#hope everyone has a good rest of their day

[rhenuvee]

Pretty Privilege [Alhaitham x reader]

A/N: not Alhaitham managing to sneak his way into my drafts for a third time, reader is from Kshahrewar, lovesick!Alhaitham (Alhaitham's a jerk to everyone but you, might be ooc), lowkey could connect to my other Alhaitham fics

Warnings: drinking mentioned but not alcohol, reader gets a little emotional if you squint (not used to affection)

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Your boyfriend Alhaitham was... something else. You were new to the whole relationship thing, so adjusting to the dating life was something you had to get used to. What you still couldn't fathom were the "perks" Alhaitham has granted you, as his partner.

"Alhaitham, what is this?"

His roommate Kaveh stood with his arms crossed, looking at the scene before him: You were sitting on the couch, meticulously making your model of your project due soon. It was clear from your eyes that sleep wanted to overtake you, but of course you couldn't give in. But the worst part was Alhaitham, who was sitting next to you- though it was more like behind you by the way he rested his chin on your shoulder.

Kaveh is all for supporting your relationship, and on a normal day he'd treat you guys like friends (he'd never say that to Alhaitham). But in this situation, there was something particular irritating.

"...what do you mean." Alhaitham asks in a bored manner.

"It is almost midnight and you're still up."

"So?"

"So, you're usually asleep by at least two hours ago."

"And?"

"...You- You'd usually complain about something like this! How many times have you bashed me for working on my projects this late, and now you're here with (y/n) staying up! Nothing against you (y/n), you know I'd understand." Kaveh adds in the last part quickly, seeing as his complaint might seem directed towards the wrong person.

"All good." You reply robotically, yawning right after.

"Remember what you said a few weeks ago about the lows of Kshahrewar? I sure hope you have something to explain that and the spot you're in right now, particularly taking back what you said."

"Mhm, Kshahrewar is the best darshan..." Alhaitham mumbles halfheartedly in a monotone voice, almost nuzzling his head closer into your neck.

"...Somehow I don't feel satisfied with that." Kaveh sighs, arms loosening from their crossed position. It was clear that the Scribe didn't actually mean it, or at least was occupied with other things that made his answer seem insincere. The architect leaves, not finding any solution to the issue.

However, the obvious bias doesn't end here. Something similar happened the next week, except the victim wasn't Kaveh (for once). You were waiting in line at a restaurant near the Akademiya.

It sure gets busy during lunch time... You think. And even busier because of the special gift they were giving away…

"(Y/n)." A familiar voice calls to you. You look up from your daze and realize it's your boyfriend.

"Alhaitham, what are you doing here?" Suddenly, you start to feel pairs of eyes drift to your conversation.

"More like what are you doing here." He replies sharply. You internally giggle at your boyfriend's sassiness, but don't fault him because there is an abnormally long line this time.

"Well... they're giving away a free TCG card with their new sandwich." You say shyly. You feel a sigh coming from him for lining up for a little thing, but...

"Why don't you just ask the owner? I know him." He replies.

"...What do you mean, ask the owner? You mean just go up to the front?" You ask.

"Yes."

"-Alhaitham. I can't just do that, I can't cut in line." You stammer. You can't believe your boyfriend would actually condone this type of behaviour. He shrugs and walks off. You huff, thinking how sometimes you can't read him.

A few minutes later, you see him walk back with... a sandwich and TCG card in hand.

"Alhaitham." You cross your arms and look right at him. However, of course it doesn't intimidate him, as he just stares right back with the same deadpan eyes.

"Yes?"

You walk out of line, quickly pushing him until you both reach a less crowded area. Because you're behind him trying to shove him by his stupidly large torso, he secretly smiles at how cute you are, trying to take control of the situation and how you puff your cheeks out because of it.

"Alhaitham, you did not just go to the front and ask for the sandwich." You say, starting to scold him.

"I got the card too." He says, waving it. You tsk, snatching the sandwich and card out of his hand. He snorts at your slight frustration in his literalness.

"Alhaitham, you didn't have to. I could have waited in line like a normal person." You pout, trying to make him see the bad sides of his actions.

"The owner would have kept one for me anyway. And I wouldn't let you stand outside for so long. Especially with how heavy your bag is- don’t Kshahrewar students carry bricks?" He explains, sitting down on the stone.

"That's not really the problem..." You say, even though that last part was quite true. "Even though the owner kept one aside, the people in line who saw that would have felt really mad at you for cutting."

"Why should I care about what they think?"

"Alhaitham!" Sometimes you hate how quick and blunt his responses are. You sigh again. By now you already knew about your boyfriend's habits and how straightforward he thinks- and most of the time he is right. At least you know he had good intentions.

"Don't do it again, please?" You say, sitting and putting your hands on his chest. "At least not without asking me first."

"Okay, fine." He's willing to make compromises, especially when you look at him so dearly. You eat your sandwich in peace, giving Alhaitham a few bites here and there, and talk about things that happened today.

Buuttttt, it still doesn't end there. A couple months later, the semester ends and you decide to go out and have drinks with your friends. Alhaitham also mentioned he was going to be there with his friends, but he'd be at another table. It's a win-win, plus it's good to have him there for safety.

"And then, he just brushed everyone off! So I don't think I'd ever have a chance with him." Your friend says sadly.

"I don't think anyone has a chance with him." Another chimes in. You and your friends laugh at the wittiness, happy to be enjoying each others presence after a long semester of working and studying.

"I've seen him carry an anemo vision." You say from passing by him a few times.

"I've seen that too!" Your friend remarks, and the rest nod along. "He's probably very strong."

"I hope you guys have been enjoying your night!" A waiter says as he comes to the table. "Here are your bills."

The waiter hands your friends their bills, but doesn't hand you one.

"Excuse me! You didn't give me mine." You say quickly, before he leaves again.

"Oh! Your boyfriend has already paid for yours." The waiter says, pointing to his table, then heading off. Your friends coo at how sweet you guys were, and suddenly you have a sense of deja vu. After your friends pay their bills for the night, you immediately walk over to Alhaitham's table.

"Alhaitham."

"Yes?" Once again, you're hating how deadpan he sounds when you know he knows what you're about to say.

"You didn't have to."

"I did." You frown again.

"I'll be outside, saying bye to my friends." You say after sighing. Alhaitham nods, and his friends can only smile when they see another occurrence of him spoiling you.

"Why is it that (y/n) gets much better treatment from Alhaitham, yet also doesn't approve of it?" It's Kaveh's turn to pout now.

"I think it's more of 'acceptance' for them, and let's be honest I'd have a hard time accepting kindness from Alhaitham." Cyno says matter-of-factly. Tighnari's ears perk up at Cyno's blunt yet witty remark, while Kaveh can only grumble in agreement. Alhaitham, surprisingly has a small smirk on his face despite the little jab from Cyno. Kaveh's frown deepens.

"I need another drink." Kaveh crosses his arms. Tighnari and Cyno look at each other confused.

Alhaitham abruptly bids his goodbyes, walking off with a satisfied smile. He joins you and catches up, hearing that you've just said goodbye to your friends as well. After a few minutes of walking, Alhaitham breaks the silence.

"The boys think I've been treating you a lot better than them." He says. You turn and look at your boyfriend, a little surprised that he's starting the conversation this time. Usually when you have time alone, you're the one who starts talking. But you close your eyes and smile, taking this as a sign that he's had a good time- even if he won't admit it.

"It's because you do." You say. You’re surprised he brought this up. You're aware of Alhaitham spoiling you since your relationship started, and it has pushed you into a realm of affection you didn't know of. It's still hard to grasp for you, since it is your first relationship, and he makes you happy.

"Is there a problem with it?" He asks.

"...no." You say shyly. The question he asks has a bit more of a unsure 'no' for an answer than you say, but Alhaitham seems to catch on. "It's just hard to get used to."

"Hard to get used to? You deserve it though." Alhaitham says. And you almost want to cry the way you know he's being genuine, but the words feel foreign to you. He senses your emotions, and brings you to a stop, just a few steps away from his house.

"Alhaitham..." You can barely croak out a sentence. He gives you a soft kiss on your forehead, running his fingers near the spot, soothing you.

"And besides, what they don't know is that I do treat everyone fairly. Including you." He says. You cock your head in confusion. His statement sounds normal, but you can't help but think he means otherwise. "Remember your overdue library book? I did hold you accountable that time."

You quirk your head in confusion. You do remember that, and how panicked you were when you realized after he pointed it out. But you were certain he did not hold you accountable, which was terrible especially with his role in the Akademiya now.

"No you didn't." You remark.

"I did. I told you to give me a kiss."

"Wh- a kiss is a romantic thing, not transactional! You mean to tell me that was conpensation?" You sputter in disbelief. He nods, and you can't stay mad to him. "Alhaitham, you're so mushy-"

"I agree. Add insufferable to that as well." A voice interrupts. Your head snaps to the source, which is of course a mopey looking Kaveh. "Also remind me next time, to walk twenty meters behind you guys instead, when walking home."

You open your mouth to say something, but end up staying silent when you watch Kaveh drag himself inside your shared home. You frown, and Alhaitham looks at you, knowing what you're thinking- the same you've thought several times by now.

"Do not." He says abruptly.

"I will buy Kaveh a cake." You say, not paying attention to your boyfriend. You were aware of their bickering, but a lot of times you can’t help but feel bad for Kaveh. Since you’re in the mix now, you feel partially responsible for the privilege you get from Alhaitham- even on his good side, it’s hard to watch others get ignored by him.

"No."

"And a coffee."

"No."

"Yes." You childishly protest against your boyfriend’s lack of empathy (which he does on purpose) towards who’s supposed to be, his best friend. “Tomorrow I will go buy him a cake and a coffee.”

“He can get his own cake and coffee.” He says sarcastically.

“Yes, but I’m sure it’ll make him much happier if he received it as a gift.” You explain.

“You don’t have to.” Alhaitham says, this time with a little bit of softness. You smile, recognizing his efforts to try and persuade you because you know he doesn’t understand why you care about these things. But this time, you won’t waver.

“But I will.” You retort, walking towards the entrance and grabbing the doorknob. “Besides, you said you hold me accountable, won’t you?”

Alhaitham smirks at your cheekiness as you sway your hips when you walk to leave him standing by himself, a satisfied look on your face after referencing the past conversation. He sighs and shakes his head, thinking of how bold you’ve become. He likes it.

“Of course I will.”

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Me: I love Diluc, he is my husband.

Also me: *writes 3 long ass finished fics on Alhaitham*

[buckgasms]

I have filthy idea for trailer park bucky!

You talk to bucky about how one of the naybors you don't like very much is obnoxiously loud when she has her gentlemen friend over and you think anyone whose that loud in bed must be faking it! Bucky intends to prove you wrong by making you scream louder then the other woman

I'm really feeling blessed this evening with nonnies sending me their excellent thoughts 💭

And this is indeed an excellent thought 🩷

So you stumbled out of your trailer feeling very grumpy, your mood not improving when you hear Bucky chuckling at you as he lights a cigarette.

"Bad night sweetheart?"

You growl and take your seat outside with your breakfast and a strong coffee.

"Of course! It's her, again. Every time she has a visitor over she's screaming all night long. It's so over the top, no one screams like that during sex. It's ridiculous..."

You take a long sip of coffee as Bucky puff out a smooth trail of smoke, eyes glittering with mirth. Your phone starts buzzing and you wave at him as you head back in to take a call, getting your day started.

🌝

You are thinking of heading to bed when there is a tap at your door. You groan inwardly, feeling your body ache from tiredness, hoping whoever it is, doesn't stop for long.

You swing the door open and see Bucky standing there, looking divine as ever. White vest sitting low on his chest, jeans tight as always and a soft smile on his face and two beers in his hand.

"Oh, hi Bucky" you say, a genuine smile gracing your face as you step back. You might be tired but when he's looking that good, you think one beer won't hurt.

🌝

As the beer works it's magic you rest your foot on Bucky's lap and nudges his thigh. "So what are you doing here on this fine evening Mr. Barnes?"

He tilts towards you, gripping your leg and lets his hand glide upwards.

"I was thinking about what you said earlier, you know about screaming in bed?"

You giggled at the earnest look on his face, sighing a little as his thumb massages your thigh ever so nicely.

"Well it is insane, she's just showing off at this point...no one is that good..."

He grins wickedly at you.

"I bet I could make you scream sugar... Wanna give her a taste of her own medicine?"

You giggle behind your hand, wondering if he's really serious. But the devious look on his face is going absolutely nowhere.

"Really? You think you can make me scream like that pornstar next door?"

He nods, hands gripping your waist as he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips which you eagerly return.

He stands up and walks over to the window, pushing it open, checking that her window is open too.

"Come over here sugar... Wanna make sure everyone can hear you. Now be a good girl and take off that pretty dress."

You shimmy out of your dress and he sucks in a breath. He beckons you closer and you edge forward, pressing yourself into his chest as his hands grip your waist and squeeze at your soft skin.

"So beautiful sugar... Gonna make you feel so fuckin good..."

He presses kisses on your cheeks, down your neck and along your shoulder. Goosebumps break out all over your skin in the wake of his lips.

You moan and rake your fingers across his chest, whispering little pleas for him to give you more, always needing a little more.

He moves you to sit on the little table by the window. You shiver as he removes your bra, the cooler evening air dancing over your skin. You whine a little but he just chuckles.

"Need you to be a little louder than that... Here lemme help ya..."

He pushes you to lay back, your head right by the window as be leans down and sucks on your pebbled nipple, lavishing attention on you. You shudder and gasp as he nips gently and sucks hard at the sensitive skin.

You back arches and fingers thread through his hair and a long moan slips through your lips.

"Hmm not bad, that's a little louder but I know you can do better for me..."

His lips drift down and you feel him pull your panties down as he goes. More kisses are pressed to your heat and finally his tongue delves into your folds, torturing your clit with gentle licks and sucks.

A finger joins quickly after. He curls it in slow, firms strokes that have you emitting louder cries, a stream of 'ohs' filling the air. His mouth works faster and your feet come to perch on the table, so you can thrust your pussy into his mouth.

His chuckle sends a wave of pleasure through you and you whine when he pulls away, his finger still going strong.

"So greedy sugar. But you taste so sweet, I guess I don't mind." His thumb circles your clit and rubs hard without warning.

"I want you to tell your noisy neighbour who this pretty cunt belongs to. Say it nice and loud and then I'll letcha come."

He stands, pressing a hand to your stomach and adding more fingers and pumping hard and fast.

"Come on sugar, nice and loud...."

You can't really help the scream that leaves your lips and he drags you to your peak. You scream out his name, how you belong to him, over and over until your orgasm subsides and you lie panting on the table, his hands soothing your shivering body.

When you finally stop panting his hands pull you to sitting and he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"That was great, good job sugar...."

You think he's done but he pulls his cock free and rubs it along your folds.

"Bucky...it's too sensitive I can't" you moan as he presses in his fat, leaking tip. He tuts and grips your chin, forcing you to look into his devious eyes.

"We ain't done sugar" is all he says before he thrusts, gripping your thigh to hold you open for him. You can only hold on to his big shoulders as he pounds into you, the sensitivity almost took much.

"Buckyyy, it's so big..." You wail, you don't even realise how loud you are, but it spurs him on. He grips your hair and forces you to watch as he spears into you relentlessly.

"Such a messy girl ain't ya, making a messame?" Lookathat sloppy cunt, love it sugar, taking me so well."

You cry out and rub at your clit, spreading your lips to display yourself more to him.

"Jesus sugar, that's a good girl. You gonna scream for me? Or am I gonna have to make ya?"

Words fail you but you can emit a long loud moan as your walls squeeze him tight. He pushes you back down again and his hips snap just that much harder and faster. His growls and grunts are lost under the sound of your cries of pleasure.

He rubs hard at your raw pussy and you slam into your orgasm, a scream dragged from the bottom of your lungs as you grip the table to keep you grounded.

You feel him pulse within you, before leaning down to press kisses to your sweaty cheeks and forehead. You move your arms to wrap around his neck, fingers drifting down the muscles of his back.

You are about to say something when you hear a very loud, pointed cough. You both look through the open window and see your neighbour glaring at you both before she slams her window shut.

"Whoops"

Yes I was thinking about this vest....

[court-jobi]

How'd You Know (I Needed This)

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's (sleepy) characters/work))

Pairing: Aizawa x reader (American!Pro Hero fem!reader, set before the events of Season 1)

Words: 4.9K

Rating: T+

Warnings: Aizawa has feelings and doesn't know what to do with them, alcohol mentions, slow burn, he fell first she fell harder, the feeling is mutual TM

Summary:

Shouta Aizawa surrenders his capture weapon for the night in favor of humoring Hizashi, and is rewarded for his follow-through at his show. He wants to know you, more than he has from teaching the brats alongside you for the last few months. Wants to know the smile that reaches your eyes more intimately.

He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you -out from all their eyes inside- to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

A/N: I've been WAITING for this one, turn it up!!! Aizawa my beloved, I've wanted to write you for so, so long and can only hope I can do you justice. The man just has such a gentle side and I just wanted to give him something nice and self-indulgent~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Damn it, why was he thinking like this? He’s in public for goodness’ sakes, with only two sips of drink under his belt. Not two drinks- two sips of a drink.  So if that’s the case of his sobriety, why was he off in his own little headspace as if he were drunk?  

‘Put Your Hands Up Radio’ found its home recording studio attached to this lounge: a place Shouta Aizawa never frequented unless expressly invited- or when Eraserhead was needed to scout out trouble. Far too noisy, too chatty, and filled with too many grown adults losing their sensibilities for his liking. 

Through one round of begging or another, he’d been roped into joining some of the staff of UA to an evening out, in support of Present Mic. Naturally, Aizawa would go- as his presence would all but guarantee everyone else’s. Despite begrudging the plans that pushed himself out of his preferred rest mode, he kept true to his word for Hizashi’s sake.

Promise kept, and therefore, appears to have been rewarded. 

Once the show wrapped for the night, his best friend was over the moon at how things were turning into a party that Friday night. After a day of shrill, whinging teenagers he’d wrangled all week, this level of volume was honestly the last thing he needed. Yamada’s voice doubled the decibel of the entire room- and that’s without his quirk activated. He always managed to annoy Aizawa when he started fangirling about one duet matchup or another.

But truthfully? Every sound this tired hero registered around him fell to white noise while he looked at you…

Sweet Little Miss, you are; gracing the lounge with your presence. You’re a vision tonight. Insist with your lilting dip to your words they all call you by your first name, outside of school grounds and against what’s considered custom. No hero titles either, unless an emergency called for formalities- then you’d cave.

These Americans are too casual. Even down to these outfits. What’s this–  black turtleneck, necklace she won’t leave alone- moving it around her thumb like that, short skirt.. and those damn thigh highs and tights. How is it she’s driving that moped of hers, wearing something like this…

Everything on your person, down to the way you held yourself in perfect confidence and ease adorned you like a perfectly-styled pro hero. It couldn't be a more stark contrast to his tried and true wardrobe. Even this after-hours look sat perfectly around each bend and curve of you, as you listened to the group. 

You’re smiling, too. It’s subtle, but it reaches your eyes, which makes it all the more authentic.

A smile he shouldn’t want to keep all to himself. Curves he really should have no business noticing. Features that he’s actually surprised he’s labeling as ‘attractive’ in his mind because the last time he ever felt an ounce of attraction to anyone in that way, he’d barely been able to grow facial hair. 

Desire for a safe place to land his dizzying mind is driving his tired sights to look to you for relief again and again in the conversation– without you even saying a single word. 

The barely-touched drink in his hand is only a prop; something to make him blend into the scene and not something he’s actually tasting for pleasure… meaning, these are his thoughts. Nearly completely sober. Should be illegal. Just illegal-

"Yo Sho, you still with us, sleepyhead?" 

Yamada pulled him out of his thoughts. Disguising any flare of being put on the spot, Aizawa  flitted his absent gaze back to his blond friend–

"Be nice. He’s had a rough day and is a good enough sport by being here,” you chirped up catching Yamada’s pull for Aizawa to part from the fringes of your little gathering.

Now toward you? He’ll soften his edge. After all, with you sticking up for him with blind loyalty, he nearly felt guilty for spacing out and causing you to speak up in the first place.

“- yknow, I'm inclined to take a nap myself," you leaned forward to grab a few more calamari bites to tend to your seemingly insatiable appetite. Aizawa felt warm at the sweetness and straightened up at Yamada’s prodding.

From then on, he made sure to look in your direction more often when you spoke to help him pay attention. He still didn't say much, never did. But he liked the company well enough.

These nights were truly few and far between. Life as an in-demand hero left him jumping from role to role, daytime and midnight obligations. The routine split his waking hours and stretched them paper thin.  Now more than ever,  he typically shirked as much off time as he was offered. And yet, he had to remember to prioritize levity and breaks– and in this case, indulge his treasured friend’s interests and ‘take one for the team’. Good for morale, he reasoned, just this once. 

The occasion was also a way for you to integrate with the group in an informal setting– great for the transplant from the States. You’ve taken amicably to the group of alumni-turned-faculty at UA, though much still remained a mystery about you, presently being peeled back bit by bit through stories and slips of the tongue. There was only so much a dossier could truly reveal about a person- even one curated by S.W.O.R.D. to volunteer aid their Japanese counterparts in their hero work.

It couldn’t tell what kind of teacher you’d turned out to be. Even with no experience working with students, you tread the line between instilling team-centered outlooks and pushing their quirk’s limitations to their max benefit. A crafty, inventive counterpart to complement his blunt teaching style: better together, and even the principal agreed.

It couldn’t point out where your true ambitions lie or where your drive came from. There remained much to be explained as far as your hero status here in Japan– a red-tape nightmare Aizawa was still intrigued to learn about. So far, you’d shared some limitations about “immigration statuses are being vetted with a fine toothed comb, so they’re still trekking through the paperwork”, so your wings are essentially clipped down to a student’s provisional license. This doesn’t please you too much, but you’re driven as much as his finest students with the aire of a professional he’d love to see in full action.

It couldn’t explain the stillness you could dip into, that he only caught once or twice when you believe yourself alone. There’s a past was weighing your shoulders level and compliant in the eyes of the law… but an urge to push back and ‘play this out’  brought hypotheticals to your lips whenever you chatted about what hero life is like for him, and added a sparkle to the eye that he had yet to fully source.

It couldn’t give away the gentleness you hold behind a carefully guarded smile– even in this harsh hero world. Maybe it was that indomitable spirit that those foolhardy patriots overseas carried… or rather, maybe it was the way you fought against such a loud persona. So far, Aizawa has taken only a few notes, but each little mental post-it was cluttering up his headspace. You held a quiet love of tea, a comical passion for the oxford comma, and a mind to care for the little things in life– like the lizards you rescue in an inverted cup to take outside where they belong . 

Surely life must have treated you hard to elicit such softness. Something tenderized you to achieve the peace you carry around or else you’re wearing a damn good mask. No, he determines you had to have made a choice to continue on the path that’s brought you to the present– even to this table where you’re taking your fill of maki rolls while casting little caring glances his way. 

All smiles and calm surety, as he mills through his thoughts that are damn near obsessed with you.

An employee file could never record ‘heart’, anymore than it could expose anything you didn’t want to reveal.

The night progresses while Aizawa stews on these thoughts, and plenty of others… for the ones that drift to his co-teacher offer him more mental stimulation than that he finds in the club’s lights and music.

Yamada’s night of filling his social battery was made nearly perfect by the karaoke that just started. Several of the other teachers got preoccupied in round after round of song, so it left Aizawa with a moment's peace. 

Well, peace he was going to enjoy by laying back on the couch for a little shuteye–  when his gut jumped at the feeling of a hand trailing up his forearm to the elbow with a polite, companionable touch. 

Facing its owner, Aizawa caught your little smirk and nod towards the balcony. You didn't pull hard, yet he followed like a magnet out to the patio. 

From there, rather than stay by the door to listen in on their friends ‘releasing their inhibitions and feeling the rain on their skin’,  you took him to the right, where a matching lounge set positioned itself in a blind spot between the rooftop bar and the fire escape. 

"Thought you looked like you could benefit from some soundproofing~" you brushed your hair back over one shoulder to follow the breeze’s direction, and left an open spot next to you by the railing. 

Nightlife and neon didn’t hold magic for Eraserhead given as many nights as he’s spent perched on precarious heights, but through a newcomer’s eyes, he could see the appeal. This part of the city glowed at night from dusk to dawn, and you clearly loved looking out over it; Aizawa certainly didn't mind this view either. 

Your perception skills are spot on, and incredibly thoughtful as you’ve suggested some fresh air- for his sake. If he wasn’t drawn to you any of the other times he’s paid attention to the spastic moths a more romantic person might call ‘butterflies’ before…  this cements each and every one as valid. 

He likes you. He really likes you. 

Time passed with appreciative quiet until you spoke again, 

"The only thing is, you can't really see stars in the city... there’s too much light."

"The beaches have a nice view," Aizawa replied after some thought.

"Oh yeah?"

"Enough to stargaze properly,” he offered without much sentimentality. Right by the pier was the best spot he and his former classmates would go on the weekends, before their hero work took off.

"I'll have to remember to take a drive there. Y'know, sometime when I'm not in two-and-a-half-inch heels." you chuckled as you shuffled back to the rattan settee, sitting for a bit to stretch out your legs. "I don't know how Nemuri does it."

"Feet hurt already?" Aizawa snuck his hands from his pockets and came to the seat across from yours. “Night’s young.”

"Getting there,"  your laugh greeted him over, "But you know what they say, dress to impress and all that. Yamada really pitched some hype for this afterparty, so~"

Fashion was hardly something that ever swayed Aizawa’s decision-making. Utilitarian was the way to go for his wardrobe- then, as now. 

"If aesthetics are all that determine these pros’ attention, that’s horribly vain." 

You bristled in good humor, 

"He didn't mean it like that– I just meant, he said to look nice for fun instead of for work. Call it ‘girl code’ if you want. We know that means to– just– /doll up a bit/!"

Aizawa held back a snicker at how you still ran into difficulties finding the most apt Japanese equivalents in your (pretty decently executed) second language. English slang you reverted to in moments like these fell from your mouth with an odd drawl. Still couldn’t place the regional accent you carried, but it charmed Aizawa all the same. 

“//Doll up//?” he mimicked. 

"//I like dolling up//!"

Aizawa reached and pulled his glass to his lips, meant to look aloof but not hiding his interest altogether well. 

"You don’t need to put on airs to get people to notice you…" 

"Right, because the accent gives me away."

"No, it’s your-”

Finally, a coward’s streak flared deep in his belly to shut him up. A rare hesitation. Damn this. What the hell’s happening to me–

 “–nevermind."

"My what?" you’re fully  interested, knowing a secret when it's presented.

"Nothing important."

Thankfully you not-so-subtlety dropped it with a hummed ‘ok’, but kept a watchful eye for him in your peripherals. 

The pro hero mused. Better for him to be honest, right? 

Just choose your words carefully. You’ll have to look her in the eye after this, you know. 

Aizawa widened his seated stance so his knee barely breached your space. 

Your sights lifted to him while he put his best poker face on. It’s not really any different than what he’d give to a perfect stranger– the only difference here is he has to force it.

Shit shit shit you're in deep, Shouta.

"You're plenty noticeable as you are. Anyone who meets you can see that," Aizawa shared in his usual soft-spoken tone. "Give ‘em ten minutes, and you've got them wrapped around your finger. It’s a whole impression, not just the outer package. Doesn't matter if you're in a dress that costs a month’s paycheck or a black button down. You're welcoming, sincere..." 

He’s realizing he might be trailing off, but finding you listening with full attention led him on; no liquid courage required. 

"You're stunning from the inside out. Enough to get others to notice."

Aizawa heard your appreciation before he saw it, a hum preceding the a genteel smile. With the win of his walls coming down, he had to give an honest smirk back. It was only fair; you’d earned it just by being you. By your flattered look, you were touched– but your brain was still working beneath the surface, and soon showed by a fleeting expression that spit from him.

Then, you caught your bottom lip for a second, before daring to look in Aizawa’s eyes again. It’s a sneaky look– like he’d snuck a peek at a card he’d meant to hide.

"...You remember what I wore on my first day at UA."

It was half question, half amusement. So dear, but oh-so pointed.

Aizawa froze.

"Black button down. You noticed me, then?" you countered more, "And here I thought you didn't care about appearances~" 

"In professional circles, no. Personal… that's a different thing, entirely." 

He kept your  sights locked onto his, not unlike how he used his quirk in a challenge– only far softer and he could risk the occasional blink.

Even when you took his glass from his hand and placed it away on the table alongside yours, he still looked fondly after you, in fact tilting his head to the other side, studying the way one piece of your hair was caught by your neck. What he’d give to be familiar with you enough to ever-so-carefully brush it back, letting his touch send a wave of shivers across your skin and maybe even make you hum at the gesture. But he couldn’t trust himself to do it now, settling on stretching his arm around the back of the couch. Just an open move, letting you join him on the couch as close as you’d like.

Was he really doing this? He never has before, but this felt so natural. 

You smiled still– and as you sit, you’re leaning into it.  Well then. 

“What was I wearing, Aizawa?”

With free fingers, he risked some little brushes on your near shoulder, bringing a happy little eyebrow lift from you. He just took in your features in close quarters, settled in it, as he remembered that day:

Black button down, grey skirt. Biker boots -practical choice- and these damn tights.

Aizawa’s dazed in the head, but he knows he's listed it off aloud based on how your sights widen, impressed. 

"Hmmm, tights do it for ya?” you smiled, “I'm surprised you haven't jumped the darling Ms. Nemuri then."

"I know way too much about Kayama to ever consider her that way,”  Aizawa’s tempered hand twirled a finger along a blown-away section of hair, just absently enough. “You however, tease just enough." 

"Do I tease you?” you offer with a little depth, “I don't mean to."

It’s here he’s worry he’s stepping over a line- if it weren’t for the downright delicious look in your eye. You say it like you’re sorry for acting unprofessionally– but you’re urging him on, hardly apologetic for your sweet posturing.

"You may not mean it, but it's not unnoticed," 

He took second to swallow, and steps fully over it. 

"or unwelcome."

You’re pleased with this, but deflect with your trademarked humor- 

"Well now that’s saying something. You've seen me in my pjs, too- far from glamorous.  That didn't break the allure for you?"

Aizawa had to huff though his nose at that memory.

"I caught you at arguably your most real self, that first night you patched me up," His outstretched arm rubbed full circles onto your shoulder now, with the lightest touch. 

“Still have no clue why you chose me over Recovery Girl. For the harshest grader in school, that was a pretty dumb move.”

“You were closer than going to campus. It was the practical choice.”

“You didn't even know if I knew first aid.” 

“You do,” Aizawa smirked. “You're too nurturing to not have a knack for it.”

Your legs crossed over, deflecting both your words and refreshing your body movement. In doing so, you slid even closer- a move not lost on Aizawa. 

“Well, I'm still not happy about it. You needed more attending than I was able to pull off. Whatever you get into those nights,” you flitted a look to the underside of his arm that lays outstretched –where you know he sports a scar now- “It… looked like it hurt, ‘Zawa.”

Warm. Warm and cared form. Felt it then, feel it now. That's the life in his chest he gets when he’s around you. 

"Can't change the past, and I certainly wouldn't have changed that. Wouldn’t pass up seeing that sight of you for the world."

This connection, this dance, it all feels that it must be older than what it is, more rooted in a shared history than a short few months. 

Aizawa wants to ‘get’ you. Know the thoughts behind your eyes. Get you talking, even if it means he needs to give up his silent nights and muted text alerts so he can learn you.  He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you, out from other’s eyes, to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

His eyes narrowed playfully, "Are you embarrassed right now?"

Out of this entire teasing exchange, that note seemed to surprise you and turned you shy.  Short of clapping a hand onto your cheek, you just darted your gaze away- can you be cuter if you tried?

“h-Yeah, a little!" –though you tried to snark your way out of it, "you were hurt before, and blubbery- but now that we’re y'know– awake, and talking... Pretty faces make me nervous."

Nervous? Pretty? Aizawa doesn’t like the sound of either of those.

Aizawa raised a brow and gave a look, a touch more serious.

"Hey," He tapped your chin still with his free hand, "if you want me to lay off, you say the word."

Blindly, you hold his hand from retreating away– "No. You're good, I promise."

He’s drowning in you leaning into the cool touch offered to you–

“ Heh, I–uh… I’m pretty sure ‘friends’ don’t talk about each other like this, though.”

He couldn't be a coward now– not with you melting on the spot and giving him an insane amount of hope.

“Maybe not,” Aizawa reasoned gently, “-not if they’re content to stay that way.” 

–then all of a sudden his heart soared at her next words:

"Well… I like this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like you, like this.” With your insistence for touch, you cupped his wrist in your own chill-tipped hand.

Hell yeah. 

Aizawa huffs another win in his foolish heart, but then watches as you keep talking–  you don’t break from your softness, but look reflective off to an absent point on his chest.

“It’s funny, y'know? Most jobs, you’d be lucky to find someone you would actually wanna talk to outside of board meetings and quarterly reports… but here in our line of work, you count on each other to save your lives.”

“That’s right.” Aizawa breathes.

“I uh.. never thought I’d be workin’ with kids- trying to keep them alive too. Teach them how to do the same. But I wouldn’t feel nearly as confident to do it, rise to the challenge, if it weren’t for you, ‘Zawa. You’re just as special. Inside and out.”

And when you look to his eyes again, fully awake and still sober, he swears he’ll say yes to any night Hizashi invites him to if it means he can have you this close. Things with you just feel lived-in. Companionable. He’s drawn to you in a way unlike others before you, because he didn’t believe he’s had the right, desire, or time to even entertain it. 

But everything’s different now. It just works, in his mind. He wants to spend his respites, his missions, everything- with you at his side, having his back. For however long you’d let him.

Touching your cheek, cursing the helmet you’d have to wear on the way home that would hide this angelic face from him once again– Aizawa curls towards you, barely tipping his head which screams ‘kiss her you ass’. You notice, and follow his lead almost halfway. 

“Yeah, I like you like this…” you sighed lightly, “--and I’d like us like this, too.” 

"Hm. Good."

...the door to the patio swinging open from around the corner startles you both. Present Mic doesn’t know his strength as he projects for the block to hear, swaggering about in his search.

You looked flustered sitting back up, but Aizawa was characteristically unphased at the sight of Hizashi finally rounding with a singsong cry of his name. 

Dammit.

"Hey kids, been looking for YOU, Miss America! There's some stateside artists on the karaoke lineup with your name on iiiiit- c’mon! I hyped you already to Nemuri– she didn't believe me that you sang with me for my English midterms!!"

"What?!” you blanched, “ Who said I was doing that?"

"I did!!” Yamada thumbed at his own brilliance, “ C’mon I'll do the first one with you!"

"First one– Dude, I don't need to be touting my Southern-ass self to a bunch of pros before I even make a name for myself here."

"This is HOW you'll do it! Come n’ wow them, break the ice- you’ll do amazing!" Yamada came to your side of the settee, tugging you up to your feet with little fight. "Tch, Sho, you're rubbing off on her, aren't you? Turning our sweet teach into a wallflower as we speak, huh?"

"She was doing me a favor- has an eye out for me when I needed an escape, unlike you." Aizawa droned, to your amusement.

"Yeah yeah fair enough. Now pleeeeeease, would you come inside?  It would be so much fun!"

From the way you’re freshening your jacket collar, you’re warmed from the neck up, caught between what just almost happened and the current situation Yamada is putting you in.

You look to Aizawa just like you did inside– a  glance, but it lingers longer than before. Like you are waiting to see what he thinks. If he’ll stay or go, should you leave. 

But Aizawa isn’t so selfish like before. He doesn’t feel it necessary to keep you to himself, because he sees your affection so clearly in your eyes now. He hosts butterflies in his stomach, yes, but they aren’t frantic and flitting about wondering what you may or may not think of him- chronically tired and a contrast to the breath of fresh air you are. You see him as a companion, too. Someone he might just get the chance to study, and learn, and adore in return.

No, he knows you like him as he is. Knows you’ll choose to meet him where he stands. He can share you, and will simply watch on as you stun him even more...

The Pro-Hero is desperate for some eyedrops in all this wind outside, but he would grin and bear it if you choose to deny Yamada’s pull on you. So instead, he merely leans forward to perch on his knees, with a hand on the lip of both your drinks. What Aizawa says in his non-answer left it open to what you wanted to do.  Stay or go, he’d follow suit.

Returning to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed fellow teacher, you breathily gave in with your ‘ok’. 

"YEAAAAAUHHHH!"

"Damn peer pressure."

"You said yes," Aizawa smirked.

"Oh if she’s going, you're coming in too!" Hizashi was already whisking you away, and Aizawa rose on his own, following your knowing smile over your shoulder and matching it. 

With many forced karaoke and radio show nights, it’s Aizawa who braves the crowd and comes up behind you at one of Present Mic’s shows,  stepping in from the balcony where you wait by its door. He’s fresh off of work, sporting a new scar across his cheek courtesy of his day job, this time.. but you greet him with that familiar scrunch of the nose that he still finds adorable.

It’s rare he leaves campus nowadays, because he feels the stakes are higher than ever for him to remain vigilant. His students are his life, and as proud of them as he is, they are a constant effort of his mind and strength. Rest doesn’t come easy, and his rewards for a job (passably) done aren’t found in many places. 

One constant he has found helps, has been you. 

You, still alluring as ever, but who makes sure he doesn’t fixate on giving and giving of himself until he breaks– but to take his rests, reset, and even take a little jaunt over to these radio shows when he has staff coverage back at the dorms. Gives you two some time to get nostalgic, sentimental– or as close as he can get to those mushy spots in his heart about the club where he wrestled out his feelings for you for the first time.

He smooths a hand across your lower back now, when he joins you. He’s held onto your hands when they're cold, giving you whatever warmth he has. He knows each and every gap on your resume, partnered with you out on the streets, tag-teams in his classroom with this plucky 1-A Class he now leads, and is content to let you fill his thoughts when he wants to rest his eyes.

He doesn’t fight his affections now. Still would rather not simper in public too much because he’s quite averse to being the center of tabloids’ attentions, but stands by you all the same. 

"I'm surprised to not see you up there,” Aizawa greets, cool as ever. 

You lean on a hip, closer to him. 

"He's got his sets lined up today, didn't ask me-” You speak a little louder over the crowd, “I swear, your cockatoo still acts like I'm some gift from the heavens, just ‘cuz I can sing!"

"It's earned. You deserve every bit of it, and not just from Hizashi."

You turned over to him shyly, drawing his attention further– your tendencies to melt under his words encourages Aizawa to compliment you directly. Often. Whatever it is about his voice that you say you’re obsessed with, he still doesn’t understand– but he uses it to full advantage as he robs your drink from your hand,

"I happen to think you have a gorgeous voice," Aizawa speaks low to your ear. “You should sing at home more often.”

“Please. As if the kids would ever let me live it down.”

You refer -of course- to the twenty shared students between you, taking them all in stride since you’ve sufficiently bonded through fire alongside them. 

“That’s teaching for ya. Gotta push yourself beyond, plus ultra and all that.”

You chortle back in your throat, risking a kiss on his etched cheek to counter his snide remark, 

“You’re off the clock, ‘Zawa. No more hero talk, huh?” 

Aizawa cocks a brow, stealing a sip, “Sorry we can’t all turn it off like you, dear.”

The comment has you biting the inside of your mouth at the tease, and allows him a quick moment to press the glass’ condensation against his eye. 

“Want some air, hon?” you try again, softer than this atmosphere should allow.

Looking back at you -your hold on his elbow ready to guide him outside just like the first night- and Aizawa doesn’t need any more sips of the whiskey he holds.  

The retreat to ‘your couch’ is one he looks forward to any chance he gets. Bass boosted from the speakers inside becomes background noise that dulls his senses, doubled by the way you cozy up under his arm watching the skyline shift in light and color in comfortable silence. You trade roles with him: taking watch while he shuts his eyes for some restorative hydration. 

But before he gets too terribly relaxed by your weight settling his aching muscles to stillness, he registers a warm press to his mouth that he’s quick to chase after. That’s a satisfying thought, too: he doesn't have to imagine what it'd be like to kiss you anymore. 

[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

Wish

For the first time in years Joel acknowledges his birthday and wishes on a star. He gets pulled into the past and relives his birthday, the day that changed everything.

Words: 1.7k+

Warnings: all of the emotions. Sadness, depression, but also happy moments and hopefulness :)

*part of @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge*

Main Masterlist

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September 25, 2033

It’s almost Joel’s birthday. Again.

Over the years, he’d let it pass without thinking about it. Losing track of the days was easy while he roamed, too caught up in trying to survive.

But now, in Jackson, time isn’t as elusive. Joel wakes up knowing that Mondays and Tuesdays are for patrolling, Wednesdays and Thursdays are for guard duty, Fridays are for helping with construction, and the weekends he keeps to himself.

The powers that be in Jackson also keep track of time, mostly for crop rotation and organizing the seasons, giving structure to the lives of its citizens. That means Joel has been aware of his birthday this year, creeping closer and bringing along memories he hates.

This year, he can’t live in blissful ignorance while it comes and goes, especially with Tommy around to remind everyone. So instead, he runs from it.

Joel walks down the soft, snowy streets of Jackson with his camping gear strapped to his back. He told Tommy he was going outside the walls tonight, making up some excuse about scouting a building that might have supplies to scavenge.

It was a lie.

Joel needed space—a place where he could wallow in solitude when the old feelings haunted him as his birthday approached.

With his gathered supplies, Joel mounts his favorite horse and rides out of the commune, waving to Tommy atop the lookout tower.

“See ya when you get back! And happy early birthday, big brother!” Tommy yells down.

Joel winces at the reminder and rides off into the distance.

---

Hours later, Joel makes his way to a familiar spot in the forest, a clearing he often visits while out on runs.

This hidden clearing, nestled deep among the trees and brush, is spacious enough for him to see the stars twinkling overhead while remaining safely concealed from any lurking dangers.

He sits by a small fire, eating his rations and gazing up at the night sky, lost in thought. He reflects on how he ended up here, all that he’s been through and all that he's done, dragging himself deeper and deeper into the pit of despair he so often finds himself drowning in.

Suddenly, something twinkles far above in the night sky, streaking across the tops of the tall oak trees.

A shooting star.

Joel had never seen one before; he had thought they had vanished like so many other pure wonders and good things in the universe. But tonight, he was wrong.

Unable to resist, Joel’s eyes follow the tiny, sparkling fragment as it glides across the sky. In that moment, he decides to be hopeful just one last time. After all, his birthday is approaching. Despite years of loathing it and skipping celebrations, maybe he deserves to make one wish.

As midnight strikes and the star falls, Joel closes his eyes and makes his wish.

He wishes to no longer hate this day. He longs to free himself from the burden of September 26th—the day he was born, but also the day he lost his reason for living, the day he lost Sarah. He wishes the memories of despair would lift from his shoulders, that things could have been different. That he could have cherished just one more birthday before everything fell apart and the world went to shit, giving him more good memories to hold onto and keep him company throughout the years.

When the shooting star fades from view and the sky darkens again, Joel feels a wave of silliness wash over him. Of course, his wish wouldn’t come true. With a sigh, he stamps out the fire, crawls into his sleeping bag, hand resting on his rifle, and drifts off to sleep.

---

September 26th 2003

Joel wakes to the sound of an alarm clock blaring.

He bolts upright, heart racing, and instinctively reaches for his gun—only to find nothing there.

As his vision clears, he realizes he’s not in his sleeping bag anymore. He’s in a bed—his bed—from thirty years ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, blinks, and even pinches himself, trying to shake off the dream, but it feels all too real.

Looking around his old room, everything is just as it was on the last day he lived there: rumpled sheets, a pile of dirty laundry in the corner, an old newspaper, and a glass of water on the bedside table.

It’s as if he’s been transported right back to 2003.

Warily, Joel gets out of bed and notices his joints don’t ache as they should. He races to the mirror attached to his dresser and takes in his features. He looks exactly as he did thirty years ago: fewer lines of age and worry, hair short and dark, no grey in sight, and far more muscular. There isn’t even a scar across his nose or temple.

Joel stares at himself in the mirror, breaths coming rapidly. It’s a dream, he tells himself, repeating it like a mantra.

But what if it isn’t? What if everything is as it’s supposed to be? A redo.

Just then, he hears something he never thought he’d hear again, and it takes all his strength not to fall to his knees.

“Daddy!” Sarah yells, her singsong voice bright and clear, just as he always remembered.

She bursts through his bedroom door, grinning from ear to ear—beautiful, whole, and safe.

“Happy birthday, you old fart!” Sarah teases.

Joel bounds across the room, scooping her into his arms.

“Babygirl,” he chokes back tears, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “You’re okay.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” she replies, her voice muffled against his chest. “Why are you being so weird?”

He doesn’t want to scare her, so he pulls himself together, trying to act like this isn’t the most magnificent moment of his life—a blessing to have another chance with his girl.

Gently, Joel loosens his grip and smiles down at her, cupping her cheeks in his hands.

“I love you so much,” he tells her.

“I love you too, Dad. I wish you didn’t have to work today. Working on your birthday is so lame.”

She’s right. That is lame. So, Joel does what he should have done the first time around: he pulls out his old cellphone and calls his boss to take the day off.

“Does that mean I get to skip school too?” Sarah jokes.

“Well, it’s only fair,” Joel says, a grin spreading across his face.

Sarah’s eyes widen. “Really?!” she squeals, excitement radiating from her.

“Why not?”

---

Joel meets Sarah in the kitchen, and together they spend the morning making pancakes and dancing to their favorite tunes. When Tommy arrives, Joel manages to talk him into skipping work as well.

“Come on, Tommy, you’ve never complained about skipping work before,” Joel teases.

“Fine,” Tommy says, his mouth full of pancake. “But when I’m short on rent this month, I’m counting on you to back me up.”

The three of them enjoy breakfast together, relishing their time as a family.

They spend the day having fun together, going to the park for Sarah to show off her soccer skills, stopping into town for ice cream on the way home, and lounging around on the couch, soaking in the quality time.

They end the day with a movie—a birthday tradition featuring "Curtis and Viper 2." This year, they even have a cake since Joel was able to skip work to pick one up.

With bellies full of sugar, Joel, Tommy, and Sarah are all sleepy-eyed on the couch, watching the end credits roll, when Sarah suddenly perks up.

“Present time!” she cheers, darting to her bedroom. Moments later, she returns with a small box in her hands.

“You got me something?” Joel asks, pretending to be just as surprised as when he first opened his birthday gift.

Sarah hands him the box and settles next to him on the couch. “You kept complaining about your broken watch, so I figured… you know.”

Joel opens the box to reveal the watch he prized above all else. He picks it up delicately, admiring the shine of the silver and the smooth, unbroken glass of the watch face.

“You like it?” Sarah asks, her voice tinged with nerves.

“Honey, this is nice,” Joel replies, tapping the watch. “But I think it’s stuck.”

“What?” Sarah exclaims incredulously. “No way! I just got it fixed—”

Joel bursts into laughter, and Tommy joins in.

“Oh ha ha, you got me,” Sarah concedes, rolling her eyes. “That was lame.”

“Where’d you get the money for this?” Joel asks, placing the watch around his wrist and snapping it into place.

“Drugs. I sell hardcore drugs.”

“Nice, kid. Real proud of you,” Joel laughs, playing along.

“Maybe you can help me out with this month’s rent then,” Tommy jokes from the other end of the couch.

“Thank you, honey,” Joel says, pulling Sarah in for a hug and kissing the top of her head. “I love it.”

Soon after, Sarah falls asleep on the couch, leaving Joel and Tommy some time together. Joel appreciates this; he’s missed his brother, and it weighs on him how their relationship has deteriorated over the years.

“Wanna go out to the bars to celebrate?” Tommy asks after a while.

“Hell no,” Joel replies. “Your ass will end up getting arrested.”

“Not fair! That only happened once!” Tommy whines.

“And it sure as hell will happen again if I don’t keep you in check.”

“Whatever,” Tommy concedes, settling back into the couch and scrolling through TV channels in search of something to watch.

“I’m gonna take her up to bed,” Joel says, nodding toward Sarah before standing and gently scooping her into his arms.

He carries his sleeping daughter to her room one last time, tucking her in with a kiss on the forehead. Instead of leaving, he wants to soak up every moment with her, as if any could be his last. So, Joel kicks off his boots and slides into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her.

He falls asleep with a full heart and a smile on his face, grateful for the best birthday he’s ever had.

---

September 27th 2033

When he opens his eyes again, Joel wakes up on the cold, hard ground to birds chirping in a forest clearing. He should feel disappointed to be back in the present, but instead, he chooses gratitude. Grateful for the chance to relive the last moments with his daughter. Grateful for a wealth of new memories to carry with him through the years.

He realizes that maybe next year, when his birthday rolls around, he’ll remember the laughter and dancing in the kitchen with Sarah instead of the horrors that have haunted him for so long. The warmth of those moments will be a beacon, guiding him away from despair and toward hope.

With a deep breath, Joel rises to meet the day, ready to embrace whatever comes next.

[jiangchengisapurpleraccoon]

JC tried to speak up! But those evil Sect Leaders talked over him and shut him down! Meanwhile:

Jiang Cheng's brows were knitted. He rubbed the vein that throbbed at his temple and soundlessly took in a deep breath, "… I apologize to all of the Sect Leaders. Everyone, I'm afraid you don't know that the Wen cultivator whom Wei Wuxian wanted to save was called Wen Ning. We owe him and his sister Wen Qing gratitude for what happened during the Sunshot Campaign."

Nie MingJue, "You owe them gratitude? Isn't the QishanWen Sect the ones who caused the YunmengJiang Sect's annihilation?" Within these few years, Jiang Cheng insisted on working late into the night every day. That day, just as he decided to rest early, he had to rush to Koi Tower overnight because of the thundering news. He'd been suppressing some anger under his fatigue since the beginning. With his natural competitiveness, he was already quite agitated since he had to apologize to other people. When he heard Nie MingJue mention the incident of his sect again, hatred sprouted within him. The hatred was directed at not only everyone who was seated in this room, but also Wei Wuxian. Lan XiChen responded a moment later, "I have heard of Wen Qing's name a few of times. I do not remember her having participated in any of the Sunshot Campaign's crimes." Nie MingJue, "But she's never stopped them either." Lan XiChen, "Wen Qing was one of Wen RuoHan's most trusted people. How could she have stopped them?" Nie MingJue spoke coldly, "If she responded with only silence and not opposition when the Wen Sect was causing mayhem, it's the same as indifference. She shouldn't have been so disillusioned as to hope that she could be treated with respect when the Wen Sect was doing evil and be unwilling to suffer the consequences and pay the price when the Wen Sect was wiped out."

Chapter 73 Tell me, who is the only person within that room who has the information about Wen Qing's direct opposition to Wen Ruohan by saving his life? And who is highlighted to be cranky and filled of hatred because of his lack of sleep and keeps quiet the rest of the conversation after Nie Mingjue asks "You owe them gratitude?" He started to explain and shut up when Yunmeng's Massacre was mentioned, essentially because of his hatred about that incident, he kept quiet about what he owed the Wen siblings. You'd think Jiang Cheng was trying to tell them and they kept cutting him off or redirecting the conversation, (with how much credit people give JGS) but isnt it just that he wasn't in a good mood? I'd understand it alot more if he did explain his debt and them sheltering them and got shut down because then he would've at least tried to help them, but no, hes not scared or worried for his Sects safety, he's cranky and hateful

[prettygirl-gabi]

Tension

---

---

Rating:General Audiences

Warning: Fluff, heavyyyyy angst, arguring, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom:Seventeen (SVT)  (boyband)

Relationships: !idol Dino x !idol f reader

Summary: What happens when you are the only girl member of svt, but you only but heads with Dino....

(I wanna establish that y/n has been a member since the beginning as a pr stunt, but the fans liked have a girl member in the group)

Trope : work frenemies

---

Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the thirteenth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

It started like any other day—a regular Tuesday morning with Seventeen rehearsing, voices overlapping, the faint smell of sweat and cologne filling the room. Everything was in motion, and yet I found myself anchored to the spot, glaring at Dino. Our usual standoff, fueled by some unspoken rivalry, like clockwork.

Ever since I joined the team, there was this weird tension between us. It wasn’t that we hated each other. No, hate is clear-cut, direct. This was… messier. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to punch him or kiss him, and that uncertainty scared me.

“You’re not in sync,” Dino snapped, cutting through my haze, as if sensing my thoughts. He turned to me, his eyes sharp and critical. “Again.”

I rolled my eyes. He was always so damn nitpicky about the choreography, like he had something to prove. To me. To himself. To the group. I wasn’t sure which.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” I shot back, my voice harsher than intended. “I’m doing fine.”

“You’re dragging the rest of us down,” he spat, not even trying to hide his frustration. His jaw clenched in that way that made my stomach twist. Why did he have to look so good when he was angry?

“I’m not dragging anyone down,” I retorted, stepping forward, close enough to see the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, the rise and fall of his chest. “Maybe if you stopped micromanaging everyone, we’d get through this faster.”

His lips twitched into something like a sneer, and for a second, I thought he was going to say something cruel, something that would sting. But instead, he just scoffed and turned away, muttering under his breath, “Whatever.”

I hated this. The constant back-and-forth, the biting comments, the way he got under my skin. It was exhausting, and yet, I couldn’t stop. There was something about Dino—something infuriating and magnetic, like we were stuck in this endless dance of tension, neither of us willing to give in.

The rest of practice passed in a blur, with Dino’s words ringing in my ears. I was distracted, my focus shattered. It didn’t help that every time I caught a glimpse of him, my heart did this stupid flip, like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to beat faster in anger or something else entirely.

By the time rehearsal ended, I was done. My muscles ached, my head throbbed, and I just wanted to get out of there, away from him, away from this. But of course, fate had other plans.

“Hey.” His voice cut through the silence of the empty studio, and I froze, my hand hovering over the door. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to look at him.

“What do you want, Dino?” I asked, my voice cold. Distant. It was easier that way.

“You’re still mad,” he said, not a question, just a statement, as if he already knew.

“I’m not mad,” I lied, my hand gripping the door handle tighter. “I just don’t want to deal with you right now.”

He laughed, a bitter sound that made something inside me clench. “Right. Because we’ve been getting along so well lately.”

I couldn’t help it. I turned then, my eyes narrowing as I faced him. “Maybe we wouldn’t be at each other’s throats all the time if you weren’t such an arrogant ass.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought I’d crossed a line. But then he stepped forward, his gaze locked on mine, and the air between us felt charged, electric.

“Arrogant?” he repeated, his voice low, dangerous. “You think I’m the problem here?”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. “You act like you know everything, like you’re always right, and it drives me insane.”

He was closer now, too close, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of his cologne. My breath hitched, and I hated myself for it. Hated that he had this effect on me.

“Maybe I wouldn’t act like I know everything if you weren’t so stubborn,” he shot back, his voice tight. “You never listen. You never let anyone help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” I said through gritted teeth. “I can handle myself.”

“Right,” he muttered, his eyes flicking down to my lips for a split second before returning to mine. “Because you’ve been handling it so well.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him to screw off, but the words caught in my throat. Because suddenly, everything—the anger, the frustration, the months of tension—it all came crashing down on me. And before I could stop myself, I reached up, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was raw, desperate, filled with all the things we’d been too afraid to say. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was no rivalry, no frustration, just the feel of him against me, his lips on mine, and the overwhelming sense of relief that came with it.

But then reality came crashing back, and I shoved him away, my chest heaving. “This doesn’t change anything,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

Dino stared at me, his eyes wide, like he was just as shocked as I was. “You’re right,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Over the next few weeks, things between us shifted. The arguing didn’t stop—if anything, it got worse. Every conversation felt like a powder keg, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. But beneath all that anger, there was something else now. A heat, a pull that neither of us could ignore.

One night, after another particularly brutal rehearsal, I found him sitting alone in the studio, his head in his hands. Without thinking, I sat down next to him, the silence between us heavy.

“I’m tired,” I admitted quietly, breaking the tension. “Of fighting with you. Of pretending like I don’t—”

“Like you don’t care?” he finished, lifting his head to look at me, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it.

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah. Like that.”

He sighed, leaning back against the wall, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just… I don’t know how to act around you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

He glanced at me, a small, bitter smile on his lips. “You drive me crazy,” he admitted. “In the worst way. And the best way.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Dino…”

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “I don’t want to keep pretending like this is just… nothing.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. For the first time in months, there was no anger, no frustration, just the two of us, sitting in the aftermath of all the chaos we’d created.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” I whispered, my heart in my throat.

He turned to face me, his eyes searching mine, and in that moment, everything clicked into place. All the fighting, all the tension—it was because we’d been running from this. From whatever this was between us.

Slowly, tentatively, he reached out, his hand brushing against mine. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself fall.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But for the first time, it felt real. And that was enough.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

            ‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[cerise-on-top]

Hii, how are you? I hope you're fine, can you do pleasseee write how Nikolai, Price and Laswell how react to a reader that dream to be a housewife, someone that just love tô cook and take care of the house. Love youu.

Hello there! I'm fine, thank you! And sure I can!

Price, Laswell and Nikolai with a Housespouse!Reader

Price: I think he’d try to tell you to pursue at least some kind of job. But deep down, he actually would kind of enjoy that, as much as he hates the fact he would. On the one hand, he’s well aware that it’s not that unlikely for him to die on the battlefield and you won’t be able to live off of his earnings forever, so he wants you to have a good education and a well paying job. But on the other hand, he does like the sound of having a housespouse. Just someone sweet and loving to come home to, who will take care of his home, who will cook for him, and who will even do his laundry. Just someone he can spoil and love. He also kind of likes the fact that you’d be somewhat dependent on him, it sort of boosts his ego. But in the end, I feel as though his rational side would win and he would try to get you to get a well-paying job. If you’re still up for it, you can always cook a little bit after work, but he will absolutely not reprimand you for not wanting to either after an eight hour shift. In fact, when he’s home and had some good shut eye, he probably would love to help you out a little with all those chores. He’s an acts of service kind of person. Plus if he really were to pass before you, he wants you to be able to take care of yourself as well. Money wise, I mean. He does kinda hope you’ll miss him at least somewhat after his passing, though.

Laswell: Oh, absolutely not. Not saying that I write for fem!readers, but if you are a woman, then there’s absolutely no chance you’ll be a housewife for her. She loves you, and women did fight quite a while to not have to be housewives for the rest of their lives. No, you’ll get a good education and get a well paying job. Or at least a job that you’ll enjoy. If your thing is crocheting, you’re really good at it and you make ends meet by selling your stuff, though, then that’s fine by her as well, though. But she wants you to have at least some form of stable income. I know it’s not alright for her to think something of that sort, and she is well aware of that, but if you’re more of a gender neutral kind of person, or even a masc one, then she doesn’t mind it as much. Of course, she’d much rather you have a good job that pays your bills, even when she’s not around anymore, but she doesn’t see it as such a big problem if you’re not a woman. I don’t think she’d enjoy it too much, though. In fact, you’ll always have her “meddling” with your work in that she’ll actively do what she can to help you out with chores. Laswell is not a very touchy person, so she shows affection through gift giving and acts of service. And yes, she will absolutely sulk if you don’t let her help you. In fact, she’ll sometimes send you out to buy some groceries, only for her to do some chores that you would have done otherwise. No, you will not be overworking yourself as long as she’s around.

Nikolai: As much as I hate to say it, I do believe he’d actually enjoy having a housespouse as a partner. Nikolai is cocky enough to believe that he’ll actually die of old age instead of on the battlefield. I mean, he is on a good path there, not everyone could go into the military field and make it to 48, but still. He’d actually just love to have someone to come home to, who he can spoil, who will love him despite all the atrocities he commits on the daily. Besides, even if he were to die, he has enough money to actually keep you fed until the day you die, unless you’re bad with money. But that has nothing to do with him. I don’t think he’d actually try to convince you to become a housespouse, but you seem eager enough for it anyway. Still, if you ever grow tired of it and want to change your mind, then he’ll pay for your education. He can get you in just about anywhere too. But he’d love to not have to worry too much about doing chores and stuff when he’s home. Though I do believe he’d still want to cook because his food is heavenly and he knows that. It’s his pride and joy. Though, he would love to buy you just about anything you could ever want or need. Loves coming home to a kiss from you and a good meal on the table when he’s too tired to cook. You’ll absolutely never miss anything at all with him. So yes, he’d definitely love you even more if you wanted to be a housespouse for him.

[skellymom]

"Vagabonds" Chapter 21

"AMARANTHINE"

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

Hunter meets a smuggler Nomaadi Star Woman with a powerful force sensitive teen who changes the trajectory of CF-99's lives...as they ALL try to escape from The Empire together.

To read Chapter 20 - "DIFFICULT CHOICES"

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/761407251706707968/vagabonds-chapter-20?source=share

Word Count: 2.8 K

Background: The crew splits up: One group to continue repairing the Beldame. The other to take Mad to the Rebel Base. What lies in store for them?

Amaranthine definition: Undying, immortal, eternally beautiful. A deep purple-red color.

THE ACTION RAMPS UP IN THIS CHAPTER!

For anyone new to this series: "LOVE" is the nonbinary/genderfluid neurodivergent/nonverbal Force sensitive kid of the main OC of this series named Mad. Mad is an older single mother, close to almost 50 years of age (not many older female protaganists in stories, so I decided to make one.)

Warning: SW Canon violence, blood, snapped neck, dog mauling human (defensive move for the doggo), some swearing, angst, tragedy.

(Credit: Cool dividers by @plum98 @strangergraphics-archive Pinterest: Hunter)

“The Beldame STILL needs further repairs” Tech voiced his ship wide diagnostic report of the the Beldame.  “It seems the maintenance on YOUR ship hasn’t been kept up for some time.” 

“Not subtle are ya Tech” Mad shot back.  “Before the Coruscant Job, we BARELY fed ourselves.  Jobs weren't paying much of a living wage for Nomaadi during The Republic Era.”   

“No need to be offended.  I was merely stating...” Tech remarked flatly 

Echo comically slapped his forehead with his hand.   

Wrecker, standing next to Tech grimaced and signaled his brother to STOP TALKING. 

Tech was oblivious. 

Hunter just sat there, chin in hand as he rested it on the armrest of his seat, slight grin as he watched Tech unassumingly poke the Dryax.  He wished Crosshair could be here.  Knew the sniper would absolutely RELISH Mad and Tech bickering. 

He’d be eating this shit UP! 

“What I'm saying is LOVE and I are POOR.  Does that spell it out for you?”  Mad sarcastically replied rubbing her belly.  “Was hoping to finish the repairs with the credits from THIS job.” 

Giggles from the kids. 

Tech softened.  He realized his sass was rude.  By comparison, the Marauder was in top condition currently because the Batch hadn’t been estranged from the Republic for very long. 

“Well...an electromagnetic interference such as what LOVE emitted would damage ANY ship.”  This was the best apology Mad would get from Tech.  “If we expect to exit this hyperspace lane, rudimentary power for locomotion to the Beldame must be restored.” 

“I agree.  Don’t know WHY you couldn’t have just kept to the bare FACTS in your status report.” Mad verbally jabbed back.  “Didn’t need that EXTRA remark thrown in.” 

Tech rolled his eyes.  Everyone on the ship snickered at him. 

“So, how much longer before the Dame has some thruster capability?” Mad demanded. 

“Another standard day or two of repairs.  It will be enough to get us out of hyperspace and somewhere we can procure replacement parts.  Otherwise, the Beldame won’t be able to enter hyperspace again.  The Marauder used a considerable amount of power to pull your ship in.  However, it’s wearing on our ship’s engines to continue to do so.” 

Hunter intervened “Can we leave a group of crew members behind to work on repairs while another accompanies Mad to the surface of Taphao Kaew’s Rebel Base?” 

“Seems the only option.” Echo stepped into the conversation. 

Tech continued “Technically the Dame SHOULD be safe for now, but we cannot continue to lurk in this hyperspace lane long term.  Hopefully the Rebel Base will allow us to land and continue repairs on the planet’s surface.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Mad replied “Of course, I want Hunter with me.  Sil, I want you to stay and help fix the Dame.” 

Sil nodded to Mad who continued “LOVE, stay here and protect the ship for the time being.  We still need that shield generator up and working.” 

LOVE immediately shook their head in heated disagreement. 

Omega bounced up and down, hand up...clearly she wanted to be involved.

"Omega?" Mad turned to Hunter. Not wanting to speak for him regarding his younger sister.

Hunter added “Echo and Wrecker can come with us while Tech, Sil, and...” 

Tech interjected “We...will need MORE people to work on the Beldame if we are expected to leave within the expected timeframe.  Perhaps Echo and Wrecker should stay with Sil.  I will navigate the Marauder and LOVE can accompany Hunter and Mad for protection purposes.  That is MY suggestion.” 

“AWW!” Wrecker groused.  “I wanna go.  Been working on the Dame all this time!!!” 

“So have I.” Echo grumped at Wrecker “Don’t hear ME complainin!” 

Omega burst forth "CAN I GO TOO???"

ALL the Batchers simultaneously turned and shouted "NO!"

"Aaaargh!" She stomped her little feet.

Sil threw his arm around Omega's shoulder "You can stay and work alongside me!"

Omega pretended to be grateful...Sil scoffed at her halfhearted try.

Hunter glanced at Mad for her opinion.  She nodded. 

“Everyone in agreement?” He addressed the crew. 

Everyone nodded. 

Wrecker crossed his arms and pouted. Omega eyed Hunter disappointedly.

"Sorry kid...next time." Hunter promised.

“We move out early tomorrow morning.” Hunter announced.  “Everyone hit the sack.  Got a big day ahead of us.” 

Mad didn’t need an alarm.  She awoke to Hunter stroking her hair.  Mad opened her eyes as he traced the side of her jaw sweetly.  She took his hand and kissed it. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Anxious.” Mad rubbed the sleep from her eyes.  “I don’t want to think about what we might or might not be walking into.” 

“Hey...” Hunter kissed Mad’s forehead “I’ll be there.  So will Tech and LOVE.  You got nothing to worry about.” 

Mad smiled. 

He’s worried too.  Trying to put on a brave face. 

She loved him for it. 

“Oof, the BABY pressure on my bladder!”  Mad threw the blankets back... 

Her belly was even LARGER this morning! 

Mad attempted to get off the bed and failed.  She flopped back on the bed and sighed. 

“Help please...” 

Hunter grinned.  He put his arm around Mad’s shoulders to help lift her off the bed. 

“Need me in there too?” 

“No, smartass.  I can pee all by myself thank you.”  Mad sassed.  “But if you’re offering you can scrub my back in the shower.”  

“Mmm...” Hunter pinched Mad’s butt cheek playfully. 

“Don’t get any ideas, Sergeant.  You ordered an EARLY start to this mission.” 

Tech covertly landed the Marauder along the heavily wooded surface of Taphao Kaew.  The plan was to have Tech stay with the ship.  Hunter and LOVE would take Mad to the Rebel Base and radio Tech with any decision the extraction point contact had for the babies.  From there on in, the plan was open to “improvisation”. 

He watched Hunter, Mad and LOVE leave the Marauder and disappear into the strange alien forest.  Tech stood watch at the Marauder’s side hatch for quite a while... 

Eventually his attention-span waned.  It was taking longer than expected.  Tech wished he had advised Wrecker to come along after all.  He could carry Mad all the way there and back easily.  Not that Tech didn’t expect Mad to be able to make the journey, as she was capable albeit slower.  It was more due to Hunter hovering like a father hen, therefore slowing her down considerably. 

Sil pulled out the treat box from the Beldame’s Galley and shook it loudly. 

Nothing. 

“TIGGY!” Sil shouted through the Beldame. 

Quiet. 

Wrecker came around the corner “I’m worried.  Still can’t find ‘er.” 

“Little Menace is probably tucked away somewhere in the Beldame.  Let sleeping dogs lie.”  Echo gestured.  “Got LOTS of work to do.” 

Hunter held Mad’s hand and slung his other arm around her shoulders.  He could catch her lest she slip, protect her from blaster bolts, or an approaching enemy. 

Love hovered behind them, grinning and watching the interaction between Hunter and Mad.  Eventually Mad glanced over her shoulder, leading Hunter to do the same. 

“Wut?” She scowled comically. 

Oh...YOU TWO. 

Hunter picked up the subtle facial micro expressions between LOVE and Mad.  It seemed LOVE was able to control what and when Hunter could communicate with them.  He nodded to Mad, who instinctively understood his inquiry. 

“We’re being...lovey-dovey.”  Mad whispered to Hunter. 

“Not used to it yet, huh?” Hunter pulled up his helmet to expose his face, leaned in and kissed Mad on the cheek.  Just a gentle brush of his lips while walking the forest path. 

Mad roped an arm around his tucked waist, squeezed firmly and affectionately. 

Disss-gustin' LOVE snorted out loud. 

Mad giggled. 

“Stay here.” Hunter abruptly blurted, then nodded to a stunned LOVE.  He let go of Mad and dashed off the trail...quietly.  As if he was a weightless wraith, ghost of a man, vanishing into the deep shadows of the forest. 

Mad and LOVE glanced at each other with wide puzzled eyes. 

Hunter IMMEDIATELY popped back onto the trail startling them BOTH. 

He presented a Wild Rambling Amaranthine Rose.  Its passionate purple and velvety petals emitted a sweet yet exotically musky odor.  The abundantly green leaves nestled against the flower’s petals.  The large, lush blooms while striking were protected by razor sharp 4-inch spikes all over the plant. 

A fitting flower for Hunter’s lady. 

He had SOMEHOW so quickly avoided the thorns to obtain an amazing specimen without injury. 

Hunter got down on one knee... 

“Whaddya doin???” Mad stared down at him suspiciously. 

“Proclaiming my love and devotion to my...lover...lady...special person.  We never settled on a title.”  Hunter preened. 

Mad stifled a laugh.  She was that cynical to think Hunter’s proclamation was a silly joke. He was coming out of his shell, exhibiting a dry humor, but THIS was pure tooth rotting sweetness.  A grown man with the occasional heart of an innocent boy.   

He’s not cynical like ME. He has SO MUCH HOPE Mad thought.  Thank FORCE.  I’ve LOST mine long ago.  I NEED this.  Mad thought guiltily.  She’s been ALONE for so long. Independence was ALWAYS Mad’s go to.  She could STILL have that, but with the luxury of passionate, empathetic companionship. 

Hunter cleared this throat embarrassingly “I’m hoping that WHATEVER is required on this planet...we’ll STILL be together afterwards.  I’ll even settle for whatever time we have left...a day or a lifetime.”  He had a fleeting expression of FEAR in his eyes. 

“Hunter...” Mad was speechless and a bit concerned.   

“I should’ve done this earlier with EVERYONE present.  Didn’t really HIT ME until now.”  

LOVE floated soundlessly watching and picking up on the vibes of the situation. 

Mad took the flower from Hunter, tucked it into the hair of her Mohawk, pulled Hunter from his knees, and embraced him.  He embraced her back with an emotionally hitched breath.  They kissed sweetly and deeply.   

LOVE didn’t feel embarrassed or offended by the open display of affection.  Their mother was long overdue the companionship of another.  LOVE wanted Mad to be HAPPY.  It seemed to FINALLY have arrived. 

Annnnd I pronounce you bonded life partners for many years, boop, beep, boop.  LOVE Force Spoke to them both while waving arms like a total goof. 

Hunter and Mad blushed.   

The group continued their journey. 

Tech leaned over the game on top of Gonky’s head.  Rubbing his chin, while contemplating his next move.  His mind a million miles away... 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!”  

Gonky jumped up and knocked over game pieces as Tech whirled around. 

A green armored Trooper stood inside the Marauder; blaster trained on him. 

“Shit!” Tech swore under his breath, hands hovering over both of his holstered blasters. 

Well, I’ve DONE it NOW!  Tech mused.  Our goose is cooked!!! 

“Where are you from?  Any more crew members?  State your planet of origin!” 

Tech couldn’t help blurting out “Are you a mercenary???” 

The Trooper closed in on him menacingly. 

Tech improvised cooly “My companion and I” he motioned to Gonky “are traveling botanists who sample and study the flora from differing planets of the galaxy.  Today was the day to study YOUR fair planet.” Tech attempted to avoid grimacing embarrassingly.   

He failed. 

Clones are HORRIBLE liars. 

“Botanist with ARMOR and BLASTERS???” The Trooper wasn’t sold on Tech’s lie. 

Tech launched into what he knew “We MUST protect ourselves from many natural dangers.  For instance, the flesh-eating flower of...”  

“I’m NOT INTERESTED in your LIES!” The Trooper slammed his blaster into Tech’s chest... 

Tech put both hands up and steeled himself. 

Then a loud THUD caught the trooper’s attention.  He eyed Tech for a second, blaster still digging into his sternum.  When he felt sure Tech would not resist, the Trooper turned to glance behind him into the half-lit shadows of the Marauder. 

Tech, unable to do anything at that moment, glanced in the same direction as the Trooper...  At nothing but shadows. 

The trooper turned back to Tech “WHO ELSE is with you?” He viciously hissed. 

Tech attempted to come up with something on the fly, but his brain locked up while his eyes widened with concern due to the high probability of having his guts blasted across the Marauders cockpit. 

He didn’t need too much time though... 

A black blur SLAMMED into the Trooper!  He screamed for a brief second before it bit deeply into the gap in his armor.   

Tiggy snapped the Trooper’s neck with brutal precision.  The noise was loud as it silenced the scream immediately.  His body collapsed into a heap on the ship's decking. 

She did it all WITHOUT breaking ANY skin! 

Tech watched as Tiggy released the dead soldier, then guiltily backed up into the shadows.  She was comically visible... 

...until her dark coat seemed to melt and become one with them.   

Only her yellow eyes shone in the darkness.   

Tiggy found the ability to CLOAK herself like some of the undersea creatures of Kamino!  Tech quickly surmised it was due to her enhanced breeding...even if she was only meant for food stock originally. 

Tech’s jaw dropped.  “Fascinating!”  He could see from her eyes Tiggy was NOW cowering in doggy fear.  She closed them and disappeared entirely. 

“Tiggy...” Tech coaxed.  “GOOD GIRL!” 

She LAUNCHED out of the shadows and slammed into Tech’s chest.  Tiggy slobbered his face, the areas where she leaned up against him blending in with his armor, clothing, and pockets...half of her cloaked, half a fully visible dog. 

She knocked the wind out of Tech, and he was absolutely THRILLED for it.  He wrestled her off him, then gave a command. 

“Daab!” 

Tiggy healed at Tech’s side as he stood up. 

She waited patiently for whatever else he required of her. 

Tech then attempted to comm Hunter that the Marauder had been discovered.  

Hunter, Mad, and LOVE reached a small clearing and could see the Rebel Facility... 

PEOPLE WERE RUNNING OUT OF IT. Terrified people!  Frantically trying to escape a figure dressed in green armor, leveling a blaster rifle at them.   

He picked people off with a terrifying precision. 

Hunter drew his weapon.  Mad pulled a blaster out from under her robes, surprising him that she was even packing at all. 

“Didn’t think I'd walk into this without at least a blaster, Hunky?” Mad shot a glance at Hunter. 

“At least?  You’re carrying more???” Hunter quirked an eyebrow. 

“Of course.”  

They both took aim. 

A Rodian dressed in medical attire and an Empire Storm Trooper, dressed in plain white armor, ran towards Hunter and Mad screaming “LEAVE!  WE’VE BEEN INFILTRATED!!!” 

The Rodian grabbed Mad, trying to drag her away with them. 

Hunter and the Storm Trooper’s eyes met.  Hunter IMMEDIATELY sensed he was not a threat. 

“A few soldiers and I DEFECTED from the Empire.  CX-Troopers TRACKED us!” The Stormtrooper yelled as he ran past. 

“CX WHO???” Hunter yelled back. 

Then the hair on the back of Hunter’s neck stood up straight.  He yanked Mad out of the way of a blast bolt.  Unfortunately, it hit the Rodian doctor and she fell to the ground.  Hunter berated himself for not anticipating. 

Mad squeezed off a shot.  It impacted the CX’s pauldron, throwing him off balance, but still alive. 

LOVE threw out a Force shield around them all. 

Hunter and Mad provided cover fire while watching the stormtrooper drop to the ground over his comrade.   

The Stormtrooper yanked up his helmet and a Mirialan TEENAGE BOY of no more than 15 or 16 peered out from under the armor. “Reeda!  Let’s get you up.” 

The older Rodian sadly replied.  “No... RUN Jebith.  Take them with you.  Be safe.”  She yanked a detonation device off Jeb’s belt and activated it. 

Jebith embraced Reeda, wiping a tear from his eye, then glanced up at Hunter.   

Hunter, shocked, threw his hand out to the teen.  “Come with us!  We’ll get you off world!!!” 

Jebith grasped Hunter’s arm, and he hauled Jeb to his feet. 

Hunter grabbed Mad and RAN!  Jebith on his heels.  LOVE levitating quickly behind him, keeping the Force shield.  The CX-2 regained his footing, openly stalking and attempting to blast them dead. 

Unfortunately, NOBODY got very far before the device went off.  A blinding flash of light sent EVERYONE flying backwards.  Hunter and Jeb had their armor, LOVE had The Force... 

...Mad was RIPPED from Hunter’s grasp...she had NOTHING. 

LOVE was pushed violently away like a leaf in the wind.   

Hunter and Jebith found themselves thrown like toys.  Jeb cleared a tree by millimeters as he flew.  Hunter anticipated his trajectory and was able to tuck and bounce off a large branch, his clone physique MUCH hardier than a human.  He landed on the ground yards back, continued to roll as he contacted the ground, then flipped up in a crouched standing position. 

Hunter scanned the area around him.  He attempted to see past the smoke and debris raining down.  “MAD?  LOVE?  JEB???” 

Jeb landed HARD, then managed to lift his head in time to see Hunter run off. 

Hunter and Jeb heard a blood curdling wail. 

Hunter went into autopilot and ran blindly towards the sound.  He could almost taste singed flesh, fresh blood, and smell LOVE’S fear as it joined with his.  He ignored the small raining debris and instinctively dodged the larger ones.  Hunter tracked low to the ground, almost on all fours as he wove, dodged trees, and uneven ground. 

The smoke cleared as he approached LOVE howling in emotional agony.  They were holding Mad... both covered in blood... 

I TRIED...I... COULDN’T CATCH HER IN TIME!!!  LOVE screamed inside Hunter’s head. 

...bloody flower petals strewn across the forest floor.  Purple contrasting with crimson red.

A beautiful thing destroyed in an instant... 

CHAPTER 22 TO ARRIVE SOON!

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[galactic-magick]

Be Proud: Viktor x Reader

Summary: Viktor's newfound fame as the co-founder of Hextech has taken its toll on your insecurities.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions and allusions to body dysmorphia/eating disorders

Author's Note: I starting writing this to play with the idea of how founding Hextech probably gave Jayce and Viktor celebrity status in a way and how that would affect them and people involved with them. It ended up turning into a vent fic about my body image issues as well, to the point I almost didn’t post because it got so personal. But I figured there’s people out there who relate and might find solace in reading this as I did writing it.

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You’re so proud of him. Everything he’s accomplished, everyone he’s helped. He’s living his dream, creating the future, and he’s being listened to and valued by topsiders. This is all you’ve ever wanted for him, and you would never think of standing in his way.

Which is precisely why you’ve never told him how insecure it all makes you feel.

Before Viktor got involved with Hextech, life was so much more predictable. You both could live your days together in peace, never being in the spotlight and rarely interacting with the highest of powers in Piltover. Life was hard, sure, but nothing you couldn’t manage without some tasteful spite and stubbornness. Viktor always knew his background would be a stumbling block for him up here, and you really weren’t much farther ahead, being from a title-less family with half your relatives from the Undercity.

But you’re not used to being around such glamour and poise. As Viktor becomes more involved with the Council and the wealthier areas of Piltover, making Hextech gadgets per their requests and being invited to fancy events, you’re left mourning simpler times. You’ll never get used to people coming up to you on the street while you bring your husband some lunch, or people staring at you during conferences when you’re just there to support him. Everyday citizens want to know and analyze everything about you, simply because you’re married to Piltover’s finest scientist.

You don’t like to bother Viktor with how it’s affected you, especially since he’s so good at handling it all. He’s always been so proud of who he is—where he came from—because he’s had to be. He’s not phased by the new fame as the co-founder of Hextech, and he easily shrugs off any comments people make about his past or his looks. To him, celebrity status is just a slight annoyance that occasionally distracts him from doing his work in the labs. But for you, it’s brought back every insecurity you’ve ever had about yourself.

You’ve stopped joining him as much at dinners and banquets because you fear they’ll judge how you look in a dress. You’ve stopped chiming in to interviews so you don’t say something stupid and embarrass him. You’ve stopped visiting him so much while he’s working so people won’t talk to or see you on the street.

You’ve started picking yourself apart in the mirror again, fussing every morning until you might cry. You compare yourself to the beautiful specimens that surround you, perfect in face, body, and manners. You start wondering if people judge how you speak or how much you eat. You wonder if people gossip about your family origins or your marriage. You wonder if you really, really, tried—if you could look like them. If you could be like them.

Viktor has started to stay back from some events with you lately, claiming Jayce is better at being the face of Hextech anyway. But tonight marks the five year anniversary of the company, and Councilor Medarda insisted there be a grand celebration.

The feast and dance will be held in her personal mansion, with the rest of the council and all the investors invited, as well as several reporters and journalists. Jayce will give an update address on what they’ve been working on, and what they hope to achieve by the bicentennial Progress Day.

This is something you can’t get out of and you know it. You drive yourself crazy trying on every dress in your closet, hoping to find something suitable for the affair. Half of them don’t even fit, which sends you into a further spiral, and the ones that do still don’t look good enough in your reflection.

Now the floor is covered in failed attempts at getting dressed, negative thoughts taking over your mind. Thoughts you know aren’t true, but you can’t stop thinking them.

He’ll be embarrassed to be seen with me.

I’m not good enough to be here.

I should eat less.

If I tried harder I could look like her.

I should check how much I weigh again. What happened to that damn scale?

They only invited me because they have to.

They probably talk about me—

You’re so deep in your head that you jump when you see Viktor leaning against the door frame, eyes full of love and concern.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You look down at yourself, wearing the last dress you had in your closet. It fits perfectly, but that’s part of the problem.

Viktor moves towards you as tears well in your eyes. He wipes them away with his thumbs, smearing some of the makeup you put on earlier.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“No.” you reply, avoiding his gaze.

“No?” he chuckles. “Why not?”

“It’s so stupid,” you sigh. “I thought I recovered from this. I should be able to handle this.”

“Handle what?”

“All this publicity shit!” you finally look at him. “I hate being watched and talked about and judged for what I say and look like all the time. I hate being asked about personal things and nearly passing out because I’m scared to eat in front of people. I hate all these superficial gatherings that are probably just for show-”

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he cuts you off, dropping his crutch to the floor and wrapping his arms around you. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been feeling this way? Why didn’t you tell me it was getting bad again?”

You sniffle, “I...I didn’t want to bother you with something that doesn’t seem to bother you. You’re so good at being confident no matter what people say about you.”

“You think it doesn’t bother me?” he questions. “You think it doesn’t hurt me every time I overhear insults about me or my home, let alone when they say it to my face? You think I don’t notice that most of these people wouldn’t blink an eye if I died if it wasn’t for what I can offer them?”

He squeezes you tighter before slightly pulling away to look at your face, “I’m just better at hiding what it does to me, darling. Having a drive to prove myself is not the same as confidence. Now,” he kisses your forehead, “Tell me why you’ve been in here for over an hour and still aren’t ready, hm?”

“Well,” you gesture to the piles on the floor. “Those ones don’t fit. I must’ve gained more weight but I don’t really know for sure because I can’t find the scale. And those ones I just don’t like. And this one does fit, but it’s tight and I’ve never worn something form-fitted to an event before. I don’t want to deal with comments about my stomach sticking out or my arms looking puffy or whether I’m proportioned to their tastes.”

“You truly believe they’ll say those things?”

“I don’t know what they’ll say. That’s what’s so scary.”

The tears return, falling slowly down your cheeks.

“Darling,” Viktor says softly. “No one will ever think or say anything as horrible as what you think and say about yourself. I promise you that.”

You nod, allowing him to soothe you, “I know.”

“I need you to tell me when these thoughts are getting bad. Do you understand? I never want you to go so long feeling this way ever again,” he tilts your chin. “Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, if you really don’t want to go, I’ll make up an excuse to get us out of it. But…” he slides his hands down your curves, “...it would be quite a shame if I didn’t get to see you wearing this all night.”

“You actually think it looks good?”

“Of course,” his eyes travel down your figure. “You always look perfect to me.”

“But-”

“No buts. Listen to me,” he faces you towards the mirror. “This body has gotten you through so much. I want you to be proud. Most of these people have never known a day of true hardship, but not you. You’re strong and you’re soft and you’re beautiful, and you’re the only one I’ll ever desire.”

You smile, knowing he means every word. You try to see what he sees, remembering every time he’s showered you with praise. You know he’s never once agreed with any of the horrible things you think about yourself. You know he loves everything about you, including how your body compliments his smaller, angular one. He’s never made you feel bad about anything, so why is it still so hard to believe him?

“Thank you, Viktor,” you say, turning to kiss his cheek. “I’ll try to be proud.”

“Good,” he nods. “Now, no more worrying about the scale or falling into old habits, alright? I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll try,” you laugh a bit. “You know what happened to it, though, don’t you?”

“Of course. I threw it out months ago,” he smirks. “You think I didn’t notice you checking it every single day?”

“You’re too good to me,” you bend down to pick his crutch up off the floor and hand it to him. “Let me just fix my makeup and we can go.”

“No more crying it off, alright?” he chuckles.

-

Jayce and Mel are waiting for you, welcoming you both to the celebrations. You can already feel the eyes and cameras on you, but you hold your head high, squeezing Viktor’s hand extra tight.

It’s been awhile since you’ve attended an event, but they always seem to go the same. Investors and council members come up to chat, mostly directing their questions towards Jayce. Sometimes they act as if Viktor isn’t even there, which boils your blood to the point you’ve said something on multiple occasions. Viktor has told you many times that he doesn’t mind being behind the scenes, and that Jayce is better at talking anyway, but you can never fully let it go. If people are going to gossip about him and your lives but not actually talk to him, you’ll gladly take the liberty of giving people a piece of your mind. You’d rather focus on lifting him up than dwell on your own self-consciousness, anyway.

One thing is different this time though—being that Viktor is a lot more handsy tonight than usual. He’s not normally one for public displays of affection, sticking to hand-holding and a few reassuring touches here and there. But tonight he can’t keep his hands off you.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, whether it be listening to the conversations, answering questions, or participating in the feast and drinks. He always has a hand on your waist or your thigh, gliding to your hips and stomach every so often. It seems mindless, as if he does this every time you’re out together, but you know he’s putting in a special effort to make you feel good.

And damn is it working.

You feel more at peace than you ever have since entering the public eye, proud of who you are and who you’re with. Who cares if people are whispering about their opinions on the Zaunite inventor? Who cares if there’s pictures of you in tomorrow’s tabloids with unflattering angles? Maybe all that matters is you’re having fun with your husband, and he’s making you feel oh so beautiful.

The night goes on for hours, attendees fizzling out until there’s only a handful left. You convince Viktor to dance with you before you leave, leaning against you and swaying simply. You wrap your arms around his neck, wiggling your fingers into his hair. He looks at you with such admiration, such devotion.

How could you ever doubt yourself under the gaze of those eyes?

“You lovebugs ready to head out?” Jayce approaches you both. “Viktor and I have a meeting with Heimerdinger in the morning.”

“Ah, yes, we do,” he briefly looks away from you. “But...perhaps we could push it until the afternoon?”

Jayce rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you guys are in for a long night. Have fun.”

He waves and walks away, and you burst out laughing.

“Is it really that obvious?” Viktor jokes, returning his full attention to you.

“Viktor, darling, you’ve been all over me since we got here. I’d say the entire city knows how bad you want me tonight.”

“Maybe I want them to know,” he grins, sliding a hand up your dress and squeezing your thigh.

“Viktor!” you gasp, playfully slapping his hand away.

“Alright, I suppose we can go home first,” he pivots around, moving towards the door and extending his arm to you, “Shall we?”

You nod, quickly returning to his side.

Jayce was right, it’s going to be a long, lovely night.

[ionomycin]

2023 favorites

[rubbesart]

happy father’s day to the best dads 🥹

[humblemooncat]

Finished the graphic, so I can finally make the announcement!

I'll be hosting a Heavensturn Art Party at my place on Saturday, the 20th of January at 8pm EST (7 CST / 5 PST)

Come dressed in your favorite Far Eastern or Dragon-inspired outfit! We have an onsen outside and in the basement for soaking in, so bathing suits are fine as well!

You can come to draw or just hang out, but any level of artist is welcome and encouraged to attend! Take it as time to practice on willing victims! :3c

I hope to see you there! Happy Heavensturn, and Happy New Year!

[tianhai03]

an accidental detour: part 1

a short little comic where dante gets sent back in time to a familiar place.

[hearts-hunger]

goodnight world's sweetest cutest boy <3

[dredshirtroberts]

i was going to say i hate when i'm right but actually i enjoy the sensation of being correct even if i don't like the thing i was right about. So I'm very happy to be right so often, actually (especially now that no one in my life is actively trying to gaslight me)

[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

i have been Considering. watching sgt frog again. bc i stopped at around 119 . and it is a very fun show. but The Horrors