#he's gruff and unsure and hates doing it alone

[rottiens]

⊹ ˚. WRIOTHESLEY ┊ sfw, pinning, praising (good girl), awkward tension, fem reader. divider creds: cafekitsune.

Wriothesley's venomous tongue over time has become steeped in the sarcasm with which he speaks to his employees and criminals. Sarcasm that he has used as a shield to guard himself and his emotions over time. The same sarcasm and repressive tone drips out of him with you, the nurse at the Fortress of Meropide even though the things you do are not necessarily bad or wrong, not enough for him to snarl at you with disdain at least.

You are rarely surprised by his “Good girl” when you do something right —you are rarely praised or acknowledged for it —or his “Bad girl” in that caramelized tone he uses whenever he considers that, indeed, you have not done something to his satisfaction which includes not turning in a report on time or not arriving early to meetings he proposes as Duke of the Fortress.

After a while of breaking your back and feet overtime, taking care of him and the other prisoners you stop expecting recognition from him. You give up and accept that your boss is a grumpy dog with a very strong shell that you are unable to reach no matter how hard you try so you stop doing it, stop trying to please someone who seems to hate everyone.

The door behind you groans with a gruff grunt, begging for someone to grease its gears. You look up from the notebook where you scribble today's important notes to look at the culprit for interrupting your moment alone when you realize it's the Duke himself; he's wearing his tie a little loose and his hair more disheveled than usual indicating the long day he's had so far.

“Boss?” You smile sideways at him glancing at his disheveled appearance.

“I thought no one was here,” he excuses avoiding looking at you.

Wriothesley walks straight to the railing and leans back with his forearms on it admiring the view of Fontaine in the distance, the waves swaying more bravely as the sun sets, making a swirl of his hair and yours.

“I can leave if you want to be alone.” You offer despite being here first, willing to pick up your notebook that you clench between your fingers. This was your safe place after all, where you could sneak off to scribble in your journal when the day gets too heavy to pretend you're not mentally and physically tired.

“Stay.” Is all he says taking you by surprise. Wriothesley isn't even looking at you, his eyes are busy watching the waves move back and forth, you don't judge him, you too come here to do the same.

With a sigh you return your gaze to the deep sea for just a moment before you refocus on your notebook and the notes you have written, you grip the pen a little tighter and begin to write once more swiftly.

The cool wind soon turns cold, biting through your arms covered by a thin cloth shirt that does little to cover you. The breeze chills your cheeks along with the tip of your nose and as much as you've enjoyed the silence shared alongside your boss that somehow feels comforting you decide it's time to leave.

“Are you cold?” his voice startles you, pulling your eyes away from the ink soiled sheet to meet his, his cheeks flushed from the weather and brows furrowed. Wriothesley looks directly at you, first into your eyes and then briefly at your lips, causing you to lick them involuntarily.

The cold seems to freeze your brain, or maybe it's the eye contact. You don't respond quickly enough, but you still notice how he sheds his coat and, with a step forward, places it around your shoulders. The action immediately comforts you making your body warm internally, as the blood flows stronger. His coat envelops you, chasing away the cold and providing you with a sense of security— His natural scent mingles with the soft fragrance of his cologne, making you feel enveloped by his presence. Between unsure blinks, you finally thank him.

Wriothesley hesitates, and if the dim light doesn't fool you, you sense how the blush on his cheeks seems to expand a little more toward his ears.

“Do you want to go to dinner? I could use to get out and distract myself for a while,” the duke offers, taking a quick glance at your notebook before turning to you again. “You can tell me a little bit about what you've written in that journal of yours.”

You wonder how he knows about the journal, and the first thing that comes to your mind is that perhaps he has been watching you, noticing your writing as you work. You think maybe he knows you're a good employee, even if he sometimes has difficulty expressing it.

You reach into your back pants pocket and pull out something, which you silently offer him. Wriothesley looks at the white band aid with red hearts and a smile escapes his lips.

“For your scratch,” you comment, pointing to your chin with a light touch. “Rough day?”

“It always is at the Fortress,” he replies, unwrapping the band-aid to offer it to you. “Do me the honors?”

You take the band-aid from his hand and, taking a short step forward, reach out to place it over the scratch. Wriothesley's body serves as a shield against the wind for a moment as you share a moment in silence.

“Thank you,” he says in a soothing voice. “For always taking care of me…and everyone else,” he adds the last quickly.

You give him a smile ignoring how that makes you feel.

“Now about that dinner.”

“Ah, yes. I'm craving barbecued ribs, I know a place.”

[hiraya-rawr]

fix me up, lover boy

synopsis !! they like you and they help fix your appearance

characters !! Butler Elzer, Ayato, Zhongli, Diluc

note !! gn!reader but mentioned maid role in elzer's. slight suggestive implication in elzer and ayatos? and yes WEBTOON ELZER IS ON HERE BC CUTE BUTLERS–

— E L Z E R .

As a servant of the winery, you were required to keep up appearances. It was necessary when representing the Ragnvindr name after all. Adeline was especially strict when it comes to an out-of-place tie or a wrinkled skirt.

Tonight was no different; master Diluc was holding a gala, displaying the newest collection of wine. Your fellow maids had already left to help serve the influx of guests, but you lingered just outside the main hall, struggling to fix your headband.

You almost didn't notice Elzer calling your name.

"(Name)? (Name), the other maids are looking for you."

You look up to see the butler holding a tray of champagne glasses, upon seeing your struggle, he carefully places the tray on a console table.

"May I?" He reaches up with gloved hands, gesturing to your head piece. You nod as he adjusts the hairs out of place, tying the intricate lace with the proficiency of a trained butler. All the while you stare up at him. He wonders if you could notice the pink dusting his cheeks.

Once he's done, his hands linger as they fall to your cheek, brushing an unnoticed strand away.

"You're looking presentable now." He says softly, face much too close to yours. His hand stays on your cheek and you briefly wonder why isn't he pulling away.

"Just presentable?" You inquire back.

". . .More than presentable." He pauses, then adds, "I fear you might outshine the lavishly dressed nobles in the main hall."

Your breath hitches, his eyes never leaving yours. There's a thumping in your heart from such a comment. "Elzer?"

He leans in a bit closer, the hand on your cheek pulling you in and–

"I hate to break the moment but there are guests without champagne glasses waiting by the door." A gruff voice cuts through. Diluc crosses his arms at the other end of the hall, an eyebrow raised.

"Master Diluc! My apologies, we–"

"Young Master, I was just about to–"

You start in unison but Diluc only waves you off, "You both have the day off tomorrow, isn't that right? Enjoy all the time then but not when there are visitors to attend to." He scolds and you both nod.

The redhead makes his way back to the main hall, but before that he turns once again, "Or, y'know, there's always time later tonight once all the guests are gone. Do enjoy yourselves." A ghost of a smirk crosses his face as you both turn as red as your master's hair.



– A Y A T O .

Traditional Inazuman clothing were difficult to put on alone, especially the decorated ones. It's not easy to arrange layer after layer with all their ribbons and knots.

So please forgive your amateurish abilities when the knot behind your back started to fall apart, loosening the entire wardrobe along with it in the middle of a teahouse gathering.

It was Ayato who immediately notices your quiet distress, pulling you aside behind one of the screen doors before anyone notices.

"I thought I secured it." You whine, hands on your face to hide the slight embarrassment. He only chuckles, turning you around to witness your disaster of a so-called-'secured knot'.

"You tied it like a shoelace." He says it a matter-of-factly, voice stuck between amusement and disbelief, unsure if he wanted to laugh at your misfortune or question how you thought this could ever be secure.

"Just please tie it properly for me. Archons forbid anyone finds us here and assumes– erm..."

He smirks, "Assumes what, exactly?"

"You know what." You feel him handling the ties on your back.

"It's not as if it would be a bad assumption."

You huff, "It would be bad for a bachelor to be caught up in a scandal."

He laughs, it's lithe and almost melodic sounding. "What an overreaction, I'm merely tying some knots."

You pout at his disagreement, wanting to justify yourself: "This is the work of the house-help, not the Yashiro Commissioner. Although if you enjoy it so much, you could do it for your future spouse everyday."

"I wouldn't have to do it everyday if you learned how to do it on your own." He talks back, almost nonchalantly, a habit– and you swiftly turn to face him.

"What?"

". . . what?" He repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"You said. . . " Your eyes narrow at him in confusion. The realization, the implication, settles in his mind slowly.

"Ah. . . " Lavender eyes stray away from yours, seemingly interested on the wall beside you, "I misspoke."

"I said your future spouse." You try to bite back the teasing smile on your lips, a hidden laugh on the tip of your throat, "You didn't even hesitate to say–"

"I said I misspoke!" He turns his back on you but you see the flush reaching his ears, tinting them pink.

You muffle a laugh, "Should I learn how to tie knots, Ayato dearest?~ Or should I leave that up to you?"

He groans, a hand hiding his face, "We should go back to the party. People would start assuming things." The screens slide open as he briskly walks out, leaving you to call out to him in glee.

"People would assume what, Ayato!"

– Z H O N G L I .

"I wonder what I would look like with red eyeliner." You mutter, observing the way his hand -steady as rock- brushed the signature red eyeliner on the edges of his eye.

"Would you like to know?" He smiles, slipping his free hand to cup your chin and pull you close. Your breath hitches.

"Don't move now," he says, voice low, "We don't want it to smudge." You almost nodded, but his fingers kept your chin locked and close to his.

A soft brush caresses the underside of your eye, moving to the corner and flickering gently to form a wing.

"Is... is it done now?" You ask. He doesn't respond, instead, he smiles and gently moves your face to the side.

"The other eye as well, darling."

— D I L U C .

Kameras weren't that known outside of Fontaine, but because of privilege and wealth, Diluc had managed to get the latest prototype with ease. The mechanical device looked interesting to you, the fact that it could produce an image even faster than any painter sounded magical.

So when Diluc suggested you both take a "photo" together, you were excited to say the least and wanted everything to be perfect.

"Do I look all right?" You ask, turning to him as you pat your clothes down. He glances you over and you feel yourself shying away from his gaze. It's a little strange to have the aloof man act attentive over appearances.

"There's rice on your– no, not there, over–" He pauses, glancing at you, almost hesitant before muttering an "I'll do it."

A gloved hand reaches out to your hair, brushing it away with his fingers. It's strange to see him so close to you when the gentleman usually keeps his distance.

"There."

He takes a step back. You exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Ah, is it good now?" You ask.

"Yes." He nods and stands stiffly in front of the kamera, waiting for you to take your own place. Later on, you'd wonder why Diluc would refuse to show you the produced image, huffing how "it didn't turn out right. we can have another one taken next time.", unknowing of how it perfectly captured the blush on his cheeks and the way his eyes were not on the lens, but on you.

note // thinking of shy ayato, i think it still fits his character well. he could be teasing most of the time but catching him off guard would be cute too. and i hope you like elzer's part!! it's been in my drafts for so long (months, actually) that im glad to finally post this. lemme know what you think of short works like this!

masterlist 2 // commission a writing!

almost forgot the taglist... // @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir @shizunxie @bluriie @aestellia

[urmomschocolatemilk]

➜ Simon Riley x gn!reader

➜ 990 words, breakup angst

➜ finished an old piece real quick, it is very unedited but lets not talk abt that! Also unrelated but does anyone else feel like music videos have died...idek if that makes sense.

You wanted to erase him from your mind. Make it as if he’d never existed and spare yourself the heart renching pain that burned your chest as you stared up at the ceiling blankly. The little memory’s of the two of you seemed to project themselves onto the dimly lit white plaster. Each one flashed in your mind like a slideshow. It felt as if someone was reaching into your chest and crushing your heart in their hand with each scene.  

This feeling of heartbreak was foreign to you, you’d never been so devastated over a breakup. So what made him so different?  

You didn’t know how to deal with this nauseating, gut renching pain that seemed to explode from every inch of your body. Your face was swollen from crying, eyes blood shot as they stung with fresh tears. Your body trembled in exhaustion, heavy sobs turning into pathetic whimpers.  

Your hands came up to cover your face as the tremors in your body amplified as another wave of grief hit you. 

He was only one person who could quell the pain you felt, but he was also the cause of it. All you needed was to hear his voice. That alone would be enough to soothe your broken heart. You were sure it wasn’t appropriate to call him. You knew very well it wasn’t. No one calls their ex. 

But your hand seemed to have a mind of its own though, leaving your face to rummage around your nightstand table. You barely heard the loud clatter through your cries as you pushed various items off your nightstand in a desperate search for your phone. Your fingers grazed over it shortly after pushing one of your perfume bottles over, and you greedily grabbed at it, renching it off the charging cord to unlock it.  

You have to squint against the harsh glare of the blue light, your tears obscuring the images displayed as you swiped onto his contact. You’d never hit call so fast in your life, clutching your phone like a life line as your mind begged him to pick up. You knew he wasn’t asleep, he rarely slept much to start with, and when he did he’d doze of around two or three am, never earlier. It was still only twelve.  

Time seemed to stretch on excruciatingly slowly with every ring, your whimpers becoming desperate and the tears flowing faster.  

Finally, after what felt like an eternity the ringing stopped abruptly and your phone beeped to signal he’d picked up. Your raw sob was ripped from you as you heard his gruff voice filter through the speaker.  

“Hello?” He sounded groggy; voice laced in exhaustion, but you couldn’t care.  

“Simon,” you choked out, your chest heaved, relief washing over you at the sound of his voice. 

From the other side of the phone his eyes widened, all hints of exhaustion leaving him in an instant. He sat up, fully alert now.   

“Y/n?” He asked incredulously. You replied with another sob, this one much louder than the last. He was frozen, unsure of what to do as you cried, it hurt him to know he was the cause of your pain but the rational part of him knew you were better off without him. The sounds of your cries tore him apart, and your next words hurt even more.  

“It hurts so much Simon,” You cried, “and it’s all your fault. I hate you so much.”  

“I know love...” he whispered, speaking more to himself than you as hiccups began to break your pained wails. “It’s for the better though.”  

There's a pause of wordless silence, only filled with the sound of your tears. His heart thumps in pain, spreading the poison of guilt through his body, pumping it into his veins. It’s as if you’re trying to make him feel worse about this than he already does as you try to gather enough strength to speak through your sobs and translate the garbled screams of thought going off in your head.  

“No-” hiccup. “No Simon, you don’t get to say that-” hiccup. “Because there is nothing better about this,” you don’t have to specify what ‘this’ is. He knows exactly what you mean because he feels it to. He hears it with every sob, and cry, he feels it with every pang of his heart and word spoken to you under such circumstance. Circumstances he caused.  

You continue, “and you can sit there, in your stupid plain apartment, and go out with your stupid friends and you can pretend that the last year meant absolutely nothing to you but I know that at the end of the day, when your lying in bed waiting to fall asleep in a cold, empty bed, it hurts you just as much is it hurts me.”  

Simon doesn’t cry, you’d never seen a single tear even build in his eyes. You’d even used to joke about how there was no heart under all that military gear, but at this moment he feel his eyes sting with the foreign feeling of tears, and his throat tightens. He swallows heavily at your words, blinking rapidly.  

“Why’d you call me sweetheart?” You’d say the nickname makes you sob even harder, but you're not sure that’s possible. You’re too hurt to lie to him.  

“B-because I needed you Simon,” you want to scream at yourself.  

“Even though I’m the one who hurt you?” he questions idly, throwing the covers off himself and rushing to grab his car keys. A half laugh leaves you and it almost brings him to smile, but its quickly followed by another sob.  

“Even though you’re the one who hurt me,” you repeat back to him in confirmation, and for some odd reason he feels his heart swell with love. He slips on his shoes quickly, and opens the door, you can hear it creek on the other side of the line.  

“I’m on my way sweetheart.” 

[ashbrat488]

Sherlock and his cane...

Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) x Female OC

TW: impact play, light bondage, sex… (as always, 18+ only)

Word Count: 2,593

Sherlock sighs, gripping his cane as he enters the New Year’s Eve party his brother, Mycroft, was throwing. He hated these parties almost as much as he hated his brother. But he knew that two things would make it worth it; one being the whiskey and two being the girls his brothers would hire. The girls were always top-notch and down for whatever he wanted to do. And to say that he needed a release was an understatement.

He allows the young maid to take his top hat but keeps a tight hold of his cane as she blushes under his gaze. He smirks, basking in the hold he had over women. He shakes his head gently as he hears her giggle before turning to rush away from him. He turned swiftly, entering the lounge where women danced in the middle of the room as gentlemen pretended to remain composed, drooling over themselves.

He rolled his eyes, crossing the room to the bar to pour himself a drink. He brings the glass up to his lips just as he feels someone smack his shoulder a little too hard, causing him to spill some on his jacket. “Fuck…”

“Ah… language little brother. A foul mouth makes you sound uneducated.”

Sherlock scoffs at his brother, refilling his glass as Mycroft comes to stand beside him. He brings the glass up again, this time the amber liquid disappearing down his throat. “What do you want, Mycroft?”

Mycroft laughs, grabbing the bottle to pour them both a new glass and nudging Sherlock’s shoulder. “Come on, why so gruff?”

Sherlock doesn’t answer, only turning around to take in the sight of the half-dressed women. A few of them threw looks at him as he stared back, taking them in. They were all the same… all a little *too* eager. No, he wanted someone different, someone more timid, unsure… inexperienced.

“Oh… on the hunt I see,” Mycroft offers with a snicker as he watches his brother finish his second drink before pushing away from the bar, stalking slowly through the crowd of people.

A few women come up to Sherlock, running their hands on his chest as he shakes his head, shrugging them off. He stops near the door where a young, brunette girl he didn’t recognize danced slowly, stopping as he approached her. She hung her head down as he took in the sight of her dusty pink lingerie hugging her curves. He grabs her chin between his thumb and forefinger of his left hand, lifting her chin up to him as she blushes. He was drawn to her, her innocent face pulling him in. He couldn’t help but to take in the sight of her full cheeks and pouty lips. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? I’ve never seen you at a party here before. You new?”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbles shyly as Sherlock’s grin widens, moving his hand to tuck a tendril of dark hair behind her ear.

“Are you a virgin?”

Her eyes widen as she swallows hard, shaking her head. “N—no, sir.”

He makes a clicking noise with his cheek, dropping his hand to his side. “Should have lied.” He watches her squirm in her spot, rubbing her thick thighs together as he chuckles. “No matter. Come with me.” He grabs her hand, obediently following him as another man stands up to grab her other hand, causing them to stop.

“You can’t just show up and take who you want, Holmes.”

“Funny, because that’s exactly what I’m doing…” Sherlock brings his cane up, smacking the man’s hand, forcing him to release her with a grunt before he shoves the end of the cane into the man’s abdomen, causing the man to fall back onto his chair. He ignores the other men grumbling and drags the girl up the stairs to his bedroom, practically tossing her onto the bed as he slams and locks the door behind them. “Name, girl.”

She swallows, suddenly more nervous now that she was alone with the infamous Sherlock Holmes. “I—Is—Isabelle, sir,” she manages to stutter out as he grins, pulling her to her feet in front of him.

“Get undressed, Isabelle.” He moves to the chair in the corner of the room, relaxing back into it as he watched her drop her robe to the ground. She began to undo the ties of her corset as his cock began to grow in his slacks. “Slower…” he demanded as she nodded, pulling at the laces slower before dropping the corset onto the ground, displaying her breasts, nipples turning hard against the cool air of the night.

She sits on the edge of the bed, rolling down her stockings slowly as she felt Sherlock’s eyes burning through her, the heat in the room rising. She stands back up, facing toward the chair as she tucked her thumbs into the bands of her underwear, stopping when she sees Sherlock stand up.

“Turn around and drop them.” He shrugs off his jacket, setting it neatly on the arm of the chair before kicking off his shoes as he watched her comply, bending over slightly as she dropped them to the ground. He cocked his head to the side, seeing just the hint of pink between her legs, glistening and ready for him.

She shifted nervously in her spot as she felt him approaching her from behind. This wasn’t her first time with a client, she got into the business only a few months prior when her mother kicked her out, no longer wanting to feed and house her. But this was the first time with someone as well-known as Sherlock Holmes. And she knew all too well a few of his favorite proclivities. The excitement and anticipation filled her as he moved to stand in front of her and she darted her eyes to the ground.

“Stop looking at the ground. Look at me,” he demanded a little too harshly as he grabbed her chin to force her blue eyes up to his. “Good girl. You only look down if I tell you, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hands behind your back.” He smiled as she raised her chin, straightening her back as she placed her hands behind her back, pushing her breasts out. “Good.” He stands in front of her, bringing a hand up to her neck, dragging his fingers gently down to her right breast, grazing over her nipple as she squirmed slightly.

She saw him smile before moving behind her, feeling his breath on her neck. Her eyes fluttered at the feeling of his lips on the base of her throat just as she felt him wrap something around her wrists. “Wha—”

“Shh,” he whispers, using one of her stockings to tie her wrists together behind her back. “Here’s how it’s going to go. You’re going to do what I say when I say it… and if you’re good I’ll take care of you. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.” She sucks her lip into her mouth as she feels arousal pooling between her legs.

“Good. Now… if you want me to stop at any time, you say peach.” He smirks as she giggles and he reaches around to wrap his hand around her throat, lifting her head toward the ceiling, “that funny?”

“No,” she breathes as he nips at her ear.

“Then say it, say peach…”

“Peach,” she whimpers as he releases her swiftly, pulling away from her.

“Good girl. Now bend over the bed and wait.” He watches her hesitate before doing as he commands, bending over the bed with her head facing to the side, bottom in the air. “Spread your legs. I want to see your pussy.”

Isabelle spreads her legs as she hears rustling behind her, the anticipation growing in her core as she breathes heavily.

Sherlock takes his time, undressing as he sets his clothes neatly on the chair in a pile. He grabs the base of his cock, giving it a few relieving strokes before grabbing his cane and approaching her from behind. “You have a marvelous backside, dear Isabelle.”

She opens her mouth to speak just as she feels the stinging of the cane on her flesh, forcing tears from her eyes with a gasp.

“Now what do you say? I complimented your beautiful, round, bottom, Isabelle. What do you say to that?”

“Th—tha—” Another gasp as the cane comes down once more, this time on her other cheek and she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Do you want me to stop?” He runs his hand along the two new red marks that were already welting as she whimpered.

“No…” Through her watered eyes, she sees him lean over to look her in the face, the stinging subsiding as the pain turns to pleasure, shooting down to her pussy.

“Have you ever been caned before?”

“No,” she repeats softly as he smirks.

“Only a few more then,” he promises as she nods, swallowing as she braces herself.

Only a few more turn into more than she can count, tears now streaking her cheeks as she barely mumbles out a “peach.” Her head spins slightly, as if she were floating, causing an almost euphoric feeling.

“Sorry…” Sherlock tosses the cane onto the floor with a huff, looking at the welts that now began to bleed against her delicate white skin. “I lost myself for a minute.” He leans over to brush some hair out of her face, wiping her face with his hand. “Are you okay?” He watches her nod slowly, whimpering as he smirks, bringing her back to him as he almost lost her in her sub space. He keeps his eyes on hers, giving her a few minutes as he runs his hand down her back, over her bottom to her wetness. He drags his middle finger along her slit, down to her clit, rubbing gently as she moaned softly. “Good,” he whispers, standing up behind her once more.

She squirmed against his hand, trying to push back against him as he slid one finger into her, turning his palm toward the ground to curl his finger down. She moans as slips a second finger into her, thrusting them in and out slowly.

Sherlock groans, feeling every ridge inside her as he moved his fingers slowly. “You’re so tight and wet for me. I can’t wait to feel you gripping my cock, Isabelle. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” she practically begged as Sherlock chuckled, removing his hand. He grabbed her wrists, pulling her down onto her knees at the foot of the bed before turning her back toward him.

“First… open your mouth, sweet girl.” He smiles down at her as her blue eyes shine up at his and her mouth falls open, her tongue sticking out. He moans softly as he pushes slightly forward, rubbing the tip of his cock along her tongue.

She rolls her tongue around the tip, before flicking the underside as he hissed above her. She giggled softly, allowing him to insert his cock into her mouth as she wrapped her mouth around him. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking him into her mouth, uncontrolled drool dripping down her chin as she did.

Sherlock panted, resting his head back as he gripped her hair, guiding her on him. “Fuck…” he grunted, pulling his cock from her mouth. He gripped it, holding it as he guided her mouth onto his balls. He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth as she pulls a ball into her mouth, sucking gently before pulling off with a small pop. “Yes, you’re far more experienced than I was expecting. Stand up, I want to feel your pussy.” He helps her to her feet, crushing his mouth hard against hers, one hand around her throat, the other on her back, keeping her body pressed to his. He kisses her for a while, taking his time to lay claim to her mouth with his tongue as she whimpered, against him, arms straining.

She stumbles slightly as he pulls away abruptly, causing him to chuckle. She gasps as he nudges her back, making her fall onto the bed as she tries to shimmy up to the pillow.

Sherlock laughs, crawling onto the bed toward her, flipping her onto her stomach, pushing her shoulders down as he pulled her hips up. “Ready?” He asks, not waiting for a response as he thrusts his cock into her hard, her moan stifled by the pillow under her. He stills, his head falling back as his fingers dig into her hips. “Fuck… I was right, you feel so fucking good.”

“Sh—Sherlock,” she begs softly, turning her head to the side for him to hear.

“I know, sweet girl.” He keeps hold of her hips, pulling out before pushing back into her hard, over and over again, feeling her hips shaking under him. With every stroke out, her pussy gripped him, pulling him back in again. He grunted as she pushed back against him. “Your pussy is so needy, isn’t it?”

Isabelle doesn’t have to respond as he grips the stocking around her wrist with one hand, his other hand wrapping around her. She moaned as he pressed his middle finger to her clit, rubbing in small circles as his cock stretched her.

Her moans were barely audible, coming out as almost gasps as she gripped him. He moved into her faster, no longer wanting to hold back as her sweet moans filled the room. “I need you to come apart all over my cock… grip it good, Isabelle.”

She whimpers and moans, her eyes fluttering closed as her entire body tightens, the orgasm rolling through her like crashing waves, her mouth falling open, screams falling from her.

“Yes,” he grunts, leaning forward to wrap his hand around her throat once more, feeling her pulse and contract around his cock. He leaned down to her ear, “that’s my sweet girl,” he growls, thrusting hard into her one last time, burying himself deep inside as he emptied himself in her.

She whimpered as he pulled away, feathering kisses down her back as he undid her wrists, allowing her to collapse onto the bed. She doesn’t say anything, just laying as she hears him walk over to the corner of the room to the small water bowl as she hears the ringing of a washcloth.

Sherlock sits on the bed beside her, dragging the cool towel along the welts on her bottom as she winced under him, turning her head toward him to watch him. When he finished, he used the cloth to clean between her legs, standing up to take the cloth back to the bowl. When he turned back to the bed, Isabelle was snoring softly as he chuckled. He grabbed the blanket, pulling it up over her before pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

***

Isabelle woke up with a groan, sunlight burning her lids as she turned away from the window, forgetting about the stinging on her bottom as she flinched. She whimpered, looking around to find herself alone in the bedroom. She moves to stand up beside the bed, finding a note on the nightstand along with a small tin jar, a single rose, and a bag of coins. She smiled, lifting the rose first to take a small whiff before opening the note.

Salve for that beautiful bottom of yours Rose for the sweet blush of your cheeks Coin in hopes to see you again… You know where to find me… -SH

[rorywritesjunk]

(post top surgery crocodile needed to happen. sunny actually gets to boss him around this time. it's still pride month and i'm thinking about him and then remembering healing from my own surgery and woo boy, no matter if you wear deodorant or not, your pits stink. also, yes the fic this comes out of has sunny miserable a lot of the time, but being sunny she tried to not be miserable and do what she could to be happy, so this is what she wanted to do which was take care of someone)

"No."

"You can say no but I have to do it."

"I do not like it." Crocodile grumbled as he unwillingly removed his shirt as Sunny opened the container of salve she had been given. Iva had instructed her that the salve needed to be applied once a day to ensure the incisions healed properly. Crocodile put up a fuss every single time and while it was a little frustrating, Sunny also thought it was kind of funny.

This towering, brutal, terrifying man who threatened Sunny into a marriage with him was currently sitting on the edge of their bed, grumbling as she looked the incisions over, making him lift his arms as high as he could so she could see how far back they went. She had only seen him shirtless once before their visit to Iva and had seen what he was dealing with. She thought the surgery was the right choice because he seemed less gruff even if he was still healing up.

"I don't care if you don't like it." Sunny replied as she checked the other side. There was a little redness but it didn't look worrisome. "Ugh, lower your arms for a moment. I may need to wipe you down first."

"Excuse me?"

"You stink." Sunny told him. "I don't expect anyone to bathe regularly on a ship, but you're recovering from Iva and you're extra smelly okay, so let me get a cloth and water and I'll give you a quick kitten bath."

"A what?!"

Maybe she should have been a little more cautious with her words, but his reaction was entertaining to her. First she said he smelled and now was going to do what to him? A kitten bath? What did that even mean?

She left to the galley for a bowl and two cloths, returning a few minutes later. He stared at her as she dipped the cloth into the bowl, soaking up the water before wringing it out. She looked at him and gestured for him to raise his left arm.

"I'm just going to scrub your pits, Crocodile. Since you're not moving your arms that much you stink a bit more, okay?"

He clenched his jaw and gave into her order, carefully lifting his arm as high as he could before there was resistance. The muscles were still tight, restricting his movements. Sunny was quick and gentle in her movements, not wanting to cause him more discomfort. Next she did his right arm, making sure to be just as gentle, before grabbing the dry cloth.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" She asked as she made sure he was dry before applying the salve. He shivered when she did that, finding the areas around the scarring was very sensitive. It felt weird when she'd touch him.

Crocodile shrugged and grumbled something under his breath as she wiped her hands clean. He hated the salve. It was tacky, gooey, and while it seemed to do the job he hated that he had to have help applying it. Sunny stepped into being his caretaker during this without hesitation, but he hadn't wanted her to. He didn't want her to see him like this.

She draped the cloth over her shoulder and looked him over. Usually she left him alone after this, sensing he needed time by himself, but this time she decided to try something. There was a moment of hesitation, but she took a step closer to him just as he looked up at her. She smoothed his hair back before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Thank you for um, letting me take care of you." She said, sounding a little unsure of her words. "I'm sure it's the last thing you wanted but I'm glad to do it, okay?"

He nodded and wrapped his arm around her, tugging her closer until she stood between his legs. He rested his head against her chest and she tensed up, confused for a moment, but he just sighed heavily and relaxed against her. Cautiously, she reached up and put her hand on top of his head, letting him rest against her.

"... why did you call a sponge bath a kitten bath, my darling?" He mumbled against her. Sunny blushed and stroked his hair gently.

"I thought it sounded cute." She confessed. "And thought you'd rather have me call it that than a sponge bath, that's all."

He chuckled softly and looked up at her. "You're too sweet, darling."

She shrugged, cheeks pink, and leaned down to kiss him softly. He grinned, sliding his hand up her back, but she reached back and caught him by the wrist.

"Nope, you're not allowed to do anything strenuous, remember?" Sunny scolded him gently. "Not even that. Doctor and wife's orders, got it?"

"You're horrid."

"I know." She giggled, smiling as she kissed him on the forehead. "I'll go make you some lunch, okay? You just rest."

[thana-topsy]

[Seventeen]

Part two of my Ralof/Hadvar quickburn. Read part one here!

-------

Hadvar hated Helgen. 

Not because the people were unpleasant or it was an ugly town. In fact, Helgen was nearly as picturesque as Riverwood. It sat nestled in the center of Falkreath Hold behind tall, fortified walls, close enough to the Throat of the World that Hadvar never felt too far from home, but deep enough into the massive pine forests that venturing there always felt like a journey. 

No, Hadvar hated Helgen because anytime he and Ralof visited, Ralof would always abandon him for Ingrid. 

It was in Hadvar’s opinion—a well-informed opinion at that, seeing as he was Ralof’s best friend and knew him better than anyone else in Skyrim—that Ingrid was a terrible match. Holding a conversation with her was like holding water in a leaky bucket. Hadvar had tried talking to her, tried to get along with her, for Ralof’s sake. But it was useless. She had about as much depth as a mud puddle. Plus, she wasn’t even a promising shield maiden. He’d always thought Ralof would find himself a woman fit to be his equal—someone courageous and true, strong in battle, with finely-honed wit and a spine of Skyforge steel. But instead he was fixated on Ingrid. 

She giggled at even his worst jokes while leaning forward onto her knees, the dip of her neckline exposing the cleft of her soft, ample breasts. Hadvar would always avert his eyes. Ralof did not. Her father was the innkeeper, and she’d sneak them bottles of mead from his collection. She was good for that at least. 

And thus, as with almost every trip to Helgen these days, Hadvar found himself alone, a bottle of mead as his sole companion and sorry consolation prize. Just before sunset he climbed atop one of the guard towers, finding the post empty. He trudged over to the edge and leaned against the stone wall, gazing down at the town’s inhabitants. The market stalls in front of the main keep were closing down for the evening, vendors rolling up their wares and shuttering their stands. Life continued on with or without him, and in that moment he felt profoundly unimportant.    

Hadvar turned away and slid down the wall to sit on the ground, pulling the cork from the mead bottle with his teeth and spitting it out. The act made him feel like a hardened bandit. He took a long pull, grimacing at the sweet burn it produced just behind his sternum, and smacked his lips. He wondered what Ralof was up to? Probably had his hands up Ingrid’s skirt by now…

“Oi, no loitering milk-drinker!” came a gruff voice from the stairs and Hadvar jumped, eyes going wide as he jerked to look.

It was Ralof, ascending the stairs with a shit-eating grin and a bottle of mead tucked beneath his arm. 

“You should have seen your face!” he laughed. 

Hadvar’s heart thudded like a war drum against his ribcage and he scowled. “What are you doing up here? Where’s Ingrid?” 

Ralof waved a hand, wrinkling his nose as he walked over. “Bah, her father is making her help out at the inn tonight. I think he’s onto us…”

“He didn’t catch you two—”

“Nooo. I’d be a dead man walking, are you kidding?” He let out a knowing laugh before lowering himself to sit down next to Hadvar. Their shoulders brushed as he shifted to pull the mead from beneath his arm. “What are you doing up here?”

“I was bored,” Hadvar said. He took a bitter pull from his mead. “I don’t know why you drag me to Helgen with you when you always end up running off to get your hilt polished.”  

“You sound jealous,” Ralof said with a smirk. “Don’t worry, my friend. We’ll find you a nice girl. I think Ingrid’s got a friend—” 

“I don’t want a nice girl,” Hadvar spat with a scowl, hunching over to rest his forearms against his knees. His ruddy brown hair curtained around his face.

Ralof paused for a moment, seeming thoughtful. He twisted the cork from his own mead bottle before taking a quick drink. “A… nice guy then?” he offered, sounding unsure. 

“What!?” Hadvar sat up so fast he sloshed mead onto his pants. “No! That’s not what I meant!” He could feel heat pooling in his cheeks, his ears so hot he was sure they’d sprout flames. 

Ralof raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

Hadvar let out a frustrated growl. “What I mean is… I just—” He exhaled sharply, letting his head fall back against the stone wall to look up at the sky. The sun was beginning to fade, leaving a soft cloudless gradient of pale blue and yellow. “I just miss the way things used to be, is all. There’s all this talk of—of another war and…” He groaned, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands before taking another swig of mead. 

“If there is another war, then we fight,” said Ralof. 

Hadvar looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then down the neck of his mead bottle. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple.” Ralof shrugged and took another swig. “If the Empire wants to lick the boots of the golden elves, they’re welcome to do so. But they don’t get to drag Skyrim into their mess. And they don’t get to rip our gods from our hands.”

Hadvar continued to look into his mead bottle, rolling the neck between his palms. “...I just don’t think it’s that simple,” he said finally. 

“This topic is going to ruin my buzz,” Ralof declared. 

Hadvar scowled. “What do you want to talk about, then?” 

“Nothing.” 

So they sat in silence, each sipping their mead intermittently. Someone down on the street below let out a bellowing laugh, the large wooden gates creaked open and closed as caravans left the fort, the night time summer insects began to whirr in the treetops. 

“Y’know,” Ralof said after the silence had stretched on for an appropriate amount of time. “Sven told me that he plans to start courting Camilla.” He let out a snort. “That skeever-brain with a sharp girl like her.” He nudged Hadvar’s shoulder with his own. “She’d do better with someone like you. Y’know… You and your honeyed words.”

Hadvar made a noise of disbelief. “Honeyed words?” 

“Aye. You’d make a proper bard, I think.”

“That mead must be poisoned. It’s turned your brain to troll fat.” 

Ralof laughed. “This is some of the best mead around. Be grateful.” He reached over to clink the neck of his bottle against Hadvar’s. “Skol.”

“Skol,” Harvard repeated automatically, his tone flat.

“Eyes to the sky, Hadvar,” Ralof said after a beat. “We’re not fighting today, right?”

“...I s’pose not.”

“Then we leave those worries for the future.” 

They sat in silence for a bit longer, their shoulders pressed together, and Hadvar leaned against Ralof more than was probably necessary. After another moment, Ralof rolled forward onto his feet and pushed to stand. 

“Come!” he declared. “Enough moping.”

“Where are we going?” 

“Back to the inn!” Ralof reached a hand down. “Away from all this gloom.”

“Just leave me up here,” Hadvar said, ignoring Ralof’s outstretched hand. “I’ll just ruin the mood.” 

Ralof sighed loudly, then reached down and grabbed one of Hadvar’s wrists. “Up, damn you. Enough of all this.” 

Despite everything, Hadvar let himself be pulled to his feet. The two of them descended the tower together and headed back towards the inn. The front door had been propped open to let the fresh summer air into the longhouse, the sounds of a jaunty tune filtering out into the street along with rhythmic clapping and singing of the patrons. Ralof threw an arm around Hadvar’s shoulder, beginning to sing along as they stepped up onto the front porch. Hadvar couldn’t help but smirk, looping an arm around Ralof’s waist. 

“You sound like a dying cow when you sing.” 

Ralof made a rude, wet noise directly into Hadvar’s ear, and Hadvar shoved his friend away with a laugh, wiping the saliva off with the palm of his hand.

“We can’t all have the gifts of Dibella, y’know,” Ralof argued, rosy-cheeked. “She should have given you a pair of tits to go with that singing voice of yours.”

Hadvar gave him a rough shove but smiled. “You’d like that, I bet.” 

Ralof downed the rest of his mead and threw the empty bottle over the side of the porch before shoulder checking Hadvar so hard he slammed back against the side of the building, knocking the air from his lungs. 

“You oaf!” he wheezed. “Watch—” 

Ralof was directly in front of him, pushing right up into his space, his hands twisting the front of Hadvar’s shirt. Neither of them moved, barely a breath apart. Hadvar’s heart pounded so loud he felt it in the soles of his feet. Ralof was looking at him, his gaze unsteady with drink, blue eyes twinkling with the flicker of torch light. Then he smiled, fierce as a saber cat, and planted a firm kiss on Hadvar’s lips. 

Hadvar sucked in a breath through his nose, his eyes going wide. Impossible, he thought. And before he could think further, it was over, and Ralof was pulling away, still smiling. He swaggered away like a pleased tomcat, jerking a hand over his shoulder to beckon Hadvar after him. 

“You coming inside or not?” 

Hadvar’s entire body buzzed with arousal and confusion, his chest threatening to split open with the ache of it all and his pants tightening in an unwanted and embarrassing way. Ralof disappeared into the inn, leaving Hadvar alone. He reached his hand up to trace his lips, numb with disbelief. Had he…? Did he feel…?

Hadvar stumbled into the inn after him and then the night went on as if nothing had happened. The bard continued to play, the patrons continued to sing. Ingrid eventually found her way into Ralof’s lap, and Hadvar got drunk enough to lead the entire room in a call and response of “Come Now Ysmir”. He caught Ralof’s eye in the middle of a verse. He was staring at him from overtop Ingrid’s shoulder, his expression raw, transfixed, as if nobody else in the room existed. 

Hadvar smiled and continued to sing.

[tea-and-finalfantasy]

some more thoughts abt characters in nsfw imagines being "ooc" and why we shouldn't worry about it BUT ALSO how to branch out/what tips to use to do so if you'd like, especially if you run an ask blog and are writing for other ppl's hcs or desires and not just your own

also discussed some in-relationship characterizations of bi-han, shang tsung, and raiden as examples! and we're operating under the assumption that these are "healthier" instances of self-insert asks (meaning i mention providing aftercare here for example which might not be important to an ask/scenario where the relationship is supposed to be fucked up)

long post/tldr at end although of course i recommend reading the whole thing ^^;

on one hand, ppl shouldn't be so concerned w writing characters "in-character" for imagines or fics bc ppl are writing them to achieve an end

ppl want to showcase emotions we don't see in canon (so they seem "ooc" bc we don't see the characters going through those things often or at all)

ppl want to see their faves doing things they're into (so when an ask is sent, it's not with the intention of asking if a character would do it or not, it's asking for content of the character in fact doing that)

plus nsfw content isn't like? an "is it in character or not" deal bc it's kink. we shouldn't have a standard for who "looks like they'd be into this" or not bc it's not about appearances or how ppl usually act--it's abt trying out different roles and having fun and getting needs met and so on

and in a fictional setting where ppl want their faves to be into what they're into, why would you not write that happening? you don't have to jump through hoops to "prove" a character would act the way you want them to and you don't have to put up with other ppl saying a character wouldn't do something just bc it's not their personal hc

but on the other hand, i think ppl should also consider, if they want, what would get a character to a certain point

quoted from another post of mine:

it’s not the act that’s “ooc” bc that’s how you get “x person is a bottom and x person is a top and i just know–” rather than like. you cannot and should not look at someone and assume something about them physically, how they act, etc. is indicative of their sexual preferences

yeah i know it’s just in fiction here and not irl but god it’s so fucking grating to hear “oh this character wouldn’t bottom” (like not even sub! someone is stating they will not get fucked in the ass bc they’re “too tough”) bc you’ve created this binary of who does what act all the time, who’s allowed to do what–

as opposed to living a little? having fun with fiction? imagining what a tough and gruff character would be like in a vulnerable state and how they got there? what they’re like giving into desires they probably feel they’re not supposed to have?

SO USING BI-HAN, SHANG TSUNG, AND RAIDEN

regardless of how gruff and cold bi-han is, i don't think he'd waste time putting up with someone he didn't enjoy spending time with. sometimes he's civil, sometimes he's not, so tempers would flare but overall, i don't think he'd hate someone's devotion and kindness and/or refusal to let him put them down

same thing with shang tsung where he'd surely enjoy someone interested in his work but he also be interested in someone who takes no shit from him

i don't see it "ooc" to have a self-insert show kindness or disagreement and for either to be a deal breaker based on personality alone

i think they're characters that both need some form of kindness and care (just bc they range from... misguided or power hungry to cruel doesn't mean that cruelty is expected in turn as a form of love UNLESS? it's havik in some iterations at least LOL)

so to assume it's not appreciated would be incorrect--

the point is to discuss their reactions to it, how they'd respond "in character" and you could go so many routes too! the fun part is to experiment!

you could write them both somewhat flustered by such appreciation, unsure how to return it as the feeling is genuine but it's been a long time since they've felt something like that. felt cared for or felt genuine love for someone else that wasn't based on what they could get in return

you could write them learning to express delicate emotions and vulnerability, learning to care for someone else experiencing hardship or grief or yearning and desire. yes it's tinged by their personalities

like if someone got hurt, bi-han would be like -barely masked anger- don't worry they will be dealt with/shang tsung would be like haha i will dissolve their living flesh in acid and you can watch if you like :)

but if their s/o doesn't benefit from that kind of violent response, it's about exploring how they learn to do what works in the relationship (while also being like ok i can kill them but how do i make dinner for my lover so they feel better. how do you fucking cook)

in terms of sex and kink, it's fine if it's not your personal hc for them to engage in x/y/z thing but if you're answering a request and don't have like. an obvious disclaimer abt what you do well or like to write/what you don't write, it can feel strange to just ??? not do it properly LOL???

but again, it's not that a kink is "ooc," it's just that maybe the set-up seems iffy? obv its from personal standpoints and it doesn't really matter but i'm assuming that's the hang up ppl have sometimes? that they don't have the hc but then slip it under the guise of "oh i don't think it's in character" which lapses into the "this is what i think a top looks like/this is what a bottom looks like" which gets problematic

with bi-han, someone could write him in desperate need of a break and easily taking on a submissive role with someone he trusts bc it's what he needs. he's exhausted and stressed and expected to be strong and tough all the time and needs the help

on the other hand, someone could write that with the expectations of being tough, of being the perfect grandmaster, he feels he's not allowed to be vulnerable or submissive or humiliated and enjoy it. he's not allowed to be anything but in control all of the time and he struggles greatly in learning to lean into the pleasure he wants

with shang tsung, i personally think he'd see life as for one's own pleasure and who is he to deny himself playing around with roles and control? experimentation is in his nature after all

but i can see him acting the same as bi-han--feeling so much pressure to appear always-in-control that he doesn't know how to let go even though he wants to

and the hang up would never be distrust of a partner either unless you're going for that dynamic. wanting to try out things and simultaneously being anxious over it isn't something they'd take out on a partner as it's their hang ups, not the offer of something new by someone they trust

sometimes some things get a pass--like sex toys might be mutually used, they might seem as commonplace as condoms and lube--while other things--D/s dynamics and not just being on bottom/moaning a bit louder than usual, anything more involved in terms of set-up or equipment, etc.--might take a lot of work getting used to

it definitely isn't easy. even with both parties trying their best, there are long breaks and tense emotions, extensive aftercare and days of subdrop despite everyone's best intentions

some sessions go well and others don't. they get anxious and nervous again, sometimes when it's something entirely new and sometimes when it's something they'd done before, just because they don't feel up to it that night

with anything, it's a process that involves up and downs and dialogue that seems "ooc" just because it's not what we hear in canon (whether that's due to it being sexual in nature OR bc it's vulnerability from characters we merely see as powerful and controlling or vulnerable in terms of anger) and writing that, exploring that, being "there" for a character in a fictional setting is what makes things fun and interesting!

in a less emotionally charged setting, if we take raiden for example, i don't think it's right or possible to assign in-character or out-of-character to kinks but we might do so depending on if how they act in-scene or post-scene doesn't feel "accurate"

so the "ic"/"ooc" assignment isn't (or shouldn't be) based on if you think raiden should or shouldn't be a dom top but if you think how he's acting in regards to it feels "accurate--" especially when the acting part of the scene is over!

in my opinion, raiden seems generally fair and level headed so if he were to punish someone, it wouldn't be with bi-han's kind of fury. maybe he'd have his moments of over-zealousness, getting overexcited (which isn't a bad thing by any means) and getting mouthier, aiming more for humiliation or chastization than calm firmness, but whatever route you go, i think it's in the post-scene/aftercare that's where you find your "in character" characterization

he'd dote and be concerned, even if his partner says they're fine, he keeps a list of things they might need or want to do afterwards, he's shy about discussing sex outside the realm of a scene, even if he's having it nightly, and talks quietly, does a lot of cuddling, asks if he did well

if a piece/answer doesn't have aftercare listed, which is understandable and it's just written/no one is expected to write anything/if you're going for an unhealthy dynamic you could understandably have certain characters straight up not providing it, but if it's intended but not written, it just might feel ooc when the scene cuts off bc we only see the play-acting

i also think some ooc-ness can come from the opposite end of the spectrum where, considering aftercare for example, our knowledge of what's important to provide to real life ppl contrasts with what we think the characters would do--either out of inexperience, sexually or with scene heavy content, or due to their everyday personalities

but again, the important thing is not to shoot down ideas but to explore how would a character deal with this unfamiliar thing?

shang tsung has enough (actually legit) remedies at this point to make physically healing easy but he's unsure how to comfort someone who's crying even if he knows he can't leave them like that

bi-han's not good with words and either needs to learn some scripts or rely on what he's best at if it works for his partner. he can soothe bruises well and can literally cool things off but he might gravitate most towards just holding his partner as hard as he can and then refusing to be distant from them even by inches (always managing to hold their hand while using his other hand to do whatever else) until he's sure they're okay

raiden worries he's researched it too hard and that he asks too many questions but wants to make sure he's not overlooking something especially out of a lack of experience. he probably lapses into topdrop and doesn't even know it's a thing, doesn't know he's allowed to need the same comfort

so in general/as tips/a tldr

there's no such thing as a sex act or kink being "in character" or "out of character" bc it's an action, not inherent in the personality

so many of these are personal hcs but this is about finding what your hc is--not abt assuming there's something "ooc" about a kink just bc it's not yours or yours associated with that character

the in character/out of character debate probably (hopefully?) comes more from forgetting that sex/kink can be like a game/can involve acting and pretend--that it's not a stand in for someone's actual personality

and when there's vulnerability that's real that seems "ooc," it's probably because obvious we're not getting characters engaging in kink scenes in canon. even if they experience vulnerability, some characters do while others don't. it's narrative based, it's main characters (getting introspection) vs side characters (not having time or desire for it). exploring something not shown in text isn't inaccurate

if you have asks open, you can write as you please BUT ppl aren't sending stuff bc they think you're gonna say it's "ooc." they're asking bc they like your style and want to see what you've got based on their ideas. it's fine to not write things for w/e reason but don't pretend it's bc u have the "correct" hc and they don't

if you want to explore it, this is about discussing what would get a character to a point where they'd act a certain way? what happens when they experience something new or unfamiliar or something that affects them in a difficult or overwhelming way? the "ooc" aspect isn't the "what," it's the "how"

but it also doesn't matter what's "ic"/what's "ooc" bc we all have our own intricate interpretations anyways AND are often writing these kink things bc it's what we wanna see. of course the characters are gonna act how we like or in ways that we need

[flosalatus]

Relationships

A ramble/introspection on Vash and his relationships, both canon based, pure headcanon, and recent RP based.

Rem:

He's always seen Rem as a parental figure, she raised them so why wouldn't he? He rarely called her mom to her face however, at first because she made such a fuss the first time it embaressed him, and then because Nai never did and he was following his footsteps for a while as kids.

For a while, after Tesla, Vash didn't think he could let himself call Rem 'mom' anymore, even if he still thought of and loved her as a mother. His trust in her was shaken enough that trying to call her that made him feel so unsure and guilty.

By the time he got over that feeling, he didn't have the chance to ever call her mom again.

He misses her constantly, of all the scars he has, the one Rem left behind is a wound that he doesn't think will ever fully heal, let alone fade.

Nai/Knives:

Nai is his brother, his best friend. If he looked deeper maybe he'd even call him another half of him, two sides of a coin. So similar and deeply connected in a way no human could replicate or understand. He loves Nai, looked up to him as kids, leant into the claims of Nai being the elder twin happily because it gave him something to admire and learn from other than Rem. He'd do anything for him.

Knives is a stranger with a familiar face.

He doesn't know what to think or where he stands anymore with what Nai has become. He still loves him, so so much, but Vash is also scared of him, hates him sometimes if he lets himself.

Brad and Luida:

Surrogate parents of a sort, intially Vash just saw them as indiferent strangers. Not unkind, but not close. After, he was torn on how to consider them. Friends? Family? Caretakers?

He had about a week long phase of 'big sister' imprinting on Luida that faded just as quickly.

Eventually, with enough time, they naturally settled in his mind as "Aunt and Uncle". Family, close, but nothing near replacing Rem. But that was okay, he didn't need to replace her. He could let his family grow without losing those already in it.

Meryl:

One of the first people he meets again after a long peroid of minimal long exposure to humans. He doesn't expect to attach to her at all, let alone how much he does in the end.

But shes so quick, and brave, and stubborn. How could he not?

He adores Meryl, be it platonically or romantically, not much changes at the core of their relationship. She's important to him, the first new bright thing in his life after a long peroid of time. She's more than a friend or a sister, even romantically she's more than a lover to him, he holds her in too high of a reguard to delegate her a label like that.

Milly:

Instant best friends. He's never quite clicked with a person the way he does with Milly, she just fits, and if she doesn't she slowly carves her space there with kind smiles and pateince.

At first she remind him a little of a mother. Not his mother, exactly, but someone motherly. Someone warm and safe, and she stays warm and safe, someone steady and comforting in his life.

In a ship, again not a lot changes. That steady comfort becomes a little more indulgent maybe, the more used to it he gets the less he needs it and the more it's just another thing he loves about her

Roberto:

He was pretty indiferent to Roberto intially actually, aside from noting he was arguable one of the sanest human's Vash had met, wanting to get out of the way as quickly as possible.

But the gruff man reminded him a lot of Brad, if a little rougher aroud the edges. In some way, Roberto feels more like an actual father figure sometimes, in others, he gets put in the uncle catagorey.

Wolfwood:

Man, where do I even start with this one.

Vash works out Wolfwood's deal almost from day one, and yet still he can so clearly see something good deep down he doesn't think twice about playing along.

At first Vash can't decide what to make of him. They butt heads, they have drastically oposing ideals and morals, the nicknames are weird and annoying. Sometimes Vash has never wanted to throttle a human so badly.

Time and sympathy from learning his past smooth over those edges, and Wolfwood becomes a friend.

He can hold his own in a fight, he's the one human companion Vash isn't so afraid to loose, because he's an equal. Wolfwood is still human, sure, and Vash is still scared. But he trusts the other in a way he's never been able to let himself trust before. Trusts that he'll survive the fight, with or without Vash's help.

And with that trust something more starts to grow. Friendship feels like an insult to they bond they have. They work in sync, they understand eachother without words or plans. He hasn't had something like that since he and Nai were kids.

Vash wonders if they're what people call soulmates.

Vash realises that this is what love feels like.

[casspurrjoybell-24]

My Mate - Chapter 4 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

Sitting my laptop onto my bed, I hopped up in need of something to drink.

After visiting the clinic this morning to see if my stitches could come out, I'd returned home and stayed in my room doing absolutely nothing productive.

Going down the stairs leading up to my room, I threw the door open to hear that I wasn't home alone like I'd thought.

Trying not to be heard, I went downstairs quietly and poked my head into the living room.

Calvin was there and so was Robert.

They seemed to be into whatever movie was playing.

It's like they're making up for the years apart by spending everyday together.

Moon Goddess, you'd think they were brothers.

Going into the kitchen, I yanked the fridge open for a bottle of water that I quickly drunk half of.

I was thirsty.

I started looking around for something to snack on, mostly because I'm too lazy to make anything more fulfilling.

I knew the Alpha male had entered the kitchen but I didn't care to say anything, thinking he'd get something and go.

Grabbing a strawberry yogurt I closed the fridge and turned around, jumping a little seeing Robert so close to me.

He held his finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet.

I did as he instructed, watching his nose flare as he moved closer.

I backed up until my back was against the fridge and watched his questionable behavior.

My lips parted, prepared to ask what he was doing but his nose went to the crease of my neck and I heard him inhale deeply.

I shivered, confused by his behavior until it finally hit me.

There was the minty citrus scent from the orange tic-tacs he always has and the masculine musky scent all dominant males have, under that was the hint of wood smoke and leather.

It just all screamed strong male and as a little gay Omega, that was one of my weaknesses.

I whimpered, feeling my body react to his scent and closeness.

I was confused and a little uncomfortable that it was my brother's best friend making me feel like this.

My instincts had me baring my throat to the stronger male and he growled softly in approval.

"Robert?" I whispered, still unsure about what was happening.

Not that I really knew what was happening.

I just know he smells really good and I'm kinda horny now.

Robert seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and stepped away from me.

His brows were furrowed as he looked me over, his eyes lingering on my Batman pajama bottoms.

I looked down to see them tented out some and squeaked, covering myself with my hands.

My face burned as Robert's dark brown eyes met mine.

A slow smirk pulled up one side of his mouth and I shivered again as he leaned back in.

His lips brushed against my ear and my breath caught.

"You smell so fucking good, Tory."

I made a choked whimper at the sound of his gruff voice.

"Get yourself upstairs," he growled, making me scamper off with an uncontrollable need to follow any order given by him.

Stupid Omega genes.

By the time I was in my room, I was panting with an aching hard on and the realization that I forgot a spoon.

I didn't go back downstairs until Dad's cruiser pulled into the driveway.

I had played the Sims on my laptop for hours while I tried to forget about what happened earlier.

Not that I really could, it seemed to be the only thing on my mind.

All my sims were pregnant after woo-hoo-ing so much.

How would my future Mate feel if he knew I got a hard on because of his brother?

Moon Goddess, I don't want to think about it.

Cautiously going downstairs, I met Dad as he came in the front door, already untucking his shirt.

Mom wouldn't be home until later, after she made dinner for everyone at the pack house.

"Hey Dad," I greeted, hesitating on the last step.

"Torin," he said in greeting, untying his boots.

"Ready for school tomorrow?"

I groaned at the reminder.

I liked living in denial and so I hated when others reminded me of the things I didn't want to think about.

"Do anything fun at work today? Catch any bad guys?"

I decided to ignore his question and ask my own.

Dad chuckled lowly.

"If you consider having to escort an Omega in heat back home as fun, then yeah."

He kicked off his boots by the door, adding them with the pile of shoes already there.

No, I didn't consider that fun.

Getting your heat in public was the worst thing to happen to anyone and I'm glad Dad was there to escort them to safety.

My own first heat happened at the pack house.

The worst place to ever go into heat.

Well... besides prison.

It was horrible.

The pack house is filled with all the unmated Werewolves.

Most Omegas have at least one Omega parent, I don't and so I didn't have much knowledge about going into heat.

It happened so fast and I had no control over it.

Before I knew it, little thirteen year old me was surrounded by grown males ready to breed me.

Not that they necessarily wanted to but the pheromones coming off me didn't really give them much of a choice.

It was a mess and the Alpha had to command them all out of the house before they could start challenging each other over me.

That was the first time Jasper talked to me.

He took me to his room and tried distracting me until my parents came to pick me up.

He was so sweet.

After that I knew I was in love.

Dad went into the living room and I followed.

There was no sign of Calvin or Robert and I looked around.

It'd make since they'd disappear before dad came home, knowing he'd want to sit in his chair and watch T.V.

That's exactly what he did too.

I walked over to the window to see my brother and his best friend were on the porch in Mom's rocking chairs.

Robert didn't have a coat on and my eyes went to his ink covered arms.

I guess he was nice looking.. in a dirty way.

"Hey pup, could you get me a beer?" Dad asked, already with his legs propped up on his recliner.

I went to the kitchen and got dad one of his root beers that were in the glass bottles.

When I shut the fridge, I was reminded of what took place in here a couple hours ago and how I'd let it happen.

How it couldn't happen again.

Ever.

[willowser]

okay, but. single dad!bakugou has such a quiet and shy son. listen to me.

[amjustagirl]

chapter 7: one step forward (a million steps back)

chapters: 7 / 15 pairing: miya osamu x f! reader genre: romance, angst, fluff, inarizaki shenanigans wc: 2.8k summary: miya osamu does not dare set fire to his heart. it burns anyway.

(prev / next)

Swapping the backdrop from the rural countryside to the bustling metropolis does not dampen your feelings for Miya Osamu in any way. 

You’d always thought he was attractive with his strong chin, the sturdy sweep of his shoulders but now your gaze lingers on him more and more, appreciating the openness of his smile, the warmth of his eyes. His heart is too big to cram into his chest, and you like him all the more for it - the consideration he pays to his staff (and you), the gruff love he shows his family, the genuine care he gives to his guests. It scares you, how much you love - like him, craving for his attention, his friendship suddenly insufficient when you want more. Your name sounds beautiful when he says it, even though you’ve always hated it (a relic of your past), and you stand a little taller, smile a little wider when he’s anywhere near you.

“So, the boss huh.” Suzuki states with a motherly pat to your shoulders. “Finally.”

The rest of the staff seem to share her sentiment, nudging you forward whenever they see the opportunity to leave you and Osamu alone, elbowing you with grins whenever Osamu smiles at you, nodding approvingly whenever he offers to walk you home (or to the night shift) after late nights at the restaurant. 

You’re a terrible liar so you just shrug helplessly, biting your bottom lip. “Not that I know what to do”, you admit. 

Which is true. You’ve had crushes before - handsome boys who accompany their parents to your father’s sushi restaurant, classmates who were unattainable, out of reach but you’d put them on a pedestal, imagining how you’d enjoy being one half of a couple, holding hands, sharing smiles. But this is different. You’ve never had anyone you actually, truly, really like for who they are, and there’s so so much to like about Miya Osamu. 

Suzuki’s expression turns sympathetic when you confess all of this to her, your voice small, unsure. “I’ll help you”, she promises. “The boss needs something more than just work in his life, and I bet he probably feels the same way about you. From the way he looks at you, at least.” 

“You think so?” you ask, but she doesn’t bother giving you a response, sending out texts on her phone at machine gun speed, and the next thing you know, she’s roped in Kaiyo and the entire staff (who’s itching to get involved anyway) to aid in the mission of capturing the elusive heart of one Miya Osamu. 

Step one - feed the chef. 

Suzuki-san and Kaiyo unanimously pronounce that the way to Miya Osamu’s heart is through his stomach. A tired saying, but one that rings true for the chef-owner of Onigiri Miya.  

“But what am I supposed to cook for him that he can’t already cook for himself?” you protest, though whatever you say falls on deaf ears. 

You consider baking something, but your parents’ old house lacks a working oven, understandable since your parents (and yourself, nowadays) would only retreat home for rest. You consider buying him some upscale delicacy, some sort of expensive cake or mochi or sweet treat of sorts, but it seems needlessly expensive and it’s not like Osamu’s a food snob to begin with. Then you overhear Osamu complaining that he can’t find the time to travel to the Kobe fishmarket to check out what’s on offer this winter deep sea fishing season, and an idea forms in your head. 

He doesn’t have the time, but you do.

So you call in favours from your father’s old business acquaintances, pop down into Kobe before dawn in long unworn wet market boots, returning back to Osaka with your bounty. You stare at the array of fresh seafood. Kani, a whole hairy crab, splayed old, pincers wriggling out at you in an indication it’s still alive. Pearly grey oysters, all unshucked. Yellowtail, the fish still gasping, Madai, the red seabream’s gills glistening in the light. A bagful of shrimp, each impossibly long, perfectly pink. 

You’re not quite sure what to do with them, so you present them all in their box, packed with ice. Like a floral arrangement, a bouquet of seafood to your intended conquest. 

He gapes silently, eyes wide as dinner plates, darting between the box and yourself. “Surprise”, you say needlessly, weakly. 

“It’s too much”, he says at first, but thanks you with boyish enthusiasm, when you explain he’ll only let the food go to waste if he doesn’t take it from you. He throws an impromptu party with staff and family that night with the spoils from your gift, unabashedly asking if you’d show him the best way to prepare the fish. It’s gratifying to watch everyone ooh and aah as the course after course of decadent seafood emerges from the kitchen, more so when he slumps beside you, head down on the countertop in an obvious food coma at the end of the night. 

“What’s the occasion for all of this?” he asks, almost lost to sleep. 

It’s just three simple words, but you chicken out. Courage has never been your strongest suit. “To thank you for being my friend”, you say instead, which is kinda, sorta true. 

“You never need to thank me for that”, he says, before laughing at himself, at the cheesiness of what he’s just said.  

You think otherwise, but you just echo the cadence of his laugh.

(one step forwards, two steps back) 

Step two - show him affection. 

You’re instructed by Kaiyo and Suzuki-san to express your affection for him. 

“Physically”, Kaiyo says, “since you seem incapable of doing so with words.” 

You feel like telling her that you’ve grown up without the blueprint to showing human affection, especially romantic affection.

“Okay look”, she adds after a few beats of you staring goggle eyed at her. “Just follow what ‘Tsumu and I do, k? You can try hugging him when he walks you home - don’t look at me like that, as if I don’t know that he does, honestly - the two of you act like you’re in high school, but act on your feelings and maybe hold his hand too - “

“You don’t hug Atsumu”, you point out. “You smack him and poke him and tickle him, and occasionally exchange kisses.” 

“That’s what passes for foreplay in his mind -” 

You wince. “I did not need to know that.” 

“But if you wanna kiss Osamu, hey, you do you, I’m a great believer in goin’ out there and taking life by its balls.”

“Baby, I’m sittin’ right here when you’re talkin’ about me and -  please don’t take me by the balls”, Atsumu pleads, covering Shoma’s ears with large hands. “Sounds painful.” 

Kaiyo’s grin is shark-like. Yet Atsumu just gazes at her like a lovelorn puppy. You…admire their marital bliss, but you probably should not take them as role models in lessons of physical affection. Perhaps you can try your best to channel the Kitas instead with their open affection and gentle care for each other. 

So you brush past him in the restaurant when you pass him dishes, greet him with a side hug which he returns with a chuckle when he comes to your place to bring Kombu-chan yet another treat, ruffling his hair when he does his best at baby-talking your haughty cat. You lean into him, chasing the heat his body emits when you leave his shop to fetch some item that’s run out, returning with your shirt translucent, clinging and wet with rain.

“Shoulda made sure you went out with an umbrella”, he mutters, frowning as you shiver. 

His frown deepens as you lose your balance and nearly topple backwards, mind fogging up as he rubs his hands together to generate even more heat before clasping yours between his, so careful and gentle almost as if he’s afraid you might shatter. “I’m okay”, you breathe, but that doesn’t seem to reassure him, because your goosebumps line your flesh, your teeth chattering. 

“Time for you to go home”, he says flatly. 

Suzuki-san gives you a conspiratorial grin when he takes your elbow to escort you home, his arm heavy on your shoulders. “Take care of her”, she calls after him. He doesn’t respond, but the determination in his stride indicates he fully intends to. 

His closeness grounds you and knocks you off your feet at the same time. You don’t even realise that you’re at your front door until he extracts your spare key from beneath your floor mat, Kombu-chan peeping between the gate to investigate. 

“Shower, now”, he orders and you obey without a fight. 

When you emerge, hair towelled dry, skin damp and warm from steam, there’s a warm cup of ginger and honey on the table. Your rice cooker hums, a glistening, perfectly fried egg waiting for you to plop it in your mouth. Ceramic clinks in the metal sink, a pair of wooden chopsticks line your bowl. “Eat, and then sleep”, he says again, mouth pinched. “Don’t want you t’come down with a cold or somethin’ worse.” 

Usually when he shows you any sort of kindness (which is almost too often, because Miya Osamu is the best man you know), you just thank him with varying degrees of politeness and awkwardness, unable to express how actually grateful you are that he’s found you worthy of being nice to, but today, after freezing in the winter’s first rainstorm and dragging yourself through puddles and mud, your reserve peels away. 

“Won’t come down with a cold”, you murmur before winding your arms around Osamu, the man frozen as you pull him into a semblance of a hug. 

You wonder a half-second too late if you’ve overstepped before he relaxes, shoulders carefully settling. You could too easily get used to this, learn to be addicted to this - the feeling of him in your arms, large and strong and sturdy, basking in the heat of his body like sitting cross legged before a fireplace. He smells a little like rain himself, earthy and damp and there’s a hint of sesame oil, fragrant and nutty.  

Then he disentangles himself from you, hands under your arms so he can hold you carefully away from him. You shudder from the sudden loss of warmth, whining under your breath. 

“You’re definitely gonna get sick tomorrow”, he says, brushing a large palm against your overheated forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Bed, now.”

He keeps you at a polite distance, hovers by the threshold to your room as you settle into bed, only crossing it once to bring Kombu-chan in, dropping her onto your lap. “Goodnight”, he murmurs before leaving you behind in darkness, thunder rolling in the horizon. 

You crawl on your knees, tugging the curtains open, letting the tiniest sliver of light into your room as you lie face-up on your bed. Count the cracks in your ceilings, even though you already know the answer. Kombu-chan ends up deserting you and you stay awake for hours, only dropping off to sleep when the rain clears and the moon peeks out behind clouds. 

After that, you’re unable to find any reason to show Osamu any physical affection whatsoever. It’s as if he’s constructed a force field to keep you out, the hair on your arms rising, almost crackling when he skirts around you, as if - as if he’s wary of you. 

Oh, you conclude. You overstepped. 

You apologise the next opportunity you get, but Osamu scrunches his eyebrows together, as if he’s trying to decipher whether he should be confused or offended that you even brought it up. “Don’t be silly”, he waves you off. It’s not clear whether he means it’s truly fine, because he goes back to normal after a while, reaching out to ruffle your hair when you bump his elbow with yours, but you’re not sure what to believe so you just - you just respect the distance he’s put between you. 

(one step forward, three steps back) 

“You two are hopeless”, Kaiyo says crossly after zero progress is made on the chasing Miya Osamu front. “Maybe we should just lock you both in the store room until proximity and time makes you desperate enough to just spit out that you like him, it’s not rocket science, y’know -” 

Atsumu just shakes his head, balancing Shoma on his lap. 

“What!” she exclaims peevishly. “Maybe you could contribute some suggestions, since you and Osamu shared the same womb.” 

“Just grab him and kiss him”, he chortles, dodging a swat from his wife. “Worked like a charm for me.” 

You just look at him with distrust. “I think I’ll pass, thanks”, you demur politely. 

Step three - date night, just him and you. 

“Maybe you should just be direct and ask him out on a date”, Kaiyo suggests. Suzuki-san nods with approval, and you agree readily, because you’d been facing their ire for failing to tell Osamu your feelings which is far easier said than done, but neither are going to listen to you anyway. So you do, asking him out for dinner on Monday, the only day of the week he’s willing to take a break (enforced by me, Suzuki-san tells you smugly), and he accepts without question. 

It’s a last ditch attempt, a final shot before you’ll throw in the towel, give him up completely. 

“Did you specify it was a date?” Kaiyo asks, face-palming when you admit with a sheepish smile no. 

“It should be obvious!” you protest, because why else would you ask him specifically out for dinner at a fancy restaurant booked out weeks in advance by couples, serving fine French food and good Italian wines, but Osamu proves you wrong.

First, it’s bad enough that he turns up fifteen minutes late, but he sticks out like a sore thumb in jeans and a t-shirt. Second, he looks around and wonders aloud about the coincidence of everyone around you sitting in pairs. Third, and most egregiously, the sin that Kaiyo will slap the back of his head for as punishment, to which he’ll just frown at her, arguing his innocence - 

“D’you mind if a friend joins us tonight? He’s havin’ a tough time.” 

He doesn’t need to look at you with puppy dog eyes, doesn’t need to pout because you’re weak, unable to refuse anything he asks of you. 

“Sure”, you reply. 

That’s how Suna Rintaro, middle blocker of the EJP Raijin and soon-to-be divorcee and single father of one, ends up at your table, an awkward trio in a room full of cooing couples. He sulks through appetisers, pronounces that romance is overrated when the couple next to you shows off their engagement ring to their thoroughly unimpressed waiter, and eyes you with contempt when Osamu slips off to the washroom. 

“He’s not interested. You should take a hint, like the rest of the women clamouring to date him.” 

You splutter into your glass of water, choking out coughs. “I’m not - we’re just - I mean -” He levels a stare at you through feline eyes, decidedly unconvinced. 

“Yeah, right.” Sharp, concise. 

Shame burns through your veins, spreading like quickfire. You regret all of this immediately, whispering your excuses to Osamu when he returns to the table, confused by your sudden haste to leave. The nip of the early winter chill only serves to inflame your regret, making you want to drown yourself into a rain filled puddle.

Kombu-chan noses about your ankles when you stumble home, a bedraggled, sad creature wearing the tatters of her ego, the dregs of her dignity. “At least one of us is happy”, you tell her when you feed her a treat. 

She meows and steps all over you as you lie facedown on the floor. 

Osamu turns up at the end of your shift when you fail to turn up at his shop again, armed with his usual bribe of onigiris and mochi. “Was Suna rude to you, that lil’ shit?” he asks without preamble, face contorting into something ugly, harsh beneath artificial fluorescent lights. 

You lie through your teeth, murmuring a no as you stare at your feet. You don’t even dare to look up at him, not when you’re still smarting from being seen right through by a close friend of his. 

“He said somethin’, didn’t he?” Osamu persists, sighing when you match his stubbornness, shaking your head to pretend otherwise.

Osamu’s too busy, too distracted to spend much time trying to draw out exactly what’s wrong, what’s ailing you (the restaurant’s renovations are almost complete, he tells you, and he’s preparing a soft launch for family and friends, you have to be there of course), so he just walks you home, patting your back and saying “don’t mind Rin, he’s a piece of shit right now cos’ life is kinda rough for him”. 

“There’s nothing to mind, Osamu. Really, I’m fine”, you reply with a cheerfulness that’s decidedly forced.  

“Really?” 

Your stomach always burns when you lie. You pick up Kombu-chan, burying your face in her fur, willing your innards to stop tearing itself into shreds. “You don’t have to worry about me, ‘Samu.” 

You’re lying again, but he doesn’t need to know the truth. 

(one step forward, a million steps back)

 a/n: oh 'samu. oh suna. oh, poor, poor reader. i put her through the wringer ><

[katscki]

can i please get a bakugou x fem!reader who is alone on valentine’s day at a bar and her toxic ex walks in and she has to pretend to be dating anyone 🥺🥺🥺

YES YES YES

More Thankful Than You Know

bakugou x reader

masterlist

wc: 770

cw: kinda hurt to comfort, protective bakugou😤, shitty ex, cursing

What else were you supposed to do when your asshole ex walked in?

To put it simply, you hated valentine's day. When you’re alone that is, which also happens to be the case today. So, as most people do when they’re lonely, you make your way to the nearest bar to drown out your sorrow. This wasn’t how you had expected to spend the love filled day, about a month ago you were still in a relationship, well that’s before you came home one night and see your asshole ex-boyfriend trying to pack up and leave with some bimbo while you were at work.

As you walk in and make a beeline for the bar seating, a sigh leaves your lips at the multitudes of people in there like a nightclub, all of which had the same idea as you. Not even thinking you just take the closest seat to you not caring who was by you. Finally, being able to order your drink and take the first swig was the best thing that had happened that week, well until you hear the familiar taunting voice. Looking at the door with wide eyes you see him, the breath leaves your lungs and you're frantically looking for an escape. He can’t see you, not here alone, not moping the way you are. Without thinking you turn to the stranger next to you finally taking in your surroundings.

The words come out all at once all blurred together in a hurried state, “Look I know you don’t know me but that guy over there was horrible to me, and he can’t know I'm here by myself or god knows what will happen. So please please pleaaase help me.” You whisper to the significantly larger male next to you. He says nothing in response and looks over your shoulder at your ex.

“Fine. But you owe me another drink.” He says in a gruff, deep voice. You spring up from your sitting place and fling yourself on him for a hug, “Oh thank you, thank you so much!” When you come to your senses you push yourself off him while muttering an apology, to which he just shrugs. “Oh, and by the way my name’s-”

“Y/N! Hey doll, what’re ya doin here?!” There it was, the dreaded moment you had been waiting for. The stranger sees the discomfort in your eyes, and he immediately puts a comforting hand on the small of your back. He had been nicer to you in two minutes than your ex had been in two years.

“Oh? What’s this doll? Had to get a rebound guy to get over me huh?” He coos in a sickly-sweet voice that just made you deflate even more. “I-I-”

“Aw, all choked up to see me too. How sweet!” The stranger could watch any longer before he stood up showing his heroic body in all its glory. You didn’t notice it before, but he was attractive, very attractive, standing at about 6’7 and a massive build, he was practically a god.

He steps in front of you in a protective manner, now towering over your ex. You see the life leave his eyes at how much larger the male is.

“What you had to get a bodyguard to protect you cause you’re so scared of me? Tch whatever have her, she’s a worthless whore anyways.” The statement makes your fists curl around the back of his shirt as tears well in your eyes.

At this point the whole bar has gone quiet at the scene, the stranger gently removes your clinging form before he roughly grips your ex by his collar and personally escorts him outside. With him screaming and kicking like a toddler with a tantrum. He throws him out the door watching him land on the hard concrete with a thud before speaking,

“If you ever so much as look at her again, your ass is mine.” Unsure of why he felt so obligated to stand up for you, he shakes the feeling, hearing the entire establishment clapping with pride for the man.

“You are a lifesaver!!! I can’t tell you how thankful I am! Um excuse me can I get another one of whatever he’s having?” You ask the bartender.

“S’no problem. S’what heroes do.” He says while sitting back down.

“H-hero?” Your voice shrinking a bit as you speak. To that he turns to smirk at you before saying, “Katsuki Bakugou, or better known as Dynamight, nice to be of service pretty.” He watches your jaw fall open as he takes the first sip of his new drink. Oh he’s gonna love having you around.

[buckys-black-dress]

see through

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

a/n: i dont have much to say other than that it's 1 am and i needed to get this out of my system. chapter 4 of play the game is underway, i promise. also, there will be a pov switch in this fic!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. = POV change!

wc: 4.1k words

[ neighbor!bucky barnes x fem!reader ]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

-

Every Friday night, without fail, you saw the light filter into your apartment.

Notice how you said night?

Yeah, it was almost two in the morning, by the way.

And why was there light coming through the chiffon curtains you had hanging on the rod above your window?

(Great choice on your part, by the way.)

Well, because of your neighbor.

You've seen him a few times, actually. Usually on the street outside your buildings, or just out and about. Never spoke to him, though. He was quiet, kept to himself. Didn't seem very friendly or willing to exchange a greeting if he ever saw you.

But you never took it personally. Maybe he was having a bad day. Every time you saw him.

But that's besides the point. The point right now is that you can see the lights blaring in your room. From the apartment across from yours.

Should it even be possible for light to travel that far? I mean, we don't even live in the same building. You think to yourself as you watch the colors dance in the dark.

You debate getting up and yelling out your window to tell him to shut that shit off or to invest in some blackout curtains. You were tired of sacrificing your sleep every week.

But then you decided against it, because you quite frankly could not be bothered to get up from the warmth of your bed. You'd tough it out for the night, but the next time you saw him, you'd have a few words for him.

-

The next morning, it was almost ten when you woke up. You didn't have your shift at the coffee shop you worked at until three, so you took your time in making your way out of bed.

You noticed the curtains of your neighbor's apartment were still open, but you could see his figure moving across the room. He was clearly on the phone with someone, and he didn't look too happy. You wondered what could have him so angry at such an early time of the morning. He seemed like a person who could use someone to talk to, someone who he could vent to.

But before you let your thoughts get ahead of you, you turn away from the window, heading back into your kitchen to eat breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead of you.

-

"Hi, what can I get started for you today?" You ask as brightly as you can muster at the moment. You were halfway through your shift, another three hours until close.

"Uh, just a large black coffee." The gruff voice says, and it takes you a second until you look up and look closely.

It was him.

"O-okay, that'll be $3.27." You say, and he hands you a five dollar note before grumbling,

"Keep the change."

"Thanks, and your name?"

He gives you a look that's asking, 'what the fuck do you need my name for?'

"For the order." You try and salvage your dignity, because it feels like the stare shrunk you to a speck of dust.

"James."

That's all he all but growls before turning back to find a seat.

As your coworker takes over the cash register, you grab the biggest cup and fill it with his desired coffee.

You try to not think about it too much, but the anxiety you feel rising up inside you and just calling his name to give him his coffee feels absolutely ridiculous.

"Are you just gonna stare at the cup or give it to the customer?" The voice of your coworker, Jenna, rings in your ears and you look up at her, snapping out of the trance you were in.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it today, I guess."

"Everything alright?" She asks, and you nod.

"I'm fine, it's just... that's my neighbor." You nod your head towards where James is sat, in the corner by the window as he watches the raindrops run down the expanse of the glass.

"The one who doesn't let you sleep?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he'd take it too kindly if I tell him about that. He seems to have a lot on his own plate anyways," You explain, and she just nods.

"Well, that sucks, but you still need ta' give the guy his coffee." Jenna smiles and walks back to what she was doing before.

You gently slide out from your spot behind the counter and walk to his table.

"Here's your coffee, James. Enjoy, and- uh, let me know if you'd like anything else." You tell him while placing the steaming cup in front of him.

He murmurs a thank you that you barely catch, but you don't quite have the time to sit and wait for more of a reaction.

For the next several hours, James sits right where he was. He doesn't do anything in particular, either. He just watches outside, as the rain continues to pelt down on New York City, and as people come and go from where they were.

Eventually, about an hour left until close, you offer another cup of coffee.

"Do you want a refill? On the house." You ask gently, waiting to see if you'll get brushed off again.

"Uh... are you allowed to do stuff like that?" He asks, and you're a bit taken aback at the sudden concern.

"I don't think you should worry yourself too much, James. Free coffee's free coffee." You smile lightly, and grab the cup before filling it up without his confirmation. You could tell he wanted to say yes but didn't want to seem rude.

"You didn't have to..." He grumbles, and you simply shake your head.

"I know, but you've been here a while, and what kind of employee would I be if I let a customer sit here without any sustenance?" Your lips ply into a tiny smirk, trying to get him to loosen up a bit.

He seems so guarded, defensive. Like any moment, he's ready to run if need be, you inspect to yourself.

"You'd just be a regular employee, Y/N." He says, but the way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine; and you can't tell if it's a good or bad one.

You unconsciously look down at your name tag, pinned to your black apron that's branded with the café's logo.

"Well, I felt like being nice. I hope you can deal." Your voice comes out short, but he knows you mean no harm.

As you walk back to the counter, you see a small smile playing on his lips, but he doesn't allow it to manifest on his face. You take that as a small victory for your last hour of work.

(bucky's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The girl who works at this café is annoying.

But she's got a nice smile. And she's nice to me, Bucky thinks to himself.

He sips on the new coffee you'd just poured for him, without his consent, he thinks bitterly.

But it was a nice gesture.

Why can't you just take a nice gesture?

Because your brain's been scrambled eggs for 70 years. You don't know what to think about anything these days.

He watches you fiddle with the espresso maker, cleaning it with a rag, which you then dip into a bucket.

You look extremely familiar to him, but he can't exactly pin where he's seen you before.

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall where he'd seen you, but for a moment, he comes up with nothing.

Ever since he's been living back in the real world, he hasn't been outside too much.

He goes on the occasional walk, or goes to the tower to see Steve and Sam.

But other than that, he spends a lot of time in his Brooklyn apartment. He watches movies that Steve suggests, or he invites Steve and Sam over to have beer and watch TV with him.

He hates how lonely it gets, though.

Bucky wishes that he had someone.

Someone who could understand.

And don't get him wrong, he loves Sam and Steve. They fill in the gaps in his days, and they make them better.

Sometimes, thinking about having something to do that day is what makes it. He likes having something to do, something to plan for for when his friends come over.

But it feels like a teeny, tiny part of his life is missing. A person shaped-hole in his heart.

But Bucky doesn't spend too long thinking about it, or it'll send him into a spiral about failure and how he needs to 'push himself to get out there more.'

Or that's what his therapist says.

"Hey, we're about to close, and we usually throw the pastries out at the end of the day. Do you wanna take these home, by any chance?" Your voice rings in his ears, snapping him out of the impending slippery slope of his lack of love life.

He hesitates to answer for a second, looking at the brown paper bag pinched between your fingers.

Bucky can tell you were nervous when you spoke to him. He knew he made you uneasy, and it killed him inside.

He hated that. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with someone. But everyone seems to know who he is.

Who he was.

"Uh, what is it?" He croaks, unsure of what to say at your gesture.

"It's a few cookies and a chocolate croissant."

"Sure, I'll take 'em." Bucky simply answers, watching as you hand the bag over with a soft smile and watches you walk back.

You sweep up the floor and put up all the chairs, except for the one Bucky's sitting on. You leave his table alone, and bid farewell to your coworker who was scheduled to close with you.

Bucky doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he gets up after he sees you walk out the door, and follows you home.

Damn, if you like a girl, you usually ask for her number or somethin'. Not follow her home to make sure she's safe, you idiot. Bucky's inner voice speaks and sometimes, he wishes it would just shut up because he knows he has no game nowadays, but this is all he knows to do.

He realizes the way you're walking is familiar, and not at all of the way he was supposed to be going. That made him feel a little better, less like a creep. He's about half a block behind you, and when you turn onto the same street he lives on, he's really confused.

Did you know he was behind you? Are you trying to play a trick on him?

But before Bucky can speak up or say something, you walk right past his building, and into the one right next to it.

All of a sudden, images of you right on the street in front of your buildings flash through his head. He's seen you because you're his neighbor. Bucky's seen you right there, getting ready to start your run through the neighborhood, or probably on your way to work, now that he's seen where you work.

But he feels like there's somewhere else he's seen you; somewhere familiar.

He shakes his head, wondering why he's so caught up in you. He thought you were beautiful, but he feels a pull to you that he's never felt with anyone else before.

Bucky's hands move to unlock his door, sliding the key in and twisting the lock open.

He enters, staring at his dark apartment. It's moments like this, when he spends a long day alone, that he wishes there was someone.

Someone to come home to, to hug, to kiss, to share dinner with.

Some to fall asleep with at night. Someone to keep the terrors of the dark away.

But there was no one.

And then his mind thought back to you. Your hair, your face, your warm hands that touched his while you passed him the brown paper bag of treats.

Bucky wishes he was man enough to ask you out. Not even that, just to talk to you. Have a normal conversation, to get to know you.

But that wasn't in the cards for him anytime soon, he thinks.

For now, he focuses on taking things one at a time. And right now, all he wanted was a nice, warm shower and to get at least three hours of sleep tonight.

He's in his room, forgoing the lights for now, before he looks out his window.

For a moment, he believes his eyes are playing tricks on him.

There's absolutely no way that you are standing right there, right outside his window.

Well, in your own apartment, of course.

And there's absolutely no way in hell that Bucky is watching you undress right now.

As soon as you pull off your top, Bucky turns around before he could get more than a peek of your black lace bra, and he feels a burn in the pit of his stomach.

He can't tell if it's shame, guilt, or arousal.

(y/n's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn't stop thinking about James all day.

After yesterday, you wondered why you couldn't shake this feeling about him.

He'd made it quite clear that he's not a people person. Or maybe he just wasn't a you person.

But again, you tried to not take things too personally these days.

Sometimes, you wondered, though, as you looked through your bedroom window to his some nights.

You imagined what it would be like, watching one of those movies with him at night. Making dinner with him. Having coffee in the mornings before work, wondering what he did for a living.

You chastise yourself for your thoughts, thinking that you were crazy for these ideas you were coming up with out of nowhere.

As you pull off your clothes to get ready for bed, you feel the same emptiness fill your heart when your head hits the pillow, and another day has gone by where you're all alone.

-

The next day, your shift was at ten in the morning so you were up early.

You took your time in rolling out of bed. The warmth of your duvet was holding you down, and you couldn't help take a peek out your window.

You see that the room facing yours is finally housing a body in the bed. In all the time you'd been living across him, you've only seen him on the floor.

You feel a warm flutter at that. Whatever reason led him to actually sleep in the bed last night was, you hope you played a role in it.

-

You make your way to the café, and although walking in the rain wasn't ideal, you made it, somehow.

You clock in and head to the register, ready to take the millions of orders that come in through the day.

"Hi- oh! Welcome back. What can I get you?" Your tone of voice made it clear you were surprised, but was trying to not let it show.

"Uhm, just the same as yesterday, and... Can I get a chocolate croissant?" Bucky's gruff voice tells you.

You ring him up, wondering if you should say something about him being your neighbor. Although, he didn't seem too keen on looking you in the eye right now, and you wonder if you did something to make him uncomfortable yet again.

He seems to have this issue quite often.

Little do you know, this time, it isn't because of you or anything you did.

Well, nothing you did on purpose.

Nothing you were aware of at the time.

Anyways, you tell James to go take a seat and that you'd be right out with his order.

"Here you go, James," you place the plate and mug on the table, and this time, when you hear him say something, you turn around with furrowed brows.

"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said." You apologize, waiting for him to repeat himself.

"I- nevermind, it was stupid anyways. You probably have to get back to work." He mumbles while looking back down at his pastry.

"James, whatever it is, you can tell me." You offer with a kind smile. "I can come sit with you during my break, if you don't mind?" A hopeful smile crosses your face.

"Uh, I- yes, yeah, that would be nice." He struggles for a moment, but finally nods his head in confirmation along with his words.

"Alright, James. I get off in an hour for my break." You simply tell him with a soft grin, and you can practically feel his eyes burning into you as you walk away.

The blush creeping up your cheeks also stays there until the remainder of your shift.

-

As you plop in the chair across from James, you inspect him for a moment.

He was attractive, you'll admit.

Okay, he was more than attractive.

"So, James, where are you from?" You ask, your own cup of coffee in front of you on the table.

"Well, I'm Brooklyn born 'nd raised. Never was a time I didn't live here. You?" His lip twitches, looking out the window fondly.

"That's nice. I moved here when I was nine, so I guess I've been here a while. But no matter where I go, there's nowhere like home." You smile.

"There really isn't, huh? This place is irreplaceable." He gives you a crack of another smile, and you find yourself yearning for more from him. Just a tooth, something.

"Well, do you live around here?" You ask, deciding to play coy. You wanted to see what he'd say.

"Uh, yeah, actually. Over on DeKalb and Clinton." He clears his throat, the hint of a smile on his face melting right off.

"Huh, that's so funny. I live on those streets too." You grin, waiting to see his reaction.

"O-Oh really?" James doesn't really know what to say without giving away that he knows where you fucking live.

"Yeah, isn't that funny? Which building?" You're pressing, and you know he knows, but you're having your fun right now.

"T-the uhm... I live in the Washington." He's now making zero eye contact with you, and you're close to breaking.

"What a coincidence! I live in the Oakley!" You're in a fit of giggles when his face drops, you just can't help it anymore.

"James, can I tell you something?" You ask in a coquettish manner.

"Yeah, I suppose you'll tell me even if I say no." He gives a tight smile as a joke.

"I don't wanna sound like a creep, but I knew you lived in the Washington."

"Oh," James releases a breath of relief, "thank God. I knew you lived in the Oakley, but I didn't wanna sound like a stalker either." He says.

You laugh, sliding a hand on top of his resting on the table.

"Y'know, you do this really annoying thing where you leave your movies running on full brightness on your TV, and I can see it through my windows at night." You laugh at the incredulity of the situation.

"Oh... I never even thought of that. I'm sorry, Y/N." He looks genuinely remorseful, and now you feel bad for any bad thought you've had about the man that lives across from you.

"It's alright. No big deal." Your smile does a good job of convincing Bucky that you truly weren't bothered by his actions, but he still felt bad.

"Y'know, maybe I could make it up to you?" He asks, and you feel a blush moving up your chest. "Like, maybe over dinner?" His voice is timid, you can tell by the way he tilts his head down while speaking.

"James," you slide your hand into his this time, your smaller one resting in his large metal one. "I'd love to go out with you sometime."

Before he could react, you stood up from the chair.

"My break's over, but I get off at 3." You lean down and pull a pen from your apron, scribbling your number onto a napkin. "Here."

You walk away before he could say anything, but there's something about him this time that you notice.

He's blushing, too. And he's smiling. A bright, white, blinding smile.

You think of that smile throughout your whole shift, until you see he's still waiting for you when it's time to go.

"So, do you like Chinese or Italian better?" He asks with a crooked smile.

-

bonus scene:

six months later

You and Bucky are laid across your bed, the TV blaring a movie that neither of you are paying attention to. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg thrown over both of his, and his hand running through your hair.

"You wanna know somethin' doll?" Bucky asks, and you feel his chest rumble under your head.

"Yeah, everything okay?" You ask while leaning up on your elbow to get a good look at him, trying to gauge his mood.

"Everything's okay, just remembered something." He laughs, his hand moving to hold your jaw in it. You shivered at the touch, but smiled fondly at the action.

"When I first saw you at the coffee shop, that first day when you gave the free coffee and pastries... I followed you home."

Your brows furrow and it's clear that you were confused as to why.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and then it turned out that you lived right next to me. So I went up to my apartment and wondered what I'd done right in a past life to have you live right next to me, and then I saw you lived right across from me." His face was tipped upwards, like he was replaying that night in his head.

"You followed me home just to make sure I was safe?" You asked in disbelief that he did something so nice for you, when at the time you thought he hated you.

"Of course, sweetheart. It was dark out and there 're some real jerks out there, y'know." One corner of his mouth lifts up in a soft smirk. "Didn't want anything to happen to ya."

You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, appreciating his gesture.

"I really thought you didn't like me back then, so this is a nice little secret you've been hiding from me." You giggle when he pulls you back in for a real kiss.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I could'a hated you if I tried, baby. You're too sweet. And at the time, I was still getting used to being out in the open without being a national security threat." You both laugh lightly, dropping your head down.

A moment passes where you bask in his words, letting them soak in. And then a thought hits you, and you can't help but become more curious. Now you need to know the answer.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, hon." Now Bucky's brows are pulled together, and you reach up and smooth out the wrinkle with your thumb.

"Did you ever... see me doing anything in here? Like, I usually keep the curtains open, and even if they're closed, they're pretty see-through..." You trail off, giving him time to craft his response.

You have a feeling you know the answer, considering how he turns red like a tomato in an instant as words leave your lips.

"I... there was this one time, but I swear, I wasn't trying to peep on you or anything, it was the same day I followed you and I just so happened to look into your window, and you were getting undressed, but I swear, I turned away as soon as I saw what you were doing, baby-" He was rambling, trying to save himself from sounding like a complete creep after all he's just told you.

"Did you like it?" You ask, innocently, but he knew what you were trying to do.

"I-I- You were getting undressed, sweetheart, of course I liked it... are you kidding me?" Bucky's grasping for the words, trying to make you understand.

"Well... we could always recreate it, but maybe in the same apartment this time?" You cock your head to the side, your doe eyes stirring a feeling in his abdomen.

"I think that's an excellent idea, honey." Bucky's hands grasp your waist as you slide on top of his lap. "After all, I am a hands on learner."

-

fin. i hope you enjoyed!

[ohworm-writes]

hello! :) so u know how kuon has a crush on sniper right ? can i get an imagine where reader is jealous bc of kuon, cuz u know, her crush on sniper etc etc (sorry i'm just vv lazy at typing), and how sniper reacts to it ?? can u make it like they're still friends but have mutual feelings for each other as they hang out as a unit, and they get together in the end bc sum confessions happened !! sorry if u don't get it i'm rlly bad at explaining but thank u in advance if u do this !! <33

High-Rise Invasion/Tenkuu Shinpan: Sniper Mask Boyfriend Imagine

high-rise invasion/tenkuu shinpan masterlist

‼ Jealous Reader (over Kuon) + Make up + Confession ‼

Featuring: Sniper Mask, Yuri Honjo, Mayuko Nise (implied), Kuon Shinzaki (implied)

Warnings: frustrated Y/n, crushes, jealousy

a/n - good GODS this has been in my inbox for a while and i’m so so so sorry for not posting it way sooner! hopefully you see this anon, and i hope you enjoy!

content below the cut!

you had developed a crush on the man in the mask ever since you first joined Yuri's little group

you couldn't really tell what it was the drew you to him

he was silent, dismissive, and he was a Mask for goodness sake!

but none of that deterred you from the attraction you garnered for him

you always found yourself trying to interact with him

whether it was offering your help with something that he was doing, or simply keeping him company

most times he brushed you off, walking away and not giving you an answer

other times he silently accepted your offer

those times the two of you would sit in comfortable silence, just enjoying one another's presence

you cherish moments like these for a very specific reason

Kuon

now you had nothing against the girl!

... at first

she seemed nice enough, always eager to help, and full of ignorant innocence

but then you realized her (very obvious) crush on the masked man

the way she got flustered around him so easily

the way she clung to him like a lost child

at first, you thought maybe she saw him as a parental figure, seeing how young she was

but that thought was (very) quickly thrown to the wind when you saw her wrapped up in his jacket, blushing like the schoolgirl she was and giggling to herself

so what she liked him? you liked him too, maybe the two of you could bond over that!

that's what you told yourself

of course, you never acted on it

it was simple, you were too jealous to do so

you noticed how Sniper Mask welcomed all her little instances without a care in the world

not giving a damn when she clung to him

or batting an eye at her obvious fangirling

it pissed you off

naturally, you began to avoid Kuon

and Sniper Mask simultaneously

you avoided the two of them whenever you could

when you saw them walking towards you, you kept to the opposite side of the wall and walked quickly past them

when you all usually ate together, you picked up your food and ate outside

you were simply, undeniably jealous

you didn't think Sniper Mask cared about it, not that you could tell under his mask

but in actuality, he was confused as to why you avoided him all of the sudden

so, he opted to ask you one day

You shut the door to the dining room rather aggressively as you exited, but you couldn't care less. You let your body slump against the adjacent wall, your plate of food resting on your lap.

Today had been... exhausting, to say the least. Kuon was on her usual actions of pining over 'Mr. Mask', crossing your way a few more times than you would have liked. During your meeting earlier with her and Yuri, your fellow mouthless masked allies, she had the gall to talk on and on about how much she adored him.

You hated it.

You looked down at your food, a scowl finding its place on your features. You glared at it, pushing the pieces around with your fork, not noticing a door open and close right in front of you.

"Jesus, if that food was alive, it would be 6 feet under with the glare you're giving it." You hear a gruff voice call from in front of you. A voice you would rather not be hearing right now.

You continue to move around the food, staying silent as the man awkwardly stands in front of you, unsure of what to do with himself in this situation. "Is it, uh, okay if I sit here?" He asks, which finally makes you look up.

He had a plate of food between his own hands, his jacket gone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mask covered his face, per usual, but it seemed much more lopsided than usual.

You give him a shrug in response, looking back down at your food again. He stands there for a moment, before taking a seat right next to you, your knees almost touching. "You don't mind if I eat with you, right?"

His question makes your eye twitch. Was he seriously trying to be all buddy-buddy with you now? You shrugged again, not giving him as much as a single word.

You heard him sigh, setting his food to the side before he speaks again. "Alright, what's going on?" He asks, making your body tense up. "Nothing." You shoot back, scowling.

"What happened to the Y/n that stayed up and talked about their life for hours? What happened to the Y/n that told me horrible jokes to try and get a reaction out of me? Huh? What happened to them?"

That broke you.

You were angry, furious even. Was he trying to blame this on you? You didn't do anything wrong! If it wasn't for Kuon, maybe you would still be that person! If it wasn't for her, you could still be friends with him! You could be-

"What?" You hear him say softly, much softer than his previous tone. Shit, did you say that out loud? "Yeah, you did." He says again, looking at you with a concerned expression on his face, not that you could tell.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out. I just- I’ve been-" You stutter, trying to find the right words. He laughs at that, actually laughs at it.

His laugh is hearty, warm, almost inviting you to laugh along with him. You don't, but he quickly composes himself, making your head turn towards him.

"Why on Earth were you jealous of Kuon?" He asks honestly, watching at how the invisible gears turn in your head, searching for an answer. You sigh heavily, running a hand across your face as you shake your hands while you speak.

"I just- she’s always there with you. She's latched onto you 24/7! I can't get 5 minutes alone with you before she comes barging in." You rant, frustration evident in your shaky voice.

"I just wanted to be your friend, be close with you. I can never do that because she's-she's there." You groan, hugging yourself with your arms. "I sound like a selfish idiot now, huh?"

You laugh dryly, frowning. He sighs, but a smile plays at his lips. "Y/n." He begins, his hand resting you your forearm. "You know she would never purposefully do that. She just, she has an infatuation with me I guess."

He sighs dramatically, earning a chuckle from you. "But." He tells you, watching your eyes as he speaks. "That doesn't mean I didn't miss you."

Your heart skips a beat at his comment, face flushing softly. "Kuon also misses you. You might not have caught onto it, but she looks up to you." He explains, smiling at how your expression softens, mumbling a soft 'she does?' to him.

He nods, laughing once more. "Come on, have dinner with the rest of us. We can't have you sitting alone out here anymore." You roll your eyes, but take him up on his word. He leads you back to the other, Kuon frantically waving over to the two of you the second you pass through the door.

"Y/n! Come sit with me!" She yells excitedly. Maybe you were wrong about her.

after that interaction, the three of you were all on much better terms

yes, kuon still had her habits, but he toned them WAY down after you explained to her how it made you feel

she teased the hell out of you for it too

you, of course, shrugged it off

but you never told her that she was wrong

you were happy to be on good terms with Sniper Mask again

he made a lot more time for you

your old interactions coming back at full force, and some new ones

he loved to take you on little walks on the high rises

he also made it a point to teach you how to shoot his rifle

which was terrifying, but exhilarating

you fell for him harder and harder every day

one day, you ranted your feelings out to Kuon

and while she wasn't surprised, it warmed her heart to see how much you loved him

yes, she crushed on him too, but that didn't take away from the obvious connection she saw between the two of you

unbeknownst to you, Sniper Mask had come to her about the same things

his usually cold demeanor broke whenever he talked with you

he genuinely enjoyed your company, he wanted more of it

and then some

so, she put a plan together

operation "get Mr. Mask and Y/n together" is a go!

she took it all very seriously

making sure you guys get paired together for scouting missions? that's all her

convincing Sniper Mask to get you little gifts and things? of course

overall, the best wing-woman you could ask for

however, the one thing she didn't have anything to do with was his confession to you

he could have used her help with it, that much was clear

but he wanted to tell you how he felt, no help necessary

Sniper Mask had told you earlier this morning to meet you at his room when the sunset before he rushed to get out of your vicinity like you were a plague. Granted, it hurt your feelings, but you couldn't stand him up.

You knocked gently on the wooden door, stepping back and waiting patiently for it to open. After about a minute, while you had heard nothing, you went to knock again.

Your efforts were proved useless as the door swung open hastily, revealing a disheveled Sniper Mask. His usual blazer and fedora were long forgotten, his hair messy, strands pointing this way and that. His mask sat lopsided on his face, still covering it fully.

"H-hey Y/n." He mumbled out, you offered him a wave as he awkwardly shuffled to the side, opening the door as an incentive for you to come in. You stepped inside, walking to the center of the room as you heard him close the door behind you.

You turned to speak to him again, but those thoughts were cast aside as you felt his hands settle onto your cheeks and his lips molding with yours. It startled you, you're eyes open in shock as you looked at him. His mask was completely off, thrown somewhere in the room, but he didn't seem to have a care in the world.

You quickly melted into the kiss, bringing your hands up to gently hold onto his forearms. He hummed, taking a moment before pulling away, leaving the two of you to gasp for air as he rested his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes to meet his, full of adoration.

"I, uh, I think I'm in love with you?" It was more of a question, but you took it happily. You laughed softly, your fingers rubbing small circles in his forearms.

"Was that what that was?"

[myherowritings]

Hey There, Roomie

— After being set up on a bad date with Ushijima, he insists on walking you to your doorstep. Not wanting him to know where you live, you lead him to Iwaizumi’s apartment and pretend Iwaizumi is your roommate. 

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader word count: 4.0k genre: college/university au, fluff warnings: mentions of drinking, language, secondhand embarrassment, suggestive comments at the end, oikawa is meddlesome, awkward but cute confessions™!!

a/n: ur bad date is with ushiwaka ok i’m sorry he’s a nice guy but i had to make it someone HDJSJS,, also this is based on real life events except my friend who lived in an apartment near me isn’t cute like iwa-chan :( LMAOOO i hope u enjoy reading!!! xx sof

「 hq masterlist 」

“I assure you, you don’t have to walk me to my apartment.”

“It’s not a bother. I insist.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Although you tried to keep a smile on your face, you were certain it looked more like you were baring your teeth at him. “Really. You don’t have to do that.”

Ushijima shrugged. “I told you, it’s no big deal.” 

Your grin turned into a grimace as you stepped outside the car and headed towards your apartment complex. You managed to grit out, “Great. Thanks.”

A friend from your class had told you they had a friend of a friend who saw an Instagram post of you and thought you were cute. After they showed you a picture of him, you said the same. Little did you know it would lead to a mess of a date set up by said friend. 

The date was at a karaage chicken place and it was filled with the most uncomfortable silences you had sat through since office hours with a professor who you were sure hated you. Ushijima was nice enough and it wasn’t the worst date ever, but the two of you just did not click. You figured it was partly your fault for agreeing to meet with him despite not having a single clue about his interests and never having talked to him once, but it was too late to undo it now. 

He was a gentleman, at least. Offered to pay, held your seat out for you, drove you to your apartment complex, and, now, was trying to walk you to your doorstep. 

The thing was, you did not want him to know where you lived. 

You didn’t get red flags or feel threatened by any means, but having a guy you went on one uncomfortable date with know your exact address wasn’t really something that sat well with you. You’ve heard enough college horror stories to be wary. But, you didn’t have the heart to tell him explicitly not to walk you home… So the only solution? 

Head to your friend’s apartment in the same complex instead.

“Do you know where you’re going?” asked Ushijima, examining you as your eyes darted around from building to building. 

You’d been to Iwaizumi’s apartment before, but that didn’t stop you from looking lost and confused in this maze of houses. And it didn’t help to have Ushijima’s semi-condescending gaze on you the whole time. The worst part was, you were almost certain he didn’t even mean to be condescending— He just was. To you, at least. It definitely rubbed you the wrong way during the date. 

“Yeah,” you laughed, walking past your apartment, “of course I know where my own apartment is.” 

Iwaizumi’s place was just a few buildings north of yours, which you were quick to remember after catching sight of your place. You briefly wondered if he would be home on a Friday night, but quickly decided it wasn’t important. It’s not like you would be entering his house anyway. In fact, if all went well, he might never even know you were outside his apartment to begin with. 

The plan was to have Ushijima drop you off at the doorstep (since he so unwaveringly insisted that he had to and it was no trouble for him to do so), tell him goodbye, fumble with your bag to “look for your keys” as he walked off, then—when he was out of sight—dash to your apartment and lock yourself in your bedroom for the remainder of the night. 

A foolproof plan. 

“Well, we’re here!” you chirped, standing outside Iwaizumi’s door labeled 237E. You whirled around to face Ushijima. “Thanks for walking me. See you around!” 

“Of course.” He nodded but made no move to leave. 

Your smile wavered. Was he waiting for you to enter your house safely? If he didn’t seem so innocent, it would’ve been incredibly creepy. 

“Err,” you drawled, ruffling through your bag. “I’m just finding my keys. You can leave now; I don’t want to keep you any longer!” 

“It’s not a problem.”

Your right eye twitched. What did he think could possibly happen in the time it took you to unlock your door and enter? While it was sweet—in a very suffocating way—it wasn’t what you wanted. After the bad date that was disappointing for the both of you, you expected him to eat his food and dip. Not see you all the way into your house despite the fact that, deep down, he’d much rather be in his own home. It was domineeringly kind.

Didn’t he understand how stressful this could be for someone? His obliviousness was overbearing, but you supposed you couldn’t blame Ushijima when you didn’t verbalize your discomfort to him. 

“Everything okay?” he asked for what felt like the fifth time that night. 

You chuckled nervously. “I guess I…can’t find my keys?” Looking at him sheepishly, you scratched the back of your head. “But, my roommates will probably be home soon! Or, they might be here now. I’ll just ring the doorbell when you leave!” 

Ushijima blinked. “Why not ring the doorbell now?” 

“R-Right,” you stammered, unsure whether you wanted to rip your hair out or cry in frustration. Maybe both would be good. “That’s smart. I can do that.” 

He looked at you expectantly. 

You winced, bringing your pointer finger to the white button of the doorbell. Before you even had the time to gather the courage to press it, the door swung open suddenly, startling you enough to let out a small yelp.

“Ah—! Iwaizumi!” you cried, eyes wide as you stared face to face with your very confused-looking friend. He glanced between you and Ushijima with a questioning expression, but you rambled on before he could say anything. “Hey there, roomie!” You batted your lashes, pleading with him to play along. “I forgot my keys again.” 

Iwaizumi’s face displayed a look of pure confusion and you were certain he must never have gotten any acting awards when he was younger. His expression became even more puzzled when you wiggled your way inside the door, standing snugly next to his side. 

After an awkward silence, you continued again, “Well, thanks for walking me Ushijima-san! And thank you for the date. Maybe I’ll see you around.” 

If he noticed anything suspicious going on, he didn’t show it. Instead he simply nodded and wished you a goodnight. 

Yup, there was definitely no chance of Ushijima wanting to ask you out on a second date. Not that you were complaining. 

You shut the door—the door to an apartment that wasn’t even your own, mind you—and let out a sigh of relief. With your eyes closed and your back resting against the wall, you momentarily forgot you were standing in the entrance of Iwaizumi’s living room. That was, until you started feeling his heavy gaze on you. 

Gulping at the intensity, you cracked your right eye open ever so slightly. “Yes?” you asked innocently.

“Yes?” repeated Iwaizumi incredulously, voice raised in exasperation. “You want to explain what just happened here?” 

You had a sudden interest in your shoes as you shuffled in place. Iwaizumi was your friend and someone you considered yourself semi-close to— Comfortable enough to hang out with regularly and talk with almost every day, but not someone that you confided in with no qualms. And definitely not someone close enough for it to be normal to show up at his place unannounced. You were much closer to his best friend, Oikawa, but that was largely due to him finding out you had a big crush on Iwaizumi a number of months ago and feeling the need to tease you endlessly. Apparently, nothing brought people together like relentless goading. 

“Another bad date,” you answered with a noncommittal tone. “A friend set me up with that guy you saw, Ushijima, and the date was so awkward.” 

He folded his arms across his chest, pulling his white t-shirt snug around his biceps. You tried not to let your eyes bug out of their sockets at the sight. “And yet you let him bring you home?” 

“I couldn’t say no! I tried dropping hints but he just didn’t get it.” You looked up, a sheepish half-smile on your face. “But I was smart enough not to bring him to my apartment. Hence why I came here. Roomie.”

Iwaizumi let out an exasperated half-chuckle, half-sigh as he motioned for you to come further inside. You slipped off your shoes at the doorway and followed him into the living room, taking a seat on the couch next to him. He rested his arm against the headrest of the sofa and you were consciously aware of his hand mere inches behind your head. 

“Are your other housemates here?” you asked, curious as to why there wasn’t the usual amount of chatter and rage gaming from inside their respective rooms. 

He shook his head. “They’re all back at their hometowns for the weekend.” 

“And poor Iwa-chan is home all alone on a Friday night instead of out partying with friends?” you teased, reaching over to pat the top of his head mockingly. 

Glaring at you for the nickname, he lightly swatted your hand away. “You’ve been spending too much time with Oikawa. His shittyness is rubbing off on you.” There was the slightest hint of amusement in his voice to let you know he was only joking. “And being home alone is better than being stuck with a bad date.”

“Ouch,” you cried, crossing one leg over the other and sticking your tongue out at him. “Yeah, sure, I would rather have been curled up in my bed than go on that date— But you didn’t have to call me out like that.” You pouted. “At least I got free food, I guess.” 

He rolled his eyes with a snort. “If you were uncomfortable, you could’ve called me to come pick you up.”

Despite his gruff voice, there was a look of concern on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed and the corners of his mouth were downturned. Iwaizumi’s offer made you feel warm in the stomach, even if you were sure he was just saying it out of courtesy.

“Or better yet,” he continued in a murmur, “don’t let your friends set you up on dates with guys you barely know, dumbass.” 

“Hey! Aren’t you and Oikawa the ones always telling me I need to go out and date more in the first place?” you said, huffing at his insult. 

They told you your college years were your prime dating years and you might regret not going out with a variety of people now. When else would you have the free time and the patience to date, anyway? That was part of the reason you agreed to blind dates and set ups, after all. If Iwaizumi was insisting you date around, that most certainly meant he didn’t reciprocate your feelings for him. Meaning, you had to get over him somehow before the hurt could kick in, even if that somehow included less than ideal fraternization. 

“I never said that,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Why would I tell you to go on dates with other people? It was just Oikawa who said you should.” 

You blinked in confusion. “But you were there and you nodded in agreement.” 

He shifted his body to get a better look at you, a scowl on his face. “I did not. You were drunk and you probably thought my head was moving when it wasn’t.”

“Well, you were drunk too! Maybe your head was moving and you just didn’t know.” The lines between his forehead deepened and you laughed, unable to stop yourself from tapping the wrinkles with your ring finger. “Don’t think too hard; you might hurt your brain.”

“You really have been spending too much time with Shittykawa,” he said with a defeated sigh. “But whatever you think I said back then, it’s probably not what I meant. You shouldn’t date anyone unless you want to.” 

The thing was, you did want to date someone. Iwaizumi. You were just under the impression he didn’t want to date you. 

You shrugged. “What about you? Have you been dating people you don’t want to?” 

He shook his head. “No. I haven’t dated anyone recently,” he admitted, averting his gaze from you for the first time that night. “I actually...am interested in someone, though.” 

Your stomach dropped. Oh.

“But I don’t think they like me.” 

Trying not to show him the crestfallen expression on your face, you looked down at your lap. You had been mentally preparing yourself to accept that Iwaizumi didn’t have a crush on you like you had on him—you were ready to face the harsh reality—but you were not expecting him to tell you he liked someone else on top of that. That was just a double blow to your gut.

You forced out a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound too strained. “That’s silly. Of course they like you.” 

“I didn’t even tell you who it was.”

“Don’t need to,” you said diffidently, fingers toying with a loose thread on the blue sofa. “I already know. There’s no way someone wouldn’t like you back.”

Iwaizumi snorted disdainfully. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Them going on dates with other people and telling me about them after seems to be a solid indicator that they don’t.”

You froze, letting go of the string you accidentally pulled from the couch. Now, you wouldn’t say you were an overly optimistic person, but you still couldn’t help but think the situation he described was oddly familiar to yours. There was a large chance he was referring to someone else, but with the way you felt his smoldering gaze on your body, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could be talking about you. 

“Maybe they think you don’t like them so they’re going on those dates to get rid of their crush on you— But only because they thought you told them to do so! And, honestly, the dates probably aren’t helping at all on getting rid of the crush; it just makes it get even bigger and bigger as they realize they can’t like anyone the same way they like you and now they don’t know what to do,” you babbled, unable to stop the word vomit.

After processing the words that you had just uttered, you slapped your hands over your mouth to shut yourself up. That was a little more than you had originally wanted to say… Okay, a lot more. You winced. You wanted to subtly hint that you were talking about yourself, not be so obvious as to yell it out with a megaphone and have a blinking billboard pointing your way. 

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

You could only hope Iwaizumi was oblivious enough to let this whole thing go and assume that you were only speaking hypothetically. But he was smarter than that. You knew it. He may be a little dense when it came to romance, but even he couldn’t be dumb enough to misunderstand your conspicuous slip up. 

Your stomach churned as you awaited his response.

“So,” he spoke slowly, keeping his cautious regard on you, “Oikawa was right?” 

You blinked. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. But things just didn’t seem to go as planned today, you supposed. “What do you mean?”

“You do like me, then?”

“W-What? When did…” You gaped, trailing off as your throat tightened. “He told you that?” 

“A month ago, he told me he thought you might like me,” Iwaizumi admitted, a rosy red darkening the apples of his cheeks. “But that was before you started going on those crazy dates, so I figured he was wrong.” 

A cry of indignation escaped your lips as you heard the news. “Seriously?”

He nodded.

“No way!” you sputtered in disbelief. “He found out I liked you months ago— At the beginning of the school year! And then last month, Oikawa told me I should to get over you by going on a bunch of dates.” 

Your brows were furrowed and arms folded as you glared into the sky, wishing Oikawa were there so you could yell at him for making a fool of you. Iwaizumi caught your gaze with a disgruntled look of his own. 

“What on earth?” you groaned, burying your face in your palms.

“I’ll kick his ass the next time I see him,” Iwaizumi vowed.

“Please,” you muttered, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. 

Oikawa knew you had a crush on Iwaizumi. Why would he tell him behind your back? And was Iwaizumi’s response negative? Is that why Oikawa told you to date to get over him? Trying to understand Oikawa’s thought process was enough to almost give you a headache. 

“But, wait,” said Iwaizumi quietly, effectively interrupting your train of thoughts. “Months?” 

You peeked at him through the cracks between your fingers. “Huh?”

“You said you liked me for months now? Since the start of this school year?” 

The heat rose to your cheeks in embarrassment. “T-That’s not the point—!” 

“Because I’ve liked you for a few months now too,” he interrupted before you could deny anything. Your eyes shot open as you stared straight at Iwaizumi, just now noticing the serious expression on his face. 

Was this a confession?

“Ever since that night we ditched our friends to stay inside and watch Godzilla instead of going to the party.” He shared a small, slightly sheepish smile with you as he recalled the memory. 

In the beginning of the year before classes had started but everyone had already moved into their respective apartments, Oikawa decided everyday of the week leading up to the first day of school would be a good day to get shit-faced drunk. It was fun for the first three days, but by day four you were getting worn out, and by day five, just the thought of consuming one more jello shot made you shudder. 

So when Iwaizumi—who you had then only recently realized you had a crush on—suggested you two sneak away to his empty apartment and watch some movies instead, you were more than happy to oblige. 

“I thought you looked...cute that night,” Iwaizumi managed, his voice gruff and tentative. “It was funny how you were scared by the movies even though it was hardly even horror.” He snorted at the recollection, hints of a grin playing on his face. “And I may have realized then that I had already started liking you.”

You bit the inside of your lip to keep your face from splitting into a beam. Your eyes were wide open, almost as if you were in a daze and were only dreaming the events of this night had happened. Iwaizumi shoved his hands in his sweatpants’ pockets, ducking his head to hide his delight at this situation.

“You like me too?” you asked breathlessly. There was still a tone of disbelief in your voice. 

He nodded. “Have for a while now. But I didn’t tell Oikawa about it until last month. And that’s when he said he thought you liked me back.” 

At his words, you visibly relaxed. So Oikawa didn’t blab about your crush on his best friend— Though, in all honesty, maybe if he had, you could’ve had a relationship with him sooner. You leaned your head back against the headrest of the couch with a sigh. “Then if he knew you liked me, why did he tell me to date other people that night we were all out drinking together?” 

“To piss me the fuck off.”

You laughed in surprise, not expecting Iwaizumi to sound so furious. 

“He probably wanted to get me to disagree with him, that dumbass,” he hissed, a scowl forming on his face. Even with his nose scrunched and forehead crinkled, you thought Iwaizumi was as handsome as ever.

“Maybe Oikawa thought you wouldn’t confess without his help so he wanted to push your buttons and make you jealous by seeing me date other people,” you said, chuckling at the audacity of this situation. 

Iwaizumi apparently didn’t share your amusement, since his scowl deepened. “I would’ve confessed without his unwanted help,” he grunted. But you knew he wasn’t too annoyed by his best friend. Oikawa never had any ill-intentions towards the two of you, and you both were aware of that. “I was a little jealous, though,” he admitted with flushed cheeks. “And I may have gotten a bit happier every time you told me afterwards that you didn’t like your date—especially tonight.”

You smiled shyly at him, only mildly embarrassed by the routine you two had picked up. Go on a date (usually prompted by Oikawa), wish your date was Iwaizumi the whole time, go home, message Iwaizumi about your bad date, repeat. But in today’s case, you went to him in person instead of texting. 

“But I was dreading that one night you’d message saying your date went well,” he said, hands balled up into fists and gaze downcast. “Or worse— Not message that night at all.”

Your expression turned somber as you realized that while you were casually dating around to try to get over Iwaizumi, he was there watching you go out with other people. A feeling of guilt spread through you as you bowed your head slightly, wishing you had taken the chance to tell him your feelings instead of trying to toss them aside. 

“Iwaizumi, I’m so sorry,” you said. “I didn’t even think about how it could be affecting you.” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” He placed his closed hand on the top of your head, making you look up at him. He nodded once. “You didn’t know. And Assikawa was the one pushing you to go on dates you didn’t want,” he said wryly, though his tone was more amused than bitter. “But maybe now you don’t have to keep going on those bad dates anymore.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Was he offering—?

“Y’know,” he said, “if you… If we…”

“Went on a date?” you completed, hesitant but hopeful. “With each other, I mean.”

“Yes. With each other.” He held his breath. “What do you think?”

After a beat of silence, your face split into a grin. You practically jumped off the couch in excitement, bouncing towards Iwaizumi to tackle him into a hug. He let out a surprised grunt, but caught you in his arms nonetheless.  

“I think you could’ve saved me loads of wasted nights if you had asked a month earlier!” you laughed, burrowing your face into his chest— His very strong, very muscular chest that had no business being this comfortable. “To think all this time I could’ve been going on dates with you instead of random people I end up blocking a day after?”

His right hand rested between your shoulder blades while his left was lightly cupping the back of your head. He chuckled and you felt the vibrations through his thin t-shirt. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to make up for it now,” he said, voice warm and inviting. “We can catch up on dates this whole weekend. Or just rewatch all of Godzilla again.” 

“That sounds like the perfect date weekend.” The grin on your face never left as you stayed tangled in his arms. “And your roommates aren’t back until Monday, hmm?”

He titled his head down at you to see your expression, the corner of his mouth quirked upward as he smirked. “Yup. They’ll be gone all weekend.”

You two exchanged knowing looks, causing you to wiggle your eyebrows suggestively and make him laugh. His ears turned red and when you pointed it out he got even redder. You smiled at each other as you held him even tighter. 

It didn’t matter what you two would be doing this weekend. All you cared about was getting to spend more time with Iwaizumi.

“Then we most definitely have a lot of catching up to do.” 

[aberfaeth]

i would love to hear about your symbiotic au <3

OH VALDRINORMAN SYMBIOTIC AU AKA BLOWS A KISS TO THE STARS THIS ONES FOR YOU NORMAN TAKAMORI! i loved aso but i had my fucking umbrages with it, namely the way they handled norman. & honestly i think sav brought it up first but we were like hey what if skip/val read the brainslug enclosure explanation plaque at the grivarr worlds and was like oh? this doesnt need to be a predatory exploitative relationship. & then reached out to norman, and they were Extremely antagonistic but slowly grew to trust each other and work together through trials such as: mutually consensual memory plate removal, battle of the brands teamwork, prillbus jail confrontation where for the first time norman sees something in val he recognizes in himself (fear and shame) and hates that someone has made them feel this way. & then they fall in love or whatever just like venom 2018 ANYWAYS HAVE PRISON BREAK SCENE

I can go, Val projects. Riva’s psychic signature is wobbly and unsure, but Norman swears they perk up. I can find a guard. I can let us out.

No, is Norman’s instinctual reaction. He tamps down on it as quickly as possible, but Val still sends a gentle, questioning pulse his way. Which he ignores. “That’s a good idea,” he says instead, voice gruff.

Norman, Val says. 

Something Norman has noticed, now that he isn’t constantly fighting against the foreign presence nestled against his brain stem—for all his fumbling around when he takes the helm of their body, Val is eloquent in his native language. He weaves threads of psychic energy into words like silver gossamer, careful, deliberate. Norman’s name has never felt like such a soft weight in his own mind.

It’s going to be fine, Val says. I trust you.

You shouldn’t, Norman replies, with a wild desperation. What he doesn’t form into concrete thought is a jumble of fear and cowardice and memory ripped fresh enough from his mind to still be glossy and raw, I’ll let you down, I don’t know how to do anything else.

You know how to do lots of things, Val responds. His tone is amused—fond, even—and Norman has no idea what the fuck to do with that. 

Fuck off, parasite, he says. He receives what feels like a laugh in return, too-warm and humid against the back of his skull.

There’s a quick cold snap, like the first breath of winter, the low wet splat of a small slug hitting the tiled floor below. And then Norman is—alone, with himself. For the first time in—it feels like forever, but it’s only been a few weeks, hasn’t it?

It’s like the space between particles has become large enough to dive into.