#this has been sitting in my drafts almost finished for like a year or something

[dresshistorynerd]

So I got this tag on my answer to an ask about when it became acceptable for western women to wear pants, and you know it's all I need to go on a tangent.

I think the short answer here would be men have worn skirts as long as people have worn anything, so pretty long tbh. But since I am incapable of answering anything shortly, I think we can re-frame this question:

When did skirts stop being socially acceptable for men?

So let's start with acknowledging that tunics, togas, kirtles and such men wore through history were, in fact, skirts. I think there's often a tendency to think of these as very different garments from those that women wore, but really they are not. Most of the time they were literally referred to with the same name. (I will do a very broad and simplified overview of men's clothing from ancient times to Early Middle Ages so we can get to the point which is Late Middle Ages.)

Ancient Greek men and women both wore chitons. Even it's length wasn't determined by gender, but by occupation. Athletes, soldiers and slaves wore knee-length chitons for easier movement. Roman men and women wore very similar garment, tunics. Especially in earlier ancient Rome long sleeves were associated with women, but later became more popular and unconventional for men too. Length though was still dependent on occupation and class, not gender. Toga was sure men's clothing, but worn over tunic. It was wrapped around the waist, like a dress would, and then hung over shoulder. Romans did wear leggings when they needed to. For example for leg protection when hunting as in this mosaic from 4th century. They would have been mostly used by men since men would be doing the kinds of activities that would require them. But that does not lessen the dressyness of the tunics worn here. If a woman today wears leggings under her skirt, the skirt doesn't suddenly become not a skirt.

All over Europe thorough the early Middle Ages, the clothes were very similar in their basic shape and construction as in Rome and Greece. In Central and Northern Europe though people would wear pants under shorter tunics. There were exceptions to the everyone wearing a tunic trend. Celtic men wore braccae, which were pants, and short tunics and literally just shirts. Celts are the rare case, where I think we can say that men didn't wear dresses. Most other peoples in these colder areas wore at least knee-length tunics. Shorter tunics and trousers were worn again mostly by soldiers and slaves, so rarely any other woman than slave women. The trousers were though definitely trousers in Early Middle Ages. They were usually loose for easier construction and therefore not that similar to Roman leggings. However leggings style fitted pants were still used, especially by nobility. I'd say the loose trousers are a gray area. They wore both dresses and pants, but still definitely dresses. I'd say this style was very comparable to the 2000s miniskirts over jeans style. First one below is a reconstruction of Old Norse clothing by Danish history museum. The second is some celebrity from 2005. I see no difference.

When we get to the high Middle Ages tunics are still used by both men and women, and still it's length is dependent on class and activity more than gender, but there's some new developments too. Pants and skirt combo is fully out and leggings' are back in in form of hose. Hose were not in fact pants and calling them leggings is also misleading. Really they are socks. Or at least that's how they started. As it has become a trend here they were used by everyone, not just men. During early Middle Ages they were worn often with the trousers, sometimes the trousers tucked inside them making them baggy. In high Middle Ages they became very long when used with shorter tunics, fully displacing the need for trousers. They would be tied to the waist to keep them up, as they were not knitted (knitting was being invented in Egypt around this time, and some knitting was introduced to Europe during middle Ages, but it really only took off much later during Renaissance Era) and therefore not stretchy. First picture is an example of that from 1440s. Another exciting development in the High Medieval era was bliaut in France and it's sphere of influence. Bliaut was an early attempt in Europe of a fitted dress. And again used by both men and women. The second illustration below from mid 12th century shows a noble man wearing a bliaut and nicely showing off his leg covered in fitted hose. Bliaut was usually likely fitted with lacing on the sides, but it wasn't tailored (tailoring wasn't really a thing just yet) and so created a wrinkled effect around the torso.

In the 14th century things really picked up in European fashion. European kingdoms finally started to become richer and the rich started to have some extra money to put into clothing, so new trends started to pop up rapidly. Tailoring became a thing and clothes could be now cut to be very fitted, which gave birth to fitted kirtle. At the same time having extra money meant being able to spend extra money on more fabric and to create very voluminous clothing, which gave birth to the houppelande.

Kirtle was once again worn by everyone. It wasn't an undergarment, for women that would be shift and men shirt and breeches, but it was an underlayer. It could be worn in public but often had at least another layer on top of it. The bodice part, including sleeves were very fitted with lacing or buttons (though there were over-layer kirtles that had different sleeves that changed with fashions and would be usually worn over a fitted kirtle). Men's kirtles were short, earlier in 14th century knee-length but towards the end of the century even shorter styles became fashionable in some areas. First picture below shows a man with knee-length kirtle from 1450s Italy.

Houppelande was also unisex. It was a loose full-length overgown with a lot of fabric that was gathered on the neckline and could be worn belted or unbelted. The sleeves were also wide and became increasingly wider (for men and women) later in the century and into the next century. Shorter gowns similar in style and construction to the houppelande were also fashionable for men. Both of these styles are seen in the second picture below from late 14th century.

In the very end of 14th century, first signs of pantification of men can be seen. In France and it's sphere of influence the skirt part of the kirtle became so short it barely covered the breeches as seen below on these fashionable musicians from 1395-1400 France. Long houppelandes, length ranging from floor to calf, were still used by men though (the second picture, 1414 France), as were knee and thigh length gowns of similar loose style.

The hems continued to be short through the 15th century in France, but in other places like Italy and German sphere of influence, they were still fairly long, at least to mid thigh, through the first half of the century. In France at some point in late 13th century the very short under-kirtle started to be called doublet and they are just getting shorter in 1400s. The showing underwear problem was fixed by joined hose and the codpiece, signaling the entrance of The Sluttiest Era of men's fashion. Below is an example from 1450s Belgium of doublet and early codpiece in display. As you can see from the other figures, the overgowns of the previous century were also getting very, very short. In the next French example below from 1470s we can see the skirt shrink out of existence right before our eyes.

The very skimpy doublet and it's accompanying codpiece spread to the rest of the Europe in the second half of 15th century and it would only get sluttier from there. The Italians were just showing their full ass (example from 1490s). The dress was not gone yet though. The doublet and codpiece continued to be fashionable, but the overdress got longer again in the French area too. For example in the second example there's Italian soldiers in a knee length dresses from 1513.

But we have to talk about the Germans. They went absolutely mad with the whole doublet and codpiece. Just look at this 1513 painting below (first one). But they did not only do it sluttier than everyone else, they also changed the course of men's fashion.

Let's take a detour talking about the Landsknecht, the mercenary pikeman army of the Holy Roman Empire. (I'm not that knowledgeable in war history so take my war history explanation with a grain of salt.) Pikemen had recently become a formidable counter-unit against cavalry, which earlier in the Medieval Era had been the most important units. Knights were the professional highly trained cavalry, which the whole feudal system leaned against. On the other hand land units were usually not made of professional soldiers. Landsknecht were formed in late 15th century as a professional army of pikemen. They were skilled and highly organized, and quickly became a decisive force in European wars. Their military significance gave them a lot of power in the Holy Roman Empire, some were even given knighthood, which previously wasn't possible for land units, and interestingly for us they were exempt from sumptuary laws. Sumptuary laws controlled who could wear what. As the bourgeois became richer in Europe in late Middle Ages and Renaissance Era, laws were enacted to limit certain fabrics, colors and styles from those outside nobility, to uphold the hierarchy between rich bourgeois and the nobles. The Landsknecht, who were well payed mercenaries (they would mutiny, if they didn't get payed enough), went immediately absolute mad with the power to bypass sumptuary laws. Crimes against fashion (affectionate) were committed. What do you do, when you have extra money and one of your privileges is to wear every color and fabric? You wear every color and fabric. At the same time. You wear them on top of each other and so they can be seen at the same time, you slash the outer layer. In the second image you can feast your eyes on the Landsknecht.

Just to give you a little more of that good stuff, here's a selection of some of my favorite Landsknecht illustrations. This is the peak male performance. Look at those codpieces. Look at those bare legs. The tiny shorts. And savor them.

The Landsknecht were the hot shit. Their lavish and over the top influence quickly took over men's fashion in Germany in early 1500s. Slashing, the technique possibly started by them, but at least popularized by them, instantly spread all over Europe. That's how you get the typical Renaissance poof sleeves. They at first slashed the thighs of their hose, but it seems like to fit more of everything into their outfits, they started wearing the hose in two parts, upper hose and nether hose, which was a sort of return to the early Medieval trousers and knee-high hose style. The two part hose was adopted by the wider German men's fashion early in the century, but already in 1520s had spread to rest of Europe. It was first combined with the knee-length overdress that had made it's comeback in the turn of the century, like in this Italian painting from 1526 (first image). At this point knitting had become established and wide-spread craft in Europe and the stockings were born, replacing nether hose. They were basically nether hose, but from knitted fabric. The gown shortened again and turned into more of a jacket as the trunk hose became increasingly the centerpiece of the outfit, until in 1560s doublet - trunk hose combination emerged as the standard outerwear (as seen in the second example, 1569 Netherlands) putting the last nail on the coffin of the men's dress as well as the Sluttiest Era. The hose and doublet became profoundly un-slutty and un-horny, especially when the solemn Spanish influence spread all over with it's dark and muted colors.

Especially in Middle Ages, but thorough European history, trousers have been associated with soldiers. The largely accepted theory is that trousers were invented for horse riding, but in climates with cold winters, where short skirts are too cold, and long skirts are still a hazard when moving around, trousers (with or without a short skirt) are convenient for all kinds of other movement requiring activities like war. So by adopting hose as general men's clothing, men in 1500s associated masculinity with militarism. It was not a coincidence that the style came from Landsknecht. I may have been joking about them being "peak male performance", but really they were the new masculine ideals for the new age. At the time capitalism was taking form and European great powers had begun the process of violently conquering the world for money, so it's not surprising that the men, who fought for money and became rich and powerful doing so, were idealised.

Because of capitalism and increasingly centralized power, the feudal system was crumbling and with it the feudal social hierarchy. Capitalism shifted the wealth from land ownership (which feudal nobility was built upon) to capital and trade, deteriorating the hierarchy based on land. At the same time Reformation and centralized secular powers were weakening the power of the Church, wavering also the hierarchy justified by godly ordain. The ruling class was not about to give up their power, so a new social hierarchy needed to form. Through colonialism the concept of race was created and the new hierarchy was drawn from racial, gender and wealth lines. It was a long process, but it started in 1500s, and the increasing distinction between men's and women's fashions was part of drawing those lines. At the same time distinctions between white men and racialized men, as well as white women and racialized women were drawn. As in Europe up until this point, all over the world (with some exceptions) skirts were used by everyone. So when European men fully adopted the trousers, and trousers, as well as their association to military, were equated with masculinity, part of it was to emasculate racialized men, to draw distinctions.

Surprise, it was colonialism all along! Honestly if there's a societal or cultural change after Middle Ages, a good guess for the reason behind it is always colonialism. It won't be right every time, but quite a lot of times. Trousers as a concept is of course not related to colonialism, but the idea that trousers equal masculinity and especially the idea that skirts equal femininity are. So I guess decolonize masculinity by wearing skirts?

[mayordoi]

Happy birthday to the number one princess in the world!! 💖

~from her biggest fans :)

ramble of my scattered thoughts on the piece under cut as usual cuz i love talking 😋

This has been an idea I've been cookin for a while, and it was so cluttered and unlike any other ensemble piece I've made... and I decided I oughta do it anyway. I love Miku, I love Vocaloid, and I wanted to do something really ambitious and crazy for her anniversary. Crazy that she's turning her "canon" age this year TwT

I had the idea floating around since like, May...? And then finally started acting on it around June 18. I'm terrible with deadlines, obvious with how I can never make a silly birthday post in time, so I started wayyyy ahead to make sure I have some room to be lazy lol, especially with an idea as ambitious as this.

This was finished on July 12! So I had to sit on this for an annoying amount of time. Very difficult for someone like me who just wants to talk about everything I'm working on to the masses. But at the very least, that gave me the time to work on the draft for this post.

~~~

Here's some ~behind the scenes~ scribbles leading up to the finished piece!

Left is the chicken scratch plan i made in my handy dandy notebook (whenever things are getting real and ambitious, i always made a rough ROUGH plan in there. Usually I'd do a rough pass of the full thing, but this was too complicated for me to do traditionally. I majorly benefited from digital tools to make this possible). CyberDiva and CyberSongman were considered, but I ended up cutting them cuz I just didn't feel like drawing them sorry-- (just pretend they're off to the side. They gave Ruby and Clara the pizza lol). Right is the "final" completed sketch (before I decided to include Chika mid-way through coloring and VY1 and VY2 near the finish line). I started by drawing the main "groups" separated on a different canvas so I can plop them into the main canvas for easy rearranging and transforming. However I got lazy and ended up drawing everyone in the bottom right corner directly on the canvas since I liked seeing the big picture of everyone's positions. Y'know.

Almost excluded Chika! But I like her design so much that I just felt like including her last-minute. You win this time, Chika fans. VY1 and VY2 were very close to being cut! I added them when I began doing the banner and thought "eh why not". I figured their non-human designs would be pretty easy to include pushed back in the bg. Ik VY1 is more commonly associated with the fan design, but I referenced the hairpin cuz it was simpler and the fan looked very annoying to draw 😭

Sorry to the fans of many Vocaloids I had to cut because this composition was insane enough as is. I promise I wanted to include fellas like CUL, LUMi and Sachiko 😭 I will admit I was a little biased on who I wanted to include over others. Like, I don't normally care for Bruno and Clara, but I wanted to get some more international 'loids in the mix. Also wanted to stick in the realm of official designs and not fan-designs since, as much as I can appreciate those, are just a whole "wait who is that guy supposed to be" situation I didn't wanna deal with. I also did wanna include even more character references through the balloons, but they ended up being kind of ugly and overcomplicated the BG :,) (Oh, and while this was originally planned to be a Vocaloid-only piece, I did end up including Teto, Neru, and Haku 'cuz those are Miku's besties dude!!! They may not be Officially in the club but they're her girls and it would be criminal to not invite them to her birthday).

Anyway, this project marks the first time I've drawn a lot of Vocaloids. Lily, Piko, Rana, Yuki, Yukari, Miki, Maika, and many more lol. All of 'em I've heard or seen in passing, but now I actually drew them, and some have really cool and fun designs!! I got into a habit of drawing Merli after this since I just love her design for example. And I'll probably be drawing more lol!!

Oh and the last thing I'll add for now!! The cake is indeed made up of various song references!! I wanted to reference the "big four" producers, just absolute icons in Vocaloid history. The pink/black checkerboard is "World is Mine" (Ryo), the crescents on the side is "Rolling Girl" (Wowaka), the smiley faces is "Matryoshka" (Hachi), and the three hearts on the side is "The Vampire" (DECO*27, which is sort of a symbol of his whole Mannequin album tbh). I know "The Vampire" is a bit modern but I couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head. I'm a fake DECO fan I know 😔 "Matryoshka" was originally going to be referenced in the colors of the candles but believe me it looked like shit so I just went for something else last minute 😭

That's all I have to say!!! Hope you didn't mind the text wall if you made it here. I hope you like it as much as I do!!!! Happy freakin' birthday Miku!!!!

I have to deal with tagging all these characters now for my page,,, in the drafts my tags got cut off after a certain point so I think I'm massively breaching the tag limit 😭 um... I'll figure that out later...

not losing sleep that i can't tag everyone, even for page organization purposes because some characters have pretty generic names and some are a little hard to see in full yknow. If you're one of those people who tag every character in the art piece you reblog... I am very sorry.

[cz19y]

MERCHES !? [HCs]

Multiple × Bllk Player!GN!Reader

THEME: You start getting famous in the NEL. You have merches now! How'd they react? Would they buy a keychain? A plushy? Your jersey??

∆ Reader is part of Blue Lock, fluff, SFW, some of them will be extremely short, they have a crush on you, OOC[?], grammar & spelling errors.

[!] reference for plushie at the bottom.

NOTE: This has been sitting on my drafts for half a year now. Finally decided to finish.

∆ FT: Isagi Yoichi, Rin & Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness, Shidou Ryusei, Niko Ikki.

[ Starting … ]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ISAGI YOICHI

"Cool/Cute!" First thing he thought about when he saw the plushy.

Def buying the plushy. He also looked into the jersey but dropped the idea cuz he's just shy like that.

Silly keychain hanging from his wallet.

Gets all awkward when someone teases him(Reo + CHIGIRI).

“You got [L/n]’s merches? Can I tell them??!” Bachira was so excited to tell you.

“No.”

Anyways,

Gets all awkward next time talking to you but pretends it's ok. (It's not ok)

Loves the fact that you're having somewhat of the attention you deserve for being the great player you are.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ RIN ITOSHI

You really think he's buying it? What a joke.

He is.

Just because you annoyed him to do so, of course.

Just the keychain tho. The idea of a jersey would "decrease" his ego and he thinks that the plushie is a waste of space.

Jokes, he bought the plushie.

Almost died on spot when you mentioned that you saw the plushie on his bed.

BUT he’ll kill you if you mention it to others.

Has the keychain on his keys.

When waiting for a bus or something, he fidgets with it.

Likes to start a staring contest with the plushie.

AGHhH ok but he's so cute.

Since you're “important or whatever”(his words, not mine), I'm imagining him taking good care of the plushie.

Ok but he def drowled on that plushie.

Blushes if you ever buy his merches. Like in the Sae scene after the U20; eyes shining and all.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ SAE ITOSHI

Debated if it was worth it or not.

He means, how lukewarm..

But those keychains are adorable, no?

Yeah, why not.

Keychain hanging out from his phone.

Fidgets with it too.

Ignores his teammates if they ever mention it and glares at them if they push it.

Will not tolerate Shidou.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ MICHAEL KAISER

Bought the plushie to annoy you. That's one of the main reasons why he bought it.

The other reason is because he actually wanted one.

Has it sitting near the mirror.

Poses and talk to that thing like it's actually someone.

Unboxing time was def something. Smug smile with brows acherd, inspecting the mini version and humming in approval.

Ness doesn't know how to feel about this.

NOT buying the jersey. You're a good player too, his pride is gigantic and would NEVER betray himself.

He may be pinning on ya but that's different.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ALEXIS NESS

Bro's smile got even happier when he got the plushie[HE'S SUCH A CUTIE STOP].

Has a jersey somewhere in his closet.

Shy about it.

Keeps everything clean and neat.

Finds it so cute, he absolutely loves the plushie.

Keychain keychain keychain-

Inner child coming alive once more.

Unboxing with ultimate happiness.

Loves you and all but would prefer if you don't know about it.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ SHIDOU RYUSEI

The moment he heard about it, you can bet he was already ordering it.

Keychain, plushy, or jersey?... huhh.. Nah, he's buying it all.

But his favorite is the jersey.

Would start wearing it as a joke, but then it becomes part of his weekly clothing.

Shidou ordered a GG size plushy and named it "[Lame Nickname]".

Ordered a small size plushy too, and named it "[Lame Nickname Jr. The II]".

Will talk to it like it's an actual conversation when bored or when he wants to get something out of his mind and there's no one around for him to pester.

Not shy about it.

Brags, even.

Makes your and his plushie kiss in front of the whole team hahaha-

Sometimes you're worried about the plushie’s safety.

Bros 100% pleading forcing you to buy his merches so you two can match.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ NIKO IKKI

Got too embarrassed when buying.

I can picture him with his neutral ass face unboxing the plushy but inside; he's jumping and giggling while he stares at the eyes of the small goofy mini version of you.

Gets quiet the next time he sees you.

Gets embarrassed when spots the plushie looking directly at him.

*Cutely goes and move its head to another direction* /j

He’s an anime fan; probably and will make a secret collection of those merches.

Plushie sitting at the top spot of his shelf among the mangas or anime merches he has.

Will delete himself if you ever mention it.

If ever hanging out at his place, expect having to wait for some minutes outside his room because he's trying to find a good spot to hide it.

Bro has pride to keep, give him some time.

Lmao. Feels bad whenever the plushie falls off his bed and pets it to make up for it(just like me fr).

[!] Plushie Ref

They're so cute.

[sirenologyyy]

RIGHT SIDE OF MY NECK!

neteyam x fem!metkayina reader

✧ summary : a certain sully boy can't admit he's smitten by one of the daughters of the olo'eyktan, but why would he? he's calculated and discerning and she's everything he wished he was.

✧ warnings : swearing (that's pretty much it LMAO)

✧ author's note : neteyam's 15, reader is older than tsireya by a year or so, some much needed lo'ak and neteyam brotherly bonding (after the trauma inducing hellscape that was atwow), lo'ak talking like a regular teenage boy, and in honor of it being December again, may i present to you, a neteyam fic that has been rotting in my drafts since April 🤩

A gravelly groan escapes your lips as your hands managed to shield your face, almost to hide yourself from the undisputable truth that you, along with your Tsireya, and your older brother Ao'nung had been roped into the evident mess that was to teach the children of Toruk Makto the ways of the Metkayina.

You weren't as prejudiced as Ao'nung, sneering at the Sully children whenever he'd run into them, so meticulously influenced by your mother's dislike towards Skypeople, let alone the Omaticaya.

You weren't as welcoming as your younger sister, who had greeted them with big grins that only further accentuated her dimples and her devout willingness to help Toruk Makto's family in any way she could. While you had resorted to mirthless smiles and polite nods whenever you'd come across one of them, it was unnatural, yes, Ao'nung was quite unfair with his treatment towards them, yes, but Tsireya's overall cheer and joviality was something you could not for the life of you reciprocate.

You were fine with them being here, although you couldn't say the same for most of your people.

The only real thorn in your side was the oldest.

Neteyam.

Oh how your blood boiled whenever you'd spot him in the crowd. Always so eager to help, so eager to please, so perfect, so good, it made you want to punch the living daylights out of him... Well, only slightly, that may be an exaggeration. Your hate for him might be particularly irrational but valid in all the worst ways.

"Can't you tell them I've been bitten by something?"

"No" Tsireya snorts.

"I've slipped collecting coconuts and dislocated my ankle"

"Stop moving so much sister, or I will mess up your hair"

It was like he was so anxious about keeping up the golden boy facade, what a show off, you thought. Going out of his way to help any way he could, helping carry baskets of dried fish across the village, pushing heavy boats off to sea, weaving baskets, seeing to the ilus, even the tsuraks at one point. It infuriated you. What did he had to gain?

If there was one thing you despised, it was try-hards.

And Neteyam Sully was the bane of your existence.

"Oh!" You had exclaimed, snapping your fingers. "You can tell them I have fallen off my ilu and got ripped apart by an akula"

Tsireya laughed. "Yes, like they would believe me"

With another scoff, you stare st your sister through the mirror, so engrossed in the braiding technique you'd requested for her to do on your hair. "I don't see why you're bringing me into your affairs sister, it is clear as day you only want to help out the Forest People because you like the way that boy kept looking at you yesterday"

Tsireya tugs at your half-finished braid, making you swear and rub at your head, bringing Tsireya some amusement out of this. "Now, be quiet, be still, let me do my job"

With a sour mood, you allow Tsireya to thread the shells you requested she put in, sitting up straighter. "Your job in being an absolute bitch?"

Tsireya sighs again, feeling her slump in frustration behind you. "Do you think it is so easy a job for me to constantly deal with your attitude?"

A smirk comes to your face as Tsireya knots your braid off. "Don't worry, all your efforts will be seen by Eywa, she might even make the boy tell you your hair looks nice today"

"Enough, Y/N" Tsireya says, standing up from her seat.

You stood as well, hooking your arm around Tsireya's as you left your pod. "Oh let me have my fun"

A dozen morbid thoughts suddenly flood Tsireya's mind. "If we do that I am afraid there will be nothing left of Awa'atlu when you are finished"

When you arrive, you immediately spot both the brothers sitting on the edge of the woven platform, their long legs dangling just above the water. They looked to be so immersed in a conversation that neither of them noticed you or Tsireya approach them, only when they were about 4 feet apart was when you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

"Oh great mother, is it just the two of you?" Says you, making both the boys stand up like springs.

"No, our sisters are coming, they aren't exactly good at being early to things" says the younger one, his eyes flicking to Tsireya every now and then, making you dizzy trying to hold eye contact with the boy.

"Hey Tsireya" He finally says, nodding at her sister who laughs again. It took everything in you not to start dry-heaving in front of them.

"Why do you sound so disappointed?" Neteyam wonders, another smirk playing at his thin lips as he looks at you.

Your forehead creases. "I am nothing of the sort, what about you? What has gotten you so chipper?"

"Nothing all that special, really" He replied, not even convincing himself.

You heftily exhaled through your nose, moving away from the group and walking up on the platform, taking one of the seaweed bands on your arm to bunch your hair up just to get it out of your face. Once you'd pull your hair through the band the final time, you turned around just to see Neteyam's head turn away, almost like it was a chain reaction.

You placed your hands over the dip of your hips, facing the odd group. "Now, where has our dear brother wandered off to? It's almost noon and he is nowhere in sight"

This makes the rest of them look around for Ao'nung, even the two brothers who you'd assumed wanted nothing to do with him after your brother had showed his blatant contempt towards them after he'd ridiculed them during their arrival.

"He must still be with Rotxo and the others, we must be patient" says Tsireya.

Your mind remained closed, throwing your hands up in the air only for them to land on her hips with a thwack. "We both know Ao'nung does not move like the tide, he is too stubborn, too hard in the head " you found yourself saying, prodding a finger at your forehead.

"Patience, sister" Tsireya admonishes calmly, making her way towards you as you placed your hands on the identation of your woven skirt. "We must not rush things, we allow things to come to us at their own pace"

"Alright, alright" you tell her half-heartedly.

"Hey! Sorry, are we late?"

You turn her head to spot the two Sully sisters jogging up to the beach, the youngest out of all of them went straight for Neteyam, watching as he scooped her up with no hesitation. "Where in Eywa's name were you two?" Neteyam wonders, eyeing his sisters curiously.

The older girl rolled her eyes, pointing her chin at the youngest. "Couldn't decide on which skirt she wanted to wear"

The little girl pouts. "I didn't know which one I wanted!" She protested, her ears drooping down.

"She had two to choose from" the older sister groaned. Eyes finding yours as her grin widens, you chuckle to yourselves, having sisters was never a dull moment.

You two had bonded over that when you first helped her with her chores, although she seemed reluctant at first she accepted. Neither of you got anything done as you both found that snacking on dried seaweed and exchanging stories about your lives proved to be more fun.

"Maybe he isn't coming" says Neteyam's younger brother, subtly inching towards Tsireya while keeping everyone under the impression that he was trying to find Ao'nung just like she was, but in truth, all he wanted was to stand beside her. Tsireya didn't pick up on it at all, being the oblivious person she was, but Neteyam did, quietly chuckling to himself as he puts Tuk down, watching as she sprints towards the sand at full speed.

You shook your head at the sound of Tsireya's giggles and walks off the diving platform as well, making your way towards the beach to stretch your legs, walking along the coastline trying to kill time. That is until something tugs at your skirt, you turned around to see who it was but then looks down to see Neteyam's youngest sister, proudly holding a small conch shell in her hands, beaming up at you.

"They look just like the ones in your hair!" She exclaimed, a gigantic grin spreading across her face as you crouched to her level, taking the shell from her hands to study it. "It's a light purple, you don't have any purple shells yet"

"You're right, I don't have any purple shells in my hair yet do I?" You say in genuine amazement, holding it up against the sun, feeling the little girl scoot closer to you, but the shell had suddenly started to sprout 6 legs and you dropped it, startled by the animal and by the little girl's scream, you watch as it scurries back into the water, gone forever.

You turned back to the little girl who was visibly upset, another frown slowly forming on her face before you placed your hands on the little girl's shoulders. "Hey, we'll find another one around here somewhere, don't be upset"

She huffed, her shoulders rising and falling. "I didn't know there was something inside it, I really didn't"

You shook your head. "Neither did I, we both didn't know" you assured the younger girl, cupping her round face as her frown slowly started to shift into a smile. "Look, if we need to do this properly and find shells for my hair, I'm gunna need to know your name"

"Tuk!" She says. "My name's Tuk!"

"It's very nice to meet you Tuk"

"Really?" She giggled as you nodded. "What about you? What's your name?"

You beckoned her closer with a simple gesture of your fingers as you whispered your name into her ear.

"You've got a very pretty name" Tuk whispers as well, hiding her face behind her hands as she giggled.

"So do you" You had whispered all the same.

Tuk then looks back at the diving platform, and then back at you. "Y'know I think my brother is staring at you"

"Oh yeah? Why do you think that is so?"

The little girl scratches her head. "I don't know, he only stares at things he thinks looks nice or looks weird"

You grinned. "Does your brother think I look nice or weird?"

Tuk blinks. "I don't think you look weird"

"Would he think that?" Ka'leia emphasized.

"Probably" Tuk replies honestly, looking back at the diving platform again. "Why else does he keep staring at you?"

It made you think, it made your mind spiral into the bottomless void of memories in which you had caught a pair of warm amber eyes catch yours, and every time you did it made your heart stutter, however unfortunate it may be. "I'm not so sure either"

"Neteyam's weird" Tuk deduced.

You snort. "Yeah, he's weird"

Silence settles between you, but not for long as Tuk takes your hand and pulls you up. "Can we go and find shells now? Then we can put them in your hair! Then you'll look pretty!"

"Am I not pretty now?"

"No, not really" says Tuk, swinging your interlocked arms back and forth as her wide eyes scanned the sand.

"No?" You wonder almost scandalised, "alright " you nod.

You and Tuk spent a good couple of minutes digging holes on the beach to fish out the shells that had been buried underneath the sand, conch shells, shards of shells, fossils, rocks, bits and pieces of coral, if it was pretty enough for Tuk's standards she's adding it to her pile.

5 minutes later you're following her around with an armful of tiny shells, half the beach full of holes from Tuk and her makeshift shovel that had originally been a branch, with her screaming in delight when she's spotted another one, hurriedly running to you to add it in with the rest.

Lo'ak abruptly places his hands on Neteyam's shoulders, purposefully trying to scare him but Neteyam does not flinch at all. "Yo bro, you got a staring problem or something?" He wonders in English, stepping beside Neteyam to look out into the beach too.

"You done flirting with Tsireya?" Neteyam shot back.

Lo'ak huffed. "Pfft, me? Tsireya?"

"I know your tell, your tail's a dead giveaway"

Lo'ak laughs, punching Neteyam's shoulder, finally making the older boy turn to face him. "Yo! Shut your ass up!"

Neteyam chuckles. "No one else here understands English bro, we're fine!"

Lo'ak shook his head. "I'm not worried about the Metkayina, I'm worried about that devil right there" He says, pointing at the beach.

Neteyam looks at the direction where Lo'ak was pointing. "Who? Tuk?

"She's got spot on hearing, incredible memory," Lo'ak listed. "If I'd have known how much of a tattletail she'd be I'd have abandoned her in the forest when she was a baby"

Neteyam frowns, laughing. "Yes, and when I'd get home I'd find your extra finger in my stew"

Lo'ak grimaces, almost gagging as Neteyam wiggles one of his fingers at him. "Disgusting!"

Neteyam cackles loudly, watching as Lo'ak covered his mouth. "You're overreacting!" He tells him.

"Nah bro, you don't get to fill my mind with those kinda thoughts" Lo'ak says.

Neteyam places a hand on his back. "Face it baby bro, i'm in your head"

Lo'ak pushes it away, chuckling. "Lay off!"

"Will you two ever go a day without fighting eachother?" Kiri asks, giving them a look.

"Not sure" says Lo'ak. "But I wouldn't hold my breath"

Kiri rolled her eyes and Lo'ak turns to Neteyam again. "If Ao'nung isn't coming then we might as well fetch him, if you catch my drift"

Neteyam shakes his head, his braids swishing from side to side. "No, we will do no such thing"

Lo'ak half shrugs, already moving away. "Fine, if you won't then I will"

Neteyam grabs his arm, stopping his brother in his tracks. "Hey, what did dad say?"

He pretends to think. "Not sure, something about you being the next poster boy of the clan?"

Neteyam flicks a finger on Lo'ak's forehead, making the younger boy hiss. "No, you skxawng, he wants us to be on our best behavior, and I don't want to be stopping you from pulling another shitty stunt that'll get you in trouble"

"Fine" Lo'ak says. "I'll go check up on Tuk," He tells Neteyam unconvincingly, scratching the side of his head. "What's up with you and wanting to stay on the beach?"

Neteyam's jaw tightens. "There's nothing that's keeping me here except my promise to dad"

"Uh-huh" Lo'ak nods, eyes flicking to you and Tuk. "Nothing or no one?"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Lo'ak frowns, pretending he understood. "She's pretty hot"

Neteyam pays him no mind, only scoffing.

"She still avoiding you?" Lo'ak asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, and I can't seem to find the reason why" Neteyam huffed.

Lo'ak snickers. "Maybe it's cuz you're coming off a little too strong"

"I don't know how else I can get her to talk to me without her insulting every fibre of my being or making up some excuse to leave, I've tried everything" He replies desperately, causing Lo'ak's eyes to go wide, a whistle leaving his mouth. "Damn that bad??? What the hell did you do to her to make you hate her this much?"

Neteyam rakes his face with dread. "I don't know baby bro, but you have no idea what I would do to find out the reason why"

His brother was too down-bad to be saved, Lo'ak knew that much, looking across the beach as he studies you with his little sister. Neteyam looks at his brother, his eyes seemingly trained on you as it flicks up and down, he slaps his brother's arm. "It's rude to stare"

"Yeah, go tell that to them" Says Lo'ak, pointing at a handful of Metkayin boys passing by, giving you stolen glances as they talked amongst themselves, chuckling and hooting.

Neteyam's eyes narrow into slits. "They're irrelevant, we must not let ourselves become like them"

Lo'ak glances at him, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah, okay, so stop looking"

"Fine, I won't" Neteyam replies quickly, watching Lo'ak turn around and walk to the edge of the platform. But he dosen't stop looking, he hated himself for it for it and the way that it was practically eating himself alive.

Wasn't it such a simple task? To turn his head around and look somewhere else? Well it should be, but Neteyam couldn't bring himself to pry his eyes away from you, you, oh Eywa. Your eyes were the colour of the sea, your hair shiny and black, your smile making his stomach twist itself into knots, your laugh making shivers run up his back, the way you dressed alone would make people turn heads, but your attitude was what drew Neteyam in.

You didn't feel the need to keep up this respectful facade, treat him like a guest because it was expected of you as the daughter of the Olo'eyktan, no, you treated him the way you thought of him.

You were rude, you were impolite, and you were blunt, because you didn't like him. You didn't feel inclined to tolerate him just like what was expected of you. He wished he was that brave.

"'Teyam! 'Teyam look what I got!" Tuk squealed as the pair of you walked up the diving platform carrying mountains of shells on your palms. "Y/N told me she and 'Reya could put these in my hair after diving lessons! Isn't that cool?!?"

"Oh Tuk, you didn't force her into braiding your hair did you?"

Tuk looks back at you for moral support. "But she said she would-"

"-Neteyam let her be, if she wants me to braid her hair then I'd be happy to" you had jumped in, siding with Tuk whose ears flicked upwards at her statement. "I hope it isn't too infuriating that I favour your sisters over you"

Neteyam wanted to scoff, but instead stifles it with a tight smile. "Nonsense, my sisters have that effect on everyone" He tells her, looking at Tuk. "Don't you?"

Tuk simply gives him a giggle, a swift nod, and then runs to Kiri, shouting her name over and over again before the older girl groans in acknowledgement. "Here," you say, handing him a conch shell with yellow and brown patterns ruminating on its surface.

"What's this for?" He wonders.

"Your sister practically dug up the entire beach, you deserve at least one" you chuckled.

Oh. He stares at the shell in your hands, then looks back at your face. "If I take this does this mean we'll be friends?" He asks, a sly smile breaking on his face.

"Oh you wish" You reply, smirking as you narrow your eyss at the boy. "Taking this won't change anything"

"Yes it does," He replies as a matter of factly. "this is the longest conversation we've ever had without you leaving or insulting me"

"No it dosen't" You shook your head, insistent. "I'll still hate you after this"

He hums. "I think I can live with that," He smiled. "I did get a gift from the daughter of the Olo'eyktan after all" He laughs when he hears you scoff.

You leave right after he takes it and right before he could say thank you. Walking off to find a basket to store more of Tuk's shells in.

Neteyam looks at the shell in his hands, about 2 and a half inches long, smooth, shiny, perfect, it was perfect. He loves it. He closes his fist, a smile breaking on his face before he could even relent it, a light purple tinting his cheeks as he places the shell in one of his pockets.

[dirtyvulture]

MILF!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!CEO!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by anon: i just..i - i need a hc of beefy ceo!reader going back to her hometown after years of being away to visit her family (and Nat). And at dinner tiny mil!Nat just turn the big bad ceo!r into a stuttering and shy mess. Later that night Natasha is laying in bed and touching herself htinking about how R's muscle and body felt under her hands, and R spots her through the window and eventually make her way over and fucks Natasha. With a hint of powerbottom!nat and a shameful amount of dirty talk. All love to you mate.

AN: This has nothing to do with Valentine’s day, but it’s been in my drafts for a while so it’s time for it to see the light of day. Enjoy, my sinners. See you all soon. ❤️

You knock on the door twice, stepping back and bouncing the tray of cookies in your arms nervously. It had been years since you had seen your parents, and while you talked to them almost every week, you knew it was a big deal to see them in person.

Work had kept you away longer than you would have liked--but a promotion to CEO was not something you took lightly. However, once you settled into your role, you decided to take some time off and visit home.

The door suddenly opens, and your mom bursts out, jumping into your arms and you almost drop the cookies. After a few minutes of tearful hugging, your mom drags you into the house to greet your dad.

Your blissful family reunion is interrupted when you hear a familiar voice, and you look up and see Natasha Romanoff standing in the kitchen, wearing a skimpy black dress that normally you wouldn’t have allowed given that your mother was in the same room, but since it’s your first time seeing her in years too, you give her a pass.

Her curves are fuller, and she’s covered the wrinkles on her face with a heavy layer of makeup, but you think she looks even more beautiful than she was before.

“What...What are you doing here?” you ask, pushing away from your parents to approach her in the kitchen.

“Your mom invited me,” Natasha says with a shrug. “She said she didn’t feel comfortable with me being alone during the holidays.”

“Alone?” The last you had heard, she had married some wannabe actor from a popular comedy show and had a child with him. 

“Yeah.” Natasha subtly shows off her left hand, which is now absent of a wedding ring.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” you say.

“Don’t be.” She waves you off. You don’t miss her glance over your body and bite her lip in appreciation. With your promotion, you had less time to focus on yourself, but you still always made an effort to eat healthy and workout when you could. While you felt the results could be better, you were happy and judging from the way Natasha nodded her head as she looked away from you, she was happy too.

You help Natasha finish prepping dinner in the kitchen. You don’t miss the way she rubs her front against your back, just trying to "squeeze by” with the honey baked ham, and then her arm is almost pressed against yours when you stand side-by-side to chop the vegetables for the appetizer platter.

At the dinner table, Natasha fills your plate with a little bit of everything. You think it’s sweet that she remembers the kind of appetite you have, and the food--all of it home-cooked--is absolutely delicious. Natasha is sitting next to you, and gradually her hand finds its place on your muscular thigh, squeezing it teasingly throughout the meal.

You almost choke on a slice of ham, and Natasha pats your back to help you clear your throat. You look at her, a little nervous at her boldness, but she winks and you and turns back to her plate.

After dessert, Natasha retires to the spare bedroom on the first floor. You offer her your old bedroom, but she politely declines and disappears into the bathroom to shower. Your parents head upstairs to unwind, and you’re stuck with a mountain of dishes to clean.

But the tedious work takes your mind off Natasha, at least for a little bit. The touches against you during dinner, the way she kept bringing up her loneliness from the divorce. You know she’s desperate for you, but you don’t know if it’s right to reciprocate. After all, you had just reconnected, and it seemed a little rash to go after her again after how things ended the last time.

You tie up the full trash bag and carry it outside to throw directly into the bin. The window to Natasha’s room is near the garbage bins, and it’s open just enough for you to hear her inside.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N. Yes, right there, baby. Harder. I need more of you.”

You drop the trash bag on the ground in shock, sneaking up closer to the window to peer inside.

Natasha is lying naked on the bed, her legs spread wide open with her fingers knuckle-deep into her core, pumping frantically. Her eyes are closed as she imagines replacing her fingers with your bigger ones, and how she would dig her nails into your flexing forearm while begging you to move faster. She remembers the way you would take her to bed, all passion and intensity, only needing minutes to have her squirming underneath you. And then when she would return the favor, she loved having your powerful thighs wrapped around her head or grinding on your abs until she came all over your stomach.

You’re not sure how long you stand there watching Natasha pleasure herself, but suddenly, your feet are taking you back into the house and you barge into her room. Natasha smiles at you and beckons you forward with a crook of her finger.

“Come fuck me, baby,” she says, and you’re tearing off your clothes as fast as you can leaping into bed with her. You don’t care that your parents are upstairs, and this reminds you of your high school days when you would try and sneak girls home to have sex with while your parents were down the hall. Needless to say, you were caught more than once, but this time, you’ll try to keep Natasha quiet.

You lay on top of Natasha, careful not to lower all of your weight onto her, and wrap your arms around her, kissing her and tasting her cherry lipstick. She smears it along your cheek and down your neck, lightly biting on your trapezius muscle. You shift to the side, moaning when you feel her lips wrap around one of your nipples, then biting your lip and trying to silence yourself. Natasha looks up at you, her fingers trailing down your abs, but you stop her before she can reach between your legs.

“You asked me to fuck you,” you whisper, panting as her lips pull away from your chest. “But you have to promise to be quiet.”

“How can I be quiet when you’re the one fucking me?” she says, and you feel your stomach clench at the praise.

“You’re gonna have to try or I won’t do it,” you reply, although you think it’ll take an impossible amount of willpower to resist Natasha Romanoff in bed.

“Fine, fine,” she relents. You lay next to her, slipping your hand down to her center and rubbing your finger through her wetness. You pinch her clit and she gasps, but you lean over and cover your mouth with hers.

“You promised,” you whisper, sliding your fingers into her with ease and she bucks into your hand. As you thrust into her, your thumb circles her clit, spreading her wetness everywhere between her thighs. Natasha pants into your mouth, her nails clawing at your shoulder and bicep, her hips rocking wildly.

“Fuck, fuck, no one can make me cum as fast as you,” she says.

“Not even your ex-husband?” you ask, thrusting so fast your forearm is on fire.

“He never made me cum,” she pouts, and you push your fingers into her hard enough for her to whimper.

“Then it looks like I have a lot to make up for,” you respond. Her walls start clenching around your fingers and her stomach tightens. “Go ahead, Nat. Go ahead and make a mess for me.”

She pulls down on the back of your neck to bring your shoulder close to her mouth to bite on so she doesn’t throw her head back and scream loud enough to alert your parents. Cum gushes down your hand, and you’re pretty sure you’re bleeding from where Natasha bit you. But she releases you as you pull out, kissing your skin softly and you wince. 

“Don’t leave me, baby,” Natasha murmurs against your chest.

“I made that mistake once,” you say, scooping her up in your arms and cuddling her close. “I won’t do it again.”

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[savnofilter]

Oh wow,,, to be Stain's younger sister and found by Tenya then fucked brutally as savage revenge against your brother

                   tenya iida x [afab] reader

warning(s): sexual content, revenge sex, degradation, dumbification if you squint, reader fucked stupid, hate fucking, begging, cervix trope.

read more: masterlist | student masterlist

a/n: this has sit in my drafts for so long but ive finally thought of an idea. if you dont like rough & mean fucking this not for yew. thank you anon!

your brain felt as though it was turning into mush.

the simple act of keeping your eyes shut only aided slightly in trying to keep yourself from totally losing it. your mouth is agape, drool running down the side of your mouth and your head is hung low. your body rocks violently back and forth as your ass has no choice but to meet the harsh thrusts of the navy blue haired hero behind you.

you couldn't even moan. the force at which his cock piston in-and-out of your sopping cunt was a testament to how much you secretly desired this—despite the circumstances on which why this is happening to begin with.

you had heard him spit something out at you, but you had no more braincells left to respond, much less hear whatever he said. Ingenium's hands gripped at your delicate skin, the taught texture of his gloves creating an uncomfortable sensation similar to a rug burn. each time he brought your back against him, he used his hold on your arms to force you back onto his cock.

"Speech--less, huh?" at least, that's what you think he said. you groan in response, tears brimming at your eyes when you feel him adjust his hips slightly, his length now brushing at your g-spot and now aiming to fit the rest of his cock within your cunt. "Dumb bitch."

after all of these years, you would have thought that you could have been untraceable to your mock-vigilante brother, Stain. which the man had apparently traumatized one of the newest super heroes years ago before he could make a proper name for himself. the man new aged past that point, it's almost ridiculous with how much anger and passion he has to nearly fuck your brains out.

when you came home, that's where Ingenium—the youngest of two brothers—waited for you. he had started patient with before getting aggressive very fast. to be honest you weren't too sure how you ended up with his huge cock stuffed within you, but the outcome was very much appreciated. your brother's actions led you to this point and you're honestly not too sure that you're complaining. except maybe for the fact when you presumably wake up in the morning, you'd be sore all over, nauseous and dirty with all the fluids from tonight.

you whimper trying to signal him that yet another orgasm was about to cum, but he ignored your protests. small sobs escape your lips upon the sensation of his tip now pocking at your cervix at each thrust.

"P..lease!" you slur out. you could feel your walls quiver, your body readying for yet another orgasm brought upon from the man behind you.

as if Ingenium couldn't hear you, or give a fuck, he brings you back against his cock harsher, the impact bringing stars into your vision. a shriek leaves your mouth as you finish once again, a deep shiver racking through body as his pace never lets up. at this rate you weren't sure when he was going to finish.

you just hope that your brother will forgive you if he ever found out...

    all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter or copy this work.

[silverhairsimp]

I Can't Sleep Without You

Pairing: Bokuto x fem!Reader

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT ENTER. PWP. Oral (f!receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, consensual recording. Bokuto is the consent king. Doesn't matter how long you've been together.

a/n: I had this idea in the middle of the night and woke up to draft half of it. finally finished it so here you goooo :) enjoy! not proof read. also. two posts in one day? who tf am I?

reblogs are always appreciated <3

Trying to balance dating a professional volleyball player with a full career of your own has always been a challenge. No matter how badly you wanted to be there at every single game, every international trip, it just wasn’t realistic. 

You and Koutarou had been together since your third year of high school. You survived college together (despite the long distance), and after living together since he went pro, it was nearly impossible to get a good night's sleep whenever he was away for games. 

And this time was no different. He had been gone for a 10 day trip overseas for one of the biggest tournaments of the year. Between your work schedule, his practice schedule, and the time difference… phone calls were scarce, texts were short lived and it was really starting to get to you. Sleeping in your giant bed without him was hard enough! The last thing you needed was for your schedules to be the farthest thing from compatible.

As the days went on, it got harder and harder. The side of his bed was so cold without his warm body next to you and it was beginning to be too much. Logically there was only one solution: get all the pillows in the house, your favorite sweatshirt of his, his cologne and cuddle up in bed to make due. And until he got back, this is how you slept. 

You had practically built a barricade in the bed, pillows surrounding you in every direction and corner. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another two days, but by some miracle he had gotten home early. Unbeknownst to you though… it was the middle of the night by the time he got back and what a surprise it was to see upon his arrival. Or at least it would have if you were awake to greet him.

You were snuggled up under the covers, leg hiked up over one pillow with your arms clinging to another for dear life. You’ve got his sweatshirt on and he can smell the fresh scent of his cologne from the door to your bedroom. It wasn’t enough for you to just spray it on the sweatshirt though, you had to put a few drops of it into the diffuser so the whole room would smell like him. 

You must be so tired because you hadn’t even moved a muscle since he walked in. Quickly and quietly, he sets his bags down and changes into his comfy clothes to get some sleep with you finally in his arms again. Only when he goes to crawl into bed, there’s almost no room! “Baby girl… you trying to replace me or something?” He asks as he brushes your hair out of your eyes and smoothes it behind your ear, followed by a tender kiss to your forehead. “There she is,” he smiles warmly at you when you finally start to open your eyes. “Kou? You’re home already?” You sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes with the heel of your hand. He sits on the edge of the bed and nods his head, “One of the teams dropped out last minute so our games got cut back, we had already played each team twice… no sense in playing them a third, or at least that what coach thought–” he’s babbling and you smile at him, reaching out your arms finally happy and complete now that you’ve got your boyfriend back with you. “Sooo,” he draws out, “wanna tell me what’s going on with all the pillows? And why I can smell my cologne in the diffuser?” He asks with a soft chuckle and a bright smile. He’s not mad at all, not in the slightest. “Just missed you is all… had a hard time sleeping without you.” It’s actually really endearing you’d gone to such lengths to keep yourself comfortable while he was gone. And to be fair, he was no better. He slept with that polaroid of the two of you under his pillow, the one from after his first win as part of the MSBY Black Jackals. He had scored the winning spike and was so excited that he ran straight to you before the refs had even called the game. It’s such a fond memory of his and it's honestly what keeps him going. You are what keeps him going. “Well, I’m here now, so… can I have my spot back, or am I still being substituted by a bunch of pillows?” He laughs as you throw the pillows off the bed, not caring if they fall to the ground or land against the wall. The only thing that matters is that you have him back. And that’s very clear once you throw your arms around his neck and climb into his lap. His hands settle on your hips as he finally gets to hold you and kiss you again after far too long. 

“Missed you too– by the way–” He mumbles against your lips, in between kisses. All of a sudden, you aren’t so tired anymore, he can tell by the way you start to rock your hips in his lap and tug on the hairs at his nape. When he wore his hair down, it made grabbing and tugging at it so much easier, and if he’s being honest, it’s one of the reasons why he started doing it more often. 

He moves the two of you back against the headboard, sitting upright with you still in his lap. “You don’t still need this do you?” He tugs on the strings of his hoodie, “now that I’m back?” You shake your head and smile before telling him: “take it off”, and who is he to deny anything you could ever want. 

His lips find yours while his large, calloused hands travel up your hips to your waist, just wanting to feel you again before gathering the fabric and pushing it up and over your head. “There she is… my beautiful girl…” He places open mouthed kisses up your bare chest, between the valley of your breasts before giving some much needed attention to your tits. He rolls his tumb over one nippple while his mouth swirls around the other, sucking on it before popping off and moving to the other side. 

“Missed your body– missed kissing you goodnight every night… missed fucking you to sleep on others…” He keeps mumbling between kisses while you grind against his lap. “Missed you too baby… tried to take care of myself, but it never feels as good as when you do it.” He snickers at that, “Poor baby, your fingers not long enough? Need me to take care’a you?” When you nod your head yes, he flips you on to your back, positioning himself right between your thighs. 

Your fingers claw at his shirt, wanting him to match, it was only fair that way. He lets you pull it off, lowering his head to get it out of the hole and pulling one arm out before tossing the shirt on the ground, left to be forgotten about until morning. “Bet you taste so good… can I, baby? Can I taste you?” When you nod your head yes and push his head down further he stops, “Uh uh, gotta hear you say it… you know that.” He places a few kisses right above your collarbone, sucking a mark into the skin there while he waits for your consent. “Please Kou, want you to. I need it– need you so bad– please touch me…” It was more than enough to satisfy him. Hearing your cute little plea’s just to get him to touch you after your time apart. 

“That’s a good girl– my good girl. Now, hips up for me–” He instructs as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slides them down your legs. Grinning at the silvery strands that connect to the fabric as he pulls them away. “So wet already… were you thinking about me before I got back?” He asks as he tugs his boxers down his thighs, not wanting to worry about them later. “Always think about you when you’re gone–” you whisper as you arch off the bed, longing for his touch. “Yeah? Me too…” He lowers himself down onto the bed and kicks even more of the pillows off as he presses kisses to your inner thighs while he gets closer and closer to what he really wants– what he needs. “Spend so much time getting myself off to those naughty pictures you send… all the videos we’ve taken… Gettin’ me all worked up just thinking about them.” He licks a fat stripe through your folds and suckles on your clit, that smirk on his face growing wider as you twitch under his touch. “Why don’t we add to the collection, hm baby? Wanna take a video of how good I eat you out? Have something to remember me for the next time I’m away?” You nod your head and quickly scramble to find your phone. If it weren’t for the face id, you’d certainly be struggling to enter or even remember your password right now. That chime of the camera sounds and the flash turns on, reflecting in his honeyed eyes as he devours you. It's obscene. The way his chin and corners of his mouth are already covered in your slick. Or the way his eyes have never left the camera. Gods what did you do to deserve a man that takes such good care of you? 

That question lingers even longer when he kisses your thighs and spits right onto your pussy, only to bring two fingers to your cunt. “C’mon sweetheart, wanna hear you… don’t keep those cute noises all to yourself… wanna have this video too and watch it in the showers, or in my hotel room all alone and remember how good I made you feel.” When you start to get louder, he works even harder. Giving you his tongue and his fingers at the same time. He’s curling them inside of you so perfectly and hits that spot over and over again until you’re coming undone within minutes. “That’s it baby girl– ride it out– use me, please…” He begs you and hums against your cunt when you start to rock your hips against his face. You’re trying your best to hold the camera steady while your other hand reaches to fist his hair, tugging him even closer while another orgasm builds. “Kou– fuck… want your cock– please, need you after so long–” You beg and gods he can’t wait to replay this video over and over again, hearing you plead for him. “Anything for you– gimme the phone, sweetheart.” He removes his fingers, popping them in his mouth to wipe off the rest of your essence while he sits back on his haunches and takes the phone from you. 

“Be a good girl and get on all fours for me…” When you do what he asks, he gives your ass a little love smack and uses your phone to get a good view of your pussy. It's so slick with his saliva and he’s sure it’ll make it even easier to slip right in. 

Still, your boyfriend isn’t a small guy, so he spits right on the tip of his cock and pumps himself a few times. Of course making sure to record it for you later. 

He's got the phone pointed straight down as he watches his cock push past that tight ring of muscle through the screen. “F-fuck…” he mutters breathlessly, and you’re not far behind with curses of your own. “Hnngh, baby… go slow… been a while…” “I know love, you’re doing so good for me, aren’t you?” When all you do is nod your head he stills his hips, “Aren’t you?” He asks again in a more firm tone, “Yes– doing good for you, only for you, Kou… please.” 

Gods you really are such a good girl, his perfect baby. A few moments pass as he allows you to adjust, once you give him the okay, he draws back his hips and thrusts forward again. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes against the quiet walls of your shared bedroom and it’s music to his ears. Hearing that and hearing your cries of pleasure is all he could ever wish for. 

“Can already feel you clenching around me… gonna cum?” he asks as he continues to piston his cock into you, when you babble on a string of ‘yes’s and ‘please let me cum’ he tosses the phone on the bed and reaches around to rub tight circles around your clit. Working you up until that second release hits and you’re gushing round his cock, making a mess on the sheets below. 

“Fuck– squirting like that without a proper warning? Naughty girl…” He snickers as he picks up the pace even more, chasing that blissful high of his own. “Gonna cum, baby– gonna fill ya up nice and deep, yeah? Bet you missed this the most… missed my cum inside you, hm?” 

“Yes– fuck– yes, missed your cum– please, kou– need t’feel it, please!” You beg so pretty for him and he wouldn’t dream of not giving you what you wanted so with one final warning, he lets you know he’s cumming and shortly after he’s painting your walls white. 

He keeps thrusting, getting it as deep as he can until he’s given you everything he could hold before he collapses on top of you. Even with the video long forgotten about, the phone is still recording all the audio. He holds you close in his arms, pulling your leg over his hip with his cock still buried inside of you. “I love you, so much… you know that right?” 

You rest your hand on his chest and nod, “Yes, Kou. I know, and I love you too. Just as much.” 

He rubs soothing strokes along your backside and peppers your forehead with kisses until you’re closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep. He finds your phone as quietly as he can and flips the camera to face him, telling the camera one last time, ‘i love you’, before turning it off. 

Being away from you while he’s away for tournaments may suck, but getting to come home to you like this makes it all worthwhile.

[godesssiri]

10 Thrifting tips the thrilling continuation

I am a dedicated thrifter and I have done a few thrifting tips posts, things to look for, how to find the best stuff. I had an excellent day thrifting today and decided it was a good day to polish up a draft I had and post it. So read more for tips to get the goodies.

If you buy fairly plain wooden furniture, it doesn’t take a whole lot of expertise to refinish it. You can get a cheap palm sander for less than 50 bucks, and a small tin of furniture wax goes a long, long, loooong way. Or you can get Danish oil if you want a satin finish or Teak oil for a gloss finish. Don’t let Youtube videos make you believe you have to test out 10 zillion different coloured stains unless you are aiming for a very specific look. Just make sure you slap something nourishing on the wood after you’ve sanded it. Also remember that whatever product you use; multiple light coats will come out better than one thick coat. There’s a huge amount of satisfaction in looking at a gorgeous chunk of wood you’ve bought back to life.

French milled/triple milled soap. Old ladies like to give soap as gifts and people tend to stick it in their drawer to scent their clothes and never actually use it, eventually they have a clean out and this unused soap goes to the thrift store still in it’s original paper wrapping. This soap is expensive. This soap is fantastic. The milling process creates a very different product than the bars you get at the supermarket. It doesn’t go goopy and melty even if you leave it sitting in a puddle in your shower, it’s not as drying to your skin, the scent stays on your skin for longer. These bars last for months, it’s well worth picking them up if you like the scent.

Blue Willow. Would you like to have a nice set of china but don’t want to drop a lot of money on something that might look dated in 10 years? Collect blue willow from thrift stores. Blue willow has been around for hundreds of years and it’s going to be around for hundreds more. It can be slotted in to almost any home style, classical, boho, maximalist, scandi, etc, etc. Because it’s been around for so long pretty much every manufacturer has done it, so you find it really often at thrift stores and it’s easy to pick up a couple of plates here and a serving bowl there. Also, because so many companies have done it over such a long period it’s possible to pick up modern dishwasher safe dinner plates that you can use alongside a lovely 100-year-old antique gravy boat.

Gifts. Never feel ashamed of buying gifts from thrift stores. The perfect vintage item is way more meaningful than any amount of new stuff. And if you’re buying for someone who doesn’t like vintage; if something looks new and undamaged how is the recipient going to know that it’s not new?

Get yourself a thrifting routine. You’re gonna find the best stuff if you go often so don’t just randomly go every now and then. People who say they never find anything are the ones who only call into a thrift store every couple of months and expect something amazing to just drop into their lap. Set a day once a week, or every other week or once a month, but make a commitment to go on a regular basis.

If you see something that you think you like but you’re not 100% sure, as long as you can afford it and have a place for it, get the thing. Take it home, live with it. Maybe you’ll decide you don’t really like it and take it back to the thrift store and consider the price you paid a charitable donation. But sometimes you bring something home that you kinda like and end up absolutely loving it. Some of my favourite things in my house are things I wasn’t completely sure about when I was in the thrift store. There’s nothing worse than the regret of leaving something behind because you weren’t sure about it, then deciding actually I do want that thing, but it’s gone, and you’ll never find another quite like it.

If possible, go with someone who knows your likes/tastes. It’s amazing the number of times I’ve been in a thrift store with my mother or best friend, and they’ve found something I love that I hadn’t even noticed. Plus they’ll be dirty rotten enablers and encourage you to buy the thing that you love but you’re not sure you can justify to yourself.

There are a bunch of Youtubers who do thrift flips. If there’s some décor item that’s in all the stores at the moment and you love it, but can’t justify spending money on it, then it might be worth looking up to see if anyone has done a thrift flip and can give you a tutorial on how to turn a thrifted item into the hot décor items of your dreams.

Keep the cycle going. If you have stuff in your home that you no longer use/love, then donate it. If you’ve traded up and found something better but your original thing still has life in it, donate. Even if you originally bought something from a thrift store no one is gonna be mad if you send it right on back (unless you’ve used it to death, and it really should be heading for landfill).

Don’t put yourself in a box. Don’t refuse to get something because it’s not ‘your style’. What is ‘your style’? Things that you love, that make you happy. Do you love this thing? Does it make you smile? Then it’s your style. Honestly style is something that evolves organically, that grows and expands as we’re exposed to new things. If you try to follow a certain style rigidly then you’ll end up with a home that looks boring and cookie-cutter. Throw in something unexpected that speaks to you. Then throw in another of those things and another and another and pretty soon you’ll end up with a home that actually is your style – maybe you just don’t know what your style really is yet. I think of myself as very confident in my style, but I’m constantly stumbling across new things that I didn’t know I needed in my life.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

[zeenimf]

Phei of the Wind | Draft 3 Complete

Hiya all~ It's been a while, but today I've finished the third draft of my fantasy novel Phei of the Wind. As many of you know I've been working on this novel for more than twelve years now, and this is the most definitive version I've ever made. It's still going to be revised and worked upon, of course, but most story beats have now been completed. It's composed of 29 chapters with a hefty 109000 words. I'm writing my thesis this semester, and I realised that I was so close to finishing that I couldn't think about anything else. So I went burn-out mode and wrote some 20000 words these two weeks, and now while I'm sitting in my eco-literature class (which is very interesting but my brain is too obsessed to stop writing), I've typed up the last few words.

So for those who have somehow missed me talking about this, it's a story about Phei, a halfling-harpy who lives in a world above the clouds. She is a priestess of sorts, and she notices that the world is slowly growing pale and empty. When she learns of a possible cause she runs away to the world below the clouds, the world where her people exiled themselves from. There she travels across the lands, figuring out not just what's happening to the world, but what happened to her people as well while meeting a cast of eccentric characters.

As in regards to the third draft, the biggest change is the endpoint. The previous draft ended at a point that made sense for a single novel, but would require another novel to tell the whole story. This new draft doesn't stop there. I shuffled around a lot of things and added some 40k words after that point. I wanted Phei's story to be composed of one big book. It doesn't mean that don't want to tell other stories in this world, but Phei's story is done when this book is done.

So what's next? I'm going to go through the entire book once, since I have a pile of notes that I thought of when writing this draft. And then I want to send the book out to a handful of beta readers. I'll send a post out for that tonight or tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled if you're interested in that!

And lastly I'd like to thank you all for your nice comments and support! Every time someone commented something nice about the story it kept me going, so I think it may have taken a lot longer without all of you. <3

I'll leave you with a snippet (picking something that has no spoilers was haaaard), and hope you will all have a wonderful day!

xx

The wind causes Phei to lose her grip on time. Hours blow past as Phei glides, effortless. She knows of birds being able to sleep in the sky, and wonders if her people used to glide in their sleep too. Her dream quickly fades when she dashes to the right again, a sliver of upwards current catching her attention. Agile, yet absent-minded, she crosses past the forests until she can see the sands of Iekin edge towards the mountains, there where the narrow peaks and pillars of Sunde come into view. Without the stormy clouds Phei is able to take in the mountain in its entirety. It is a lonely mountain, imprisoned by the hundreds of spikes surrounding it. The evening sun shines over it, making the golden chains draping down all around the mountain glitter in sinful light. Glistering like that, Phei imagines the mountain as almost peaceful. It shows no sign of the great horrors that have been committed at its feet. It is like a passive observer, nothing more, nothing less.

Taglist, let me know if you want to be added / removed!

@ink-fireplace-coffee | @write-the-stars-and-shadows | @henrike-does-writing-sometimes | @ladywithalamp | @chazzawrites | @writingonesdreams | @generalblizzarddreamer | @peepos-prose | @writing-is-a-martial-art | @dahliaornelas​​ | @ofbloodandflowers | @magic-is-something-we-create | @ettawritesnstudies | @47crayons | @inkflight | @thelaughingstag | @writing-with-l | @immunetoliteraryanalysis​ | @strangerays​ | @luerange​  | @snowinks​ | @the-orangeauthor​ | @waysofink​ | @fablewritten​ | @houndmouthed​ | @midnights-call​ | @phantomnations​ | @teriwrites​

[avanatural]

Being With A Hunter

Summary: In Purgatory, Dean tells Benny about the woman of his dreams – Y/N. Once he returns to the world of the living, he seeks her out, looking for comfort. Will his expectations be met after an entire year apart? 

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Angst, smut, fluff, 18+

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: Mentions of blood and death, mentions of cheating, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex

A/N: This story contains smut! Do not proceed if you’re under the age of 18! This idea has been sitting in my drafts for over three years. Finally, I managed to finish the story. I hope you enjoy! I would also like to clarify that I love Sam. I was only trying to reflect in this story how Dean felt after finding out his brother didn’t look for him. There’s no place for Sam hate on my blog ❤️ The divider was created by the talented @talesmaniac89​ 😊

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“So… Once we make it outta this rat hole, what will you be returnin’ to?”, Benny asked.

Dean huffed, pushing aside the branches in his way.

The hunter-vampire duo was stomping through the deep woods of Purgatory. The sky above them was colored a constant grey. Dean had almost forgotten what it was like to be bathed in sunlight. It was depressing. The fact that he was consistently covered in dirt, sweat, and blood didn’t help.

“My brother,” he grumbled in response.

“You sure that’s all?”, the vampire pushed, catching up to walk next to his human friend.

“What’s with all the questions, huh? We got more pressing matters to attend to, don’t you think?”, Dean snapped.

Benny raised his hands in defense. “Alright, chief. Just… I’ve seen the look that you get. You got a girl out there or somethin’?”

“What look?”, Dean demanded, wiping some sweat off of his forehead with his dirty hand, smearing some grime across his skin in the process.

“That can’t eat, can’t sleep-face you make when you zone out, mate. I know that look. Trust me.”

Dean side-eyed Benny with disbelief. “What, you got a girl out there?”

“Used to. Andrea...” Her name rolled off of Benny’s tongue wistfully. “She was the light of my life.”

Dean looked around, wary and on high alert, clutching his machete tightly. “What happened?”, he asked. Back in the day, he’d never paid a single thought to the idea of monsters being able to love. And now here he was, Dean freaking Winchester, working together with a monster. A vampire who used to be in love.

“I’ll share mine if you share yours.”

“Not now,” Dean warned lowly, images of her invading his mind. The last thing he needed was to get distracted by the thought of her. Recalling her kindness, her voice, her face… It was only going to soften him, which he couldn’t afford right now. Not while he was hunting.

A twig snapped in the distance, capturing the two men’s attention. They instantly took off in the direction of the sound, ready to hunt down whatever threat was lurking in the woods.

After spending too many hours on his aching feet, Dean was lying on his back. His eyes were closed as he tried to get some rest on the muddy ground. Tiny, sharp stones were digging into his back, but he’d already given up on getting comfortable. Sleep was only required to help him survive another day, not to make him feel good.

Benny may not have needed much rest, but Dean, being human, needed at least a few hours. The vampire sat a few meters away from the hunter, watching out for any dangers.

Dean’s eyes remained closed, but his mind was racing. He wondered whether he was ever going to see Sam again. Was his brother going to do something stupid to get him back? Of course, he also wondered if he was ever going to see Y/N again. He speculated about what would happen if they met again. They’d left things on interesting terms, to say the least.

“Can’t sleep?”, Benny uttered, keeping his voice down.

With a frustrated sigh, Dean opened his eyes. He stared at the colorless sky, unwilling to face his companion. “Her name’s Y/N.”

Dean’s words sparked Benny’s interest, who sat up further in surprise. The hunter hadn’t opened up once in all the time they’d spent together, so the vampire eagerly took the bait. “She your girl?”

The Winchester shook his head, his eyes now roaming the trees surrounding them. Not even the leaves that adorned the branches had any color. Everything was dull, somber. “No.”

“She a hunter?”

“No.”

Benny chuckled. “She real?”

“Of course, she’s real,” Dean barked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re shit at openin’ up, you know that?”

A tense silence ensued between them. Dean kept clenching and unclenching his fists, contemplating whether or not to tell Benny about Y/N. After a few minutes, he pushed himself up into a seated position, his jacket coated with a fresh layer of dirt. He kept his gaze on the ground. “She doesn’t hunt. But, uh, she’s dating a hunting friend of my brother’s. That’s how I got to know her.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see that Benny was tilting his head. That piece of information clearly wasn’t what the vampire expected.

“Unrequited love, huh?” Benny clicked his tongue. “That sucks, chief.”

“I’m not so sure about that…”

“Somethin’ was goin’ on between you two,” Benny figured, casually wielding his machete in his hands.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “When I first got to know her, I just thought she was hot. I mean, really hot…” He felt himself smile for the very first time since he’d ended up in Purgatory. “She was wearin’ those tight little jeans. God, those jeans… Her nose wrinkled when she laughed. And she laughed a lot.” Dean could clearly picture their very first meeting. How she’d wrapped him up in a caring hug despite not even knowing him. “Whenever we hung out, we just… had the best time, you know? Grinned until our faces hurt. But, uh… Her boyfriend got more and more possessive of her.”

“Well, if some guy was pinin’ after my girl, I woulda ripped his head right off.”

“Oh, shut it, I wasn’t pining,” Dean grumped.

Benny snickered darkly. “Sure, you weren’t.”

“Anyway, I went to see her before my last case. Before we went up against the Leviathans. She wanted me to keep her updated. She was always worried.” Dean paused, searching for words. Y/N used to text him. To check up on him and Sam. He wondered if she’d called, or left any messages for him to read if he ever got out of Purgatory. “About us,” he added, wearing a far-away expression on his face as he pictured her smile.

“So, you went to say goodbye. Before you went after that Roman guy.”

Dean looked down at his palms. They were covered with multiple cuts and callouses that never seemed to heal – a constant reminder of Purgatory’s viciousness. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure if I was gonna make it outta that one alive. Her boyfriend wasn’t home. And we, uh…” He scratched the corner of his mouth with his dirty thumb. “We kissed.”

Benny’s eyebrows shot up like little rockets aiming for the sky. “You kissed her?”

“Best thing I’ve ever done,” the hunter replied, his voice sounding delicate and pure, like melted honey.

His voice had never sounded that gentle since he’d ended up in Purgatory. Not once. Benny took notice of this, his steel blue eyes examining Dean’s face.

The vampire sighed. “Well, if we make it outta here, you better haul your ass to her place and work it out.”

Dean nibbled on his bottom lip and stared into the endless distance. Even though he had no clue how Y/N really felt about him, the thought of seeing her again provided a special sense of comfort. “Yeah… Now, come on. Let’s get goin’. I can’t sleep, anyway.”

Dean pressed ‘ignore’ for the third time in a row. He didn’t want to hear another word from Sam. He’d made it out. He’d actually made it out of Purgatory. Only to find out his brother hadn’t bothered looking for him.

Dean couldn’t stand the thought of staying at Bobby’s old cabin all by himself. His soul was yearning for company. For someone with whom he could share a genuine smile. Someone who had missed him, who would want to celebrate that he was back.

As he drove through the dark, into the direction of Y/N’s house, he prayed that she was still that someone.

When his phone started ringing again, he turned it off. Sam had left him to rot, why should he care now?

Dean sped up his beloved car, racing towards Y/N’s home. He had no clue what he was going to find there, but he had no other place to go. Hell, he was even willing to put up with Andrew if it meant he could crash there for the night.

Once his destination came into view, he felt his blood pump faster. He parked Baby on the side of the road and just sat there for a moment, staring at the small, cozy home that Y/N shared with Andrew.

After Dean had freed Benny, he’d promised him that he would go see her. That he would talk to her. But now, being so close, he felt ridiculous. She wasn’t single, so what the hell was he expecting?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he swung open the car door and stepped out. He adjusted his jacket on his way to her porch. His anxiety traveled from his feet all the way up to his head.

Standing in front of the door, Dean proceeded to smell his armpits. Being drenched his own sweat for a year made him paranoid about his appeal. Good thing he’d taken a long shower back at Bobby’s cabin.

He took a deep breath, not feeling ready for this at all. It wasn’t like he’d been a social person over the course of the past twelve months. What was he supposed to say to her? ‘Hey, we kissed a year ago and things are hella awkward now, but I’m back from Purgatory, can I stay the night?’ Did Y/N and Andrew even still live here?

Just as he was about to ring the bell, the door was suddenly pulled open.  

With a jerk, Dean retreated his finger from the bell. His head snapped up, and his mouth parted. He was caught with no way out. His wide emerald orbs settled on Y/E/C ones. “Y/N?”  

There, standing in front of him, was the woman he’d dreamed about seeing again. And damn, she looked breathtaking.

Y/N was wearing a purple sundress and heels. She wore a pinned-up hairstyle that gave her face enough room to shine in all its glory. Her eyes sparkled in the darkness.

She looked like an angel. And not those feathered dicks that Dean had encountered. No, she looked just like an angel from the stories that his mom used to tell him.

A relieved smile spread on Dean’s lips, rays of sunshine flooding his soul at the sight of her. She was home. And she seemed to be fine.

Yet, before he knew it, the door was shut with a bang. Right in his face. On instinct, he took a step back. He stared at the door, dumbfounded by her reaction. “Y/N?!”, he called out to her.

He stepped closer to the door again and put his ear against it. He could hear frantic rustling on the other side. A few daunting moments later, the door was pulled back open.

Y/N now carried a flask and a can of salt in her hands. Without so much as hesitating, she used the flask to splash him with what he believed to be holy water. Dean instinctively closed his eyes as the cool liquid hit his face.

She frowned, puzzled, when nothing happened. She then flung some salt at his torso – again, to no avail. Her bewildered brows scooted closer together. Rolling up her dress, she revealed a black thigh holster, and pulled a silver knife from it.

It would have been pretty hot in Dean’s opinion if she didn’t grab his arm and dig the blade into his skin. A thin red line appeared on his forearm.

“Ah,” Dean winced, withdrawing his arm after she’d cut him. He caught her gaze, impressed by her straightforward behavior. “Atta girl,” he commented in awe, his voice hoarse with pride.

Her eyes became round with wonder as she looked up at him. She studied his face, astonished. Her stare didn’t waver as she was terrified that he was going to disappear into thin air. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. “You’re…”

“I’m me,” he vowed. He held up his hardened hands reassuringly.

“Oh my God,” she whispered and stepped towards him. After snaking her arms around his neck, she pulled him down for a tight hug.

Dean followed her lead. His hands found her lower back. He let her hold him, wrap him up in a warmhearted embrace. He buried his face in her hair, resting his chin on her shoulder. The sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo invaded his nostrils, calming his nerves.

Dean had been on guard for an entire year on end. Right in that moment, in Y/N’s arms, he felt himself let go for the very first time in twelve torturous months.

Closing his eyes, he reveled in her tender touch. His body melted against hers. His arms tightened around her body. Tears started to well up in his green orbs, causing him to shut them even more tightly. He hated the burning sensation. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to worry Y/N. An involuntarily sigh left his lips when she started running her hands up and down his wide shoulder blades in a soothing gesture.

After a minute of staying wrapped up in each other’s arms, they broke apart. Dean blinked at her, hoping that she didn’t see his unshed tears. But she looked just as emotionally charged as he felt.

Suddenly, her sweet face twisted with bitterness and she landed an unexpected blow to his shoulder.

“Ouch!” Dean covered his shoulder with his hand, arching a surprised eyebrow at the punch.

“What the hell happened?”, Y/N demanded.

“Well, if you promise you won’t hit me again, I’d like to come in and explain,” Dean sassed, holding his free hand up in defense.

Y/N stepped aside and Dean walked into her house, wiping his wet face that was still covered in holy water. He noticed that her place looked different. New colors, new furniture. “You renovated?”, he asked.

She pointed towards the couch in the living room and watched as he took a seat. “I needed a change of scenery.”

Dean sat back against the soft cushions of her couch. “I like it,” he commented mindlessly and watched with flaming interest as Y/N removed her thigh holster. The smooth skin of her leg was a sight to behold, especially after one year of celibacy. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to be able to touch her, to squeeze her flesh in his hands.

After retrieving her phone, Y/N quickly started typing away.

“What are you doing?”, Dean inquired, looking up at her from where he was seated.

“Calling off my… date,” she sighed. With an unreadable expression on her face, she dropped her phone on the table. With careless movements, she kicked off her heels and sat down next to her visitor.

“Date?”, Dean repeated with a baffled expression, trying desperately to mentally catch up with her. The hunter took a swift look around. “Where’s Andrew?”

Y/N hesitated and glanced at the floor. A pang of dread settled in the depths of Dean’s chest. Something was off.

After taking a deep inhale, Y/N finally said, “He’s dead.” Her fingers started to play with the hem of her dress.

“What? How?” Dean sat up straight, genuinely taken aback. Andrew had been a damn good hunter, he had to give him that.

“One year ago, he died on a hunt...” She bit the inside of her cheek and paused for a moment. “Because of me.”

Dean shook his head. “How can you think that?”

Y/N tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was too thick. Her regret was so heavy that she felt like it was going to drag her down through the ground and straight to hell. “I, uh… I wanted to be honest with him. I told him about our kiss,” she revealed with a shaky voice, “And he… He said he needed a break. So, he went on that hunt by himself.” Her eyes glistened with remorse. “He didn’t wait for backup. Those ghouls… They tore him to pieces.”

“Y/N…” Dean’s hand reached out to touch her shoulder. “You didn’t kill him.”

She blinked, causing a single tear to slide down her cheek. “I drove him away.”

Dean couldn’t bear the thought of her blaming herself when he was just as responsible for that kiss. Perhaps even more. “Well, then it’s my fault, too. I kissed you.”

“We kissed each other,” Y/N clarified, her watery gaze holding a deep softness as she looked at him. She didn’t want him to blame himself. She was the one who’d been in a relationship, not him.

Dean stared back at her for a while, amazed by the warmth in her gaze. She was so perfect to him that it hurt. He never wanted to see her cry again. Once he realized just how intently he was staring at her, he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Uh…” He didn’t know how to start the conversation he intended to have with her about that kiss.

“Enough about that,” she interrupted his train of thought, quickly wiping the skin under her eyes. After taking a calming breath, she continued, “What happened to you? Sam… He sent me a message about you being gone. I tried contacting him, but he never got back to me.”

“He just said I was gone?”, Dean demanded, unable to hide his anger.  

Y/N nodded. “I tried digging up information about your whereabouts, but I couldn’t find anything. Not a single trace. I thought you were dead.”

He chuckled bitterly. “Well, at least someone tried lookin’ for me.”

“Dean, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t die.” He rubbed his hands together, feeling the chapped skin of his callouses scrape against each other. “I got sent to Purgatory.”

The muscles in Y/N’s forehead twitched. “… Purgatory?”

“Yeah.”

And just like that, every last gruesome detail came pouring out of him. He told her how he’d been dragged to Purgatory along with Dick Roman. How he’d become the hunted. How he’d lost Castiel. That he’d made a vampire friend who’d offered him a way out.

Y/N just sat there, listening to every single word he had to say. She nodded occasionally to encourage him to keep talking. Somewhere along his monologue, she placed her hand on his knee, squeezing gently. The hunter was beyond relieved to be with her.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” she breathed once he’d poured his heart out. She must have listened to him for nearly an hour, but she didn’t show any signs of being tired of it.

When he looked at her, he saw the pain on her face. The pain she felt for him, for what he’d gone through. “Yeah. Me, too,” he said quietly. He placed his hand on top of hers that was still resting on his leg. “So… You’re dating, huh?”

She went with the change of subject, knowing that their conversation was already dark enough. “I went on a few dates recently. But…,” Y/N chuckled drily, feeling stupid for what she was about to say, “There was something about being with a hunter, you know? It was… exciting. Exhilarating.” She scoffed and shook her head. “Hunters aren’t clueless, they know what’s out there. They know what’s important. Those dates, they just, I don’t know…”

“Bored you?”, Dean assumed, pushing his eyebrows together.

“Yeah.”

He tilted his body so that he could fully face her. “So… You’re not disappointed that I ruined the one tonight?”, he asked, brushing his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand.

Her lips curled, the smallest of smiles brightening her face. “God, no. I’m just glad you’re back, Dean.”

He couldn’t help but return her smile. She was happy to have him back. Truly happy. And he knew it was inappropriate, immoral, considering what had happened to Andrew, but this situation was like a dream come true. Getting out of Purgatory, that was him coming back to the world of the living. Getting to see Y/N again, that was him coming back to life.

“You know…,” he trailed off, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, “I’m a hunter.”

And just like that, the whole atmosphere shifted from a somber heart-to-heart to an intimate staring match.

A curious glint became apparent in her eyes. “Are you asking me on a date, Winchester?”

Dean leaned forward, bringing his hand up to rest on her waist. “Not what I had in mind.”

It took all of his courage to make his next move. Perhaps he’d forgotten how to charm a woman with his words, but his body had not forgotten the art of seduction. So, he followed his intuition. Start slow. Don’t be aggressive. He gently caressed her side as he brushed his lips against hers, the kiss light as a feather.

She tasted just like he remembered. Like peppermint and dopamine.

“This okay?”, he breathed against her mouth as he broke away from her. So far, so good.

Y/N was enchanted by the plump pillows that were Dean’s lips. It was wrong, immoral, but he was the man she’d secretly desired for years. And he was standing right before her, in the flesh, offering himself to her. “Do that again,” she whispered.

He complied with her request and pressed his mouth to hers again, more firmly this time. She kissed him back, her hands taking a greedy hold of his shoulders. This was it. This was his signal.

Dean pushed her backwards, making her lean back against the couch. He hovered above her, never pulling away from her lips.

She reached for his jacket and pushed it down his broad shoulders. “Off,” she muttered in between kisses.

Dean shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it to the side. His hands then took a tour across her body, needing to feel more of her. His blood started to pump faster. His carnal instincts took over. He needed more. He needed everything. All the touches, all the intimacy he could get.

But most of all, Dean needed to be in control. After all the danger, all the threats, all the blood he’d shed in Purgatory, he couldn’t give away control. Not yet. Not even to the one person who gave him all the comfort he demanded.

His mouth moved against hers more and more feverishly. He was rewarded with a pleased mewl from Y/N and snarled from deep within his throat, feeling like a dog in heat. He yearned to touch her hot skin, to trace it all until he’d memorized every single inch of her body, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to fill her up, hard and fast.

Dean pushed her dress up around her hips. His fingers were drawn to her underwear by an invisible magnetic force.

“Hmm…”, she cooed when he started rubbing her through her panties.

Dean felt the fabric dampen underneath his fingertips. He forgot how to talk, how to make sense of words. Instead, his mind filled with images of all the ways in which he wanted to make her his. Before he knew it, he was ripping her panties down her legs.

Y/N helped him out by kicking off her underwear. She then began fumbling with his belt, brushing against the promising bulge in his jeans.

Meanwhile, Dean took his sweet time ogling her glistening pussy. Knowing that she was wet for him, ready for him to bury himself inside her, it made his blood go wild. He caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth as she freed him from his confines. His dick sprung free, coated with pre-cum. After all this time of not being touched, he felt like he could come by simply staring at Y/N.

Before she had a chance to do anything other than look at him, Dean impatiently licked his palm and spread the saliva along his shaft. All too eagerly, he guided his cock to her pussy.

“Dean!”, Y/N laughed, planting her palms on his t-shirt-covered chest, making him pause, “I’d like to feel your skin against mine, you know.”

He half-groaned in frustration, and tore his t-shirt over his head, leaving his spiky hair to stand up at odd angles. Not that either of them cared. In fact, Y/N quite enjoyed his hedgehog hair.

She shimmied out of her dress and unhooked her bra. They were both in a hurry, eager to spend the night in each other’s waiting arms.

Once they were both naked, Dean climbed on top of her again, his mind a little less hazy. He couldn’t just jump her like a caveman, could he?

With a growl, he rejoined their lips. They lost all shame, exchanging hot, messy kisses, licking into each other’s mouths. One of his hands tangled in her hair as they made out. The other hand went to her ass, cupping her flesh possessively.

As they caught their breath, she smiled up at him, her pupils lust-blown. Reaching down, she wrapped her hand around his shaft, spreading his precum all over his manhood.

When she started jerking him with agonizingly slow movements, Dean grunted, his lips attaching to her neck. Y/N moaned when he sucked on her delicate pulse point, no doubt hard enough to leave a mark.

“Need you,” he growled into her skin.

“Then take me.”

The sound of her voice sent a surge of desire straight to his member, making it jerk. Dean grabbed Y/N as though she weighed nothing and flipped her over onto her stomach. She tried to get up on her hands and knees, but he kept her in place.

“Stay down,” he mumbled, straddling the backs of her thighs.

Y/N did as she was told and rested on her stomach. As she turned her head to look at him, a luscious grin tugged at the corners of her lips.

Dean focused on her ass, which was on full display for him. He bit his lip at the sight, his hands taking a hold of her butt cheeks. He squeezed them, making a small whine leave her lips.

“You got a condom?”, he asked, “Wanna be inside you when I come.”

A bouquet of excitement bloomed inside of her, spreading across her limbs like wildfire. “Under the coffee table.”

Not moving from his spot on top of her, Dean reached out, rummaged around a little, and found a pack of condoms. Impatiently, he took one out, the pack almost slipping through his fingers. After ripping the foil package open, he rolled the condom on.

“Ready?”, Dean all but grunted down at her, his voice full of need.

“Mhh, yes.”

He grabbed himself and slowly pushed the head of his dick into her. The position made her unbelievably tight. So tight that it was difficult for him to enter her. He bared his teeth at the feeling. The sensation was so overwhelming that his jaw went slack.

Y/N sighed and buried her face in one of the pillows as he sheathed himself inside her.

“You good?”, he asked through gritted teeth. If he didn’t start moving soon, he was going to lose it.

She lifted her head up off the pillow. “Yeah. Just… Adjusting.”

The cockiness was audible in Dean’s voice when he retorted, “It’ll pass. Just give it a sec.”

“I know, smartass,” she shot back and rolled her eyes at the smug tone in his voice.

He chuckled and started to slowly move his cock in and out of her body as he sat on the backs of her thighs, letting her get used to him. He could feel her tightness, her slick, all of it as he dragged himself through her inner walls. When she started moaning for him, he took it as a sign that she was prepped enough.

Dean braced his palms on either side of her head, moving to lean on top of her. He could feel the hot skin of her ass against his front as she pushed herself back against him. It made him go even deeper. She whined when he suddenly delivered a sharp thrust.

“Like that?”, Dean rasped into her ear.

She turned her face so she could meet his gaze, and nodded. He kept up the harsh thrusts, finding a steady, punishing rhythm.

Y/N’s fists tightened around the pillow, holding on through the euphoric ride. A chain of shaky moans left her red lips.

He responded by leaving a sloppy, damp trail of kisses along her shoulders and neck. When she clenched around him, he cursed under his breath. “Holy shit…” He abruptly stopped his movements, much to Y/N’s dismay.

“Dean…,” she wailed in disapproval.

“Hold on,” he told her, his voice gruff with want. He reached for another pillow and attempted to shove it under her lower abdomen.

Y/N got the idea and pushed herself up to help him. As she lifted her ass, it made her tighten almost painfully around him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he hissed.

She laughed playfully at Dean’s reaction and properly positioned her lower abdomen on the pillow. It pushed her ass up towards him, making him slide in and out of her with more ease.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” he threatened.

“Bring it on,” she teased back.

He planted his hands on either side of her head again and started his rhythm back up, driving his member into her with such force that it knocked the breath out of Y/N’s lungs. She gasped every time he gave another rough thrust, her eyes fluttering shut at the mind-blowing pleasure.

Dean had no idea what had gotten into him. He wanted to caress her, to worship her. But he desperately needed to be in control, to get it all out of his system. And by the sounds she was making, she enjoyed it just as much as he did.

The sounds of his skin slapping against hers rang through the living room, along with her squeals and his groans. It was downright sinful.

Dean dropped his head on her shoulder. Y/N reveled in the friction on her clit as he slid her against the pillow with each slam of his hips.

“Y/N…”

“You close?”, she breathed.

“Yeah… You?” His voice was strained with lust.

“Mh-mh,” she whimpered, unable to speak.

After a few more jabs of his hips, Dean couldn’t hold back any longer and shot his cum into the condom. “God, Y/N… Ugghhh.” His mouth hung open, his eyes were shut. His pace faltered with the immense pleasure that washed over him.

Y/N had her head propped up on her hands, looking back at him with pure, genuine awe. He looked so perfect as he came for her. Her teeth chewed sensually on her lip as he kept moving inside her.

Once Dean was finished, he opened his exhausted eyes and met her pleading gaze. He was still hard and gathered the stamina he had left to pick up his thrusts again. She released a groan, fisting parts of the couch as the pressure on her clit and g-spot overpowered her.

“Come for me, Y/N,” he demanded, panting into her hair as his thrusts rocked her back and forth against the pillow beneath her. The tip of his dick pounded into the very depths of her body.

The knot in Y/N’s belly tightened. Her back arched, causing her to grind herself even harder against him. “Dean!” As she fell apart, getting lost in the midst of bliss, gushing around him, her thighs trembled.

He guided her through it, pushing in and out of her until her orgasm subsided. She looked so fulfilled, so sexy, that he never wanted this Goddess of a woman to stop coming for him. When she did, though, he collapsed on top of her, completely spent.

Y/N hummed as she felt his weight on her back, making her sink into the cushions with a sleepy smile on her lips. “That was…”

“Awesome.”

She chuckled softly and Dean climbed off of her with a sharp exhale. While he got rid of the condom, Y/N scooted to the far end of the couch to make space for him.

As soon as he rejoined her, Dean slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her as close as only humanly possible.

Now, he took his time to explore every curve of her body. He let his free hand roam her thighs, her hips, her sides, her breasts. He’d been dreaming about this very moment for years.

Y/N nuzzled into his touch every so often, basking in the attention he was showering her with. His roughness from before was gone. Now, he was the gentlest, most caring man in the world, showing her just how much love he had to give.

Dean couldn’t get enough of her. After one year of being punched, shoved, kicked, even stabbed, he was finally graced with affection. As soon as he realized just how much he’d been through, how much he craved a benevolent touch, he felt the tears burning in his eyes again. If she allowed him to, he was never going to let go of Y/N again. He was going to hold on to her love with all his strength.

He touched her cheek with his hand, making her look at him. “Can I stay?”, he asked, his husky voice laced with a plea.

She observed his green, sad orbs for a moment. Her heart longed for him so bad that she knew she couldn’t put it into proper words, even if she tried. A devoted smile spread across her face. Something from deep within told her that they could help each other heal.

“As long as you want, Dean.”

Tag list: @eevvvaa @waynes-multiverse @myloversgone @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @alagalaska @libre1rose8​ @katbratsupernaturalwhore @woodworthti666 @deanwanddamons @awkward-and-indecisive @snowlovespie @desimarie12 @golden-hoax @leigh70 @mimzy1994 @impalaslytherin​ @globetrotter28 @spnwoman​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @may85​ 

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Charlie Dalton, Neil Perry and Todd Anderson Taking Care of Their Sick S/O

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Charlie Dalton x sick!gn!reader (romantic), Neil Perry x sick!gn!reader , Todd Anderson x sick!gn!reader (romantic)

Warnings: The reader has a cold so... yeah. Also, since I'm sick myself, my brain isn't really working at it's normal level so apologies for any mistakes! (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: Unfortunately I'm still sick (it's only been a few days). Fortunately, I'm still motivated to write headcanons to get me through this relatively mild illness (and I'm starting to feel better)! I've got a Todd one-shot draft that I started a year ago and never got around to finishing, so here's my first offering to the Dead Poets Society fandom. I'd love to write more for it, both reader-insert and not. I'm not sure if I'll end up writing any more sick fics (I've already written hcs for Yellowjackets and Abed Nadir and Annie Edison from Community) since I should be better soon, but if you're still interested check out my fandom list and requesting info and feel free to send an ask!)

CHARLIE

Charlie will jokingly tell you that you’re disgusting.

If you’re not amused by that, he’ll awkwardly but sincerely apologise, his mortification thinly veiled.

He isn’t entirely sure what the hell to do to make you less sick.

(He'll have to consult his more medically knowledgeable friends for advice)

He will ask you if you want him to kiss it all better.

(And he will not hesitate to kiss you when you give him the go ahead)

Suffice it to say, he does not care all that much about getting sick himself.

(A small part of him hopes that he does get sick so you'll have to take care of him)

He will spend so much time with you, you’d think you were dying.

He will also get you anything you ask for (even if it has no clear use in making you physically better- he just wants to make you happy).

If his earlier attempt at joking doesn't work, he'll still persist in cracking jokes and making you laugh to make you feel better.

(If your laughter causes you to break out into a coughing fit, though, he will feel awful).

NEIL

Neil knows exactly what to do.

He may not like his dad's dream of him becoming a doctor, but damn he has such a knack for looking after you.

He makes sure you’re drinking enough fluids and taking any medicine you need to take.

No matter how disgusting you might get, Neil is completely unfazed the whole time.

If anything, he'll find it funny and try to keep you in as high spirits as possible.

If he does mind getting sick, he certainly doesn't show it.

For example, he doesn't hesitate when kissing you on the cheek or forehead.

He loves you so much that it really won’t matter to him if you can- or do- get him sick.

He’ll regularly ask you if there’s anything that you want or need, and if you’re comfortable, and if you’re too hot or cold.

It’s evident that he cares about you getting better.

He’ll sit at your bedside and try to take your mind off of how you’re feeling.

But, he will insist that you need to rest up, so when you’re asleep or trying to fall asleep he’ll be as quiet as humanly possible to make sure he doesn’t wake you up.

If he does end up waking you, he’ll feel terrible about it.

He’s so loving and caring anyway, but especially when you’re sick.

TODD

This guy is fucking terrified.

He assumes that anything he does will only make you sicker.

A small part of him is convinced you will die under his care.

So, he begs Neil for advice, and Neil humours him so that Todd doesn’t drive himself nuts.

Todd will regularly ask you if you need something, and he’ll repeatedly offer you whatever Neil advised him about.

He’s also completely torn between his innate desire not to get himself sick, and his deep love and affection for you.

So, please don’t get upset with him if he recoils almost every time you cough and sneeze, because he does spend as much time as he possibly can at your bedside.

Speaking of which, Todd sits at your bedside like a loyal golden retriever.

He’ll hold your hand (internally panicking about your high temperature, of course) and place the occasional kiss on the back of it.

He’ll also read some of his poems, works in progress and completed, out to you, and he’ll make sure to pick plenty that are about you specifically.

Sure, he’s nervous, but you love his poetry and all he wants to do is reduce how terrible you feel.

[multifandomfanficss]

Why Is This So Surprising?

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

(With cameos from all of the 11th Street Kids)

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: The team sees a softer side to Adrian when his partner gets upset.

Warnings: Descriptions of something similar to a panic attack or autistic meltdown

A/N: So funny story this has actually been in my drafts for almost year and I forgot about it because I broke my phone the week I wrote it and got a new phone, but I’m thinking of maybe ending my hiatus and coming back soon. In the meantime I have some old fics I never posted. College and my mental health got in the way and I never got to finish some old WIPs, but I think I might finally be ready to pick them back up again! Hope you enjoy! ❤️🧜‍♂️❤️

You felt your breath catch in your throat as your lungs expand and contract trying to get air in. You were trying to forget about the mission you had just been on and you were having little success. You were able to push down your emotions on the car ride back to the old video store and you were currently staring at the piano, avoiding eye contact, in an effort to block out what Harcourt was saying. If you didn’t hear the debriefing it couldn’t be real, right? If you didn’t hear how terrible the mission went, it just simply didn’t happen. Sadly that wasn’t true. You found it getting harder for you to breathe. You pushed yourself up from your chair, getting ready to walk upstairs to be by yourself for a minute when you’re stopped by Harcourt.

“Where do you think you’re going? I didn’t say you could leave. This is important.” She starts.

“I don’t need a recap of this. Thanks.” You say, continuing upstairs, your voice cracking.

“Hey, (L/N), we all did things we aren’t proud of today-“

“You didn’t do what I did!” You yell at her. Suddenly the room starts spinning. It all just feels too real. You can feel everything and it’s too much. You hear a clock ticking, water rushing through pipes, feet slapping on the pavement outside, the click click clicking of heels, the electricity in the lights, the lights that just won’t stop flickering. You back up into a wall and slide down it, tears blocking your vision. You let a sob come out.

“What are we supposed to do?” Chris asks quietly, standing up and walking closer.

“I don’t fucking know! I’ve never seen them like this!” Harcourt whisper yells. Adebayo stands up and walks over to you, the rest of the team crowding around. They’re making it harder to breathe until you start hyperventilating.

“What can we do for you?” She asks.

“You guys can move the fuck over. Give them some space.” Adrian says, pushing his way through the crowd. “Somebody go get them some water.” He commands and John leaves the room to grab you a glass. “Are you pro touch or anti touch right now?” He asks, but you feel like you’re underwater. You feel like speaking is like moving through quicksand and you just can’t manage it. Adrian slowly puts his hand out towards you, like a wounded animal. He tries to take your hand in his and at first a little jumpy, you let him. He puts your hand over his chest and takes deep exaggerated breaths. “Follow my breathing, okay? In and out.” He instructs you and you breathe together. “You’re doing such a good job.” He praises. When your breathing becomes somewhat regulated Adrian moves so he’s sitting against the wall and you’re leaning against his chest. He’s giving you the pressure you so desperately need, as he sways with you. He brings you back to this planet. Slowly, gravity starts to feel normal again. Now that you can breathe a steady stream of tears starts to flow. He wipes them occasionally as you lay with your ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat drown out the other noises that were too loud. “It wasn’t your fault. You did your best. You’re okay. Everything is okay.” He reminds you. John hands him the glass of water. “Here, (Y/N), drink this. You need to stay hydrated.” Adrian reminds you, as you take the glass of water. It feels cool against your throat which had previously felt like fire. “Thank you.” Adrian says to John.

“You’re welcome.” John responds. The rest of the team just stares. They’ve been staring the whole time. You don’t even notice the stares and neither does Adrian. Your minds are on more important matters. You completely forget they’re there until they start to speak up.

“How did you know what to do?” Harcourt asks.

“What do you mean?” Adrian answers her question with another question.

“Well we didn’t even know what to do and you say you don’t have emotions.” John comments.

“I say I don’t have emotions like other people. That doesn’t mean I don’t have emotions. I just have them differently.” He clarifies.

“Well you clearly don’t know what to do when I’m crying.” Chris starts. He then clears his throat. “I mean if I had cried you wouldn’t know what to do. Because I never cry! Crying is for babies!” He adds. Adebayo gives him a look and Harcourt slaps him on the arm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Harcourt whisper yells. You don’t take offense to his comment. You know he has masculinity issues.

“First of all crying is healthy. It’s a fundamental part of human nature. Second of all they’re my partner. We’ve slept in the same bed for over a year. I’d think I’d know how to take care of them. Why is this so surprising?” Adrian roles his eyes at the others while they shrug. Everyone has something to say, but they just decide to keep their mouths shut. As the tears start to slow, you shift in his arms, getting more comfortable. You don’t realize how tired you are until your eyes start to get heavy after you’ve made it to a comfortable position. You look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Can we go home now?” You ask.

“Of course, Babe.” He says, planting a kiss on the top of your head. Adrian moves you off of his lap, stands, and reaches out a hand for you to lift yourself up with. The others wish you well as you collect your things to go home.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to come in tomorrow. Get some rest…and Chase…I’m sorry we underestimated you.” Harcourt tells the both of you. You can’t see your boyfriend’s goofy smile in the dark of the night outside the video store, but you can hear it in his voice as he thanks Harcourt and bids his goodbye. When you get home Adrian puts you in his softest t-shirt and you climb into bed. He pulls you to lay on him and you don’t object. You enjoy the feeling of his chest rising and falling and the sound of his heartbeat. You like that you can hear it better now that his suit is off. It’s comforting. He’s comforting.

[itsjusthockey]

When The Partys Over Pt. 2 - Jack Hughes

Here it is, my heart and soul. Enjoy.

wc:4,466 (credit to gif maker)(don't steal my work)

Content Warning: Swearing, major angst

Part 1 (read first)

Unpublished For Fun First Draft

But nothin' is better sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

When the words fall from your lips, and the sentence registers in his brain, it smacks Jack harder than any hockey hit ever has, and even though you’re the one who’s wasted, he suddenly feels like he wants to pass out.

Instead, he pauses by the door, his entire body freezing, trying to register if he heard you correctly or if being around you just makes him crazy. For what feels like a century, he concentrates on his breathing skills, taking a shaky breath in and letting it go, hoping the extra oxygen will help his brain makes sense of what you’ve thrown at him. He knows you’re drunk, incredibly so, and you probably have no idea what you're saying.

He breaks his focus when he hears slight shuffling behind him, and even though he doesn’t want to, he slowly turns to face you. When his eyes land on your figure, you’re sitting up in his bed, his sheets pooling around your waist. You’re not looking at him for a moment, instead staring out his window, watching the world outside intently, but as if you feel his stare, you tear your eyes away from Jersey and allow your eyes to meet his. You blink slowly, once, twice, and a tear falls from your left eye.

“You fucked me up there for a while.”

You finish the sentence with a forced laugh, and you quickly wipe another tear away, almost seeming embarrassed. Jack feels his face flush, and his heart begins to pound. He can practically hear the thumping in his ears, and his stomach flips in circles. He can’t swallow; the lump forming tight in his throat won’t let him, and even worse, his hands start shaking. His heart is cracking, breaking into a million tiny pieces, and his body is letting him know.

The weight of your words stills time, and he feels like you’re both trapped in the suspended gravity of the moment. Your confession, clearly vulnerable and raw, reverberates through his entire being, continuing to tear him apart bit by bit.

Among the uncomfortable silence, the room grows smaller, almost suffocating, as Jack tries to find his voice. He wants to comfort you, hold you, reach out and understand why you feel this way and why he is the reason why. It’s only been seconds, but he’s trying to play out the entire last year, pinpoint the exact moment where he could have fucked up so badly to make you feel the way you do.

“Wha-what did I do?” His voice is small, almost pleading, as he asks.

You let out a shallow breath, and Jack can almost see the wheels turning inside your head. He has no idea what you’re about to say, and everything that has come out of your mouth is a whiplash, so he can’t even begin to guess.

Your eyes flicker with a mix of emotions—regret, longing, and a hint of resignation—as Jack watches you search for the right words to explain what you’re feeling. It’s as if you're carefully selecting each syllable, fully aware of the impact they will have on him, and you’re scared he’ll break.

“You didn't do anything wrong, Jack," you finally say, your voice soft but laced slightly with bittersweet sadness. "At least not intentionally, and not something you had any control over. My feeling are my own, and I can’t blame you for them.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, and Jack's heart tightens impossibly further as he tries to decipher their meaning. The knots in his stomach tighten with each passing second, and a mixture of anxiety, dread, and anticipation fills the room.

“Do you remember when we met?” You ask, your voice timid.

Jack's mind races, searching through the corridors of memories, until he finds the moment you're referring to—the night that he finally felt a spark of something real, which laid the foundation for the relationship. He nods slowly, his eyes locked with yours, urging you to continue.

An almost wistful smile crosses your lips, and Jack can almost hear the nostalgia coloring your voice. "The crowded bar, the 2000s club music blaring, that stupid fucking costume you were wearing, and it wasn’t even Halloween.”

As you speak, Jack's gaze softens, and the memory floods back as if it was yesterday—your infectious laughter when he’d made a stupid joke as he bought you a drink, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement when he told you he hated mushrooms too, and the genuine connection that bloomed from one single night.

“I think a part of me fell in love with you right away,” you continue, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "In the midst of the chaos, it seemed like we both understood who the person was beneath the facade we put on for the crowd.”

Jack comprehends the weight of your words, realizing that maybe, just maybe, It wasn't just one moment that "fucked you up," but rather a million things he never noticed right away.

“Jack?” You break him out of his headspace, patting the bed beside you. “You’re making this a million times worse just standing by the door looking like I’m killing you. “

Jack realizes he probably hasn’t moved an inch since you started speaking. So he swallows hard, takes a few hesitant steps toward the bed, and sits down. When he settles, you turn to face him and continue.

“It was my fault for getting attached to you so quickly," you sigh. “I think I knew it was too good to be true, and sex was all we would have. But I’d hoped that you were different from the way you looked at me; I’d hoped we’d fight against it, and somehow we’d end up together. “

Before he even knows what’s happening, his own tears are streaming down his face. He thought earlier, when he saw you cry, that nothing would hurt him more, but even though he thinks he’s going to die a lot when he’s with you, this might actually kill him.

A profound ache settles in his chest, intertwining with the shards of his own shattered heart. Your vulnerability cuts through the room, leaving him exposed and raw with emotions he didn’t even know he had. What makes everything worse? When you pause, noticing his tears, you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers through his.

“Anyway, after a while, I got really tired. Like all of a sudden, I was drained of everything I had. I was sick of trying to force something that just wasn't there. And after some major soul-searching and my friends helping me, it clicked. I had to remove my love for you. Tell myself that even though I thought you were everything, you weren’t. So I decided I needed to be done.”

Jack hangs on to every word.

“So I moved on, even though I kinda suck at it because look where I am. But I decided to finally try to allow my heart to let go, close this chapter of my life and start a new one.”

Jack's heart sinks as he listens to your painful admission. The grip of your intertwined fingers provides a fragile lifeline, a small, tenuous connection that somehow manages to offer a glimmer of comfort amidst his shattering soul.

Tears continue to flow out of both your eyes, intermingling with the unspoken words that Jack is trying so hard to find a way to say.

He knows beneath his own heartache; there is a sliver of understanding. He knows that sometimes, moving on is the only choice, even if it feels impossible. But he also knows that he loves you now, somehow even more than anything in the world, and he doesn’t know if he can live without you.

As silence stretches between you, Jack knows time is ticking, and he finally musters the strength to respond.

“I love you,” he whispers, admitting it openly to you for the first time. “I can't pretend that I don’t and that I can just walk away because, for that past half a year, you’ve been all I’ve been able to think about.“

His heart races in his chest, pounding with the force of his love for you. His voice quivers as he continues, desperate to convey the depth of his feelings for you.

“I am so sorry (Y/N), so fucking sorry that I didn’t see how you felt at the beginning. My life was a fucking mess. I hated hockey, I hated living here, and I hated myself. I only cared about a quick high to distract myself from my constant lows, and I couldn’t see anything past that, and I’m so so sorry.”

Jack tightens his grip on your hand, trying to bridge the distance that separates you. His eyes search yours, looking for signs of forgiveness and any chance he has for a future with you.

“You’re everything to me, and I’ve been trying to show you that, but clearly, we both just fucking suck at communication and feelings. But I want this (Y/N); I want you. More than anything.”

Tears are streaming heavily down both your faces, and Jack watches as you wipe them away with your free hand, gently sniffling. You’re both waiting, unsure of what to do next when you speak again.

“Well, this is not how I expected the night to go.” You try to joke, Jack letting out a small snort.

“I know, a lot of information just came to light.”

Jack glances at the clock and sees that it’s incredibly late, and when he peers outside his window, he sees that the city of Jersey is dead asleep, completely unaware of the mess unfolding in two of its inhabitants' lives.

“We should go to sleep, think about things.” Jack offers.

For the first time ever, when he’s offered you to stay, you do. You nod in agreement, wipe away the remnants of tears from your cheeks, and give a small, tired, and maybe still a little drunk smile. Both of you are emotionally drained, and the idea of sleep seems like paradise.

Jack helps you slide under the covers, tucking you in with gentle care for the second time tonight, but this time he feels an odd sense of clarity in understanding of you. He gets you settled, grabbing more water and anything else you could ever need before he moves to leave the room.

“You can stay, Jack; your couch sucks.”

Before he can stop himself, a laugh escapes him, and he steps back into the room. He isn’t sure if sleeping next to you is the best idea for his sake, but he also knows it would take a swat team to remove him now. Grabbing a few other things, he moves to the other side of the bed and settles in beside you, leaving a respectable distance between you for the moment.

His heart about stops, however, when your hands find his again as if you’re seeking comfort in the touch that connects you.

Jack's eyes grow heavy, and he’s fighting off the sleep demons when you take your hand out from his. For a moment, he feels a pang of loss when you pull away. But as if you’re trying to repair his broken heart, you gently shift closer to him. Jack wraps his arm around you instinctively, pulling you to his chest until your bodies are molded together, fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

Jack has never felt more complete as he gently traces circles on your back, his touch soothing on your skin, healing the ache in his heart.

As the minutes tick past, Jack can beat your breathing steady out, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, a silent gesture of reassurance and affection for himself. He quickly feels himself falling away with the warmth of your body pressed against his and the immense amount of love that he has for you.

——————————————————-

When morning sunlight seeps through the curtains and almost blinds Jack, he awakens from the best sleep he’s ever had. His eyes peel open, and the events of last night flood his mind. He quickly turns, expecting to see you still by his side. But as reality sets in, his heart sinks when he realizes you're no longer there.

He sits up, his mind foggy with sleep, and rubs his eyes, desperately trying to shake off the sleepiness. He glances around the room and looks in the bathroom, searching for any sign of you, and that's when he notices a faint sound coming from the kitchen.

Curiosity tugs at him as he makes his way towards the kitchen, his unease ending as he finds you standing with your hands on your hips in front of his coffee maker. You’re still clad in his clothes, and you look so goddamn adorable; he wishes he could stay right here forever.

“Hey, morning, uh—,” you clear your throat, gesturing to the coffee pot. “Want some?”

Jack smiles and nods as you grab two cups. Seconds later, you place a steaming brew on one side of his table, and he sits behind it. He gives you a thank you as you fill your own cup, moving to sit down across from him.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and there's a hint of uncertainty in your eyes that cuts through him like a knife. He grows even more anxious when you take a deep breath and set your cup on the counter.

“I had a little time to think this morning,” you say softly. "I needed to think about the mess last night, which I’m really sorry about, by the way. I shouldn’t have blindsided you like that, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m glad I did because we’ve needed to talk for a while, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. But now is the time, and we can end this here.”

End this?

You take another deep breath. "Last night...everything we said, it made me realize that I don't think you love me, Jack. I think you love an idea of what we could be rather than what we are.”

“No,” he protests softly, "I don’t know what you mean.”

A sad smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head. "I think you need to understand what I do, Jack. We aren’t meant to be. If we were, we would’ve. I loved you once, Jack, with everything I had. But it's gone now, and I don't think it can come back without killing me. I can't keep holding onto something that isn’t there.”

“What about last night?” He chokes out. “You didn’t feel that?

There's a painful silence between you, filled. Jack can feel his world crumbling around him after it felt whole for the first time last night.

“I'm sorry, Jack," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "This past year, we’ve had some great nights, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. We aren’t good for each other, and I think you know that too.”

You grab his hand once more, giving it a quick squeeze. As you both sit there, hands entwined and hearts heavy, realization washes over Jack. You don’t feel the same as you did once, but it’s gone now. You’ve moved on, and he’s holding you here.

Jack has never experienced true heartbreak, but he guesses this is it because it feels like a thousand knives are piercing his soul, and numbness spreads through his body.

You both sit in silence for a while, lost in your own thoughts and emotions, when you finally break the silence.

“I want you to know that I genuinely care about you, and I always will.“ You manage a weak smile before getting up.

“I should go.” You say, moving to gather the few things you had with you the night before.

Jack wordlessly watches as you leave him, his body staying trapped in this seat. He waits, and a few minutes later, you come out dressed in the clothes you’d had on the night before. He watches as you pick up your heels, grab your phone, and cross the room once more to where he’s sitting.

You pause in front of him, your eyes searching his for a moment before you lean down and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. It's a bittersweet kiss, filled with heartbreaking emotions and the weight of what could have been.

With that, you offer him one last small smile, straightening up and turning away from him. You walk towards the door and open it, turning around one last time.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

The sentence is final, and a hollow feeling settles in his chest as the door shuts quietly behind you, signaling your last goodbye.

Let's just let it go

Jack is distracted, and it’s all your fault. Well, it is, but it isn’t. He shouldn’t blame you; he knows that’s not the mature thing to do. But he is a simple man, and it’s easier to say his game is off because of someone else rather than owning up to the fact that he’s struggling.

For the past two days, he can't focus on anything else but you during hockey practice. Every move he makes feels robotic as if he's going through the motions without actual purpose. He misses easy passes, shoots wide on every attempted goal, and falls on his ass at each free skate. Every time he finally gets in the right frame of mind, his thoughts drift back to you, and the cycle begins all over again.

It’s about an hour into morning practice when Jack feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see Luke, looking at him with concern and a hint of annoyance.

“You okay?" Luke asks, “You seem a little…off.”

Jack has two options, play it cool, or get defensive. He chooses option two.

“Fuck off, just had a rough couple days.”

Luke rolls his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t push.

“Whatever you say.”

Jack lets out an annoyed huff as it’s his turn to drill, skating away from Luke and running through the play. He makes it most of the way through with ease, but when it’s time for him to shoot, it hits the boards about ten feet from where he aimed.

Frustration wells up inside as he watches the puck slide to a halt. He’s been playing terribly. His brother knows it, his team knows it, and now he does, and it's eating him alive. Jack mutters out a few under his breath and skates back to the line.

Luke, ever observant and fed up, skates back to Jack with new determination.

“So I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but snap out of it. You're better than this."

It’s tough love, and Jack's jaw tenses, his pride wounded a bit. He doesn't want to admit that a girl is causing his downfall, that your absence has left a void in his heart and made him suck at hockey.

“I’m fine,” Jack finally mutters, "I just... I have to figure things out.”

Luke claps him on the back hard and nods. “Good, just let it go.”

Just let it go.

Let me let you go

As if you dropped from the face of the earth, Jack hasn’t seen you. Not that he’s been looking. He hasn’t seen you at the bagel place, not at the bar, not at the library on your campus that he may have snuck into. You’re absolutely nowhere to be found.

He thinks you’re avoiding him, or maybe you just don’t care and forget he even existed.

Jack has no idea you’re in your own hell, going back and forth every day, debating if ending things was the right decision. You know it was, but it still hurts. You don’t check Instagram, you don’t watch hockey, and you stay away from all things that have to do with the boy you once loved.

Jack has no idea that you feel the heartbreak the same as him, and he has no idea that you watched him walk into the bagel place, head down, looking just as dejected as you.

He has no idea that you suddenly told your friend you weren't hungry or that you went home and cried again because even though you’re healing, you’re moving on, you still think about all the things that happened and all the things that could have been.

Jack has no idea it was just as hard for you to walk out the door, and that letting him go hurts like hell.

Quiet when I'm comin' home, and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

*two months later*

Two months have passed since you walked out of Jacks's life, and every minute he thought it’d get easier, it hasn’t.

But, as his mom, dad, and brothers have been telling him ever since he spilled the reason why he’s been a complete and utter mess, he has to move on with his life.

So, slowly but surely, he regained his focus and got back to his regular routine. He drowned his thoughts in the rink, and hockey, once again, became his refuge. Providing him with a sense of purpose and a distraction from the pain that weighs on his heart daily.

He still thinks about you every day, though. Thinks about the good memories and our bad, the inside jokes from the late nights, and all the what-ifs.

He wishes he could move on, he really does, but you invade his mind when he least expects it. He could be doing anything, and suddenly he’s daydreaming about you. But finally, he’s learning to keep those thoughts at bay, push them aside and bury them deep when they try to surface.

He knows that suppressing his feeling is bad and that, eventually, it will all bubble to the surface. But it’s easier this way to pretend you don’t matter and try to move on.

One day, after a particularly grueling practice, Jack decides to treat Luke to his favorite bagel place he’s been avoiding. It’s been months since he’s seen you, and what are the odds of seeing you there?

Apparently, really fucking high.

As Jack and Luke enter the bagel place, the familiar smell makes him slightly ache; he tells Luke about his favorite things on the menu. It isn’t until they order, step back and wait that his heart skips a beat and then stands entirely still.

Jack hears you before he sees you, your perfect laugh echoing behind him, his heart melting as you hiccup a bit, continuing to have trouble breathing between chuckles.

His breath catches in his throat, and he doesn’t want to look, but he turns around anyway. There you are, sitting in your favorite corner table. You look a little bit different but still just as beautiful, and every bit the woman he is still hopelessly in love with.

He almost lets a smile cross his face when it’s wiped away before it can even form.

You’re not alone.

You’re sitting across from a guy whose face he can’t see. He’s clad in a tight black t-shirt that shows off his broad shoulders and a backward cap that Jack knows is your favorite way men wear their hats. You’re laughing again at something the guy says, leaning away from the table slightly and rolling your eyes. Even though you’re playing to look annoyed, he can see how your eyes light up with genuine amusement.

Jack feels a million things at once, primarily pain, and it’s coming from his chest. His heart, after repairing itself bit by bit for two long months, is being ripped open all over again.

He genuinely feels bile rise in his throat when Luke nudges him, "Hey, are you alright?"

Jack is utterly speechless, and he can’t even begin to compose himself as Luke follows his stare, his eyes landing on you.

They both watch as the guy at your table leans in closer, his hands finding yours and intertwining them with his own. Jack's stomach churns again as you smile, blush, and laugh again.

Jack has to fight to keep upright, and he knows he has to get the hell out of here. He can't bear to watch any longer, to witness the love of his life be happy with someone else while he’s still broken.

Not waiting for anything, Jack breaks for the door and out into the open air, trying to get more oxygen to his brain.

The next twenty minutes are a blur, and they make their way back to Jacks's apartment. He’s silent, replaying the vision of you with someone else over and over again. He’s hurting harder than he ever thought possible. He felt he was moving on, making progress, forgetting about you. But seeing you with someone else has reopened the wound he tried so hard to heal.

Sitting alone in his room, Jack knows now that pretending you don't matter and burying his feelings deep inside is only a temporary fix. The harsh truth is that he still loves you,

and It kills him that you’re finally moving on.

He should be happy, you’re happy, and when you love someone, that’s all you want. It is for them to be happy. You got what you wanted, a clean break from him, and you found a way to repair yourself from the damage that the relationship has caused you.

An hour later, Luke walks into the room, making sure he’s still there.

“Are you gonna make it?”

It’s a simple question with an extremely difficult answer. He knows deep down that he needs to let you go, focus on himself, and let you be happy without him.

He owes it to himself to try to heal, focus on other things, and hope that one day, you’ll just be someone he used to know.

But for now, he’ll settle for the heartbreak, let his heart mend at its own pace, and think about you. For a little while longer, you’ll be the girl he’s in love with. The girl who made him realizes love is real. The girl who taught him love is cruel. The girl he’s trying to move on from, and one day will, but for now, you’ll be the girl who means everything to him.

“Yeah Lukey, I’ll be okay.”

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

[anime-rambles]

Pairing: Alpha!KiriBaku x Omega!MidoriyaTwinReader

Type: Angst, hurt, forced scenting.

Word Count: Snippet - full parts soon

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support and love for my work, little snippet here of something i've bee working on, almost finished and super excited to share with you all. My drafts are overflowing currently with all the fix's i've been writing, to stay up to date with everything or want to be tagged, I have a new taglist form follow the link below and it will bring you too it. Much love as always, Tiff <3

Summary: You were Midroiya's twin, Bakugou's mate but life isn't easy and one day you were kidnapped, stripped from everything you know. Many years have passed, Bakugou has moved on but only now have you been able to escape, to return to your family. A family that has moved on.

Permanent Tag List: @jasmine2042003 @jazzylove @amypop122 @misssugarless @plutounderbridges @butterscotch-babie @backoftheletter @gojosslvt @himi-yuu @ebiharachan @black-rose-29

MHA Tag List: @hornehlittleweeblet2 @mystiqueewrites @belzeblitz @moonygeno413 @ace-the-side-character @unlogical-ella @moonseye @vaellee @corruptowlette @pasteldaze @24-7-multifandomsimp @yetoadet @ninetyeightrins @kirissluttypebble @elaineplayz @phantomalchemist @tigerd-draws @kunaigirlx44 @jujutaku @adventures-in-a-heartbeat @cmars59 @upinacloud @yourdragonsfire @uwiuwi @burningbluegalaxy @kirislilwhorewife @kuzusouda-and-terumaru-blog @kat-perdue @ebiharachan @lazyafgurl @bratty-fics @eraserheads-sleeping-bag

TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

“OMG DEKU, SHE’S ADORABLE” A high pitched voice sounded in front of your face and all you could see was pink. You backed up a little and didn't make eye contact, opting to hide at Bakugou side.

“Look at that, green hair and all, definitely a Midoriya.” Another voice sounded to your right and someone was pulling at your hair gently. Bakugou just held you tighter, not saying much as he was used to the group. You whimpered slightly and tried to turn away again. You look at Midoriya and he was on the phone calling someone, you assumed it was his mate that was on patrol and you honestly couldn't wait to meet him but right now there were a lot. “Look at those cute freckles” Another voice said really close to you and you whimpered again, Bakguou went to speak but a loud voice sounded from across the room. 

“That’s enough, y/n has come a long way to be here and to join us, you can get to know her soon but right now she’s scared and half of you have to get to work, don't you” Kirishima said and raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. You looked at Kirishima and nodded as a thank you. 

“So she can stay?” Midoriya asked as he put his phone away. Kirishima smiled and made his way to the large couch and sat down. “As if i would say no to your twin and Katsuki’s mate, stupid alphas.” Bakugou laughed and pulled you into a hug. He brought the two of you to the couch that Kirishima was sitting on, and he had placed you in the middle but you weren't squashed near him or anything. Bakugou was just letting you get used to the alpha. Midoriya sat on the other sofa, happily watching you. 

Bakugou reached for the remote and turned on a random film that had come up. He relaxed into the seat and tucked his arm around you. You couldn’t help but look at the mass of red beside you. You stared at this alpha, at his long red hair in a ponytail, you stared at his scar on his face, you stared at his lips and down his neck. You found yourself sniffing the air to see what he smelt like, Kirishima could feel you staring at him so he released some pheromones in the air. His arm that was resting on the back of the sofa was lazily rubbing Bakugou’s arm and his alpha was quite happy with the two of you. Your eyes met and Kirishima gave you a massive grin, causing you to giggle. 

You all could hear a crash at the front door and a lot of shuffling. Kirishima was up in an instant and Bakugou and Midoriya followed standing in front of you.   

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SHINSO, LET ME THROUGH, I NEED TO KNOW SHE'S SAFE,” A voice shouted that you recognised. Kirishima took a step forward and left the room. 

[melloween-candie]

Hold still [C.G]

Bully Carl Gallagher x Bullied Reader

Summary

You've known Carl for a very long time, and for a very long time, he has been picking on you. It started off small but gradually escalated to a much more painful issue. Your friends think he likes you. You think it's the other way around. But Carl, his thinking is different.

A/n - I realized that I have been using the same point of view throughout almost all of my writing, and I figured it was boring to constantly read like that, so I'm changing it up! Anyways the point of view I've been using is secondary. Figured if anyone cared- I am now going to try writing in first person.

Also, I figured I might as well finish this since it's been sitting in my drafts since day one. It's small and simple, I kinda wished I did more to it, but who knows- maybe I'll make a part two for it someday or just recreate it entirely.

Some parts in this fanfiction aren't canon. Meaning it wasn't from the show!!!

Warning: Self-harm, bulling

Word count: 1,443

[Angst/fluff]

Part 1, Part 2

Shameless Masterlist

Fandom Masterlists

/"Talking"//Thinking//Muttering-Whispering/

***Y/n's Pov***

I was cleaning up the bloody mess I made on my wrist. This was the third time this week that I did this to myself. I couldn't help it, though. I've been feeling depressed lately, at least more than usual.

It's not anything in particular. However, my mother would say otherwise. She thinks it's all cause of that "no good Carl." In her own words too. Though she wasn't wrong.

I've known Carl for years, and he hated me ever since we met. I don't know why he hates me; he just does.

I never did anything to him in particular, or at least I don't think so.

"Y/n! You better hurry; otherwise, you'll be late again!"

That was my mother. I should probably go...

"Coming!"

Time skip!~

It was currently breakfast time here at my school. I normally hate breakfast time, along with lunch and free time too... My friends say I'm weird for that, but truth be told, I hate it because of him...

"Yo! Carl!" A random guy yelled. "What's happening?" He says as they get all friendly.

I bit my lips and held my books tighter. All-cause Carl Gallagher just entered the room.

Carl Gallagher... He's umm... something? Most people would call him a bully, especially if they saw the way he treated me, but honestly, I just think he uses me as an excuse to not look weak. After all, back then, during elementary school, he had this reputation of which he'd beat up kids just for looking funny.

Honestly, I envied him about that. Not caring about what anyone else thinks and just doing what feels right to you. I want to live like that.

The bell rings, signaling everyone to head to class.

Oh great. I hate this part. Reason is because I'll have to walk past him and if you were listening, he's not so friendly with me...

"W/n! There you are!" Carl gave you a big smile. "I was looking for you!"

"Ah... it's Y/n..." You said, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. "Never changed the name." You laughed awkwardly, trying to break that uncomfortable feeling.

"Rrright. Anyways! Where's my homework?" Carl didn't sound so friendly no more.

"Right here." You handed him your notebook. "If you could, I'll need tha- and he's gone." You sighed in defeat as you walked towards your first-period class.

I know that was pathetic, and you probably dealt with worst, but that was him being nice. Believe it or not, I got lucky. He was in a good mood this morning soo...

You entered your class and sat down.

Anyways, Carl used to like me. Or at least that's what my friends would always say back when we were still in middle school.

Nowadays, they don't really care about my situation with him anymore. It's old news to them. Which I don't blame them even if they did care; they couldn't change anything about it.

"Y/n? Y/N!"

"Uh?!" You snapped out of your thoughts. "Oh, hey, bff/n. What's up?"

"What's up?! What's up with you? I've been snapping my finger's in front of you for the last minute. What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, it's nothing."

This is bff/n. S/H/T are amazing. In fact, S/H/T is the only one that still cares about well the Carl situation.

"Did Carl do something again?" S/H/T said?

"No. Not exactly..."

"Where's your notebook?" S/H/T asked.

"Uhmm-"

"I KNEW IT! HE TOOK IT AGAIN, DIDN'T HE!"

"Keep it down!"

"Y/n! How can you be okay with this!"

"It's okay, really-!"

"He's tormenting you!" S/H/T interrupted. "Eventually, it'll turn into something way worst!"

"He's been 'tormenting' me for years, and it's never gotten too bad-"

"TOO BAD?!" S/H/T yelled. "He gave you your first panic attack! He embarrassed you countless of times..."

And there S/H/T goes. This is going to take a while.

You rested your head on the palm of your hand as the teacher walked through the door. Closing it, signaling that class is about to begin.

Time skip!~

"Look, Y/n. I'm just worried about you. Every year Carl does this to you, and only you; for some reason, doesn't that make you feel somewhat uncomfortable?"

"I mean... Eh?" You shrugged your shoulders. As your best friend groans in irritation.

"Look, Y/n. There's a 50% chance he likes you, and the other 50%, well, who knows but try to fight back or at least say something!"

"Ughh, bff/n. You know that will only make him mad," I said as I grabbed my math book for my next class. "And besides, as long as I don't irritate him, I'll be fine."

"Yeah, well, still..."

Time Skip~

Math class was as irritating as usual. Carl being Carl, kept throwing paper balls at me. Him and his group of friends kept snickering to themselves, making it a little hard to concentrate... Why did the teacher assign me to sit next to these people... ugh.

Anyways that's not the worst part. The worst part was when we got our homework papers back. Normally I would get really good grades in math, but today I got a B+. I rolled my eyes in aggravation. I have to bump this grade back up.

However, I thought it was only my grade that dropped... When I got into the hallway, Carl grabbed me unexpectedly.

"What the h*ll is this?!" He held his homework paper to my face as his other arm held onto my shoulder, pushing me against the lockers. The people just walked on past, pretending they didn't see anything.

"Uhhh..."

"Uh- UH?! Don't act stupid!" He yelled tauntingly. "You're supposed to be the smartest person in our grade! So why do I have a B on this paper?!"

"Look I'm sorry but It was just hard for me to focus during that lesson-"

"THE HEL* DO YOU MEAN HARD?!"

"Well- Well, maybe if you'd stop throwing paper balls at me, I could have focused better!"

Uh oh. That was the moment I knew I had screwed up... Carl's face turned bright red with anger as he dragged me towards the janitor's closet.

It was dark and dusty in there; it was like barely anyone ever cleans in there.

"Listen you! I told you before I gave you my homework- give me an A, or I'll kick your as*!"

I don't know what's gotten into me lately, but I said something I thought I never would-

"Why?! Why do you even care? I mean, you've never cared about anyone or anything before, so why do you care so much about your grade?!"

"Are you stupid or something? I don't, but football does. If I don't keep a good grade average, I'll get kicked off, and if I get kicked off, I'll kick you off this EARTH!" His hold on me grew tighter. I couldn't help but back up; because of this, he pushed forward.

"Ow!" I squealed. I could feel the blood starting to droop down my arm. I didn't realize this, but there were a lot of sharp objects in here... or at least it felt like it. With that, Carl grabbed the dangling on switch, turning on the lights.

He didn't notice at first, but eventually, he saw the blood. He looked at it and then looked back at me. He still had that irritated look on his face as he continued to hold onto his homework.

"Tch." He quickly grabbed my arm and pushed back the sleeves. I couldn't even react. "What the he*l?" His tone became quieter, but if his face could speak, it'd say something like, "Seriously? Cutting yourself? You're so weak."

Then without even saying anything, he started looking for something, not letting go of my wrist while doing so.

"Wha- What are you doing?" I said as he yanked my arm. He then clearly found what he was looking for, but the closet was a little too small, so I couldn't really see what he was starting at. He grabbed it, and I heard this taring sound. To my surprise, he was holding a piece of tissue, cleaning up my wound.

"You need to be more careful." He grumbled.

Huh?!?! I was so confused by this. He must have assumed that those cuts and scares were all accidental...? But what's weirder about this is why- why does he care?!

Maybe my friends were right... at least in a way. I blushed at the thought. Maybe he did like me, at least a little...

A/n

I wanted to give the reader the feeling as if Y/n is actually talking to you, as if you are the voice in, well, your own head. Or if you want you can think of it as you talking to an invisible friend in your head. Which ever works for you.~

[alrightberries]

seasons change

PAIRING: dabi x reader

SUMMARY: in which you and dabi are childhood best friends who are bad with feelings.

alternatively, all the words unspoken between you and dabi are summarized with just one short word: goodbye.

TAGS & WARNINGS: implied sex, smoking, kinda unhealthy relationship, implied body horror (it's dabi)

a/n: this has been rotting in my drafts for so long; i wrote this before dabi's backstory was officially revealed no one come for me for the wonky timeline

—

six.

you didn't like cleaning houses. or, a better way of putting it was, you didn't like cleaning someone else's house six days a week, four weeks a month, twelve months a year.

days always ended with back pain and scraped knees from the intense floor scrubbing, and you didn't like the way the wet rags would leave your fingers wrinkled and cramping.

your mom insisted that cleaning was fun because it built character and discipline. you insisted that it wasn't fun, and that cleaning your house was much easier than cleaning a mansion (but, really now, anything was a mansion to you compared to your one bedroom house).

"okay, how about we play another game?" your mom asks with a teasing smile. "whoever cleans the mops the fastest, wins!"

it was five o'clock in the evening and you were tired— your shoulders and elbows hurt and at this point you were ready to pass out in your futon back at home. but work is from seven to seven, and you still had to polish the gym's... red mill? treck mill? you can't remember what they were called.

"but momma, i'm tired." you whined. "can we go home now? i wanna go to school tomorrow."

the wide smile on your mom's face gets smaller, and you don't know how to describe it. she was smiling but why did she seem sad? smiles weren't meant to be sad.

"maybe you should skip school tomorrow too. don't you want to spend more time with momma?"

you do want to spend more time with momma, but you've been skipping school for two months now. you miss your friends. you miss when work was play, and play was play, and play was fun.

when you don't reply, your mom sighs and kneels on the floor, fingers lifting your chin to meet her eyes. "tell you what. how about you rest for now, okay? i'll clean up the mops and polish the treadmills, you stay here. if anyone comes in, just pretend to be cleaning, okay?"

"okay!"

her foot steps pad away when she slides the big door close, and you sigh when you finally sit down for the first time in what felt like hours. but just as soon as the doors slid close, they opened again, and you tense. you knew it wasn't your mom, mom always knocks.

"oh— uh, sorry." a boy, probably the son of your mom's client, murmurs in surprise. his white hair is the first thing you notice, his blue eyes (were they blue? maybe green?) the second. "i saw L/N-san leave the gym and thought you were finished."

"we're almost done," was the only thing you managed to say softly, before— "oh!" you dipped into a deep bow. "good evening, todorki-sama."

"ugh, sama?" you don't see but the boy grimaces. "don't call me that, you make me sound so old."

"i'm sorry, todoroki—"

"—san."

"okay, todoroki-san."

"...you can stop bowing now," he laughs awkwardly, and you straighten up. "my dad says i'm not supposed to talk to you."

"mom says I’m not supposed to talk to you either."

"oh."

a moment passes, and neither of you know what to say. you were still staring at the floor and fiddling with your hands while waiting for him to talk or leave or... something.

suddenly, todoroki clears his throat, awkwardly shifting around. "why don't the adults want us to talk?"

"i don't—"

"todoroki touya!" a firm voice booms from the doorway, and you grab a rag and start polishing the reck mill. you don't turn around when you hear todorki approach his father, footsteps fading away and the door sliding shut again.

no more than a minute later, your mom came back. she lifted your chin again and gave you a kiss on the forehead, small smile on her face when she grabbed a rag to help you clean.

she looked paler than she did when she left, and you don't mention it when you notice her fingers start shaking. you don't mention the red stuff on the white handkerchief peeking out of her pocket, either.

eight.

"i'm bored."

"okay."

"i'm bored."

"i heard you."

"y/n, i'm bored."

"what am i supposed to do about it?"

"...entertain me."

you smile. "entertain you how?"

"tell me about your quirk," todoroki said one day, mindlessly tapping his pencil on the table. there was some kind of math written on the papers in front of him, but it was gibberish in your eyes— you could, just barely, read and count, but you don't know what business a triangle has being surrounded by numbers and the ABCs.

"i don’t have one, todorki-san."

"touya-kun, i told you to call me touya-kun." he grumbles, and you giggle.

"okay, touya-kun." you don't know why touya kept talking to you— he was probably bored, like he said, and maybe lonely— but you liked his company.

"did the counselor say you were quirkless?"

"no," you adjust your grip on the broom. "mom says we can't afford quirk counseling, but she's quirkless so i probably am too."

"don't schools have free quirk counseling?"

school. huh, you haven't thought of that in a while. so you shrug. "i wouldn't know, i don't go to school anymore."

"really?!" he screeches, and you nod. a long, bored groan escapes his lips, and you laugh when be dramatically flops down on the floor. "you're so lucky!"

not really, you wanted to say. i'm just lucky you're homeschooled so i'm not alone. speaking of which—

"are those from training again?" you eye the bruises that litter his arms. you don't think you've ever seen him without a bruise in the years you've known each other.

"yeah, dad's been really strict lately," he says, and you don't get the chance to ask him more about it because there's a knock on the door. you step away from him, going back to sweeping the room just as his mom comes in with a tray of food in her hands, and touya lets out a yell of happiness.

she teases him about his unfinished math homework before she leaves, and you try to ignore the smell of miso and fish his mom made for him. when was the last time you ate? was it yesterday or the other day? you couldn't remember.

"d'you want some?" touya asks when he hears your tummy grumble embarrassingly loud. but you decline. "no, it's okay. your mom made those for you."

"she made too much though, and i don't want it to go to waste."

liar. you've seen him eat, he could eat two servings of what he had now and still ask for dessert. but you keep quiet this time, putting down the broom and accepting todoroki's invitation when he pats the spot next to him.

"haven't you eaten lunch yet?" he asks, and you quietly shake your head as he lends you his chopsticks.

"well, why not?"

"i don't know how to cook."

"doesn't your mom cook for you?"

"she does, but she's in the hospital."

touya tries to think of the past week and realizes he hasn't seen her around, not even heard her voice to call you from another room. so he asks, "is she going to be okay?"

"maybe? the nice doctor said she'll be fine." you reply. touya only nods.

he slips two rice balls in your bag just before you leave that day, telling you to give one to your mom when she gets back from the hospital.

"oh! and tell her i said hi."

he keeps slipping you rice balls after that because you never got to tell her he said hi, and you never got to tell her goodbye, either.

eleven.

there are sniffles coming from touya's room.

the sniffles make you pause mid-polish of a large and empty vase in the hallway, and you've been awkwardly standing in front of his door for a good six minutes now, unsure what to do. should you go get his parents? no, that would make it seem like you were eavesdropping on their son. should you knock? yeah, knocking seemed like a good choice.

so you do; three soft knocks on his door, and suddenly the sniffles stop.

"touya?" you call out, knocking again. "it's me."

there's a moment of silence before the door hesitantly cracks open. he doesn't open it all the way at first, one eye peeking out to make sure it really was you. the door opens fully this time, and you're confused when he peers around the empty hallway, eyes lingering to make sure no one was there, before yanking you inside, arms wrapping around your waist and his head tucking into the crook of your neck.

"touya, what are you—"

"please stay with me," came his little squeak, followed by more sniffles and his body wracking from his ragged breaths. an arm wraps around his torso, the other one cradling the back of his head as you shushed him and reassured him, slowly rocking both your bodies back and forth.

"do you want to talk about it?" you ask quietly, and touya shakes his head, burrowing deeper into you.

you nod. "it's okay, you don't have to."

your words were calm and reassuring but internally you were panicking. all the hairs on your body stood on its end because there was this... smell, one that you could only compare to a mixture of butane and a burning dumpster.

burning skin, your brain horrifically corrected, and every fibre of your being was screaming at you to get the hell out of there.

but then you realize where the smell is coming from, and its only when you lean back do you realize touya's arms were red and raw. how the hell did you not see that before?

"your arms—"

"i know," he cuts you off, voice nasally and choked up. "i don't want to talk about it. you said we didn't have to talk about it."

you sigh, gently coaxing him from where he was still buried in the crook of your neck, and his grip on you only tightens. "i'm not leaving, i promise." your hand begins to rub reassuring circles on his back. "i just want you to look at me."

when you coax him out again, he obliges, but still doesn't look at you. so you do the first thing that came to mind— a habit learned from a hazy memory of your mother.

fingers gently grasped the bottom of his chin, gently lifting up his gaze before soft lips place a small kiss on his forehead. he freezes at first, but he gradually melts into your gentle touch, once again burrowing his face into the crook of your neck as you whispered small reassurances into his ear.

the following day, touya's eyes were a little dimmer and he wore nothing but long sleeved shirts.

fourteen.

When you first came to work on a random Tuesday afternoon, the entire Todoroki estate was quiet. This was normal. They were a family who spoke to each other quietly, never raising their voice or making a ruckus (except for Endeavor). What wasn’t normal, however, was the somber mood that seemed to loom the entire house as a woman with white hair and red streaks— the eldest Todoroki sister, you remember— wordlessly gave you your list of chores for the day before locking herself in her room.

The atmosphere made you uncomfortable. It didn’t help that Touya didn’t even attempt to bother you the entire day either, but you didn’t think much of it. He was probably doing his homework in the study or training somewhere else.

So it came as a surprise to you when, just as you were walking through the park on your way back home, the smell of burnt flesh reached your nose once again and all the hair in your body stood up. Your instincts screamed at you to run, something you undoubtedly would’ve done had a hand not shot out from underneath the bushes and tripped you, forcing you to fall on the ground and meet two familiar turquoise eyes— hidden in the shrubbery— staring into your own.

After getting over your initial shock you took Touya back to the house your mother had left behind. Normally you wouldn’t be allowed to keep a house if you were underage, but lucky for you things the government mixed up your files and you were allowed to inherit it with no next of kin or legal guardians. The house fell to your name, and it was all you had left.

“I- Touya, I don’t know what to do.” You panicked, staring at the angry red flesh on his arms and upper torso. He was lying down on your tiny kitchen table, shirtless and pants charred. Your cleaning gloves did little to hide the shake of your hands, the visual of him in pain and surrounded by bloodied rags. “I can’t treat you. We need to call the hospital—”

“Don’t.” He rasped weakly, breathing heavy. You noticed that the underside of his eyes were burnt as well. Didn’t it hurt him to blink? “You can’t.”

“Why not?!”

“My family thinks I’m dead.”

sixteen.

Around spring, you finally had the guts to resign from your job at the Todoroki household and pursue another one. It wasn’t anything big— just a small waitressing job at a curry restaurant a couple blocks away from your neighborhood. Still, the pay was okay and you didn’t have to watch a family mourn the loss of a son you were secretly harboring.

You weren’t sure exactly what prompted you to let him stay. He told you a little bit of his life— why he did what he did, and though you sympathized with him fully was it really right for you to keep him around?

Maybe it was the feeling of being indebted to him every time you pretended not to see him slip an extra cup of rice or an extra bowl of soup into your take home meals. Maybe it was the feeling of being thankful when he secretly lent you books so you could improve your skills on reading and writing. Maybe it was the feeling of guilt from not making him tell you what was bothering him on the day you heard him crying, convinced that if you had then you wouldn’t be here now. You weren’t sure— but you were glad you let him stay.

“Hey, I’m home.” You called out tiredly, dumping your keys in your bag. A puff of white hair peaked out from behind the couch, and you couldn’t help the amusement in your eyes as you stared at Touya.

“Got another piercing, I see.” You mused as you set down the bag of curry on the diningroom table. Touya didn’t reply as he silently extinguished his cigarette and helped you set the table.

Ever since the day he faked his own death, he’s been... different, to say the least, and you weren’t surprised at all.

He’s been more closed off, more quiet. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t like being a “jobless deadbeat” (his words, not yours) while you worked your ass off to support the two of you; or if it was because he wasn’t used to living “the poor life” (again, his words not yours) compared to his previous life of luxury.

You didn’t have much to offer; just an old but well-kept house that's seen better days, a large futon you and your mother shared, and a life living paycheck to paycheck and buried in debt while he busied himself with chores and whatever he could do around the small house.

Three meals a day wasn’t guaranteed with your budget so you had to cut it down to two a day at most. And even then, there’d be times you’d only eat once. Meals were usually composed of either canned food, instant noodles, leftovers, or raw ingredients that were close to going bad. Touya had never had anything that wasn’t fresh or organic, and the first few weeks were a struggle for his stomach to adjust. But with how he first came to you, his delicate stomach was the least of his problems.

The burns on his skin weren’t treated properly thanks to your limited medical knowledge. You had to keep them bandaged the first couple months he’d stayed with you, and since you couldn’t afford both painkillers and clean bandages at the same time, there was nothing to numb Touya to the pain. Fortunately, he healed just fine. Yet he refused to take off the bandages and let you see the dark purple marks where his tan skin used to be.

You knew it still hurt him to move but you also knew that if you tried to stop him he’d only throw a fit. Doing chores around the house and keeping things clean was, according to him, the least he could do to help. He didn’t clean as well as someone who does it for a living, but his efforts to keep your shared home tidy didn’t go unappreciated. He was fairly okay at cooking simple things that only needed frying or boiling— nothing too complex since he’s never really had a need to cook for himself, much less for another person. Housework was his way of saying thank you, and you weren’t about to take it away from him.

“I don’t understand how you always come home with two curry bowls.” Touya finally speaks, and you’re snapped out of your thoughts. “Thought the restaurant only let you have one free take away per day. Do you buy me this shit every night?”

“Yeah, sure, I can definitely do that with my salary.” You replied. “Nah. Luckily one of the line cooks has a thing for me and doesn’t mind slipping me an extra meal. He thinks I have it for breakfast in the morning.”

He scoffs but doesn’t reply.

seventeen.

“Help me dye my hair black,” was the first thing he said when you asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. You had a little bit of money set aside for a present. Nothing too expensive or grand, but just enough that you could actually afford something out of your tightly monitored expenses— monitored by none other than your roommate— that wasn’t cup noodles.

You didn’t hesitate to run to the nearest drugstore to buy cheap black dye and help him with his hair. Black water trickled down the drain as you held the shower head over his hair.

“What’s it look like, doll?” He asked.

“You look like a really ugly wet dog.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who grinded on me like a bitch in heat last night.”

You chuckled. Well, you couldn’t argue with that.

He stopped wearing his bandages months ago. It was a miracle that you found an under the table doctor who agreed to help patch him up for a reasonable price. You already computed everything— the operation that involved putting staples around his arms, face and torso was cheaper than buying fresh bandages every damn day. It’d take the better part of at least three years to pay off, but seeing him grow to embrace the silver studs on his burnt body the way he embraced his beloved ear piercings made you smile.

He’s been starting to go out of the house, too. He doesn’t tell you where he goes— not that he had to— but you were glad he stopped cooping himself up inside.

“You look good, Tou- sorry, Dabi.” You murmured.

His hands were gripping the sides of the tub as you continued to wash the excess dye from his hair, and you pretend not to notice the familiar smell of burnt flesh sticking to his jacket despite the fact that you knew his burns were already healed. You also pretend not to notice the new clothes he wore that definitely weren’t in his closet this morning.

“You look good.”

nineteen.

Dabi only got rougher from there.

He became more crude in the way he spoke, and sometimes he’d disappear for days on end without a single word. You got nervous the first few times he did it, scolding him and telling him to never make you worry like that ever again (he still did).

He’d roll his eyes and yell at you to back off, he wasn’t your boyfriend, stop being so damn clingy. You hated those fights the most. They usually ended with Dabi sleeping on the couch or storming out, and you angry crying yourself to sleep at night. The only thing that brought you comfort was that he always came back.

“I’m heading out, don’t wait up for me.” He spoke, putting on his coat.

“Are you going to come back within the week?”

“I don’t know.”

You sighed. “Okay. Take care.”

It’d be hypocriticial to say his secrets bothered you because he wasn’t the only one with secrets. Even with your promotion at the restaurant, even with you working overtime and taking extra shifts to the point that you barely got any sleep, money was still tight. Bills were getting steeper, banks were demanding money from your debts, and groceries were getting more expensive.

It was the line cook that kept flirting with you that introduced you to the scene of underground poker. He was a gambler and decided to take you to one of his games in an attempt to impress you (not knowing about your live in not-boyfriend). He won every game that night and started taking you to all his matches, saying he always played better when he was with you. Even called you his “lucky ace.” You only rolled your eyes but let him show you off so long as he kept slipping you extra dinner every night. That was, until, you learned the ropes and became a gambler yourself and quickly made a name in the underground scene.

Dabi wasn’t dumb. He knew that the money you magically found to pay off his operation from two years ago as well as your debt to the hospital that treated your mother wasn’t from your savings. He knew that the fresh meat and vegetables you started buying from the market weren’t there because the grocer had a sale. And he damn well knew that you secretly quit your job at the restaurant even though you acted like you were still employed, even going as far as putting on your old uniform whenever you left for “work.”

And yet, just like you never questioned where he suddenly got the money to contribute to the household, he never questioned where you got yours.

twenty-one.

It was around your second year of being a professional underground poker player did your secret get revealed to Dabi. You were too careless. The sudden transfer to a “restaurant branch” in the city. The expensive clothes and unexplained budget for much needed home renovations. The appearance of painkillers and anti-irritation ointment (that he definitely didn’t buy) in his bedside drawer. The stash of card decks— clearly only used once at most— that you hid in a duffel bag in your closet.

Dabi didn’t comment on these.

He did, however, comment on the elegenat white and gold invitation to a professional poker match set for this Friday evening, addressed to an infamous masked player who had a record of never losing a single match. How could he not comment on it when you so generously left it out in the open.

“I knew you were up to some gambling but I didn’t expect you to be the infamous Lucky Ace.” He mused one night, holding the prestigious cardboard between his fingertips. He was sure if he tried to sell the invitation he’d get some money for it— he knows what real gold feels like when he touches it. “Never thought it’d be you. They say Lucky Ace’s Quirk is luck. The manipulation of probabilities, both of others and your own.”

You merely chuckled in amusement. You weren’t blessed with the Quirk of luck— you just happened to be a skilled gambler.

“I’ve had a lot of offers for your head.”

“And I’ve had a lot competition who turned up dead and burnt to a crisp before my matches.” You replied. “Thanks for that, by the way. I haven’t received a single paycheck in weeks.”

Ah, that too. Dabi was also getting careless. You definitely knew he was a kill for hire, and you definitely knew he was employed under another professional poker player who wanted to get to the top the easy way. You had a feeling he’s been the cause for your competitors sudden disappearances, and the unexplained duffel bags full of cash that sat next to yours didn’t help.

“Looks like we’ve both been careless.” He lazily threw the invitation to you. “Do me a favor— lose your match with Black Jack tomorrow, will ya? Now that I know who Lucky Ace is, boss won’t be happy that I let you live.”

You scoff. “You want me to lose to a guy who’s initials spell out blowjob? The hell do you take me for?”

Normally he loved your sharp tongue and crude jokes, but right now it wasn’t helping. The bounty on Lucky Ace’s head was too big to pass up, and if you won against Black Jack— his boss— tomorrow then the prize would only double. He wouldn’t be the only one out for your head by then.

He sighed, raising up one hand to show you the spark of blue flames. Intimidate you. He was trying to intimidate you. Or warn you— you didn’t fucking know.

But you merely smirked. “Wanna fuck?”

His eye twitched, and he pondered it for a few seconds. Groaning, he extinguished the flame.

“You’re lucky you’re a good lay.”

twenty-two.

It was in the afterglow of sex that words unspoken revealed themselves.

Well, sort of.

Two sweaty bodies, panting next to each other. The smell of cigarettes and hormones thick in the air. The feeling of lips placing a kiss to your forehead as you wrapped the sheets around your torso, turning as you looked at the man beside you.

“What would you do if you found out I was secretly dating that line cook you hated so much?” You asked. His arm lazily wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you closer, your head resting on his chest. Dabi took a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling, thinking it through. You took the stick from his hand and took a drag of your own.

“Damn, that’s good.” You murmured. “Not even reds can beat seven stars.”

He took the cigarette back from you and flicked off the ashes on the tray next to the bed.

“If you were dating what’s-his-name but still ask me to fuck you at least twice a week then he’s gotta be a virgin or some shit.” He finally replies. “That, or the poor guy’s dick isn’t enough to satiate you.”

“So... you’d be okay with it?”

“Does it matter? I’m not your boyfriend.”

“You could be, y’know.” You murmured, tracing your finger against his collarbone. “My boyfriend— I mean.”

“Sorry, doll. M’not interested in being your mistress.”

You clicked your tongue. “I’m not dating him, you dumbass. It was a hypothetical question.”

That was the closest you and Dabi ever got to a confession. That was the closest you ever got to asking him out after years of sexual tension that turned out to be romantic.

And the little kisses you peppered across his callous knuckles was the closest you ever got to saying “I love you.”

Fortunately, Dabi didn’t reject you or push you away. Instead he stayed the night cuddled up to you, holding your hand and waiting for you to fall asleep before slipping out of your hold and disappearing in the middle of the night for a job, just like he always did.

That was the closest he ever got to saying “I love you too.”

twnety-three.

Dabi doesn’t like telling you shit.

At least, not when you’re awake. He did, however, have a lot of silent conversations with you when you’re asleep. His trips home became fewer and further in between, and every time he stayed he’d only stay the night or for three days at most. You tried to ask him about it once but he was always vague with his answers.

He tells you he doesn’t care, and you tell him you don’t either. He pretends not to notice when you buy the expensive brand of miso broth with your own money because you knew it was the one thing he missed from his old life. You pretend not to notice the fresh cup of tea and warm bento boxes that you wake up to whenever he leaves after his rare visits.

He doesn’t talk that much about his feelings— not out loud. But he does find himself pulling your sleeping form, clad in nothing but your underwear and one of his shirts, closer to him at night. He finds his arm tightening around your waist and his nose burying itself in the back of your neck to inhale the scent that was unmistakably you, trying to remember it always.

I have to leave you again. He thinks to himself, staring at your peaceful face. I’m not sure if I’m coming back this time.

An invite had been extended to him— from a group that called themselves the League of Villains. It sounded pretentious, he wasn’t even going to lie, but they were aligned enough in terms of ideals that he didn't immediately tell them to fuck off. Still, there was no denying that they were a dangerous bunch. Your not-so-secret lifestyles were separate and there was a mutual unspoken rule that you wouldn’t involve the other.

Unlike your secret job, though, that involved you getting dressed in branded clothes and adorning fancy rings and expensive watches; that involved luxurious invitations to secret upscale poker games; that involved a black sedan that seemed to change number plates every time he saw it pull up to the front of the house to pick you up and drop you off; his job was much more dangerous. He worked with dangerous people, doing dangerous things, playing with dangerous ideals.

He already knew— despite your denial— that your Quirk was definitely luck. Too many things that could be brushed off as coincidence had luckily fallen into your lap. Too many coincidences was no longer a coincidence.

It was your Quirk protecting you, not him, when he kisses your forehead and slips out of your hold for what would be the last time to keep you from harm. At least that’s what he tells himself as gathers his clothes and belongings from around the house, trying to make it look like he was never there. He was a dangerous criminal— a villain now, and he’d be damned if he dragged you into his mess.

He takes one last look at you asleep on your shared futon, trying to burn the image to his mind so he never forgets. He wasn’t going to bring anything that could be traced back to you. He already blocked your contact and deleted all the photos he had of you on his phone, all the messages and call logs too. He’s already done the same process to your phone since you never changed your passcode.

Not a trace of you in his life and not a trace of him in yours, he tells himself as he eyes the shirt you wore. It was his. You could keep it, he guesses. He could just strip you down and get on with life, but he couldn’t do it without waking you up and messing up his plans. At least, that’s what he tries to convince himself as he walks away.

He’s got his coat on now and he left you a little bit of cash just in case. Not that you needed it, of course. You were a professional gambler who made more bank than he did. A black duffel bag’s slung over his shoulder that had all his stuff, and he’s giving the small house he called home one last once over to make sure there was never any indication that he was in your life. Will you hate him for leaving? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care if you forgive him or not. This was to keep you safe. This was for the best.

He admires you for the last time as he slides the door open, sighing as he finally admits his feelings— for the first and last time— into the dark of the night.

“I love you, doll.”

And he pretends not to hear the faint whisper behind him when he closes the door.

“I love you too, Dabi.”