#enough stray knowledge to talk about

[kryptonitejelly]

what is the thing you have 0 interest in but have picked up from a friend / partner?

and what have they learnt from you?

[sixosix]

can i go where you go? | kaedehara kazuha

warnings 2.2k words, lots of kissing… like srsly, pure fluff, kazuha is a cutie, not a slick cutie though, friends to lovers!!

or, three times Kazuha keeps kissing you on ‘accident’.

The first time Kazuha kissed you, it was on Beidou’s ship.

You're only partially awake, your eyelids heavy, and you move with a slow, languid pace as Kazuha escorts you towards The Alcor. The wind hums as it caresses the sails, accompanied by the lively shouts and cheers of the crew on board.

“So early,” you mutter, sighing. “Too early. Sun isn’t even out yet.”

“It will be, soon,” Kazuha says, smiling at you in the same way that he always does. Tender, as comforting as the ocean pooling on your feet as you walk by the shore. “You mentioned you wanted to meet the Captain, didn’t you? Tilt your head a little.” Although he says it, his finger comes to your chin and gently directs your gaze himself.

He’s gesturing to the woman standing at the quarterdeck, her hands resting on her hips and her shoulders remarkably broad. She turns as if hearing Kazuha’s soft voice amidst the boisterous chatter. Your jaw goes slack in awe, excitement washing away the last traces of fatigue tugging your bones as everything you’ve heard about Captain Beidou from Kazuha comes rushing back.

Kazuha steadies you with a hand on the small of your back as your knees falter when climbing the ship.

“Captain Beidou!” You bow deeply, lowering your head to your waist, arms outstretched to offer her the sake and the sakura mochi you made the night before—which cost you sleep, but it is worth more than anything when you get to gift the woman who took care of your best friend when you couldn’t. “Thank you so much for letting me tag along. Please take this.”

Kazuha and Beidou glance at each other in surprise.

Kazuha starts, “You didn’t have—”

“No,” you say, firm. “This is the least I can do. Don’t try, Kazuha.”

Kazuha’s expression eases to a smile. “Alright.”

“I like this one, Kazuha,” Beidou says, ruffling your hair, and leaving stray strands on your head. She grins at you, all wide and wild. “Where’s he been hiding ya, huh, kid?”

“Somewhere in Inazuma.”

She laughs; it sounds like the roaring waves of the ocean. “Thank you. I’ll share it with my crew.” She turns, looking at you over her shoulder. You feel the hair on your arms rise to attention. “Let me know if you need anything, but Kazuha probably will see to it faster than any of us could.”

You’re not exactly sure what she means, though you can pick up on the knowing smirk she throws at your best friend.

“Men, to your posts!” she orders. Kazuha takes it as a cue to take your hand and lead you somewhere far more secluded.

No one’s watching; at least, not to your knowledge. The crew knows well enough they have their own business to attend to, and that no one should be interrupting Kaedehara Kazuha when catching up with his best friend since childhood, you.

Kazuha is a wanderer first and foremost. He does not like to be tied down to one place—he’d itch and wander off if you try to keep him at bay. However, there is one exception; one that has him visiting his homeland whenever he can, even when he is dangerously most sought after. When the wind subsides to a gentle whisper in his ears, the waves are gentle when splashing against the ship, and the crew is fast asleep, Kazuha finds himself stealing glances in the general direction of Inazuma. He knows you’re likely sleeping soundly there, expecting him.

This is what gets him to bring home whatever he may find along the way just to give them to you. If anyone asks, Kazuha would reply with a vague: “For someone special to me, in my land of birth.” Anyone would have guessed that, though, given the assortment of flowers Kazuha never fails to bring home.

You find yourself swaying back and forth along with the ship, your mouth running miles per minute as you talk to him on and on about how you’ve never been to Liyue before and your hands are shaking from excitement—or perhaps nerves, and how is Kazuha looking so calm and why is he smiling at you weirdly?

Kazuha has that fond look in the crinkle of his eyes. “Are you certain you’re not feeling sick? Lightheaded?”

Although the heavy rocking of the ship is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, you only feel the anticipation. Thrill. You’ve seen glimpses of Liyue from the letters Kazuha sends; you’re positive nothing can compare to the real deal, and that is what has you giddy, kicking your legs against the wood.

The early morning air crept beneath your clothes and left a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You shudder; Kazuha leans against you, the warmth of his body relaxing you immediately.

The world falls completely silent as you gaze at him.

“Kazuha,” you breathe out, eyes round with wonder, “thank you for taking me with you.” Kazuha goes still as you brush a stray of hair away from your face a little shyly. “It probably doesn’t mean much because you’re always traveling, and it’s probably such a hassle to be my tour guide, but I’m—mmph.”

The rest of your words are swallowed by Kazuha’s lips, and you, undoubtedly silenced by the press of his soft lips against yours. You have your eyes wide open, frozen as you watch the sunrise from the horizon over Kazuha’s shoulder, casting him an unreal golden glow.

Kazuha quickly pulls back and looks as startled as you feel. The kiss was about half a second, and it took nearly a minute for the both of you to process what had just happened.

He frowns, though it doesn’t feel directed at you. “Sorry,” he says slowly, as though he’s just been brought back up from underwater. “That was—”

“It’s fine,” you blurt, hoping the sunrise would disguise your stunned expression. “The ship—uh, it’s swaying pretty hard. You probably lost balance or something.” However, speaking it aloud sounds wrong. Kazuha just doesn’t lose balance: he’s the most seasoned samurai you’ve met in your life.

Then again, that would leave an empty room of explanation, one of which you’d rather not set foot in.

“Yes.” The sunrise has Kazuha looking a little pink. Or should it be orange? “Allow me to fetch us a bottle of water. You might get seasick.”

“Sure,” you murmur, though it’s lost to the howl of the wind as Kazuha swiftly jumps down, his Vision glowing on his back. The sensation in your stomach doesn’t seem like seasickness.

He doesn’t talk about it, so you don’t bring it up.

The second time happens in public.

The moment you set foot in Liyue Harbor, Kazuha realizes he must reach for your wrist to prevent you from straying and getting lost. You dart from one corner to the next, exploring every stall, even stray dogs and running children.

“Liyue feels so…warm.”

It could be the orange glow of their lights, painting over the region with an unbeatable shade and atmosphere, perfectly replicating what it would be like sitting across a fireplace. Or it could be Kazuha’s hand intertwined with yours.

“Hearing that relieves me,” Kazuha admits, pulling you to the side as two men pushing crates on wheels rush past. “You are often unpredictable in what you like and dislike.”

You laugh, “Were you worried that you overhyped it? You tend to be descriptive with what you write back to me—what was it? The flavorful aroma coming from street vendors, the squeals of youth whistling past, the seagulls, and the waves of the ocean audible even amidst the bustling crowds… I can see it.”

“You remember all of that?” Kazuha looks adorable when bashful.

The sun is already at its highest peak. Sweat has started to form around your hairline; Kazuha had to buy you popsicles, which you got from the Wanmin Restaurant. The popsicle is entirely blue, nearly translucent, and tastes like eating just ice, but it effectively cools you down. Kazuha doesn’t appear bothered by the heat in the slightest, going as far as to insist on carrying all the souvenirs you’ve been purchasing.

He has only one arm full, though. The other is free and linked with yours.

“You didn’t tell me one important thing, though,” you say.

Kazuha blinks once, then furrows his brows. “What is it?” He looks sincerely worried.

“You didn’t tell me you’re famous,” you tease, nudging a red-faced Kazuha with your elbow. “Oh, it’s Kaedehara, you’re back! And here I thought you were like a celebrity in Inazuma. You might just be well-loved everywhere.” Well, who could blame them? You’re no better than the people of Teyvat.

He shakes his head. “Far from it,” he insists, ever the modest guy. “I just happen to be caught up with The Crux.”

“Those ladies seem to disagree. They were trying to impress you, you know.”

Kazuha shifts uncomfortably, his face a funny shade of pink. “I did not pay close enough attention. I apologize.”

A laugh escapes you, in disbelief. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

“I did not realize you were the jealous type.”

You gawk at his words, spinning around to see that a hint of something smug playing on his lips. “That’s not—You… shut up. I’m not.”

Kazuha opens his mouth to say something stupid to fluster you probably, but you’re quicker. You retrieve a container wrapped in plastic, its surface moist from the steam within. Kazuha falls silent, his watchful gaze fixed on you as you unwrap it, his nose undoubtedly detecting a familiar and enticing aroma.

“This is…” Kazuha picks one stick up and observes it. “Mondstadt Grilled Fish.”

“Yes,” you say, grinning proudly. “One of your favorites. You sent me the recipe last year, remember? Kept practicing it for this moment.”

But Kazuha’s heavy gaze is not on the food, but on you, an unreadable emotion clouding his eyes. The tension disappears when he smiles and takes a bite. You watch him enjoy his food in peace, belatedly deciding to do the same. You know you did good but Kazuha didn’t have to look like he’s in bliss, eyes closed and everything.

“Thank you,” he says. “You keep surprising me. This was meant to be a day for you.”

“You here with me is enough to make all my days,” you say, mouth full of fish grilled to perfection. Embarrassingly enough, there are crumbs that spew out. You take another big bite, crumbs of it sticking to the sides of your mouth.

You must look a little stupid, tucked in some corner of Liyue, standing next to Kazuha and eating grilled fish silently.

Your field of vision is abruptly engulfed by Kazuha's face. You have barely time to react, your body falling still as your attention is swallowed by the red of his eyes, which are focused on your mouth. You feel warmth press against the side of your mouth, your heart leaping to your throat at the sensation.

“Sorry,” he says, not looking at all sorry. “You had crumbs on your face.” Which does not explain why he has to kiss it off, but it was at this moment that you understand. Kazuha doesn’t lose balance and doesn’t do anything by mistake.

The dam crumbles.

The third happens when the night is creeping in on your first day, in some inn you didn’t bother looking at, too caught up in the way Kazuha is grinning at you in his own Kazuha-way: all soft and sweet.

“I can’t… believe—how long?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” he murmurs, closing the door behind you. “It wasn’t a grand revelation that happened one night. It just felt as if it was the only explanation.” His eyes flicker to you, keeping your faces close enough to where your noses are touching. He’s waiting for an answer.

“I had a crush on you the moment we met,” you confess, face hot. “And then it never went away, even when you had to leave. Distance makes the heart grow fonder or whatever.”

Kazuha’s smile tips on something a little more sly. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, then.”

Years and years of longing for Kazuha, rereading each and every one of his letters, and cherishing every second of when he comes to visit—all of it’s more than worth it if it led you here, in a secluded room, sharing hushed whispers with the boy you’ve wanted all your life.

“So… what are we—”

You’re rudely interrupted by Kazuha pecking your lips.

You frown. “Hey, wait, I’m—mmph—trying to—Kazuha!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he tugs you to his chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Sorry,” he murmurs again, but he’s leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw, smiling against your skin as you shiver.

“It’s okay,” you whisper in the quiet of the night, in the steady silence occasionally broken by the beating of your hearts. “It was an accident.”

“Mm,” he hums, nodding. “An accident.”

You stare at each other for a pregnant pause.

“This one isn’t, though,” Kazuha says and dives in for a kiss that leaves you breathless, years and years of buried feelings pouring over.

this was supposed to be for kazuha’s bday but i couldn't finish it in time :(!!! belated happy birthday to the greenest flag ever <3

[the-s1lly-corner]

Ej, Lj, Masky, Hoodie, Masky, Ticci Toby and Bloody Painter x reader who draws them

Prize 5/5 for @reivelmin !! I hope you've enjoyed all of your prizes WOOHOO!! I had a blast writing them, hardly ever get the excuse to write for some of these characters EHEHEHEHE

EYELESS JACK

I've always headcanoned that Jack was always a bit of an artist himself, although the most he does it sketch every now and then to keep his kind busy. He points out some techniques he recognizes and asks you about it. It.. actually takes him a moment to realize that all of the drawings are him. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head before he tries to move on. This opens the window for the two of you to draw together every now and then.. though jack is always a little embarrassed.. flustered.. with the knowledge that you have so much of him in your book

LAUGHING JACK

Very loud when saying he loves it. Hes flipping through the pages before pausing, looking you dead in the eye. He makes a comment about how you must be soooooo obsessed with him. Hes teasing you, of course! He offers to draw you in return.. though dont expect anything crazy, Jack's not.. the best artist- and hes okay with that! Loves looking through your art whenever you offer it. Would kick his feet in the air while looking through the pages. Sometimes you give him sketches to color, to keep him busy while you have to go do something

MASKY

He already knew what you were drawing him before you ever have the chance to show him. The man is silent and is constantly keeping an eye on you.. he does NOT know how to be a normal roommate!! You probably dont get the chance to show him yourself, because he points at a stray pencil marking that you forgot to erase. Worst jumpscare of your life, if you werent already aware of his presence in the room... he.. actually gives a thumbs up. Which doesnt seem like much but considering that he doesnt really emote, that's a huge thing... now does he think it's a little odd that you have a bunch of sketches where hes the reference? A little, but he does offer some good poses and lighting due to him tending to lurk in the shadows

HOODIE

Very similar to Masky but at least he pretends to not know. You walk up to him with your sketchbook and hes so obviously playing dumb but its.. sweet that hes pretending. He takes his time looking through all of the art, where some of the others get too excited and flip through it all. He doesnt talk, but he does communicate that he thinks it all looks great via sign.. oh he would definitely start leaving sticky notes with doodles around for you to find

TICCI TOBY

I think Toby would be a little overwhelmed, he didnt think anyone would be interested in him enough to want to fill an entire sketchbook with him. He tries to cover up his shock by lightly making fun of the situation. Though every tease he tries to draw out falls flat, as everytime he goes to poke fun of something about the art he trails off. Besides, he couldn't bring himself to actually make fun of the stuff you make.. if it's a gift, you offer to take it back but he quickly shuts that down. Its like the Bob's burger friendship bracelet audio, "no fuck off its mine"

BLOODY PAINTER

As an artist himself, he asks you about what materials you used as well as the techniques you used! Unlike EJ, Helen is more thorough in his questioning and knows a lot more fancy terms.. he points out the good parts of your pieces, and catches himself before giving his criticisms.. he at least makes sure that the criticism is wanted before just unloading (and even then hes constructive! Hes well aware that just dunking on someone does nothing to help them grow). It actually strikes his ego a lot that you would dedicate so much time and material to just him, and it inspires him to make something for you in return. If he didnt know you were an artist prior to this, he offers to paint with you.. whether as a collab or just simply working parallel to one another! Just please pay no mind to him staring at you more intently while hes at his canvas...!

[peterparkersnose]

Give In

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: suicidal thoughts, pining possibly one sided, ANGST (just a large angst piece, i wanted some joel angst so I made it), description of depression, emotional dependency on a person, arguing, fluff sprinkled in, implied age gap not specified, reference to pregnancy, mentions of substance and alcohol abuse, joel is lowkey toxic and uses reader

a/n hi loves I wrote this after the first episode aired, so if anything contradicts anything in the future in this story that is why. also, i didnt know how to end it so im sorry if the ending is a bit choppy. happy last of us sunday!

summary Y/N has feelings for Joel that she can’t control anymore

Part 2 here

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 8 min 33 seconds

The harsh chill of the autumn afternoon swept your hair off your shoulders. The ration line was as long as ever, but seemed to be moving quickly. A stray dog barked as others murmured on the street. Staring down at your boots, you bit at your chapped lips.

“You’ve been avoiding me,”

His voice sent chills up your spine. He was behind you, must have slipped in line without the other person noticing. Of course now was the time he decided to confront you. And he wasn’t wrong.

Straightening your back, you turn towards him.

“Have I?” you asked, raising your eyebrows slightly. The line moved forward and so did you.

“Tess said you weren’t feeling well.”

She was partially right. It was the blatant lie you were telling the very few who were close to you. You were physically fine.

“I’m fine, Joel.” you said promptly, turning a cold shoulder to the older man.

“If you need any meds or anything…” he began. You knew Joel had anything you needed. Quite literally.

“Next!” The FEDRA soldier called, motioning for you to get in the final line. You gave Joel a tight lipped smile before disappearing in the crowd.

Back at your sad excuse for an apartment, you poked your fork at your stale meal. You tried to think about todays’s job but the thought of Joel Miller consumed you.

How his hands felt on your skin, how soft his hair could be, how much he respected you in private. Flashbacks of previous nights where he had snuck over and stayed with you burned in your brain.

You never thought the hookup would turn in to feelings. Especially in this world. Feelings you were sure he wouldn’t reciprocate. Joel wasn’t a very emotionally available man. And he had Tess- rumors of them being together had been going on for years. Sure, they deny it. But you see the way he looks at her sometimes. His eyes burn with the lust you want from him, but there staring at her.

Tess was friendly and all, you got along quite well with her in fact. Jobs worked with Tess usually went better than others. But the knowledge that she goes home to him every night almost ate you alive. You felt used every time you would watch her turn the alleyway to their apartment.

Roommates my ass.

It had been over a month since the last time you saw Joel.

He was right, you were avoiding him. Taking the jobs you knew he wouldn’t dare go by such as childcare. Taking a different route home to avoid any run ins. Leaving your lights off and sitting in the dark to possibly deter him away from your place. All your little queues worked.

And the pain grew day by day.

You layed in your mattress with your face buried in your pillow. It stopped smelling like him weeks ago, but you liked to pretend it still did.

You couldn’t live like this anymore.

Pills weren’t numbing enough. Alcohol wasn’t as fun as it used to be. The constant state of depression in this damned district was enough to make you want to end it.

But seeing him across the alleyway talking to a group of people or in the line for rations was enough to keep that tiny spark lit inside of you.

There wasn’t much else to look forward to in this world besides others. Living the same day your whole life is miserable without your spark of joy in it.

Sleep was close, you could feel it. Your thin blankets were just cutting it for the night. As the dreams began to dance in your head, you were awoken by a quiet knock on your door.

“For fucks sake,” you groaned, flipping over in bed. You ignored the knocks. They became more persistent.

The old doorknob then dropped to the floor, startling you awake. You didn’t even have to guess who it was. The door slowly creaked open as you heard him curse to himself.

“I’ll fix it later,” he sighed, picking it off your floor and placing it on your countertop. He pushed one of your folding chairs next to your table up against the door to keep it sturdy.

“So your just breaking into apartments now?” you snapped, sitting up right in bed. “I needed to see you.” he protested.

“I never knew Joel Miller to need anything.”

He sighed and rested against your countertop. “I need to know,”

“Know what?” you asked, wrapping a blanket around your exposed shoulders. A tank top wasn’t ideal to sleep in, in these conditions.

“What’s wrong.” he said bluntly. “I said there’s nothing wrong. What the hell are you doing walking around freely at night?” you yelled, realizing the time was way past midnight. The sounds of soldiers a few floors down outside your apartment began to yell. How did he move past them?

“You sick?” he asked in a more hushed tone, walking towards you. “Respiratory? Head pain? Joints? You pregnant?” he somewhat joked, looking over you in bed.

“Shut up.” you said coldly. “Can you please just go?”

You knew Joel wasn’t a good listener. “What is it?” he said sternly, sitting down next to your body in bed. He grabbed your wrist ever so slightly. Your pulse was shaking in his grasp.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You looked at the other side of your apartment, out the window. Rain had began to slowly plague the window. Ignoring Joel’s touch, you watched as the few drops raced to the bottom of the window.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” Joel sighed, not letting go of you.

“Stop, please. J-just stop talking to me.” you said, lying through your teeth. He could sense the pain hiding behind those eyes. “I’m not leaving.” he protested.

“Look at me.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were locked on yours. A genuine worried look was on his face. He looked softer, nothing like you had ever seen before.

It was almost as if someone asked you if you were okay when you were very obviously not. Silent tears rolled down your face as you tried to catch your breathe.

The man who you couldn’t love was staring in to your soul. There was no way you ever could love him. He was too mean, too stern, too old, too angry for you. The two of you were polar opposites. But as the saying goes, ‘opposites attract’.

Joel was unsure on what to do. Tess never cried. Hell, you never cried. He racked his brain for something, just something to soothe you.

He offered out a hand. Against your better judgement you took it. Connecting his other hand to your cheek, he tried to wipe away the streak of tears silently leaving your eyes. He held you tightly in your bed, stroking your hair as your head quickly made contact with the crook of his neck.

“I wish I didn’t have these feelings,” you cried into his embrace. Joel was confused on what you were getting at, but he ignored it. He tried to shush you in a soothing way.

“No, please. I wish I didn’t have these feelings… but I do.”

Joel froze. “What?” he asked, holding you in place.

You pulled back and looked at him. It felt like the first time over again. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel a thing.” you hiccupped.

“I…” Joel sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and letting a breathe of air go.

“Say it.” you demanded.

The silence in the room was deafening.

“I can’t.” Joel said quickly. He looked down at his knees on your mattress.

“I think you should go.” you sighed, laying back on your side and facing the opposite wall.

He listened. Finally, Joel caught a hint. The sound of him walking away made you long for him more than ever. But it was good. The feeling of him leaving, knowing you were right. Joel Miller wasn’t a man who could love. At least not anymore.

Your sudden pride stopped when you heard his boots thud against the floor. Then the all familiar zip of his jeans followed by the hit of him placing them on your wooden chair next to your bed.

He rested a hand on your thigh as he peeled up the blanket that was stuck to your legs. Slowly, he moved down next to you in the tiny space you were leaving him.

“You don’t listen.” you huffed, still not giving him enough space on the bed.

“When do I ever?” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Fuck it. You gave in.

You allowed his arm to move closer to the underside of your breasts. Scooting over in bed, you gave him more space for his legs to entwine with you. His boxer’s material rubbed against the back of your thigh. It smelt like him; Wet grass and expired generic soap scent had never smelt better.

Sleep kindly greeted you once you felt his breathing slow. Trying to match his, you fell into the deep sleep you had been yearning for, for what seemed like weeks.

-

The absence in the morning was startling.

You struggled to move, hoping that the previous night was just a horrifying dream. A sigh escaped from your lips when you saw his boots sitting against the wall where he placed them last night.

The clanking sound of tools made you turn. On the other side of your small studio apartment, there he sat at your doorframe attempting to fix your door handle.

The overcast sky stayed, but you could tell it was early morning by the chatter outside.

“Shit!” Joel hissed, grabbing his finger in pain. “Damn fucking…”

He looked up and noticed you watching him.

“You alright?” you asked, watching him in amusement as he attempted to fix your door.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, sucking the tip of his finger. “Haven’t fixed a door in a good twenty years.” he muttered, wiping off the excess blood on his already dirtied jeans.

“Go back to bed, It’s still early.” he suggested, going through the tiny tool kit he had given you as a previous gift.

“This is more entertaining than sleep,” you chuckled, placing your feet on the cold ground and getting out of bed. “You want any breakfast? I don’t know if I have anything good here but…”

“Nah. Tess’l be expecting me.”

The sheer thought of Tess waiting at their home for him was enough to ruin the whole night you had before.

Joel looked up to you after your lack of a response. He noticed the demeanor change in your face. “Everything okay?” he asked, turning back to the doorknob he was almost finished fixing.

“You seem to go sour every time I mention Tess.”

“I wonder why,” you muttered under your breathe, attempting to open a tuna can for breakfast. You tried not to dry heave as the scent of the old fish met your nose. Tuna was never a favorite meal, especially for breakfast. But, it’s all you had.

Joel pretended like he didn’t hear you, but he heard you loud and clear. “We have a run to do today. You understand that, right?”

A bitter ‘mhm’ came from your lips as you shook the prepackaged coffee in your hand before ripping off the seal.

Joel sighed and placed the screw driver down dramatically. Joel’s knees cracked as he got up from his position. “You always gotta fucking act jealous. Don’t you? Ruinin’ a nice morning.”

“Jealous?” you said, raising your voice.

“What the hell do you even want from me?” you scorned, on the brink of tears. He could see through you like glass. You hated to admit it, but he knew you like the back of his hand.

Joel wished he could shout out the answer, but his ego kept it in.

You froze with your back turned to him and set down the brittle coffee mug. “Your always leaving me to go to her…”

“Because we’re business partners, Y/N. Don’t you get it? Don’t you hate livin’ the same damn day over and over again? It’s why I come to see you.”

“Stop,” you whispered, now face to face with him. “Stop yelling. Please, it’s too fucking early to get into that shit.”

“Really? Tell me you don’t loose your mind living the same day, same drama for years!” he yelled. “Always you being jealous. Don’t you ever get sick of it?”

Anger consumed you. Proof that the two of you would never work. He’s just a bitter old man.

“You know I would give anything to leave this damn QZ! To live a normal life, not fucking be here.” you yelled, with a finger now pointed at his face. You were avoiding the original accusation. Jealousy.

“Tell me.” you said, with a quieter but angrier tone. “Am I really just your fuck toy?”

Joel stepped back for a moment, stunned at what you just said. Guilt seemed to wrack his nerves as the realization hit him.

You were in love with him.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, approaching you with a sorrowful more soft look. “What else am I supposed to think? You come here, use me, and leave and go back to her.”

The feeling of letting go of all that emotion felt healing. The sudden aftermath of realizing what you just had accused him of made you feel somewhat guilty.

“No,” he sighed, grabbing your hand. “That- no. Absolutely not Y/N.”

His other hand reached for your chin, and brought your face up to his gaze. You could feel his heat on your skin.

“Understand…” he began to say. “Understand what?” you whispered back. A sly smile came to his lips.

“Give in,” he whispered, dropping your hand and wrapping his around your waist.

You melted into his grasp as he kissed you. Joel hadn’t kissed anyone in years. The hesitation from him only brought out the dominance in you.

As the two of you mutually pulled away, you wanted nothing more as to be back where you were just seconds ago.

“Understand that it’s hard.” he said, still holding you close. “I…”

“I know.” you said, cutting off his words.

You were an anxious, sorrowful over-thinker and he was the bitter, closed off introvert.

“I’ll be back,” he said, with a slighter more chipper tone. “Tonight. We have to get this damn car battery and…”

“Stay safe,”

“I promise.” Joel said. He really did not want to leave you. The thought of the two of you spending today lazily in bed was very tempting.

“But please believe me Y/N when I say, you are and never have been just a ‘fuck toy’.”

He squeezed your hand once more and then dropped it. Silence filled the apartment after he left.

The thought of how you tasted haunted Joel Miller’s mind the whole day.

Part 2

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25

[bumblesimagines]

Headcanon:

Both Neytiri and Jake liking you

Request: Yes or No

Sorry for the sudden absence! I will try to get When Fire Meets Fate out soon

~~~

You'd met Jake at the compound with Grace introducing you as his babysitter. The chuckle that had escaped you at her words made his skin flush

However, there were some truth to her words. You never allowed Jake to stray far and always kept him within view. It had made Jake feel like a child at first but he grew to find comfort in your stare and even felt uneasy when he didn't feel your eyes on it

Along with the uneasiness was this prick of neediness. A desire to have your attention on him at all times

And his desire had been fulfilled the first few days on Pandora. You were his teacher along with Grace and Norm. You taught him about Pandora, the dos and don'ts, and the little knowledge you had about the Na'vi

Despite your lessons Jake still managed to get himself in trouble with the thanator and separated from you and the others

When he returned- his avatar tucked away safely with the Na'vi to Grace's relief- he met your eyes first and gleefully smile, ready to tell you all about his meeting with the Na'vi clan

While you were glad to see him fine, you still smacked the back of his head (not that it did much considering he laughed afterward)

His encounters were amazing for Grace to hear and he often found himself in your room retelling the story with all the tiny details. You were easy to talk to and it helped him feel more comfortable with his new life

He kept his meetings with Colonel Quaritch a secret however. You and Grace were close as you had been assigned as a soldier for her team and your dislike for the man who was still essentially your boss was apparent

But, regardless of secrets, he certainly didn't keep you from Neytiri. His evolving friendship with the fiery native had gotten to the point where he felt comfortable talking to her about things, including you

And Neytiri was curious, albeit still hesitant on meeting another soldier given everything the humans did, but still curious enough to convince her parents to allow both Grace and you to meet her people (much to the delight of Jake)

Her ears twitched and turned, listening to the sound of the chopper flying away. She could feel the excitement oozing of Jake in waves and a small smile tugged at her blue lips as she glanced at him. Jake's eyes lit up as you pushed through the brush, Grace following close behind you.

"Good to finally see this guy again." You grinned at him and Jake's tail twitched and lashed from contained happiness. Neytiri met Grace's gaze first and exchanged a fond look with her, the memories of their time together before the school had shut down still fresh in their minds. Sylwanin would've been pleased to see her again.

"You know Grace." Jake turned his head to look at Neytiri, motioning to the older woman before he lifted his hand in your direction. "This is (Y/N)."

"I've heard much about you." Neytiri spoke, eyeing the gun in your hands. Without looking away from her, you shifted the gun and allowed it to rest against your back and out of view. You made no attempt to greet her with a handshake and instead gave a small nod.

"All good things, I hope." You smiled and she relaxed. You had a warm air about you, one that calmed her. While your ears twitched at every sound and your eyes occasionally flickered about, you weren't as tense or jumpy as the other humans she'd seen. Calm yet alert. You'd fit in fine with her people, she could tell already.

Much to the surprise of her parents and Tsu'tey, you had given up your gun without any complaint. This willingness had caused Mo'at and Eytukan to share an approving look

While you'd been more than happy to learn the language and culture, you'd been more apprehensive about exchanging your clothes for a loincloth. You'd already teased Jake about his enough, you didn't want to tables turned which did disappoint Jake in the slightest.

After moving to a spot in the Hallelujah Mountains, you and Jake were able to spend even more time together

Of course with him focusing more on his life with the Na'vi it meant he forgot to do things like eat, drink, and overall take care of himself

When it got to a worrying point, you backed him in a corner and essentially spoon fed him until he caught the hint. Although it took a bit since he got a fluttery feeling when he realized you were taking care of him in such a domestic way and didn't want it to stop

Back with the Na'vi, Neytiri had quickly warmed up to you, much faster than it'd taken for her to warm up to Jake

You were more observant and a quick learner so you learned the language quick meanwhile Jake still had trouble speaking it

And of course, you'd finally given in to the loincloth after much consideration

"Oh, well look at you!" Grace called in a teasing tone, laughing when you grumbled in return. Neytiri and Jake turned in your direction upon hearing her voice, eyes zoning in on you immediately.

"This is..." You huffed softly, skin flushing as you crossed your arms over your chest. You hadn't been this exposed to the world since the day you left the womb. Your pressed lied flat against your chest, lips pulled into a cute scowl and tail lashing wildly behind you.

"You look fine." Neytiri spoke first, rising from her hunches and approaching you with a small smile. Jake took a moment as he studied the details of your body, committing everything to memory before you could regret the decision and return to your shirt and cargo pants.

"Y-Yeah! You look great, (Y/N)." Jake agreed, rising as well and grinning widely. "I think it's about time you start hunting."

"I believe you'd take to a bow easily. You've got strong arms, good eyes." Neytiri pressed her hands to your abdomen and inhaled deeply, nodding her head for you to mimic her. You did so and she hummed in approval, hands lingering before they dropped to her sides.

"If Jake of all people can do it, I'm sure I'll do fine." You replied, hearing Neytiri giggle and Jake huff playfully.

Despite having little interest in joining her clan, Neytiri insisted on teaching you to hunt. It began with instructing you on how to hold a bow

She was gentler with you than she was with Jake- something he picked up on- but she was regardless strict and firm though she rarely lost her patience as she had with Jake

Neytiri admired your openness to learning the way of her people. Jake had been open but stubborn in letting go of the human way resulting in his training taking longer than yours

The clan had been more accepting of you as well, with even Tsu'tey keeping his comments solely directed at Jake instead both you and him

The more time you spent with Jake and Neytiri, the more they grew attached. You didn't get much time alone as the two always found you somehow, always following and watching

So, when you inevitably caught the eye of another Na'vi, the two noticed immediately

Running your fingers over the arch of the training bow, you narrowly missed the shadow that fell over you. Tilting your head up, you rose to your full height and offered the woman a smile.

"(Y/N)." Ninat greeted, lifting her fingers to her forehead and lowering her hand. While you had only seen her in passing, her voice demanded attention during ceremonies. It carried over the others, powerful and beautiful. "I've heard you've taken well to the bow."

Neytiri watched from her spot beside Jake, fingers remaining on her forearm as she studied you and Ninat. Jake took notice, lowering his arms and nearly letting the arrow slip from his fingers. He curiously followed her gaze and felt his stomach twist. Ninats' body language as she spoke to you made her intentions obvious. She was flirting. With you.

Neytiri broke away from Jake, reaching you in a couple quick strides. Jake stumbled after her, slipping the bow over his shoulder and clearing his throat to grab your attention.

"Hey, you two." You greeted casually and Ninat released an unsatisfied hum, greeting Neytiri in typically Na'vi fashion.

"You're ready to hunt, (Y/N). Come, you must track-"

"I could accompany him. JakeSully will need you for training."

"Nonsense." Neytiri sharply turned toward her. Ninat lowered her ears, holding Neytiri's gaze for a few seconds before she looked away, murmuring a farewell to you.

"I'm sure she could've-" You clamped your mouth shut when Neytiri turned her glare onto you.

"Come, you both must prove yourselves." Neytiri muttered bitterly, glancing in Ninats direction before she stalked off.

Neytiri's foul mood had disappeared after you and Jake successful completed your hunt and it was instead replaced with pride

Jake had beamed and boasted about it to Norm whilst you watched, chuckling along and eating a meal. Jake felt proud, not only proud that he had his first kill but proud of you too

Climbing up the Hallelujah Mountains to reach ikran territory had been a challenge and Jake had made sure to check on you every few minutes, anxiety gripping his mind the higher up they went until they reached ikran territory

Neytiri felt confident in your abilities along w Jake's so when she arrived, she addressed you both with reassuring smiles and explained what needed to be done in order to claim an ikran. You and Jake exchanged a look upon hearing how the ikrans chose their riders

Nevertheless, you and Jake were successful again. Jake had gone first, struggling and nearly being thrown off the side of the mountain but he'd gotten their queues together and took off into the skies with a surprised shout. Neytiri waited for you to tame a ikran before taking to the skies, showing her pride through shouts and vocal calls

Not long after, she gleefully led you and Jake to a place she called the Tree of Voices. It lived up to its names when you were able to hear the voices of past Na'vi upon connecting your queue to it

And then, Neytiri revealed another thing...

"You may make your bow from the wood of Hometree." She murmured, the blissful look on her face disappearing. "And you may choose a mate."

"A mate?" You repeated, disconnecting your queue from the vines and blinking at her. Jake's lips parted and he glanced between you and Neytiri. The woman turned her back to you, gazing up at the sky.

"We have many good men and women. Strong, loyal... Good hunters and fighters."

"And what if I don't want just one?" Jake questioned softly and Neytiri looked over her shoulder at him, ears perking up. Jake swallowed and met your curious gaze.

"Who do you want, Jake?" You asked softly.

"Neytiri." Jake answered and she smiled fondly. "And you."

[nickfowlerrr]

for the hope of it all.

pairing: greedy!lee bodecker x curvy!reader

warnings: angst. bit of fluff. mentions of reader x arvin and lee x wife. little flashback to pregnant reader. uhhh, there’s a baby. if i’m missing something important please feel free to let me know.

also lmk if i should tag this as dark!lee please bc i can’t decide if it needs it or not.

words: 3.2k

notes: my first written fic for my writing event. i spun the wheel and got greed and then spun another wheel and got lee and a few hours later here we are lol. please let me know what you think! comments and feedback are so, so appreciated. thank you in advance to everyone who reads and reblogs. 🖤

“Please, Lee. Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the desperate plea as the stray tear you’d been fighting to keep at bay finally slipped down your cheek.

You were quick to wipe it away, shaking your head and looking away from the gaze of the man before you. The smirk that graced his face was the whole reason you had refused to let yourself cry, despite wanting to break down the moment he’d knocked on your door.

You’d just set Teddy in his crib, watching him a moment as the newborn slept peacefully, his tiny breaths and little movements making your heart clench.

You never knew you could love someone so much until you had him. Despite the pain and all the hardships that you’d faced from the day you met his daddy, as you watched Theodore, you were sure you wouldn’t change any of it if it meant never having had him.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard a car pull up the drive. You didn’t check the window, sure you knew who it was already as you went to greet him.

Before you were even halfway down the steps, an unnecessarily loud pounding sounded from the front door.

You were startled for a second, brows furrowing as you rushed down the last few steps to open it before whoever it was could pound again and wake the baby.

You were sure now, though, it definitely wasn’t Arvin. He’d never be so careless to knock that loudly, even if he’d left his key and was locked out.

When you pulled the door open in a bit of a huff, your breath froze in your chest.

As you met the hard blue eyes of the man you’d been avoiding for the past 11 months, you weren’t sure what to do. So, you stayed as you were, blocking his view of the house as you pulled the door more closely to your body and watched him. You wouldn’t speak first. You weren’t sure you could.

“Been a while, darlin’.” He greeted, though his words were cold and stiff, as if he was trying to hold in the anger you could see raging in his eyes.

You swallowed hard. “How can I help you, Sheriff?” you asked, ignoring his comment.

He scoffed as he looked down on you. “That’s how you wanna do this, sugar? Fine,” he said before shoving his way into the house.

You were in shock as he pushed past you, your first instinct to yell at him was held back by the knowledge that your baby was asleep just up the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just barge in here because you’re police,” you nearly seethed as you follow him while he walked further in, going toward the kitchen while he looked around the place.

He spun on you at your words and stopped you in your spot. “Honey, I can do whatever the hell I want. Because I’m the sheriff,” he snarled in your face before he backed up just the slightest. He adjusted his belt as he stood to his full height and licked his teeth, trying to compose himself.

“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you, sweetheart,” he started, your heart dropping instantly. “That boyfriend a’yours seems to have gotten himself into some trouble downtown.”

Your mouth went dry as you stared at him dumbly. “No,” you shook your head. “Arvin wouldn’t do anything to get into any kind of trouble. What are you- what are you talking about?” you tried to stay calm, but the stutter was surely telling enough.

“Down at the shop,” he began, taking his time, seemingly enjoying the sight of your anxiousness written all over your face, “he had some words with Levi. Guess the kid made a comment about his girl. Imagine my surprise to find out that girl was you,” he detoured.

“What happened,” you asked pointedly, all while trying to keep your composure and your voice down.

“Well, Mr. Russell didn’t take too kindly to the things Levi said. Lost his temper. I’ll spare you the details, sweetheart. Long story short, Levi’s up at the hospital. Your little boyfriend is up at the jailhouse, waitin’ for his hearin tomorrow mornin’.”

You felt sick. This wasn’t Arvin’s first time in jail but you remember what he told you last time, the judge said one more strike and he’d be taken to county. Arvin wasn’t a bad man. He was one of the best men you’d ever known. But he did have a bit of a short fuse when it came to defending the people he loved. You’d known that since you were in school together. It was one of the things you’d always admired about him..

The one thing you were confused about right now though, was why in the hell Lee was here telling you this.

“Is he okay?” you asked quietly. The narrowing of Lee’s eyes as he looked at you, and the tick of his jaw at your question had your stomach twisting.

“Aw, ain’t that sweet. Look at you, all worried about him.”

“Lee,” you said.

“He’ll be fine,” he gruffed as he went into your fridge and took one of Arvin’s beers. You were in too much of a stupor to do or say anything about it, though.

As you watched him take a swig, your eyes finally fell on his bloodied knuckles.

You took a step back, as if he’d slapped you, somehow knowing exactly how he'd done that.

“What did you do?” you said, accusingly as you reached out and held onto the wall beside you.

“Told ya' I was surprised to hear the girl he was so concerned with, whose honor he needed to protect so badly, was you. I thought you were long gone, sweetheart. But when your name came up, I knew I’d been wrong. Knew you were somewhere out here. Took a bit to finally get him to tell me where you were, but,” he flexed his hand, “they all break in the end.”

You were seeing red at his words. He'd hurt Arvin, and for what? You couldn't let him do this, couldn't let him get to you so easily.

"You need to leave, Lee. Now. If I wanted you to know where I was, you would've. I told you I wasn't gonna wait around for you. You made your choice. So go," you said firmly as you could manage through your tight throat.

You stayed still as he set the bottle down on the counter, stalking over to you. You only blinked when he was right in front of you as you took a shaky breath in and out.

"My choice was you," he said as he pinned you against the wall, his arms trapping you. But you weren't scared. Just solemn. The hurt that never went away radiating in your soul.

"...No, it wasn't," you refuted, voice quiet as you shook your head, looking him in the eye. "It was the job. It was her. You just wanted me to be your good little whore on the side," you continued, disgusted with him and yourself, thinking about the times you let him touch you. The times you gave yourself to him. You should have known from the beginning. Maybe a part of you always did. The only way you'd get your happily ever after was if Lee chose to give it to you.

Lee Bodecker was a selfish, greedy man. He wanted it all, he didn't want to choose. But he had. Whether he acknowledged it or not, he made his choice. As much as it hurt, you had to accept that it wasn't you.

"You know that ain't fuckin' true," he snarled, holding your chin tightly in his hand as you looked up at him. His voice softened as he looked back at you. "I meant all I said to you, darlin'. I love you," he said as he pressed his forehead to yours. "If you'da just been patient," he breathed hotly, "we'd be together right now. I'da got rid of her, just like I told you I would."

The pain slipping into his voice was like daggers in your heart. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you were always told how gullible you were. Especially with Lee, you'd buy into anything he said if he said it prettily enough.

You had known you had to leave town, get away, or else you'd just run right back to him, or he'd find you and convince you to stay. You told everyone you were leaving, making sure word got around, and it did. He was too preoccupied in his campaign to bother doing anything about it, or maybe he just didn't believe you'd actually go. You weren't sure which it was.

You had enlisted the help of Arvin to assist you in packing, he had always been a good friend to you and wanted to do whatever he could. The last day you were packing away, though, you got another bout of morning sickness in front of him.

It was like Arvin knew before you did that you were pregnant. But he never left. He was there for you. Held you when you cried, assured you everything would be okay as you spilled your heart out to him, telling him everything. Instead of moving out of town like you had planned, you moved in with Arvin.

Time seemed to pass you by so quickly from then on. One day Arvin was holding your hair back for you as you emptied your stomach into his toilet, and the next he was holding your hand as you pushed through tears of pain and heartbreak while you delivered your baby in the next town over.

When the nurse had taken Teddy, you were an inconsolable mess of guilt and heartache. Arvin was right there with you, had been from the very start, but he wasn't Lee.

You were crying because Lee should have been there, should have been the one holding your hand and wiping your tears, you should have told him that you were having his baby. The guilt was crushing. Not only for having kept your pregnancy from him, but because the man who stayed beside you the entire time deserved so much better than a broken girl who was still in love with the man who broke her heart. It wasn't fair to any of you.

And then the nurse came back over, holding a blue swaddled bundle in her arms. You timidly took your baby as she handed him over to you and the second you laid your eyes on him, all thoughts just went away. The only thing you could focus on was this precious little life you held in your arms. And though your tears kept flowing, they were of overwhelming joy as you looked down at your sweet Teddy.

Teddy.

You heard him cry and your eyes went wide as Lee kept his hold on you.

Another cry as you swallowed thickly, sure your face was full of desperation as you surveyed Lee.

His brows furrowed as he looked in the direction of the living room, dropping his hand as he moved closer to the noise.

You scurried past him, stopping him from starting up at the stairs.

"Lee," was all you could manage to say.

He looked at you incredulously. "That a baby cryin' up there?" he asked rigidly.

You couldn't breathe. You didn't know what to do. Your guilt was written clear as day on your face as you pouted at him, watering puppy dog eyes pleading with him, for what you weren't sure.

"I'll say this once, then I'm not gonna be nice about it, darlin'. Either answer me or get outta my way."

Still no words could form on your tongue. When he stepped to get up the stairs, you let him pass you before turning around and quickly following him.

Lee followed the sound of the newborn cries up to the nursery. When he got to the door, you watched as he took a steadying breath before he pushed in, like he was readying himself for the sight he knew he'd be met with.

He walked slowly to the crib where Theodore was laying, crying for attention.

Lee's mouth was agape as he looked down at the baby.

Two pairs of brilliantly blue eyes staring back at one another.

You knew Lee knew instantly, there was no denying it. Teddy was his mini me. He looked exactly like his father.

You watched as Lee carefully reached down and took Teddy in his big arms, holding him safely and smiling down at him as Teddy calmed in his hold.

Your nose was tingling and it took everything in you not to burst into tears at the sight.

"What's his name?" Lee asked in a hushed tone.

"Theodore," you answered just as softly.

Theo's baby garbling had Lee laughing as he cooed down at his son. You swore you could see the gleam in Lee's eyes as he watched him.

After a sniff and a clearing of his throat, Lee's gaze shot back to you. Accusatory and angry, his hurt underlining all of it.

"You had my baby, and were just gonna keep 'im from me?"

"No, no I- I was gonna. Gonna tell you. I wanted to, I just didn't know.." you trailed off, wringing your hands.

"Didn't know what?"

"How," you answered. "Didn't know how to. Didn't know how you'd react. Wasn't entirely sure you'd want to know."

"You think I wouldn't want to know that I have a kid?" he asked harshly. You took a step to him, holding your hand out instinctively to remind him that he had the baby in his arms.

"You're married, Lee. You're holding public office. I know you well enough to know that you don't want anything to mess with that. I don't think having a child with someone other than your wife would be looked on too favorably."

"I told you I'd get rid of her," he said again, lowly. "I will."

"Lee, please," you said, exasperated. "I'm sorry. I am. I should have told you, you had a right to know, but I can't do this with you. That's why I left. I do love you," you said brokenly, "I've never stopped. But I can't live my life just waiting for you to call when you want me. And I won't let you do that to Theo, either. He deserves a father who's around, who puts him as a priority,"

"Oh, and you think he'll have that with Arvin?" he challenged. "I wouldn't be too sure, sweetheart. Those charges really have a way of addin' up. Who knows how long of a sentence he'll be gettin' tomorrow."

You couldn't help but stress at his words. You knew some of what Lee had done before, and you know what he'd be willing to do now, to get his way. If he wanted Arvin put away, there wouldn't be anything you could do to stop it from happening.

You may not have been in love with Arvin, but you did love him. He was your best friend; you don't know what you'd be doing or even where you'd be right now if it weren't for his help and care. He didn't deserve to be punished for your mistakes; you couldn't let that happen.

"Why would you do that?" you asked, hurt lacing your voice. "What do you want from me, Lee?"

"You ain't dumb, honey. You know what I want," he said easily as he rocked Theo lightly while he gripped onto his daddy's finger, his big blue eyes falling closed as he drifted back to his peaceful sleep. Lee's blazing blue orbs met yours once more. "I want you. I want this, all a this with you, and him,” he said, sparing another glance to his baby boy.

“Please, Lee. Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the desperate plea. "You can’t - He needs something stable. Real."

Lee assessed you for a moment before shaking his head with a slight scoff and a smirk. "This is real, darlin'. I'll give you both what you deserve. I just need a little time, that's all," he said as he set Theo back down in the basinet before turning back to you. "Can't make you my wife while I'm still married, but I'll get that taken care of quick. Then you and the baby can get settled in at home, we can finally be together. Just like we always talked about," he continued, taking your hands in his and pulling you in. "Havin' a family," he brought his hand up to tilt your face up to his, brushing his lips against yours. And you let him.

"And it'll be good for reelection next year, too. People like a family man."

You cringed and pulled away at that. At least you tried to, Lee's hold not let you get far at all.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. Come on, you know it'll be good for all of us. We can be happy," he said as his knuckles brushed your cheek.

The touch reminded you, "What about Arvin?"

"What about 'im?" he asked uninterested.

"You'll let him go," you state, grabbing his hand.

"I will," he agrees, "soon as you two are all moved in with me, I'll make sure he's released. Can't have you trying to run off on me again. I won't let you go so easy this time."

You swallowed back the cry that wanted to be let free as you looked at him. You hated that Arvin would have to suffer while you wait on Lee to keep his word. But what else can you do.

"How long?" you ask brokenly, eyes drifting over to the crib. "I can't do this alone."

"Won't be long, sweetheart. She's already been on her way out. A week, two tops. And you won't be alone. If you think for a minute I'd ever not be around for my child, you're outta your mind. If I’d a known sooner, I,” he cut himself off with a shake of his head. “I'll come over every night, check on ya both. You need somethin', you tell me. I'll show you I can take care'a you two better than that boy ever could."

Sweet words. Always so sweet coming from his lips. Your heart aches, for a million different reasons, as you let Lee come closer, pressing his lips to yours before his arms find their way around your frame.

And just like that, after nearly a year of not giving in to the temptation to see him, he has you once more, so easily. He gets what he wants. Just like he always does. Like he always will. You wonder briefly if it will ever be enough. You're not sure you want to know the answer.

"You've got no idea how much I've missed you, darlin'," he whispers against your lips. "Thought about you every damn day."

You feel the tears as they slip down your cheeks, a wave of relief falling over you under his touch, but the guilt still remains... It's just not enough to make you stop him. Not enough to want him to stop.

And the hope for your promised happily ever after renews in your heart. Because maybe you’ll finally get it, just how you pictured, with Lee by your side, starting your own little family.. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Lee Bodecker may be a selfish and greedy man.

But maybe you're no better.

[flannel-cladpika]

Between the Lines of Fear and Blame - Gojo Satoru x GN! Reader

A/N: Inspired loosely by the song “How to Save a Life” by The Fray (hence the title). SLIGHT spoilers for ch.78.

TW: Parental Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Swearing

You hadn't had a good relationship with your father for most of your life.

The man was a well-respected jujutsu sorcerer, having become one of the most powerful special grade sorcerers at a rather young age. He went on to have a highly successful career in saving people and defeating special grade curses.

  He'd met your grade 2 sorcerer mother on a group mission, and they got married a few years later, and they had you about 3 years into their marriage.

The first few years of your life were full of joy and laughter. Your mom taking you to the aquarium while your dad was on a mission; Your dad making you breakfast before walking you to your elementary school; Family outings to the park for picnics. It was the best childhood a kid could ask for.

At least, until a special grade killed your mother when you were 8 years old.

Your father had been away on assignment and had no knowledge of the incident until he returned home.

That day, the loving and kind man you'd always known, vanished. In his place, a bitter and hateful being was left.

Your father immediately started training you to become a jujutsu sorcerer, stating that if you stayed as weak as you were, you'd end up dead just like your mother. The man would drink whenever he could, only ever sobering up just enough to go out on a mission to get paid.

He'd yell at you for every little mistake you made, sometimes even slapping you across the face when you'd done an especially poor job in his eyes. He'd deny you dinner if he deemed your day's performance "not good enough".

Your father's coworkers had no idea what the man was like at home. He would act like a perfect single parent whenever you two were out in public, and he'd trained you well in the art of acting. He'd taught you the correct responses to their questions and how to fake a smile convincingly. He would brag about you inheriting both his and your mother's techniques, boasting about how you would surely become a great jujutsu sorcerer one day.

Everyone always bought his "proud father" act. No one ever suspected a thing, or at least, if they did they never said anything out of fear of your father's power and influence.

When you were able to leave your father's house and attend the Jujutsu high school in Tokyo, it was both freeing and horrifying. 

What if you weren't strong enough? How many meals would you be denied? Would the instructors be upset with your silence like your other school teachers?

To say it took a while for you to trust anyone would be an understatement. What made things worse was that you'd never been allowed to have friends growing up, so you weren't used to having people that you could talk to.

It was nice. Sure, you still carried the mental scars your father left you with, but you had no intention of ever talking about those. You planned on leaving all that trauma and all those horrible memories behind you.

That was, until you met Gojo Satoru.

He was one of your fellow first-years who had a tonne of potential. He and Suguru Getou were both extremely talented, making even some of the most difficult training look easy.

Outside of classes though, they were like regular teenagers; goofing off, playing pranks, and even sneaking out to see the city.

  Some mornings, you'd hear Ieiri groan exasperatedly, to which you would open your dorm door, only to see her throw some poor unsuspecting creature out of her room. They ranged from anywhere from Whip Spiders to Chipmunks. One time, a stray cat was even released into her room (probably Suguru's idea, as Gojo seemed to favour large insects and arachnids), which Ieiri kept around to get rid of anymore random critters that the two boys tried to let loose into her dorm. She named the cat "Hunter". He was a cute little apex predator and protected his domain well.

No one ever tried anything with you though. After you almost had a breakdown  from finding a handful of centipedes in your bed, everyone agreed that you were maybe not a fun person to prank.

Instead, when your peers realized how shy and quiet you were, they tried to break you out of your shell. They would try to be friendly to you, greeting you in the morning and inviting you to have lunch with them, though no one pressured you.

Except Gojo.

The guy was fascinated by you. Here you were, the only offspring of one of the most powerful jujutsu sorcerers, yet you never mentioned your family. Everyone in the jujutsu world (at least in Japan) knew what happened to your mom - it was a big deal at the time and everyone knew to never bring it up - so he understood you not wanting to talk about her, but you never spoke of your father either.

He expected you to be some big shot powerful sorcerer with a boisterous personality and hoped you'd be a great sparing partner. He kind of expected you to be like himself, what with your background and having inherited both your family's techniques. Funnily enough, he only knew about your paternal one, "Eye of Ra", since you bore the same intricate birthmark as your father on your right eye, and your mother’s family hadn’t been as much of a big name as your father’s. He knew your technique allowed you to manipulate light, which meant you could do anything from blinding others to even creating visual illusions. If you wanted to, you could absorb the light in a room and turn it into physical weapons, like create swords of light that could deal physical damage. 

Gojo expected you to be a confident and powerful ass-kicking badass with a take-no-shit attitude that he could riff off of.

But instead, he met you. 

This timid little creature that flinched at the sound of someone raising their voice and who barely ever spoke. You were reluctant to use your powers around others, which baffled the male. Why would you want to hide your powers? Had you not mastered them already? Why would you shy away from others when they got angry? Were you really THAT weak?

Yet, despite appearances, whenever you were sent on a solo mission, you always came back successful and unscathed, even against grade 2 curses. You never boasted about how easy the task was or how great a job you'd done. Instead, you'd just report as was standard protocol, and scurry off to your room without a word to anyone.

Everything about you was just so...unexpected. Gojo had so many questions and no answers, which made him even MORE intrigued.

So, the white-haired male would follow you.

Not in a stalker-y way; he let you know he was there. He'd walk with you around campus, volunteer to be paired with you during one-on-one training, even offer to study with you during breaks. The guy wouldn't leave you alone.

Eventually, Gojo got tired of you turning down his offers to hang-out together and instead would just drag you to wherever he had planned to go. He'd drag you to the library for study sessions, to the city for bubble tea, even out to the movies with snacks hidden in his pockets. He just wanted the chance to observe you and your reactions.

At first, you found his actions to be terrifying. What if he was dragging you away to a place where no one could witness him hurting you? What if he was trying to get you to let your guard down so he could attack you? What if he only wanted to use you to gain your father's favour?

Clearly, your past wasn't behind you.

Gojo was trying to get you to open up so he could learn more about his new favourite fascination, but as he did so, he also slowly began seeing you as a friend. You were a great listener, often sitting through his long rants about everything and nothing. He found it nice to know that you would come to him with questions about curses and normal teenager things. 

He thought it was very odd that you knew almost nothing about regular life as a teen. What rock had you been living under? You hadn't seen any of the latest TV shows, had only seen like 4 movies, and had no idea what a "bff" was, among a long list of other such mundane things that Gojo had assumed everyone his age was aware of. This all only piqued his curiosity further.

After the first few months of Gojo's attempts to get closer to you, you slowly started to become more comfortable around him. Eventually, you got to the point where you were no longer scared to speak your mind with him, which gradually started to apply to others. You began talking more in and outside of class, even asking how other people's days had been (which was a big step for you, as it had previously taken everything in you not to run away whenever someone called out to you).

By the time 2nd year rolled around, you'd managed to gain 3 new friends and a significant confidence boost. It certainly helped that you also decided to stay in Tokyo instead of going back home. Everything was turning out great.

Until your father came to visit for a guest teacher lesson. All that time away from the old man had caused your acting skills to get a little rusty, but you still did your best to act like nothing was wrong, even when you were terrified.

Everyone was in awe of him, after all, he was like a celebrity with how well-known and powerful he was. They were all impressed by his strength and charisma which were on full display when he demonstrated difficult tactics for taking down multiple high-ranked curses at once and when he helped out with teaching curse anatomy.

To your peers, the man seemed as though he could do no wrong. He was strong and knowledgeable, with a healthy dose of respect for the school’s staff and principal, whom he chatted with as though they were old friends.

And of course, he played the part of a doting father perfectly, even giving you a big hug when he saw you for the first time, squeezing just a bit tighter than he needed to. Everyone fell for his award-winning act.

Except Gojo.

Gojo Satoru had a deep respect for the strong and powerful man who had saved hundreds, if not thousands of people, and at first noticed nothing out of the ordinary with you and your dad's relationship. It was natural that you'd avoid your parent when they came to your school. Afterall, what kid would want to be embarrassed in front of their friends by their clearly loving and over-praising parent?

However, it wasn't until Gojo actually started to observe how you acted around your dad that he started to grow suspicious.

It was the little things that most people wouldn't have noticed. You'd flinch just the tiniest bit whenever your old man placed his hand on your shoulder or patted your head. Your eyes would widen slightly in what sort of looked like fear whenever the guy would call your name. And whenever the older male asked to see you later, your hands would start to tremble a little.

As Gojo put on his dark purple sweatshirt and a black pair of jogging pants after a long day of training, he realized there were just too many things that didn't add up. Why did it seem like you were afrai-?

That was when the pieces started to fall into place. 

The way you refused to go home for school holidays or summer break; The way you flinched at every move when you first transferred; Hell, even the way you stayed quiet and got spooked every time someone called out to you. It was all starting to make sense. It all pointed to a very dark and alarming conclusion.

And it was starting to make Satoru's blood boil.

HOW DID I NOT SEE IT?! The white-haired boy thought to himself as he ran towards your dorm room. He'd heard your dad ask to see you after class today, and after the realization he just came to, he knew he had to go check on you.

You were his friend, 2nd only to Suguru in terms of how close you two were. You listened to all his bullshit and his issues with his own family. You noticed whenever he was hiding something, being almost as observant as he was, and you were always there to hear him out or lift him up when no one was around and Suguru was off doing gods-know-what.

How could he have been so blind to something that now seemed so glaringly obvious?

The six eyes wielder ran faster at that thought. He needed to check on you. He needed to make sure you were ok.

By the time Satoru reached your door, it was dark out. Being his usual brash self, he immediately swung open the door without so much as a knock, worried that you were injured after seeing your old man.

What Gojo saw before him both worried and baffled him beyond anything he could've expected.

There you were, on the floor, hunched over, with the only light sources being your bedside lamp and the faint glow of the full moon. You were clad in a black tank top and loose gray running shorts, one knee brought close to your chest while the other leg was stretched out. Gojo could see the sweat glistening off your skin as your left hand stilled in it's rummaging through your drawer for pain medicine.

There were large red marks the size of fists on your arms that seemed to have already started to bruise. There were scrapes and cuts on your knees that looked pretty bad, and your hair looked like it had just been through a wind-tunnel.

You looked up when you heard the door open, pure terror in your glassy eyes as you feared your father had followed you, although he'd never done so before. The man only ever let you go when he felt your punishment for that particular infraction was finished, and never a second less. If he felt you hadn’t been punished enough, he wouldn’t have let you go in the first place.

Satoru's eyes widened in shock once he took in the sight of your face. The face that usually greeted him with a smile at the start of classes first thing every morning, was now so hard to recognize.

There was a dark mark around your right eye that looked a bit swollen and encompassed your "Eye of Ra" birthmark. Your lips were busted, a cut running down both of them on left side of your mouth. Your left cheek was screaming red with a barely-there outline of a large hand.

And yet, your injuries were only one of the two things that had the Limitless user stunned. 

Yes, he was very concerned and worried about your current physical state, but the second thing he'd noticed was what gave him pause.

A warm and inviting indigo glow that Satoru didn't recognize was emanating from your right hand, which was hovering over one of your knees.

That was new... Last he checked, that wasn't what your technique looked like...

Your terrified expression seemed to relax for a moment once you realized who had entered your room. However, you soon panicked as you tried to think of a way to explain your injuries without actually telling the truth. Dammit! You had planned on having fixed yourself up before morning classes.

You decided to just wing it. "O-Oh! Hey, Satoru! I-uh- just got back from a jog! I fell on my way up the stairs to get back to campus, so I was just treating myself with this handy-dandy first-aid ki-"

"Did your old man do this to you?" the male asked seriously, though his tone was careful and non-threatening. He wasn't trying to press you for answers if you really didn't want to give any, but he also really hoped you’d tell him.

Your eyes widened in surprise before a pensive expression crossed your face. You stayed silent for a moment as you looked away from your best friend, and instead focused on your knee as the indigo light coming from your hand grew a bit brighter. 

Gojo walked towards you and sat down near you, giving you your space but still letting you know he was there. The snowy-haired male watched in awe as the wounds on your knee began to heal under the soft glowing light that came from your palm.

After you finished healing both your legs (with Gojo watching in fascination the whole time), you finally spoke.

"....Yeah. He did." You say wearily. You sounded tired and defeated.

The teen looked up at the sound of your voice, but you kept your eyes on your work. You scooted backward until your back rested against the side of your mattress.

You then raised your other hand from the floor and it too began producing an indigo light. You started to hover your hands over each of the new injuries, going one at a time, the worse ones taking a bit longer. Satoru spoke up as you continued.

"How long has it been like this?" he asked, concern seeping into his tone.

You let out a shaky sigh as another tear falls from your eye.

"He's been like this ever since mom died. He's always making sure I'm doing everything right. He trained me everyday, and said that friends are just distractions, as are movies and television. He said that if I didn't become stronger, I'll just end up in the stomach of some curse."

You tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself. It didn't help.

"But he's.... he's never punched me before... Usually, it's just face slaps and hair-tugging. He said I deserved it for how bad I did today; For how much of an embarrassment I am to him. Said that my mother would be ashamed of me if she saw how weak I am...." you explained while slowly healing your would-be black eye. Your voice trembled as the tears started to build up again.

“Is he why you don’t really use your technique around others?” Gojo asked. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

You nodded. “I don’t want others to see how bad I am with my powers. I don’t want them to know I’m just...” 

You stopped healing yourself and finally looked up at Gojo to meet his gaze through the dark circular shades he always wore. You looked at yourself reflected in the black glass. 

All you saw was a weak little child staring back at you; a child with no skills and no use.

"I-I'm r-really weak... a-aren't I?" you smiled bitterly, tears streaming down your cheeks as your gaze moved back to the floor.

"I'm not the smartest or the strongest or the most clever. It takes so much for me to create a domain that I can b-barely sustain for more than 5 minutes. I-I'm only good with my studies b-because you and Shoko help me c-constantly. I'm always a nervous-wreck around others t-too, like some scared little m-mouse. I’m just...I'm just a weakling..." you stated, keeping your eyes trained on the floor boards.

You then heard the sorcerer-in-training step closer to you and take a seat on the bed you were leaning against. There was a long pause that followed the movement, creating an awkward atmosphere.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Gojo spoke up.

“You’ve never been a weakling.” he stated honestly.

You looked back at your white-haired classmate, an incredulous look on your face as tears continued to fall.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Gojo.” you said.

“Do I look like a liar to you?” the boy asked jokingly, softly nudging you with his knee.

You laughed a bit. “Yes. You look like the poster child for liars.” you replied with mirth in your voice.

Gojo let out a few laughs.

“Well, you got me there.” he responded with a chuckle that soon died. “But I’m not lying about this.”

The boy behind you lifted off the bed, removing his shades as he lowered himself into a seated position beside you.

“You are not useless. You never have been. I’ve seen you on the training grounds. I’ve seen how well you handle yourself with and without weapons. You’ve survived solo missions against grade 2 curses and-”

“Gojo, you’ve taken out curses that are grade 1, though. My dispatching a few grade 2′s is nothing compared to yo-”

The aforementioned male put a finger to your mouth, effectively stopping you.

“You shouldn’t interrupt people, (Y/n). Some might consider it rude~.” he said teasingly. You huffed but remained silent.

“As I was saying,” he continued, removing his finger from your face.

“You’ve managed to utterly crush many grade 2 curses, even outdoing me in number of curses exorcised. You’ve managed to make it through your father’s abuse and the trauma that came with that, and still become a powerful sorcerer. Hell, from what I’ve seen, you have another ability that you’ve yet to show anyone! By the way, what ability is that?” Gojo asked, his curiosity having finally caught up with him and causing him to de-rail his own speech.

You sighed as you looked at your hand, activating the indigo aura once again and hovering your hand over a bruise on your left arm. The boy next to you watched your movements with interest.

“It’s the family technique that I got from my mother. I never learned the name of it, but I know that it allows me to heal myself and others, though I don’t use it often. My father never really let me near my mother’s family, saying that he had no intentions of letting their “weakness” rub off on me. So, I never got to learn much about this power. I think he just didn’t want them to see me like this and take me away from him.” you said, a look of melancholy overtaking your features.

“My dad hates whenever he sees me using it, so I don’t do it out in the open if I can help it. I think because it reminds him of my mom, and then he’s reminded of her death.”

Gojo���s eyes remained focused on the glow emanating from your palm. 

“Have you ever thought of fighting back?” he asked nonchalantly.

You turned quickly to the male next to you, a look of pure shock and terror plastered on your face.

“What?!”

The blue-eyed boy shrugged. “I’m just saying. If he were my old man, I’d punch his lights out.”

You stared at the boy beside you.

“Are you kidding? He’s a renowned sorcerer who has the respect of the whole jujutsu community, and not to mention decades of experience that I don’t have. You seriously expect me to just go up to the man and say 'I challenge you to a fight you damn bastard'? What are you thinking?!” you exclaimed.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll do it for you.” Gojo replied, expression unreadable

You chuckled. “That’s kind of you, but I can’t ask that of anyone, let alone a frien-” you began.

“I mean it, (Y/N). I don’t care if he’s the damn Messiah himself. He can’t be allowed to get away with what he’s done to you. This ends now.” Gojo stated, about to get up.

Your eyes widened at the realization that Gojo was completely serious. You reached out your hand to grab his sweatshirt sleeve, stopping him.

“Wait! Don’t! Please...” you pleaded, worry and alarm evident in your eyes.

Gojo looked back at you with a look of frustration.

“Are you seriously defending a man that just beat the hell out of you?” he asked. The words came out harsher than he’d meant them. He was about to apologize, but you spoke before he could.

“I don’t care about him, I’m worried about you! Gojo, you can’t face him. He’s got so much more experience and power. You can’t beat him! What do you think he’ll do when he finds out that someone else knows about he’s done? Do you think he’ll leave you alive to tell others?!” you shouted, scared of what would happen if Gojo went to your father. You finally had a friend that you could trust. You didn’t want that to be taken away.

Gojo simply smirked at your words. “Believe me, I won’t let myself be killed by someone like him.” he stated confidently.

You looked to the ground, letting go of the purple sleeve reluctantly. 

“...he had surgery on his left knee last year. And he just recovered from his carpal tunnel.” you muttered, just loud enough for the boy to hear.

Gojo looked back at you with wide eyes before his expression softened a bit.

“Thanks for the tips. I’ll keep those in mind.” he said, a small smile gracing his lips as he knelt back down to be face-to-face with you before placing his hands on your shoulders, causing you to bring your eyes up to meet his.

“I’m gonna make sure he’s never going to hurt you again. You hear me?”

You nodded as a small flicker of hope started to grow in your chest. Maybe Gojo could really do this. He was one of the strongest people you knew and if anyone could defeat your father, it was him.

With your silent confirmation, the white-haired male stood and made his way to the door. Before exiting, he looked back one more time.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” he said, waving at you with a confident grin before walking out the door.

You waved back at the empty space, the fatigue from using your technique so much finally taking it’s toll on you. You tried to stay awake, worried for your friend, but your eyelids kept drooping and your blinks kept getting slower.

Eventually, you fell asleep right where you sat.

~Short Timeskip~

When Gojo arrived back at your room an hour and a half later, battered and bruised, he was surprised to find you off in dreamland in the same spot he’d left you in.

Gojo had defeated your father and called an ambulance for him, as he’d kind of beaten the guy bloody and knocked him unconscious. He’d also gone through the guy’s phone and found under the blocked numbers, your mother’s family. 

He called the main house and told them everything. Sure it was the middle of the night, but from the sounds of their reactions they didn’t mind. Apparently, they’d suspected something had been going on for a while. They just never had proof of any wrongdoing by your father that would give them custody of you.

With your abusive father and future living situation all taken care of, Gojo decided to head back to your room to deliver the good news.

However, when he was greeted with the sight of you fast asleep with your back against the side of your mattress, he couldn’t help but smile a little. You just looked too precious.

He pulled back the blankets on your bed as quietly as possible. Then, with what strength he had left, Gojo carefully picked you up bridal style and placed you onto you bed.

However, just as he was about to leave, your hand gently reached out and grasped his sleeve. 

The blue-eyed boy turned around expecting to see you awake, only to find that you were still letting out tiny snores.

He sighed before trying to pull out of your hold, only to find that your grip on his sweatshirt got tighter.

The boy could only chuckle at your unconscious behavior as he came to your side and sat on the bed. Eventually, he managed to reconfigure your positions so that he was laying next to you with his sleeve still in your grasp and the covers over both of you.

“You’re safe now.” he said as he turned to face you, his unoccupied arm coming up to stroke your hair. 

In your sleep, you let out a small hum as your lips curled into a soft smile.

It wasn’t the end of your problems. You still had a long road ahead of you, but it was a good first step. And now, you had someone you could trust who would be there to lend a hand you when you needed it.

-THE END-

A/N: I’ve never written for Gojo before, so I’m super sorry if he’s OOC. I tried my best though. I’m happy that I’ve finally finished this dang thing, though I’m sorry to all my people who wanted more fluffy things, but this song never really felt like a love song to me, and I wanted to stick to the vibes of the song.

[ollypopwrites]

Gale x Druid!Tav 🌿 Bonding with Tara

Rating: T (very brief and subtle mention of sex)

Notes: this is v domestic and I love Tara

Tara only gets to meet Tav briefly in the city but she’s known Gale long enough to know that look in his eye

Shes got manners so she’s not rude necessarily but she is stand-offish with Tav because well… she’s protective as much as Gale considers her his most dear and oldest friend he is hers and his mother is hers and he means so much to her

And Mystra well… I have a feeling Tara has some strong opinions on her. so naturally she’s cautious where she thinks he won’t be because he’s earnest and romantic and loves with his whole damn soul

And I talked about it before but! Tav and Gale have only known each other a short time, and they are certainly forged in fire so to speak but from the outside this whole thing looks like fiery whirlwind of feelings and fears of dying or becoming illithid

And Tara has concerns about that: is it going to fizzle out as quickly as it started? Is her Mr. Dekarios going to be left alone again sequestered in his tower? Is this flame going to burn him and leave another scar on his body and soul?

So if Tav accepts gales proposal and goes to Waterdeep Tara is not sure about the whole thing

And tav is… just a bit rugged in the space of Gale’s tower which can get dusty sure, and trinkets and books and quills are always somehow littered everywhere but its not quite the same

Tav’s shoes seem to always be steeped in 6 inches of mud, there’s dirt under fingernails, flowers or leaves in their hair and if Tav isn’t wearing those damned muddy shoes then they’re BAREFOOT and for all intents and purposes Tara feels like Gale found a feral stray animal and decided to bring it into the house

But Gale really enjoys it? He’s ready to renovate the tower so Tav can have a big greenhouse, space for more animals and they’re going on more outings to explore the wildlife around the harbors and beaches and Gale is beginning to sport a lovely tan and Tara isn’t sure she’s ever seen him spend so much time out of the tower but he’s practically glowing and she’s hard pressed not to be pleased he found someone who will literally make him touch grass

And despite being a Druid Tav doesn’t care when Tara hunts little mice and errant birds (which she definitely made a show of dropping small animal carcasses on the windowsill to once Tav nursed some injured bird back to health) but Tav just shrugged cuz circle of life and all that just please none of my pets thank you ms. Tara

She also lingered in the bedroom many a night because she’s a little shit who knows Gale won’t even take off his shirt if she’s there but then they started locking themselves in the bathroom and she flies off to his mothers house the moment she hears bath water start sloshing through the door

She admires the fact that Tav is not put off by Tara’s incredibly forced indifference and tendency to sit between them in the study because well Tav understands nature and she knows sometimes creatures become attached or just simply don’t want you to fuss over them or even touch them and Tara is of course, not a cat but a tressym, but the point still stands and Tav is just not bothered by any of it they’re very happy to simply cohabitate with a disinterested Tara

It isn’t until Tav wildshapes into a cat to sleep in a rare patch of sunlight during the winter that Tara breaks down

She comes over, at first sitting next to Tav and looking at her oddly but Tav just rolls onto her side and continues napping

With the unpracticed grace of a tressym who despite all her higher knowledge and powers loves scratches behind the ears and the spot on the window to watch birds fly by, she flops down to lay with Tav and its… actually quite nice especially when TAV STARTS PURRING.

And it feels nice to cuddle with someone cat-shaped almost, it taps into some far gone memory of piling with family

Thus the winter of snuggles begins where they lay in the sun and play fight and do Cat Things and Tara always flys off if she hears Gale coming around the corner and Tav never tells him about it so she’s spared any teasing and Tav never brings it up ever so as not to embarrass her

Until one day Gale finds them deeeeeeeep in a midday nap but decides not to tell them he found them

And he definitely was not teary eyed about it either that was dust in his eye

[dwntwn-strnlo]

HAND MAKING matt sturniolo

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎, dwntwn-strnlo.

↳ 𝐀/𝐍. im back :) . . . is this me trauma dumping? idk yeah probably

↳ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. matthew sturniolo x harvard student!reader

↳ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. to relax ones mind

↳ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃? no!

↳ 𝐂𝐖! slight panic attack but not really, crying, failing school? happy ending, pet names ig idfk, profanity

"what are you doing?"

"im making your hands, darling!"

you felt like a crumbling mess. school has been pushing you to your brim, and you just left the building with the knowledge that you just failed two of your finals. you wanted to fall to the floor in front of your professors, and just cry. hoping that your desperate pleas for a stable future would be enough to let you retake the mind numbing tests over again.

how in the world could one study at the most prestigious university if they can't even ace a final? you worked your whole life for this school, practically threw away your childhood and lived with the gilmore mindset to get here. just to fail. just. to. fail.

stepping off the campus and reaching the city bus, it slowly started to set in. you felt nauseous. like you were being held upside down, feet in the air and your arms on the floor. but no. you were sitting in a bucket seat that matched some torn down 80's arcade floor. so, you held your bookbag close to you, closing your eyes. overcompensated with the feeling of dizziness and fatigue.

as much as you tried to tune it out, you couldn't get rid of the lingering smell of weed and coffee that permanently stained the crisp air that is of cambridge and boston.

---

nearing the inner city, you opened your eyes and picked up your phone. pressing it to your ear after hitting call.

the phone rang once before it was picked up on the other end and a gentle "hey," comes through. you could hear the smile in matt's voice; the one simple, sweet word rang in your brain. bouncing off the tissue walls before settling back to silence.

"im almost home," you mumbled. your voice was lower and raspy then you intended. the last thing you needed was for your boyfriend to grow worried. but that's exactly what you knew would happen.

you could hear him suck in a breath on the other end of the phone, "is something wrong? why are you coming home early, baby?"

"i uh- i finished my final early." your voice was still tiny in comparison to the chatter that danced over the bus.

he hums, not wanting to necessarily drop the conversation, but he knew that you would be more open about it face to face. and not on a public transport bus that has heard and spilled countless secrets.

"i'm almost home," you uttered. hanging up the phone call before matt could ask more questions.

you sat silent the rest of the ride, bouncing your leg until it grew numb.

---

walking in the door, tears brisked at your eyes. you could finally let your walls down now that you were in a safe environment. you called out your boyfriends name as you walked up the stairs. the sound of ruffling and a door opening echoes through the house.

"hey, baby," he gently smiled, his attempt to comfort you immediately works. just his presence makes you giddy, your heart starting to race.

you didn't want to load your troubles onto him, but you could no longer fight the stray tears that glide down your cheeks.

dropping your bag on the floor, you close your eyes. attempting to stop your tears from flowing, but it doesn't work.

it doesnt take long for you to be embraced by matt. his arms snaking around your waist as you held yourself against his chest. sobbing quietly into his grey cotton shirt. "i fucked it all up, matt..." you cried. holding onto him tighter then you thought possible.

matt soothingly rubs his hands up and down your back, pressing a soft kiss atop your head. "c'mon," he whispers softly, "come talk to me." he carefully pulls you over to the couch, and you open your eyes but sit down without glancing at his face.

"i failed my finals," you sobbed, squeezing your eyes tight. tears streamed down your face, you felt like a total mess.

"aww baby..." he cooed. the frown in his voice ultimately made you feel worse. he took your hands in his, gently rubbing his thumb across the back of your palms. "i'm sorry."

you couldn't help but stay silent. even if you tried you didn't think you could speak again.

matt started massaging at your hands, and you perked up. he played at each knuckle and each indent, each scar and each freckle.

"what are you doing..?" you whispered, looking up to meet his swirling eyes.

he smiled softly, "i'm making your hands darling!" he giggled, trying to cheer you up.

you felt like clay under his touch, like he was molding you perfectly to fit with him. he held your hand close to him as he soothingly caressed your skin.

you felt like his sculpture in the back of an art studio, the lights blinding as it's a late night and school ended hours ago. your artistic sculpture was due days previous, but matt wouldn't settle for anything else other than perfection. taking his time to make you a work of art.

you felt like sand at the beach, matt's hands as the water as they came with the tide, and gently washed at the tiny beaded rocks that were your knuckles and scars.

you felt like-

"are you alright?" he asked sweetly, bringing your knuckles up to his lips as he pressed a kiss onto your skin.

until he spoke you didn't even realize that your tears had dried, and you were more focused on his touch than anything. school pushed to the back of your head, becoming the least of your worries in this very moment.

you slowly nodded, a small smile peaking over to meet his.

TAGLIST

@thetriplets3 @stxrniqlo @ifilwtmfc @iha8you @oneirophobic @20nugs @gracietaylorsversions @fenoy7 @mlimmm @prettysturniolo @ssturniolo @gabbylovesreading @oh-toseewithoutmy-eyes @matthewmurdockswife @jellybeanbby @slaysturniolo @iheartshifting @mxqdii @luvsturniolo @lvrsparadise @partoftoofuckinmanyfandoms @sstvrnioloo

[volturissideslut]

What if the Humans adopt a child just to see what’s so special about humans and why the Cullens like them so much, not knowing how troublesome a 8 year old can be?

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

strap in because this is going to be one hell of a ride (also I'm assuming asker meant volturi adopt a chaotic human child)

Aro, ever the curious one, cannot even fathom why dear Carlisle cares so much for these... creatures

And it's been like over 3000 years since he was human and he can't really remember much about living

It would also help if it would stop making Marcus be such a miserable slab of stone, and perhaps even Caius could do with a new toy

It just seemed like destiny when an 8 year old child strayed from the feeding group one day, too entertained by chasing a fat tabby cat that had jumped the wall to the garden

Whatever parent or guardian that came with seemingly hadn't noticed - not that they were alive long enough too

And, of course, Felix was the one to deliver the child to Master Aro considering he's the only one with a modium of decorum or respect for life in the castle

Any of the other guards would have eaten you on sight to be honest (they wouldn't in the future but you're just some random human child right now, they don't care about you yet)

Aro takes one look at you're little form, sticky fingers; muddy knees; grazed elbows; a leaf in your hair

Perfect

They're keeping you

easy, right?

wrong

Why is a overexcited yet hysterical human child such a lovable inconvenience, you may ask

well

1) none of them can fully keep track of you're emotions,why are children so confusing???

2) they can't fully keep track of your whereabout either

"HOW ON EARTH DID YOU GET OF THE ROOF YOU HEATHEN CHILD" - Caius probably

3) they know nothing, and I mean nothing, about humans. Expect them to ask the secratery for help next time you're sobbing, only to find out you're hungry because they haven't fed you a proper meal in days thinking you'd forage for it yourself

I swear Marcus is the only one who is knowledgeable, despite how small it is

"the child requires sustinence again" - Jane, fed up of this shit

4) they're used to the traumatic stuff of vampire life, you are not, they don't realise that

poor kid is gonna be so traumatised, by the age of 10 killing someone over cereal seems socially acceptable

At least Caius actually has a soft spot for you, otherwise you'd be dead dead by now

Marcus reads you bedtime stories

Aro wants you to grow up appreciating everything he does, there are many 'daddy/daughter dates' where he takes you to see plays, musicals, concerts, or whatever that he deems suitable

Caius pretends to be impressed with your drawings and fakes excitement at whatever lego monstrosity you've made

Alec shows you the world, taking you around on his days off to Scotland, Brazil, India or wherever you randomly point to on a map

Felix let's you use his cloak as a blanket when he's not using it, you like to play with it and use it for dens and pillow forts (it can also be used as one of those massive fabric parachute tent bubble thingys the class played with in nursery/FS1/kindergarten and hid under (you know what I'm talking about))

Demitri let's you win at hide and seek despite his gift letting him know where you are at all times. He is also not above pretending to play to keep you out the way and quiet for a solid five minutes before you come out giggling saying you won again

Jane will capture butterflies and set them free with you because she knows you love them and you also love to chase them

The queen's are always dressing you up like a doll and doing your hair, they basically get a list from the secratery of everything humans need (food, water, socialising etc) and fulfil those needs for you

The secratery is the only one who actually knows what you want and need most times, being human herself. The kings are seriously considering turning her instead of just killing her you your sake

And God forbid anyone touches their precious baby, you've grown on them and they'd burn the world for you in an instant

[bradshawsbitch]

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞

pairing: nick goose bradshaw x reader

nick has been away from home for a while, and receives a very warm welcome home from you.

warnings; smut 18+ only, afab!reader, dry sex, cum play, silly goose (i love him), tit worship

word count; 1.8K

disclaimer; I heard the sentence 'I'd be happy to find a girl and talk dirty to her' and went (absolutely feral) with it!

tagging for funsies; @fandomxpreferences @jupitercomet @roosterforme @roleycoleyreccenter

Soft, warm sunlight flitted in through opened windows. The rustic kitchen was bathed in an orange glow, as you moved across wooden floors. The long day had finally started to fade to evening, and the cooler air felt welcome on your skin.

It had been an unusually hot day, and your body was only covered by a plain black, ribbed leotard. You knew it was your boyfriend's favorite, in part because ‘it shows off the girls, honey!’ and in part because ‘your hips and thighs in those high cuts makes a man want to do sinful things’. Goose’s words, verbatim.  

Sighing sadly, the longing seemed to be reverberating deep within your bones. Nick had only been away for a couple of days for some stint with Mav, but God you missed him already. You knew he wouldn’t have access to a phone, and he’d been unsure of when he’d been able to come home to you.

So you spent the days trying to keep occupied, helping the sweet old lady next door with her gardening and keeping her company for a cup of coffee as she told you scandalously about the other old woman down the street. Her son had been caught for tax fraud, apparently. 

After assuring her Nick paid all his taxes, and promising to spread the gossip along to your boyfriend (he had unfortunately become old Mrs. Baxter’s favorite gossip partner after he had whole-heartedly engaged in a 30 minute conversation, being just the right amount of outraged, according to Mrs. Baxter), you had headed home with a smile on your face. Which was how you found yourself getting some chores done, washing up the dishes you’d left since yesterday, de-cluttering and vacuuming (which was when you rid yourself of your jean shorts).

A glass of water in hand, you heaved a deep sigh as you glanced through the open window, the curtains fluttering slightly with the breeze. Distantly, you could hear a car approaching, not thinking much of it until you heard it come to a stop, and the distinct sound of a door slamming shut. You barely had time to put your glass down before you heard Nick’s tell-tale happy-noise, something that had bewildered you at first, but now only warmed your heart and put a big grin on your face.

“Goose!” you’d run towards the front door, and sure enough, the vision of your tall, hawaiian shirt clad man stood before you.

“Aw, fuck, honey!” Nick’s beautiful brown eyes looked almost pained as they roamed over your body. “You know what this does to a man,” a giggle fell from your lips as Goose unceremoniously dropped his duffle bag to his feet before moving over to you - that small mischievous smirk you loved so much adorning his lips. His knuckles trailed down your bare arm as you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Mm, what does it do, Nicky?” another weakness of his. He’d told you in his sternest voice that this weakness was strictly classified Honey knowledge only. A soft groan left Goose at your soft tone, eyes playful as you leaned into his touch.

“Honeyy,” there was definitely a whine in there somewhere “it drives a man insane!” he grinned as he drew another soft giggle from you, the hand that was not trailing up and down your arm now coming to grab at your waist, large palm splayed over the fabric. Leaning up, you couldn’t resist claiming his lips with yours, having longed to feel them pressed against yours for too long. 

“Missed you, Nicky,” your breathless whine had Goose tightening his hold on you, arms winding around your midsection to keep you pressed to his chest as his lips strayed from your lips to your jawline, leaving a trail down to your clavicle. 

“Hi, girls,” the relieved tone as Nick palmed at your tits had you balking before you swiftly landed a soft slap to his shoulder “Goose!” he chuckled but didn’t stop his ministrations, kneading the soft flesh and sporadically pinching your nipples through the thin fabric. Letting your head tip back, a soft moan flew past parted lips.

“I could tell they missed me, honey… had to check up on ‘em,” Nick murmured teasingly against your neck. For a moment, you thought a scoff might make its appearance from you, but Goose chose that moment to latch on to the soft and sensitive flesh below your ear, right as he rolled your nipple between skilled fingers - which turned the scoff into a loud and needy moan instead. 

“Atta honey.. so good for me,” hushed voice, husky in your ear had your eyelids fluttering shut as Goose started leading you towards the sofa. He stalled for a moment, letting brown eyes search yours, a thoughtful look upon his features before he decided “Honey, I’m gonna disconnect the phone.” laughter rang out in the glowing red light of your living room, and Goose smirked as he made his way towards your phone. 

 The swiftness with which your boyfriend lost his jeans and button-up on his way back to you was astounding, only leaving your touch for a moment or two before his arms embraced you again. Turning the two of you, he nudged a knee in between your thighs to spread them before he sat down, bringing you with him to straddle his lap.

Goose was now only clad in a loose fitting pair of boxers, which you noticed were already tenting. As he slowly grabbed your hips and fully lowered you onto his lap, you gasped softly at the feel of his hard length against your core - arousal flooding your very being from the way he held you. Rolling your hips experimentally resulted in a low groan from your boyfriend, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

Labored and shallow breathing echoed through the otherwise silent house, Goose’s hands now guiding and grinding you down on his now rock hard cock. Your hands gripped at broad shoulders, forehead falling down to rest against Nicks, lips chasing his as they met in an open mouthed frenzy.

“Nicky!” you whimpered out as the head of his cock strained against his boxers, hard against the opening of your clothed core, where he ground hard trying to seek the pleasure of your welcoming heat.

“S’okay honey, Nicky’s got you babe, I’m here,” his voice was strained from the way your cunt tried in vain to clench around him, his tip just reaching deep enough to feel your attempts at getting him deeper despite the barrier of your clothes. Bringing his arms around your back, he guided your head to his shoulder, his lips pressing into your hot skin as his palm splayed over your lower back and ass. Rutting up into you, he pressed you down at the same time as his grip on your hip guided you against his length. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good, darlin’” his moan caressed your skin, the thickness of his length now adding delicious pressure to your clit. Glancing between your bodies, you saw the bulge of his tip in his boxers, and the wet patch that had spread across it. A loud, needy moan fell from you, and you were grasping at Goose’s neck now, desperately needing to feel him closer.

“Need you, Goose– please, need you,” whimpering, you ground more desperately into him now, hips rolling down hard to feel more of him. 

“Shh, honey, we ain’t in a rush,” strong hands stilled your hips, gently detaching you from where you sat leaned on his chest. Soft lips pressed against yours, and you needily tried to deepen it, nipping at his lower lip, desperate to feel his tongue on you. 

“Baby…” his tone was warning, but his touch soft as he splayed one hand on your sternum, the other guiding your arms away from his neck. He guided your hands so they were grasping behind you at his knees, his palm pressing your chest away from him. 

“Fuck, honey…” Goose groaned low in his throat, the sound emitting a whimper from you, brows knitted together as you hesitantly tried canting your hips in your new position. “That’s it honey, fuck yourself on my cock, needy little thing,” you knew Nick liked talking dirty, but this had your mouth falling open, head falling backwards as you kept your pace - again and again dragging your cunt along Goose’s length. 

Reaching down, Nick grabbed at his clothed cock, guiding it to put pressure on your clit before slipping it towards your entrance, bucking slightly as he found it. The knuckle of his thumb dragged against your clit as he rubbed his straining head as far as it could go into you, desperate and high pitched moans leaving you as he started moving his thumb slightly. 

“Please, Nicky!” Goose only groaned, using his forefinger to slip the wet material of your body to the side, fucking his cock just a little deeper into your sensitive hole. Brown eyes had been transfixed on your cunt, but now roamed your body on display for him, landing on your heaving chest, eliciting another deep moan from your lover. 

Reaching up, he swiftly yanked the straps down to free your breasts, hands and mouth latching on to them as you continued rocking against him. Warm tongue and rough mustache created an overwhelming sensation as Nick suckled at your nipple, palming roughly at your other breast. 

“O-oh, Nick - I’m–” your orgasm built fast, and had snuck up on you as Goose loved your body. 

“Give it to me, baby, let me have it,” Goose grunted against your tits, and it was all the encouragement you needed as you cried out, hips rutting faster to get you there. 

“Oh, I’m gonna cum so hard on your cock, Nicky” you knew your boyfriend liked it when you talked dirty back to him, and the moan he released at your words was enough to send you hurtling over the edge, a blinding orgasm having you mindlessly moaning, thighs quivering on either side of your boyfriends’, only vaguely aware of Nick’s hands palming hard at your tits. 

Harsh breaths and grunts met your ears as you came down slightly from your high, and looking down between your bodies, Nick’s straining cock appeared and disappeared between your folds as Goose fucked into you. Moaning softly at the sight, you let your hands leave their place to tangle into the short hair at the nape of your boyfriend's neck as you whimpered “Coat me with your cum, Goose,”. Whilst you weren’t as well versed in dirty talk as your boyfriend it seemed to work as Goose came hard with a long moan, his white spend spreading and leaking out of his boxers and on to your swollen clit. 

 Lazily, he rutted his hips, spreading his cum over your pussy, drawing soft moans from you as his lips found yours in soft kisses. Chests heaving, you let your fingers card through his blonde hair, as warmth filled your chest.

“Welcome home, stud,” Goose smiled against your lips as he held you close to his chest again. 

“And what a welcome it was, honey!”

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | aizawa, part one.

Aizawa's route of soulmate trope.

Part one bc tumblr formatting weird. Part two here.

Warnings: BTS mention. Reader is explicitly a kissless virgin to make Aizawa feel Worse. Part one: reader gets a mild hand injury. Threat of dub-con. Claustrophobia. Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Part two: alcohol consumption (not by reader). Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Fem reader.

Remember that U.A., for the purposes of this fic, is a university. Lore dropped carries over to previous and subsequent chapters.

~38k overall. ~20k for part one.

You didn’t have a soulmate, and that was just how you liked it.

Because instead of being hooked to one of your weird-ass classmates, you were free to continue to harbour your crush for your weird-ass homeroom teacher, and you nurtured your crush like a stray kitten brought out of the rain. A creature comfort, really, this affection for Aizawa Shouta—a creature no one knew you kept hidden in the back laundry room and sneaked scraps.

You’re not stupid. The man has to stay your homeroom teacher for the rest of the year, until graduation. Besides, you did have a sneaky little goal with your crush, though it will probably never come to fruition. It’s not an immediate plan in which you corner him after class to beg for sexual extra credit, no, but it’s a long, onerous, masochistic plot of delayed gratification: sometime down the road after graduation, you’ll casually run into him on a patrol, casually suggest you two share a drink to catch up, and then casually I-miss-you-terribly-sensei-you-deserve-to-sleep-more-oh-wow-your-hands-are-really-big-what-if-I-place-them-right-between-my-legs your way into his heart.

For now, the most you can do is be the best student you can. Yes, Yaoyorozu is most likely always going to beat you in chemistry and some maths, since her quirk relies on her knowledge of those subjects, but you’re positively gruntled and satisfied with your place at the top for humanities, along with trading top spots in other subjects with the same three or four people.

But mostly, you tried to be 1) resourceful and 2) not annoying, because Aizawa dealt with a lot of teacher bullshit, probably.

So, while you knew about stories in which students would seduce their teachers by favours (sexual or not), lingering innuendo, or flashing lacy underwear from their seats, you weren’t going to do that shit. 1) How dumb, 2) how embarrassing, and 3) you didn’t want your (hopefully future!) relationship founded on cliches for student/teacher relationships. How a relationship starts shouldn’t have to be a secret, either, or be something to be ashamed of.

(Because you could just picture your family’s faces at Christmas if you said something like, “Hey, this is my boyfriend, Aizawa; he used to be my teacher, and we started dating after I sucked him off under his desk while he was giving a lesson.”

Although, admittedly, there’s probably no good way to introduce a former teacher as your boyfriend.)

You figured, for now, it was enough to stand out in a quiet way, never outright begging for his attention, yet somehow landing in situations in which you got it. You liked to think that Aizawa appreciated that you read when you finished your classwork early instead of talking to your friends (guiltily activating your cringey not-like-other-girls complex that you tried to suppress), along with being attentive in class in general, and you landed an unexpected advantage in Midnight.

Since your first year’s sports festival, you’ve been her sidekick. Well, first you were her intern, and then you signed on the next school year. It was mostly academic work instead of hero work at this point in her career, but you found you liked it and her. You tagged along to record events and complete evals and rubrics, and running her errands allowed you into the staff room, where Aizawa was often curled up in his office chair or on the couch. And hopefully, Aizawa heard good things about you from Midnight.

Midnight’s current project when not teaching or on active missions was rehabbing female villains. She was easy to trust. They tended to let down their guards around her, eventually, and it fascinated you the way the system treated male and female villains differently—

“Hey,” whispered Mina, hunching forward in her desk to tap you on the shoulder, “You got back from Sakura Grove Rehab with Midnight really late last night. Did something happen with Tainted Love?”

You shot a look towards the front of the classroom, where Aizawa was gripping the podium intensely in an effort to stay standing, and once you garnered he wasn’t paying attention to you (big sigh), you turned slightly in your seat to whisper back. “False alarm,” you said, shaking your head, “She used her emergency buzzer because she heard that BTS released a music video, and she wanted to see it.”

Grinning, Mina nodded. “Normal BTS fan stuff. Is a member her soulmate, or something?”

“Don’t you think she’d be dead by now if she were? Ito said—sorry, Tainted Love said that they’re all simply very easy on the eyes and that she’s a connoisseur of human beauty. But her ass is in trouble right now, because the staff’s pissed they had to break out the emergency procedures for that.”

“I don’t know,” said Mina, fiddling with her earring, “I think that’s completely fair. It’s, uh—girlboss, gaslight, get-to-see-BTS.”

You snorted, covering your nose with the back of your hand. “That’s the wrong order, and you know it—”

“Since you have the energy to talk during a lesson—” Aizawa called towards you, his voice sharp, and your head snapped towards the front of the classroom. “—then I expect you’ll be capable of a higher calibre of effort and example for the class in your stealth presentation today.”

“Absolutely,” you said, recovering and folding your hands on your desk, “I’m ready when everyone else is.”

Aizawa gave a dismissive wave and allowed the class to leave the four minutes early to change and head towards ground beta. You’d already triple-checked that all of your support gear was ready, because it was your day in the rotation to serve as a combat example to the rest of your peers. Your focus for the past month had been on stealth, so you were presenting on your findings—presenting through whatever challenge was posed to you at the hands of one of the faculty.

 Giddy, you headed towards ground beta much more quickly than your friends, who were still getting dressed. Since you’d be presenting on stealth, you had a good idea of which teacher you’d be facing.

Aizawa was waiting at the entrance, himself clad in full gear. You shot him a cheerful wave, which he lazily returned, and you retreated to one of the benches nearby and opened the book you’d brought along.

(You don’t want to aggravate him, and what’s more, if you talk to him before your challenge, you’re going to be thinking about your conversation during it. Aizawa will be more impressed with your performance if you don’t fuck it up due to daydreaming about his cock.)

Making yourself comfortable, you lay down on the bench, holding the book above you to block out the sun.

Aizawa pushed his goggles back into his hair. “You have a book,” he said (asked?) flatly as he trailed towards you.

“You have a sleeping bag,” you said, jerking your head towards the yellow bundle wadded up by the door, “We must both be relaxed about this presentation.”

Crossing his arms, Aizawa carefully leant against the door and squinted down at you. “Do you not see me as a threat?”

You tore your gaze away from your book to look up at him, tilting your head backwards to smile into his scowl. “Should I?”

Kirishima and Tokoyami burst in and broke up the conversation before it turned into something that got you off for weeks.

Once the rest of the class clambered towards ground beta, Aizawa cleared his throat and addressed the class about the challenge; he spoke with his back to you (and a couple of others), since most of the class clumped in one spot.

“Sero’s melee close-combat presentation yesterday will be a tough act to follow, but today is our first presentation on stealth. Bakugou, Aoyama—your stealth presentations won’t be following the same format, but take inspiration from it.” Aizawa stowed his hands in the deep pockets of his jumpsuit and shifted his weight forward slightly, his broad shoulders lost under his capture weapon. “Hagakure and Tokoyami, I specifically want your critique of your peer’s performance today. Be ready to give her advice. I will be the faculty member she is up against, and—” Frowning, Aizawa cut himself off, did a quick head count, and spun in your direction, his hair whipping at the movement.

Seeing you reading over on the bench (which you were still doing in what was hopefully a sexy devil-may-care, fuck-the-police way), Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose before spreading his palm over both of his eyes, heaving a sigh, and dragging his hand down his face. He then held it out in from of him and curled his fingers to beckon you closer. “C’mon; I know you said you weren’t threatened, but now you’re pushing it.”

You were sunshine; you were ease, and you were pushing it, for some reason. But you were feeling it, so you cheerfully trotted up to Aizawa, in front of whom you halted expectantly and bounced on the balls of your feet, hands holding your book behind your back as you waited for further instruction.

He cleared his throat and snapped, holding out his hand farther to confiscate your book. You shunted it towards him, and when Aizawa took it, your fingers grazed his—your pinkie and ring fingers just barely brushing against his thumb.

And.

And it’s a rickety, staticky, lightning-type thing, this wave of thunder that rushes through you, branching from where you touched him—a two-second, core-shaking rumble that only you can feel.And there’s an electric jolt.

Vibrant pink blossomed from the points of contact, staining the skin like watery ink.

Two seconds. Two seconds compressing what must be years and years of salient moments yet to come, and they—they all had him, Aizawa, in flashes of memories (?) integrating him more and more into your life. And you knew, in that shock and subsequent ooze, how it felt to be pulled into his arms and held like you’re something precious—wrapping around you while he’s half-asleep and acting on instinct, hunching and curling over your back to shield you from a backdrop of  a battlefield—the feeling of you two lying together bare. You heard the crack of his voice in the morning as he nuzzled closer to you in bed, the rumbling vibration when he growled against your skin. Felt a ghost of his fingers digging into your hips as you arched beneath him (rocking, writhing), sucking a small spot on your neck, kissing down your shoulders, your back. A shiver as he trailed his hand down the inside of your thigh. A prolonged kiss to your collarbone. The passage of thunder left your body sore, like live-or-death level adrenaline had just faded. For a moment, your knees were in danger of buckling.

Aizawa must have seen—felt—the same phantom sensations, because once a noise from the class snapped him out of it, he grimaced, tucking your book and the pink-marked hand under his opposite arm.

Ducking your head to stare at your shoes, you took a step back, overheated and too aware that the class was watching.

“Recovery Girl’s office,” Aizawa said, his voice rasping, “Now.”

You bolted.

***

You slumped in the sky-blue plastic chair in the patient area of Recovery Girl’s office, unable to shake the sensation of his arms around you. You shuddered and hunkered over, a wave of misery washing over you as the last vestiges of his warmth (?) faded. Fucking figures that the only time in your life you’ve ever been in someone’s arms is in a goddamn vision and not reality.

On the other hand.

The pads of the two fingers that touched Aizawa were blemished with the same bright pink as that dust you’d inhaled the day Tainted Love’s team had invaded, and the colour wouldn’t rub off on your hero costume when you tried. An evil sort of smile spread across your face.

You jolted in your seat when the door slammed open, the knob banging into the wall, and Aizawa stormed in, shoving one of two clipboards into your lap.

“Quirk incident form,” he spat, a plastic chair scraping against the tile as he yanked it next to (but not too closely to) yours.

You slid the pen out from underneath the clip. “This says it’s a soulmate registry form.”

Aizawa glanced up at you, already a few strokes into writing his name in the first blank. “Tainted Love’s team had utilised her quirk enough before attacking U.A. that a specific form had to be made. Nevertheless,” he said, finishing the kanji for sho with so much pressure that the paper ripped slightly, “it’s a subset of the Quirk Incident Registrar.”

Huh. You supposed you should’ve known about the paperwork, since you’re working with her, but then, you’re dealing with personal rehabilitation, not the bureaucratical aftermath.

Following his lead, you quietly began to fill out your form. Basic stuff, really: name, home address, current address (dorms), quirk, soulmate’s name and quirk…

“How would you describe our inciting soulmate incident? Are you only putting first physical contact, or are you mentioning something about the, uh,” you said, leaning over to see his paper, but he flipped his clipboard up against his chest to hide it from view.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Aizawa, finally looking you in the eye. His tight grip on his pen didn’t dilute the saturation of the pink on his thumb. “And we’re not going to talk about it. You’re not going to tell anyone about this, and I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Oh, he’s repressed repressed. “Not even my mother?”

He shook his head. “Nothing important happened today, and nothing’s going to happen.”

“That’s a shame,” you said, moving onto the next section of the form, “I was already picking out China patterns.”

He flipped his clipboard out enough to continue writing. “Don’t even joke.”

“Hey, it says I need your phone number.”

“Leave that part blank. I’ll fill it out once before turning both of them in.”

That little sneak. “Wow. You really are intent on having nothing to do with me,” you said, sighing, which he echoed.

“Listen,” said Aizawa, running his hand back through his hair to sweep it out of his face, “if you genuinely require an explanation, you don’t deserve to be in school at U.A.”

You crossed your arms. “Try me, sensei.”

Aizawa winced, scrunching his eyes shut. “Don’t call me that. Listen. What I’m about to say does not apply only to me but to teachers in general. No one wants to fu—pursue a romantic relationship with a student because we are tired. Teaching is our job. No one wants to take work home when you don’t have to. You want to have a life outside teaching, and in addition to that, I have hero work.”

“There are lots of books and stuff about teacher-student relationships,” you said.

“Written by deranged maniacs who haven’t been teachers. Sometimes, it’s difficult to see your students as people, let alone the horrific romantic par—God.” Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose again, his fingers moving the press into his eyes, almost like he wanted to gouge them out. “The only reason a student may be brought up in conversation in a non-school setting would be if that student did something particularly moronic that day. At the end of the individual day, teachers are tired of their students and want to slip back into being an individual instead of an educator.”

You pursed your lips. “I have yet to hear that you personally are tired of specifically me.”

“Let me attempt another approach,” said Aizawa, hunching over to rest his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers together, “As your teacher, I would have an unfair power over you in a relationship.”

“Hell, yeah, you would,” you said, grinning.

Aizawa turned his head away, pressing his mouth into his shoulder. “I’m not going to engage with you if you keep making comments like that.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, aware you were getting yourself in deeper shit the more you opened your mouth. “I wouldn’t want you to propose in Recovery Girl’s office, anyway.”

It took him a moment, while you waited by scribbling a doodle of your cat onto the bottom margin of your form, but Aizawa genuinely let out a hiss as he snapped towards you, his teeth gritted as his eyes flashed scarlet, hair flying upwards in an instant.

“You can’t make those sorts of quips around anyone else—at all. Nothing is going to—” He seemed to notice that you’d shrunken in your seat, away from him, your hands held up while you let the clipboard fall to the ground, and he released his quirk, mildly startled that he’d activated it on impulse. He settled back into his own cold, plastic chair and sank his chin into his capture weapon.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quiet and subdued, “Joking about stuff is how I handle it.”

“No,” he said evenly, stooping to pick up your clipboard and pen, “I knew that already. That’s how you show you understand the material in class discussions. I should’ve taken that into account.”

He held out the clipboard, pinching it by the edge. You won’t touch each other, this way.

You took it and clicked your pen, scanning down the document to where you left off. “There’s this checkbox I wanted to ask you about.”

“What checkbox—oh,” Aizawa said, his voice faltering.

Near the bottom. A single, small line and box, for the weight it held: do you want this form to double as your marriage registration?

You crossed your legs to prop one ankle over your knee and tilted your clipboard away from his line of vision. You checked it before he even answered.

“Yeah,” you said, proceeding to shade in the entire box, “Do you—”

His scowl cut you off. “Leave that blank, too.”

“Of course,” you said, drawing a couple of hearts around the inked-in box before moving on.

You finished filling it out before he did, and when he set his pen aside, he pushed on his knees to stand with a soft grunt, taking your clipboard underneath his without caring to glance over it.

“All right. The rest of class has been joined the training session that All Might was monitoring for Class B, and given the circumstances—” His eyes fell to your stained fingers. “—you’ll have to make up your stealth presentation at a later date with a different faculty member. I’ll have someone else grade your work from now on, so you won’t have to worry about my grading you more harshly because of this.”

Aizawa waited for you to nod, and after, he took a step towards the door. He ducked his head for a moment before turning back to you, saying your name under his breath. “I’m serious when I say that you can neither tell anyone about our soulmate bond nor do anything about it.”

Swallowing, you slowly stood up from your seat. “I don’t know how well I can do that, Aizawa-sensei, but I can promise that I’ll do my best not to trouble you. I haven’t been troubling you for the past three years, have I?”

“Not exactly.” Aizawa narrowed his eyes, his shoulders tensing enough that his mouth disappeared underneath his capture weapon. “Why do you ask?”

Okay. You can do this. You’re fine. You’re normal about it. You held up your hands, as if gesturing that he should brace himself. “Because that’s, uh, how long I’ve—” Been in love with you—no! Stop that. “—had feelings for you.”

Grimacing, Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. He’s done that more in the past hour than you’ve seen in the past semester. “Holy shit.”

“Please don’t—please don’t feel any fucking pressure whatsoever,” you said quickly, trying to backtrack, “I’ve been dealing with this by myself for so long that I’m good at it, so please don’t, uh. I mean, I—I live in my head; I live in my books and stories, so it’s fine and good and tolerable that I’ve never been in a relationship or kissed or anything; I’m used to it, so you don’t have to worry; I’ve been handling this by—”

Aizawa exhaled very carefully, his chest heaving in a controlled way as he dug his fist into his eye, rubbing it. “Are you telling me you’re a virgin?”

“Ah, ha. Ha,” you said, scratching the back of your neck, “Sorry if that’s too much information; that wasn’t the point—”

“You’re transferring to Class B,” said Aizawa, and he spun on his heel and sped out of Recovery Girl’s office.

Huffing, you seized the clipboards and ran after him. “Wait up,” you said, shoving the door to the stairs open after he nearly closed it on your face, “I was just trying to let you know I am open to a relationship if you want it, but I’m more than fine—” Liar, spat the voice in your head as you scrambled down the staircase after him, your footsteps reverberating against the grey-cinderblocked walls. “—if you don’t want anything to happen, but if you—”

Aizawa turned sharply to glare in your direction as you caught up to him, and when you skibbled to a stop on the same stair, he said under his breath, “Quiet.” His gaze followed how your hair fluttered with each of his harsh syllables, so he took another stair down to distance you. “Anyone on the stairs could hear you,” he said, resigned.

He crossed his arms, and you slanted the clipboards away from your chest for him to take them.

“You really didn’t know I’ve liked you?” you asked as he took them, “All this time?”

“It’s never crossed my mind,” he said, and he continued down the stairs at fast pace but one you could keep up with, “Like I said, students are a different category of person once you’re a teacher.”

Biting your lip, you followed closely enough to keep your voice down. “You never knew. That’s comforting,” you said, and after a few more stairs, you grinned. “Could that count as my stealth presentation?”

***

You would think that more was supposed to happen, now that you’re soulmates. More conversation, at least. Perhaps a conversation.

Instead, a lingering, bruising feeling branded your chest, as if you’d been kicked the night before, and often a stifling, smothering pressure weighed down on your shoulders until you could be in the same room as Aizawa again. Sometimes, it felt like steel marbles were playing pinball in your chest, the aches where they hit gnawing and settling into your bones.

(Your cat, your chocolate-point baby Dango, has been upset with the hours you’ve been sleeping away the pain instead of playing with her. Luckily, Kouda has been borrowing her some afternoons. You don’t know what he does with her, but you do appreciate very much being able to tell Dango, via Kouda, that you love her very much.

Kouda also has the advantage of being subtle when you lend him your cat, because cats aren’t allowed in the dorms. You’ve been secretly caring for Dango for over a year now, so it’s as if you, Kouda, and Shinsou, who brought Dango catnip treats, were partners in crime.)

In class, Aizawa interacted with you as little as possible, usually asking Present Mic to grade your assignments in his stead. He didn’t act any different towards you from the perspective of the rest of the class, you supposed, except you made fewer jokes and he fewer retorts. Instead, you kept your head down, reading or working on your Sakura Grove data for Midnight, and you were skimming by.

But sometimes you’d be doing Midnight’s paperwork after finishing an assignment early, hunched over your desk, when your skin prickles and the emptiness in your chest wavers for a moment, and you’d look towards Aizawa—either slumping over his desk with his chin on his palm or almost concealed inside his sleeping bag behind the podium—eyes half-lidded and boring into you.

When you look away, it’s as if he’s the one kicking you in the chest.

***

The Saturday after a particularly painful school day for you (aside from your fucking up in a combat exercise, Aizawa had been going down the line of those who’d participated to give individual feedback, and he skipped over you without hesitation), you’d planned to spend all day huddled underneath layers and layers of covers and throw blankets in bed as yet another snowstorm swept across Mustafu, but you jerked awake, completely fucking frigid, before the sun had truly risen. You blindly fumbled over the edge of the bed for any or all of your six billion blankets and felt none of them, and, making a miserable whimper as you cracked open an eye, you peered over the side of the bed.

No blankets on floor.

No…no little bedside rug.

Jesus, did you somehow kick your bed away from the wall during the night? Wait, where’s all the shit you have all over your walls this isn’t your room.

Something was pressed against your back.

Your life was over. You’re totally getting expelled from U.A. for sneaking into your teacher’s room. It’s got to be his—holding your breath, you slowly peeked over your shoulder before snapping back towards the bare wall. A flash of that yellow sleeping bag, even in bed—it’s Aizawa’s room, all right, and his back was pressed against yours, with only your sleepshirt and his sleeping bag keeping your skin from touching (unless he’s wearing a shirt, which, in that case, get sluttier, Aizawa).

In the case that somehow appearing in his bed overnight made him detest you, you elected to slither out of his living space without his ever knowing. You wouldn’t have any answers for him, even if he caught you, really, at least not this early in the morning.

In the vexingly slow process of getting out of bed without waking him up, you had the time to look around, not that there was that much to see; it was all greyish and sparse and didn’t really feel like a home at all or that he spent much time here, with the most significant pieces in his bedroom being the shoddily painted radiator (in heaven, everything is fine) and a desk with both a PC and a propped-up tablet on it, with some papers spread in front of them. But the layout of his flat appeared to mirror another part of the dormitory, so you bet the door to leave his area entirely was through the next room, and you’d be home-free.

What caught your attention, though, was a well-loved cat tower, with one of the dangling mice for the cat to bat at torn off the string and resting on the middle level. Aizawa must have a cat. Funny, since that’s illegal in the dorms. As you finally slinked off the bed entirely, you resolved to locate the cat to kiss its little forehead before slipping out of his room entirely. Cat detours are allowed.

Walking out of his bedroom, you first were hit by the pungent scent of brewing coffee and then by a cold wave of defeat. Across the kitchen counter, Aizawa’s back was towards you while he fossicked through different brands of sugar packets.

You could’ve punted that empty sleeping bag out the window.

You took one step towards the exit before he spoke, his voice gravelly from sleep: “Do you want to offer me an explanation before I write you up?”

Fucking stealth heroes. “I don’t have one,” you said, shoulders falling slack while trudging into his kitchenette—with an ulterior motive of seeing more of his place before being removed permanently. “I’m—I don’t know how I got here. You didn’t—?”

“Of course not,” said Aizawa, ripping open two differently branded packets and upturning them into his coffee. He turned to face you as he took the first sip, and you wished you could say that his eyes drank you in hungrily, or whatever, but you supposed that you have to get sluttier, too: you were just as completely and unalluringly covered as he was in his Purple Revolution sweatshirt and pants. “You don’t have any ideas from working at Sakura Grove?”

“Uh, no,” you said, “I’m not encouraged to talk to I—Tainted Love. It’s more like bringing her food and filling out paperwork for her craft requests. I am very much the middleman. I can—”

“Don’t.” Aizawa held out his free hand. “I’ll ask Nemuri.”

Nemuri. You’ve known, you supposed, that he was on a given-name basis with Midnight. You resolved to get him to call you by your first name, too. And then the thought came that you might be ruining something romantic between them? Based on every interaction you’ve had with either of them, you had no indication of romance, but Aizawa had said that teachers aim to have very private lives. Yikes. You elected to slough it off for now, because introducing feeling jealous of your mentor whom you admired very much would only complicate the situation more. You could linger on jealousy once you figured out what the hell was happening.

“Right,” you said, pulling at a hangnail, “What if this happens again?”

“We’ll put a stop to it. Simple as that.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “We’ll be able to prevent this once we have more information. Until then, just handle it maturely and without fuss.”

“And here I was hoping we could cuddle,” you said, heaving a huge, fake sigh as Aizawa narrowed his eyes, and you pushed yourself up to sit on the counter, swinging your legs. “This is the part where you offer me coffee.”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“C’mon, Aizawa. Or I’ll spread that you have an illegal cat in the dorms.”

Aizawa hesitated just as he brought the lip of his mug to his mouth. “I don’t have a cat,” he said before taking another drink.

“Come off of it; I saw the cat tower.”

“I don’t have—”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when something prodded your thigh; a lanky, tuxedo-patterned cat had sneaked up to headbutt you before you could notice, and it climbed onto your lap to loaf. It’d be nice if your own cat were this friendly.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” grumbled Aizawa as he poured your coffee.

You flipped over the cat’s tag, the light catching on the rose-gold heart. “You named your cat Konpeito?”

“Eri named it.” Aizawa set the mug next to you instead of giving it to you directly—stubborn bastard, not wanting to touch you again. “Don’t make a scene when you return the mug.”

“You’re kicking me out before I even start drinking?” You tentatively gripped the handle and maneuvered the cat off your lap.

“You keep asking these questions that have obvious answers.” He gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t make too much noise on the way out; Eri’s in the next dorm over, and I don’t want you to wake her.”

***

You woke up in Aizawa’s bed again less than a week later. You’d had a dream that you’d been freezing, and the reason had been, once again, you were, since apparently Aizawa depended on his sleeping bag instead of blankets. You allowed yourself a moment of savouring the sensation of his back against yours (for real, this time, since the sleeping bag was snoring) before slipping out.

The third time, you left him a note to tell him to get a damn blanket, or else you’ll bring one of your own to keep there.

You idly took notes in Present Mic’s class, words coming slowly on paper while he prattled on. How come it was always you who was showing up in his bed? How come you always went to Aizawa, and he never came to you?

Your eyes flicked up to what Present Mic was writing on the board in skewed, thin handwriting. Had Aizawa told him the specifics? Present Mic had to know something, since he was grading your work, but Mic was also Aizawa’s friend—a luxury you didn’t have in this soulmate situation. Midnight would also be a strategic person to tell, from Aizawa’s perspective, but she hadn’t given any hint she was aware.

You drew a heart in the margins, and then you gave it legs. You made it walk off the page and onto the desk, colouring it in by crosshatching. If only you could get up and leave. Class without Aizawa dragged nowadays; where did he spend his time during school on break? Probably huddled in his sleeping bag in a slant of sunlight like a damn cat, maybe out on the grounds where he couldn’t be found. Or maybe he fucked off to a gym closet where the mats were; they’d be cosier than sleeping directly on the floor. And you could cosy up next to him, pressed up against each other in that snug—

You slammed into a wall of solid muscle, papers flying and tea spilling over the tile to seep into the rug in the teachers’ lounge, and you sprawled on your knees in the midst of it in your haste to get the fuck off of Aizawa before he could say anything, hissing as you tentatively raised your hand from the wet, broken cup. Despite the slivers of pottery in your palm, you one-handedly fumbled for the papers that had been dropped—third year evals, now crimped and tinted a yellow-green.

Aizawa took the papers, tapped the bottom to align them, and gave them a firm shake to flick off excess tea, and when you started to sweep the broken cup into your hands, he stopped you.

“Go to the faculty bathroom,” he said, pointing to the connecting lavatory, “I’ll be there in a minute with a first-aid kit.”

You had a moment to yourself in the clean, warmly-lit bathroom, so you pushed yourself up on the green marble by the farthest sink and crossed your legs, ensuring your shoes didn’t dirty anything. The pain’s setting in, but you won’t cry, not in front of him, and you’re crying, but just a bit, right? Fuck.

At the sound of the door, you hastily wiped your nose with your sleeve and did your best to look stoic, like pottery in your hand happened every day. But your eyes were too watery to even see the tweezers as he dug them out of the kit.

Standing in front of the sink, Aizawa clicked the tweezers twice (carcinisation, baby!) and held out his other hand.

You looked at it. “What do you want me to do with that?”

He said your name through a sort of scoff, which would’ve been way hotter if it had been your given name and also in bed. “Just give me your hand.”

Tears ran down your face in an overflow. “You wanna touch me?” you asked, sniffing.

“Fucking hell,” Aizawa said under his breath, “At least I know you’re all right if you’re still joking.” He shifted his jaw, scanning your palm. “If you’d rather have it at an uncomfortable angle over the sink—”

“No! No, I wanna—I wanna touch you,” you said, and you lifted your shaky, injured hand for Aizawa to hold steady. The instant his fingers cradled the back of your hand, everything fell into place: touching him was like breathing in cool, crisp air on a clear night or the smoky kindling of a fire that never goes out, like feeling sunshine on bare shoulders on a spring day with freshly cut grass, like walking into your childhood home’s kitchen when someone’s baked chocolate-chip cookies, like breathing in, like breathing, and—

You lifted your hand just a hair from his hand.

You have a stopped-up nose.

You glanced at Aizawa, whose lips were parted, his chest visibly heaving underneath his baggy jumpsuit. “Did you…?”

He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “I need to get the pottery out of your hand as soon as possible.”

Bracing yourself, you rested your hand in his again, and that irresistible warmth swept over you again. He’s got to be feeling it, too, so why isn’t he reacting? You’re embarrassing yourself, so why can’t he?

“Were you trying to teleport to me earlier?” he asked (distracting you from the sensation of each shard being plucked from your skin), head bent over the sink and your hand.

“No, I never—I don’t intend anything. But now that we’ve seen it, we at least know it’s not a gradual thing. Instantaneous and painless. Well,” you said, nodding towards your hand.

“Nor, I see, is it limited to my bed,” he said, shifting over when you uncrossed your legs, “What were you doing before the jump?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. I was in class.” You dangled your legs off the side to get closer to him (for medical purposes of course), and wow, Aizawa smelled incredible—probably; your stuffy nose wasn’t doing you any favours—what the hell kind of soap did he use?

 “Were you thinking of anything in particular? The bond?”

That’s got to be pine, and there’s something earthy mixed in. You really needed to blow your nose (Can you even name earthy scents? [Dirt?] You’re not up-to-date with masculine scents; you’ll have to find his deodorant next time you wake up in his room). “I was—” You cut yourself off with a hiss as he pulled the largest shard out. “I’m fine. It’s not that bad, really. Keep going. I don’t really remember the specifics of what I was thinking about, but I—” You cut yourself off again, this time with heavy realisation. “Goddammit. I was feeling the acute loneliness hollow out my chest again, and I was wanting to—be near you. Which explains why I’ve been teleporting to you instead of you coming to me.”

“It explains nothing,” said Aizawa, and he set the tweezers next to the shards on the edge of the sink and flipped on the faucet, guiding your hand under the water and reaching for the gauze.

“Yes, it does,” you said, openly wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve, because fuck it, this man didn’t care about you, so be gross around him. “If the teleporting is triggered by intense longing to be close to the other person, then it makes total sense that I’d be the only one teleporting, since I’m the only one who has feelings.”

“It explains nothing,” he said again, drying off your hand, “It’s only a possible contributing factor to the teleportation. Maybe it has to do with location, or timing, or action. It’s highly improbable that this physical action was caused by thought alone.” Aizawa ripped off a long strip of gauze and began to wrap it around your palm. “Don’t feel like this is a weakness on your part. I’ll probably teleport to you before the month is out.”

You let your fingers relax, your pinkie falling enough to graze his own hands as he bandaged yours. The more skin-to-skin contact you had, the more serene you felt—or maybe it was the injury adrenaline wearing off. Either way, you might fall asleep on the bathroom counter. “My bed isn’t big enough for two people.”

“That’s okay,” said Aizawa, and he slowed at the final wrap-around, holding it in place until he found the metal clips in the first aid box. “I’ve gotten very used to sleeping in odd places.”

When he stepped away to pack up the kit, you fucking whimpered on impulse at the loss of physical contact, and he froze, stuck in the motion of clicking the box shut.

“Sorry,” you said, sniffing.

His jaw tensing, Aizawa shook his head. “You should go to bed early tonight. Don’t overexert yourself.”

***

Yeah, except it’s Friday, and Jirou has been arranging this girls’ night for two weeks now.

Apparently, the karaoke bar you’re going to overheats really easily, since it’s in a refurbished building that used to be something-or-other; you’re not really listening to the explanation but were more concerned with having to wear summer clothes while it’s snowing out. The past two weeks have been strategic outfit layering plans from the lot of you, most of which have devolved into being silly and impractical (ranging from “I’ll just take off my skin and hang around in my bones when we get there” to “I will walk out of this dorm in a sleeping bag over my underwear” [the latter reminding you of Aizawa, in a pleasing, warm thought that you had to keep to yourself]).

Either way. Twisting over your shoulder, you strained to tuck in your bra so that it wouldn’t show from a mostly backless spaghetti-strap that you ended up borrowing from Uraraka, and once it was kind of hidden, you stuck your tongue into your cheek. It didn’t really sit right with you to be going out in this shit in this icy weather. You’d be a lot warmer and probably a lot more content if you peeled off these Best Jeanist jean shorts (from the Moulded to Your Ass line, unofficially titled) and crawled into your pyjamas and bed.

In the corner of your eye, your bed beckoned, with all of its blankets and stuffed animals (for when you just need to hold a little guy). What if you ditched the outing and—no. Stop that. You’ll be warm soon enough.

But with an abrupt lurch towards your bed, you found yourself spluttering into the scalding spray of a showerhead, water dribbling into your mouth between gasps and sloshing down your body. Blindly, you took a step backwards out of the cascade, but a flattened palm on the bare skin of your back stopped you before you could move farther.

“Don’t.”

The water still gushed and flowed over you, eyes scrunched tight and heart pounding. The hand on your back maximised the space between the two of you, but with the pathetic size of the shower stall, his body heat still seeped into your skin, complemented by rising steam. There’s a quiet grunt when he knocked against the frosted glass door; his shoulders must be wide enough for that to happen frequently (you swallow against a dry throat, because the man could hold all of you). If he wanted to, Aizawa, the way he has you now, could press his lips to the crown of your head, keeping his mouth there as his eyes flutter shut.

Instead, Aizawa was reaching up to tilt the showerhead away, giving you a good face-full of his bicep, and your eyes followed its movement (his jumpsuit did an excellent job of concealing a fucking powerfully built form), straining as he twisted the showerhead and relaxing as it fell back into place at his side—

“Eyes up,” said Aizawa, using his first two fingers to guide your chin back to face your front, where they lingered for a moment to tap against your jaw to ensure you’d stay there.

(With the shock of getting wet and the heat of his hand flat against your back [still there, still flooding you with an intoxicating headiness], you’d been entirely too overwhelmed to even consider catching a glimpse of his dick.)

“Aizawa-sensei—”

“Cut that out,” he said, huffing, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

For once, you’re out of the loop. But since you’re in his shower, you could take a moment to locate his soap to put a name to what he smells like and perhaps get a look at his cock along the way. Only his washcloth hung over the faucet in front of you, so you moved to turn slightly as you spoke, ducking your head to scan for shampoo bottles: “Earlier today you were saying it wasn’t my—”

Hissing, Aizawa slid two fingers through one of your belt loops and yanked, jerking you backwards into his hips for an instant before establishing that space between you again—pulling you by the belt loop blocked your view of his cock, and his hand on your back kept you from touching him in any meaningful way. But he was still as close as he could be without touching you otherwise, his breath as searing as the steam as he grumbled into your ear: “Bad girl.”

The water splashing at your feet wasn’t so hot anymore.

Aizawa tugged at your belt loop again (for a moment, when a swish of cool air washed down your ass, you worried that he’d look) and kept you in front of himself as he turned sideways to face the shower door, which he (fuck!) lifted his hand from your back to prod open.

Light flushed into the stall, and he scoffed. “I knew it,” Aizawa said, bitterness creeping into his voice, and he unlooped his finger from your belt loop to tap the fabric firmly, nudging you forward.

“Knew what?” you asked, spinning on your heel the moment you were out of the shower, water flying, and Aizawa ducked behind the frosted glass with a defeated expression. “Right,” you said, grabbing the thick towel on the toilet and tossing it to him.

“Check your fingertips.”

Tearing your gaze from his frosted-glass impression of wrapping the towel around his waist, you held up your hands. “They look fine. My bandages are soaked, though, so I’ll have to redo—oh, okay, fuck. My soulmark is gone.” You’re not going to cry in front of him, and definitely not twice in one day, because that’d be—

“Sensei,” you said, choking up and curling your shaky fingers into an even shakier fist, “Sensei, my soulmark is—I don’t want my soulmark to be gone, fucking, I—” On accident, you slammed your elbow into the glass door when you were trying to—please get closer (so goddammit, if your eyes water, it’s from hitting your funny bone). “I don’t want my soulmark to disappear; I adore you and want—”

“It hasn’t disappeared,” Aizawa said softly as he stepped out of the shower, gripping his towel in addition to the firm knot, and he pointed behind you towards the mirror.

While Aizawa eased down onto the closed toilet to towel-dry his hair, you took the four, wet steps to the sink and wiped off the clouded steam. No difference in your reflection.

When you shot a baffled look towards Aizawa, he gently raised his eyebrows and his finger to twirl it once. So, you turned around to look over your shoulder at your back, where his pink handprint put all body glitter to shame in how well it reflected the overhead light and in how quickly it was spreading (ink leaking outside of the handprint in watery bursts before slowing, never detracting from the shape of his hand, though the ink seemed to rise more than fall, especially near his middle and ring fingers between your shoulder blades).

He was holding up his newly pink palm, wiggling his fingers in your direction.

You returned to him (really to stand on the bathmat, since you’re drenching his floor) and raised your hand to touch him, first glancing at him for his approval. Aizawa looked at your hand and back at you, and after he wetted his lips, he nodded and got back to towel-drying his hair.

You hesitated. Is this really so nonchalant, so trivial to him? It’s everything to you.

You dropped your hand to your side, mouth twitching. “What shampoo do you fucking use.”

“Hm?” He didn’t even look at you.

“You smell fucking good all the time. What’s. What scent is your soap,” you were saying, in the same, flat tone you’d use to argue with your landlord about finally fixing your leaky roof after two years.

Aizawa squeezed water out of the last of his hair and spoke in that infuriatingly gravelly, just-woke-up voice of his. “It’s sandalwood.”

Sandalwood. That’s earthy, you guessed. “Then where’s the pine come from?”

“That would be the aftershave,” he said, folding the hair towel in half twice and setting it aside, “You were going to touch me, but now you’re upset. Care to explain?”

You plucked at your wet shirt before crossing your arms over it. “Does this matter to you? The soulmate thing.”

“You matter to me,” he said, standing with a quiet grunt, “Let’s get you reasonably dry before going back to your dorm.”

“Oh, shut up with that teacher bullshit,” you said, following him to a cabinet, “You care about me through the lens of a student, because everyone in this fucking dorm is your—fuck, I’m. You’re insufferable.”

“I can’t lend you clothes, but I should have enough large towels to keep you warm.” Aizawa reached for the top shelf, with beach towels. “However, I recommend against going out tonight with the rest of your friends.” He handed you a new-looking, blue-pineappled towel.

You angrily wrapped it around you, pissed that you instantly felt better. “Oh, is it because you’ve gotten me wet—” Aizawa draped another towel around your shoulders, tucking it in a little to secure it. “—and going out into this fucking ass iceberg weather would get me sick—” Another towel, this one with Present Mic’s radio show logo on it. “—and then I’d have to miss one of your precious days of class—”

“Is that what you want me to say?” He arranged two more towels around you at once, tying the outermost one in a knot. “Or are you waiting to hear that I want you to hide away while you bear my mark?” He tugged your drapery down a smidge so that you could use your arms a bit—at the least, use your key to your room. “When in reality,” he said, taking a step backward and appraising his handiwork, “I want you to be comfortable and content. And I don’t think you’d be either if you went out after this, even if you got ready again.”

Goddammit.

“And you’ve had a long day with strange revelations. You have a new injury. Going to bed for the night will facilitate healing. Your body will have more time to process the day.”

Groaning, you said, “Fuck you for being right.”

“Thanks.”

Since you hadn’t touched him earlier, you took the opportunity to clonk your forehead against his chest (dense muscle was evidently comfy). The soulmark warmth blossomed throughout your body from the spot, and you took your time to appreciate it, taking a couple of unhurried breaths against his skin, dry save for some stray running droplets.

Aizawa sighed, the planes of his chest rising and falling under your close and thirsty scrutiny. “This counts, y’know. As staying up late.” If you hadn’t seen him put his hand on your arm, you wouldn’t’ve known, due to the thickness of the towels. “I told you to go to bed.”

You blearily looked up at him. “Take me there, then.”

After a moment, Aizawa said, “I have to feed my cat,” and he opened the bathroom door to escape. Before he left, he spun back around, and you would’ve sworn he was fighting a smile, if you hadn’t known how he felt about you.

“But first,” he said, “let me fix that forehead situation of yours.”

***

Picking up the folders from the office mailbox, you flipped out the flag for read/empty and trailed back to the office space that you and Midnight shared at Sakura Grove, idly waving to some co-workers as you flipped through the files. Pushing the door open with your foot, you dropped the folders onto Midnight’s desk and hurried over to lift the shaking electric kettle from the heat, since Midnight was too absorbed into her patient evaluation at which she was typing away.

You poured the boiling water the round teabag, watched it rise to the top of Midnight’s teacup, and bit back a cry—you clutched the chilled windowsill to stay standing, struck by an overwhelming dizziness that blacked out the edges of your vision and crept to darken it entirely; a bowling ball has just hit your chest and dropped to your toes, the ache reverberating through your veins as you caved and doubled over, nausea settling into your gut.

Through the dots clouding your vision, you barely make out Midnight stretching her arms over her head.

These attacks have been happening more and more. If Aizawa can have a friend in the know, so can you.

“Kayama-sensei,” you managed to croak, but she didn’t hear you.

You tried again, and she turned, her expression drooping when she saw you. “Is the tea that bad?”

Eventually, Midnight helped you into your seat across from hers with your own cup of tea, the pain draining away in the process of vague explanation.

“So, you genuinely think you’re starting to die because your soulmate won’t acknowledge you romantically. Easy solution in sight,” she said, picking her teacup up by her fingertips to breathe in the steam, “Just pick out some nice lingerie—you can use my sponsor discount for Wacoal—and arch your back when you lie in his bed for him to find. I can give you some tips on how to suck—”

“Kayama-sensei,” you said, your vision finally back to normal, “You do not understand how much I can’t do that.”

Her tongue flicked into her cup, testing the heat. “I’ll bite. Why not?”

“My soulmate is, um.” You frowned into your tea. “I’ve liked my soulmate for a long, long time. Before the soulmate stuff existed.”

Midnight ran her tongue over her lips, the corners quirking upwards. “So? All the more reason to make your feelings known and emphasised, now that you have an excuse for a legitimate relationship. Since he already knows about how you feel, you should keep trying to seduce him. All men crack eventually.”

“He won’t accept a lousy attempt at seduction, because—aside from I have no clue how to do that, I don’t—he’s, uh…” You trailed off, took a swig of tea instead of finishing, and ended up choking a bit at the heat.

“Yes? What’s the juicy detail you’re reluctant to share? Is he married? Is he a public figure? Is he too much older or younger than you?”

Narrowing your eyes, you asked, “Do you already know? Are you just making me say it?”

Tight-lipped, Midnight made a loose, dismissive gesture and moved to get back to her patient file.

“Fine. Fine! If anyone can help me with this, it’s you, because it’s—goddamn,” you said, deflating and sinking down into your seat, “It’s fucking Aizawa-sensei, okay? My soulmate is my stupid homeroom teacher.”

“Congratulations,” said Midnight, saving the document and shutting down the computer, “You have earned the right to call me by my given name for being so honest.” She spun in her chair to give you her full attention. “So. Shouta.”

“Did you know already? Were you just—”

“I had my suspicions but no concrete evidence,” she said, holding up her hand, “Just some observations from watching you for the past three years.” Tilting her head, she adjusted her glasses before lifting her cup to her mouth again. “Now, the reason why you can’t just seduce him is crystal clear now. I submit that you could start going to bed in skimpier clothes in the event you teleport to his apartment again, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Shouta’s got a steel will. He’s not going to violate that student-teacher professional relationship.”

“I know,” you said, slumping so far down in your seat that your ass was falling off of it, your chin touching your chest, “but if I’m in pain from not being with him, he probably is, too. And if he won’t acknowledge me romantically, I wanna know if there’s something I can do to alleviate the pain that we’re both feeling. He shouldn’t be distracted from his work because of it.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” Midnight jabbed a finger in your direction. “Starting today, you’re promoted. You’re going to be Tainted Love’s primary monitor.”

“What?” You shot up in your seat. “But I haven’t—I haven’t even had a proper conversation with her before—”

“But she’s used to having you around,” Midnight said evenly, opening her top desk drawer, “To her, you’re in a position of authority but not a threat. You’ve seen how she likes to talk, anyway, and you’re in a perfect position to find out more schematics of how her quirk works on the individual level.” Midnight smiled and handed you Ito’s folder. “Plus, she can’t do anything more to you, right? You’ve already got a hell of a soulmate.”

“Okay,” you said, hesitantly taking her file to clutch it to your chest, “So, you just want me to talk to her? Try to solve my problems?”

“Yeah. And anything you find out about her quirk that she hasn’t shared so far—because she hasn’t exactly shared much past the first interrogation—is welcome intelligence. Record anything new. Keep Ito happy. You’ll be golden. I know you’re more than capable.”

“Funny,” you said, flipping through the file and joining Midnight as she stood, “This feels planned. Got anything else motivating you?”

“Besides a perverse desire to see my friend and my sidekick get together?” Midnight grabbed her whip from the hook on the side of her desk. “I was going to assign you this, anyway. Ito isn’t a threat anymore, and I need to focus on preparing for Serendipity’s arrival next week from St. Philomena’s. Even the airline we finally convinced to transport her has backed out, so I’m scrambling to bribe another.”

That had slipped your mind—Serendipity was being transferred to Sakura Grove for rehabilitation, mostly because no one else wanted to house the most potently dangerous female villain in the Americas. “Understandable,” you said, holding open the door for Midnight to follow closely behind, “When do I start?”

***

Fifteen minutes later, you were setting a tray with tea and powdered thumbprint-cookies in front of Ito at her desk in her room. She raised a sharp, white eyebrow at how the dishes clattered at your shaky handling, but she nodded in thanks and turned back to her book. You guessed you were lingering awkwardly by the door a bit too obviously, so she rolled her eyes and set her book upside-down on the desk.

“You’re my new handler, right?” she asked, scratching under her eye.

“That’s me,” you said, hands folded tightly in front of you, “Midnight says you cleared stage five, so you’re safe to be delegated off to me. I have your stage six schedule printed out—”

“But why are you still here? Everyone usually leaves as soon as possible.”

“I’m the only staff member immune to your quirk,” you said, sliding her schedule out of her file.

“Immune.” Ito grinned and crossed her legs. “That’s interesting. How do you know that?”

Well, Midnight said to be honest in order to get honesty from Ito. You sucked in through your teeth. “I’m only immune because you’ve already given me a soulmate. I was the, uh, student you landed on when you attacked U.A.”

Scrunching up her face, Ito scanned you from head to foot, and when she finally stopped at your chest, she nodded. “Ah. I remember you. You’ve got good tits, kiddo,” she said, reaching for her tea, “Be proud of ‘em. You allowed to tell me how it’s going?”

You glanced behind you at the door, pretending to be considering the trouble of talking to her, and when you prodded it shut with your foot, Ito’s grin stretched all the way across her face, her teeth cutting into her lower lip.

“I’ve been desperate to talk to you,” you said, dragging the extra chair closer to hers, “My soulmate is being a little bitch.”

“I like you better than Doc Kim already,” said Ito, and she took a noisy slurp of her tea. “Spill it.”

“I need your advice on what to do about the pain.”

“You found your soulmate already? Then you shouldn’t be feeling any,” she said, shrugging.

“No, I need you to tell me about what to do about the pain. I don’t know if he’s feeling it, but it’s fucking killing me, and he won’t do anything about the soulmate stuff because he doesn’t like me—”

“Back up.” Ito slammed her cup on the tray, spilling tea. “You’re not making any sense. Start over. Tell me about your soulmate.”

Groaning, you buried your face in your hands, leaning back in your chair until your back popped. “He’s my professor, and I’ve liked him for years. Since I met him, pretty much.”

“Hot. He got a sensei kink?” She shoved two thumbprint cookies in her mouth at once, and she nudged the plate in your direction.

“Eh,” you said, weighing your options, “It’s possible. But he doesn’t—”

“Nice. So, he says he’s not gonna do anything while you’re his student, which means he’s burning with shame and sexy, sexy doubts about how good of a man he is. Always sexy to bring a man to his moral and literal knees. Are you wearing fun things to class?”

“We have a uniform.”

“Shame,” she said, gulping down more tea, and then she cocked her head. “Unless.”

“No.”

“Spoilsport,” said Ito, gesturing towards the cookies again. This time you took one, pinching it absentmindedly in your lap. “I think I want to go on my daily walk around the courtyard. Is there room for that in my new schedule?”

You checked it. “I’ll make it work.”

Minutes later, you and Ito were bundled up and strolling the perimeter of Sakura Grove’s courtyard, full of other in-patients in team recreation in the middle and in private conversation on some of the benches.

“I’m still not with you,” Ito was saying as she stared up into the bare limbs of a sakura tree, “I don’t understand why you’re feeling the soulmate pain. It shouldn’t be affecting you, since you know and have met your soulmate.”

You huffed, breath visible. “Well, if you don’t know, then I’m lost. But if he’s not going to complain about the pain, then I suppose I’ll just have to deal with it. I like him too much to bitch about it to him, I guess.”

Ito shoved more of her long, white hair underneath her pom-pom hat. “Then it’s probably the same for him, with him liking you too much to bother you about it.”

“Nah.” You stepped into one of her footprints, the snow crunching under your weight. “He doesn’t like me, and I don’t think he ever will, since once a student, always a stu—”

Ito’s head snapped towards you, cheeks rosy from the cold. “What did you say?”

“My soulmate doesn’t like me, because—”

“You said that earlier, too,” said Ito, and she looked around for other monitors before jerking her head for you to follow her. She guided you in a casual-but-not trail away from any doors or eavesdroppers, and she said in a hushed voice, “You do know that my quirk doesn’t assign soulmates randomly, right?”

“What the hell? Say more right now,” you said, taking smaller steps to stay closer to her.

“Oh, well, that’s news for me. I figured they’d captured my team’s notes on my quirk by now. Okay, well, report this, or not,” said Ito, jabbing a finger towards you, “How much do you know about probability? Yeah, yeah, more math—yes, soulmates usually to inhale the same cloud of my quirk to be considered soulmates, but there are other factors, too. See, you were making sense until you said your soulmate doesn’t like you back.”

“Okay, I’m not following—hey, let’s walk more towards the centre; I think those two by the door are watching us.” You steered the two of you back onto the typical path but stayed close to speak quietly.

“In addition to breathing from the same cloud, two people have to have had a moment of genuine, mutual attraction between each other. Not, like, you pass someone hot on the street and think you’d suck the soul out of their dick before dissuading yourself from the impulse, because they’d clearly ruin your life, but a moment of true, lingering affection for someone that you don’t talk yourself out of. A moment worth thinking about later. Hey, Rika,” Ito said loudly as you passed another patient on the path, “Good to see you today. How’s your cult? You don’t know? Great! Healthy! See you later!” Ito and you sped-walked past her, and once Rika was out of earshot, Ito lowered her voice again. “You don’t have to know the person, but maybe a stranger shared a moment of kindness with you. Maybe an old friend laughed in a new way. It’s a moment where you’re attracted to something past the surface level in a person, even for a brief second. I don’t give out soulmates with absolutely no attraction, even if it may seem that way.”

You, fuming, kicked snow out of your path. “That bitch likes me!”

Ito nodded. “And not just for your tits.”

“Shit,” you said, pushing hair out of your face and pulling your scarf to be snugger, “Nothing I do is gonna—”

“I can help,” said Ito, glancing over her shoulders again for eavesdroppers.

You stopped in your tracks. “But why would you do that? I’m just some weirdo.”

“Because when I have employed the help I’m about to offer you, it has been very, very funny to me,” she said, “and I don’t get outside news except through fucking letters.”

You joined her on the path again. “How many times have you done this?”

Ito looked up as she bit the pad of her thumb, trudging through the snow. “You’ll be the twelfth time. It’s like a part two to my quirk, but I usually don’t come across victims again to offer this sort of thing—and people usually don’t need it. Step one: we’ll need an airtight container.”

***

Cut to that evening in your dorm room, with you hunched over a ziploc bag sealed to the brim with her quirk’s pink dust.

Door locked. Lights down. Cosy pyjamas. Already under the covers in bed.

An increased probability of cliches, Ito had said.

You flipped on the flashlight on your phone to shine through the dust, pink light scattering on the ceiling like a home-planetarium.

Inhaling her quirk for the second time would still affect you, but it wouldn’t assign you another soulmate. Rather, it would dramatically increase your chances for romance tropes to occur in your real life. Stuff that only happens in rom-coms and fanfic could start to happen to you and your soulmate.

(“Like sharing a bed when there’s only one of them,” Ito had said, swirling her finger through the leftover powdered sugar and licking it.

“We’ve already got that covered with the teleporting,” you’d said.

“Shifting is what I’ve been calling the teleports, babe.” Ito had smacked her lips. “And maybe you’ll wake up grinding on his hard-on, now. Do you know how big his dick is?” she’d asked, and then she’d clicked her tongue. “Never mind; I wanna know about his thighs.”

“I can—”

“Or maybe he’ll spill coffee on your shirt and have to pat you dry, accidentally making your shirt see-through and getting flustered at your tits. Or maybe he’ll have to pick you up in the rain, and oh, no, the weather’s too bad for you to go home, and you have to wear his clothes, and—”

You’d snorted at the thought of wearing one of his jumpsuits. He didn’t seem to have much else.)

Either way, you had your ziploc bag of soulmate trope dust, and you had a soulmate reluctant to acknowledge you—even though you knew now that he liked you, that bitch. You’d prepared accordingly, already in bed, since Ito had said you’d likely pass out again. It sat a bit unpleasantly in your stomach that you were going to rely on cliches to jumpstart your relationship with Aizawa, since you hadn’t wanted to do that in the first place with teacher-student relationship cliches. But you could avoid that the best you could, you supposed.

You lay down in bed, adjusting your hair on your pillow, and with the bag on your chest, you popped it like bubble wrap, the dust surging into your face in a rosy burst.

***

Popping it Tuesday night led to a cruelly dull Wednesday, since, as seniors, Wednesdays were off-days for the hero course to spend more time in the field. You weren’t needed at Sakura Grove, as you remotely typed up your reports and sent them their way, and since all your friends were with their mentors, the hours crawled. You puttered around online for a while, before cracking open a book whose plot couldn’t hold you. Since no one was around to witness, you plodded downstairs to the kitchen in your pyjamas, stole one of Aoyama’s green tea popsicles for an early start to lunch, and booted up the console Kaminari kept in the commons.

While the screen loaded, you plopped onto the couch, licking the last of the tea off the wooden stick. What does Aizawa do on Wednesdays now that his class is loose? He frequents a cat café; the punch-card was poking out of his wallet on his bedside table last time you shifted to his room. But there are the mundanities—grocery shopping, catching up on sleep, grading, caring for Eri. And hell, how you’d like to share those moments with him—perhaps scrunching his nose at a change of ingredients of his favourite chip, stroking the neck of his cat in a beam of sunlight, braiding Eri’s hair with ribbon at the start of a school day.

Fuuuuuck, when will Aizawa let you in?

The next moment, you’re suffocating. Pitch black softness, swaddling and falling around you, sweltering within seconds, sweat beading at your hairline. You took a desperate, gasping breath—relieved in the slim moment a slant of light puckered in front you, until the hand shoved onto your face, palm feeling for your mouth and shutting your jaw for you. Within the cocoon, the frame on either side of you tensed, and—the hand fumbled, once you’d quieted, in the crack of light to clumsily cup your cheek, patting it abruptly before rubbing the thumb over your cheekbone.

From that touch and the peace it swept over you, you knew where you’d shifted: kneeling right between Aizawa’s legs in his sleeping bag. But he’s sitting upright in a chair and needed to silence you, so where was he right now?

You settled, leaning against the hard muscle of his calf and into his palm, nosing at it to signal you knew it’s him.

“You have twenty-seven minutes to finish your tests,” called Aizawa, and for the first time, you picked up on pens clicking, paper shuffling, and chairs scuffing against polished tile. “Don’t ask me when they’ll be graded; Kuranosuke-sensei isn’t set to return until Saturday.”

Bless him.

But okay. You’ve got about half an hour stuck between his legs under this desk in front of what’s likely a bunch of younger business students.

Huh, if you only inched your chin forward on his chair, you’d be perfectly positioned to nuzzle against his cock, maybe suck it if you maneuvered your arms out of the sleeping bag’s constrictions. But, you supposed, it would be very mean to tease him in that way in front of students who haven’t built that respect for him, and you’d prefer your first blowjob to be where Aizawa could throw his head back, face flushed, groaning loudly with a gentle, guiding hand on the back of your head—hey, now’s not the time.

You didn’t want him to feel the shame of having an erection in front of who were essentially strangers. It’d…you don’t want to humiliate your soulmate. You love that idiot.

But Aizawa was shifting his hips, to your horror, the thick fabric of his jumpsuit brushing your face in the moment his hand retracted, and the sleeping bag was shuffled down past the top of your head, which grazed the underside of a desk drawer.

You rested your chin towards the edge of his chair—yes, mere inches between your face and his clothed cock, but your breath probably wasn’t even hitting it. From this angle, you and Aizawa could share that suspicious glare he shot you, so you backed up the half-inch for your chin to rest of the very brink of the chair—he closed his eyes, his shoulders losing their stiffness—and you leant your head against his thigh, just on the inside of his knee. He heaved a silent sigh, giving a subtle roll of his eyes, and minutely nodded—an act so slight that if you hadn’t been looking for it, you would’ve missed it.

Aizawa’s hand came to rest atop your head, scratching his fingers gently against your scalp. Part of it’s the soulmate bond; part of it’s being touch-starved, but his gentle scratch was so fucking soothing that a hazy, relaxed sleepiness came over you. Your head sagged, nose pressing towards the underside of his thigh, while your eyes crossed. Maybe it’s the magic of his sleeping bag, but you’re so drowsy that the scratch of his short nails almost drowned out clicking footsteps approach the desk.

Aizawa froze, his hand stilling in your hair.

“What are we supposed to do with our tests?” came the whisper of a business student.

Aizawa made a grunt and moved as if he were stretching and reaching for something on the desk. “Whatever you normally do. Is there not a routine?”

“The basket we turn papers in to is missing.” The shadow of the student’s feet grew closer to the desk.

“Not my problem. Just leave them on the corner of the desk—” A tinny clink echoed through the teacher desk when Aizawa tapped it—his thumb swiping over your forehead to calm you.

“Gotcha,” said the business student, and you thought you were in the clear before she asked, “What—what are you doing under…?”

“Oh?” Aizawa jolted the chair forward to hide you, but with the jolt came his clothed cock pressed against your face; even through the thick fabric you could tell it’s his shaft pressed against the length of your nose and corner of mouth and balls nestled against your chin and cheek. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to text under my desk, the same as all of you do when you think I can’t see.” A metallic-sounding object scraped across the desktop, followed by an impulsively-large-sounding gulp.

“Your phone’s on your desk, sir,” said the business student.

His fingers now curled into your hair in a vain attempt to pull you away from his cock, but he couldn’t, with the scant room under the desk and bulk of his sleeping bag. Trying to be polite, you opted to avert your gaze from his crotch (even though it was right there), which shuddered so hard that you saw and felt it.

“It’s a common practise for pro-heroes to have secondary phones purely for work,” said Aizawa, taking another loud swallow of his drink. “You may want to invest in one.”

“Gotcha,” said the business student again, just as another shadow joined her at the desk and whispered for her to hurry up.

When they both retreated, Aizawa stealthily scooted back to gain some space in a move that looked like he was simply leaning back in his chair to drain the tea out of his cup—and you savoured the unshielded view of the tender skin of his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed—and hey, that’s—Aizawa relaxed enough to glance down at you, elbow on the arm of the chair, holding in the air the teacup you gifted him to replace the one you broke (nowhere nearly as nice as the pottery one you smashed presumably was, but its deep crimson glaze had reminded you of his quirk-activated eyes).

You were strangely moved that he was using your gift so quickly after he received it, in public, and not where you were supposed to see it being used.

Your eyes darted between the cup and his eyes until he noticed, and he raised the teacup just a hair in a toast. Nodding with a tired smile, you wormed your arm around to unwind his hand from its grip in your hair, unintentionally still tight, and held his gaze as you kissed the pad of each finger, starting with his little finger, the pink flashing from each tip until you pressed your lips against his thumb.

Aizawa never looked away, but he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. You wondered for a moment if he liked the thumbprint bisecting the centre of your lips, the rounded edge aligning with the dip in your cupid’s bow. But his expression betrayed nothing, and instead, he raised the teacup to his own mouth, his hand returning to your hair for the rest of the period.

After the last student had petered out of the classroom and Aizawa had given an uncharacteristic little wave as the last one close the door behind her, Aizawa held out a groan as he kicked away from the desk, his hands flying to adjust his lower jumpsuit and then raking his fingers back through his own hair.

“How are you holding up?”

You balked. “How am I?” You shoved at his knees so that you had room to stand, and you sat on the desk.

Aizawa pointedly nudged your legs together (you hadn’t even thought of it that way). “Nice pyjamas.”

“You’re lucky I don’t sleep naked,” you said, plucking at your shirt.

“Am I?”

Was that…was he flirting?

Your surprise must have shown on your face, because he continued. “You shouldn’t walk back to the dorms like that. I don’t have anything at the school besides a spare jumpsuit, but Hizashi should have his jacket draped on his chair in the faculty lounge.”

“How romantic,” you said, flicking the side of his teacup for the hell of it.

“I don’t have another class to sub until the period after this one,” he said, pocketing his phone and other personals on the desk before handing the teacup to you, “Let’s go.”

Present Mic was gloriously absent from the faculty lounge, so there was no one to stop Aizawa from laying his stuff on his desk and swiping the jacket off the back of Mic’s chair. You set the teacup on the cat coaster and had just barely turned his way before he was sweeping the open jacket around your shoulders. Aizawa lifted the leather while you slipped your arms inside, and he zipped you up, stopping the zipper just above the curve of your boobs. You looked down, and he flicked the zipper up at you with a smirk.

“Are we married yet?”

His hand dropped from your zipper. “I saw what you did with the registration form. You’re not funny.”

“I happen to be hilarious,” you said, “I assume to want to adjust the mark?”

Nodding, Aizawa waited for you to tilt your head up and to the side. “I am not marrying you. You’re my student.” He grazed the usual spot behind your ear with his ring finger.

“And someday I won’t be.” You shivered as the frisson of his touch rolled through you. “You’d rather have even more paperwork, bureaucratical hoops, and possibly a ceremony at a later, inevitable date than one simple checkmark on a sheet? Not very logical, sensei.”

He frowned. “Stop that.”

A beat. “No otherwise rebuttal?” you asked, grinning, “You agree, then, that we’re going to end up together? That we’ll be—”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Funny,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek, eyeing Snipe in the far corner of the room, “Then, hey. Compromise. What if we just hang out with no romantic or sexual connotations whatsoever? I wanna get to know you better. You’re cool.”

Aizawa crossed his arms and followed your gaze to Snipe, who was bent over in his seat, cleaning one of his guns. “Think about it. Would you trust a teacher who spends time outside of school with a student?”

“How’s the training with Shinsou going?”

“You are not funny.”

“And everybody knows you’re training Shinsou, and they’re fine with it. You could say you’re training me,” you said, stepping closer to him, looking him in the eyes despise his hunkering down into his scarf, “Please say you’re training me. I want to spend time with you. Hell, actually train me. You could make me strong enough that you don’t have to worry about me, or any bullshit. C’mon, Aizawa. Please.”

“That,” he said, “I can easily deny you. Now, get back to the dorms. I’d like to—”

“What? Why,” you said with a whine, “How can you say that so quickly? You didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah?” Aizawa turned to his desk to boot up the computer. “It’s because you’re already strong enough to take care of yourself. I don’t have to worry about you in a fight,” he said, just barely crinkling his eyes, so you figured that he’s smiling beneath his capture weapon, “Keeping you from being a fool—now, that’s something I’ll have to watch for.”

You groaned. Loudly. And for way too long. “Whatever. May I sit on your lap while you grade?”

“No,” said Aizawa, not missing a beat, “Go back to the dorm.”

“You want me to check on Eri?”

“Sure. That’d be—really nice. Let me know—”

“Yeah?” Grinning, you bounced on the balls of your feet. “How am I supposed to do that? Sounds like I might need a certain phone number.”

Aizawa collapsed in his cracked, leather lounge chair and spun it towards his cubicle desk. “No need. If you don’t shift to me in the next half hour, I’ll assume everything’s fine.”

“Oh, come on. I feel like I deserve some sort of treat for not mentioning your half-chub while it was in my face earlier.”

Aizawa rubbed at his temple, his eyes strained. “I’m busy grading and don’t have time to talk.”

He was staring into a blank screen.

“Fine, you big baby. I’ll concede to you this time,” you said, and before you could lose your nerve, you leant over to kiss the top of his head.

You’d bolted for the door before he could even turn around.

***

It was supposed to be a routine field exercise.

The hero course had been split into teams, each under the leadership of a faculty member, for a field assessment as twenty percent of your grade for your final semester. As an extension of the personal study starting with the student presentations from earlier, you were in the group focusing on stealth headed by Aizawa, along with Bakugou, Aoyama, and Todoroki (who swopped into your group last minute, since Midnight declared that he needed to get away from her group working on public relations). Bummed that no other girls were in the group, you resolved to make it work by being better than the boys. Not to mention that the three included would, hopefully, be dense enough to miss the subtler interactions between Aizawa and you that betrayed something else going on.

The four of you were to know as little as possible about the assignment as possible before going in, so you all spent the week leading up to it making contingency plans (you’d been told not to go out otherwise that week, so Midnight had to do her own work, for once, at Sakura Grove), with maps of the city and subway splayed out on the floor in the common room, along with bowls of trail mix Bakugou had thrown together, claiming that Aoyama’s stuff was bullshit (though you had enjoyed it very much when you ate it in secret that morning). All you’d been told was that you’d be making an escort in secret, without the target even knowing you were there.

No contingency plan could account for this.

A thunderstorm popped up on the radar out of nowhere, delaying the plane’s arrival, and the airport radio signal had been scrambled, fed into a different language, and back again. If you’d been allowed more details during preparation, you’d have more of the story, but all you could piece together now was excruciatingly obvious: the airport’s east wing exploded and caved before the plane even hit it, and now you were trapped underground under wet, crumbly tonnes of rubble, confined to a pocket of space barely tall enough to stand in, with the only structure keeping half of an airport bathroom’s mirrored wall from collapsing and crushing you being the charred, lower third of a column from the airport courtyard.

“You can’t blow our way out,” you hissed at Bakugou, who was climbing his way up the column to prod at the ceiling, “The column’s load-bearing.”

“I know that,” Bakugou said, contorting his upper body and neck as he gawped with his mouth open at the debris above him, “I’m just seein’ if there’s any light from the surface comin’ through, or if there’s anywhere rainwater’s drippin’ in.”

Hunching with his upper back grazing the rubble ceiling at the tallest point in the collapsed space, Aizawa frantically fussed with his work phone (which he genuinely had, after all) and his radio, unable to get a signal. “Be careful with your movements,” he said, mind barely in the conversation, “You could make the debris slip, or it could get weighed down with rain and further collapse. At worst, you want it to settle. Aoyama, are you getting anything?”

Tapping the AI filter on his sparkle shades away, Aoyama tore his gaze away from his handheld device’s screen. “Alas,” he said with a quivering frown. His ankle was being wrapped by Todoroki, who had been careful to refill the place in the concrete where Aoyama’s foot had been with ice, keeping the space intact.

“It’s fine; you’re doing well. Keep an eye on the signal. We want to know if we get one.” Aizawa handed his phone to you, giving you a short nod and the same job. “Todoroki, keep that cavity frozen. Keep an eye out for similar spot about to collapse and do the same.”

“I’m assuming this isn’t part of the assignment, since you’re taking charge,” you said under your breath to Aizawa, your back to the others as you stooped to stand yourself, arms crossed, “What relevant information can you share about the assignment that might get us out of here? Who were we escorting? If we know who they have for allies, then we can start to understand how the signals are scrambled and how to walk out of this situation.”

Aizawa stuck his tongue in his cheek. “None of it’s relevant. Our target has been isolated for well over four years and was being processed by professionals. She wouldn’t have had any opportunity to sabotage this procedure; St. Philomena’s has kept our target from having untracked outside communication.”

An uneasy stone dropped into the pit of your stomach. “St. Philomena’s,” you said slowly, biting your lip, “That’s a women’s penitentiary.”

Aizawa opened his mouth to answer but instead inhaled a mouthful of dust as the earth shook and clattered around you. Bakugou braced the column while you and Aizawa kept the bathroom wall steady, but the mirror shattered and fell with the wall, with Todoroki grabbing you out of the way of the sink from crushing your legs, icing the concrete shards into a makeshift support for the column, enough for Bakugou to twist out from underneath it. You gasped in deep breaths of powdery concrete yet dug into wet clods of silt and grime with the heels of your boots.

The ceiling had caved in by about two feet in height, and if Aoyama hadn’t skibbled away from his spot in the corner, he’d be buried under glass and tile. You experimentally knelt and stretched towards the ceiling—good for you, for having some room to move upwards, but Aizawa could only sit, now. Every heaving breath from your friends was too close for your liking, and the stone fell from your stomach right into your gut when you noticed the steady trickle of water between the rocks and down the column, cutting a clear, ivory path through the grey dust coating it. Bakugou scooted out of the ways of its dripping, letting it instead drain in a puddle next to him.

You and Bakugou nearly jumped out of your skins at the skrrrt of Aizawa’s radio, but nothing came through except static.

“We’re okay,” said Aizawa, once Aoyama started to show signs of hyperventilation, “The static is a good sign. Even if we can’t communicate specifics, they have a location on us. They know we’re down here, and if it seems like they’re taking too long, remember that civilians are the priority. We’ll be all right.”

Claustrophobia.

Not your favourite.

But Aoyama was clearly having a worse time handling it, so it’s better to set an example for him—see how calm you are? See how much you’re not being selfish, curling into Aizawa’s arms for him to pet your hair until it’s over, keeping him all to yourself, even though it’d be really easy to pretend like it’s the size of the cavern instead of your own selfish desires that’s making you touch him. See how mature you’re being, not even touching Aizawa, even though he’s right next to you. You’re being rational about the whole thing.

Todoroki stared off, his bright eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, and he parted his lips, wetting them slightly before speaking. “You should move closer to Aoyama,” he said to Bakugou, “Someone’s hurt.”

“The hell d’you mean?” When Todoroki gestured, Bakugou followed his gaze.

The water’s white path through the dust congealed and blushed deep vermillion as it coursed down the column, falling in thick, steady plops next to Bakugou, the upsplash ticking his exposed skin with red.

“Holy shit.” Bakugou scrambled away the best he could, kicking away from the water and practically into your lap, but he shot you a sort-of apologetic look and shuffled into more of Todoroki’s personal space. “Do you think—it’s not blood,” he said, smearing it on his arm, still running a dark red even spread thinly.

Aoyama cringed. “It’s not going to—it won’t fill up the—”

“No,” Bakugou said quickly, “It’s drainin’ through the cracks. We’re fine, Aoyama.” Bakugou made a point of dragging his hard glare from Todoroki to you, as if to say that keeping Aoyama calm was essential to getting out.

You checked Aizawa’s phone again for any signal, and, sighing, you stowed it to keep from scratching the screen.

“Nothing?”

Shaking your head at Aizawa, you resisted the heavy urge to rest your forehead on his shoulder. You know what? Maybe you could. He’s right there, and if you did it in this situation, it could be read as a simply act of comfort that you could have easily shared with anyone, perhaps. The two of you could stare romantically into the dripping, red goop, talk about your lives together, about teaching your psychotic friends, about sidekicking at Sakura Grove—

“Hey, don’t touch that,” you said, jolting in your seat, to Todoroki, who stopped, wide-eyed, in his odd stretch over Bakugou’s lap before he could prod with his outstretched finger the congealed mass accumulating in the puddle, “I think I know what that is.”

Beside you, Aizawa sucked in through his teeth. “Just once, I wish your deduction skills weren’t so good.”

Without averting your gaze, you moved to elbow him in the chest, hard, but he caught your arm and held it deathly still: he only touched you by your sleeve, though, so no soulmark would bleed through. Odds were that the mark was still furtively hidden behind your ear. Frowning, you tried to wrest your arm away from him, eyes on the falling droplet heavy enough to break the surface tension of the gathered, congealed mass, making the whole thing burst upwards in a dense, ruby smoke.

“Get down, as close to the ground as you can,” you said in a rush, cut off when Aizawa shoved your head to the ground with his hand on the back of your neck, his face inches from yours and only moving closer as he made room for the others to join you, cheek smushed against a patch of intact bathroom tile.

“It’s aerosolising,” said Aizawa, eyes darting over the ceiling, where the mist was rising through cracks in the rubble, “Follow where it’s escaping; we might be able to use—”

“No, you fucker,” you hissed (Aizawa squeezed the back of your neck), “Not all of it’s going to escape. It’s going to condense into liquid again on any surface that blocks it and then drop back on us.”

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on,” spat Bakugou, voice muffled from behind you but strangely reverberating back through the curved metal of Aoyama’s armour.

“We’re only going to be safe on the ground if it doesn’t condense, which is un-fucking-likely the way the thunderstorm’s moistened and lowered atmospheric pressure,” you said, the sound of water rinsing through crannies in the rocks growing from the far side of the cavern, “Aoyama, try to breath evenly but shallowly; you don’t wanna inhale this.”

The knuckles of Bakugou’s heavy glove struck the centre of your upper back. “Dumbass. Just tell him to hyperventilate, why don’t you?”

A drop of red water fell onto Todoroki’s pale cheek, sizzling with the impact as it was absorbed into his skin, a miniature puff of smoke emitting from the spot.

After a moment of heavy silence, Aizawa shifted his jaw, his eyes dark as they focused on you. “Academic protocols are over. Time to share what you know about Serendipity’s quirk.”

You dropped your jaw, even with the grit digging into your skin and jaw. “Who’s the insane person who assigned a bunch of students to escort fucking Serendipity—”

“I am,” said Aizawa, grip on your neck tightening and eyes flaring scarlet so briefly that you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been inches away, “Considering your high level of academic success, I thought you capable enough to complete a more difficult mission than your—”

“Someone just fuckin’ say what her quirk does!” Bakugou’s hand curled into a fist with the fabric of your hero costume taut between its fingers, his fist lay, overheated, between your shoulder blades.

You jerked your shoulder away from him, but there wasn’t any room to go, so his hand stayed on your back, putting distance between the two of you, though his knees and hips still touched the back of yours. “Okay,” you said after settling, glaring directly into Aizawa’s eyes, “Serendipity is the third most dangerous villain in the western hemisphere, evidently being transferred today to the place Midnight and I work, because fucking no one else wants to handle her. C’mon, Aizawa, is that why I wasn’t allowed at work for the past week? So I wouldn’t know? Fucking—” You tried to give a half-hearted kick to Aizawa, but his thumb curled enough around your neck to locate your pulse point, which he pressed down on in warning. “But yeah, her quirk is so volatile and dangerous because—because yes, it’s a sex pollen quirk, but it’s fast, and you can’t solve it by touching yourself, like other sex quirks we’ve seen used for villainy; you have to orgasm at someone else’s hands. And no one can figure out why your internal organs shrivel and die within four hours—”

You inhaled sharply through your teeth as two droplets sizzled into your skin in quick succession, but the squeeze on your neck told you to continue. “Or the brain damage, or—because her quirk’s been studied, but no one can tell if it requires the feed of dopamine to the body, or not getting enough oxygenated blood cells, or capillary damage, or—” Bakugou thumped your back again. “—but no one is immune to it, and it’s fucking terrifying,” you finished, scrunching your eyes shut at the sensation of more droplets searing into your skin and into those around you, each person inhaling more with each individual puff of smoke from the viscous drops.

Tongue too big for your mouth, you trailed off, eyesight blurring as you zoned out for a just a bit, but you lurched back into reality when a hot ache stung the back of your neck and swept through your body. Aizawa retracted his hand faster than a viper striking, his eyes briefly holding the same dread yours did.

Shaken, you pushed yourself up to sit, and to your horror, an enormous gush of arousal pooled between your legs—you snapped your legs shut at the sight of the wet spot on your hero costume (and worse, the dribbling into the gravel), and Aizawa saw, holding a steady, neutral expression despite your visible panic.

“Fuck, baby—”

It hadn’t come from Aizawa but Bakugou, whose hips you’d inadvertently ground against when you sat up. His large hand came to grip your waist, fingers digging in and pulling your ass back against him, and his other hand clamped over his nose and mouth as he pushed himself up. “I’ve always known you smelled good, but this is somethin’ else—”

“Absolutely not.” Aizawa yoinked you away from Bakugou and put himself between the you and the rest, cramping you into the corner with pointed rocks digging into your back, and he held up his hand, Bakugou glaring a hole into his palm, vermillion streaking down his face. “You’re drugged. She’s drugged. Even if you both say you want it, it’s not a reflection of reality.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, but Todoroki tilted to the side to keep his tense gaze on you.

“No,” said Aizawa, using the scant room and the end of his capture weapon to snap in Todoroki’s face, “You’d be ruining the professional relationship you have. You’d be violating her. There’s no way she’d actually want you.”

Bakugou scoffed over Todoroki’s quiet how do you know that, already palming himself through his costume. “I’d rather risk it all blasting out of here than suck Icy-Hot’s dick.” His other hand crackled with the beginnings of an explosion.

“You can’t,” you said with effort, mouth and throat coated with dust as heat rose to your skin, sweat breaking out at your hairline, “If you’re not a heteromorph, Serendipity’s quirk suppresses yours. It—it overwhelms your entire system—”

“You couldn’t mention that before I got hard?” Bakugou scowled, thumb playing with his belt buckle in consideration. “I would’ve blasted us out of here earlier.”

Aizawa shook his head. “It wouldn’t’ve worked—”

Todoroki made a sort of horting noise in the back of his throat, drawing everyone’s attention, before hacking a thick glob of red mucus right onto a spot of white bathroom tile, large trails of saliva trailing from his mouth.

“Holy shit,” you said softly, your eyebrows shooting up, and Aizawa held you back before you could even move.

“Mon Dieu,” said Aoyama, and he removed his sparkle shades to see it without a red filter.

Aizawa’s radio crackled static again, but nobody moved a muscle.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” said Aizawa, his hand still up but hardly deterring an increasingly twitchy Bakugou, who kept staring at you over Aizawa’s shoulder, “Aoyama, you’re probably going to hurt yourself and others if you stay in your armour. If you think you can handle being more vulnerable, take it off. Prop it up between the three of you and us.” The radio hissed again. “We’re going to camp out here until help arrives. Waiting is the heroic path to take sometimes,” he said in Bakugou’s direction, “If you find yourself succumbing to the quirk, that’s okay. It’s not shameful. No one is immune to it. If you can work it out among yourselves, that’s fine. No one here is going to share any details you don’t want out.” But here his voice darkened, and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew Aizawa was shooting a hard, unmerciful look towards them. “But you’re not going to hurt anyone here, and you’re especially not going to take advantage of her because she’s the only woman. To get her, you’ll have to go through me, and I do not intend to be kind.”

“Fucking hell,” said Bakugou, unbuckling his belt and sliding it off.

You were feeling a similar way, but Aizawa had you so backed into the corner that there wasn’t room to take anything off. So, instead of tearing off the increasingly abrasive and scratchy fabric of your hero uniform, you hugged your knees to your chest, thighs clenching, and bit down on your arm to keep from crying out. A choked sound still escaped you as a leather strap on your upper thigh rubbed closer to a more sensitive spot.

You couldn’t even lift a hand to fan your face—but with how heavy your limbs felt, even the promise of cool air couldn’t bring you to attempt it, and instead, you tried to find relief in the cold press of busted bathroom tile at the back of your neck—and you turned your head to feel it against your cheek, too.

Your hips rocked, knocking your legs against Aizawa’s back, and when he turned over his shoulder to spare you a glance, you jolted as far back as you could away from him. Not that you could go anyway but barely half an inch backwards. “Sorry,” you said quickly, shaking your head, “Didn’t mean to. Really. I—” Your heart flipped at his concerned face (himself looking a little red), and a sharp cramp curdled into your lower stomach. “Oh, fuck,” you said, a hand shooting to your stomach and doubling over—but your forehead grazed him before you could, and you let out a quiet yelp before jerking back into place, tears welling at the pain. “Sorry about that.”

Aizawa grimaced at your weak smile and turned back towards the others. You hadn’t even heard what they’re doing, since the blood pumping in your ears apparently deafened you to anything besides your own half-smothered sobs into your arm. 

They were growing louder at their frustration, but they were, for the most part, not directing any of it at you. Hey, is—? Over Aoyama’s armour-wall, it looked like Bakugou might have gotten his cock out to start stroking it; maybe you could get a better look—

“Hey,” said Aizawa, blocking your view when he turned over his shoulder, “Stop all that squirming.” Were you? You hadn’t even noticed. “Remember what I’ve taught you. I know you can do better.”

“Oh, don’t say professor-y things like that,” you said with a whine while, yes, squirming in place, “It goes straight to my cunt.”

 Aizawa closed his eyes for a moment, but he soon opened them and continued, unaffected. “Focus. I’m holding you to a higher calibre than your peers, because I know you can do it. What have you been taught about remaining calm in crisis? Ground yourself.”

“But I—”

“Do it.”

You huffed and tried to settle down into your body, counted, and exhaled slowly as you shut your eyes, waiting for your other sense to sharpen. Body scan—focusing on flowing energy, starting at your head, down to your toes, and back up again. But you had trouble on the return to the top of your head, since every cell in your body screamed to zoom in on the throbbing in your lower half—hard to say what’s tremoring more: you, or the walls of the cavern.

But there’s an infinitesimal sound that drowns every other maddening, oversensitive sensation: from the back of Aizawa’s throat comes a quiet, breathy whimper.

And—

“Oh, my fucking God,” you said, noticing all of the surreptitious ways Aizawa was trying to hide how affected he was: his hand clasped in a knuckle-whitening fist covering his lap, eyes watering with frustration, jaw tensed, neck and hand veins pulsating, sweating through his undershirt, and you?

Wetting your lips, you strained forward to brush his hair aside to kiss the back of his neck, and Aizawa fucking shuddered, the thing passing through his whole body. Though it hadn’t been your intention, your legs spread as you did so, parting on either side of him, and his hair flew into your face as he took in your legs surrounding him.

“Hey, no,” he said, and he pushed back on your legs, willing you to scrunch up to hug them to your chest again.

“I’m not doing anything—”

“You fucking are,” Aizawa hissed over his shoulder, “You’re being a goddamn brat.”

That shut you up immediately. Feeling slick drip out of you, you curled in on yourself, tucking your legs up to your chest like he wanted.

“That’s what I thought.” He turned back to keep guard.

His shoulders seemed wider than before.

 Maybe it’s the heady, prickling excitement swarming in your chest at the unspoken threat of a punishment turned sexual, or maybe it’s the incoming brain damage, but you rounded up every nerve not currently on fire to keep pushing your luck. “Aizawa,” you said, soft enough for only him to hear over the squelching from the far side of the cavern, “If we were alone right now, what would you do to me?”

He didn’t respond.

An easy grin stretched across your face.

“Because I know there’s got to be stuff you wanna do to me, not with me, for how I behave sometimes. But I only want your attention,” you said, feeling a bit dizzy as heat flushed all over your feverish skin, “I know you can’t give it to me, because you wanna be all noble and stuff, but—”

Another cramp had you gasping and hacking up red-tinged spit. Aizawa started to turn his head, but you told him, totally deflated, “Don’t bother. I’m sorry—” You coughed up more red mucus. “I know I’m gross; I know you can’t look at me that way; I’m sorry I’ve been—I’m sorry.”

How can he be so calm? It’s not fucking fair that he can just sit there, cross-legged and sweating, with the scent of sex permeating the smoke-hazy air, and yes, he’s hard, but that’s just the stupid fucking quirk.

You’re dripping and clenching but still so, so empty, and the tears finally overflowed as Aizawa looked over his shoulder at you again. “I’m sorry,” you said again, eyes glazing over and breathing irregularly (for all the talk about Aoyama hyperventilating, you might be the one to actually do it). “I’ll—I’ll stop bothering you; I can handle this. I’ll, uh—” You cut yourself off at another cramp, seizing up at a stray spasm, releasing your hold on your legs and yanking at the roots of your hair. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll get—get Shinsou to make me come—sorry I tried to—I’m sorry; I should’ve left you alone—”

“Stop apologising.” Aizawa twisted to brush away your tears with his thumb, the skin that vibrant pink when he pulled away. “Christ, you’re burning up.” He hand returned to your face, this time against your forehead, and he frowned—yeah, he was frowning before you were pathetically raising yourself off the ground to nuzzle into his hand, to mouth voraciously at his palm, which flushed pink with every pass of your lips, and—

“Fuck,” said Aizawa, withdrawing his hand to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. You made a questioning noise, and to answer, he let his gaze drop to where the soaked patch between your legs dribbled into the rubble. He dragged his hands down the rest of his face. “You’re drenched,” he said, rasping.

A vehement moan from the other side of the space made both of you flinch, with Aizawa making a quick check to ensure their attention wasn’t on you.

You grabbed his capture weapon, pulling him close. “Please,” you said, panting, “Please, ‘Zawa, I’m not as capable as you think I am; I’m not good; I can’t take it. Please—”

His teeth dug into his lower lip as a grumbled scoff came from the back of this throat, and he shook his head. “God, not like this. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

Another loud moan and the sounds of skin on skin from the others brought another wince from the two of you, and Aizawa squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he’d steeled himself, determined and set. “I can’t have you corrupting my protégé,” he said (it was a joke, right? Why isn’t he smiling?), “but I can’t offer you anything more.”

“Wha—?”

Aizawa was nudging your knees open, his eyebrows raised, and when he turned to face the others, he scooted backwards to sit between your spread legs, pinning you between the rock and his back, crowding you in, and oh, oh, my God, you should’ve been embarrassed at how wet the back of his jumpsuit got as he pushed himself back to sit right in front of your crotch, but the first, pulsing wave of relief as your clit rubbed against him washed everything else away.

Did this count? Did this count as coming at someone else’s hands? You found the problem less compelling the more you thrashed against him, grinding your clit against his back so hard that your vision blacked out at the edges, breathing in that terribly awful frustrating sexy combination of pine and sandalwood, desperately huffing it in in gasping breaths and curling your fingers into the back of his jumpsuit to bring him closer: you needed to kiss the back of his neck again, to see that pink mark on his skin.

But it’s as if he knew what you were going to do, because instead of letting you pull his hair aside, he reached back to grab your hand, and he (mercifully) allowed the grab to relax into a hold, letting you lace your fingers through his as he guided your arm around his waist (an evil part of you was disappointed that he didn’t place your hand over his cock, instead of resting your entwined hands on his leg [cute]).

And you were quiet: you didn’t moan, so the others wouldn’t know, unless they could somehow make out your laboured breathing behind the hand you cupped over your mouth. You’re grappling for pressure against your clit, but it’s your shiver when he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb that triggered your orgasm—pounding, rushing, and all at once, the throbbing of your clit taking you somewhere distant and piney, with you slowly coming back to reality by an abrupt pulsing, for some reason, in the roof of your mouth.

And the quirk had passed through you.

It counted.

But it kept you bound in a tired haze, sultry and lethargic and red, and lost in the lingering high of both the scarlet saliva you kept hacking up and that Aizawa let you grind against him until you came, you closed in on yourself and did your best to stay awake. Your brain tried to worry about Aizawa, but the quirk shushed you and forced you into a cloudy exhaustion.

You were out of it when Aizawa’s radio crackled to life, when the rescue unit exhumed your team, when the EMT on duty looked you over. You were still foggy when you were put in a passenger seat of a government vehicle, but the fog dissipated when Aizawa climbed in the driver’s seat and told you to call Midnight.

“I don’t know the number for Sakura Grove,” he said, turning on the windshield wipers, “and I need to warn Midnight that I’m asking her to help me with this quirk.”

Thunder rumbled through the sky and into your bones as he turned into downtown traffic, headlights blurring in the rain. Blankly, you wrestled his phone out of your pocket and began to dial her work number. “Okay, traitor.”

Aizawa’s expression darkened, his face glistening with sweat. “You know that I can’t—”

“So I can’t do the same for you?” you asked, putting his phone on speaker and letting it ring (cranking up the volume to hear it over the rain pelting the windows), “I can’t just, like, hold out my hand for you to grind against, or, God forbid, give you an actual fucking handjob—”

“Stop it,” he said, and he snatched his phone from you, switching off speaker, and you crossed your arms to fume, staring out into the miserably grey morning.

You smushed your forehead against the cool of the window, watching the raindrops chase each other down the glass, and you tried to focus on car horns blaring instead of the conversation regarding Aizawa’s sexual release that he and Midnight were currently having.

When he hung up, you sat up from your slouch against the window. “Is that all you need me for, then? You’ve got the number. You might as well drop me off at the next light.”

Aizawa swore under his breath. “Stop being such a—” He cut himself off, his leg not working the pedals bouncing profusely. “I still need you to enter Sakura Grove.”

That was true. You had three number-codes to punch in for clearance, and there was a thumbprint scan at the building in which you and Midnight worked. Still, you scoffed. “Just get Nemuri to let you in. You evidently don’t need me.”

The hand on the steering wheel tensed, veins pulsing. “First name basis?”

“Some professors like me.”

“Forget I said anything,” he grumbled, and when you turned to the window again, he mashed on the car radio, volume loud over the rain.

After a babble of a drum solo and what sounded like shouting in English, you were able to translate the song in your head by the time it hit the chorus:

“Got it bad, so bad, I’m hot for teacher.”

Aizawa stared, baffled, at the radio instead of the road as the guitar picked up, and he changed stations.

Again, in English, but with a hypnotically alt-relaxed beat: “Can’t tell my friends, ‘cause they will laugh; I love a member of the staff.”

You sneaked a glance at the driver’s seat, where Aizawa was fighting traffic, his erection, and his incredulity at what he was hearing.

“I fight my way to the front of class to get the best view of her—”

Aizawa changed stations before the singer could finish the couplet, and he sank into his seat at the safe sounds of synth and guitar, but you sat up straight, eyes wide and biting back a laugh, because you knew what the fuck was coming:

“Don’t stand—don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me—”

Aizawa smashed the radio’s off button, seething. He ran his fingers back through his hair, and after a deep breath, he opened his mouth. “What’d you do,” he asked flatly.

“Me?” you said, pointing at yourself, doing your fucking best not to smile, “What makes you think I’ve done something?”

Aizawa was panting. Chest heaving. Sweat visibly dripping down his face. Free hand darting between a superfluous position on the wheel, resting on the car door, and bunching up his jumpsuit to hide his erection, which only drew attention to it. “You didn’t—you and Nemuri didn’t orchestrate all this, did you?” he asked, teeming with nervous energy, “It’s a little—it’s a little too perfect for you, to get to see me dishevelled and desperate, to nearly get me to cave into what you want.”

Several feelings flooded you at once: revulsion at the suggestion you made a criminal use her quirk on you, anger that he’d even consider it to be in your character when he’s known you for years (and more anger that he thought you would want to lose your virginity with three other guys in the room), a wretched, clawing desperation to prove him wrong and beg for forgiveness—and a creeping disgust and shame towards yourself, for having been so vulnerable in his presence when he didn’t want it or you.

Time to shut down. “C’mon, Aizawa. That’s not very logical in the grand scheme of things,” you said, scathingly using his favourite word, propping your chin on your fist, and leaning against the window again, “And if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t let it end with my fucking soulmate going to someone else to make him come, especially when I was similarly helpless.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you—”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” you said bitterly, “but I wouldn’t do that. To you or to me. I don’t do things that would humiliate or hurt you.” You scooted closer towards the car window, away from him and his stupid pine aftershave. “I guess I’m a brat, yeah, but I’m not mean.”

To have something to do instead of talk to him, you exhumed the car manual from the glove compartment and started to read it, and you read that dull fucking piece of crap until you were forced to punch in your clearance codes for Sakura Grove.

As soon as he was inside the main building and out of sight, you slammed the manual and the glove compartment shut, and you screamed. No one would’ve heard you over the thunderstorm, anyway. Comforting that the weather was as angry as you.

You unbuckled and cosied up in your seat, glaring at the curtain of mist blowing rain horizontal outside. Lightning illuminated a worker rushing from one building to another, and she had to double back to get her ballet flat, hopping slightly to put it back on.

You don’t have another work shift until Monday, but you kind of wanted to clock in, anyway. It’d be satisfying to bitch about the whole thing with Ito. She’d tear into Aizawa. He deserves it.

Slunking down into your seat, you were struck with new terror: what if Aizawa were right? What if you did, inadvertently, plan this out, by inhaling Ito’s quirk dust a second time? Sex pollen was…sex pollen was a trope. A pretty fucking common one.

Oh, my God.

You clamped a hand over your mouth and tried to work out the logistics. Serendipity was already scheduled to arrive in Japan regardless of you inhaling the dust again, and—fuck fuck fuck. You didn’t like this.

You swallowed thickly, turning it all over in your head, and as the variables overlapped and blurred in your mind, you started to cry.

“Goddammit,” you said aloud, sitting up and dabbing at your face with your sleeve. You’ve already cried a lot today, and it’s not even noon. You’re taking a nap when you get back to campus.

You know who else likes naps?

You fucking sobbed harder, even though you were laughing a bit, too. You decided that you were too worn out to make any sound judgments. Go to sleep once you get back, and think about it when you wake up.

You sniffed and looked towards the door to the main building. God, he’s taking a long time. You’d figure that he’d edged himself to oblivion and back during the car ride, but no—

The next instant, you tensed up, frazzled, because a half-dressed Aizawa’s straddling you, hips jerking, driving into your own and biting into his fist as he came on your shirt, cum spurting all the way up to your boobs.

The groan he released once the spill of his cum slowed to a slight dribble nearly wrecked your ears and stopped your breath. You’re hastily, desperately drinking up details, eyes flicking over them rapidly in case they’re snatched away before you could notice: the weeping, pink tip of his cock, the only part of his dick peeking out of his jumpsuit’s lower half—the trail of dark hair leading up to it from his naval, framed by an infuriating v on his lithely muscled abdomen—all of his exposed, corded muscles of his chest, tendons visibly stretching and contracting in his forearms—and when he wiped that final drop of cum off his cock, it was with the thumb stained with soulmark pink.

Of course, for how much relaxation coursed through his body, it all fled him the second he finally opened his eyes.

You expected that he’d scramble to cover himself up and off of you, but once that initial panic faded, all he was left with was resignation. He yanked up the elastic of his boxer-briefs to hide his cock, and, sighing, he said, “Please. Please don’t say anything. I can’t handle it right now.”

You nodded. His eyes travelled over your face, his expression cracking. “You’re crying,” he said, voice breaking.

“Not because of you,” you said, wiping at your tears, “It’s something I did.”

He wiped away the tear stains on your other cheek. “Let’s find something to clean you up.”

While he twisted to fossick through the console for tissues, you swiped two fingers through the stuff on your shirt. So, this was a man’s cum. Weird. Thick. (You’ve seen some before; you’re not an idiot, but this was your first time, uh, experiencing it. Honestly, it reminded you a bit of the congealed quirk stuff earlier.) You rubbed it between your fingers.

“Oh, what are you doing—no, stop that,” said Aizawa softly, swatting your hand away from your cum-stained shirt. When you eyed the bit on your fingers, Aizawa sighed again. “Don’t taste it.”

He took your hand and wiped it clean, pink ink seeping across skin with every brief touch. He gave you a tissue from the pack he found for your tears, and he used the rest to wipe off your shirt.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anything else for you to wear,” he said, checking the backseat.

“It’s okay,” you said, balling up the tissues and putting them in the centre console, “We’re going straight back to campus. I’ll just shower and go to bed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Aizawa, and he lifted himself from your lap and moved to cross to the driver’s seat.

You grabbed his arm to stop him. “You should, too. Don’t run yourself dry.”

Aizawa froze, considering, and then he nodded, slowly sinking back onto your lap.

He braced his hands on his thighs. “I’ve been cruel to you.”

Too exhausted to argue, you shrugged. “You have your reasons.”

“I shouldn’t be so cold to you, though. It’s been wearing away at my conscience,” he said, patting his pockets on his thighs and moving down to his calves. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he said, “Give me your phone. You deserve my number, at least.”

You pulled yours out and opened a new contact before handing it over. “You’re sure you’re comfortable with that?”

“Yeah,” said Aizawa, tapping the screen, “So long as it doesn’t…lead to anything out of bounds. And…maybe you can stick around for a while next time you shift in your sleep.” He shot you a smirk as he returned your phone.

The contact name simply read Shouta. No surname or honorifics. Just Shouta.

Heat rose to your face, but it was much pleasanter than when it had earlier that day.

“Are you good to drive back to campus?”

Tilting your head, you pocketed your phone again. “Yeah, I’m up for it.”

“Good,” he said, climbing off of your lap and into the backseat, “I’m going the fuck to sleep.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair

[animeyanderelover]

Hei! This was my request If kidnapped darling(fallen for yandere now but still in denial) waking up one night while yandere is a sleep and says “if only we meet in different situation, maybe we can become a normal couple “ and kiss yandere cheek before fallen back asleep, the twist is, yandere is fake sleeping or wake at some point and hear it, what would yandere do? You can choose yandere of your choice, feel free to reject it if you want, dont forget to take a rest and happy new year A!

Pray for me, I'm having a math exam next week.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, manipulation, abduction

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @kanaosprotector

If only...

Zeref Dragneel

⬛️There is definitely lingering guilt in those black eyes as the Wizard knows that even if his Curse doesn’t work on you, he’s still taken your life away from you. Any normalcy and familiarity has been ripped away from you in favor of quenching his selfish desires. His love is just like his magic, black and all-consuming. He longs for your company, he longs for your love, he longs to be able to show vulnerability when with you, to trust you and find comfort in you for his tragic destiny. Wishes that have been long locked away but resurfaced when he discovered that you were able to withstand his magic and showed him kindness, before the whole abduction of course. That’s how you’ve indirectly been cursed too, cursed to be stuck with an immortal lover who will never let you leave his side.

⬛️Instead you tag along on his long journeys where nothing can harm you under Zeref’s watchful eyes. Plans to escape have been long abandoned since you know that he turns unstable when he can’t find you which is bound to lead to an outburst of his dark magic. You don’t want to trigger such a dreadful event that would kill all life surrounding him except you which would leave you in the aftermath of destruction and death with an enraged yet frantic Zeref rushing to you to see if you’ve been hurt, red eyes glaring scarily at you. He’s never hurt you and he never would, you know that but you also know what he’s capable off and how far he’d be willing to go for you which keeps you from straying away from him.

⬛️Yet there’s also pity that you feel for this man and that guilt only grows the longer you’re stuck with him as you see him more for the lonely and suffering man he is. If he has no reason to be emotionally distressed, the fearsome wizard is a mere clingy and insecure boy who wants affection of which he’s been deprived off for so many years. His long life has gifted him plenty of knowledge which he gladly shares with you if you’re curious about anything, he’s such a great listener as you could talk about nonsense and he’d still listen intently, content with just hearing your voice. His attempts in courting are clumsy yet adorable as you realize that he’s genuinely trying his best despite the situation you’re in because of him. Your feelings remain hidden though as you’re unwilling to forgive him for what he’s done to you as you cling to the grudge you intend to hold.

⬛️Zeref has gotten used to sleeping very little as his curse won’t allow him to die in either case so he spends nights often just getting lost in his thoughts. You’ve amplified the turmoil of thoughts for him yet he insists for you to lay together at nights in favor of the closeness he wants. That’s how he becomes witness of the secret you don’t want him to know but he stays perfectly still despite the fact that he feels his heart picking up it’s pace and warmth filling the aching hole inside his chest. He keeps on pretending until he knows that you’re back to sleeping before he pushes his body closer to yours, mulling your words over in his head. He never lets you know that he heard you that night, content enough to know for now that you deep down love him. He should be able to manipulate your feelings somehow if the knowledge of your feelings alone isn’t enough anymore.

Sigma

☁️Sigma, for the lack of a better word, is a mess. You’d have never guessed that a visit in the Sky Casino would end with you permanently stuck there, all because of the man with the bi-colored hair, the owner of this place. You know that there is guilt in him, you just know it and you’ve tried multiple times to use that guilt against him, to convince him to free you yet he always changes the topic. It’s as if he doesn’t want to have this discussion, doesn’t want to hear from you that he’s taken away everything from you. Instead he adorns you with presents and gifts as if trying to change your mind.

☁️Because what you don’t seem to understand is that whilst he’s taken everything away from you, you’ve given him everything. All questions he’s ever had, you’re the answer to all of them. His doubts, his persistent insecurities about his own existence are solved because of your presence. He has finally found a meaning in life as he sees his existence as your lover. You make him a someone but unfortunately you deny him that as you don’t return his feelings which has Sigma turning frantic with passing time, Please, please just acknowledge him once! Don’t just treat him like he’s air!

☁️Sigma shares his own thoughts and insecurities very openly with you. He does so because it’s important for him that you hear about his feelings in hopes that you might understand him better. So you find naturally out about his very unique life that one day just started. He was thrown into this world without any guidance and you begin to understand his struggles more as you can sympathize with some of his thoughts. Sigma is struggling, he always is but everything regarding you will be done with his utmost concentration and energy. He memorizes everything about you to be able to make your new home more comfortable, if you’re feeling unwell he barely rests as he’s constantly worried for you and you know that he’d never harm a hair on your head. He’s always giving 110% for you and anything you ask him for, as long as it doesn’t include leaving him.

☁️It��s rare for him to sleep as he’s workaholic and often too stressed to fall asleep in the first place. That changes when he’s next to you because your presence is soothing for the anxious male. His sleep still is bumpy though as he tends to wake up a lot which is why he hears your words, words that nearly make him choke on his own breath. He’s doing his best to remain still although his body is slightly trembling as a flood of emotions crashes down on him. He feels like he could cry but bites down on his wobbly lip to silence himself, your sleep is more important. As soon as he’s sure that you’re back to sleeping though, he turns around and presses his forehead against your back with tears in his eyes. You don’t know how much those words mean to him because you’ve just admitted that you love him. That’s all he wants, all he needs. Your confession has filled him with new hope, new determination that he hasn’t failed completely in life.

Tokito Muichiro

🌫️With Muichiro you might as well converse with a wall and would have probably better chances than with the Mist Hashira. Why? Because Muichiro never budges, no matter how hard you may try. So stuck is he in his belief that he needs to protect you because of demons, especially if you're anything under a Hashira and even then would he still keep on thinking this way. In all honesty, it is so exhausting and worst of all is that his aloof expression so rarely changes which makes you believe all the more that he doesn't take you seriously. Perhaps in some way or form Muichiro truly does look down on you as he labels you as weak.

🌫️After the return of his memories you would expect him to become a bit better but instead he only grows clingy and paranoid. He's lost his entire family which makes you the only person alive he cherishes and loves and this knowledge blows his behavior out of bounds. He may express his emotions a tad bit better now but it doesn't help you in the least as his delusions get even worse. What was previously just the mere belief that you need him to protect you since he's a Hashira whilst you're weak now is a dedication to only truly protect you as he would without a doubt choose to save you over an entire village of humans. In the end you gained nothing as you're still stuck in the house he keeps you in, only that Muichiro now is at least more semi-aware of the situation but ultimately too paranoid to let you go.

🌫️At least it doesn't feel like you're talking to a stone anymore after his memories have returned as he actually initiates small talk and interactions between you two instead of expecting you to come to him and show your gratitude and affection. By all means, he can return to his cold and distant demeanor any time but now there's almost an innocent and bashful side to him, one that makes you question if this is how he used to be as a child before joining the Hashira. Even in his normally more aloof form can he be more affectionate, grabbing your hands in his own calloused ones and bringing you wild flowers or little presents whenever he returns from home. Does it help you forget everything he has done to you? Absolutely not but his new attitude slowly infects you with romantic feelings for him.

🌫️It's probably a result of all of his Hashira training but Muichiro has an unusual level of awareness of his surroundings even when he's asleep and that's why he hears your silent confession, accompanied by the soft kiss you give him only to turn back around in order to fall back asleep. Perhaps that's why you don't notice the way his normally hazy blue eyes clear up all of a sudden, stare wide-eyed into the darkness of the night. It's a look filled with such astonishment and wonder, perhaps something that he hasn't felt since his carefree days as a child. Muichiro is happy in that moment. Your heart on the other hand drops when he turns around moments later to cuddle closer to you as you realize that he's heard what you just said. He doesn't say anything about it that night nor the days afterwards but you fear that he's taken your words as a confirmation that you do feel happy and loved under his protection.

Mei Mei

💴​Mei Mei is an openly selfish woman and she admits that to her darling from the very beginning. Her darling is such an odd case in the woman's life who so far has seen only material things and money as the most important thing in her life. Whilst she is still looking forward to the potential of people around her and can recognize said potential of such people, there has never been a specific individual who has ever meant more to her. Perhaps that's what spikes her interest so much in you when she starts recognizing her growing feelings for you from a relatively early point on. Perhaps it is that fascination that is ultimately your demise as she decides to keep such a precious darling such as you as you have a worth to you she never anticipated. An emotional worth.

💴​You can not escape her. Her Black Bird Manipulation allows her to have eyes quite possibly everywhere, her brother Ui Ui is absolutely devoted to her and whilst jealous of you because Mei Mei treasures you so much willing to help her to please her and make her happy and then there's the fact that this woman is dirty, dirty rich and money rules after all. The Jujutsu Sorcerer is so condescending whenever you try to outsmart her and escape her, an amused scoff on her beautiful face as she belittles and berates you for thinking that she'd ever let you leave. For thinking that you had a chance in the first place. Why would you even want to work so hard when you can just lean back and let her spoil you rotten as her darling lover.

💴​You're infuriated with her and don't even want all of her presents that much but weirdly enough there's something about Mei Mei that still manages to captivate you. She has a mysterious charm on her, one that makes your heart flutter despite your firm decision to not give in to her. She's a true master of small touches and words, gestures that make your heartbeat pick up it's speed and despite her arrogant impression at times, you know that she is capable of being kind to others, especially to you. You're special for her and you can't deny that little ego boost you receive because of that knowledge. Your emotions get so confused with time as the feeling of her hands brushing against your cheeks and her cool voice with that edge of a teasing lilt always make you feel something you don't want to feel for her. No matter how big her home may be and no matter how much money she spends on you, a cage is still a cage after all.

💴​You wouldn't fully know but Mei Mei has noticed how your walls have started to crumble for quite a while now, noticed the bashful gaze of yours or the heat radiating off of your face. She's a woman who has planned ahead and has worked patiently to get you where you are. So your quiet confession accompanied by the kiss on her cheek aren't anything unexpected but she would by lying if she would claim that it doesn't cause her to grin victoriously and delightfully. She doesn't see the need to let you know that she knows though because truth be told, she enjoys seeing you trying to deny your ever-growing feelings for her. She has already almost reached her goal after all so she can afford to sit back and watch you struggling with your love for her. Your words have still pleased her nonetheless and you notice that she seems to be in a exceptionally good mood after that night.

[jokingmisfit]

Not Yet Forgotten

Platonic Future Hamato Brothers x Neglected Reader

Warnings- Angst with Happy Ending, Reader is Casey Jr's Sibling, Neglectful Parental Figures, Severe Injuries, Mentions of Blood and Broken Bones, Near Death Experience, Hurt with Comfort, Head Injury, Mention of Reader having Mystic Powers

Notes- I may make a different version from 3rd person pov to show how bad the boys felt. I don't know anything about medicine so please forgive me for any incorrect everything. Wrote this right before therapy and I think it shows. Lol, Enjoy!

Your breathing was fast, but muffled through your hand. It felt like your lungs were on fire. You don't know how far you've run, but you hope that it's far enough.

Only an hour earlier, Krang dogs surrounded you and your crew. The rest were already dead... You were frightened and angry. You knew that if only they'd taught you how to fight as well as they had Casey, then you wouldn't be in this situation. They didn't care for you. Your brother being far too important, apparently, for you to be cared for at all. 

Made sense in your mind. You didn't look like your mother like Casey did. Didn't share a name or even blood. Just another "stray" she'd picked up, but she loved you. In her own way. Too bad when she died the knowledge she left you with was all you'd be given. No sessions with Leonardo. No kind words from Michelangelo or Raphael. No scolding on health or knowledge from Donatello. It was like you were invisible. Unimportant. 

You and your team had done so much. Achieved amazing things, but every achievement was overlooked. Every injury was ignored. Perhaps you did learn a few things... Fending for yourself. That didn't help now, though.

Climbing the rubble. You could feel the parts of your body move in ways they weren't made for. You were strong but how strong would you have to be to defy death itself. You had sent out the SOS so long ago, yet it seems as if nobody will come.

Your blood stained broken concrete rocks. You prayed to whatever higher being was above that, just this once, they wouldn't overlook you. That the people who were supposed to care the most would save you.

You finally collapsed at the top of the heap. Only small peaks of the red sky could be seen. You were safe, for now, but you were bloodied and broken. Your stash of medical supplies were carried by a dead man. You wouldn't last, not long, at least.

You hit the alert again seeing as the purple light went out. Hitting the button over and over as your breath thinned. It felt harder to breathe with every second. 

An alert came back to you. A communication. You heard April once say it was like a phone call. Whatever that was. You pressed the button to hear the voice on the other end. It was Donatellos.

"Are you there? Can you hear me?" His voice was wavering. Something you'd never heard before.

With a raspy tone you whispered out your response. "You got... got te loc-location right?"

He sighed on the other end. "Yes we have it. A rescue team has already found the rest. Where are you hurt?"

"Hehe." Your laugh is cut off by coughing. Blood bubbling up in your lungs and throat. Looking at the gashes and stuck out bones, you answer. "Every- Everywhere..."

Silence met you on the other end. Silence and the clicking of the keyboard.

A deep breath, and you talk again. "I know... I- I know you all... Probably don't- don't care... but I don't wanna die... I don wanna die." A sob escapes your mouth, cutting off your sentence.

The pain and fear causing tears to cascade down your face.

The clicking stopped at your words.

Donatello responds after a few seconds. "They're almost there... I- You need to stay awake and you'll be fine. We- I won't let you die."

"I'm- I'm so sorry..." Your breath stops in your chest. "I shoulda- should of done better... I try- tried so hard... Was never good enough. I can't- can't breathe." Your words are heavy and painful as you sob them out.

"HELLO!" You heard Leonardo yell.

Before you had a chance to answer a light came from your gear. The communication line ending and sends an alert to the other mutant.

Footsteps could be heard from multiple beings. Talking and panic is heard as you stare at the broken roof with blurry eyes.

Raphael's face coming into view before anything else. If you weren't in so much pain you'd smile at him. Instead you stare as he picks you up gently. His words sound soft but melt in your head making them unknown. He holds you close and moves quickly. 

A whisper escapes you. "you came..." The statement soft and broken from your lips. The only evidence he heard you being the tilt of his head as he stares with worried eyes.

You held on tightly to your consciences. You held on for however long it took to be laid on a table. Long enough to have something put over your face. Long enough to feel a hand pet your head slightly as your eyes finally close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hurt. Everything hurt. Your eyes flutter open, but they're unfocused.

"They're awake!" You heard someone yell.

You flinch at the noise. A whine escaping the back of your throat from the pain.

"Be quiet. They're not going to react well to loud noises." You heard another voice scolds matter-of-factly.

You huff out heavy breaths. You try sitting up only for a large hand to, gently, hold you down. You blink several times to try and see better. Figures, shapes, and colors bounced around but nothing appeared sensical. 

"How are they?" A voice says nervously and stern at the same time. Their footsteps stop towards you.

The hands that were moving on and around you pause for a moment before an answer. "They're discombobulated."

"What the hell? English, Donnie." The voice answers.

Your voice is scratchy and comes out in squeaks. "Don- Donnie?"

Your question goes unanswered, but you were glad you finally knew who one of the voices belonged to. You were with Donatello.

"They had a head injury, so their brains jumbled. They can't see straight... At least we can be sure that they can hear fine." He answers with distaste.

A hand sets itself on your head and plays with your hair. The voice above you talks nervously. "So shouldn't we be talking to them? They're probably so scared right now. Aren't you?"

You realize that the end was directed at you, but you lost the energy to answer. You tried to speak, but nothing came out, as if your body didn't agree with your mind."

"Mikey’s right," The deep voice spoke. "We need to comfort them right now."

You wanted to tell them not to force themselves. That you knew they were only here because you were hurt. That once you were better they'd go back to the way it was before. But you couldn't speak, and the feeling of actually being cared for felt so nice.

The weight in your chest may have been painful, but it felt so good to be loved. If your head wasn't so fuzzy you might have cried.

Your name was called, almost urgently. You hadn't realized you weren't listening. So caught up in your own head that you forgot to listen.

You looked slightly to the person calling out to you.

"You still in there, kid? Lost ya there for a second huh?" You could hear the smile in his voice.

That was Leonardo right. He's the one to smile when things are bad. That means the deep voice was Raphael... All four of them were there for you.

You wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Maybe you were imagining things?

"You need to relax. Your heart rate is spiking..." Donatello tells you strictly.

Raphael's voice picked up from the foot of your bed. "Don, I don't think they can necessarily control that... Y'know?"

"Sigh," Donatello answers him. "I'll fix it myself."

You felt the bed adjust, setting you up slightly. You felt his hand on your arm fiddle with something sticking out of it.

You felt calmer, almost, instantly. Surprisingly, your vision cleared slightly. Things still blurred but you could make out their faces so much more.

A crowd of turtles that left no space to see what room you were in. The lights still felt too bright, yet they were dimmer than any room you’ve been to. The blue lights gave you more of a clue. The screens lights bouncing and reflecting off the men. Was this Donatello’s lab? It had to be.

With your eyes now clearer you were able to hold them onto the figures separately. Their blurred faces held concern, fear… It was definitely a sight.

“You feelin’ better?” Raphael asked sweetly. He loomed over the edge of the bed, yet still he managed to keep a distance.

Despite the medicine making you feel better your head and chest still layed heavy on the bed. The only response you could manage was a broken noise from the back of your throat.

Leonardo laughs sadly. “Y’know maybe we shouldn’t ask them too many questions, heh.”

If you could shake your head in agreement you would. The other three certainly did, or at least it looked like they did. 

You took a deep breath in and out letting everything sink into your skin, into your bones. You had your own list of questions you wanted to ask them. Like, how bad is the damage? Why are all four of you here, there’s more important things to do? Did any of the others live?

You could feel all four eyes on you. Feel them stare like you were the only thing worth looking at. It confused you, so you turned your eyes to the only one who you knew had all the answers, Donatello. 

“Right, well I suppose you want answers. Yes?” He asked, oddly nervous. “Where to start,” he whispered to his screen before sighing. “You have a major concussion, obviously, you have two broken ribs, a broken leg, a sprain in your right arm, you have large lacerations on your abdomen, and you had punctured one of your lungs.” He lists off easily. “All of which have been cared for, however you will be immobile for quite a while. I estimate approximately 12 weeks and 3 days. Do you understand?” He asks you calmly.

You huffed at him, hoping he would understand that you were listening. He seemed satisfied with your response and went back to typing on the screen. Of course you were slightly confused by this as you hoped he’d elaborate on why they were all there.

Clearly noticing your confusion Raphael talks with guilt. “I think they’re confused on why we’re here…”

He says it like he can read your mind. 

“Why would they be confused about that?” Michelangelo laughs out shakily.

“Probably, because we’ve neglected them for years.” Donatello answers within seconds.

Leonardo being the next to speak, like they were taking turns. “We really fucked up that bad, huh kid?”

You couldn’t hold his gaze. The guilt was so evident on his face. You’d never imagined they’d realize what they’ve done. You pictured you’d grow into an adult and leave the Resistance without anyone knowing you were gone.

“Listen, I know- We know we should’ve done better for you…” Leonardo sighs. “You are just as important as everyone else. As the Resistance. As Casey Jr. I was always so caught up with him and being a leader I forgot that I had to be there for you. You always seem to have a hold on everything. Always seemed so sure. So confident… I never thought you might need help to. It was such a terrible mistake and I should have known better, should’ve been more and done more for you,” He leans over and grabs your hand gently. “I promise to never act like that again. I will never let anything hurt you like this. I will never leave you alone again. I swear on my life kid I will do anything, everything to make this up to you.” Tears from his eyes fell onto your clasped hands.

You couldn’t hide the shock from your eyes as you were crying too. It was like your body finally jump started and tears fell so freely.

“You were always so strong,” Raphael starts. “I don’t think any of us thought that our lack of attention would hurt you so much. You always shined so brightly on your own.” He chuckled sadly. “I never thought you’d need us so much, Jr’s strong too, but he relied on your mom more than you so when she died we- I thought you could handle yourself. You’d never seemed to waver. I’m so sorry.” 

The regret he held in his words weighed heavy on your mind causing more tears to fall from your eyes.

“My turn already?” Michelangelo laughed, tears in his own eyes. “Heh, I remember this one time I was talking to one of your group members, she seemed so excited to join your team. I remember I asked her what she was so excited for… It was you. She told me that she had seen you and your team fight. Saw how well you worked together, but she was mesmerized by you. She told me years ago she idolized me for my mystic abilities,” He laughs quietly. “But she admitted in this conversation that she idolized you even more. Because you were more like her than I was and your mystic abilities were so strong…” He pauses with a sad silence. “A part of that conversation fortified in my mind that you didn’t need anyone. You were able to figure everything out all on your own. Lead your own team. Fight and save lives like a pro. I should have taken into perspective your feelings. I used to be so good at feelings, but it seems I’ve lost my way a little bit. But I promise not anymore. You’re never going to feel left out again. I guarantee it!” He ends off happily

Silence fills the room. The only thing truly heard was the buzz of machines and various sniffles.

The silence was cut off again by Raphael. “Donnie… Are you going to say anything?” He asked both encouragingly and authoritatively.

“Sigh.” Donatello stated tiredly. He turned to face you more. “I’m not good with emotions. They were never something I could grasp fully. I’ve worked hard on fixing that, but I see in some areas I have… failed. I personally assumed if you needed help you would come to me, however looking back it’s clear you had and I pushed you away.” He states uncomfortably. “As an adult I should have been more prepared and I wasn’t… You were just a child, you are a child, and you’ve experienced so much on your own. I can assure that we plan on remedying that.” He ends sincerely.

After listening carefully to all their words your heart swelled with happiness. You were still afraid that they may not be true, but you were hopeful and so glad to finally be seen. The love you felt radiate off them in blissful waves made you smile. You forgave them as soon as their words left their mouths. As soon as they told you they cared. There was nothing better than feeling true love for what felt like the first time. You couldn’t help but be happy.

“Get some sleep, Kid,” Leonardo says. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

[anintrovertedechoe]

Gentle.

Satan x Reader

gn reader

Obey Me! Shall we Date

If you could use one word to describe Satan, it would be gentle. Lesser demons (and maybe even his own brothers) would call you insane for saying so, but the truth was there for anyone to see, if they would just look. Wrath, as destructive as it may seem at first glance, was passion, and the green-eyed ‘monster’ you deemed your closest friend was full of it. And within the throes of his devotion, there was gentleness. Gentleness in the way he handed you his precious tomes, trusting you with its safekeeping. Gentleness in how he talked about his favorite furry friends. Gentleness in the way he looked at you, eyes filled with all things kind and good in the world.

How ironic, for you to see nothing but benevolence in the being borne from grief, and pain, and violence. But people seem to forget he was born out of love, too. (After all, are grief and love not the same side of a coin?) Love for the sister he never got to meet, love for his brothers whom he pretends to hate, love for the people held so dear you would start a war to protect them. That love was what drew you to him. A demon so full of passion and sorrow that you couldn’t help but be intrigued.

You didn’t always think so affectionately of Wrath, you will admit. The day you first truly met him, you were terrified of him. You genuinely thought you would (and most likely, you would have if not for Lucifer’s interference) die. A refused pact would have led to your demise. (And oh, dearest fourth-born, would you really give up your life to spite the eldest? Or was it because you didn’t think your life was your own?)

It wasn’t until the body-swapping incident with Satan and his most despised brother that the two of you began to grow close. (For how could he not follow the one who made him realize with a gentle strength that he is no one’s but his own; not but a broken off piece of a soul’s rage, but a being strong and deserving of being the fourth brother?) It turned out that Wrath itself had a weakness, and he was in no way loathe to admit it. It only took a stray alley cat for your bond to begin to grow. Cat treats and makeshift toys began to take place in your pockets, and you swear you’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than Wrath’s gentle smile.

Your thirst for knowledge in the strange new world you were dropped in was also a growing factor in your relationship. The day he lent you a book from his own personal library was a day you would never forget. A milestone of trust, and the day a funny feeling took hold in your chest.

Hangouts went from every few weeks, to every few days, to the point where you could not find one without the other nearby. The two of you were attached at the hip (much to the other brothers’ dismay), and maybe that’s when you started to recognize the buzzing affection within you.

Love had taken root in your heart, and grew, grew, grew until there was no space left to fill. Your days felt brighter and the color green colored your vision when you closed your eyes. (you had never felt so full of warmth before him. You never wanted this feeling to stop.) Every thought you had now consisted of the boy you fell for, kind, sweet, gentle. (You shamefully wondered what it would be like to be within the throes of passion with your blonde (imaginary) lover. You could never look at him in the eyes the days after, and a certain lust filled strawberry blond would taunt you with a smirk and knowing eyes much to your dismay.) There was no room for the burning anger you used to hold for the hellish situation you had been thrown into by a certain prince. Only love. Kind, gentle, love.

If only there wasn’t enough space left for the fear and doubt that overshadowed your courage.

There was no questioning that you were bathing in your love for the fourth Avatar of Sin; Wrath had stolen your heart and you had blissfully let him. What you doubted was if those feelings were reciprocated or not. And if they were, just how much love did the blond hold for you the way you held for him? (Oceans worth, love. He would challenge God himself if he had to in order to keep loving you.) You cherished the friendship the two of you had built from the ground up, and the possibility of ruining it with unrequited feelings froze you with fear. You were only human, at the end of the day. And Satan was the fourth born brother, Avatar of Sin. He was Wrath, and love, and passion; ethereal, beautiful, gentle. (your bond deeper than the depths of Tartarus, you misjudge him, darling. Could you not see how he adored you so?)

So, you decide to wait. You tell yourself you’re imagining the flush of his face when he shows you his romantic poetry that somehow suspiciously resembles you. You remind yourself his gentle smile is for all of those he cares about, not just you. You wait for him to come to you, for fear of having your tender heart torn to shreds. You wait until you are sure. (Will you ever be?)

And Satan?

It infuriates him when your ignorance thwarts his romantic plans. The rage within him comes to life when the ‘I love you’’s are interpreted as platonic and his attempts at courting you seen as anything but romantic. He’s not mad at you; no, never you. Moreso at the people who convinced you that you are not the most loveable being in all of the three realms. His wrath destroys him from the inside at the fact that you don’t see yourself the way he does. Your smile makes him week, your laughter brings him to his knees. How could Satan possibly not love you? There is no reality that exists where he would not fall for you.

But Satan has learned patience; he has honed the skill over his thousands of years of life. He knows to wait until you learn to see yourself the way he sees you. He has learned to be soft, and kind to those he loves. And Satan? Satan loves you. For you, he will wait. For you, he will be gentle.

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

Mc is a Siren

Lucifer:

why is it no surprise for Lucifer that of course that the one time they thought they would get a normal Human it was neither a Human nor normal

he could have easily dealt with not normal but what the purpose in an exchange program with the Human realm if they didn´t even get the required amount of Humans

at least they are helpful in some capacity but that´s only for keeping his Brothers under control and even then he can´t depend on them most of the time

as long as they don´t die or cause someone important to die he could live with it

and while their singing doesn´t work on him like it would on most creatures it is still a nice thing to listen to

Mammon:

are you willing to donate some of your scales to the very Great Mammon?

because if not don´t ask him why some of the old ones that you lost went missing

it totally wasn´t him and it totally didn´t pay for the very expensive watch he saw and wanted

it´s all just a coincidence also he got you a present so if he may or may not did something that could make you mad he already has something to make up for it

and if you still have some leftover scales he would gladly get ride of them for you

as long as you don´t mind they way he´ll get ride of them

Leviathan:

he has one very important question for you, can you or can you not talk with Henry 2.0

if you can´t good enough but if you can whatever he says is a lie and can´t be trusted

and this isn´t just because Henry knows how he usually acts when nobody is around and Levi is embarrassed about it

but he also found you watching him from the tanks once so you might just know how he is and he doesn´t know if that is a good or bad thing

but so far you haven´t left him so it might be a good thing… for the moment at least

Satan:

he wants to know if you know any deep sea secrets or if your older than him even

he might even be curious is the rumors of Sea Cats is true, he will be very disapointed and angry if you say no

but it´s better than lying to him even if you mean well

he might ask you to catch fish for the stray Cats though, he would hate it if that was the reason they like you more than him

another thing he would be interested in if sea creatures also have literature considering paper is out the question

and if you do he wants to read some it could have some interesting knowledge or just be entertaining stories

Asmodeus:

no matter how freaky you might look he will love you either way

and if it´s true that Siren´s are enchanting singers he would love to sing a duet with you, just for fun or to see who can put more people undere their spell

he will definitely win but don´t feel bad it´s not like you had a chance to win anyway <3

but he would definitely ask you if he can have some of your scales as decoration

doesn´t matter if it´s for his clothes, something in his room or to just put in a little bottle to keep something of you close to him

Beelzebub:

he wonders if he were to eat you that you would taste like fish, would you be willing to lose a piece of your flesh so he can know?

no? okay but he would be willing to take a really really small one

if he´s not allowed to eat a piece of your flesh can you at least give him some leftover Human? he would really love to eat some again

but he´s not allowed to because of the exchange program and some Humans would feel “insulted” and “unnerved” as if Demons aren´t willing to eat other Demons

he might also ask you if you could get him some deep sea fish, there are plenty of them he would love to eat but could never get to

Belphegor:

okay but as long as he can cuddle with you he doesn´t care what you are

you could be a fish for all he cares and it wouldn´t change a thing for him

he might use you to nap at the bottom of the ocean though, it would be nice to finally sleep some place where somebody doesn´t constantly bother him

also he might think your a tiny bit cool because you can kill and eat as many Humans as you want

he would definitely ask you to bring back some parts for Beel, he said he missed eating Human because it´s forbidden because of the exchange program