. The animals were weak from the unnatural circumstance of their birth, and their descendants weaker still. Soon, there was nothing left but dead guar and dried up fields, and the villagers that survived the famine had no choice but to leave. One life saved, but so many others lost. All just as he’d expected.

There, he realized, was proof that he wasn’t a god. He was merely a mortal who had gotten lucky, and his pride had been so great that he disregarded his logic. That, he knew, could never happen again. He would never doubt; certainty would be his curse, but it would serve the Dunmer well. And now he knew that failure was a possibility, but could not be an option.

A shrine to him went up, among the ruins of the village, in the years that followed. After all, Sotha Sil had cured a girl there once.

~

“Are we never to see you again, Seht?” The words were teasing, but in Vivec’s peculiar way, entirely earnest. “I miss your dry remarks, you know, when you disappear for years on end.”

“There’s much to do.” He left it there.

“Such as?” Unlike Almalexia, Vehk wasn’t one to let a conversation go. Sometimes, Sil was grateful for it. Other times, irritated. This time, it was the latter. He didn’t answer, instead focusing on the mechanism he’d been trying to perfect; it’d be easier if his brass hands were steadier, so it’d likely have to wait until he could get them upgraded. But it still served as something to focus on rather than his friend’s two-toned face.

“Is it another barter with the daedra? Or is the great Mainspring Ever-wound still caught up in further perfecting his own perfect world?” A grin split Vivec’s face as Seht finally looked up, a thoroughly unamused expression on his face.

“I hate that name.”

“And yet it fits you so well. Ever-wound, ever-thinking, ever-tinkering.” Vehk rested a cheek in his hand, elbow on his knee as he looked over Seht. He sat the same before the apotheosis, albeit with his crossed legs on the ground rather than floating three feet in the air. “You used to love the messiness of the world, you know.”

“No, I never loved the world. I loved the people,” he corrected, returning to his work.

“Then why not be among them? Ayem and I are present in Dunmeri life. They see us, they know we’re there for them. And in turn, we see them: their triumphs, their failures, their joy and sorrows, their lives.” Vivec’s eyes–one scarlet like his own, one the pale gold he had been born with–traveled over Sil’s face. “You, as I recall, hated the absence of the gods.”

“I did. I still do.” He adjusted a small spring. “But I am not a god. If I’m hated as one, then it only emphasizes the divinity I don’t have.”

“Belief begets divinity.”

“No, hearts of gods and Dwemeri tools beget power that looks like divinity.”

“There’s no poetry in you, Seht.”

“No, there isn’t. I imagine that’s why we have you.”

It’s a fond moment, one that was few and far between lately. As the years dragged on, the Tribunal knew infinitely more about each other than they ever could have before, seen more intimacy with each other than any mortal could hope for, and yet the rift between them always seemed to grow. The longer they were so-called gods, the lonelier it became.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t see the people who love you, who you know love you as a god in spite of what you believe of yourself. Don’t you think that’s denying them a kindness only you can give?” There’s a question within a question; there always was with Vivec. For someone who painted so beautifully with his words, he left so much unsaid. It’d frustrated Sil in his youth; now, it was a language he understood fluently.

Why do you deny me the small kindness of your friendship, Seht?

Sil stayed very quiet; he could feel Vivec’s resignation at not getting an answer–he often didn’t. But this time, he would.

“I do what I must to make the world perfect for them,” he said, voice soft. “Their nature, messy and tragic and destructive as it is, is beautiful, and it’s something that must be protected. The walls of my world must be secure, the defenses must be insurmountable. I cannot rest until it is perfect, and I cannot let anything get in the way of it.”

And you, Vivec, will only get in the way. He spoke Vehk’s language, too.

“And will it ever be as perfect as you dream?”

No, was the correct answer. It would never be, because despite his certainty, despite his power, Sotha Sil was messy and tragic and destructive as well.

“It must be,” is what he said.

~

The first statue of him was erected a century after the Battle of Red Mountain. Many followed, of course, but the first was the one that haunted him. He hadn’t received prayers yet, but many petitions, and an awe-filled silence followed him as he walked through the streets. He hated it, more than he ever thought he would. It was the first of many times he’d consider hiding away.

The statue was meant to be a surprise. Sweet, in its way–devotion to god-like saviors who had delivered them from the daedra and ushered in a new age, in the only way a mortal could fathom to do so. He knew it was coming, and yet he didn’t–it took another half-century or so before he could really sort the constant stream of information that came to him. So, when the three statues of Almsivi were revealed, his shock was, more or less, very real.

Vivec was delighted, as he was wont to be by any grand displays. Almalexia, ever the graceful queen, thanked those present, like a mother would when given a trinket by her child. And Sotha Sil was silent–it was then, he thought, where he first gained his reputation for being mysterious.

It was a faithful likeness, and the craftsmanship was something to behold.The sculptors knew their subject well…except for the face. The stone countenance was animated, near-wild with joy and possibility. One could practically hear the declaration coming from it.

“We are bold and fresh, and will not fear you."

It was the face of a new god.

One day, not long after, the statues of Vivec and Almalexia still stood tall, but Sotha Sil’s had crumbled into a pile of rubble. Some blamed the daedra; others blamed the craftsman for shoddy work. Many vowed that, should the vandal be one of their own, they would be dealt with swiftly.

The culprit was never found. And, strangely, no statue quite like the first could ever be made again.

~

He regretted, some centuries later, that he had never been as friendly with the Dwemer as Nerevar had been. He’d admired their work, but always from afar, and always with the intention of improving it. They weren’t allies, despite Neht’s constant attempts to make them so; they were rivals.

And they still seemed to taunt him, even now, having gone somewhere even he couldn’t suss out. He had questions, and no one to answer them.

Well, then. He would make new answers from what was left behind.

Dwarven ruins, as a whole, were very dangerous places. But near-divine powers kept much of the still-active defenses at bay, and Seht enjoyed the solitude he found there. Gears and cogs and springs were simple; they always made sense, so long as you knew how to put them together. So it was fitting that his new world, his perfect world, would be built from them.

Sometimes–not often, but sometimes–he could practically hear Nerevar’s laugh as he tried to piece together his plan. How many times had he praised his cleverness, had he gladly told everyone that his wisest advisor–his teacher, he would even call him in his fondest moments–was this spindly youth from a forgotten house? And alternately, how many times had Neht warned him that his tendency to overthink, his need to fix and fix and fix would be his undoing?

Sil wondered often, as he crafted his prototypes, what his old friend would think of his grand project. Whether he would be disgusted by such a blatant act of hubris, or whether he would find the attempt noble, no matter whether he succeeded or not.

He never could find an answer to that, either. Nor could he ever craft a new one. Nerevar could never be part of this equation, because if he was, this problem would never exist.

~

Idly, every few centuries or so, Sotha Sil considered ending this charade of his. Never seriously, there was still far too much to do and not enough time to do it. But he couldn’t say the temptation for a bit of peace wasn’t an attractive one.

He wondered, in those same moments, if he even could. Akatosh and Lorkhan both died–in doing so, they gave the world life. What would the suicide of of a creature like him result in?

He came up with different possibilities every time, but one thing was constant: no matter what the result, he was certain that Vehk would be able to make it into quite the poem.

~

Their pilgrimages to the Heart of Lorkhan didn’t used to be an annual affair. In fact, it took several centuries for them to even realize it was necessary to do so.

In the time between the apotheosis and their first pilgrimage, it had to be said that Ayem wore her divinity well. She, it seemed, was born to be a god; she had always sought to be untouchable, and she had leaned into her natural savagery to do so. Now, by virtue of her very being, she could lay down her arms and play into the fantasy she’d always wanted. Away went the Face-Snaked Queen, the warrior-bride of Nerevar; now here was Mother Morrowind, with infinite children she could guide from birth to death. Her ruthlessness never quite went away, but softened into being the ever-scolding parent, who was only harsh because she wanted the best.

For Vehk, on the other hand, his divinity was a curse, though he would never say so–and, possibly, never even considered it as such. But even as a mortal, Vivec had always wanted to be more than he was, had always been unhappy when reminded that he could be no more than Vivec. Now, with his power to craft his reality as easily as his words, he sought after what he so desperately had wanted. He shaped himself as all in equal parts: male and female, Dunmer and Chimer, god and mortal, warrior and poet. And yet, when all was said and done, he could still be no more than Vivec; arguably, he was more Vivec now than he had been as a mortal. No doubt it was an irony he would appreciate, if it wasn’t so close to his heart.

So, when they first felt their power wan–early enough that they were still bound together, but far enough in to have prayers that needed answering–each of the Tribunal reacted as one would expect: Sotha Sil with grim acceptance, Vivec with profound melancholy, and Almalexia with vicious denial. As Seht drew up simulations and theories of what they would need to do to care for the people, and as Vehk drew up speech and sermon to assure the Dunmer they were still in capable hands, it was Ayem that suggested they return to the Heart, immediately.

Sil and Almalexia had never been particularly close–certainly not as close as Vehk or Neht had been to the both of them–but he had always admired her direct manner of solving problems. She was a mer of action, whether it was charging into battle or milling through crowded streets of worshippers. If it weren’t for her insistence of getting the most straight-forward solution, they may have lost their divinity much, much sooner.

In later years, he wasn’t certain if he should love or hate her for that.

But in that moment, he was grateful, as was Vivec. They bathed in the power of the Heart of Lorkhan, and returned from the mountain as the gods the people expected. Things could stay as they were, for a little bit longer, at least.

But something did change that day, between their descent and ascent. There was a desperate ferocity to Almalexia as they made their way down to the chamber below Red Mountain. She led the way, savage as she had been the last time they’d fought here. But her single-mindedness left her with tunnel-vision, and a particularly reckless slash nearly sent her careening down into the lava below–a mistake that, in their state, would be fatal. But Sil was quick, catching her arm and pulling her back to safety.

He was thanked by Hopesfire’s tip pressed to his throat.

Nothing was said between them, but in the wild gold of her eyes, her thoughts were plain. How dare you touch me? How dare you doubt me? I am a god, the true god, and I should kill you for your impertinence.

Her arm dropped, free hand going to brush a copper curl behind her ear. No apologies or questions from either of them; it was such a quick moment, it was easy enough to pretend it never happened at all.

But along with his rejuvenated powers, Sotha Sil was left with a new certainty: one day, his dear friend Almalexia would kill him.

~

He was never sure when the Anticipation theory started getting passed around, much less when it became a theological fact in the eyes of the Temple. It was one of the few times he regretted being as absent as he was outside of his city; perhaps he could have talked some sense into whoever had come up with it.

He could understand the correlation between Vivec and Mephala well-enough; carnal proclivities aside, Vehk’s abilities to spin lies came long before they’d come near the heart. He had always twisted others–and himself–into believing his grand fictions; now, he just had the power to make it true.

Boethiah and Almalexia, that went without saying. Disdainful as he was of the Good Daedra, even Seht had seen glimpses of He-Who-Destroys and She-Who-Erases in Ayem on the battlefield. And as for deceit, and treason, and conspiracy…well, it was wise of the Temple to not look too deeply into those aspects.

But for Azura to be his anticipation felt like a cruel joke. There was nothing to compare the two of them. Yes, she loved the Dunmer, but only when it served herself well. Yes, his pride was immense–he knew his faults–but he had reason to be, unlike Twilight and her hollow vanity.

He wondered sometimes, when he had the time to spare for it, if she was equally insulted. Or, perhaps, she was in on the joke. He supposed it depended on what was stronger: her pride, or her hatred of him.

He didn’t ever try to guess at what her answer would be. It’d just prove the Temple right.

~

Sotha Sil wasn’t given to idle pleasures; he only did what he felt he must. So it took much longer than it ought have for him to finish the Elegiac Replication. When he enjoyed his work there, it felt like folly; when he hated it, it felt like a waste of precious time. But with such potent reactions to it, he realized that it really was something that must be made.

It was meant to be a place for himself–out of the Cogitum Centralis, in the midst of his creation. It was a solitary place, outside of the Brass Fortress, but far from closed off and perfectly open for anyone to come through. Of course, when he was there, he was often left alone regardless. He was never sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

Nall was the first projection he crafted. A childish desire, he supposed, to show his beloved sister all he’d done in the lifetimes upon lifetimes since he’d last seen her. He’d paused in his construction then, for a couple years, content to just have her beside him again.

But his life hadn’t ended with hers, for better or worse, and there was much more to ruminate over than the brief moment of his life in Ald Sotha. He crafted Vehk and Ayem next–considered, for a moment, showing them as they were before the apotheosis. But, in all truthfulness, their divinity was an essential part of who they were–their truest selves. So the projections showed them as they were now: Warrior-Poet and Mother Morrowind. It was a shame that they never came here; perhaps then they’d realize how much he thought of them, even in his isolation.

It took several years before he could craft the final projection. He had countless false starts, only to be stopped by doubt, or guilt, or grief. It was then that he was the most tempted to tear the whole thing apart–his garden, his city, the legacy he’d built for himself. But it must be done.

Even so, he was selfish in his crafting of Nerevar. He didn’t want the cold face of the Ordinators, or the idealized bust of the saint that haunted him across Morrowind. He didn’t want Azura’s Champion or even the Hortator. If he was to remember Neht, it had to be how he had loved him best: as a trusted mentor who trusted him in return, as his friend. And so he pulled from one of his memories, from so very, very long ago, a moment of the two of them conversing.

It was nearly perfect. Nerevar was perfect. But the mer talking with him, with golden skin and a body wholly composed of flesh and blood, with a face that conveyed absolute certainty when, in truth, he didn’t know a godsdamned thing–that wasn’t Sotha Sil. At least, it wasn’t anymore; now, he wondered if it ever was.

The fix was simple enough. A quick tweak, and it was the truest reflection he could hope for: Neht, frozen as he was then, and Seht, frozen as he was now. Later, in one of the times he sat reflecting, he wondered if it was a bit of wishful thinking on his part. Logically, he knew Nerevar would never forgive him for what he’d done if he were to come back. But even knowing so, he would give anything to talk with him once more, to receive friendly counsel not wrapped up in deference or worship or self-imposed divinity.

But, he supposed as he lingered there longer, that was the price of what he had done. The clarity was harsh, but welcome. And it proved that the Elegiac Replication was not a waste of time after all.

~

Twenty-two minutes. That was all he had left, in the best case scenario.

Millenia of work, all coming to an end in less than half an hour. Vivec would appreciate the drama of it, if he were here. Sil hoped that word would get back to him; he’d trust no one else with his obituary.

Twenty-one minutes. Prospect: Almalexia had come to pass, just as the simulations had shown, just as he’d been certain of beneath Red Mountain. He knew better than to hope he’d be wrong, now. He knew better than to hope at all.

Nineteen minutes. How often had he thought of his death? How often had he considered bringing it upon himself, or hoping against hope that his powers would fail in the midst of a grand battle? He and Ayem had been close, once, hardly even a decade ago; he remembered the terror in her eyes at the prospect of mortality, her utter gratitude–however quickly forgotten–when Vehk had arrived and rescued them from Vor–Shar–Dagoth Ur and his forces. For that moment, even amidst their waning divinity, Vivec seemed like the god he’d always wanted to be.

Fifteen minutes. What would it mean, for him to die? He’d wondered that often, but he’d never been able to come up with a satisfactory answer. Souls existed, and for all that was said of him, he knew he still had one.

Thirteen minutes. Would he go to Oblivion, then? Finally be reunited with the rest of his House?

Twelve minutes. Would he see Nall?

Eleven minutes. Would he see Nerevar?

Ten minutes wasn’t enough time to ponder. Nor was it enough time to truly act. He heard her coming, all the fury of the Chimer’s Warrior Queen once again on display. He needed to get into the control center; it would only take a moment to give his final instruction and seal off the Mechanical Heart, to ensure his one small piece of perfection outlived him for eternity.

Nine minutes. Once he was in, he’d be lost in his dreams. He wouldn’t be able to greet his death, as he probably should. He certainly wouldn’t be able to stop Ayem from killing him. Hopesfire was already dashing his defenses to bits; he was sure she was enjoying it, destroying the creation that he hid inside.

Seven minutes. He must get in the controls. No more time to waste.

It was an eternity and a moment later when she burst in.

“Your time has come, Sotha Sil! All these years you've looked down on me. Have you any last words?”

Oh, so many and so few. But what was the point of last words? A romantic notion, but he had much work to do and so little time to do it. There had never been enough time for him.

"Why are you silent? What are you hiding?! Speak, curse you."

But, of course, he would not. There were more important things to do; the chamber was nearly sealed. And, if his calculations were right, he had just enough time to do it.

“Fine then. Die, old friend.”

He heard nothing else, felt nothing else. His task was done, and his final certainty rewarded with the Mechanical Heart being sealed away.

Time and circumstance had lead to their logical conclusion, as they always did. He’d never been more than a mirror at the best of times, but perhaps every now and again, he had managed to reflect a bit of the divinity he’d always so denied.

~

Thank you so much for reading! I've sat with inspiration from the Elegiac Replication and this lovely piece of fanart for ages and ages and finally found it in me to write again.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Moment In Time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Just when you've gotten out, you’re given a reason to come back.

Warnings: Mild Language

Chapter 5

* * * * * * *

“You and Fury seem to forget that I’m retired pretty easily.” You say, eyes focused on your surroundings instead of the man talking to you.

A nice breeze flows past, followed by another crowd of passersby. The street is busy as always at this time of day but you always appreciate the hustle and bustle of the city. Something about it appealed to you. 

New York has always been busy, for as long as you can remember. Admittedly, with the lack of advanced technology in your time, people spent a lot more time talking to each other in passing than they now spend on their phones.

“No one’s forgotten, except maybe you,” Tony says and you turn to refocus your attention on him.“ Or did you forget that it was you who copped a ride with Fury to Sokovia.”

Of course you didn’t forget that. That mission had been more dangerous and life threatening than any one you’d previously been on. 

The man hums and nods, a soft chuckle leaves his lips,“ unless of course you weren’t there for the team.” 

“What?” Your eyebrows pinch together,“ what’re you talking about?” 

“I’m talkin about you and Romanoff.” He leans forward, pushing his coffee cup away a little.“ Clint told me about that little moment you two had before the city fell. What’d you do? Spring to action when you realized Natasha was in danger?”

Your eyes roll but you avoid answering his question. Cause that is actually what you did. On top of being generally concerned with the safety of your friends, your main focus was Natasha. You’d never admit it, out loud, but you know that’s what happened. And you know why you did, even if you won’t admit it at all. 

“Awe, don’t want me exposing your crush on Nat?” He further teases and your nose turns up at him.

“Think I liked you better when you were running around in pjs and building robots and stuff.” He makes an offended face and you smile sarcastically at it.“ If I agree to train the Maximoff kids will you not mention these supposed feelings for Natasha that you assume I have.”

For a moment he looks at you, then nods.“ You’ve got yourself a deal Y/ln. Also,” he pushes his chair back and stands up,“ you’re just training the girl. Rogers apparently has some special plan for Speedy.” Picking up his cup, he claps his hand on your shoulder with extra force, and walks away.

Just as you’re about to slouch into your seat to stay an extra few minutes he calls out for you to come with him and you resist the urge to groan. Sighing softly, you finish your tea and get up. 

As you expected Tony takes you to the tower. His choice of music blasts through the sports car and you can’t help but chuckle. Since he was thirteen he’d been obsessed with classic rock. You have no idea what the first song he heard was but whatever it was it hooked him to the genre.

Through the loud music he explains everything you’ll have to go over with Wanda and mentions that he’s getting a facility together upstate that will become the new Avengers HQ, but that move is going to take some time so the tower is still “home” as of now. You nod along, knowing that if not for your enhanced abilities you wouldn’t be able to hear him correctly.

By the time Tony pulls into the private parking garage, whipping into his spot and turning the car off, you completely understand what role you’re about to play in terms of training Wanda.

“What? Eager to get to work?” He asks after you’ve practically sprinted out of the car. 

“More like eager to get out before my ears start bleeding.” You tell him, glancing over your shoulder at him to stick your tongue out playfully. You don’t have to keep looking at him to know he rolled his eyes. 

The familiarity of the building makes it easy to navigate. Pretty much leaving Tony in the dust, you walk through the lobby to the elevators. Taking them up to the training floor. 

Your plan hadn’t been to see anyone just yet. Mainly coming here to form some sort of plan as far as training the Maximoff girl goes. Only for her to be the person you run into once having stepped into the training room.

She’s across the room, fingers running over the edges of a treadmill as her eyes look through the large floor to ceiling window. You imagine she’s taking in the sight the tower provides of New York. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” You ask, effectively grabbing the young woman’s attention. She turns her head to face you, eyebrows pinching together as she’s not familiar with you, only having seen you just before you hugged Natasha in Sokovia. 

“It is.” She replies shortly and you chuckle at it, stepping further into the room. 

Giving her a soft smile you introduce yourself,“ I’m Y/n,” you move over to the weight benches,“ Stark asked me to come in and help you adjust.”

Her eyes narrow and that draws your attention to the fact that her eyes are green.“ Are you an Avenger? Because I haven’t seen you around here.”

“I am not. I’m supposed to be retired but no one seems to give a damn so here I am.” Spreading your arms a little to emphasize your current location.

For whatever reason your words make her giggle and you smile at that, happy to have broken the ice at least a little. 

“So how’re you going to help me adjust Y/n?” Her inquisitive gaze follows her moving closer to you.

“Not sure. What do you need help adjusting to?” Your head tilts and your eyebrow quirks.“ The training regiment? Your new chaotic teammates? Living in New York?” 

“Is all of the above an option?” She asks, and although you know she’s serious you still hear the teasing in her tone. 

With a quiet laugh you nod,“ all of the above is an option.” You let her know.“ Um, I’m not sure of all the details with the move upstate but how about I show you around the tower and we can go over the basics of your training and such?” You decide to pose it as a question in case she doesn’t want to.

“That would be nice actually.” She smiles and you notice that it’s truly genuine. So with a smile in return, you motion for her to follow you out of the room. 

With her being on this floor, you assume she’s seen it all. Not that there’s much to see. It’s the training floor so there’s nothing but gyms and a locker room. Getting in the elevator, you press the number for one of the floors dedicated to just hanging out.

Not liking the silence of the elevators, Wanda breaks it with a question.“ So why didn’t you join the Avengers?” 

“Um,” you take a deep breath and release it as a sigh,“ I’d already done the whole superhero thing before. The Avengers came in and I was no longer needed.”

“Oh really?” She asks and her tone of voice makes you chuckle, then nod.“ And what made you want to be a superhero?”

The elevator stops and the doors slide open.“ I saw what they could do. The difference superheroes make in people's lives.”

Picking up on the shift in your energy, Wanda frowns, ignoring the very expensive looking stuff in the room.“ What happened?” She asked carefully, as if she were trying not to trigger something. 

“I-” you sigh softly, contemplating whether to actually tell her or not. Looking into her eyes you see past the general curiosity and what you find pushes you to tell her. 

So you both get comfortable on one of the couches in the room and you open up to her.“ I was taken by HYDRA when I was fairly young. And it’s not like the guards and scientists were interested in anything other than making me the perfect weapon. So when they started to experiment on me I was already in a horrible state physically. My health was on a steady decline and none of their experiments worked, it actually made me fatally ill. And with no further use of me, they’d left me there to die.” 

Wanda listens intently, eyes misting with tears at the information of your mistreatment.“ But you didn’t.”

“No I didn’t,” you both laugh softly at that.“ The, at the time soon to be, founders of SHIELD were working with the US military to shut down HYDRA after World War II and they found the facility I was being held in. While they saved everyone who was being held captive there, I was in the worst shape. Seeing that I was on the verge of death, they made a decision to administer the super soldier serum to me to save my life.”

Wanda’s eyebrows raise and you have to admit that her expression is amusing.“ You’re a super soldier from World War II?” You nod.“ How old would that make you?” 

“I’m 90. And I wasn’t in the war. I was born before the war. When it started I was 16 and already in a HYDRA base.”

She looks down and bites her bottom lip. You know she has another question on the tip of her tongue. And with her background, having volunteered to be experimented on by HYDRA, you know she’ll have a lot more questions after that.

So with a deep breath, you ask what’s on her mind and tuck in for a long conversation.

* * * 

After a long day at SHIELD, going over papers to further induct the twins into the Avengers, Natasha finally gets back to the tower. She ignores all the SHIELD agents rushing in and out of the lobby and goes straight for the elevators. 

Mentally, she admits that after the headache that is going into SHIELD, the sound of your laugh as soon as she gets on the main floor is refreshing. A small smile forms on her face and she makes her way towards the kitchen where she hears your voice.

While she knows you’re friends with the rest of her team, she can’t help but wonder if you came here to see her.

That thought falls short the instant she reaches the kitchen doorway. She quickly finds that the source of your laugh is the same young woman she’d just been recruiting onto her team. 

In fact, laughter comes from you and Wanda as you cook together. The aroma smells incredible but she can’t help but to remember that this is the very same thing the two of you had done on multiple occasions. 

“Nat, hey, when’d you get here?” 

Your voice pulls Natasha from her thoughts and she almost smiles again. Almost. 

“A few minutes ago.” She decides to take a step closer, which puts her right in the doorway.“ What’re you two making?”

“Um,” your eyebrows pinch together and you look at Wanda.

“Paprikash.” She answers with a quiet giggle and a shake of her head. 

You smile at her then look back up at Natasha,“ we’re making Paprikash.”

The redhead hums, debating with herself on whether she should stay or not. An indescribable feeling nagged in the back of her mind, growing more persistent as she looks at you and Wanda happily interacting with one another. It gradually chips away at her excitement to spend time with you and she hates it.

With a huff she says,“ I’ll leave you two to it.”

She turns on her heel and walks away, effectively dodging the blue blur that is Pietro running into the kitchen, heading back to the elevator. With her floor practically empty due to the move, she wasn’t eager to go up but it seemed more relaxing than watching someone else make you laugh and smile how she did. 

Just as the elevator doors have started to close you slip through, narrowly missing getting your arm caught between the doors, and stand directly in front of her. Your eyes scan her form, up to her face and lingering there. She watches as you take her in, your eyes finally meeting. 

In a soft voice, one that practically melts her heart, you ask,“ are you okay?” She can’t say she expected you to ask that, plus the equally as soft look in your eyes, she grasps for an answer. One that isn’t ‘I didn’t like seeing you so happy with someone else’.

“Just tired. It’s been a long day and my floor isn’t exactly relaxation friendly right now.” She excuses. 

Nodding along, you smile a little at her,“ think I could help with that if you’d let me.” And there’s no way she’s saying no.

That’s how, a little over thirty minutes later, she finds herself following you into your apartment building with takeout bags and beer in hand. 

You hadn’t explained the plan until you were picking up the food. Telling her that a change of scenery might be exactly what she needs. Her trying to relax and unwind at the Tower was equivalent to a lawyer trying to relax at their firm.“ You can’t destress from work at work.” You reasoned. 

Unlocking your door, you gently push it open and hold it for Natasha. She wasn’t sure what to expect of your apartment, but what she finds definitely isn’t it.

Walking into your apartment makes her a little confused. It’s like stepping into a time vault that housed a number of different eras all at once. While things like your appliances and a few tables or paintings were modern or at least from the last decade, your couch, chairs, and even your cabinets look dated.

It was as if you furnished your home without a single clue of what you actually knew you wanted to present. But it’s you. Natasha finds that it almost perfectly embodies the person she’s come to know you to be. 

Since the moment she met you it was clear you were equally as present as you were stuck in the past. Your friendships with Tony and Steve showed that in an ironic way. With Tony the majority of your conversations or bonding was over the future, things he was planning, building, or tinkering with that would change the future. While with Steve you focused on the way things used to be in the era you grew up and were raised in.

“Nice place.” She finally says, moving her eyes from the kitchen to you.“ Very, you.”

The look you give her makes a small giggle leave her lips. You seemed so proud of her first comment and then the second one made you frown, as if you couldn’t tell if you should take it as an insult or a compliment. 

“Don’t think too hard Y/ln, your ears are starting to smoke.” She says jokingly, patting your cheek without giving it any thought. Her turning away makes her miss the way you flush at her inconsequential touch. 

At your invitation, she makes herself at home, finding a spot on the couch and starting to unpack the food. You join her shortly after with plates and forks, turning the tv on and going to a channel you both enjoy watching. 

“How you feelin about the move?” You ask, picking up your plate and leaning back against the couch. Even though the tv is on, Natasha can’t help but notice that all your attention seems to be on her. 

While she is definitely used to the attention, men and women alike focusing solely on her because of her looks, your attention is different. She knows it would be unreasonable of her to think you aren’t paying attention to her for her looks because well, when she gives you attention the first thing she looks at is your looks. You’re incredibly attractive, especially to the redhead. But it was more than that. 

On both ends, yourself and Natasha saw the physical beauty, but you looked beyond that. You saw the beauty of each other’s personalities. 

You’re lighthearted, you have an outlook on life that she finds intriguing, and not just because you’re decades older than her, it was how you maintained a fairly optimistic view on things despite the cards you’d been dealt in the past. On top of that you’re honest and caring, especially to the people you consider friends and family.

As far as she goes, you see her in, almost, the same way she sees you. She’s honest. Shows her care in a way that you find adorable, mainly because it’s so nonchalant. Her will to keep going, to endure the many trials she’s been through. Her strength never fails to amaze you. Not to mention the absolute admiration you have for her in regards to her clearing her ledger. Especially since being an Avenger means so much more to her than just that. 

That thought alone sends a rumbling of butterflies in her stomach and she hates how childish it feels but loves it all the same. 

“Um,” she looks down, letting her hair curtain between you two to hide the blush that rises.“ I can’t say I feel any particular way about it.”

When she feels your fingers ghost over her cheek, she has half a mind to grab your hand and break it, but it’s you and she’s been secretly craving your touch. In the softest gesture she’d ever been on the end of, you brush her hair back. Your fingers lightly run over her cheek and temple as you hook her hair behind her ear. 

She looks over to see you drop your head slightly to catch her eye, a little smile on your face.“ It is okay if you aren’t all that happy to be leaving. The tower has been your home for the last few years. An attachment or even familiarity with it is understandable.” 

“I-” she sighs, just barely tilts her head closer to your touch, then lifts her head.“ I’ve never had a home Y/ln.” She knows you can hear the hurt in her words, cause admittedly she didn’t hide it like she usually would. She doesn’t feel the need to with you.

You go quiet for a moment and Natasha wonders if maybe she should’ve kept her somber comment to herself. The instant she considers walling herself off again, you speak.“ Well then maybe,”

She raises an eyebrow at you.“ Maybe what?”

“Maybe this could be your home.” You swallow, nerves manifesting in the way you play with your food.“ I know you’ve only just been here today but, everyone deserves a safe haven. Somewhere they can escape from the rest of the world. Everyone deserves a home.” You finally look back into her eyes,“ especially you Nat.”

You didn’t know but in that moment you got to her in a way no one else ever had. You didn’t tear her walls down. Instead, as if understanding the very reason the walls had been put up in the first place, you built a door to her heart and soul. And only you hold the key to it.

She’s hit with the weight of her feelings for you, feelings she’d never had for anyone before. As terrifying as she finds it, she can’t help but think that if there’s anyone who she could trust to be gentle with these feelings it’s you.

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife @yumusak-yastik @b-5by5 @fayhar @lostandsearching @iliketozoneout @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz

[ptergwen]

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

-

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

-

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 13

Dabi x Reader , Bakugo x Reader

Words : 3125

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

********************************************************************

You watched as Dabi paced in front of you as you hugged your knees to your chest. Shoto had come to sit next to you and you were grateful for his calming presence. He kept giving you a weird look and then looking at his brother. He obviously wanted to ask what was going on between the two of you, but you mouthed, “later” at him and he shrugged it off.

“Ok. So what? He has a list of my safe houses. That’s okay… That’s arguably a good thing actually.” Dabi was thinking out loud trying, and even though his voice sounded calm, you could see the way his hands balled into fists so tight his staples were pulling.

“No one knows about this place. This is the safest house out of all of them. I bought it after I left the League, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and the security is the best money can buy.” He stopped his pacing and looked at his brother, “So…”

Shoto draped a lazy arm around you and you released a tense breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He quirked his head at his older brother, “So…? What? Why is that a good thing?”

Dabi’s eyes got this scary look. They practically glowed and you could tell whatever he was thinking probably wasn’t good. “It means we can pick them off. Set up traps for them at my other safe houses. It might take some time… we won’t know what houses they’re targeting so at first it’ll be a lot of guess work.” You could see a scheme hatching behind his eyes and for once he truly looked like a villain. “You said Bakugo was already out looking for them, right? I can meet up with him! They’re my houses after all, no one knows them better than me.”

He took off towards the bedroom mumbling something about needing to pack. Your wide eyes connected with Shoto’s, “How long before he remembers he’d have to leave me behind and panics?”

Shoto hummed, “I’d say about thirty seconds after he’s done packing.” He shrugged, “It’s not a bad plan honestly. I see he’s gotten rather attached to you lately though.”

You could hear the unspoken question and you weren’t sure you were ready to jump into that conversation just yet. It was bad enough that Katsuki knew. You shrugged and averted your eyes back to the door Dabi had disappeared behind. “We’ve gotten pretty close. You learn a lot about someone when you’re stuck in a house with them.”

“SHIT!”

Shoto sighed, “Sounds like he just remembered.”

Dabi stomped back into the living room and stopped a few feet in front of you. His stare was intense almost like he was trying to see through you. You could see his frustration growing as he battelled internally over what he should do. “I can’t leave you here by yourself… I don’t want to leave you at all. But- But I can’t take you with me either.” You could see his mind running a mile a minute trying to come up with a solution.

“You can leave me here, I’m not totally useless. I have the collar, so you can call me, check on my location and vitals and all that creepy shit.” You gestured to the younger Todoroki sitting next to you, “And I’m sure your brother and Izuku are dying to have some time to catch up. They can keep me company. Kiri too if need be.”

Dabi kneeled in front of you and laid his arms on either side of you, caging you in. “It would drive me insane leaving you here.”

You brushed your thumb over the spot between his eyes, smoothing out his worried expression. “More insane than if you stayed here and let Katsuki handle this on his own?”

His body sagged and he leaned his forehead onto your shoulder. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounds like you want me to go.”

You leaned your head on his. “Of course I don’t want you to go idiot. But I hate to break it to you, I know you pretty well… And I don’t think sitting here day after day listening to you complain about how you could do it better, sounds like fun.” He groaned because he knew you were right. “So, go ahead and go. I’ll be fine here I promise. Go catch some bad guys with Katsuki.”

“Ugh don’t say it like that. You make is sound like a cheesy buddy cop movie. I just hope your little hero friend isn’t squeamish because I’m not going to hold back.”

Shoto cleared his throat, “Some of us… little heroes… have seen enough shit to last a lifetime. Bakugo’s the hardest working and grittiest out of us all, so believe me when I say you don’t need to worry about him.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes at his brother who he had just realized was practically cuddling with you. “Seeing death and dealing it out are two different things. I know he’s capable of killing someone, but mentally I don’t think he could cross that line.” He held a hand up to stop Shoto from arguing with him. “And I don’t care if he doesn’t want to get his precious hero hands dirty. Because that’s what I’m here for, and I’m honestly looking forward to it.”

You huffed, “Listen, I really don’t like the look you get when you talk about killing people. It’s sick… killing isn’t supposed to be fun you psychopath.”

His eyes shifted back to yours, “Baby girl. I want to make something clear. I will find the sick fucks that kidnapped you. I will torture them in the most painful and humiliating ways possible. By the time I’m done… they will welcome death with open arms. I’ll be doing them a favor.” His forehead pressed against yours. “Unless you’d rather I save them for you…My destroyer of men.”

You hit his shoulder, “I’d rather you let Katsuki arrest them! You know how I feel about killing villains.”

His hand gripped the back of your neck hard to force you to look at him, “…No. You know I can’t do that. The sooner you accept that, the easier all of this will be.” His thumb rubbed your cheek, “I know it sucks. But this is the world you live in now. We can’t trust anyone but ourselves.”

Shoto cleared his throat, “Listen I don’t know what is going on between the two of you, but I would appreciate it if you refrained from being kinky in my presence.”

Dabi growled, “Fuck off! You literally let yourself in unannounced… When all of this over I swear we’re leaving the fucking country. I’m so sick of you brats just coming over whenever you feel like it. We’re gonna leave and you’ll never see us again.”

Shoto quirked an eyebrow, “So… Even after all of this is resolved… you plan to still live with y/n?” You could see the gears turning in his head as he pieced all of this together. “Hmm interesting.” He got up and stretched. “Well I guess I’ll give you guys some alone time to… do whatever this is… just without me having to witness it.”

“Hey before you go… You sure you’re okay with keeping an eye on her while I’m gone?” You hadn’t heard Dabi sound so uncertain before. Usually he carried so much confidence that it was overwhelming. But now he sounded lost.

Shoto nodded, “Yeah it’s not a big deal. Izuku and I can take shifts. Kirishima will probably take over every now and then depending on how long you are gone… But we don’t mind. Y/n was right when she said we’d like to catch up with her.” He gave you an awkward wink that was completely out of character for him. “You’ve been hoarding her all to yourself for months now.” He walked down the hall and shouted, “Try not to be too loud. I’ll just pick the room that smells the least like sex.”

“Good luck! I’ve fucked her on every surface of the hou—” You slammed a hand over Dabi’s mouth to cut him off.

You hid your face in Dabi’s shoulder to stifle your laugh. “I love your brother so much. He has no filter and it’s honestly so refreshing.”

A quick slap to your thigh had you gasping, “I don’t appreciate you talking about my brother that way.” He nipped at your earlobe harshly, “Especially after I just agreed to let him stay here while I’m gone.”

Before you could respond he was standing up and throwing you over his shoulder, “I think I need to remind you who you fucking belong to.” He slapped your ass as you shrieked, “I might be gone for a while, so I think I need to give you something to remember.”

“You are so ridiculous! He’s literally in a committed relationship with another man!”

Dabi tossed you onto his bed and immediately fell on top of you. “He’s also my brother and I know that slut swings both ways.” He bit down hard on your shoulder, “I’m going to leave my fucking mark all over you before I go.” He sucked a bruise into your neck, “Tonight… I’m going to claim every fucking inch of you.”

He had you naked underneath him within seconds, kissing down the column of your neck. He continued down to suck a nipple into his mouth and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from screaming.

“Come on baby, let him hear you. Let him hear how good I treat you. Let him know that there is only one Todoroki for you.”

You wanted to argue with him. There was no way Shoto was interested in you at all. He’d been in love with Izuku since high school. But you were also enjoying the way Dabi was marking his territory. There was something so peaceful about giving up control to another person, especially someone you trust.

You let him kiss and suck and grope every part of you. In this moment you were his to do with as he wished. You didn’t care he was leaving mark after mark on your skin. He was claiming you, he was daring others to lay a finger on what it is his. And you fucking loved it. You loved the peace and the comfort that came with the idea of him declaring that you are his. The security of knowing he wouldn’t let another soul touch you.

He bit harshly into your inner thigh, making you yelp and buck your hips.

He chuckled darkly as he came back up and rubbed his nose against yours. “Baby girl, just look at your face. I haven’t even touched your pussy yet and you already looked so fucked out.” He dragged his fingers lightly over your stomach, across your ribs, over your breast, and finally let them settle on your neck.

You shivered and closed your eyes, “Dabiiii, stop teasing me.”

His fingers tightened around your throat. “You said some shit earlier that really got under my skin. And now I can’t decide if I should punish you or not.”

Your head spun as it tried to think about what you possibly could have said to upset him. “What – what did I say?”

Dabi leaned in sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before biting down hard. “You said…. You loved my brother.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you felt an intense heart overwhelm your face and neck. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Was he jealous? Did he want you to say you loved him? Is that really what he wanted to hear?

You hadn’t noticed him pulling his own pants down until he was thrusting into you. “I’m a selfish man y/n. I’m greedy. I don’t share. And hearing those sweet little words said about someone else.” His hips snapped into yours harder, as his fingers got even tighter around your neck to the point where you were sure there would be bruises.

His pace picked up and you could feel the sweat dripping from his forehead, “I wanna hear you say it. Who do you love?”

Your eyes rolled back as you croaked out a horse “you”

“That’s not good enough doll. I said! WHO do you FUCKIN LOVE?”

His fingers let go of your throat and as intense pleasure washed over you, leaving your legs shaking, “YOU!”

He fucked you through your orgasm before he followed right behind you, “That’s what I fuckin thought.”

He only parted with you long enough to clean the two of you up. He wandered to the bathroom to get a warm, wet towel. You hummed contently as rubbed it all over your body, especially over the sore new marks he had made on your skin. When he was satisfied, he tossed the rag to the floor to deal with later and rejoined you in bed. He pulled you to him, your back to his chest, and let out a huge sigh. “I’m really nervous about leaving you here. And it honestly makes me angry. I’ve never cared about another person like this, hell I’ve never even cared about my own well being this much.” You could feel him resting his chin on your shoulder, “It makes me feel weak and I hate it.”

You intertwined your fingers with his that were wrapped around your middle. “You know what they say about bravery right? Bravery isn’t not being scared. Only stupid people aren’t scared of anything. Bravery is being scared of something and doing it anyway.” You sank further into his embrace. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m scared too. Which is equally as frustrating.”

You could feel him kiss your shoulder, encouraging you to continue. “I used to be incredibly independent. I lived alone, I worked alone, because of the classified nature of my job I was pretty isolated. I didn’t need anyone, and I was more than happy to get shit done on my own…Now the thought doing anything without you gives me anxiety.”

He sighed, “If anything that makes me feel worse… I believe we have a classic case of codependency… it’s your fault by the way. For sucking me in to your annoyingly needy arms.”

“Says the guy who has his arms currently wrapped around me like a vice.” You wanted to stay in this sweet moment. He was never this open with you, never this soft. “And even though it’s not my fault, I will admit that I did kind of need you for everything when I first got here.” You felt his chest rumble with silent laughter. “But you never really complained, did you? To be honest I had thought you would have been… I don’t know… a little more… cold I guess.”

His hands heated up as they rubbed circles into your stomach. “To anyone else I definitely would have been.” He turned you around so he could pull your chest to his and rolled onto his back, tucking your head under his chin. “I was fucking toast the second you fell into my arms though.” He groaned, “UGH! I sound like such a pussy. I hate it.”

You pressed several kisses to his chest, “Well I don’t hate it.”

There was a long stretch of silence in which the two of you just held each other, not wanting to burst your bubble.

Dabi cleared his throat and you knew he wanted to talk about it. “Listen… While I’m gone all of the laws are still valid. You still need to take care of yourself. Just because I’m not here to force you to eat lunch doesn’t mean you don’t have to.” His fingers rubbed up and down your spine. “I’m sure if you ask the guys, they’ll work out with you, but they need to keep their filthy hands to themselves.” His hand stopped at your collar, “And as much I hate saying this. Don’t call me.”

You lifted your head and gave him a confused look, “What? You worried your side chicks will hear?”

He reached down and slapped your ass, “Shut up. I literally live with you and we never leave the house. That jokes not even funny.” His hand started to rub the same spot he had just slapped, “I’m being serious though. I don’t want you to call me. If something happens and they get my phone, or hell if they somehow capture me, I don’t want anything tying me to you. Shigaraki suspects you’re with me otherwise he wouldn’t be going through my safe houses. But he doesn’t know you’re with me, and I want to keep it that way.” His voice got quitter as he mumbled into your hair, “Besides… I think if I heard your voice I’d give up and come home.”

You froze, “Okay, that is officially the softest thing you’ve ever said to me… and I love it.”

He growled low in your ear, “That’s it, I’m going to start calling you whore, and making you call me sir. I’m losing my damn edge.”

You just giggled, knowing he was bluffing, but then again… he did get you a collar.

“I’m going to miss you… sir.”

“I’m gonna miss you too… my special little whore.”

You sarcastically beamed at him, “Aww you think I’m special?”

That night, you barley slept. You were so worried he’d leave without waking you up to say bye. So, as a consequence you woke up several times throughout the night and every time, he’d pull you closer and mumble a sleepy “still here.”

When morning finally came you sat on the bed with your kneed tucked under your chin as you watched him finish getting ready. Your eyes followed him as he walked around the room, taking his time. He knew the sooner he got dressed the sooner he’d have to leave.

Finally, when he had no other choice, he laced his boots up and looked at you. “Come here…” He held his arms out to you and you quickly slid into his embrace. “You be a good girl while I’m gone, okay?” He kissed the top of your head. “Listen to Shoto and try not to give him too much shit. Follow the laws, don’t watch any of our shows while I’m gone, if there’s any big emergencies have one of the guys call Bakugo.”

You nodded and looked up into his bright blue eyes, “You be safe, and don’t do anything stupid. Come back preferably in one piece please.”

He chuckled, “I will do my best doll.”

************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi