#all pics are real sky photos :) if you're wondering

[leonisandmurex]

William & Catherine and their titles

[threepandas]

Bird4Bird Part 5: Yandere Hawks

You know, people should be real glad he's such a nice guy. A Hero. Cause it was WAY too easy to get Her files. Tsk, tsk. Such poor security! He's kinda disappointed, honestly. He was sorta expecting a bit of a challenge.

It IS a Goverment building after all.

But maybe it's 'cause she's not a Hero herself. She's a civilian. So they don't care as much. You'd think you'd just get universal security and then lock down the Heroic files, but no. Glorified safes and lock boxes. Clear and traceable holes in all SORTS of bloodlines.

Gee, wonder why Mr. and Mrs. So-n-So have a redacted kid! Bet THEY'RE not related to any Heros! Sure won't be easy to just go to their HOUSE an find their kid's name THERE along with a few hostages!

It's theater. A joke, really. He's kinda GLAD he basically has no family, if THIS is the security they'd get.

Good thing he's removing Her files. They'll be MUCH safer with him~. A few dummy files left in their plaaaace, aaaand... back out through the blind spots in the camera coverage! Honestly, he's done harder exercises with his feathers literally concussed.

Ooooh~☆ Like that one. And that one~!

He keeps flipping through his social feeds. Might as WELL multi-task. Selfie with the skyline~♡! Aaaand upload. There we go, that's his #Aesthetic post of the day. Now PR will have nothing to complain about. Hmmmm, should like a few memes. Don't comment on THAT scandal. Joke about THAT one. Post a thirst trap modeling pic... aaaand...

He feels his feathers escape the building. Finally! It was his last hit of the night. File finally in hand, he lazily rolls to his feet, stretchs. Tucks the file away but not his phone. Then let's himself drop forward into open air. Let's his wings CATCH.

The magnificent slide of cool air against his feathers, the resistance of wind against his wings. He soars and for a moment... let's himself feeling nothing else. It is perfect.

It always is.

First things first, dropping of the files. Gotta keep them safe after all. Then... then he SHOULD be going to bed. Heck, if he doesn't feel like going alone, it's not like he doesn't have OPTIONS. He honestly has too many. But even then, the thought of it's exhausting...

They want The Mask. And yeah, sometimes it's FUN being the mask. Good for PR. Adds to his good reputation when they inevitably talk.

And they always DO talk.

They spread the word exactly as he expects them too. Dispite swearing, to the last, not to breathe a word. The picture of discretion, they PROMISE, Hawks~♡! Ha. 'Course they are. Pretty, chatty, birds. Picked for their scandal free backgrounds, photo ready faces, and hero positive attitudes.

He gets a LIST for every event he goes too. Has several, ranging from "approved in general" to "by region". Really... the height of romance, his meet-cutes. Picture perfect down to the last detail.

You'd almost thing a team of handlers PLANNED them for him.

Not to say the sex isn't great. Sex is always nice! Just... not when you're not in the mood for something REAL, ya know? When you want to get... get MESSY.

Hunt someone. See those eyes dilate, utterly AWARE and focused completely on HIM. That moment of indecision. Stay and fight? Run? Watching the scales tip and clatter in ruin to the floor. Run. Let um get a head start. RUN. Want to see those Big BEAUTIFUL Wings snap out to their full width, massive and powerful, and RIP through the air as they fling her into the sky. RUN!!!

Run away, lil predator. He's coming to CATCH you~

God, she'd be so POWERFUL in the air. So DANGEROUS. Eating up the distance like she actually stood a CHANCE. Those wings, so far from fragile its laughable. But... oh. Oh, he's FASTER. So, so much faster. Agile in a way her raw power robs her off.

She would never be able to fight him off. Would have NO chance to truely escape.

And then?

Then it's a matter of stamina. Training. And only ONE of them's a Hero~

He'd harry her. Feathers flying from ever angle, deadly sharp and far too close. Better dodge! Use your quirk! Oh DEAR, uses stamina as a fuel source does it? Hope you have ENOUGH~!

Little cuts. Kicks here and there. Pushing her lower~ Pushing her lower~ Watch out for that building! Uh oh! Powerlines! Large wingspan is a benefit in open air~ but it works against you heeeeereeeee~! Better LAND, lil harpy!

Before he knocks you from the SKY.

And he WOULD. God, it would be AMAZING. If he got her at just the right angle? He could kick her into a building, a tree, SOMETHING. Or maybe as she goes to flap? He could trap a wing. She'd DROP.

Wrap her torso in enough feathers to pin it. Slow her fall juuuust enough to really hurt, but keep her from hitting wrong. Ah~ bet she'd SCREECH. Struggle and lash like a cornered animal. Wing slamming the dirt helplessly, flapping uselessly, as she tries SO hard to get free... heart pounding, legs kicking, adrenaline surging through her veins~

He Wins, lil fighter~ now he gets his prize~♡

Ah, he bets you'd BITE. If the HPSC wouldn't kill him for it, he'd probably LET you. Let you scar him up in your rage. Leave your mark. You'd be so PISSED at losing. So nervous. And he can get that, vulnerability is a lot. Big, strong, walls all crumbling down? It'd feel like raw nerves. Being SEEN.

And he'd SEE her alright.

Even if she managed to avoid it. Managed to land, run, get herself nice and lost. He'd chase her down. Wear her down. Til the anger has no more fuel to burn. The threats have no more strength. Make her run and fight and run and climb and RUN... until her body just? Can't any more.

All struggled out~

Nothing but muscles shaking and bruises, feather cuts and the sweat that burns them. Gasping for air that can't seem to come fast enough. She never stood a chance~ But he let her try anyway.

And god. All his senses would be ON FIRE. Practically high on it. He'd be everything he's NOT supposed to be. Every instinct he's supposed to shove down on full glorious display.

He'd feed her till she CHOKES. She wouldn't get a choice. Watch the grease run down her pretty face and neck. Run his fingers through those pretty feathers and feel HIS against her skin. Preening and so, so pretty. All clean~ All those pretty little cuts and poor lil scrapes.

He put his merch on Each And Every One~

Little red feather band-aids all pretty on her skin~♡

His~ Won fair an square. Gotta take care of it. Blood and grease and sweat. Find all the places that make his Harpy bird squirm. But she can't escape. Not ever escape. He won. His, his, his. He'd make those place feel NICE. Watch her as she feels good.

She'd be so tired. So sore. She'd WANT to feel good. Be so tired of fighting and pretending. Hungry. And he'd be so good about how he takes care of her. Cause he's a HERO. Massaging hands and feathers that hold her nice and still. Careful kisses and playful teasing. Then? He'd hold those powerful, exhausted, thighs open and show her what worship feels like.

She'd make SUCH cute noises. He bets he could make her beg. Could probably make her cry.

He's fantasized, before, about not holding back. When some hero chaser is in his bed, with the "real" Hawks. Performing once again, a different facet of the Mask, all the better to pretend he is a Real Boy. Ha! What would be like? To do nothing but feel GOOD? To concentrate on pleasure? The feeling of his body moving?

To GRAB and put his back into it? Knowing damn well he'd leave bruises. Because he's stronger then them. Because his body is a weapon. Because wires in his brain were mixed up long, long ago and nothing can possibly undo it now. Wanting to snarl and shred everything around him as he rams home, deep and good like he's melting.

Wants feathers EVERYWHERE. Under him, against his skin, attached to whomever he's fucking. A God damned NEST. With blankets and feathers and tatami.

Wants to be BONELESS for how hard he fucked. How much effort it took. A marathon and a national EVENT. Wants to put on a parade and have a feast and then RUIN all of it. It's like screaming in his head, sometimes. All the instincts he is forced to repress and ignore. They blend together. Violence and hunger and horny and NEEDY AND ANGER AND-!

He lands. Outside her apartment. He's seen rats live in better places. It's an unkind assessment. But he's abruptly feeling kind of... agitated. He really should push her towards a better job. Like working for him. Or living with him. Or being HIS. Maybe both. And he'll need to hunt down a few insurance agents. Have some TALKS.

He slips a few feathers into the building. Her neighbor sleeps with the window cracked. From there? The vents. Gotcha~

The steady sound of breathing. Asleep. The rhythmic pattern... knowing it's from HER... it's...

It's soothing.

He settles back into a watchful crouch. He's still on edge. Hard. But nothing he can't fix. He has a pretty good angle from where he's perched. You forgot to fully close your blinds. And his eye sight is EXCELLENT. You look so relaxed~♡

He feels you breathe. Gently, ever so gently, let's one of his feathers drift forward to land carefully against a cheek. Warm. He can feel your pulse.

He strokes himself franticly. The cold air of night time just adding to the thrill as it teases everywhere his hand is not. His handlers would HATE this. The HPSC would NEVER allow it. He presses his other had to his face, to muffle his voice, as he desperately tries to both buck his hips AND keep his balance. So good. God she looks so VULNERABLE~

He milks the tip. Finally giving in to the urge to BITE his hand, glove leather filling his mouth. The only think keeping him upright on the phone poll he landed on, is the feathers he's grabbed himself with. And even THAT reminds him of his earlier fantasies. He spills, jerking, and raining down on the unsuspecting street below.

Good thing it's so late at night.

His entire body is riding the aftershocks. Sensitive and good. Euphoric. He laughs, wild eyed as he stares down at his hand. How depraved~ His lil hunter is certainly bringing out the worst of him, isn't she? Or maybe it's the best? It's certainly SOMETHING. And god, is it HUNGRY.

He looks back at her sleeping face as he licks his hands clean...

He should do this again~

[hecohansen31]

Ok imagine: (part 1) you're friend with Michael on a website created for shy people, who don't post any picture and hide their identity to not be bother and one day, because you really like each other, you decide to meet in person. But when you see him, tall, blond, handsome, you can believe he is the lonely boy, bullied by his neighbors and who never even kissed someone. You think he is lying, pranking you and you run away before he could see you.

(A/N): Hello there, lovely!

I am rather sorry for posting this rather earlier and I swear that with tomorrow, I’ll have almost finished all my asks, which is... marvelous, hence I can focus on new writing projects and the beautiful asks you sent on my way!

(If you have more outside of CF’s character, continue to send, also I would love some Xavier’s ones, if you have some!).

With this being said, I hope you’ll enjoy this, I loved this idea, because a while ago, I had a similar, but never got around to write so it was nice to finally do!

Have a nice day, sweetie!

WARNINGS: Body Issues, Self-Consciousness, Depressive Thoughts.

You weren’t exactly self-conscious about your body.

But if you could have worn a paper bag onto your head, you would have gladly chosen to do so.

And not only as fashion statement.

You didn’t remember exactly where your self-consciousness had begun.

Some part of you wondered, whether it had always stuck with you.

Your friends had introduced you to “Faceless” a new social network where people could upload mostly status and quotes, without the need of an image to represent them, being indeed “faceless”.

It could have alarmed your “stranger-danger” sense, but your friends always used it as a way to facelessly make fun of somebody, resulting in it being an extremely mean place.

Except for you and Michael.

You had met Michael after you had discovered you liked the same artist.

You had published some of his art, resulting in Michael commenting about how he had recently visited an exhibition of his, which he had loved, and asked if he could share of the photos he had made there, with you.

You hadn’t minded, although you had been ready to block him if he even thought about sending you dick pics, which he didn’t, sending you the exhibition’s photos indeed, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the sweet gesture.

From then on, you couldn’t help but feel like there were more and more things that linked you two together.

Most importantly your self-consciousness.

Michael admitted that he had discovered “Faceless” on his own, meanwhile he was skimming through the internet and had been rather pleased to discover that he didn’t have to show his face and show himself around to talk with people.

He didn’t feel in the slightest confident because of his grandma, who had kept him segregated at home, till her own evilness had gotten to her and she had died from some lung malfunction due to the perpetrated use of cigarettes she had done.

She had died screaming at her nephew and Michael had never been able to forgive himself, thinking that he had been the one who had killed her.

Thankfully after this bad experience he had been able to move on, being moved to a new house and meeting Mrs Mead, who took care of him lovingly and brought him to exhibitions and galleries, since he didn’t mind in the slightest the painter life, although “he wasn’t very talented” according to him.

He used “Faceless” also to publish his sketches and you had eventually gotten him to submit his art to a context for unexperienced artists.

“It isn’t even that good” he had written to you, after he had submitted.

And guess what… HE HAD WON.

In the end, time had come, and after you had exchanged phone numbers, you had thought about seeing each other in person, since you didn’t live far.

You felt extremely nervous but the possibility of finally meeting Michael, somebody who understood you and cherished your fidgety and self-conscious personality, made you extremely excited and daring.

You were still scared that he might end up being some kind predator, hence you had suggested to meet at a park, in order for it to be full of people, but also somehow private and they would both be wearing something that could make them stand-out.

Him a yellow shirt, and you a polka dotted dress.

Since you were anxious and excited, you ended up being a few minutes early and examined the elegant place, watching through your lashes anybody that came down from your avenue, meanwhile you tried to fake being absorbed in the book you were reading, although nothing would make your mind stick to it.

In the end, something yellowy caught your eyes, but it was just a young boy going around with his parents, who raised him slightly off the ground, to make him giggle.

A truly adorable scene that got you distracted enough that when an older boy with a yellow shirt passed in front of you, you didn’t stop him.

But immediately your gaze was fixed onto him, and you were unable to stop yourself from staring at the gorgeous angel in it: he was desperately handsome, in an ethereal way, almost shy to his own light, made by his golden curls, decorating perfectly and styled around his face.

His pretty eyes held some kind of shyness to them, and insecurity brought them to shine duller, in a greyer shade of ocean, still appreciable but you couldn’t help but wonder what they would be like at it brightest.

They had to be stars, shining in a dark sky.

He was the kind of guy that you would see outside and take a good look, dumbfounded, but then you would turn away, knowing he was waaaayyyy out of your league, hence it got you even more depressed than usual.

But the fact that he was wearing a yellow shirt made you ogle at him even more, trying to make some sense into what you were seeing: was there a possibility that that handsome boy was your Michael?

The shy and not confident Michael, who thought he looked like Frankenstein’s creature and didn’t like going out, since everybody made fun of the way he walked, talked and even looked with gangly arms and clumsy legs.

But that boy was in no way any of those things: he was a classically handsome man, a Michalangelo’s human carved statue and with an androgynous shape that brought interest and uniqueness to him.

A truly masterpiece.

… that didn’t match with the image of Michael you had been given.

You, at first, thought it was just somebody with a very yellow shirt, not your Michael, but then you had seen him look around, almost as if he was waiting for somebody and this got to you.

It was truly Michael.

But not your Michael.

Not the one you had known through internet.

Maybe it was stupid but the fact that he was gorgeous made you uneasy.

It almost felt like you were being played a cruel joke by Michael.

Maybe he had just wanted to gain your confidence then to break your heart, making fun of you, some people did that, although it seemed disturbed.

And you just felt extremely uneasy, enough that you just picked up your book and moved away, before he could glance at your polka dot dress, as you tried not to let your waterworks open in that moment, worried that it would make you seem even more an idiot, and when you were behind the walls of your house, you crouched to the ground.

Your view became hazy for your tears, and before you knew it, you were clutching your chest in a fetal position, unknowing of what the hell was going on, trying to make sense, in how cruel the Destiny had been.

It had given you finally somebody who understood you and cherished you for all your fears and insecurities, and then he had taken him away in such a horrible and embarrassing way.

You couldn’t help but feel grateful that he hadn’t noticed you, since it meant that he wouldn’t have to witness your embarrassing form.

You would stay faceless, but you were a bit glad to have known such an angelic face.

… although you would never be worth of it.

After you felt a bit better, since your stomach basically grumbled back to life, you brought yourself out of your miserable self-pity and onto the kitchen table and there you had left your bag, probably after you had smashed it onto table, in your mental breakdown.

Something inside it was ringing, probably your phone.

You had expected it to be your friend who had known about your little “blind date”, and was worried sick about you meeting a stranger on the internet:

“What if he tries to kidnap you, (Y/N), haven’t you thought about it?”.

“You seriously think that there would be anyone interested in kidnapping me?”.

But it wasn’t your friend: it was Michael.

You let your phone ring, till it got exhausted and your screen showed you a few of the many messages Michael had sent you, which you looked into from the preview, in order not to give away the fact that you had read them.

The first ones were nervous and shy, asking you whether you had found the right spot and were already waiting by him, or if you were some minutes late.

“… if you are late, don’t worry, I just thought I’d come here early”.

“I am nervous, I honestly am scared to meet you in real life”.

“Hey (Y/N), you are coming, right?”.

“Did you have some problem at home?”.

“Hey… aren’t you coming?”.

“Gosh, (Y/N), I am honestly worried… did something happen to you? Please call me!”.

And then he had started calling you indeed, almost frantically, and you were pretty sure that you would find something in your voicemail, but you didn’t check it, and eventually just let your phone ring.

Till you had enough, and you finally replied.

“Won’t you leave me alone?” you sputtered, knowing that it was just a stupid cruel joke, made by an ignorant jock.

“Oh, thank God, (N/N) you replied!” he didn’t seem to acknowledge in the slightest your tone, just happy as a puppy waggling his tail at his owner “… I was getting worried honestly… did something happen this morning? We can reschedule…”.

“I did come today” you felt an uncomfortable silence go through you, but you didn’t let it affect you, pushing yourself further “… and I freaking saw you, Michael, you are certainly not an ugly ducking”.

“Oh, then if you saw me… why didn’t you…”.

“Why don’t you do us all favor and drop this act?” your voice was harsh, your mood quickly swinging from sadness to rage “… I know that you had quite the fun, convincing somebody that you were nothing but an ugly nerd, to make them believe and confide you, just to make fun of them when you finally met them face to face”.

The other line was silent, before a slight hiccup was heard.

“I don’t know what you are talking about (N/N), I honestly had no ulterior intentions than to meet you, face to face” his voice was a rollercoaster of emotions, swinging from calm to whiny and then full-blown teary “… I honestly would never ever make fun of you, you have to believe me”.

“I am barely a five, on a scale from one to ten, Michael…” you mumbled, calming a tiny bit down, mostly because Michael’s voice seemed damnably honest, but you knew better than to trust easily people “… and you are a freaking eleven… so I think that it is better for us to never see us again”.

“No, no wait… (N/N)… if I did something… I am sorry, but please don’t…” his voice right now was extremely sad, and you were absolutely sure that he had started crying “… you are one of the few people with whom I can be myself and seriously the sole thought of you leaving me, make me sick…”.

“I am sorry, Michael, but it is better for both of us, with time, you’ll come around”.

You didn’t want to be hurt.

Even if this wasn’t a joke, Michael was too good for you and eventually he would grow out of a crush on a stranger he had idealized, and to make it even more clear, you chose to send him a photo of you, mostly because you thought that once he saw you, as the mess you were, he would have finally understood.

You then decided to switch off your phone to sleep a bit peacefully, something that might help with your broken heart, but you couldn’t help but keep on replaying that morning meeting, although it always ended up badly: Michael would reveal himself to be a pompous prick and you would end up humiliated in a corner.

When you had woken up, mostly because your roommate had come back home, you had switched on your phone remembering about your friend’s worry, but it wasn’t any message of hers that caught your eyes, it was instead… Michael’s reply to your picture.

One of your favorites, because you smiled brightly and the dress you had chosen made you definitely feel pretty, but you didn’t think that it would even come close to Michael’s beauty.

Still he had replied that you looked gorgeous and that maybe the true reason why you hadn’t wanted to meet him was due to him not being enough for you.

And he had heartbreakingly replied, with a last message, that he wouldn’t have bothered you in the slightest.

The thought of it made you slightly sad, but you were resolute.

Your new week without your “best friend” ended up being extremely difficult, at first you were confident you wouldn’t be missing him too much, but you had had to delete the “Faceless” app from your phone in order not to check it continuously, alongside having to push the laptop away from you.

Your anxieties still didn’t go away, but you were able to reach some kind of balance on the second week, unlike Michael, who had tried to send you some messages, mostly to check in on you.

You never answered, because they reminded you of what it might have happened, had you seriously met.

But it still made you nostalgic, you were completely unable to feel like you had somebody who understood you, who you could talk with no judgement.

It almost made you feel like you might have overreacted the entire thing, almost as if the thought of risking it with Michael might have made it all worth it, had you succeeded in your whole plan.

But maybe… as life had proven you many times, you might have ended up with one more reason to hide yourself from the world.

That morning you had been out for some grocery shopping, and meanwhile you were moving in the street from the little supermarket to pick up some food, to the florist’s shop so that you would be able to have some flower to brighten your dark days.

But as you were coming inside, you saw a movement, and turned around, but soon found a pair of unknown arms around you, startling you enough that you couldn’t help but sigh and try to push yourself away, thinking it was some kind of way to run.

But your mysterious assaulter ended up revealing himself to be a blond angel, you knew all too well: Michael.

He immediately realized your discomfort and he distanced himself slightly, blushing awkwardly and standing there with a hand onto his arm, looking down, before he muttered a shy “hello”.

You couldn’t help but be embarrassed a bit by the entire scene, although your heart roared at knowing that Michael had wanted to make you receive such a genuine reaction, something that convinced that maybe… just maybe… he hadn’t meant anything.

And that somehow… he liked for what he had seen and known.

“… I am sorry, I know that you said that you didn’t want us to meet each other again, but I just… I just felt the need to finally meet you… and hug you… but…” he twirled one of his blond curls between his fingers “…you must think I am a psycho”.

“Just a bit” you replied, softly, trying to make some sense in what was going through your brain “… I honestly have to say I have overreacted a bit… I have missed you in these days…”.

“I have missed you, too” he replied gingerly, meanwhile he went to kiss a bit sloppily your cheeks, making you laugh a bit, at his enthusiasm “… I was hoping that we would be able to finally meet each other… I prayed for it each day…”.

You blushed at his eagerness, and at the fact that it was what you had thought all the time you had spent away.

“I…” you didn’t know what to say anymore, and just stared at Michael’s pretty eyes, thinking that maybe… for one day… it was good to try things, to risk it all “…think that maybe we have closed one door, but we might start again, face to face, instead of ‘faceless’ “.

Michael giggled at his corny humor, and meanwhile you offered a hand for him to hold, he guided you in another soft hug.

“Well then it’s nice to meet you, I am Michael”.