#so congrats on finally doing that but its within my fucking right to still be uncomfortable and keep you blocked

[rainbowtvz]

the shipping with canon minors thing quite literally was true, took you a year to finally drop them, allegedly, and has 0 to do with antiblack white people being upset over you saying they can't use the aave word simp anymore because unless theres a second party out there saying shit, the "rumor" came from me and it was a fact at the start.

"i didn't do that except i did but it's false!" like cmon

anyway- more screenshots from this rando showing them harassing me, being ageist, and ableist.

like genuinely how am i supposed to take this interaction in any kind of good faith when they were hostile and ageist out the gate and then ended up being ableist to me by indirectly calling me stupid. just call me the r slur instead if you're gonna do that.

[mercurycft]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 — 𝐋𝐖

## the bubble universe - leah x reader !!

hi everyone!! jeeeeez its been a while - back with some more fluffy writing! ive decided to create something called ‘the bubble universe’ where all of these fluffy fics i write will all intertwine with eachother within this universe! you can find this one & other related ones under the ‘bubble universe’ section of my masterlist! i’ve finally finished uni! everyone say congrats ru! so you guys can have my full attention again! missed you all so much - this one is a longgggg one! i hope you love reading it like i enjoyed writing it! love always - RGx

find THE BUBBLE UNIVERSE! — here

fluff and angst at times, no major warnings besides quite heavy details of IVF and fertility treatments - alongside failed fertility treatments, as well as relationship impacts and heavy emotions but also loved-up-ness. also not proof read bc fuck that.

5.8k words.

you don’t really mean to bring it up. it’s just one of those days; you’re curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket over your knees, a half-drunk cup of tea going cold on the table, and leah’s feet resting lazily in your lap. the telly’s on but neither of you are really watching it. you’re both too comfortable in the quiet, too used to each other to need constant conversation. every few minutes your eyes drift from your phone screen and up to the telly, watching absentmindedly as women and midwives scramble around the screen. you’re lost in the tv when leah shifts slightly, toes pressing into your thigh in that unintentional way she always does, and something bubbles up from your chest. maybe it’s been there for a while, tucked behind your ribs, but it feels new when it finally comes out.

“do you ever think about when we’ll actually... start?” you ask, not looking at her. your thumb traces a loose thread in the blanket.

there’s a pause. then she moves her foot and sits up properly, like she hears the weight in your voice and knows it deserves her full attention.

“start what, baby?” she asks, even though you both know what you mean. you shrug, still not meeting her eyes. 

“ivf. the baby. all of it.” it goes quiet again for a second, but not in a bad way. you can hear her breathing, slow and steady. then she scoots closer, pulling your hand into hers.

“i think about it all the time,” she says softly. 

your eyes prick before you can stop them. it’s silly; you’re the one who said it first, after all. but hearing her say that, that she’s been thinking about it too, like she’s been waiting... it hits something deep in your chest, something that’s been hiding in the pits of your stomach for longer than you care to recall. you nod quickly, like you’re trying to shake the tears away, but your voice cracks anyway. “i don’t know why it makes me so emotional. i just, I want it. so much. and i’m scared.” leah doesn’t flinch. she just brings your joined hands up to her lips and kisses your knuckles, one by one.

“of course you’re scared. it’s a big deal, making a whole human.” her smile is soft. “but we’re gonna do it together. and we don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

you rest your head on her shoulder, letting her warmth soak into you. leah hums thoughtfully, eyes scanning your face as she listens to the way you try and regain your ability to breathe calmly. “we don’t have to rush. we’re engaged, not on a timer.”

you laugh wetly, pulling back just enough to look at her. “you’re so annoyingly calm about this.” she grins, brushing your cheek with the back of her hand. 

“one of us has to be. you cry at ‘call the midwife’.”

“shut up,” you mumble, but you’re smiling now too. it doesn’t solve everything. you still have questions, decisions to make, a whole unknown ahead of you. but for now, leah wraps her arm around you and tucks you into her side, and it feels a little more possible. like maybe, just maybe, this is the start of the ball rolling. 

━━━━━━

you don’t talk about it again for a while.

not because you don’t want to, not really, but life just sort of.. rolls over you, like it always does.

the season wraps up, which means leah’s schedule is all over the place. interviews, events, charity dinners, flying back and forth for end-of-year bits with the club. you get pulled into family things too, your sister’s moving house, your cousin’s baby shower (which is a whole thing on its own), and your mum keeps roping you into “quick” errands that always turn into all-day excursions. the days blur into heat and trains and too much coffee. leah’s home but not really home, you pass each other in the kitchen, in bed, quick kisses and quiet I love yous before sleep eats you both alive. it’s not bad. just busy. loud. life-y.

but then one night, weeks and months after the initial conversation, your mind reels again. truth be told it hadn’t stopped since you first discussed it, the thought always in the back of your mind. tonight the thought feels different though, not scary or intimidating, just there. you’re folding laundry at the end of the bed, back to leah and trying to make sense of the mismatched socks and crumpled t-shirts, the way leah somehow manages to wear three jumpers in a day when she’s home even in summer.

she’s laid out across the mattress behind you, one arm thrown over her eyes, hair still damp from her shower. every so often she hums at a song on the playlist, but mostly she’s quiet. soft. the kind of quiet you only get when you’re really comfortable. safe. you fold one of her hoodies and pause, hands hovering, then glance over your shoulder.

“i’ve been thinking about calling the doctors,” you say. it’s casual, like you’re commenting on the weather, but your heart thuds anyway. leah doesn’t move at first. then her arm shifts, and she turns her head toward you.

“yeah?” her voice is low, gentle.

you nod, eyes back on the laundry now. “just… to start the process. maybe ask some questions. get a sense of what it’d actually look like. i don’t know.” you feel the bed shift, and then her arms are around your waist from behind, her chin resting between your shoulder blades. she’s warm, her breath steady where it touches the cotton of your shirt.

“that sounds like a good idea,” she murmurs. “you been thinking about it a lot?”

“yeah,” you say, voice quiet. “i know we haven’t talked about it for a while, and we’ve both been too busy to properly talk about it again, but- but it’s been on my mind. not in a pressured way, just.. there. all the time. kind of like, when you want something and you’re trying not to scare it off.”

leah nods against your back. “i get that.”

you place the last shirt onto the pile beside you and let out a breath, leaning into her arms. “i just don’t want to wait forever, you know? i want time. i want to give us room for it to be messy. in case it doesn’t work the first time. or the second.”

she’s quiet for a long moment, then she presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder. “i want that too.”

you turn in her arms so you’re facing her now, kneeling a little on the bed as she sits back on her heels. she’s watching you in that way she does sometimes, eyes kind and open, like she’s holding space just for you.

“so maybe this week,” you say. “maybe i call. just to see what’s what.”

“i’ll come with you,” leah says, immediate and certain.

“to the call?”

you both share a few confused and breathy laughs, leah leans forward, rests her forehead against yours. “no, idiot. to whatever comes after.” 

your chest tightens, but in a warm way this time, like something is settling into place.

“okay,” you whisper.

and leah kisses you, slow and steady, like there’s all the time in the world.

because maybe now, there is.

━━━━━━

it’s been about a month since you made the call.

a real, grown-up, shaky-voiced call to the gp to ask how to get started. the woman on the other end had been kind, refreshingly unfazed, and walked you through the steps. first came a referral to a fertility clinic, which took a couple of weeks to process. then the clinic called, emailed you a pile of paperwork, and scheduled your first proper consultation. 

and somehow, that’s today.

you’re standing in the bedroom tugging at your jumper for what feels like the fifth time, even though you know you’re not going to magically look “more ready” than you already do. leah’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with her hands loosely knotted in her lap.

“you okay?” she asks gently.

you nod, then shake your head. “i don’t know. i feel like the minute we walk in there they’re gonna tell us something awful.”

leah stands and crosses the room to you, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist. she smells like laundry powder and that face moisturiser she swears doesn’t make a difference. “they’re not,” she says. “but if they do, we handle it. together. alright?”

you nod again, this time with a small exhale. “alright.”

the clinic is modern and warm in that polished, slightly impersonal way. the front desk woman takes your name when you check in. you’re both handed another clipboard of forms, which you fill out slowly while seated side by side in the waiting area, your knees touching, leah tapping her pen against the plastic over and over.

when they call your names, the room feels suddenly too quiet.

the doctor is kind. older than you expected, with wire-rimmed glasses and a tone that balances both directness and softness. she walks you through the basics: bloodwork, hormone tracking, egg count checks, donor options. the emotional and physical implications. the fact that it can take time. you both listen closely, nodding, asking questions when you need to, and scribbling little notes in the margins of the folder you brought. then she pauses to glance down at her notes. 

“have you both talked about who’s planning to carry?” you freeze slightly. it’s not a hard question, but it’s heavier than the others. you’d been avoiding the answer, not because you didn’t know it, but because you were scared to name it out loud. scared it would sound selfish. final. real. you open your mouth to say something vague, but leah beats you to it.

“she does,” she says, clear and quiet.

your eyes dart to hers. “leah,”

“i know,” she says quickly, before you can start listing all the reasons that it should still be a conversation. “we can talk more. but we’ve talked about it, haven’t we? you want to. and i want you to.”

your mouth presses into a thin line. “you’re allowed to want it too.”

she tilts her head. “i know. but i don’t need it. you’ve wanted this for as long as i’ve known you. it means something different to you. you blink once. then again. you hadn’t expected her to say it like that, so simply. no big declarations, no guilt-tripping. just.. the truth. you clear your throat, trying to swallow around the lump that’s managed to sneak its way up. 

“yeah. okay.” you say lowly, eyes on leah.

the doctor, sensing the moment, nods and carries on. an initial scan is booked for next week. blood tests and health assessments this week if you're up for it. she explains the next few steps, the realistic timelines, the costs. none of it is sugarcoated, but none of it feels impossible either.

you leave with your arms full of leaflets, printouts, test forms. you feel a bit like you’ve just been hit by a very polite, very educational truck. outside, you take a deep breath and look at leah, who slides her sunglasses on like nothing in the world just shifted.

“well,” you say.

she nods. “yeah. that was a lot.”

“you sure about what you said in there?” leah doesn’t look at you, just starts walking toward the car.

 “yep, i wouldn’t have said it unless i meant it.”

you smile, something soft settling in your chest. not dreamy or dramatic. just solid.

the morning of your blood tests arrives faster than you expected, 3 days have blurred past and then suddenly you’re dressed in something comfortable but easy to roll up your sleeve in. a loose long-sleeve top and jeans, and leah’s already downstairs making coffee when you come into the kitchen.

“ready?” she asks, handing you a travel mug, “decaf, doctors orders,” 

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “yeah. let’s just get it done.”

the drive to the clinic is quiet, both of you lost in your own thoughts. parking is easier this time, and you find yourself surprised at how normal the whole place feels now only after just one visit. the same white walls, the same soft hum of fluorescent lights. at reception, the nurse greets you warmly and asks if it’s your first visit for the tests. when you say yes, she hands you some paperwork to double-check your details and reminds you to keep hydrated but to avoid caffeine, leah reassuring here the coffee in the travel mug is decaf. 

you sit in the waiting room, leah close by. the minutes pass slower here than anywhere else, and your fingers twitch a bit, like they want to fidget but you’re trying to stay calm. when your name is called, you stand and follow a nurse down a bright hallway lined with photos of flowers and landscapes.

in the lab room, the phlebotomist is cheerful, making small talk about your plans for the weekend as she preps the needle. it helps, the way she talks, easy and friendly, like this is just another part of someone’s day, not a huge step towards something life-changing. once the needle’s in and the vials start filling, you steal a glance at leah, who’s sitting patiently nearby, offering a quiet smile that steadies you more than she knows.

afterward, the doctor pops in for a quick check-in. she asks if you have any questions about the next steps, about the hormone tracking, the scans, what to expect in the coming weeks. you ask about side effects, timing, how they’ll know when the best window for implantation is.

she explains it clearly, patiently. “the blood tests show your hormone levels, especially AMH, which helps indicate your ovarian reserve. the scans will track follicles during your cycle to find the optimal time for egg retrieval or implantation,” she pauses, flicking through a file in her hands. “it’s a bit of a puzzle,” she continues with a smile, “but it’s why we do all this monitoring,  to make the process as smooth and successful as possible.”

you nod, grateful for the straightforwardness. leah squeezes your hand under the table as the doctor finishes up, her presence calm and constant. you leave the clinic with a little more confidence, armed with appointment dates, instructions, and a clearer picture of what lies ahead.

the following week you have your first ultrasound. 

you sit on the edge of the exam bed, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as the ultrasound technician enters with a friendly smile. “hi, i’m emma,” she says, “i’ll be doing your scan today. just so you know, it’ll be a transvaginal ultrasound. it’s the best way to get a clear picture of your ovaries and uterus. it can feel a bit uncomfortable, but it’s over quickly.”

leah squeezes your hand reassuringly. you nod, swallowing hard. “okay, thank you.”

emma pulls on gloves and applies cold gel, helping you lie back and get comfortable. as she begins, she talks you through what you’re seeing on the screen.

“so, here are your ovaries, you can see these small dark circles? those are follicles. we’re checking how many you have and their size. this helps us understand your ovarian reserve and how ready your ovaries are to respond to stimulation.”

you glance at the screen, trying to make sense of the blurry shapes. “is that normal?” you ask, pointing hesitantly.

emma smiles. “yes, those sizes are just right for this stage. everything looks healthy so far. your uterine lining is here — see how nice and thick it is? that’s important for implantation later.”

leah leans forward, curious. “how often do you monitor the follicles after this?”

“usually every few days once stimulation starts,” emma replies. “we’re tracking growth to time egg retrieval perfectly. if follicles aren’t developing as expected, we adjust meds.”

you take a breath, feeling a bit more at ease. “can you tell from this if there are any issues?”

emma shakes her head gently. “nothing obvious right now. sometimes things come up later, but this is a really good baseline.” the scan ends quickly, and emma wipes away the gel. the doctor steps in to review the images with you both.

“everything looks promising,” she says. “your ovaries are functioning normally, and your lining is ideal. we’ll start your hormone injections soon and keep close tabs on progress.”

leah leans over to brush a kiss across your temple, her voice low. “we’re doing this.”

you nod, a little overwhelmed but ready. “yeah. we are,” 

━━━━━━

the weeks that follow fly by in a dizzy blur. early mornings filled with carefully measured hormone injections, needle after needle, day after day, in the fridge, on the counter, in the bathroom. you learn the rhythms quickly, setting alarms, double-checking dosages, swallowing your nerves with every prick. leah’s always there, sometimes steadying your hand, sometimes just sitting close when you need to cry or rage at the unfairness of it all.

calls with doctors become a regular thing, updates on bloodwork, changes in medication, reminders about appointments. everything feels clinical but urgent, like you’re racing a clock that doesn’t stop ticking. your cycle tracking app lights up with notes and alarms, hormones rising and falling, highs and lows rippling through your body. mood swings hit without warning. one moment you’re hopeful and laughing; the next, you’re overwhelmed, teary, raw.

then comes the day of the egg retrieval. you’re groggy from sedation, but the ache afterward is sharp and real. leah’s voice is soft in your ear, reassuring but tired too.

in between all this, you sit with the donor profiles, faces, stories, medical histories, and the weight of choice presses down harder than you expected. there are moments you feel strong, ready to take it all on. but others when the hormones flood your system and you’re a mess, overstimulated, weepy over nothing, craving comfort and space all at once. time compresses and stretches. appointments, injections, scans, decisions. it’s relentless and through it all, leah stays your anchor. steady, patient, loving.

a few days after the retrieval, you’re back at the clinic, the tension almost physical as you wait for the call from the embryologist. leah’s beside you, fingers laced through yours, but you can barely breathe. you're both sat opposite your doctor, who is trying to make small talk from the other side of the desk as you await the call.  when the phone finally rings, the doctor’s voice is warm but businesslike.

“we retrieved twelve eggs. ten fertilised successfully. we’ll keep monitoring their growth over the next few days and let you know when they’re ready for transfer.”

you blink, the numbers swirling in your head, hope mixed with cautious optimism. 

the days after that are a blur of updates over the phone, embryos growing, splitting, some making it further than others. then, implantation.

you arrive at the clinic early, nerves buzzing under your skin. the procedure is quick, almost anticlimactic, but your heart pounds like it’s the most important thing you’ve ever done.

the doctor reminds you to take it easy, avoid strenuous activity, and keep stress low. the waiting begins. the two-week wait, the hardest part.

leah wraps you in quiet comfort, reminding you that no matter what, everything will be okay.  every twinge, every ache, every mood swing is magnified in your mind as you wait for that moment, that sign.

the two-week wait turns into its own kind of world.  one that exists just between the two of you. you don’t tell anyone. no texts to your best friend, no calls to leah’s mum, no vague hints to the people who might guess. it’s your secret. your maybe. and in some strange way, that makes it feel special. sacred.

there’s this hum of something soft and hopeful between you,  in the way leah kisses your shoulder before bed, the way she rubs your back absentmindedly while you brush your teeth, the way she leaves sticky notes on the fridge that say things like “growing team w.”

“what if it worked?” she whispers one night as you lie tangled in sheets and silence.

you smile into her collarbone. “then we get to tell everyone. but just us for now, yeah?”

“just us,” she echoes, pressing a kiss to your temple.

each day is a weird mix of hyper-awareness and pretending not to care. every twinge, every ache, every mood swing feels like a sign. but you don’t test early. you wait. just like they said. on the morning of day fourteen, your hands shake as you open the test. you sit on the edge of the tub, leah crouched in front of you in her hoodie, hair still messy from sleep, her thumb brushing lightly over your knee. you wait in silence.

and then… nothing. one line. not pregnant.

you don’t cry right away. just kind of sit there, blinking at it, heart heavy but quiet. like you’d already prepared for this exact outcome even if you didn’t want to believe it.

“okay,” you say, voice small. “okay.”

leah takes the test from your hand gently and sets it aside. pulls you into her lap like it’s instinct. holds you there until your breath hiccups and the first tear finally slips out.“we’re okay,” she whispers. “we’re gonna try again. we’re not done.” and even though it hurts, even though disappointment hangs thick in the air, you believe her.

the days after are kind of strange. you’re not exactly sad in the way you thought you’d be. not devastated or inconsolable. just.. flat. like someone pressed pause on everything inside you. your body feels like it’s been through something and your brain hasn’t quite caught up. the bloating, the soreness, the tiny bruises on your stomach from the injections,  still fading. evidence of all the effort, even though nothing came from it.

leah’s gentle with you in a way she doesn’t point out. no big speeches, no forced positivity. just warm tea without asking, her hand always finding yours under blankets, forehead kisses before bed like punctuation. you talk about it one night, two days later. half-wrapped in a duvet on the couch, takeaway between you, a rerun of some game on mute in the background.

“i thought i’d be more wrecked,” you admit, chewing on a bite of cold chip. “but i think i’m just... tired.”

leah nods. “you’re allowed to be. this whole thing’s a lot.”

you look over at her. “you still wanna keep going?”

she doesn’t hesitate. “course i do.” you let yourself believe that answer, lean into it a little. 

another few days pass before you call the clinic. it’s a short conversation,  they explain what comes next, when your period arrives, they’ll schedule your next baseline scan. adjustments to the medication, maybe. they’re hopeful. they remind you this is normal.

you hang up and say, quietly, “we’re on the list again.”

leah grins, soft but sure. “round two.”

━━━━━━

blood tests. scans. more injections. second round. retrieval day comes and goes again,  fewer eggs this time. you try not to let that sink in too deep.

implantation. wait. hope. test. negative.

you blink back tears, throw the test in the bin like you’re tossing away a stupid receipt. leah pulls you into her arms, doesn’t say much. there’s not really anything to say.

do it all again.

round three starts and you try to feel different this time, more grounded, more prepared. but your body aches before the shots even start. the bloating comes quicker, your moods crash harder. your skin feels tight over your bones. everything gets under your skin.

more bloods. more scans. another retrieval. fewer fertilised this time.

implantation.

leah kisses you tenderly before she leaves for international duty.

“i’ll be back before you test,” she says, brushing a hand over your stomach. “text me if you need me.”

you nod. but your throat’s too tight to answer. the wait feels longer this time. lonelier.

she sends photos from camp, teammates, training, hotel breakfasts. she means well. you heart them all, but don’t say much back.

you’re tired of waiting, of hoping. of pretending it still feels exciting.

you take the test alone. again.

negative. again.

you sit on the cold bathroom floor for longer than you need to. knees pulled to your chest. eyes fixed on the wall.

you still haven’t told anyone you’ve even started trying. not your friends. not your family. it was supposed to be your little secret, something sacred. now it just feels heavy.

you call leah, and she answers breathless, somewhere between the pitch and the gym.

you don’t say anything at first. then, just:

“it didn’t work.”

silence. then her soft, quiet, “shit. baby…”

your voice cracks. “i don’t know how many more times i can do this.”

and for the first time, she doesn’t rush in with solutions or promises. she just breathes with you. holds space through a phone line. and somehow, that’s enough. for now.

━━━━━━

you take things slower this time.

there’s no rush, no frantic energy like before. just small steps. quiet preparation. you go to your baseline scan and let the cold gel sit a little longer on your skin. you listen more closely when the nurse explains your hormone schedule. you ask questions this time,  real ones,  about timing, about statistics, about what your body’s been through and what it can still do.

leah’s there for every appointment, even the ones that don’t seem important. she’s gentler with you now. not careful like you’ll break, but present. solid. hers is the hand you hold when you get your blood drawn, the shoulder you lean on during the hour-long wait for the consultant, the voice in your ear telling you you’re brave even when you don’t feel it. you do the injections slower, too. no rushing in the bathroom before work. just quiet evenings with leah holding the ice pack to your thigh, reading the instructions out loud even though you both know them by heart. you still get bloated. still cry at adverts for nappies. still stare too long at the prams in shop windows. but it’s quieter now,  like grief and hope have learned how to sit beside each other.

one morning, while digging through a drawer for a clean hoodie, you find it. the tiny baby-grow. arsenal red. still folded, tags on. a stupid impulse buy after the first implantation, when you were still full of belief. you sit down on the edge of the bed and hold it to your chest. it smells like nothing. clean cotton. empty.

you cry, properly cry, for the first time in a while. not just for the thing you want, but for how badly you still want it. then you fold it back up, careful and slow. tuck it in the back of the drawer. hidden. safe.

just in case. you don’t tell leah. you keep going.

scans. bloods. retrieval day again.

you count eggs in your head while lying on the crinkly paper sheet.

you rest your hand over your belly and whisper something only you hear. “this time. maybe this time.” 

the two-week wait feels quieter this time. not softer, just quieter. like your body knows how to carry it now, you don’t talk about it much with leah. it’s there, unspoken, in everything,  the way she pulls you into her chest at night, the way she runs her hand over your back while you’re brushing your teeth, the way she makes sure you never take your vitamins alone. you both pretend to be casual about it. casual about everything. but sometimes you catch her staring at your stomach when she thinks you’re not looking, and sometimes she finds you sat in the hallway, just.. waiting. for what, you don’t even know.

you told yourself you’d wait until the full two weeks. no early testing. you swore you’d be patient this time.

but leah’s out running errands, twenty minutes she said, and suddenly you’re pacing the bathroom floor with a test in your hand and your heart in your throat.

you pee. wait.

you don’t even sit down. just stand in the doorway, arms crossed tight, watching it.

after three minutes, you glance. and you freeze. there. so faint you think maybe you’re imagining it. you tilt the test toward the light. it’s still there. a second line.

barely visible, like it’s made of shadow and hope and everything you’ve wanted for months. your hand flies to your mouth. you don’t cry, not yet, just stand there staring, like it might vanish if you breathe too loud. your chest feels too small. your legs go a little shaky. you grab your phone, snap a picture of the test in case it disappears by the time leah gets back.

and then you just, sit. on the edge of the tub. holding the test in both hands like it’s made of glass. it’s not certain. it’s not strong. it’s not official. but it’s something, and you tell yourself you won’t test again. but the next morning, before leah wakes, you’re back in the bathroom. sitting on the closed toilet lid, cold floor against your feet, heart thudding too loud. another test, you watch it like it’s a magic trick and there it is; again. the second line. a whisper stronger than yesterday.

you bite your lip so hard it stings. you don’t tell leah. not yet.

you slip back into bed like nothing happened. press your face into her back. let her warmth steady your breathing.

day 9. test number three. darker.

day 10. you save the wrapper this time, place the test gently on a tissue like it’s delicate, precious. you line it up next to the others you’ve hidden behind the cleaning products under the sink.

day 11, 12, 13. the lines are real now. clear. undeniable.

your hands still shake every morning. your heart still stutters every time it appears. but you don’t cry. you don’t jump to conclusions. you just keep going. like you're scared speaking it aloud will undo the spell. sometimes you stare at the row of tests like they’re part of some secret language only you can read. proof you’ve been carrying alone, too scared to share it, too afraid it might vanish. you rehearse the words in your head. think about how you’ll tell her. how you’ll say, “i think it worked.” or, “we’re really doing this.” but they never make it out of your mouth, and you wait. day fourteen is tomorrow. you decide that’s when you’ll show her everything, because the line is dark now. dark and steady and real.

━━━━━━

day fourteen begins before the sun rises. you wake to the soft hush of the house, the sky outside still painted in dark blues and muted greys. leah is asleep beside you, her breathing slow and even, one hand tucked under her cheek. you lie there for a moment, just watching her. the curve of her back, the little line between her brows even in sleep. you almost stay. almost let yourself drift back down. but the weight in your chest is too loud now, too full. you need to know. even though, deep down, you already do.

you slip out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb her, and pad barefoot down the hallway. the test is already waiting on the bathroom counter. the last of the pack, tucked behind the mirror where she wouldn’t see. your fingers tremble as you unwrap it, heart pounding harder with every second. the process is so familiar by now it’s almost mechanical: test, wait, watch. but this time feels different.

you crouch on the cold tile floor, arms wrapped tightly around your knees, eyes fixed on the little window as the control line appears almost instantly.

and then the second one. clear. steady. bold. your breath catches in your throat. you close your eyes for a moment, trying to steady yourself. but the tears come anyway. not the panicked kind you’ve cried through before. this time, it’s different. softer. quieter. like the kind of crying your body does when it finally allows itself to hope.

you wipe your cheeks with your sleeve and reach into the drawer beneath the sink. hidden under a stack of clean towels is the baby-grow. the tiny, red arsenal onesie you bought after the very first round. the one you folded away when things started falling apart. the one you couldn’t bring yourself to throw out. you smooth it gently across the counter and line the pregnancy tests beside it. all eight of them, fanned out like pages in a story only you’ve been reading.

you stand back and stare at the little display. it looks almost sacred. private and precious, full of waiting and want and weeks of pain. you take a shaky breath, touch the sleeve of the baby-grow once more, snap a secret picture with your phone and then slip out of the bathroom.

downstairs, the kitchen is still dark, the early light just beginning to stretch through the windows. you make coffee slowly, the routine grounding you. kettle on, mugs out, sugar stirred absentmindedly. your hands are still trembling when you wrap them around the warm ceramic. you sit at the table and wait. upstairs, there’s the sound of the bed creaking. the floorboards creak a little too, then silence again. then, the soft click of the bathroom door.

you don’t move. you just close your eyes and take a deep breath, counting your heartbeats like they might keep you still. she doesn’t call your name. doesn’t ask. instead, you hear the slow steps down the stairs, and then she’s there- standing in the kitchen doorway.

she looks like she’s been crying. the baby-grow is clutched in her hand, the other holding the most recent test like she needs it to ground herself.

her voice is hoarse when she finally speaks. “are you serious?”

you nod, your own throat tight, eyes blurring again. “i didn’t want to tell you until i was sure.”

she crosses the room in seconds and drops to her knees in front of you, wrapping her arms around your waist, pressing her face into the soft of your stomach. you cradle her there, fingers tangled in her hair, both of you holding onto this fragile, enormous moment.

“we’re really doing this,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“yeah,” you say, smiling through your tears, “we are.”

and for the first time in months, it doesn’t feel like a maybe. it feels real.

[thaleleah]

Hi, babes! Responding to this months later.... I'm so sorry 😭 I hope you're still around and doing okay? How are things with you?

TAL MY LOVE YOU'RE BACK 🩷 GIRL I'VE MISSED YOU SOOOO MUCH!!!

I'm doing really good! I've actually been planning on opening a shop on etsy and selling homemade resin art and charms! Hopefully it's something I will stick to in the end. But for now, I just need to practice my skills for it. So I'm pretty excited for that 🥰

I'm okay for now. People are so stressful and that just about sums up my last few months lol. I'm considering going back to school to get a Masters degree which is super scary but also a little exciting?? I feel like throwing up when I think of having to pay for it though.

I'm really glad you're doing good 🩷 you take as much time as you need. I always say mental health comes first! And if you need someone to talk to you in private, just let me know and I'll message you on here 🩷

Girlll I am so happy for you!!! You go and get that Masters degree babe. Don't even be scared. You got this! And don't stress about the money. For now, just take it day by day!

What are you studying? 🥰 I just got my Bachelors in Biology last year!

Godless Part 3 is in the works! It's almost done I think. I wrote this chapter non-linearly so now I'm trying to fit everything together and make the transitions make sense. I'm a little worried that I lost Nun's voice since its been a while since I've gotten to write so I might have to reread the last two parts to make sure it flows but tbd lol. I don't want to give a deadline I can't stick to, but I'm hoping I can have it out within a week🤞🏻

I've missed Billy and our Nun 😭 But you take your time with part 3. Don't rush yourself. And I cannot wait to read it once it's out 🥰

Missed you lots!

I missed you more girl 😭 I'm so happy to finally have you back 🩷

How's life going in the Avatar fandom? 🥰

And girl... that new still of Tom Blyth in Wasteman... 👀🥵🫠 like come on and fuck noncon me hard till I can't walk for days. I just want to get on my knees and service him!

Once this movie is out. You and I are gonna probably talk about it for maybe a year 😂

- 🍯🐝

TAL MY LOVE YOU'RE BACK 🩷 GIRL I'VE MISSED YOU SOOOO MUCH!!!

YOU’RE STILL HERE THANK GOD 🧡 I missed you so much too

I'm doing really good! I've actually been planning on opening a shop on etsy and selling homemade resin art and charms! Hopefully it's something I will stick to in the end. But for now, I just need to practice my skills for it. So I'm pretty excited for that 🥰

Hell yes, baby!! You should def open an Etsy shop! Have you been making stuff for a while now or is this a new craft? Whenever you open your shop, make sure to send me the link so I can support!

I'm really glad you're doing good 🩷 you take as much time as you need. I always say mental health comes first! And if you need someone to talk to you in private, just let me know and I'll message you on here 🩷

Thank you, hun 🧡 Mental health really does come first. And same for you too! You are always welcome to DM me anytime about anything. My messages are open for you.

What are you studying? 🥰 I just got my Bachelors in Biology last year!

Congrats on the Bachelors! That's a huge achievement! I got my Bachelors in English and now I'm hoping to get my Master of Library and Information Studies. I'm hoping to find work as a librarian or something similar.

I've missed Billy and our Nun 😭 But you take your time with part 3. Don't rush yourself. And I cannot wait to read it once it's out 🥰

I shall! I think its so close to being done so I'm getting excited lol

How's life going in the Avatar fandom? 🥰

It's going. A lot of people are inactive right now both because of the lull of content and how far off we still are for when A3 comes out but also because of some drama that went on a few months ago. It made a lot of people nervous to be active and honestly i dont blame them. I tried to be a little active recently on my other blog but I'm feeling like I might just have to call a small break for a while which makes me sad cause I love the fandom so much but bruhhhhhh it got so toxic so fast for no reason.

And girl... that new still of Tom Blyth in Wasteman... 👀🥵🫠 like come on and fuck noncon me hard till I can't walk for days. I just want to get on my knees and service him! Once this movie is out. You and I are gonna probably talk about it for maybe a year 😂

The way I'm gonna be insufferable when this movie comes out 😩 I need this man to completely destroy my pussy me. The things I want him to do to me??? Omg yes I will probs have to write about it lollllllll SO please pray that life calms the fuck down so I can get out all the smutty dark and delicious fics that should make me question my sanity but instead make me hehehehe 😂

We have porn to read, Universe! Get your priorities straight!

[wiypt-writes]

Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

A Frank Adler One Shot.

Summary: It’s Frank’s wedding night… but you’re not quite ready to let him go just yet.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+) allusions to cheating…

Pairings:  Frank Adler x Reader

A/N: Just a little smutty one shot featuring everyone’s favourite Dirty Boat Daddy. Written for @onlyjamesbarnes 1.5k Follower Challenge. Prompt in bold. Congrats babe!!

Lyrics from Fall Out Boy- Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

Frank Adler Master list // Main Masterlist

❤️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔

I'm gonna make you bend and break,

Say a prayer, but let the good times roll

In case God doesn't show…

Frank had always been powerless to resist you. He was a moth to your flame, but like always, you play with fire and you get burnt.

But now, you were the one burning, burning hotter than the sun.

With a groan, you ground your hips down as you leaned back, rolling and rocking down onto him. That face, sharp chiselled jawline covered by a slightly nearer than usual scruff looked back at you, his perfect profile silhouetted against the moonlight which drifted through the curtains of the hotel room.

How could something that wrong feel so fucking right?

And I want these words to make things right, But it's the wrongs that make the words come to life.

"Who does he think he is?"

If that's the worst you've got, better put your fingers back to the keys

He shouldn’t have let you in, but you knew he would as soon as he fired you the message with his room number. Your signature knock had sounded across the plush suite he was spending his last night as a ‘single’ man in, and like a sacrificial lamb welcoming its slaughter, he’d opened the door.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wanted to see you.” You blinked up at him. He was still in his slacks and dress shirt, from the rehearsal you’d sat through, tie discarded, collar open. He cut a stark contrast to the boat greased and oil stained, salty air cured man you were used to.

He held the door open for you, stepping back and allowing you in. Without a word you walked over to the grand windows the space provided, offering a look at the shoreline outside and below. The view was breathtaking at night, the moonlight shining off the waves as they lapped at the shore, mere metres away from where tomorrow he would take his vows.

Through the reflection of the window behind you, you could see him just as his hands gripped at your waist. You turned on the ball of your foot, manicured fingers running up his chest from his strong pecs to his collarbones and over his shoulders to around his neck, your lips quickly on his. Your tongue slipped inside, tasting a hint of scotch, a half drunk glass of which sat on the small coffee table to the right. Frank moaned against your mouth while your fingers slipped through the neatly trimmed hair of his neck.

You pushed against him slightly with your body, the back of his legs hitting the chair besides the coffee table and he took a seat, breaking your kiss.

“This shouldn’t-“

“Shhh.” You shook your head. “Just give me tonight, please.”

He stared at you with lust blown eyes, different to the playful glint he normally possessed when he used to look at you, as you thought for a second about your next move, bottom lip already swollen from his kiss between your teeth.

You knew he was a goner.

"Y/N," he managed to croak out as you straddled his lap, seating yourself over his now hard cock, the rough fabric of his dark dress pants constraining him, giving you just enough teasing friction agasint your sensitive inner thighs. His large hands slid up your thighs and under your light coloured, flowy dress as you moved your lips over his again, giving him access to your ass, finger tips grazing the barely there material of your panties.

You ground down against him, your hips rolling in a circular motion as he growled into your mouth, squeezing your cheeks with his hands. You kicked off your sandals, making a thud as they hit the plush carpet. A sound that matched that of your heart. A heart that squeezed in your chest, as if someone had wound and elastic band around its middle knowing that tomorrow you’d watch him takes his vows.

And everything would change.

Frank broke away from your lips, to lick and nip at your jaw and down your neck, tongue rolling against your sternum. His face drilled between your breasts, inhaling your scent.

Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt and plucked them open skillfully, French manicured nails raking across his chest, causing him to shudder and groan. You reached for the buckle of his belt, undoing it with little trouble, lifting your hips slightly, showing a strength in your thighs as you lifted away from him, to undo his flies. You adjusted yourself, pushing up on your knees just a little to allow the room you needed to dip your hand just under his boxers waistline, gently gripping at his dick.

“No, not here.” He growled, teeth nipping at the shell of your ear. “I want you in the bed.”

The bed. Where he would spend his first night as a married man.

It was so wrong.

Yet you happily obliged.

It was a well practiced tango the pair of you had danced over the years, and now here you were, him keening underneath you with a desperation you’d come to know well.

You could feel his cock pulsing against your walls and it gave you the chills. You held the power and control as he struggled to keep his.

With a quick movement, Frank sat up, pulling you flush against his chest, the angle hitting you just at that pleasurable spot he always managed to hit within you. His head dropped, lips and teeth gently teasing your nipple, large hands splayed agains your spine as he lavished you with affection.

You started grinding down harder, looking for that clitoral stimulation you wanted and as you found it, he moaned deeply into your ear.

“I’m close, but I don’t wanna… not yet.” His words were a plea, a plea that he wasn’t ready to end, and you knew he didn’t simply mean tonight.

But it had to. There was no way around it.

One night and one more time, thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great

"He tastes like you only sweeter"

"Just...let...go," you purred against him.

"Oh fahk," he ground out as his feet planted firmly into the mattress and his hips thrust upward. It didn't take much, a few strong and hard drives and you were crying out his name, your head thrown back in ecstasy as you came around around him.

"Jesus, fahkk, I'm gonna fahking.... Oh fahk," he swore vehemently, his old Boston drawl thick as he drove hard into you for a final time, exploding his load deep into you, spraying your walls with ribbons of white cream.

The pair of you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent. Frank kept you held to his chest as you both drew ragged, heaving breaths. After a moment, Frank pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, no words needed.

And you blinked back a solitary tear.

*****

I'm looking forward to the future, but my eyesight is going bad.

And this crystal ball, it’s always cloudy except for when you look into the past

One night stand

Frank had fallen asleep with you in his arms, not quite ready to let you go. But you were long gone by the time he woke the next morning, the only evidence you’d been in his room was a scribbled note on the pad on the night stand.

“Here’s to the first day of the rest of your life.”

He’d folded the note up and slipped it into his breast pocket, not quite sure why. Maybe it would keep you close to him in those moments he needed to feel you, who knows.

Who knows why any of this had started in the first place.

He watched Mary walk down the aisle first, her bouquet in her hand had been dropped as she had leapt into his arms for a hug, laughing as she told him how excited she was. He’d kissed her cheek and placed her down and she stood by his side, watching as his bride and her father started towards him.

It was then Frank’s eyes had found yours as you watched him, and he swallowed, his chest contracting.

He could still feel your eyes on him and he couldn’t get the image of you bouncing on top of his cock out of his head. He blinked as someone said his name, and he looked at the officiant, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, little nervous.” He apologised, flashing a cheeky grin before he took a deep breath.

A couple of I-Dos later, he was told to kiss his wife. So he did.

And all he could taste was you.

Man and wife walked hand in hand down the aisle to applause, and at the end they stopped and the new Mrs Adler peered up at Frank, a soft smile on her face.

“You happy?”

“Of course.” He smiled back.

“Good, because choosing me to spend your life with, well, I actually think it’s the second best choice you’ve ever made in your life.”

Frank blinked as he heard the click of the photographer's camera. “Oh? The second? What was the first?”

“Letting me into your room last night.” You grinned, your hand sliding up his tux, the diamond studded band catching the sun, glinting in the bright light.

Frank grinned at you, before he arched his eyebrow. “Time will tell if it really was bad luck to see my wife the night before.”

“Didn’t feel like bad luck to me,” you smirked, you hand gently tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as he dropped his head to kiss you, the cheers and applause once more chiming in your ears.

One night and one more time, thanks for the memories

[havenoffandoms]

Hey congrats on 900 followers! Would I be able to request the touch starved prompt from your list with the pairing Aiden/Lambert please? Love all your writing!

Hello!! Thanks for requesting this prompt and this pairing! I’ve been on a right Lambden kick recently, so I felt inspired. I hope you like it! 

Prompt 13: Touch-Starved

Pairing: Aiden x Lambert

Warnings: None

Prompt List

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together. Being stabbed to death in his sleep comes to mind, or having Aiden go all batshit crazy if Lambert dared to beat him at Gwent. Lambert has heard many rumours about Cat witchers in his long life. Cats are batshit crazy. Cats are emotionally volatile. Cats are backstabbing sons of bitches… literally and metaphorically. Cats are bad. Cats are evil, etc, etc. All these rumours circulated in Kaer Morhen long before Lambert even set foot in that ramshackle castle. He was too young to have witnessed the Tournament, but he heard the older witchers talk. Later in his life, when only a handful of wolf witchers were left after the sacking, Eskel gave Lambert a more detailed account of the Tournament.

“The Cats betrayed us, went on a rampage. Killed many wolf witchers in the process. Geralt and I lost many friends that day,” Eskel told him one evening, when the oldest surviving wolf was too far in his cup to notice that he was oversharing. “Radowit’s court mage Astrogarus promised the Cats monopoly on killing monsters within Kaedwen in exchange for attacking the Wolves during the tournament. Turns out Radowit was a backstabbing motherfucker himself. He ordered his soldiers to shoot all of the remaining witchers of both schools in the arena.”

“Lemme guess,” Lambert spoke, his own speech slightly slurred, “pretty boy saved the day?” 

Eskel shook his head. “Fled. Mousesack helped him escape the massacre. Poor bastard never forgave himself for abandonin’ our brothers, but what choice did he have?”

Don’t get Lambert wrong. He’s not saying that Aiden is harmless, far from it. The guy’s lethal with his swords, deadly with a pair of daggers, not to mention a stealthy and clever thief. Aiden is mercurial, hot-tempered and a bit feral when he wants to be, and his morals are at best dubious. Whereas wolf witchers had their emotions beaten out of them at a young age, cat witchers feel too much, too strongly. Lambert’s witnessed Aiden flip tables when peasants beat him at Gwent, but he’s also witnessed the Cat shed a tear after bringing the news to a mother that her son did not survive the ghoul attack two villages down the road. 

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but the Cat had never ceased to surprise him. The most unexpected trait Aiden has displayed to date is his insatiable need for physical contact. It’s not like Lambert hates being touched - he’s only human, albeit a mutated one, but still human. He enjoys a hug as much as the next person, especially when said hug comes from one of his brothers (or, dare he say, Vesemir) at the end of a long and difficult year on the Path. Lambert has also never begrudged a bed partner a post-coital cuddle session. Aiden’s need for physical contact is… on a whole different level. 

The first time it happened, Lambert almost shoved the Cat off him and sent him packing, until he realised that Aiden was not only hugging him, but clinging onto him. His sharp nails were digging in the soft material of Lambert’s shirt, the fabric creaking in protest under the firm grip. When Lambert looked down, he noticed the pinched eyebrows and tears trailing down Aiden’s face. It wasn’t until a broken sob pushed past the Cat’s lips that Lambert reluctantly returned the embrace, arms wound tightly around Aiden’s trembling body. Aiden eventually settled in the safety of Lambert’s arms, his features softening as he sank back into a peaceful slumber. 

Neither mentioned the previous evening’s impromptu cuddling session, but from that moment one, it was like someone had flicked a switch. Aiden came up with every possible fucking excuse to touch Lambert. Their hands would always accidentally graze each other when they packed up camp, or tacked up the horses. Aiden would bump shoulders with him when they were travelling on foot. If they sat next to one another in a tavern, Aiden would press his leg against Lambert’s, and if they were facing each other, a tentative foot would gently nudge Lambert’s shin and linger there. It’s not like Aiden was trying to hide his intentions, either. They rarely paid for two rooms anymore, because even if they did, Aiden would always end up in Lambert’s bed anyway, arms wound around Lambert’s body like a koala clinging to its mother.

Lambert doesn’t hate Aiden’s need for physical proximity, he’s just… confused by it. Aiden rarely takes any lovers to bed, even though he clearly craves physical intimacy. Lambert is more than happy to cuddle with Aiden, especially when they are forced to sleep under the stars and the early autumn frosts begin to settle over the region. It saves them from lighting a campfire, which may attract the wrong kind of attention to them. That’s all that’s ever transpired between the two, though… cuddling. Lambert enjoys the cuddling as much as Aiden does, but for Aiden it seems to be about more than mere enjoyment. The Cat simply refuses to go without physical intimacy which at times can be… alright, it can feel overbearing, but Lambert’s not about to complain, not when most humans turn away from him in disgust and contempt when he tries to chat them up. 

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aiden almost develops a form of separation anxiety. He refuses to let Lambert out of his sight, going so far as to follow the man everywhere, and that’s the moment when Lambert snaps. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asks, his tone hiding none of the irritation he feels at being tailed by this overgrown tomcat. Aiden stops dead in his tracks, his eyes growing wide at Lambert’s words. 

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been following me since this morning… I have errands to run and it’s hard to do that when you’re breathing down my neck!”

Lambert instantly regrets his words the minute they leave his mouth. Aiden’s shoulders visibly sag at Lambert’s comment, his content expression melting into something sadder and the sight tugs at the wolf’s heartstrings in all the wrong ways. Aiden averts Lambert’s eyes shyly, the tip of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink as embarrassment washes over him. Lambert heaves a sigh. Way to act like a fucking dick. 

“Sorry, Aiden. I… I didn’t mean to sound like an ass, but-”

“It’s alright, I… I knew this moment would come eventually.”

“What are you talking about?” Lambert asks, a confused frown etched on his face. Aiden doesn’t look at him when he replies in a voice far too small to belong to the lethal, cocky witcher Lambert has come to know over the past few months. 

“You’re gonna ask me to leave for good. I get it. I… I’ll go back to the room and pack my things.” 

As Aiden turns around to leave, Lambert’s hand shoots out and grabs a hold of Aiden’s wrist. Before Lambert’s brain has a chance to catch up, he finds himself pulling Aiden into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes of judgemental humans meandering the stalls of the midweek market. Aiden looks so unsure now, so vulnerable like this, and it makes Lambert want to wrap the Cat up in warm blankets and cuddle him and forget the world for a while. Instead, he settles on pressing Aiden’s back against the wall and draping himself around the Cat witcher as much as he can. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Lambert breathes in the air pocket between them as he locks eyes with Aiden, “you’ve just been… especially clingy recently. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Aiden averts his eyes once again, but Lambert is quick to grip the other man’s chin and force Aiden to meet his gaze. Even that simple touch pulls a small hiss from Aiden, whose eyes flutter shut as he relishes in the feeling of Lambert touching him anywhere. Lambert purses his lips, eager for an answer. 

“Aiden-”

“Winter is around the corner,” Aiden whispers, his tongue darting out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Lambert’s frown deepens. 

“And?”

His question is met with a pointed eye roll from Aiden. 

“And… wolves return to their dens for winter, don’t they? I was just… enjoying the last few weeks in your company before you leave and never come back.”

As the final piece of the puzzle slots into place, understanding dawns on Lambert. He pulls away from Aiden and the small whimper the loss of contact triggers does not go unnoticed. Something old and fragile aches in Lambert’s chest as the meaning of Aiden’s words sink in. Aiden isn’t just worried about being separated from Lambert for a few months, but he’s worried that Lambert will never come back.The wolf links his fingers with his Cat’s, squeezing softly as he leans into Aiden’s space and rubs his bearded cheek against Aiden’s jawline. The latter quickly melts under the soft ministrations, the soft content rumble deepening into a continuous purr as Lambert nuzzles the crook of Aiden’s neck. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” 

“Yeah, right,” Aiden snorts in response, “cause you’re so good with feelings and shit.”

“Not everyone’s a sappy sentimental bitch like you are,” Lambert teases gently, earning himself a half-hearted slap up the back of the head. “I don’t have to go back to Kaer Morhen this winter.”

Aiden tenses, his soft purring stopping abruptly as he takes in Lambert’s words. Lambert continues to rub his cheek against Aiden’s jaw, his neck, his cheek… wherever he can reach, the action meant to soothe the brewing storm in Aiden’s mind.

“It’s your home,” Aiden offers weakly, “I don’t want… I… it’s your home.” 

“I can send a letter to the old man. Let him know I’m alive. We could find a den somewhere else… an attic somewhere, or an abandoned castle.” Lambert nuzzles the spot right behind Aiden’s ear, earning a pleased hum from the Cat. “Or you could come with me.”

“Sure. Cause that’s gonna end well…” 

“That’s settled then. I’m spending winter with you.”

Aiden pushes Lambert away, their eyes meeting once again but this time, Aiden searches for any trace of a lie in Lambert’s amber gaze. He finds none, because Lambert is one hundred percent honest in his offer. He would ditch Vesemir, Geralt and Eskel for a year to spend it with Aiden… and the thought should scare him more than it does, truthfully. He’s only known the Cat for a few months, and yet… well, maybe Lambert was dreading the winter as well. How about that? It’s not like he felt equally anxious about leaving Aiden, it’s just… fuck off. 

“You mean that?” 

“Mhm. Fair warning… I hate the cold. If I’m spending the winter with you, you’ll have to find a way to keep me warm or I will bite your head off.” 

In Aiden’s defence, he does keep Lambert warm all winter long. Their cuddling finally turns into something more, and from the moment Lambert and Aiden cross that fateful line there is no going back. Aiden becomes insatiable, always seeking Lambert’s body in some shape or form, never letting the wolf out of his sight again.  Lambert may have been apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but it turns out that all his worries were for nothing. Turns out Cat witchers are still crazy, and feral, and mercurial… a tad possessive as well, something Lambert doesn’t hate... but they’re also the cuddliest sons of bitches on the Continent. 

Lambert can live with that, he thinks. 

Request a prompt.

[andypantsx3]

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.” + Hawks + If you can include at least a hint of NSFW, it'd be great and congrats on your 1st anniversary!

Thank you love!! I hope you like it.

Honest | Hawks/Reader

Prompt: “You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.” Word Count: 1150 words Tags/Warnings: established relationship, NSFW Notes: Thank you @bobawithpomegranate for beta reading!!

Keigo thought you didn’t know about it.

You’d only done it once before, accidentally, and you were so inexorably tangled up in the throes of passion that you’d almost—almost—missed it. The moment your fingers caught in the little feathers right at the base of his wings, and he’d groaned into your mouth, a little shudder shivering its way down his whole body, for a second he’d pressed himself against you twice as hard, kissed you twice as passionately, before he let out a sharp breath and was in control again.

The entire thing had lasted less than a second, and you were so close to your climax that you had been a little too busy to explore it any further. Keigo hadn’t acknowledged it, either, hadn’t given any direction like “fuck, baby, right there,” or “do it again.” In fact, he had seemed like he was fighting his reaction down, determined to ignore it.

But you had noticed, and you stored that knowledge away to think on.

It wasn’t like Keigo to hide things from you, not anymore. Though it wasn’t unlike him to reshape and remold himself to fit a situation, to ignore his own wants and desires in order to put everyone else first. Keigo had spent so many years in the service of others that, sometimes, you thought he forgot that he was a person with needs of his own.

The more you thought on it, the more likely you thought it was that Keigo had liked it so much that he’d lost control of himself for a moment—had forgotten to be Hawks, the hero, or Keigo, your attentive boyfriend of several months, and had chased his wild pleasure without putting yours first.

It was enough to make you want to roll your eyes. Like there could be anything that could possibly turn you off about Keigo losing it over something you did.

So you plotted and waited, resolving to get to the bottom of things.

And then, one evening after another of Keigo’s long patrols, you pounced.

You’d dragged him into bed before he’d even made it all the way through the door, catching his surprised noise in your mouth.

“Well hello to you too, sweetheart,” he purred once he’d finally gotten a handle on things. His hands slid up the sides of your shirt, calloused and warm.

“Take your jacket off,” you complained, shoving at his flight suit. He laughed, pulling it off without disconnecting his mouth from yours. His movements sent a puff of his scent your way—fresh like the outdoors, all cold wind and clear air.

“Missed me this much, chickadee?” he asked as you made short work of his pants.

“—always miss you,” you admitted. Which was true. With his crazy schedule, it was hard to get him alone, which made it all the more important that he spent his time with you actually getting what he wanted, being honest about what he wanted.

You tugged him over you, already feeling the swell of his interest hard against your thigh. Those calloused fingers slid down into your underwear, which you hadn’t bothered to cover with pants, for the purposes of easy access. You muffled a gasp against his mouth when he pressed against you, exactly where you wanted him.

Keigo worked you up embarrassingly fast, the way he did everything. Golden eyes fixed rapturously to your face, watching your every reaction with an almost inhuman alertness, and his skillful fingers reacted in kind, playing you with familiar dexterity. He was so, so good—so horribly, distractingly talented—that you almost forgot exactly what it was that you had planned to accomplish.

Almost.

Just as Keigo was working your underwear off you and pressing himself inside, movements slow and controlled, your hand skimmed the sleek muscles of his back. Your fingers tangled in the tiny feathers at the base of his wings, soft and downy.

And then you gave a tug.

Keigo’s hips slammed forward, burying himself in you up to the hilt. He groaned.

“F-fuck, sorry baby,” he said, pulling back, looking slightly dazed. “Must have got excited.”

You eyed him, watching him try to scrape his features back into some semblance of control.

And then you tugged again.

He bucked into you again, swearing as he slammed an arm down next to your head for balance.

His golden eyes were wide when they found yours, and not just with shock. His expression was darker, hungry in a way you’d never seen before.

“Wha—what are you doing?” he asked, sounding pained.

You stared back at him evenly. “So I was right. You like this, Keigo. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Keigo watched you back, those eyes unreadable. “I don’t—I didn’t want to—I can’t think when you do that, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you. I might get too rough.”

His words sent a little shiver down your spine.

Keigo was hot as fuck when he was deliberate with you, controlled and gentle, working you up into an incoherent, begging mess while he stayed calm and in control.

But the idea of him losing it, getting rough with you for once was...appealing. Very appealing.

“Keigo, safe words were invented for a reason,” you said, petting softly down his back. His wings flapped minutely, a little aimlessly like they did when he was feeling overwhelmed. 

He was silent for a long moment.

You sighed. “Kei, you have the most self control of any person in the entire world. If I ask you to stop, you’ll stop. But I don’t know that I’ll want you to. The idea of you losing it while you’re with me—only me—is literally the hottest thing I can think of.”

Keigo’s hips shifted a little, reminding you that he was still pressed firmly inside you. Your hips bucked up without input from your brain.

“If I—if we do this, you have to promise you’ll tell me when it’s too much,” he said finally.

You nodded quickly, already reaching back for those feathers. 

Keigo gave you a pointed look, prompting you to say, “Kei, if you don’t fuck me within an inch of my life I’m throwing you out and doing it myself.”

And then you grabbed those soft feathers again, and pulled hard.

Keigo swore, collapsing against you even as his hips slammed into yours again. A sharp pain on the side of your neck told you he’d bit down, hard, and it sent a wild swirl of stinging desire to your core. 

You smirked, but before you could pull again, two long red feathers were sweeping up your arms, gathering up your wrists. A hot spike of arousal pooled in your abdomen, and you squirmed in anticipation as your wrists were pinned firmly above your head—this was new.

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart,” Keigo promised darkly, bracing an arm beside your head.

You laughed. 

Oh, you sincerely doubted that.

[buckyownsmylife]

Oh, well, imagine - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy gets tired of living a double life 

Word count: 2K<

Warnings: smut, sugar relationship, infidelity (reader is the other woman), daddy kink, breeding kink, dubcon because Andy does stuff without getting reader’s consent beforehand, unprotected sex.

A/N: this was written for @donutloverxo​‘s #sugary4kchallenge! I took the opportunity to write something in the same universe as my first Andy fic, I write sins not tragedies, but this could be read by itself. Congrats on 4k, sweetheart!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The sound of the door being slammed startled me, almost making me drop the dishes I’d been washing. My eyebrows furrowed, confused and worried about what was going on. Only Andy had the key to the apartment, so I wasn’t curious as to who it was, just what had him behaving that way. In all the time we’d known each other, I’d never once seen him angry.

Still, when he appeared by the kitchen, it was clear that was the case. His chest heaved with the simple task of breathing, and when his eyes fell on me, they seemed darker. I almost felt scared - I probably would, if I didn’t trust him so much.

“Andy?” I asked, but he immediately shook his head.

“Not what you call me, princess.” Automatically, I stood up straighter, body electrified by the meaning behind his words. I knew what he wanted, even if it was clearly that more than desire. He needed this.

“Daddy.” He nodded once, clearly pleased at my acknowledgment. But there was still so much I needed to understand. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Instead of answering, he just kept staring at me long and hard, making me feel small and naked under his attention.

“Come here.”

My legs obeyed instantly, having been trained long enough to do exactly what he said without having to think about it. “Good girl.” The compliment was like some pavlovian buzzer to my poor cunt. I could feel the fabric of my underwear begin to uncomfortably stick to my lower lips, and I shifted from one leg to the other as I waited for further instructions.

“Daddy needs you tonight,” he finally began explaining, a single finger running under my jaw to make sure I’d keep our eyes connected. “Will you let me do whatever I want to you and this body?”

The perspective excited me, and I didn’t know if I was stupid for it, but I found myself nodding anyway. At the end of the day, I trusted Andy with my life. I knew he wouldn’t push me further than I could take it, and if he ever came close to it, I always had my safeword.

“Yes, Daddy.” He rewarded me with a kiss, but it wasn’t a soft one. His tongue invaded my mouth and before I could even realize what I was doing, I had to find a hold on his shirt, standing on my tippy toes just so I wouldn’t completely tip over.

“Are you excited to help daddy?” He asked, fingers already making quick work of my clothes as I trembled with excitement in his hold. He looked feverish, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, his mouth nipping and sucking and biting every inch of skin he could find.

“Yes, Daddy,” I repeated, forever his subservient servant, knowing that aiding him would bring me to pleasures I’d never known before we’d met. I watched as he licked his lips, taking in my naked body before his, the kitchen a mess of my discarded clothes and abandoned dinner, but instead of taking off his clothes, his hands went directly to his belt.

“Lay back on the floor.” It took me a full second to understand what he was saying, but thankfully he didn’t read it as hesitation. Instead, despite his eager state, he watched as I slowly lowered myself to the cold marble, stopping once I was on my knees to make sure of what he really wanted.

“Lay back,” he repeated, nodding towards me, and despite my confusion, I did as he said, gasping once my naked back met the icy stone. My nipples hardened against the air of the silent apartment and under his gaze, and I gasped when he knelt before me, hands reaching out for my thighs as he pulled me even closer.

“So, so beautiful,” he moaned, and I watched stunned as he lowered himself until he was eye-level with my navel, and I felt more than saw as his tongue stuck out and collected the wetness that was already threatening to drip from me. “And mine, all mine.”

The first time he’d said that, there was a conversation to be held right after we both came back from our highs. I needed to make sure that he remembered what this was, and he laughed when I tried to phrase it as sweetly as possible.

“I know this isn’t conventional,” he’d said, “but as long as it lasts, you’re mine. In and out of this apartment, but especially in this bed.” It didn’t take too long to realize that he was right.

I truly was his. My body responded to him in a way it’d never reacted to anyone else before. And I knew that whenever this little affair of ours came to an end, he would still forever own parts of me I’d never even realized I had before we met.

Andy’s P.O.V.

My mind was becoming hazier by the second. I needed to make sure she understood what was going to happen before I completely lost it. But first, I knew I’d hate myself if I didn’t take advantage of the delicious meal laid bare before me.

“Daddy!” She screamed, fingers curling around my strands as I lapped her up, rubbing my bearded jaw on the apex of her thighs. She was everything. I had never wanted anyone the way that I wanted her. And I knew that I never would again.

It was why I couldn’t lose her.

Connecting our eyes, I pushed two fingers inside of her and immediately curled them as I searched for that sweet spot I’d memorized so many months before, knowing I’d struck gold when she cried out for me again.

“Yeah, baby… I know you like that, sweet girl. So sweet for me, aren’t you?” I knew she wouldn’t be able to answer, and I didn’t mind. I could barely speak myself. The need to have her was just too strong, and so I kept licking her pussy and fucking it with my fingers until I felt her clench around my digits, not even waiting for her to calm down as I immediately raised to my knees and worked on releasing my member from its confines.

“Better get ready, princess… I won’t be able to stop until I’m done with you.” The lust in her hazy eyes was unmistakable, but just as I was about to plunge into her, warm hands found their way inside my shirt, holding my chest to stop me. 

“Andy… the condom…” but I wasn’t having it.

“No,” I announced it, the finality in my voice clear as day as I pushed her arms down against the floor and penetrated her slowly, making sure to watch her jaw going slack as it always did at my first thrust.

When I saw that the initial shock had started to subdue and she was about to argue, I took her lips with mine, devouring her mouth the way I’d done with her pussy just seconds before. “I’m fucking you just like this, and you’re gonna take it.”

She wiggled underneath me, but it seemed more like she was going through the motions of showing that she didn’t want that than actually trying to make me stop.

It didn’t stop me. She would never be able to stop me. Not when I was in this mindset, not when I needed her so much. “I’m tired of wanting you,” I admitted. “I’m tired of wanting you, having you and then going back to wanting you again. I will never have my fill of you, I know that now. I need you.”

Her pussy clenched around me sporadically, her moans escaping her lips as she failed to speak when my hips grew quicker, my thrusts more forceful. “I need you more than sexually. I’m desperate for you, baby.”

And finally, she stopped squirming, her eyes suddenly widening in realization as my voice betrayed all of the emotions I was feeling. “I want to come home to you, Y/N. Only you.”

My confession earned her surrender. I felt her muscles relax underneath me, a sign of her acceptance of my new quest for ownership of her body, and so I could finally release her hands to run mine all over her skin.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” I whispered once the tempo became softer, but no less passionate. “I haven’t fucked her since we met.” I could see the shock in her expression, and I knew what she would argue.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I shook my head at her silliness, stroking her cheek after I kissed her one more time. I could see my future in her eyes, even if she didn’t allow herself to see hers in mine.

“I want to get you pregnant, Y/N.” And there it was. The truth and my heart, stripped of all pretense, exposed for her to see. And if I feared the rejection, the way her eyes softened before she pulled me to another kiss sealed our fate.

“I love you so fucking much.” And so we made passionate, desperate sex on the kitchen floor. I fucked her so hard, it didn’t take much to have her drooling for me. I drowned all of my worries and sorrows in her sweet pussy, making sure to worship every single inch of her body with my lips and tongue.

“I’m gonna keep you forever, princess,” I promised, heart aching just at the thought of ever losing her. “She won’t ever take you from me. Ever.” At the reminder of the reality of our situation, the fact that she was “the other one”, her body writhed underneath me, her struggle to fight back once again rising, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“Ever, baby,” I promised against her lips, silencing her cries with a deep, sloppy kiss that only ended when I needed to gather some air. “I can’t even think of having to live without you.” 

The rhythm of our hips finding one another kept up, the sounds growing exponentially wetter with each second, with each drop of her arousal that collected on her lower lips, lubricating my member and aiding my goal to fill her up until it lathered the floor beneath us.

“You won my heart,” I confessed, making sure that she’d see the honesty deep in my eyes. “You left me no choice but to fall for you. Now I won’t live without you.” A desperate cry tore from deep within her, rekindling the passion with which I fucked her. Normally I was so sweet to her, so patient. But I knew she liked this as well. She liked to be fucked like a whore, even if she was as far removed from one as possible.

“Call my name, sweet girl.” It was a plea, a desperate need to blur the lines between what our relationship was and what I wanted it to become until they disappeared altogether. “Say you are mine. Say it.”

She was drooling now, and I knew how hard it was for her to find the words I needed her to say as she succumbed to bliss right there, on the kitchen floor, with me. Still, her scream penetrated my hazy mind, adding to the overwhelming tightness that squeezed me, begging for my cum, “I’m yours! I’m yours, Andy.”

The aftermath found us breathless, with flushed chest and flushed cheeks. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything quite as beautiful as the nervous but hopeful look with which she gazed at me. I knew what she needed to hear, and with a kiss on her forehead, I reassured her, “Let’s go to bed, princess. You won’t be sleeping alone tonight.”

And as we cuddled the night away, the unspoken became clear and clear. Not tonight, nor ever again.

[fvrxdrm]

5 Times

Pairing: Damnation!Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warning(s): None

*****

4 times Leon didn't confess his love and 1 time he did.

One

It was the giggles that sailed upon your boat, the laughter, the smiles. You both saw the funny in everything and that was your bond. You could be serious too; you loved deeply of others more than what was generally accepted. So you guessed the humor was how you let out the tension that kind of love brings. In those silly moments you were perfect, and they were the sweetness you needed in rough times. That's what friends do, right? It's the love that makes doors in emotional brick walls, the love that makes everything possible.

That's what Leon always thought. It was so cordial and unique in a way that he felt like what he valued so much was somehow outlandish and alien. He couldn't distinguish what comes out of him whenever you were with him and every tingle that raises hills on his skin was a puzzle he was unable to solve.

"I'll see you around," you mumbled against his chest.

"Yep." Leon unwrapped his arms around you albeit slowly, reluctant for some reason, and smiled through his pursed lips. "I'll see you around."

He watched as you wended your way from his house and into your home, a teasing tug pulling his lips at the ghost of your own against his cheek.

Two

Under the dim lights and the colorful ornamentations, your raiment sparkled against the gleam, catching the eye of many guests, predominantly Leon. You looked like a princess wearing a headband that imitated a crown, a top and a pair of pants embellished with a winking glint that could be mistaken as diamonds from afar, and heeled leather boots that comically made you look tall. Your hair was in a loose and messy braid with a few strands hanging just beside your face and a light chain that twisted along your H/L H/C locks.

Leon was in awe, no doubt. His focus was glued to your appearance. Even when his friends were making random conversations with him, he found it unbearably hard to keep his icy blues away from you.

"You should just ask her out, you know. You've been staring at her with heart eyes the entire night," Chris spoke as he followed the trail of Leon's gaze towards you.

Leon broke away from his stupor and shook his head at the man's voice, his blood rushing towards his neck and face.

"What? No, no. You're mistaken. I-I don't like her like that."

"You sure? Last time we were drunk you were yelling about how much you love her right into my ear."

"We were drunk, Chris."

"And? What's that saying again? A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts?" Chris simpered as Leon's eyes widened in surprise.

"What? Th-that's not true!" He denied.

"Mhm, sure. Anyway, my girlfriend's probably looking for me now," the taller and bulkier man said. "At least ask her to dance."

As Chris' footsteps faded away into the beat of the music, Leon thought about what he had said.

Did he actually like her, or was it just something he was confusing himself with? Either way, you were still a treasured dear to him and whether or not his heart was romantically beating for you, he would still value you the same, although he would probably be a bit clingier if you did end up together.

For now, he'll just ask you for a dance, go with the flow, and see what happens.

Three

The night rode in on a horse of pure midnight velvet, beckoned by the stars under the glow of a full moon. As the colors of the day rested, perhaps dreamt of the morrow, the forest became its monochrome beauty, darkened greens and golds that made an ever-changing, ever-present puzzle, question and answer united.

Fire danced beside you as you and Leon laid against under the constellation of stars and talked the night away, smiling and laughing at every jest that was told.

It felt pleasant to be in his arms and he felt warmth as a wild heart beat in his bars.

"This one," you began, leading his fingers towards a raised and silvery part of your skin, "I got this when I was younger. I got stabbed by a pencil."

"A pencil?"

"Yeah. My friend and I got into a fight and it was buried, like, 3-fucking-inches inside of me. And holy shit, my teacher didn't fucking notice it while I was bleeding profusely. I was leaking hamburger helper!"

Leon busted a gut and pulled you towards him even more as he shook in laughter.

You went on and on about the most absurd things that had happen during your childhood until you lost all energy and eventually fell asleep in Leon's arms.

You looked peaceful, he thought. Your face was so serene as if nothing had really affected you in any way. The world was cruel, but you only sought for the brighter side and stood along it with your back turned to the hell it truly bore. Your lips were parted lightly, and hair just a tad bit messy from all the exaggerated movements you'd done while telling your stories and tossing your head back while laughing. A part of your skin was showing as your top rode up, and he couldn't the blush that crawled up to his face when realized his hand was rested on that patch of skin.

He smiled.

Maybe he did like you, or love you. If his admiration wasn't enough, then his heart reassured him.

Four

"Oh, fuck!"

You swam away from Leon as fast as your arms and legs could fight against the water as he chased you, muscles and quads aiding him. Compared to you, he was more skilled in this type of stuff while you had chicken legs with barely anything of assistance. So it was no surprise when he caught up to you with spider hands and wrapped his arms around your waist. He tickled your stomach, the bareness of it making the stimulation all the more patent and making you guffaw while squirming in his arms.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" You cried in between laughter. You turned around to face him when you felt his hands making a stop against the side of torso and looked at the wonders of his eyes steadily and intensely.

You didn't notice it, but Leon's breath hitched at the proximity of your faces, the hot air that flew out of your nose hitting the droplets on his face. You were in a daze. Both of you. It felt so intimate and bona fide that for a second that was your only reality.

Your fingers trailed up his chest, neck, and finally his cheek, and for a moment, your hand was still on his face with only your thumb moving to stroke the scar that was stripped away from his hair. Leon furrowed his brows. The inside of your lip was lightly bitten as you thought about your next action for a moment. But decided that fuck it, life is short. If he felt the same way than congrats! But if he didn't, well, it's either he'll pull away or kiss back with no purpose. And hey, what's the matter with making out with your best friend?

And so, you drew a bit closer, albeit rather slowly in case Leon wanted to pull away. But seeing as he was copying your motions, you saw his intention and pressed your lips against his in a shy lip-lock.

Five

Leon tugged on his tie as he looked at the people dancing around inside of the venue, his heart doing a little dance of its own when he saw you smiling with the crowd.

He blew a sigh, the breeze intertwining with the air. He could see the party from the balcony: flashes of different color schemes, the swaying of dresses as the women moved, the chattering of people as they drank the glasses of champagne. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe this was all about you and him; two souls entwined by love.

"I see you didn't invite me," a sultry and velvety voice said from beside him. He knew who it was and it didn't faze him anymore to see her appearing uninvited as she always did.

"What are you doing here, Ada?"

"What, I can't go see two of my favorite people anymore?"

"Well, it always ended in a mess, anyway, so what's the point." Ada chuckled in response and leaned back against the railing, the smile her giggling left still ghosting on her face. It was all jokes, fun, and games to her for a moment until she turned serious and gazed at you from a distance where you couldn't notice.

"Take care of each other, Leon. You both are worth more than what you give yourselves credit for," she muttered. "I wish I could've given her the life you're giving to her now. But I can't, and I'll remain like this until I die."

In the depths of her mind, Ada reminisced on the time when she was in Leon's position. She gave the love you needed and wanted, and cared for you in so many ways. But she was a mercenary, a wanted one at that, and she knew that one day, everything would be thrown into a void or burned until it turned to ashes. So, she broke what you had off and handed you to Leon where he could give you a better life.

Leon couldn't say anything. It seemed rude and odd but he remembered when you knocked on his door, drenched in rain water and sobbing everything from your chest. It hurt to see you like that. And so, he promised. He promised to be the best husband he could ever be and shower you with everything he could give you.

"Leon!" Your voice rang out as you ran towards him with a wide smile on your face, startling the both of them.

Leon turned towards where Ada stood but saw that she was gone as if she was nothing but an apparition that was made by his mind.

He was befuddled for a moment, pondering about his encounter with the woman, but found his heart racing as you came closer to him.

What transpired was long forgotten and all the world could see how Leon mimicked the smile that defined the joy you brought to him. He was just happy to share such a beautiful moment with you and he optimistically wondered about what was ahead of you.

He pulled you towards him and spun you around as he battered your face with kisses, whispering 'I love you's and so many more sweet nothings against your cheeks while you laughed in his arms.

Hidden within the shadows was the raven-haired woman, imitating their smiles as she watched the intimacy from afar. She felt like her mission was done and although it hurt, she was thankful for what she'd done. Leon was going to give you the life you deserved and he was going to fill the holes she'd left.

*****

This was rushed. Lol. And I'm using my phone. How was it tho?

This was the outfit I had in mind. Feel free to change it though.

[pluviophile-imagines]

LOWI CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWER MILESTONE!! 🥺💞💞💞 u deserve it and so much more!! for the kiss prompt could i get 18 with shinsou ?? 🥺👉👈

TYSM SOFFFF so uh. I’ve been fuckin stupid dkfnskfb my dumbass rlly wrote Shinsou correctly on my master post like a week ago and then still managed to write for Shigaraki instead when it came to the actual piece 😳 so thanks to my handyman brainrot you get two—that’s right, two!—characters for the price of one ur welcome ♥️ I cheated a lil bit so shinsou;s not sitting in the reader’s lap it’s just his head but i think its cute 🥺 also Shiggy’s is like twice as long as ive been trying to write them oops i rlly like the jealous reader premise 👉👈 it’s under the read more bc of that and bc of kiiiinda spoilers? if yall arent caught up to the manga you won’t get it but if u are it’s canonical. Whew that was a lot! Enjoy!

Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

Shinsou

To say that your relationship with Shinsou is new would be an understatement. You’ve been friends for years—ever since the third year of high school when you’d been assigned to him as his support—but you’ve never been particularly close until recently when you’d once again found yourself working on his hero costume and support items.

He’d only asked you out yesterday after nearly two months of tension-filled glances and fleeting touches. Now, the two of you are watching a movie at your mutual friend Kirishima’s apartment, sitting quite awkwardly on a loveseat and pretending like you don’t want to get closer to each other. You haven’t told your friends yet about your new relationship status, but that’s not entirely what’s holding you two back. If anything, it’s run-of-the-mill first date awkwardness (if watching a movie with six of your closest friends around can be considered a date), too afraid to initiate anything.

The movie’s dull; the two of you have pulled out your phones to snark at each other through text, a strategy you’d begun weeks ago after being hushed one too many times by Kaminari because you were talking too loudly. The bright screens probably aren’t all that much better, but you two are in the back anyway; nobody can see it unless they turn away from the TV.

You risk a glance up and end up locking eyes with Shinsou. Your face heats up, heartbeat quickening, as he gives you a charming smile. You watch him glance around the room, unsure at first why he’s doing it until he turns his attention back to you and slowly, silently, moves over across the loveseat into your personal space.

Your legs are touching now, faces so close your nose is nearly brushing his. One of his hands has come to brace against the armrest you’re leaning on, allowing him to stay leaning in.

“Hey,” he says, little more than a whisper and clearly hushed so the others don’t hear.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, earning yourself a low snort.

Instead of vocally responding, he pushes himself back up to a sitting position and then moves his hands to maneuver your legs until you’re no longer curled up against the couch’s backing but sitting like a normal person.

Then he lays down, head resting on your thighs, and turns to face the movie.

You’re grinning uncontrollably. All possible self-conscious thoughts of the others seeing you are dashed from your mind; you like the weight of him in your lap too much.

You spend much of the rest of the movie like that, easily over half an hour. A few minutes in he reaches down to find your hand and bring it to his hair, encouraging you to stroke it. It’s even softer than you’ve imagined in the past, fluffy and thick and genuinely nice to run your hands though. There’s a surge of contentment that rushes through you, and maybe a little bit of pride at the knowledge that you can do this pretty much any time you want now.

By the end of the film, you’re pretty sure Shinsou’s fallen asleep. He gives you the scare of your life, however, when he grabs your arm as you’re trying to pull away. His eyes open, purple irises trained on you.

What happens next you blame on grogginess, him still not quite being awake. He blames it on you; whenever you mention it, he says he saw you and had become consumed with an overwhelming desire to just lean up and kiss you. Whatever the reason, it’s nice for you.

His hand comes up to the back of your neck, tugging you down just as much as he lifts up. It begins soft, kind of sweet, just lips as the two of you melt into each other—but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Within moments the two of you morph the kiss from a quick peck after a movie to a very passionate makeout, and frankly you’d be more concerned if they hadn’t interrupted the two of you.

You pull away when you hear Kaminari’s wolf whistle, left sitting on the loveseat with a burning face and your boyfriend in your lap, still half asleep.

Shigaraki

You’re not jealous.

No, you’ve been dating Tomura for months. You can’t be jealous when he’s, well, yours, and has been for quite some time. You’re his first relationship, his first everything, and it’s frankly foolish of you to feel this insecure just because some floozy is simpering at him from across the enormous room where you and the rest of the League are scattered about. It’s not like she really wants him, or even knows him; he’s just the hew big-shot leader and she’s decided being his lover sounds good. Too bad that role’s already taken.

Still, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest—an ache in your heart, a burning lump in your throat—that says now that Tomura is Grand Commander he’ll drop you for someone better.

You don’t realize you’re glaring daggers at the woman until she catches your eye. She has no business looking that smug; the only reason she’s allowed in the room is to give Tomura reports. You’re the one lounging next to him as she approaches; he has your legs over his lap, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing circles on your thigh.

And when she bends down to drop the report on his lap (as if your damn legs aren’t there, you want to scoff) she draws the eyes of every League member except the one she wants, because you’re the one who has Tomura’s attention.

He’s wearing Father, but you’ve long passed being afraid when he looks at you from between those lifeless digits and you can see the expression beneath; those lips tugging down slightly in a pout, brow furrowed, eyes far softer than they have any damn business being while hiding behind the severed hand of his old man. He’s concerned, and a little confused.

Tomura plucks the report from your legs and sets it aside, reaching to pull you fully into his lap. To your surprise he takes Father off, too; he buries his face into your neck to prevent the outsider from seeing, lips just brushing your ear so that you can hear him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been pouting ever since the secretary came in, brat.”

Like hell you’re saying anything in front of her. You remain stubbornly silent.

He doesn’t like that, you can tell, but while the secretary’s interest is lost on him he knows you well enough to tell that you’re uncomfortable with her. Presumably that’s why he doesn’t press the issue and kisses you instead.

You don’t expect it. Tomura’s not exactly one to shy away from PDA (you’re sitting in his lap in front of the whole League, for fuck’s sake), but intimacy is something he’s never wanted to take beyond closed doors. When he’s in a sour mood you’ll kiss him sometimes, even in public (he’s invigorated by your affection in many way, but never anything you’d call heated.

This kiss, though, is. It’s anything but chaste, perhaps even downright lewd. He’s all but initiating a makeout with you while Miss Secretary is standing right there. Maybe his affection-motivated ways are rubbing off on you, but it helps more than it probably ought to.

You’re dazed by the time he pulls away. The sound of the door slamming closed snaps you from your trance. The secretary, ploy foiled simply by your annoyed expression, had left. It doesn’t matter. None of this was ever really about her in the first place.

“There,” Tomura says, audibly quite pleased with himself. “She’s gone. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, leaning in to tuck your own head into his shoulder. Your voice is muffled when you speak, quiet so that only he can hear.

“It’s dumb.”

“It’s bothering you,” he says simply. There’s an underlying statement there: tell me so I can destroy it for you. In many ways, Tomura is a predictable man.

You know he’s not going to drop it, so you accept your fate. “She was making a pass at you.”

He tenses beneath you, holding you closer. You risk lifting your head from where it’s buried to see the way his nose is scrunched up. “She wasn’t.”

“Yeah, she was.”

There’s a pause, like he’s processing everything you’re saying. Then, seemingly finally registering what exactly is bothering you, his hands move to grip your hips and maneuver you to straddle him, sitting fully on his lap facing him. “Fine. Why’re you pissed about it, then?”

You lean in again, arms coming to wrap around his neck as you bury your face into his chest and try to ignore the tears that are coming. You’d never be able to live it down if any of the others saw you crying over the fucking secretary.

But you know more than anyone thanks to many late nights assuring your boyfriend he’s the only one for you that Tomura can empathize with this insecurity. It’s a little strange how the script has flipped.

“She’s a high ranking MLA member, she probably has some crazy strong quirk. I’m quirkless. I dunno. I guess I’m scared you’ll drop me for someone like her. Like I said, it’s dumb.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. You sit there, listening to his heartbeat and matching your breathing to his. Then he speaks.

“Your emotions aren’t dumb. It’s okay that you’re feeling this way. Thank you for telling me.” He’s parroting you, you realize; this is what you tell him every time he comes to you for comfort when he’s gotten in a mood. You feel a little fuzzy, warmth flooding your chest. “But I think we both know they’re irrational.”

“Tomura… I—”

“I’m not interested in some lame-ass NPC,” he interrupts, no hesitation and entirely sincere. He doesn’t even need to think about it. “You’re my player two, my endgame. The only thing in this world worth protecting. You really think that secretary can hold a candle to you? I didn’t even notice her. Why would I when you’re here?”

You can’t help it, you surge upward and kiss him, just as passionately as he had you mere moments before. His right hand traces up your spine to find the back of your neck and pull you closer, sending a thrill through your body as your own arms tighten around him.

“Oi! Horndogs! Get a damn room, don’t make us see that!”

You break away at Dabi’s words, panting slightly, and if the sincerity of Tomura’s little rant hadn’t convinced you that his words were true, the look of utter adoration he’s regarding you with would have.

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

A Childhood Promise

Pairing - Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax x Reader

Warnings - None I don’t think

Word Count - 2.5k

Other Comments - I hate posting on Tumblr I’m not gonna lie to you guys. Trying to get this shit to post has been so hard. Please I just want a crumb of recognition tumblr. Let people see my posts.

      Life used to be so simple when you were younger. You had a lovely close knit family, you went to a great school, you had great friends. All around you were a happy little kid. The best thing you will ever remember from your childhood was your best friend Ajax. Everything was so simple.

Ajax was the poster child of a “perfect kid”. He was well liked by his teachers and peers, he had superb grades, he was becoming a young prodigy in his combat class, and above all, he was your all time best friend. You two were inseparable ever since you had met when your parents had all gotten to know each other once at an event.

     No one ever really saw one of you without the other, and if they ever did come across such a sight, it would never last long. You two also almost went through the entirety of school being in the same class, and if you weren’t, Ajax would always find a way to catch you right as you were being dismissed. You two had the most innocent yet cliché childhood friendship, as you two played with each other or hung out day after day.

     “One day (y/n) I’m going to marry you! I promise!” Ajax enveloped you in a hug as the two of you giggled.

     This lasted for quite some time, that was until Ajax had turned eighteen. His combat skills had skyrocketed since his adolescent classes and competitive matches. Combat came like second nature to him, and that didn’t go by unnoticed. Very quickly Ajax got an offer for a job, one that he would never tell you details about. You remember the shock that enveloped you when Ajax excitedly spouted the good news to you.

     You didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. You wanted to be happy for your childhood friend because this was an amazing offer for him, and an incredible opportunity to keep growing. But on the other hand you wanted to be sad because you knew you would see him less and less as time went on, not only that but you were still just so uncertain about this job. Ajax never withheld information about what was going on in his life until now; what if he got himself into something awful? Nonetheless you quickly plastered a shocked and excited expression on your face, as you rambled different forms of congrats and praise for being so good. Before Ajax left to go back to his home you gave him the tightest hugged and made him promise to stay close. Ajax was floored that you valued your friendship with him so much you would make him promise something he would never give up.

     Time had passed and you noticed yourselves slowly drifting apart. It went from calling each other less, to only texting, then to texting less until you guys barely talked. You understood Ajax was busy, but it still stung seeing you what you thought would’ve been your life long friend slowly forget about you. That was until you had received something in the mail with a very familiar name on it. Ajax.

     A small black box containing what looked to be a hand made scrappily hammered ring along with a letter at the bottom landed on your desk in your bedroom, assuming one of your parents must’ve dropped it off in there. All doubts about Ajax in your mind had been eased as you delicately slid the heavy polished ring on your finger. After you did you giggled in excitement as a delicate pink blush found its way to the tops of your cheeks and ears. You had almost forgotten about the note neatly folded, awaiting to be opened and it’s contents to be discovered.

      You gently unfolded the letter, almost scared that you’d rip it. Inside was the most beautifully written borderline love letter you had ever read, it was almost like romantic poetry, and at the very end was a sentence you wanted to burn into your memory ‘remember that promise?’. Your mind was immediately flooded with all the fond memories you had with Ajax, blushing more and more as you uncovered them. By the end of your daydream session butterflies were fluttering around excitedly in your stomach. You didn’t want to be friends with Ajax anymore. You wanted to love him.

     It had been years since you last heard from him. Not a day has gone by that you haven’t worn the ring Ajax had given you so long ago. You moved away from Snezhnaya after you turned eighteen, now residing in Mondstadt whilst you were going to college; you planned to move back after getting your degree but you made some great friends and the carefree culture of the windy city really called to you. Though after one of your parents' health took a turn for the worst you had made quick plans to go visit with your family.

     It had felt like ages since you last stepped foot out into the familiar icy air, looking around to see the sheets of snow and ice covering the ground. Luckily the streets were plowed, which allowed you to maneuver through the city. Your visit has been great since setting foot in your childhood home. You were happy to be home for the time being, happy to relive the nostalgic moments of your younger days. Everything had changed so much since then. You had barely even thought about Snezhnaya or even Ajax for that matter despite wearing his ring every day, wanting to start fresh when you left for college.

      You suddenly realized you had let your head drop accidentally dozing off, jerking yourself out of melancholy memories. You decided it was probably jet lag, but it was far too early to go to sleep so coffee sounded like a good solution. You remembered an old coffee shop you used to study at whilst you were in high school, that was conveniently within walking distance to your house. With a quick five minute walk to the outdoor shops that littered the local streets you lived by, you located the coffee shop taking a minute to stare at the outside. It hadn’t changed at all.

     Smiling to yourself you walked in and politely ordered a coffee before sitting down at a high table by the window. The stand for the table had a heater built in, keeping you warm as you looked out the thin glass shielding you from the icy winds. You took in the old streets, smiling as you once again lost yourself in the nostalgia of everything. You hadn’t noticed a strikingly tall ginger walk into the shop, and you also hadn’t noticed the considerably loud gasp and call of your name. You only noticed the man's presence when he tapped on your table, causing you to jolt and promptly turn in his directly. It took you a minute to realize who you were staring at.

     “(Y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?” Ajax. There he stood, at the side of you bent over at the hips slightly so he wasn’t completely towering over you. Ajax didn’t want to see you here. He didn’t want to see you at all. You were still fresh in his mind just like you were the last day he had seen you. He missed you. His eyes fell to your hand where he saw the ring he had made and sent to you still on your finger after all these years.

     Your face was almost unrecognizable after all the time that passed, you had grown so much since then. Something unsettled Ajax about your demeanor, you were like an open book to him when you guys were younger as you wore your heart on your sleeve. Looking at you now though, there was no glimpse at the emotions you were feeling in this moment. Were you happy to see him again, since you wore his ring? Were you upset with him breaking his promise? Ajax couldn’t tell as you stared blankly at him for what seemed like ages, giving it enough time to make the air solidify and turn stale and uncomfortable. You finally shook yourself out of this trance you were in, as you suddenly stood up.

     “Wha- Hey, wait a minute (y/n)! What are you doing here?” You didn’t acknowledge Ajax’s voice, subliminally yearning to fall into his strong arms. You were upset. How dare he ask you what you’re doing here. You weren’t the one who had completely abandoned everyone in your life for some sketchy job. You grabbed your coffee before swiftly beginning to exit. Something in Ajax was different. He didn’t really take kindly to you ignoring him, as you felt a vice like grip grab onto your wrist, causing you to flinch and whip around to angrily rip your arm out of his grasp.

     “Don’t touch me Ajax! How dare you have the audacity to ask me what I’m doing here! This was my home! I didn’t abandon everyone I knew and loved on some sketchy ass whim!” Ajax stared at you. Were you joking?! Some ‘sketchy ass whim’?! You supported him when he first told you!

     “What the hell is wrong with you (y/n)?!” Your eyes narrowed as you grit your teeth, you grip on your coffee tightening. Without even thinking you threw it in his face.

     “What’s wrong with me?! You’re so fucked up Ajax! We were best friends and then you completely vanish from reality! You promised me we would stay close!” Now it was time for Ajax to grit his teeth. So you were upset with him about that.

     “(Y/n) that was years ago!! We grew up! That was just a stupid childish promise!” As soon as those words left Ajax’s mouth, he went silent as his eyes widened in horror at his on voice. The entire coffee shop was silent as they all watched your argument break out. Ajax didn’t mean to say that, he knew he had fucked up his promise with you and he hated himself for it; he just didn’t know how to explain what he was doing without scaring you off or pushing you away. Turns out he was already doing that by vanishing. He wanted you to forget about him, he knew that when he took the job to join the Fatui and serve the Tsaritsa he would never be able to give you what you deserved. A normal and happy relationship. Ajax was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a sniff and realized you were beginning to cry.

     “Ah… So that’s what it was. Just a way to get me to get off your back. I suppose the ring served the same purpose? Whatever Ajax, you’ve changed and I don’t ever wanna see you again.” You quickly ripped the ring off before throwing it in the trash as you stormed out, trying not to audibly cry, as you had already embarrassed yourself enough in that shop. Ajax stood statuesque still. Holy shit he had made everything so much worse. He sighed before snapping out of his position to grab some napkins, to hopefully dry himself off before venturing back outside. He had to fix this.

     It had been a couple days since your argument with Ajax and you were in shambles. This could not have come at a worse time. You were just happy that this Gods awful trip was coming to an end soon. You sighed as you flipped onto your back in your childhood bedroom, trying to reminisce on the old memories you had here, but all of them had gotten tainted by Ajax. He had ruined everything for you. You regretted everything with him, with getting so close to him. Tears had started to well up in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away before they had gotten the chance to fall. You hadn’t noticed before, but there was this weird tapping sound coming from your window; which caused you to anxiously investigate. You pulled your curtains back to be greeted with Ajax, who looked at you sheepishly. You blankly stared at him for a moment before closing the curtains and going back to lay on your bed, trying your hardest to ignore Ajax’s protests and calls of your name. After a while everything had gone silent, until your door opened and Ajax emerged one again.

     “Uh… I’m sorry about coming into your room uninvited but one of your parents called me inside and said I could just come in. In hindsight I probably should’ve knocked before coming in and-”

     “What the hell do you want Ajax.” You cut off the young man's babbling without looking at him, you were on your side laying down on your bed with your back facing him.

     “I wanted to make everything up to you. I want to explain everything and I want to tell you about my job finally.” Ajax was hopeful that you would allow him the opportunity to explain himself.

     “No. Now get out of my house.” Ajax’s heart sunk. No… No no no you had to let him explain himself, he needed to explain. He needed you.

     “Please (y/n) I know you don’t owe me anything, not even your time, but please I owe you this.” You sighed, before slowly sitting up and facing him finally. You stared at him for a moment before speaking.

     “Fine. But you have two minutes, so you better speak quickly.” Ajax’s heart fluttered. He spent those two minutes exactly, explaining everything that happened. You were silent for the most part, staring at your hand and you fiddled with your fingers. Ajax waited anxiously for your response. When you didn’t give him anything he took this as a sign to move onto faze two of his apology. For the last couple of days he had been running all over Snezhnaya spending preposterous amounts of mora. He had presented you with flowers and food; but above all he presented you with a ring.

     “That is one promise that I am going to keep true. Please (y/n) forgive me and make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.” You stared at him with large eyes and Ajax took a hold of one of your hands and gently slid the beautiful ring onto your ring finger. Tears once again began to well up in your eyes, and suddenly your arms were wrapped around his torso as you cried into his chest. You missed this. He still felt the same way he did when you hugged him last, he even smelled the same.

     “Is that… A yes?” You nodded furiously, face still buried deep in his chest. You were willing to forgive him, but above all, you were willing to love him again.

[thefanficmonster]

Begone

Streamer Gang & Asexual Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Acephobia, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently come out as asexual, Y/N faces some less than pleasant or appropriate responses in their chat during their stream with the gang. Luckily, they’re not alone in battling the haters this time.

Requested by the lovely Anon who told acephobes to begone, yeah you know who you are hehe. Thank you so much for the request darling! Let’s show these acehobes who they’re messing with! Love, Vy ❤

Boy is this nerve-wrecking or what? Sure, I maybe woke up with a ton of confidence, I listened to motivational and uplifting talks and listened to mood boosting music. I had a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Damn it, I went on a run, all in an attempt to convince myself that dealing with the online world again is but a piece of cake for a badass like me. Well, low and behold, that feeling didn’t last very long. Here I am, chewing my nails off at the though of hopping in the Discord call and Among Us lobby with my friends and starting my stream. It’s not like I’m not expecting my friends and fans to support me - of course I am! I know they��re gonna give me a ton of love and appreciation and support and uplift me no matter what. But then again, there’s still those people who believe me and other people like me to be invalid and broken and whatnot.

Those are the ones I wanna avoid. 

It’s not like their words mean much to me but I simply don’t wanna see em, you know? It’s not only about me - it’s least about me actually - it’s more about all those wonderful people they are insulting when they say shit like that about asexuals and all the people on the ace spectrum. I can’t help but flare up and get angry on the behalf of all my ace friends and even people I’ve never met.

It’s also my first time being directly thrown into the fire instead of getting caught in the crossfire seeing as how I came out to my fandom via a tweet and an Instagram post a week ago, telling my identity’s truth: finally bringing my asexuality to the surface to shine its brightest so I can be be my best and reach for my full potential.

But damn am I afraid to see how everyone took it. 

My friends were quick to jump in and take me offline before I start refreshing my own posts to see the comments under them. Lord knows that without them I would’ve driven myself insane, I’ll forever be grateful for what they did and the lengths they went to to keep me offline and whatnot. One word to give you an idea of how invested they were in this: origami. All of us might as well have been born with two left hands and yet we still tried doing origami. Freaking origami.

Damn do I love my friends.

But now I don’t have sheets of paper and my friends to distract me. I have a fanbase to entertain and another friend group I haven’t talked to in a while. I don’t wanna get any predictions in already so I don’t jinx myself, so I’m just gonna say it’s gonna be...interesting regardless of what happens.

Then again, when is it not interesting when the streamer gang’s involved.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You got this

Listening to that encouraging little voice inside my head, I finally equip my headphones and in one fluid motion turn my camera on, officially starting my stream and unmuting my mic as I hop in the call with everyone.

“Hi guys! Guess who’s returned!“ I exclaim cheerfully, desperate to hide the nervousness of my voice.

“You really missed your opportunity to say ‘guess who’s back...back again’ didn’t you?“ Charlie is the one who greets me first, sounding rather disappointed in me in his usual jokester manner. It’s nice to hear, it makes me feel like nothing’s changed in the week I’ve been gone. Like I’m still the same person to these people. I really am the same, I just now am a lot better version of myself. Almost as though I’ve reached my final form. It feels empowering really. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Charlie laughs again, “Congrats, by the way. You keep proving you can get cooler and cooler.“

“Careful there Charlie, I can only handle so large of an ego.“ I joke back, rolling my eyes playfully as a wide grin spreads across my face, “No, but seriously, thank you so much, man. It means the world to me that you support me.“

“Um, how could we NOT?“ That’s very clearly Rae, “Hun, you are so brave and amazing and wonderful, how could we ever NOT support you?“

“Yeah, we’ll always support you no matter what, Y/N. We’ll always be your friends, through thick, thin and beyond.“ Poki too interferes, her words only making my smile wider.

“Alright, alright, y’all are gonna make me cry and I haven’t even read my chat yet, hold on.“ I say, fanning my face to dry the tears I hope the webcam isn’t spotting, “Darn, you guys are the best. Sorry, give me a sec to gather my composure, I’ll be right back.“

I quickly mute my in-game mic as I turn to my chat where I see the same amount of love and support in the form of comments and emojis flooding in from my viewers. A warm feeling spreads throughout my chest, making me feel the most comfortable with myself I’ve ever felt. The most loved I’ve ever felt. The most seen and understood. To finally be you feels like you are finally really living in this world, not like you’ve been already living in it for God knows how long. It makes me so freaking happy and fulfilled to finally be living as me, as the real me.

Unfortunately, in life, nothing can be 100% pure and good. There’s always at least 1% there threatening to ruin all your happiness you worked so hard to build or obtain. It may be one in a hundred, but fuck it’s powerful and effective.

And in my case it comes in the form of two comments that stick out to my eyes. Acephobic comments saying my identity’s fake, claiming I’m faking it, saying us acephobes are immature creatures who refuse to grow up, or attention whores. Or just saying we’re delusional and in denial, confused about who we are.

I hadn’t even realized I was clenching my jaw and fists but when I do, I slowly relax my muscles and crack my knuckles before addressing the two people who spat out that nonsense.

“Ok, listen here, shooterpro69 and yourmom_lol. For starters, I want to apologize for your ignorance and lack of education on the matter of asexuality. In fact, for you especially, I plan on making an educational video, explaining asexuality to people who need or want to learn more. You, my friends, are in desperate need to be fed some knowledge cause damn, God knows how many people secretly think you’re hella stupid. Not that they’re wrong to think so but anyway. Unless you have anything nice or positive to say, begone from my chat. Actually, when I think about it, begone from every chat. No one needs you polluting their communities with acephobia and hate.“ I say, all spoken in a calm tone despite the boiling anger within me. People who know me well would probably be able to tell I’m fuming underneath the calm façade, but at least I got my message across loud and clear.

“WOO HOO, You tell em Y/N!“ Toast cheers, clapping his hands and whistling as more cheering arises from each my friends, leaving me in a state of mild shock and confusion.

Wait, what?!

“Um, wait, you guys heard that?“ I ask, my eyes darting to thein-game mic symbol that shows an not crossed-off mic, meaning it was enabled during the entirety of my speech.

“Hell yeah we did! You slayed them, Y/N! Damn goddamn!“ Rae whistles too, her enthusiasm wafting over me like a breath of fresh air.

“I second that!“ Corpse joins in, “And remember what we said - we’ll support you through anything. Need to bury an acephobe’s body, we’re the people you should call.” He says, confident as heck.

And I just can’t hold it in anymore - I burst out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

If I thought I was happy and fulfilled before, this has to be the closest to paradise I’m gonna get on Earth.  All thanks to these wonderful people. Friends are really something else aren’t they: they come into your life - often unexpectedly - and change it completely. Suddenly you’re not alone, you’re not forced to deal with everything and face everything on your own. Someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs.

Through thick, thin and beyond.

And it’s so fucking amazing.

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[yostresswritinggirl]

tw: blood, slight gore : @genshin-rei for the bootiful art

Behind lidded eyes, he relishes on a time when his wings that of an adepti beast carries beauty and elegance as he engulfs you in his arms. Wherever you are in Guyun, eyes distant and gazing the passing clouds with Ganyu, he always manages to find you.

The way you perk up at the sound of his descension before you even gaze at him, how your hands find its way on his arms as he offers a hug from behind, how every bit of worry leaves your body the moment you lay back on his broad chest. Moments like these are what he looks forward to the most. For when you are in his arms the world around you is forgotten, the waging war and looming death does not touch the tranquility when you two are together.

You are a simple adepti that serves to aid the main protectors of Liyue. He's a junior to the Yakshas. Perhaps in a sense you two do seem to have duties in common, and was fairly certainly the main reason you two got together.

Your song and dance of battle were still graced as one of the elegant devotions on protecting Liyue, sometimes red spills on the snow from a crane’s razor sharp wings, foes slain taller than your form as the snowflakes swirls with both of your movements. This was the time during the Archon War, and when the gods have fallen, it was a time of great celebration and relief. At least that was what he hoped.

When he opens his eyes, Pervases is met with more darkness as the looming clouds chases the light of day. The pain had already passed and turned into nothing but an aching numbness, the spear struck through his chest also embedded itself on the boulder he had his back rested on. “Perv...ases?” The urge to inhale deeply passes him, but he only winces as the fresh wound seem to widen more. With a breathless scoff he drops his head at the feeling of touch on his hand, another smaller hand managed to reach his pinky, and the moon reflects the onyx band wrapped around both’s ring fingers.

“My dear, how do you feel?” Pervases chances a glance at your laid form and he feels the tears prick at the edges of his eyes once again. A huge splatter of blood colors the ground beneath you like a veil of gore, the bottom half of your body is hidden by the boulder he was stuck to as well, pulverized and unsalvageable. You wouldn’t be able to dance with him anymore. “Dearest?”

You turn your head to finally face him, half of it drenched with the sickening color as you rested your cheek on the bloodied dirt. You’re struggling to focus from all the blood loss, Pervases figures at the way your eyes seem to unfocus from time to time. Yet you still managed to smile. “Do you still remember our wedding vows?”

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows.” How he wishes to intertwine your fingers right now, to share the last bit of warmth.

“Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine.” So instead he musters up the brightest smile he could, like how you’ve always wanted.

“With this candle, I will light your way into darkness.” Your eyes rapidly blink, squinting, before finally closing after your efforts.

“With this...ring, I ask you... to... be...”

“You got this... dearest. T-To be?” Despite how long you two had been there, Pervases right now is wide awake more than ever. Carefully watching your face, every detail, every wrinkle on your skin. A twitch under your left eye that shows a twinge of pain reaches his stare. “It’s to be mine.”

“To be mine...” The way your eyelids felt to have dragged itself open pains him more than the spear through him, battling the call of death to gaze up at him with a bloodied smile. “By wave and storm, we protect those we love.”

“By wind and snow, we cherish what we have.” Pervases finds his eyes glued to the wedding ring you two adorned, smooth and beveled to fashion a black diamond within the jade band. It was more oriental than cosmetic to keep up with your duties, “I love you.”

A minute passes and you do not answer. And the junior of the Yakshas, powerful and brave he may be, felt too scared to meet your now blank stare. Cheerful as he may be, in his last moments he weeps in regret and pure grief, the gap between you too far to hold your hand within his for one last time.

*taps mic* Fuck. *drops microphone and leaves*

@sweetstrawberrybabe @hanniejji @yellowflowre @starfell-traveler

[burnedbyshoto]

a brush of luck

— In a world where soulmates exist you can communicate yours with a brush of a pen. It just doesn’t help that you are a certified idiot with a skill in misplacing things. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, angst, soulmate!au, cursing

word count: 4,229

a/n: this is for the bnaharem collab and I was super horrible and was not ready and i just woke up and threw this together please dont hate me uhuhuhuhhh see the masterlist here!!!

message to join my tag list!

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“Hey, y/l/n, you forget this!”

Your hair was falling into your face, your face flustered, and your binders filled with paper seemed to be liquid as they slowly fell to the ground.

Kaminari stood behind you when you turned around. His lips were picked into a kind smile. It was a teasing one too by the small glint in his eyes while he held onto your backpack and phone. A look of self-realized stupidity washed over your face when your head threw back into a groan. How stupid were you, really?

“I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, throwing your things onto the nearest desk. You felt the tips of your ears burn with embarrassment when Kaminari helped you slip on your backpack and pocketed your phone in the jacket pocket. “I swear I’m the most forgetful person in the world.”

“Well, you do really clinch the title of the person who would forget their head if it wasn’t on their shoulders.”

Snorting, you shoved him with your shoulder, and he helped you regather your things with a low groan.

“Let’s see the tattoo,” you grin, ready to head out once again. Groaning loudly, Kaminari didn’t seem to want to give in to your demand, but still, with a twitch of his eye and a shove of his sleeve, he showed off his arm. “You know what, I’m going to say it—”

“I’m going to say it, I don’t care that you broke your elbows,” Kaminari finishes the phrase with you with a snort.

“Do you think it’s the first thing out of their mouth or matching tattoo?” you asked curiously when you blond best friend also prepped to leave the classroom for the day. 

“I hope its the first thing out of their mouth, imagine how fucking ultra sexy foxy hot that would be,” Kaminari moaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his eyes at the thought. Gagging at the visual horniness of that thought, you walked away, grinning at the way that Kaminari stumbled over his feet to catch up with you.

This was the world you lived in, the world of soulmates.

You weren’t sure when they had first started, but you know that it wasn’t always a phenomenon that was around. When you roamed the internet looking at old, old stories on soulmates, these theories, these worlds were built on one single concept.

They wrote about a world of black and white for everyone until that fateful moment, or matching tattoos for everyone. But no, this world was much more complicated, much more detailed. Yes, in the world there were a lot of theories that ended up being true, but the thing they didn’t see coming was that every couple — every polyamorous relationship consisted of a unique theme.

Kaminari’s soulmate was linked with tattoo’s, and the purpose behind said symbol was unknown, unheard of until he met them. Yours, as you could guess and know, was also different. Pressing your fingers against the pen that sat on the inside pocket of your uniform jacket, you smiled when Kaminari’s arm was thrown around you.

“At least you’ve never lost or forgotten that pen of yours, that would be dangerous!”

“I promise I will never ever forget it.”

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You sat on your bed nearing midnight. You were cocooned into your blankets flipping through your Hero Lawbook that you were supposed to have read months ago, but now finally was. Humming to yourself, you read through the apparent laws and the not so evident laws.

For instance, there is a law that Pro Heroes are not allowed to eat off the edge of buildings anymore! American transfer students had littered so much it became a law!

Snorting to yourself, you flipped the page.

But something warm pressed into your forearm, the most heated energy that sent shivers down your spine. It was comforting as it was ethereal. The second your body recognized the feeling, the Hero Lawbook went soaring across the room, and you grabbed your pen that was waiting at your side for ages now. 

Hi, sorry I’m just able to get back to you. I had a bunch of homework and friends who just let me leave them.

Smiling to yourself, you twirled the pen in your fingers and scribbled down your response:

It’s all good, I’ve been studying this entire time too, was just bored and didn’t respond to you earlier today!

Your soulmate theme was straightforward and quite comprehensive — it was dubbed the Forearm and Pen theme (you hated that theme). You could communicate with your soulmate by writing with the pen on your arm, but it only worked with that pen, nothing else.

The year you were to turn sixteen, you received a pen from literally out of the blue. You remember celebrating New Year with your class in your first year at U.A.; it had been an enjoyable night! Everything in life was still going fantastic, and your class was finally past the excellent friend’s point and felt like a genuine family. You remember hugging and telling everyone good night, still being fifteen at that point, and stumbling back to your room exhausted.

When you had gotten back to your room, you didn’t even undress; simply tugging off your pants and removing your bra, you threw yourself onto the bed. But you had landed on something stiff and painful, groaning your hands shuffled for whatever it was that you fell on, and when you grabbed it, you froze at the sight of the white box. 

Was this a gift?

Your entire life, you had always wondered if you did have a soulmate, most people you knew after all had soulmate markers that appeared since birth. But you were perfectly normal. You saw all colors; you had no shared pain; there was no tattoo, no mind link, no dream meetings.

Nothing.

You were normal.

Sighing, you opened the box, hoping that it was from someone you at the very least respected.

Inside was a silver pen.

You blinked your eyes rapidly, unsure of what you were looking at, there were no initials, no engraving, nothing. 

It was an exquisite pen, and despite what you thought, it was very, very light. Frowning, your fingers pushed down on the pen, but there was nothing that came out, was there no ink?

Shrugging, you dragged it against your arm feeling the way that the cool tip delicately massaged your arm. It felt nice.

“Holy shit!”

Your eyes saw the pretty grey silvery ink on your forearm. It stood out against your skin, the ink appearing nowhere else but your arm, and then it hit you.

This was for your soulmate!

With excitement tearing through you, your exhaustion no longer bitting on your skull, but the overwhelming need to know that this was for your soulmate shook you awake. Twirling the pen in your fingers, you couldn’t help but start writing.

OMG HI

You sat there staring at your forearm, unsure as to what to do next. What do you do next?

Hey?

If your heart could be anywhere but your chest, you were nearly positive it existed within your throat at this very moment. This was nervewracking, holy shit.

Sorry, you don’t know me, but I’m ___ ___.

You frowned when you tried to write your name, it was stopping you.

It seems that we do have some rules to this entire thing.

They responded back to you, and as if they could hear you, you groaned loudly.

This soulmate shit was already stopping your excitement, it seemed.

From that very first night, the two of you were able to discover a few things. First off, anything too personal was not allowed to be written out. So names, location, and gender were the biggest ones. Birthdays were not, and you were quick to find out that both of you were still fifteen. Second of all, just because you couldn’t figure out where exactly you both were located, you did manage to put together that you were both in Japan. Third of all, your soulmate was a Hero in Training just like you and was a male. Last, of all, you were quick to realize that you were in love with the way your body felt like it was gently warming up whenever he messaged you.

I think I deserve a round of applause.

You grinned after writing your sentence, your eyes watching while the warmth filled your body and his writing slowly appearing on your forearm.

Did you not forget anything today? I find that hard to believe.

You had to suppress a scream.

WELL, IT HAPPENED! I GOT EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO BRING BACK TO MY ROOM WITH ME!!

Weren’t you the one who forgot to bring your entire backpack to school the other day?

NO! I said I almost did, but my bestie got it for me!

How do you forget everything? I think you should try to make a list to make sure that you always have things you need for the day.

... I do… but I always lose the list, and im always running late…

You’re the worst…

Congrats bbg, I’m your soulmate

The world really doesn’t want to bless me with a good life, it seems…

HEY, THAT’S MEAN!

The two of you banter for what seems like hours, the night sky fading from blackness to the deep blue of the sky right before the sunrise. You had spent the entire night curled into your pillow, your face shoved into the soft fabric to suppress your chortling snorts because you geniunely enjoyed interacting with your soulmate. But it was late, and you both had classes early that next morning.

Okay, asshole, I need to sleep! I got this stupid test tomorrow that I did not study for. I'll write to ya tomorrow!! Goodnight!!!

Don’t be rude to your soulmate :( but goodnight, and good luck on that test, sorry for keeping you up.

Smiling at his words, you put the pen to your forearm one last time.

I will never ever accept your apology for making me stay up, I love talking with you, goodnight soulmate, sweet dreams.

You placed the pen down, your eyes fluttering close, heavy with sleep. But still, no exhaustion could suppress the fluttering warmth in your body when words appeared on your arm. 

Sweet dreams, soulmate.

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“Fuck, sorry,” you groaned when you sleepily slammed into the person standing in front of you. 

Blinking tiredness away from your eyes — poorly at that too — you focused up at Shouto. Grinning, you waved at your classmate, who looked almost as exhausted as you felt and definitely looked.

“It’s okay,” he nodded at you stepping to the side so that the two of you could walk side to side.

“You ready for that test today?” you asked after moments of silence.

You and Todoroki Shouto were not as close as you would like to be. Since day one, you had always had a thing for the duality of a man, and while it was mostly superficial feelings derived from the fact that he was attractive above anything else, it still made you awkward around him. At the time, your feelings were still holding you down, you always fully believed that you had no soulmate, so you thought maybe you could sweep him off his feet. It was rumored that his scar covered up his own soulmate mark, so there was no way for him to know who his soulmate was.

Selfishly and embarrassingly, you hoped that you could have him.

Then you met your soulmate, and things changed.

But now you and your classmates were all eighteen and held the world in your hands, yet you couldn’t speak to him usually still.

“There’s no test today?” Shouto stilled, his eyes narrowing in confusion, and your eyes screwed too.

“Isn’t it… Friday? We have a Hero Law test?”

“Y/l/n,” Shouto snorted a grin spreading across his features, “It’s Wednesday.”

If there was a god, he would shoot you right now.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment while you walked faster to the classroom, Shouto keeping up with your pace easily, he was taller than you after all.

“Shut up,” you warned, your gaze not reaching Shouto’s who was staring at you.

“I wasn’t speaking.”

“I could hear you thinking!”

Shouto put on a smirk, his eyes teasing you, and his mouth dropping to speak, but there was a loud interruption.

“Y/L/N-CHAAAANNNNNN!!!!”

Both of you turned to see Kaminari chasing after you, his arms waving, looking out of breath.

“YOU FORGOT YOUR JACKET AND TIE!”

Shouto chuckled beside you, and you stared down to see that you were, in fact, only wearing half of your uniform. If there’s a god, he will end you now, you thought.

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You're not serious right now, are you?

Going on three years of knowing your soulmate, or at the very least talking with him, you thought you had a good understanding of who he was. He was strong, powerful, and kind. He came off a bit standoffish at times but was the dumbest person you’ve ever known. Common sense was not his friend, and that was okay. 

Even at times when the two of you had your differing opinions because it did happen, it never snowballed more into a small annoyance that the two of you would apologize for and move on. But this was something that shouldn’t have had become a fight, it shouldn’t have been anything more potent than a difference of opinion, but when you suggested entertaining the thought of when the two of you would finally meet, he was uncharacteristically cold. 

Hurt by his tone, you told him, and he said you to grow up until it became this written fight.

Why couldn’t you talk about meeting?

Why didn’t he want to think about what would happen when the two of you would meet?

It was getting ugly for no reason, a fight just to fight, and it was making you nauseous.

But he crossed a line that couldn’t be fixed when he wrote a simple sentence:

Just because you’re my soulmate doesn’t mean I have to love you, meet you, or marry you.

So there you sat, your bottom lip trembling with tears streaking down your blotchy face. He wasn’t being serious, was he? There was no way… no fucking way this was him. The warmth that flooded your body with his new message felt ice-cold, poisoning you from the inside out while you read it.

You're my soulmate, but I have no obligation to do anything with you now or ever. The world chose you for me, not me. I didn’t choose you. I don’t owe you anything here. Soulmates are bullshit and don’t fucking bother messaging me again if you expect me to fall in love with you just because our “souls are connected”

It was needless to say that you didn’t respond back, not because you felt like he should love you because of your connected souls, but because your sobbing and broken emotions left you curled into a ball, ready for a sleepless slumber to take you.

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“You don’t look too hot,” Kaminari told you, hitting you with his foot when your bleary and puffy eyes stared at your best friend.

Kirishima and Mina, who were sitting beside him, elbowed him at the same time, berating him for his insensitive comment. You could feel Sero and Bakugou staring at you, their eyes concerned and curious. 

“What’s eating ya up?” Sero asked, and you found a rock-forming in your throat when you shrugged.

“Soulmate problems…”

“That was fucking obvious,” Bakugou rolled his eyes, taking a drink of his water. “Tell us the problem, not a stupid summary.”

Surprisingly that’s all it took for you to come undone, and you explained what happened with tears falling down your face and a sniffling nose. There was a lot to tell them about it, and you showed them the pen while explaining the entire story. They listened to every word you uttered, faces concern but taking in everything you said.

“You’re an idiot,” Bakugou spoke the second you were finished, his eye twitching while he glared at you. You swallowed thickly, placing the pen on the table while Bakugou edged closer towards you. “He’s not wrong, you know, stupid fucking soulmates are just this irrational solution to an irrational problem. Love is much more complex than that, and you don’t seem to have been fighting for him in that way either, sure you seem like good friends, but that doesn’t give you the right to expect him to love you. But he was a complete fucking dick about it, so I say kill him.”

Your — and all of the rest of your friend group — eyes widened at his words. With nothing to follow him up, you all continued to stare at him while he munched on his food.

“WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING EXTRAS LOOKING AT!”

“Is Bakugou a love expert?” Mina’s stage whispered to the group.

“He almost was, but then he said to kill y/n’s soulmate, so probably not anymore,” Kirishima responded back.

“SHUT THE HELL UP BEFORE I KILL YOU!”

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It took four days before the warm feeling shot through your body again.

Fuck, I'm really sorry, I was a complete fucking dick. I said a lot of things, and i didn’t mean to say I was angry and upset, and I know that you're upset, rightfully upset, but i don’t want to lose you.

No matter how long it took for him to get back to you, your heart squeezed with euphoria and poison, your hands moving to grab your pen in your pocket.

It wasn’t there.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

You tore apart your room, trying to find the silver pen but you couldn’t find it.

Stay as mad as you want, I just… please talk with me soon, even if it takes five days. I'm sorry, soulmate.

Frustrated tears poured down your face, nausea almost making you wheeze when you stared at the words you wanted to reply to.

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One day after he apologized:

Don’t want to bother you, just wanted to apologize again and say that I miss you, talk to you soon.

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Five days after he apologized:

I’m not really sure if this is normal or not… I'm not really… educated when it comes to romance and shit like that, especially when it comes to someone being upset with the other… my female classmates told me that I should expect a response from you soon. I'm really sorry, please write soon.

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So it seems that i’ve fucked up to the point of no return. I'm sorry, I miss you, I love you. Maybe one day I can reconvince you that I'm your soulmate for a good reason, but I guess I’ll have to work on that.

It had been fourteen days since he had apologized, and you sat in your room with tears streaming down your face. You wanted to respond back, but even fourteen days of tirelessly searching U.A.’s entire campus, ripping it stone by stone, there was no finding your pen. Every day without fail, he gave you an update of his day and another apology. Every day they got more hopeless, more pained.

This was his last message for a while, he needed time to work things out with himself now, the strain of this and graduation coming soon being too much to handle at the moment. 

Wiping your tears for what felt like the hundredth time within this past twenty minutes, you stood up on your wobbly legs to go downstairs for water. You were dehydrated and absolutely needed to get out for both fresh air and water.

Walking down the stairwell with swollen eyes, you groaned when you slammed into a body when you opened the door to the common area. 

Shouto blinked down at you, and you felt your throat clampdown at the pained look in his own eyes.

“Have you been—”

“Are you—”

You both spoke over each other, and despite the horrid feeling coursing through your bones, you cracked a smile.

“I’m getting water,” you explained with a shrug. “Long night ya know, just needed to replenish my system so I can cry some more.”

Shouto stared at you, and with horror, you realized precisely what you had said.

“Oh my god, ignore me!” you squeak, covering your face trying to move past him, but Shouto seemed to be curious now and followed after you.

“What’s making you cry?” he asked while you rush to the fridge to get your glass of water.

“What’s got you upset?” you counter downing the cup of water.

Shouto sighed, leaning against the counter of the island in the kitchen. “Would it be weird to say its soulmate issues?”

Swallowing the water in your mouth, you shook your head, a tired smile on your face, “Embarrassingly enough, my issue is also with soulmate stuff.”

A joyless chuckle escaped his mouth, and Shouto’s head tilted backward. You studied his jaw and the way his body seemed tense, too tense.

“What happened?” you press gently standing next to him, shouldering him gently.

“I fucked up, and now my soulmate won’t talk with me,” he says slowly, his head nodding while he glances at you. “I guess telling your soulmate you don’t want them is a bad thing.”

You snorted, nodding your head in agreement, “It’s not just a bad thing, its a super fucked up thing.”

Shouto sighed in agreement, and there was silence when you took another drink of your water.

“I didn’t know you were in contact with your soulmate, though,” you smile wistfully, your hand twirling the cup on the counter. “How’d you meet them?”

“I actually don’t know who they are,” Shouto admitted with pursed lips, and your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I have that soulmate thing where you write on your arm, and they can read it.”

Showing off his arm, you glanced at the pale skin. You nodded your head when he pulled out a silver pen that looked similar to yours.

“Well,” you shrug your shoulders, motioning him to write. “I’m no expert, but let’s see if I can help you get your soulmate to forgive you.”

“T-They haven’t responded to me in two weeks…” Shouto’s voice cracks, and the number burns a hole through your stomach. “I’ve written every day, but no answer. I don’t really know what to do, and all the girls in the class don’t really know what to do. Bakugou also said to go fuck myself over it, so I don’t think I really have had any help.”

Ignoring the twisting in your stomach, you willed your weirdness away to shuffle in your seat, “Well, you haven’t asked me, asshole, come on, let’s see what I can do.”

Shouto chuckles, his head nodding, “That is true, but to be fair, you’ve been anywhere, but in the dorm these past few weeks.”

“I lost something,” you mutter embarrassed, but you shake away your problems and point at his wrist. “Write an apology.”

You watched when he wrote, the words expressing his apology and love seeping through the silvery ink on his wrist. You told him to add things to delete things, but in the end, it ended up feeling like a genuine and sincere apology. You watched his pen leave his skin and a warmth shot through your arm. 

Shivering, you looked at your arm, trying to see what your soulmate had written to you even though he said he was going to stop.

The words he wrote appeared on your skin.

Your eyes widened when you stared at Shouto, who was also staring at your arm. 

Your eyes met in an almost world-altering way. This entire time, for three whole years, the two of you had been by each other and never knew. Midnight conversations wasted through ink instead of face to face. Your heart hammered in your throat, and tears once again poured from your eyes when you both stood at full height, staring at each other.

Todoroki Shouto was your soulmate — he was yours, and you were his.

“I’m so sorry, y/n, I don’t know what happened to me. You didn’t deserve that, and fuck, I’m so sorry—”

“I lost my pen, and I couldn’t respond back, I forgave you, but I had no way of reaching back! But I was always forcing myself onto you—”

You both interrupted the other, and now you stared at each other, drinking in the presence of each other and belittling yourselves for not knowing sooner; looking at it now, it was just so obvious. You can’t help it and pull him into a hug. His strong arms wrap around you, and you can hear his hammering heart on your ear, and it fills you up with the familiar warmth when he writes you. This seemed to be a brush of luck it seems.

“Can I kiss you, soulmate.”

“Please do.”

[amintyworld]

Sixteen - Dream SMP Drabble

A/N: Based off of @tittybitch’s headcannon on why both Tommy and Tubbo were child soldiers, with the new info Wilbur dropped a while ago on Tubbo and Tommy’s ages when he wrote about them for the Dream SMP - twenty. What if Tommy and Tubbo lied about their ages to Wilbur in order to become soldiers in the First Independence War?

TW: Major Character Death, murder, lying/breaking laws, drug mention, child soldiers, cursing. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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When Tommy had fallen into the water, staining it crimson red with a large arrow in his chest, Tubbo had screamed, rushing over. The soldier fell to his knees as Tommy’s items simply began to float towards the surface.  Wilbur’s head bowed in respect at his right-hand man, his gaze lingering toward the floor a bit longer than normal. Tommy was a good man, he’d made his choice, this choice, in order to save their nation and he stood by it. That was something even the L’manburg General could admit was admirable. Dream walked up to him.

“So you will disband L’manburg, and Tommy’s discs will be given to me?”

“That was the deal.” Wilbur breathed, putting a comforting hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, who hadn’t moved from his place on the ground, just staring at the mass of items and bloody water. “Alright men, let’s head out with our dignity and honor.”

“No…” Tubbo whispered to himself, his hands gripping the floor as he shook with pure emotion. “No! You don’t get to just brush past this! Dream killed Tommy, he killed him- and… and you’re just gonna give up?!”

“Tubbo, this duel was not our decision or our plan, you know that.”

“Our decision?!” Tubbo snapped, sitting up and getting in the face of his commanding officer. “Our DECISION?! He was sixteen, Wilbur! Sixteen!”

Wilbur’s eyes focused solely on Tubbo’s as he began to calm down, beginning to process what exactly his soldier had said. Sixteen. Tommy Innit, his right-hand man, a fellow soldier who amounted more than his fair share of injuries thus far, someone who just died for their country in a duel… was sixteen years old. A teenager. A kid. Anger boiled within his chest and stomach. “What?”

Tubbo’s eyes tried to avoid the General’s increasingly intense stare. “Oh, you… uh… I’m sorry, Wilbur - I didn’t mean to just go off like that, you know sometimes I just say stuff that just comes off the top of my head, it’s… it’s uh… crazy-!”

“Tubbo, I’m going to ask this once and only once, so listen to me very closely…” Wilbur rested his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, using the other to tilt his chin up to look at him. Tubbo gulped as he could feel his heart drop looking at how angry Wilbur was becoming. “How old is Tommy Innit?”

Tommy swore Tubbo to secrecy, he made him promise to never, ever, ever tell a soul how old they really were, not even through torture or death. Tommy told him that they’d be ruined if they told anyone their real ages, never taken seriously, and constantly looked down upon. Dream already thought of them as less than him, being children… teenagers, would only make it worse. They were so much more than just teenagers, and they were both so determined to prove how capable they were, how much they could do.

But now Tommy was dead, he saw his best friend die before his eyes and it all became too real. There was so much more they both wanted to do...they were only sixteen, he was only sixteen. This stupid lie that Tommy convinced him was better to tell than the truth could end up costing them their lives. Though it was selfish and cowardly, Tubbo didn’t want to die, he didn’t want Tommy to die. Not yet. Not now.

“Soldier, answer me.”

Tubbo’s throat turned dry as he took a deep breath, the words ‘Not yet’ echoing in his head. “Sixteen.”

Wilbur kneeled down to be more level with the fellow soldier, moving to gently grab both of his arms, his face looking more sympathetic, pitiful. “Yeah? And… and what about you, soldier?”

“I’m sixteen years old, sir.”

Wilbur nodded to himself, still trying to wrap his head around this fact when Fundy piped up from the corner. “Dad, Tommy’s respawned.” Anger and sadness fought in a tangled mess in Wilbur’s stomach as he stood once more. 

“Right, men. Let’s go pay a visit to our fallen brother in arms. I have a feeling he’ll need it. Move out.” Fundy walked off quickly with Tubbo trailing behind him, his gaze focused on the ground, both of them silent. Dream and his posse were mostly gone already, not bothering to witness the fallout except for Sapnap and Eret. 

Eret’s crown weighed heavy on his head - he betrayed two teenagers, as well as a son and a father to earn this, to earn his crown and his place on the throne. They were kids, they were a family. “Look, Wilbur I-”

“Tommy’s dead, Eret. It’s over, you won. Congrats.” Wilbur crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at Eret intensely. “Look, no matter what happened today, no matter who won what - if I see you within five feet of Fundy, Tubbo, or Tommy, you’ll fucking regret it. I think they’ve suffered enough because of you.” 

-----------------------------------------------

When Tommy opened his eyes and the soreness and tiredness took over him, a feeling that he remembered vividly, all he wanted was to curl in on himself and cry. He was ashamed of himself, of that stupid stupid duel - now L’manburg would never get their freedom, and it was all his fault. All because he couldn’t land one arrow. Trying to distract himself from the guilt that weighed on his heart, he moved, wincing at the small pricks of pain spread throughout his body, and opened up the chest near his bed, grabbing some bandages and health potions to help heal him and numb some of the pain. 

With a heavy heart, he hesitated for a moment, taking off his L’manburg coat, knowing it would probably be the last time he’d do so. He ran his hands over the stitching to try and commit it all to memory, in some weird effort to not let L’manburg die. He fought so hard to protect it, yet he killed it with his own hands. He let out a defeated sigh, piling the coat and his hat on top of his chest, moving to take care of the nasty scarring around his chest where Dream had shot him.

He didn’t expect anyone to visit him, let alone Wilbur. The General entered with his hands behind his back, deep in thought, thinking behind his eyes. Tubbo rushed over, nearly crashing into him. “Tommy!”

“Woah, Woah, Woah big man.” Tommy smiled at the sight of his friend, wrapping an arm around him a bit of an embrace. “Thanks for the worry, but I’m still sore-”

“Oh, right, right - sorry.” Tubbo sheepishly added, pulling away from the tight hug he had around his best friend’s middle, moving to sit beside him. 

“I...uhm… didn’t expect all of you to be here.”

Fundy walked over, a cloth and a gleaming bottle in his hand. “Here, I just brewed from regen if you need it, it’ll be a lot better than those health pots. A hit like that’ll need lots of healing, that’s for sure.” Tommy’s eyes furrowed at the weird sadness Fundy’s face held, how he seemed like he was forcing a smile. It was weird to see someone act tense around him, and Wilbur’s silence definitely was NOT helping.

“Uh… thanks, Fundy.”

“I’m just glad you’re alright - With your injuries, we weren’t sure you were going to respawn.”

Tommy smirked, moving to take the potion and cloth from the fox hybrid, popping the cork off. “Please, nothing that green bastard could do could ever keep me down.” He took a sip of the potion, the dull and numb sensation traveling throughout his body and slowly melting away any lingering pricks of pain. Laughter echoed from both Tubbo and Fundy, enjoying the slight sense of normalcy. 

“Tommy?” Wilbur walked toward the three who sat around or on the bed, his eyes flicking back and forth, looking like he wanted to say something but he didn’t know what to say.

“Sir?” Tommy looked up at the General, sitting up straight almost on instinct at this point. Tommy had never seen Wilbur like this in his entire life, never seen his General this conflicted, this unsure of something. “...Wilbur?”

“I…” Wilbur swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. “I know, Tommy.” Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you and Tubbo hid from me, I know you’re not twenty.” Tommy’s eyes flicked over toward Tubbo, who wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“You don’t know shit.” Tommy spat. 

“Tommy, I told him.” Tubbo spilled out, clinging on to his best friend’s arm like it was a lifeline.

“Tubbo you promised, you looked me in the eyes and you promised me, you swore to me, not even with death-!”

“I thought...I don’t want you to die, Tommy!” Tubbo finally looked up toward his friend, and Tommy finally saw the distress in his eyes. “You have one life left. ONE. You’re my best friend, I…” Tubbo could see the hurt in Tommy’s eyes, and his gaze fell back on the bedsheets in shame. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Tommy took a deep breath, looking at his best friend, then turned toward Wilbur. “So, I guess all those ‘child’ jokes were true, innit?” He glared at the other two in the room. “Come on, out with it then. Tell me how reckless and immature I am. Tell me I never took any of this seriously, how I doomed and destroyed everything because I’m just a ‘stupid child’.” Tommy’s hands gripped into fists, getting up from the bed, angry at the silence. “Come on, just DO IT ALREADY!”

“You’re not a stupid child, Tommy.”

“Don’t you dare fucking pity me-”

“Pity you?! PITY YOU?!” Wilbur exclaimed. “Do you honestly think I would do that? Do you think after everything you’ve done, I pity you?”

“What?”

“Tommy, you’ve dedicated yourself to L’manburg, you put your life on the line for it and were willing to risk your discs for its freedom. That’s earned my respect, however old you are.” Wilbur looked between Tommy and Tubbo. “I wish you would’ve told me, I could’ve been able to protect you from all of this. You wouldn’t have had to fight this war, it’s not yours to fight. Not yet.”

“You know without me or Tubbo you wouldn’t have fared as well with Dream’s army. You needed help, we wanted to fight.” Tommy’s voice was no longer angry but tired. “I don’t regret it, Wilbur.”

“But you’re… you’re both kids, you’re...fuck, what have I done?!” Wilbur cursed under his breath. 

“What you had to.” Tubbo’s voice was soft in its reply. Silence passed through the room as Wilbur moved toward both of the teens, shaking his head.

“No, no no no, there was another way, you shouldn’t have- you both should have never had to go through any of this, never been on the battlefield or running for your life. You shouldn’t have had to make those calls, you should’ve just enjoyed being kids instead of getting dragged into my mess...my war. I put you through that - if it wasn’t torture enough to put my own son in that position…”

“If you know me at all, Wil, you know I wouldn’t just sit by and watch. L’manburg… this place… it’s so much more than just a place. You and I started our first drug trades here, you made me feel important, you made me feel a part of something, instead of some kind of prick that everyone just wants to go away. You’ve all had my back, you’re all my friends… this is my home.”

Tubbo sat up to stand beside Tommy with a small hopeful smile. “Our home.”

“Our home.” Tommy echoed. “We needed… no, we wanted to protect it, no matter what. So I don’t regret this at all, Wilbur. Even if we lost. I don’t regret a damn thing.” 

At that moment, no truer words had ever been spoken.

[poptod]

Congrats for finishing ur exams! Hope u have time for relaxing in summer :) if u take ficreqs & this is topic ur comfortable writing for I'll have an ask: Kenny having/going thru some body image issues (it came to my mind when in season 2 he was going out w/Dylan he was fussing w/his shirt & being like is it too tight etc.)

Notes: thank u!! honestly its kinda nice to b able to project my own eating disorders on a fictional character lmao. thats twisted as fuck of me. warnings: eating disorders, homophobia, the whole rundown lmao. the reader in this is kind of dumb as fuck but well-informed so do with that what you will WC: 1.4k

+

It happened over the summer.

No one else noticed, but you did. He stopped wearing his big shirts, and the smaller ones now hung over his frame in wrinkles too big for his body. His jaw strengthened, his eyes steely, and his words remained sweet, if not awkward, as ever.

You've talked to him a couple times, but never for long, and his interactions with teenagers as popular as you are are limited and uncomfortable. On his part, he doesn't really know you personally––only as a sort of monarch to a high school. This image of you leaves him stuttering as you trap him against the lockers, surrounded by the silence of a vacant school.

"Wh - what are you –"

"Quiet," you say, glancing up to meet his frantic gaze.

The heat of his stomach moving with rough breaths warms your hands, sliding up his shirt to pull away the fabric and reveal the bare skin. His ribs are showing. From experience you know they didn't use to, but you can't deny the excitement that rushes through you at the sight of his thin waist unobstructed by clothing.

"How'd you lose weight?" You ask, withdrawing your hands from his midsection while keeping him stuck between lockers and you. You had never claimed to be anything but straightforward, almost violently so.

He shifts his weight on his feet, shoulders tensing till they reach his ears.

"Why do you care? You don't even know me," he says with a glare focused on the floor beside you.

"Your name is Khaleel but everyone calls you Kenny because people are dickbags, and you're always hanging out with that Larry kid. And I know for a fact you weren't this skinny," you say, tugging the belt of his loose pants to peer down.

"Don't," he grits out, and he writhes in your grasp, attempting to escape.

Seeing his discomfort, you withdraw your hand once more, and look him in the eye.

"I've seen things like this before," you say, boring into the soul behind his own eyes. "I've been this thing before. Tell me how you did it."

"I..." he pauses, searching your expression for any give in your request, before he gives up with a sigh. "I stopped eating meals for a week."

"Why?" You ask in a much softer tone than your previous, your fingers brushing over his unsteady hands.

"I hate how I look," he admits in a broken voice, eyes tinted red as tears form on the edges. "I'm sick of being unattractive and unwanted. I just wanted to be appealing to someone, for once."

"You're wanted," you say, beginning with a much-needed assurance. "High school is absolute ass and everything that happens in it has nearly no affect on your life. You're going to grow up, and you're going to find cities full of people who want to kiss you. The effects of purposeful starvation on your body and mind are not worth this temporary conformity to the American beauty standard."

Now he just looks confused. You sigh, exasperated by kids who don't seem to get your line of thinking pertaining to society and its expectations of adults and teenagers.

"This is such a small part of your life that can be so deeply enjoyed if you do it right. Don't ruin it with this," you say, and your own voice cracks, strained by the tension stuck in your throat. "You're never going to be skinny enough for this disease. Not even if you're ten pounds."

These words––they're all birthed by what you wish someone had told you. What would've stopped you from doing this to yourself.

The tears long building round his eyes fall at last, creating streams down his cheeks that he covers up by hiding his face in his hands. He falls into you, leaning his weight on your body, and hiding his face (which is still hidden in his hands) in the crook of your neck. Knuckles of his fingers dig into the sensitive skin there, but it is no hard task to ignore it.

You wrap your arms around the boy, holding him tight to you and running your fingers through his hair. Chest to chest, hips to hips, legs nearly stepping over one another. Muffled sobs wrack his weakened shoulders.

"I know," you whisper. It's all the sound you can manage. "It's alright. I know."

"I just wanna be wanted," he chokes out, shifting to hide himself deeper in your touch.

"You already are," you say in a hum, turning to kiss his temple.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "No, no, my parents don't even want me. No one does."

"What do you mean your parents don't want you?" You ask as a deep concern settles itself within you.

He won't pull away, and as much as you want to see his expressions, you know he needs your touch more than anything in this moment.

"I haven't seen them in weeks, they won't let me back into the house. I don't know what I did wrong. I don't..." he trails off as a new burst of tears shivers throughout his body, weakening his already frail limbs.

"They kicked you out?" You ask.

"... yeah," he says, sniffing.

His hands finally leave his tear-covered face, and he wraps them around you as tight and close as he can, shifting his head to the side to truly lie on your shoulder, with his nose nudging your neck. His hands cling to the back of your shirt, nails almost digging into your back as his tears soak your shoulder.

"Adults aren't infallible," you say, your own words now muffled as your chin rests on the crest of his head. "One day they'll realize their mistake, and they'll want you more than anything."

He goes quiet for a while, still sniffling, before he says in a trembling voice, "but I want to be desired now. I don't understand why no one wants me."

"I actually know for a fact that someone in the school very much wants you," you say without hesitation. You can't be the only one who sees how sweet this guy is.

"Really?" He sniffs and pulls away, but his hands linger on your waist. "Who?"

Your mind pulls a blank before it hits you like a trainwreck––it's you. You're the one that wants him. Maybe you are the only one to see him at all, and that realization leaves you stumped. Could you so plainly tell him? Would that be taking advantage of him in his state?

Whatever, you think, still staring blankly ahead as Kenny awaits your answer. This guy needs a pick-me-up.

"It's... me," you say in your most awkward voice since middle school. You cringe inwardly. It's like you're giving him bad news.

His mouth falls open, and he stares at you like you're the only thing to look at in the whole world.

"With..." he jabs himself in the chest with his own finger as he points to himself, ".. me?"

"That is what I just said, yes," you say, nodding.

He tries to stutter out a sentence, something along the lines of why, and you hardly want to hear what he has to say. None of it is going to be true. It's all muck about him not being worth it, and as he grows more frantic, you know you have to calm him down yourself.

Your eyes shut and you lean in blindly, having memorized his face from lunches spent staring at him from a table across the room. Lips mould to his and the words fizzle out, devolving into soft whines as the tail end of his sobbing dies out, suffocated by his first kiss.

He leans into you once more, resting his unsure hands gingerly upon your shoulders. You take his wrists, never parting from his lips as you pull him nearer, till his elbows rest on your shoulders and he holds you closer than before. When his hands tangle into your hair unprompted, you hum, fall, and pin him back against the lockers.

"Hey!"

Someone is shouting at you from down the hallway. You sigh and part from him, turning with a blasé look to meet one of the teachers.

"No making out in the hallway," she scolds but says nothing more, continuing to walk into the next room.

You turn back to Kenny and he's bright red, looking horrified with himself.

"Oh my God," he whispers out as his hands shake ever so slightly.

"It's alright," you murmur, too close to him to stand anything else. You kiss his forehead before you continue, "it's not a big deal. It's alright."

You pull away, looking him in the eye as you say, "come to my house?"

He hesitates.

"I'll make you something to eat. You don't have to eat a lot," you offer.

"... yeah," he says, and nods, looking up to meet your eye. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

08.

where do we go from here

“Dorms, huh?”

“Yes,” nodded the green-haired boy, staring at his drink – affogato that you prepared. “it’s to ensure the safety of the students tenfold, considering the recent events.”

Nodding, eyes watched the scars on Izuku’s gentle hands – from when he was trying to figure out his quirk, trailing up to the burn he keeps hidden on his left arm – one caused by someone.

“I can imagine Auntie Inko wasn’t overboard with the idea?”

Izuku shifted in his seat, fingers stirring the straw of his drink. “She wanted me to transfer, because of how much I’ve been through…”

“I can’t blame her,” you nod again – there was USJ, and then there was this. “then again, it was something you couldn’t control and not really the school’s fault.”

“It’s what I told her, but she was adamant on keeping me safe. She’s a mom, after all.” That made you smile, Auntie Inko was really protective of Izuku ever since Uncle Hisashi worked abroad.

“A-Also, A-All Might convinced her,”

(E/c) eyes widened. “W-Wow…”

The All Might was at Izuku’s? Informing Auntie Inko of the dorm system and convincing her to have his apprentice stay at UA?

Izuku must be that special for the Symbol of Peace, his biggest idol, to keep him in UA.

“That’s amazing, Izuku.” Scoffing, you broke into an easy grin. “Isn’t that great, you get to stay in UA, got convinced to stay by the All Might, and you still have a chance to live his legacy.”

“(N-Nickname)!” With your praises, red flushes his cheeks and his arms flounder in the air, much to your amusement, before they ended up wrapped around his head protectively.

Everything changing again, huh?

With the dorms, students of UA will be granted and ensured of their safety as they’ll be living within the school’s premise. Really, they were doing so much just to give their students, future heroes, the very best that they deserve.

Still, it would be kind of lonely to have Izuku away.

Carmine eyes suddenly crossed your mind. The soft look on his face. The smell of burnt sugar. His warm rough hands.

“Neh, Izuku,” arms stretched out, head dropping down, your voice was quiet. “how is he?”

Drink long gone, he swallowed the sweet concoction down his throat, relishing in its sweetness and bitterness. He studied you for a bit, noting the glint in your eyes, how it was much different from before whenever Kacchan brought up.

Tapping his fingers, he carefully shared. “For starters, he’s safe. But somehow, he’s the same as ever.” Fingers twitched slightly at that, curling in slowly. “That much I can tell.” Brows furrowing slightly, especially when you recalled the relief in those carmine eyes, with something else.

The League of Villains.

They kidnapped Bakugou because he was top of their class, an easy target to play with considering his rather volatile streak that might bode well with villains.

“League of Villains,” you try, testing the weight of the villain group in your mouth. Izuku fell silent.

You didn’t like it. It felt dangerous, bitter, terrifying-

“I-It’s about your parents…”

Releasing a shuddering breath, you slumped into the table, forcing the numbing thoughts away. That is until a hand wrapped over yours, giving a gentle squeeze. You squeezed back, as thanks.

“(Nickname),” at the call of your name, you look up, meeting gentle green – brighter than emeralds, opals, more soothing that viridian or moss. “when you get the chance, talk to Kacchan. Okay?”

Carmine eyes crossed your mind again, the shocked expression turning gentle. Burnt sugar filling your senses. The fluttering beating of his heart.

“Little did you know, I’ve already had one.”

He hummed. “Yes, but you know what I’m talking about.” He says kindly, almost teasingly. You rolled your eyes at that.

“By the way,” recovering, you sat up, hands still in his. “you’re currently working on your ultimate move, right?” he nods “Well, need some help with that?”

Puzzled, it took about a few seconds until the questions sank. “Y-You don’t mean…!?”

Giggling, toothily grinning at your best friend, your eyes flashed yellow. “I might not look like much, but at least I can give a few pointers and wisdom. Also, I hope you’re okay with extra hours- “

“Of course! I’ll be in your care, (Nickname)!” he replies almost immediately, face filled with so much excitement to finally see you use your quirk at its full potential.

Mentally thinking of the days you’re not working, but hey, this was all for a good cause. “Looking forward to it, Izuku~”

Taking a break from work, you felt your phone vibrate, seeing a text from Izuku. 

To: (Nickname)

From: Izuku

[image.txt]

I PASSED MY PROVISIONAL LICENSE!!!!!!!!!!!

You couldn’t help the smile breaking on your lips, threatening to split your face in half from sheer joy and pride for your best friend. He did it!

All those days mastering his Shoot Style while dealing with your rather whimsical and unpredictable fighting really paid off!

  From: (Nickname)

To: Izuku

Congrats, you!

I’m so fcking proud of you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Let’s celebrate, okay? Just drop by the café!

You were tempted to ask if Bakugou had passed as well, debating even to give him a text. Fingers tapped lighting through your contacts, scrolling to find his name, staring. Just staring.

Shaking hands fisting against his shirt, nose buried between his shoulder blades, taking in his scent- You locked your phone, exhaling through your nose as you closed your eyes.

“You’re being unfair to him, (Nickname).”

Just then an unknown number called you.

It had been All Might.

All Might.

The Symbol of Peace.

He had called you, urging you to come to the UA campus at the dead of night for something he wouldn’t enclose over the phone. The hero had managed to work things out for your entry into the premise, albeit, discreetly, since it’s past working hours after all.

“So, you’re Young Midoriya’s good friend, yes?” the said hero was tall, so freaking tall! Even in his skeletal form, he loomed over you like a skyscraper, and his voice was commanding, firm, yet kind.

Remembering he had asked you a question, you fumbled for a reply. “A-Ah, yes sir!” Still, to be in his presence was something. Now you understood why Izuku fanboys hard – there were so many emotions to contain!

“I’ve heard a great deal about you, Young Midoriya speaks very highly of you.” That made you duck your head, a fond smile on your lips. “It’s clear that it is a bond forged greatly through careful means.”

“That, it is.” It was a rather poetic way of putting it, but yeah.

“With that being said, I’m sure you’re also acquainted with Young Bakugou, right?”

You nearly tripped on your own footing, halting at that, glancing up in question. “Y-Yes…” Carmine eyes, the smell of burnt sugar, warm calloused hands, suddenly filled your senses.

“In the short time that I’ve known them, I’ve also come to an understanding that the boys have a rather complicated relationship,” you gulp, for some reason. “they’re both on equal footing, yet it’s not very evident to both of them. They balance each other out perfectly.” He’s not wrong, you thought, hands curling and uncurling into fists.

“W-What are you trying to say?”

Turning to you, you realized that you reached some sort of building – it was huge, almost spanning the size of USJ! maybe it was a training ground? – the hero’s gaze wasn’t one of All Might’s, his gaze was soft, weary, understanding, guilt, and, dare you say, hopeful?

“Those boys have the makings to be a great hero, are each other’s greatest rivals yet they can be each other’s greatest ally if only pushed right.”

That was an idea you would never have thought of, but one you refused to acknowledge.

Before you could ask, suddenly, your senses went on full blast – (e/c) eyes turning yellow.

Heavy blasts from afar. Devastation followed. Heavy breathing. The smell of fire- no, angered explosions. Fully mapping out the vicinity, you found two presence were at the heart of it all. These heartbeats. Izuku? Bakugou?

“As expected, your senses indeed sharpen at night.”

Confused, angered, you turned to him, yellow eyes glinting in the moonlight. “WHY DID YOU BRING ME HERE!?” Their breathing, it was erratic, labored, abnormal, what was happening!?

He could only stare, expression betraying nothing. “I think I need to give the young boys some time to talk before I do it myself.”

“And what am I, some spectator?”

“I’m sure there’re things you would want to say to them as well, Young Yuroichi.”

Was what he said, but walking into the battlefield, having watched two of your childhood friends going out on each other, talking with their fists, kicks, and quirks, leaving bruised and battered, you could only feel one thing – numb.

With the fight over, your two childhood friends sat back on the asphalt ground, weary and exhausted out – physically and emotionally.

“Who else knows?” asked the ash blond, head hanging low with both arms propped against his knees.

“Recovery Girl, the principal, and…”

Apparently, that was your cue to make your presence known.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, the two boys raised their heads, eyes widening at the sight of you, in their campus, dead at night, eyes still in its dangerous yellow.

“A-ARE YOU TWO FUCKING KIDDING ME!?

They flinched at the volume of your voice, as though you bellowed it with all the air in your lungs, coming out from the shadows after All Might’s speech, knowing that it wasn’t your place to be there, but after hearing Bakugou’s voice – that was pathetic of him, even the hero hadn’t expected that.

“Y-Young Yoruichi-“

“Don’t,” the hero flinched at your voice, pinning him with your stare “get me started you skeletal excuse of a hero!” you say to him angrily, bitingly, forgetting that this man was the Symbol of Peace, the greatest hero of this generation, the hero who could easily do away with you, and the greatest hero to your two asshole of childhood friends.

“(N-Nickname)…”

Giving him a warning look, deadlier under the moonlight with your yellow eyes shining, Izuku knew better than to gulp and avoid your gaze. You then turned the same look to Bakugou, whose shoulders sagged underneath your gaze, a sense of defeat washing over him. He’s already bad in your book, he might’ve worsened it in this situation.

He was walking on thin ice, treading on it really should he wish to fix it.

“A-Ah, K-Kacchan just wanted to talk s’all, (Nickname)! B-but it ended up…um, uh…” words were failing him, especially when you are at the receiving end. Unamused. Unfazed. Unrelenting. Angered. Not even All Might could help out, too scared to deal with an angry teenager. “…uh…i-it ended with our fists….?”

Izuku had been quick to his defense, much to the surprise and annoyance of the blond. But you weren’t having it.

“Stop making excuses for him, Izuku. You’re better than that.” The green-haired boy flinched, hands dropping in defeat. “He should well know to defend himself instead of beating himself down for it, which is a far cry from that proud pompous asshole we’re both familiar with.” The ash blond’s fingers twitched at your words.

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled slowly out your nose. “You two haven’t had a proper talk since and you thought of doing it now with your fucking fists and kicks? What’re you, animals!?”

Having watched their fight and taking into account the months they’ve been in UA, seeing their performance during the Sports Festival, and hearing accounts of progress from Izuku, Aizawa-san, and the Bakugous, the two clearly have changed.

After all this time, you still felt so far from the two.

After all this time, it pained you still to see a drift between your best friends.

After all this time, just seeing finally talk to each other – in the shittiest way of their own version, it was all you ever wanted.

After all this time, the only thing you wanted was for them to finally see eye-to-eye.

After all this time, you just wanted the two to be friends again.

Weakly you fell to your knees, arms reaching for both and bringing them to a hug. The two boys were stunned, to say the least.

“I’m so glad.” Tears began to spill, your hold tightening. “I was worried about you two so much, you know. You two are selfish, stubborn, and terribly reckless in your own ways, but you two are the strongest persons I know.”

Izuku can be so out of reach sometimes, especially when he’s trying to embody himself as the current One for All user.

Bakugou had always been so far from your reach, but it pains you to know that he had been feeling shitty because he didn’t know just how to deal with his emotions.

It made you feel like the worst friend.

“You have to be more honest with how you’re feeling,”

You say you wanted to support Izuku? Part of the deal was respecting his wishes when it came to a certain ash blond he’s admired next to All Might, the person who was the embodiment of victory for him, someone he’d like to catch up with.

But you let confusing emotions – like a stupid crush and hate, cloud over your judgments.

“I’m sorry if I won’t be able to understand if I’ll have to beat it outta you guys, i-if…” hiccupping, your hold slackened momentarily, before tightening. “I’m sorry if I’m such a horrible friend. I’ll try to do more, be better for you guys. So please, don’t ever forget that…okay?”

“(Nickname)…”

A tentative hand reached out, hesitant as it patted your back. Seeing as you didn’t flinch away, the hand awkwardly rubbed comforting circles as you cried harder.

Seeing this, the green-haired teen smiled, relishing in your hug, the pain from Kacchan’s attacks, and the wisdom from his mentor.

“Okay.”

All Might could only watch three youngsters settling amongst themselves, as all friends should.

“Okay, (Name).”

masterlist • nine