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#and everything he worked hard to get rid of in her in order to make her strong

phoward89 · 3 months

Text

Based on this ask

Coriolanus Snow knew firsthand the deadly risks of childbirth, considering he watched in horror as a young child when his own mother and baby sister died, but he knew that he needed an heir to carry on the Snow name. When he planned on marrying for hate, well, he could care less what happened to his wife during the delivery.

But, somehow, all his plans and views on marriage changed when he met you. You were hired as his secretary, so you spent a lot of time with him. Coriolanus never planned on falling in love with you, but he did. Hell, he even killed your boyfriend in order to make you single again so you'd be able to go out with him.

And when you accepted his offer of dinner, which came with a single white rose, a few months after the death of your longtime boyfriend, he did everything in his power to make you fall in love with him. Coriolanus was successful, you fell hard and fast for him. He was too charming not to let wiggle into your heart, and into your bed.

The president needed a first lady, so he proposed and married you. But it was a bit scandalous, considering you were his secretary. After a couple of negative articles in the media, well, Coriolanus got rid of the writers and made sure that the studios and printing presses in the Capitol (all of Panem actually) knew that if another foul word was printed about his relationship with his wife then he'd kill every single person in the media office.

Safe to say, only articles praising President Snow and First Lady Snow’s love and glamorous life hit the press after that.

And then, of course, came the subject of children. After discussing it, you stopped taking birth control. And you ended up getting pregnant right away.

Seeing you so round with his child gave Coriolanus joy. Gave him an ego boost because he was the one to plant his seed in you. You were carrying his child. His precious baby.

The baby was no longer looked at as an heir, but as a baby to love.

And it was all because of you.

“Coryo, I have my top list of baby names finished.” You told your husband, who was lounging in bed wearing only a pair of sleep pants.

Coryo watched as you sat across the room, placing his fountain pen back into its holder after writing down the final name on your baby name list.

After discussing it, you both decided to wait until the baby was born to discover the gender. You wanted to be surprised and Coriolanus just wanted you to be happy.

“Are you going to let me see it, my darling?” Your platinum blonde husband asked as you slowly stood up from his corner desk.

Placing a hand on your large belly, you smiled, “Of course I'm going to let you see it.”

Grabbing the list, you slowly walked over to the bed. After getting into bed, you handed the list to your husband. “Tell me what ones you like, Mister President.”

Coryo kissed your cheek and smiled. “Of course, First Lady Snow.”

He read over the list, only to discover that you had more boys' names than girls written down. After giving it some thought, he told you, “Cassian Xandros is perfect for our son. It's a strong name.” Mulling it over, he pointed to a name on the paper and announced, "Cersei sounds nice for a girl.”

“It's not nice, Coryo, it's beautiful.” You countered, pulling the list out of his hands. “Looks like the baby has a name; all we need to do is wait for it to come.”

The day your daughter Cersei Snow was born was the day that your husband decided to hate her.

The day didn't start out with him hating his baby girl.

No, it started with your water breaking and a trip to the hospital. Coriolanus canceled all of his meetings, briefings, and work for the day just to be by your side.

He was very supportive during your labor. Letting you hold his hand during painful contracts, smoothing your hair back away from your sweaty face with a damp rag, and buzzing the nurse multiple times for both ice chips and pain medication for you.

The nurses all gossiped amongst each other about how President Snow was the perfect doting husband and and father to be. That he'd make a very good father.

Little did they know.

Little did anyone know what would happen once the doctor came into the room and announced that it was time to start pushing.

Coriolanus was by your side as you pushed and pushed. With every push he noticed you were getting weaker and it worried him.

Looking between your weak, pale form, and the doctor that was sitting at the bottom of your bed, Coriolanus asked, “Dr. Wellock, my wife's growing weaker. Is there something you can do to get the baby out?”

“There's nothing to be worried about, President Snow. Labor’s a strenuous event; many first time mothers grow fatigue and can push for a while before the baby crowns.” The doctor told your husband, more or less blowing off his concern.

You were exhausted but determined to have your baby. Even tho you were feeling dizzy, you continued to bear down and push every time you were told to.

Then, when you felt that you didn't have any more strength coursing thru your body, you gave birth to your baby.

You saw Dr. Wellock hold up the baby and announce, “It's a girl.” Suddenly, your vision began to get fuzzy as you heard the doctor ask your husband, “President Snow, would you like to cut the cord?”

Coriolanus was about to answer whenever he saw you faint, paired with blood pooling around your legs and staining the bed.

“What's wrong with my wife?!” Coriolanus asked, fear filling him as the doctor quickly cut the baby's cord and tossed her to a waiting nurse. “Dr. Wellock, is my wife dying?!” Coriolanus asked in a panicked scream, while the nurse quickly cleaned the baby and wrapped her into a blanket.

“Your wife's hemorrhaging, President Snow.” Dr. Wellock told your husband, only to point to the nurse and tell her, “Give him the baby and get him out of here.”

So, the nurse dumped the baby in Coriolanus' arms and pushed him out of the door. Before the president could blink, the door was slammed shut I'm his face.

As Dr. Wellock and his nurse worked to staunch your bleeding; save your life, your husband stood outside of your room with your newborn baby girl in his arms.

Coriolanus looked down at the tiny baby wriggling and crying in his hold, only to look at the door of your room and realize that you're dying because of the thing in his arms.

Cersei’s what the two of you decided to name her, when she wasn't a danger. Wasn't the reason you're dying.

Coriolanus felt disgust and hatred for the newborn in his arms. He didn't want to hold her anymore. She was the reason why you're knear death right now.

So, your husband found a nurse to pawn the baby on.

Coriolanus swore to himself that he'd never touch that evil little creature ever again. That he'd never love her.

It didn't matter if you lived or died, he was going to hate your daughter until the day he died.

You didn't die in childbirth, but it was a close call. The doctor explained that you had bad hemorrhaging due to your uterus not contracting correctly after the birthing process, causing uncontrollable bleeding. You were given a blood transfusion, once Dr. Wellock managed to stop the bleeding, due to your blood pressure being too low after such a large blood loss.

You were out of it for days, but you survived.

You were happy to be alive and with your family. Coriolanus and Cersei.

But it didn't take long for you to notice that Coriolanus never picked up your daughter. He never held her, hell, Coryo never seemed too interested in her.

Unless it was for a photo op. Then he turned into the perfect hands on dad that would pose for pictures. But as soon as the cameras stop flashing, the president stops caring about his daughter.

You thought that Coriolanus would get over it; would come to accept your daughter in time. But…sadly…your daughter's first birthday is fastly approaching and your husband still doesn't seem interested in her, unless it's for a photo op.

It saddened you, knowing that Coriolanus was offish to Cersei because she wasn't the son he probably wanted to carry on the Snow name. You loved your daughter and you were sure that your Coryo loved her too, but was just disappointed that she wasn't the strong son he probably had his heart set on.

He did pick out a boy name right off the bat when you handed him your list of baby names last year.

Maybe if Coryo had a son to carry on the Snow name, he'd be happier in his role of fatherhood?

Coriolanus walked into the sunroom only to cringe when he saw you coddling Cersei. The damn little creature nearly murdered you during the birthing process, but you were holding her as she napped on you.

Goodness, there was a portable cradle in the room for a reason.

“She's nearly a year old, you shouldn't be letting her sleep on you like that.” Coriolanus told you, taking a seat at the small tea table. He never even tried to hide the disgust in his voice.

“There's nothing wrong with holding her, Coryo? She's my baby girl.” You responded, causing your husband to just shake his head while reaching for the teapot that was in the middle of the table.

“She's a toddler now, darling. She's not a baby anymore.” Coriolanus scoffed, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Do you want to have afternoon tea with me, or are you going to coddle Cersei all day?” He asked, grabbing a macaron and placing it onto the small plate that was in front of him.

“I'll have tea with you, Coryo.” You thinly smiled, only to rise from your spot on the sofa and place your daughter into her portable crib.

As you made your way over to the table, your husband fixed you a cup of tea and plated you macarons. When you sat down, you decided that now was the time to bring up the subject of having more children.

Little did you know, after your near death experience, Coriolanus got himself snipped. So…it was impossible for you to have any more children.

But he wasn't going to tell you that.

Reaching for your teacup, you told your husband,“Coryo, I think we should have another baby.”

“No.” Was Coriolanus’ quick and cold reply.

“But, we could have a son this time “ You pressed, knowing that your husband wanted a son. Wanted the Snow name to live on.

But you were wrong. Coriolanus didn't want a son to carry on the Snow name, he wanted you alive to be by his side. He loves you to the point of obsessive possession. The love Coriolanus has for you is all consuming, like a plague of locusts devouring an entire field of crops in District 11.

Coryo took a long sip of his tea, only to cut eyes with you over his teacup and firmly say, “I said no, Y/N.” placing his teacup down, he gave you the lame excuse of, “I'm a very busy man, my little dove. Being president takes much of my time away from my fatherly duties; we can only handle raising one child. More than one would be too much for us, considering you refuse a nanny.”

“I told you when I was pregnant with Cersei that I want to raise our kids. I don't want somebody else raising them, no matter how it might be easier considering your role in politics.”

“My role in politics?” Coriolanus chuckled, biting into his macaron. “I'm the President of Panem, that's more than just a role in politics.”

Sipping on your tea, you sighed, “Fine, Cersei’ll be an only child.”

Grabbing your hand in his, Coryo promised, “Our daughter will never want for anything. She'll be showered in a life of luxury.”

That wasn't true. Your daughter grew up wanting her father's love, but she never got it. Coriolanus was always so distant and cold with Cersei.

She hated him, but that was fine with your husband since he hated her right back.

You always thought that your husband resented your daughter for not being a son, for not being able to carrying on the might and noble Snow name.

But that wasn't the case at all.

Coriolanus Snow hated his daughter, Cersei, because you nearly died in childbirth with her. Nothing would every change that. He'd hate her til the day she died.

At least when your daughter died, it was bringing your beautiful granddaughter into the world.

A granddaughter Coryo named Celeste Snow, since your daughter was unwed at the time of her unexpected death.

Your husband was a better grandfather than he was a father. You thought that he might've felt guilty for being so distant and busy during Cersei’s childhood, that he decided to right his wrongs while you raised Celeste.

Little did you know, Coriolanus loved his granddaughter because she killed her mother in the birthing bed.

President Snow was a horrible, heartless man with a soul darker than a black hole. But at least he loved you and loved his granddaughter.

Too bad he hated his only child her entire life.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1, @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coryo snow x reader #coryo x reader #coryo snow fanfiction #thg fanfiction

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littlebigmouse · 10 months

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List of Small Things™ I enjoy about Fullmetal Alchemist in no particular order

Everyone in FMAB/manga is just Some Guy™ and very human and I love that so here goes:

Falman getting stuck with a serial-killing suit of armor in his appartment for days and his reaction to it. It may have been weeks. He's been on sick leave the entire time. He's a guy in his early thirties with a flock of early-greying hair because being in a dead-end-role in the military is stressfull, ok. He gets stuck at home with a funny little serial killer (and eventually some foreign body guards, and a foreign prince?? lighting signal fires in his backyard?? like man what a week)

The whole military ambush against the Devil's Nest was yes, kind of kickstarted by the gang kidnapping Al for Greed, but it was mostly kickstarted because Ed was down south to do his yearly official report and Bradley and Armstrong just happened to be present when he was informed Al had gone missing. Greed's entire operation was done in by a teen doing his paperwork

on that note, Greed really decided to spend his immortality wisely by pursuing absolutely none of his supposed ambitions and just decided to settle down with a bunch of buddies. An offshot of the buddies he was initially made to guard, too. I don't think Greed is aware of this either

everyone on that radio building. The radio host 100% down to get some coup-shenanigans into his station to drive engagement. The guys sympathising with Mrs Bradley and taking care of her. Breda taking control of the narrative with a perpetual frown by the skin of his teeth.

I know the story of how the Bradleys met is technically not canon(?) but Mrs Bradley slapping her future husband upon their first meeting because he got his flirting tips from his siblings will never not be funny. Idiots. All of them.

EVERYTHING about Darius and Heinkel. They lost their jobs and became wanted criminals upon helping out some scrawny 15 year old. They have families they miss dearly. They haven't looked back since. "You guys don't HAVE to help me save the world" - "It's not like we have anything better to do"

i was going to say the Ice Cream Truck, because it's iconic, but actually, when told to disguise a vehicle, 15-year-old pinacle of edgelord fashion Edward Elric turned it into a colourful nightmare of spikes that barely resembled a car but might be closely related to the worlds deadliest parade float. None of this was necessary. Ed is just like that.

Hawkeye growing her hair out after meeting Winry, and Winry getting piercings after seeing Hawkeye's

Denny Brosh bursting into tears when he sees Maria Ross is still alive. Dude managed to not quit his job despite working in the same city (department?) where his best friend's killer was his supervisor. They were also very real for showing us that this is a guy who oversleeps and is older brother to at least three younger siblings. There was no need to give us more on Denny Brosh but every little detail hit so hard when they reunited.

okay so remember that time Ed and Ling ate Ed's shoe. Remember that Ed spend some time on a "deserted island" as a kid. Gluttony's stomach had nothing on him. Izumi raised some anime-ass boy-scouts. 100% Farm boy behaviour. These kids are so 15 it makes me want to bite things

immortal, soul-spliced dwarf in a flask got rid of his Sloth and still managed to procrastinate on his world domination plan until the last minute. Most Human disaster.

the entire half-episode they spend on Dr. Knox and his regrets and family. FMA is so good about humanising everyone.

everyone bullied Yoki because he was a small town fraud exploiting workers for his own benefit. Simply a jerk. He also hit Pride with a car in an epic rescue, and cried and screamed the whole way through

that one shot of a kid curiously poking a soldier they found bound on the ground with a stick

(I know it's technically not canon, but-) "I'm trying to save your life, asshole!"

Edward Elric

#fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma #fmab meta #of course there are more #'it's not like they have a tank or something- fuck'

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thelov3lybookworm · 9 months

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I Didn't Ask For This (part six)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

•○🌑○•

Y/n walked around her room, getting dressed as she thought about the previous night.

She had found her husband kissing someone else, then gone to a very noisy place and talked to a male, then bought back home by her husband, nearly died, yelled at her husband and then agreed to giving him a chance.

That was not at all what she had expected when she woke up the previous morning, but that now felt centuries ago.

There was a knock on her door, and when she opened it, she found Nesta bouncing on her heels and looking nervous. It gave Y/n a little fright, because Nesta was not one to be nervous.

Hell, she would probably look the Mother in the eye and judge her for making the world.

"Nesta, is everything alright?" Y/n spoke slowly.

Nesta nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking. "So, you know how we train everyday, like, with Cassian, Emerie, Gwyn, and all those priestesses?"

"Yes?" She drew out the word.

"So I would love... if you could join us."

Y/n blinked. "You want me to join you." Nesta nodded. "I don't know Nesta... I don't think that's a good idea."

"Then stop thinking."

"What?"

"You said you think it's a bad idea, so stop thinking." Y/n laughed, shaking her head.

"Is... is Azriel going to be there?" She questioned, because despite her having agreed to giving him a chance, she wanted to keep interactions with him minimal.

"Yes, but I can kick him out if you want."

"And how are you going to kick him out?"

"I'll probably order Cassian to throw him out. Or I'll kick him between his legs, so hard that he wouldn't be able to leave his bed for days. Then we can train in peace."

"Even though that would be a good way to get rid of him, I don't think I want anyone to get hurt. I'll come, but I want you to know that I haven't ever done anything like that in my whole life, so it will take time."

"That won't be problem. So you're coming?"

"Now?" Nesta nodded. Y/n sighed. "I guess i don't have anything else to do. I'll come."

Nesta squealed before becoming serious again. "Do you have anything other than dresses and gowns?" Y/n shook her head. "Hmm. I think you can wear mine. They would surely fit you."

Before Nesta could say or do anything else though, a bundle smacked her straight in the face. She grunted, catching the bundle before it could fall to the ground.

It was training clothes. Nesta scowled at the ceiling. "You couldn't have been a little gentle?"

In response, a wind that sounded like a laugh swept through the hallway.

Nesta handed the shirt and pants to Y/n, who closed the door and changed into them. They felt weird. She had only ever worn dresses and gowns, having no need of wearing pants and shirts.

When she stepped out, Nesta began tugging Y/n towards the training area, linking their arms.

Maybe Azriel wouldn't be there. Maybe he would have some other work to do.

Her prayers went unanswered. He was present.

As soon as she entered, their eyes met.

As the corners of his lips lifted in a small smile, she quickly looked away, towards the opposite end of the ring where Cassian was having a conversation with Gwyn and Emerie.

As Nesta led her towards them, Y/n looked at the other females present. By the looks of it, the training was hard.

Y/n wondered if she'd be dead by the end of the training session.

•○🌑○•

Y/n was dead. She was sure of it as she lay on the ground and stared at the sky.

Nesta's head appeared in Y/n's vision, grinning.

"Did you have fun?"

"Do I look like I had fun? I'm never doing this again."

"Oh shut up. It wasn't that bad. Just a few squats and lunges and planks."

"Not that bad? I feel like I'm dying, Nesta."

"What's the fun in it of you don't feel like that?"

"I hate you." Y/n muttered as she sat up, groaning at the pain in her body. Just then, a hand appeared in front of her and she glanced up.

Azriel smiled at her. "I could help..."

Without breaking eye contact, she stood up on her own and turned back to Nesta, who winked at her, grinning.

Nesta nodded towards the exit and started waking towards it. As Y/n started to follow her, Azriel caught her wrist, but let go when she looked at him. He swallowed.

"I thought you said you'd give me a chance."

"And?"

"You aren't– never mind." A pause. Then. "Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight? Just us."

She wanted to ask why, even though she knew the reason. Finally she sighed. "Fine."

He smiled. "Thank you. I'll be waiting."

•○🌑○•

Part 7

Taglist: @bubybubsters @maxxieluvs @bubbbllee @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @waytoomanyteenagefeels @tell-me-a-poem @the-lake-is-calling @spaxxxi @japanese-wonderland-blog @valeridarkness @moonlwghts @deadratio @esposadomd @harrystylesfan2686 @missusbarnes-rogers @whatthefuckshappeningrn @hyacinthoideshispanica @historygeekqueen @lizziesfirstwife @nastynesta @aroseinvelaris @nightless @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kodokunarisu-blog @selillusion @eos-princess @moonfawnx @a-court-of-milkandhoney @emilyo-218 @wannabewolf @ailyr92 @chronically-online-cheese @myheartfollower @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @marina468 @menaosama @starryhiraeth @hereticdance @mali22 @valencia-rou @azrielsstarlight @marvelouslovely-barnes @luvmoo @starlight-hope @a-frog-with-a-laptop @fall-myriad @alt-ghost @elleofdragons @ruleroftides

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sourbvgs · 1 year

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rdr2 boys reacting to you getting mauled by an animal

characters (not in order) arthur, john, sean, javier, hosea, dutch, kieran, charles

tags: gore/blood, different animals attacking reader, hurt/comfort, past abigail/john, crying, angst, near death experiences, broken bones

✧─── ★: *.✦ .* :★ ───✧

arthur | snake bite

he wasn’t actually in camp when you got bit on watch

a snake had snuck up on you and bit your leg, and whilst the poison was drained quickly by hosea’s quick thinking, you were still in rough shape

arthur comes back, money in his bag, and he puts it into the cache before looking to hosea who’s calling for him.

“it’s y/n… she’s not doing too well. snake got her.” he’ll explain, and arthur is immediately by your side.

he sits beside you, massaging your leg, taking your temperature, getting you food- whatever you want he’ll get you

will 100% not leave camp until youre better.

as soon as you’re up and on your feet he’ll let you lend his book to learn about snakes and such so the same thing doesn’t happen twice.

he will quietly admit how worried he was and how he was sorry he wasn’t there to immediately aid you. you smile and assure him it’s okay, give him a kiss and get back to helping pearson.

will 100 percent get rid of any snakes near camp.

sean | wolf attack

the two of you are out camping after you begged him to take you up near ambarino to get some plants for your work

sean begrudgingly agrees, but is now regretting it.

it will soon by nighttime and the two of you are having to camp in the wilderness

he’s very uncharacteristically worried, keeping the fire low to prevent any animals seeing it.

you start assuring him that everything’s gonna be fine when a howl interrupts you.

sean’s tense, rifle ready as he listens.

surely enough, a wolf pack comes barrelling into your makeshift camp, and sean immediately shoots.

you scramble to grab your pistol from your bag, a stray wolf jumping you

it left you with a large bite upon your jugular and scratches along your body

sean notices your pained shouts and immediately shoots the oversized dog, luckily the rest don’t like their odds and retreat.

he’s immediately by your side, defensives still raises in case they come back.

“it’s okay, darlin’. i got you. fuck..-“

is panicking so hard

quickly composes himself and rips up his shirt, tying your wounds as he cradles you close.

“i’m so sorry, baby. i’m so sorry.” he’ll whisper, leaning his head to yours as you whimper in pain

with your meek instructions, he’ll make you something to ease the pain.

panics when you pass out, but let’s you sleep and keeps a close eye on your breathing

as soon as you’re back in camp, he gets strauss and susan to look at you, explaining what happened. doesn’t care if people give him slack for ‘not protecting you’, will fight them even.

holds you close out of fear of you getting attacked again. doesn’t let you leave camp without a rifle or a strong revolver anymore

john | gator attack

you had spotted little jack near the swamp water, and your heart lurches as a pair of slit eyes stare back at him

you immediately snatch him up, throwing him from the bank as the gator lunges

jack, as he would, starts to scream, and everyone comes running

there’s a thrash and blood in the water, yet luckily you had your knife on you and killed the gator

abigail holds her son close as the men jump in to help, specifically arthur, john and charles

when john realises it’s you his blood runs cold and he’s on the brink of tears.

you push them away, rising up and getting out of the water, clothes doused in swamp muck and blood

you’ve got a large bite shredding through your side as you stumble up onto the bank

hosea immediately gets you to a tent and the camp attends your wounds

abigail thanks you countless times for your selflessness and quick thinking, and jack gifts you a pinecone he found earlier on as a get well soon gift

john is the last one to visit your tent, a guilty, kicked puppy look in his brown eyes

you beckon him over softly, and he immediately sits beside you, holding your hand

tells you all sorts of shit like how “it should of been me” and how he’s sorry

you shut him down and kiss his knuckles, saying how you’d do it again in a heartbeat

gives you a kiss and, much like arthur, will not leave your side until you’re better, will bring you plenty of stuff; whatever you ask for he brings you

javier | cougar attack

he hears it before he sees it, and just as he turns your horse bucks you and your arms being mauled

he immediately jumps off of his own horse, shooting the cougar and pulling its carcass from you.

you’re crying, because let’s be honest anyone probably would, and he immediately crouches down, hugging you tightly

wraps his poncho around the bite on your wounded arm, kissing it to try and ease you

you got off lucky, and he knows it, stays more alert when you’re both out and about

when you get to camp, he won’t let anyone else aid you. he’s good with his hands, he knows how to stitch

bandages your wound too, he’d do anything for you.

you smile and kiss his cheek, explaining how you’re a little shaken but grateful that he insisted to come along with you.

on the plus side the pelt was amazing quality and he gets it made into a nice bedroll for your saddle <3

charles | gila monster bite

the two of you were taking a week to travel and gather information and supplies for the gang

you were stood gathering certain plants sprouting from the humid desert floor when charles hears your yell of pain

is immediately there, watching you shoot the lizard

“did it bite you?” he’ll ask, grasping your hand. “yes… fuck- i didn’t see it- i must of spooked it, i’m sorry.” you’re panicking, which is never good.

your hand is swelling and charles leaps into action, keeping you calm as he leads you back to the makeshift camp he was setting up, not caring how the tent was slumped and not put up properly, he’d deal with that later

you start to cry due to the burn and how sick you feel, and charles nods sympathetically, draining your hand carefully

gives you some medication and a self made medicinal mix to help you feel better

your fever doesn’t go down, and you’re tired, but you’re not vomiting, not trembling in anyway, and your hand is becoming calmer

let’s you rest, keeps an eye out for any other threats. keeps insisting mentally that you’ll be fine but hes very anxious

insists that you both go back to camp so that herr strauss could look at it and give you proper medicine, but he lets you rest first before riding out.

sorry dutch, but your health comes first to charles

kieran | coyote attack

he wasn’t actually there when it happened, no one was

you had stumbled into camp all bloody and bit and the poor boy doesn’t even know you’re back until abigail starts shouting for help

does not leave your side, is muttering under his breath that he can’t lose another love, how he refuses to let anything happen to you- it takes dutch and hosea giving him a talk to calm him down

doesn’t let you out of his sight, watches everyone closely as they tend to you

gently strokes your cheek as you whimper in pain, assuring you how you’re going to be okay and that you’re in good hands

as soon as you’re all patched up, he hugs you and insists that he’s coming with you next time you’re out

even if you resist his words, he’ll come with you anyway

definitely holds a grudge against coyotes after that absolute heart attack he had seeing you covered in blood

he’s not great with aim, so he won’t hunt them, but he definitely steers clear.

if you’re both riding together, this boys a merchant with horses and keeps them both calm until you’re both safe

hosea | bharati grizzly bear attack

both you and hosea know you’re an amazing hunter, so he brings you on a trip with arthur to hunt a big bear he had saw

you were excited, you loved hunting, especially with hosea

arthur seems pretty stoked too, happily following behind you both as you trot together

you help out, readying your rifle nearby when the battered bear charges suddenly

you pushed hosea out of the way, the bear’s teeth snags your arm, claws digging into your torso

as it goes for your throat, both hosea and arthur shoot it, causing it to retreat

hosea is swearing loudly, apologising to you profusely as he sits beside you, helping you up

hastily grabs some rags from arthur’s satchel, wrapping your deep wounds

he doesn’t take you back to camp, he takes you to an actual doctor asap as arthur insists on staying and hunting the behemoth of a bear

you meekly wish him luck, leaving with your anxious lover

he won’t stop apologising, explaining how he just froze due to fear, and that you should of just let him get jumped

“i’d never let you get attacked, love. we’re a team, remember?” you mutter, slouched into his back as your horse follows behind

he has the money, the bonds, he pays this doctor top dollar to get you into peak physical form

you both go back to camp later in the day, and arthur had come back already, no scratches, much to your relief

you tell everyone what had happened, finding some humour in the new story you could tell, much to hosea’s bruised ego

dutch | horse kick

you had offered to help brush the count, and foolishly, dutch agreed

just as you were about to brush the muck from the elegant horse’s feet, he kicked your arm sharply, breaking it

you yell, obviously, and dutch immediately swoops to your aid

“ah, see darlin’ i said to be careful.” he scolds, not realising your arm is literally broken

as the day goes on, you can’t use your arm at all, and dutch starts to feel bad, but doesn’t assume it’s broken

you go the whole damn day without telling anyone, working through the pain until you literally can’t move your hand and shamefully go to hosea

dutch feels terrible when hosea says you’ve most likely broken your arm, a large bruise where the count had kicked you evident on your skin

you’re out of action until you’re better, dutch will see to that, on the bright side, he sits beside you and reads to you so you don’t feel bad

susan makes you a sling, and you feel even worse, but dutch kisses you and all the shame melts away

makes sure you’re always careful around the count from now on, neither of you need any broken limbs

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #sean macguire #sean macguire x reader #john marston #john marston x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #charles smith #charles smith x reader #kieran duffy #kieran duffy x reader #hosea matthews #hosea matthews x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #rdr2 x reader #// 🪷 sourbvgs #// 🪷 rdr2

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luvhughes43 · 4 months

Text

stress relief | luca fantilli

luvhughes43 masterlist🌷

request: I have a request for Luca! Readers really stressed out about friends and about life and everything going on, and Lucas always there to be her rock and just comfort his girl.

word count: 0.8k

This past week has been hard. With winter break now over and the new semester beginning you were absolutely exhausted. You had spent way too much time lounging around during the break that now that you needed to get back in routine you were struggling. On top of the late nights plus trying to organize yourself for the new semester, your friends have been fighting with each other and are now demanding you “pick a side”.

It was ridiculous honestly. They were fighting about something that took place over new years eve, and their weeks of fighting have pooled over into your life. Ergo, your friends weren’t hanging out with you until you decided on who was in the right.

And to further bring stress to your life, the schools bookstore had completely fucked you over so you were now out $40 dollars and missing a book you needed to have read for next week.

When you pulled up to Lucas' off-campus house, you nearly cried in relief. His schedule had been crazy busy recently and you had missed your boyfriend in the meantime.

You walked into the unlocked house, and tramped your way upstairs before finding yourself in Lucas' room. He was on his phone and when the door swung open his attention was immediately yours.

He frowned at the sight of you. “What's wrong?” he asked softly, ridding you of your bag and guiding you over to his bed.

You lay in bed and toss his comforter over you. “Everything”

You felt the bed dip, and then Luca was speaking again. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

It was childish, but you huffed anyway. “My friends are fighting, and they won't hang out until I decide who’s in the right. I'm tired all the time. And the bookstore messed up my order and are taking too long to refund me”

When Luca doesn’t immediately respond you contine, “and I need to have that one specific book they don't have in stock read by next week. Like what the fuck? The prof is strict on what version you need to read too so it's not like I can get it off amazon because it has to be the bookstore version!” you groan, hiding your face in Lucas’ bedding.

He places a hand on your blanket covered back, rubbing soothingly as he thinks of something to say. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You perk up at his words, “what?” “Let's go. You and me, improvised date,”

“Luca…”

“No, this will help alleviate your stress! Let’s go,” Luca smiled, pulling you out of his bed and then pocketing his wallet and keys.

At first, Luca takes you out for dinner. Which is much needed considering how impossibly bad the meal hall food is.

After dinner, you do a little retail shopping, and then a little walk around campus. The fresh air is starting to work its wonders when Luca starts talking.

“I can go to the bookstore with you tomorrow to help you sort out the refund thing,” he says, but it comes out more of a question.

“Thank you,” you respond, squeezing his hand as you continue walking.

“And about your friends, I can also help you figure out a plan. It's not fair that they’re making you choose sides” he continues, reciprocating your hand squeeze.

You hum in response as Luca leads you back to his car. “Can I stay the night at yours?” you ask.

Luca enthusiastically says that you can stay over, and the two of you find your way back to his place.

When you walk into his bedroom there is a bouquet of assorted flowers waiting for you. “Luca…” “I had them delivered when you went to the bathroom earlier,” he confesses and shrugs his shoulders like it was nothing.

His gesture makes you grin ear to ear, and when he hands you the bouquet you feel like melting. How was it that Luca understood you so perfectly? It wasn’t necessarily about the gifts, or dinner either. You tended to overreact in situations therefore him taking the time to hang out with you and distract you from your stresses meant the world. Also, him wanting to help you navigate your stressors? He was so sweet.

“Thank you,” you whisper, setting the bouquet down onto his desk so you could properly kiss him.

“You don't have to thank me,” Luca says between kisses.

You don’t protest, knowing that whatever you say Luca would rebuttal. Instead, you let him guide you into his bed so that the two of you could cuddle. It was things like this that made all your worries melt away.

#luca fantilli x reader #luca fantilli blurb #luca fantilli imagine #umich blurbs #umich imagine

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junosmindpalace · 1 year

Note

Im in love with your senku x reader writings

They are absolutely adorable🥺

Ive been sick for a whole week now and i still feel terrible

It made me wonder how Senku would act with reader being sick and bedridden?

And Senku is just near her side, watching over her?🥺

Maybe y/n collapses during all the hard work in the stone world, and turns out having a strong fever?

Watching her fall asleep, keeping her tucked in, handing her water etc

I think they would be the absolute cutest 🥺🥺

thank you so much for your request and patience! i hope you were able to recover quickly (me and my horrid timing…)!

--! warnings: sickness, anxiety(?)

--> wc: 1k

The shift from living in an advanced civilization to the stone age was massive and required a lot of adjusting.

You were fortunate enough to exist in a time where everything you could ever want and need was easily accessible, from all the knowledge in the world at your fingertips to all sorts of items at your disposal. All your basic necessities could be easily met with a short walk to the supermarket.

So when all of that turned upside down, it was a challenge to keep up.

The petrification took a large toll on you when you awoke from your lengthy slumber. You were powerless to save the people you loved and who brought you comfort. Most of your time was spent attempting to accommodate your new living circumstances, physically and mentally.

Anxiety and panic was a constant in the back of your mind with so much unknown about the potential attack on mankind, and you were unable to soothe yourself with the hobbies you once enjoyed. Your physical health also suffered. Your diet had changed drastically, you were forced to take on a lot of labor in order to stay alive.

But throughout it all, Senku made adjusting easier by helping you learn everything you needed to know to help you survive in your new environment. The two of you worked together to hunt, build shelter and tools and fashion clothing. Senku’s determination and upbeatness despite such a traumatic life altering event helped keep you sane. You didn’t need to strain yourself as much when Taiju and Yuzuriha later joined the group either, especially with Taiju’s endless stamina.

When you and Senku split from your friends in order to establish alliances with other potential survivors, you came along a small village that also helped in terms of labor. You befriended and recruited many strong and resourceful people to help the both of you with your mission. Still, you were doing a lot. Your body didn’t have the time to gradually adjust to your new lifestyle.

For a while, you were able to push through. For the sake of your survival, work took priority. But eventually, sometime after Ruri was cured, you couldn’t keep hitting ignore on your exhaustion, and eventually you felt the consequences of this action catch up to you.

It seemed that there was always something to do in Ishigami Village, which was unsurprising considering your circumstances. It was a particularly harsh sunny day, the sun beating down at the villagers who tried, futilely, to rid themselves of the discomfort the sun’s glare brought them.

“Particularly hot out today, huh, Senku?” Gen panted out from beside his scientist friend, the two both sharing uncomfortable looks on their faces.

“It hasn’t been this hot in a while! We should make sure the children and elderly are alright.” Kohaku commented upon overhearing, putting a hand over her eyes to shield the sun’s rays and survey the villagers. Senku mimicked her not far away.

“We won’t get much work done under these conditions. We should probably-” Senku had started, but a thud interrupted his train of thought. Everyone turned toward the sound to find you had collapsed and lied unconscious on the ground.

Immediately your friends were at your side, the strongest villagers, Kohaku and Magma, carrying you into one of the huts in the village. After Senku assessed you, he realized to his horror that you had come down with a strong fever. In the modern world, a cold was nothing to stress over, especially at your age. But with the change in…everything, it was a lot more concerning, especially since Ruri had almost died of pneumonia.

Luckily, the Kingdom of Science’s sulfa drug was successful, but the downside was that it needed time to create again. In the meantime, your friends did everything they could to accommodate your sickness, Senku being at the forefront of it all.

Kohaku delivered spring water like she did in order to help with Ruri’s sickness, and Chrome, along with Suika and other villagers, would collect various supplies Senku advised him of to help with your recovery- food, materials for medical tools and the like. Senku stayed by your side throughout it all, making sure to assess you regularly and work to get the panacea done as soon as possible.

It was uncomfortable enough being sick in the modern world, but with the amount of pain you were in from your fever along with not being able to enjoy your old comforts, the fever took a higher toll on you than expected.

Senku stayed by your side to soothe you the best ways he knew how. He used his knowledge of science to create whatever forms of entertainment he could, and having another person from your time was also a comfort. He did his best to make you laugh and help keep you out of your panicked mindset.

At the peak of your illness, and when your anxiety was at its highest, Senku stayed by your side and watched over you until you fell asleep, sometimes lingering in the house or setting up his own sleeping bag beside. He convinced himself it was for your peace of mind, but deep down, being near you and able to quickly respond to anything alarming also helped put his heart and mind at ease.

“You’ll be okay, Y/N. You’ll recover from this, I’m ten billion percent certain of it. Get your rest.” He’d tell you with all the confidence in the world, and it was hard not to believe him when his words were so firm and full of certainty.

Senku would lean over and tuck you in, insisting that it was important that you kept yourself warm. He helped you drink water when you were too weak to do so yourself, and encouraged you to sleep a lot in between meals.

Your sickness put you out of commission for work for a while before the medicine was finished, and even after taking the medicine, your body still needed to adjust after having been used to more modern ones.

Eventually your fever symptoms slowly started to lessen, and through the hot spring water, food and other things, along with Senku’s assessments of your condition, you were back on your feet feeling reborn. Senku made sure to continue monitoring you from time to time, and told you to come to him if you were ever feeling down again, both physically and mentally (because as much as you wanted to avoid worrying him, his attentive eye and big heart always manage to see through you).

#senku ishigami x reader #senku ishigami scenario #senku ishigami fluff #senku ishigami hcs #senku ishigami headcanons #senku ishigami oneshot #senku headcanons #senku x reader #senku oneshot #senku hcs #dr stone scenarios #dr stone imagines #dr stone headcanons #dr stone oneshots

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dashielldeveron · 1 year

Text

soulmate trope | aizawa, part two.

Aizawa's route of soulmate trope.

Part two bc tumblr formatting weird (also it's formatted the texting sextions oddly. pls be patient). Part one here.

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

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

~38k overall. ~18k for part two.

The semester trudged on.

It ripped you apart, interacting with Aizawa in class as if you were the same as every other student, when you knew what he ordered at his favourite hole-in-the-wall ramen place, what he looked like shaving in the morning, what type of cat treat Konpeito preferred—the trivialities were stacking, and you savoured each one.

YOU

i had a dream about you

SHOUTA

Should you be texting during class?

YOU

Yamada-sensei has abandoned his lesson

YOU

in favour of recording noises for put your hands up radio

SHOUTA

Noises

YOU

bleep bloop

YOU

hey ya howdy doodle doo

YOU

etc.

Present Mic knew about the soulmate bond, as you’d suspected. While you’d been grading for one of Midnight’s underclassmen classes, Aizawa conveniently had been in the faculty lounge at the same time. You still had to be careful, hanging out, because it’s a tenuous boundary to walk, and you never know who’s watching.

For example, Present Mic.

He’d walked by at the same time Aizawa had mumbled a sorry about that in regards to how ill-stocked the faculty lounge was to preparing coffee, and Present Mic had only heard what he wanted to hear.

“OOOH,” he’d shouted, and he’d dropped everything in his arms and contorted his back over the arch of Aizawa’s leather office chair to hang upside down. “ARE YOU STILL GROVELLING FOR BEING A LITTLE BITCH, LOVER BOY?!”

You’d also felt like screaming.

“Don’t call me that.” Aizawa had whacked Mic’s face away, but he’d kept hanging around and slapped his hands to his cheeks.

“OH, HO? SHOULD I SAY LARGE BITCH, THEN?! YOU SHOULD TELL HER HOW HARD MIDNIGHT BLEW INTO YOU FOR BEING A HUGE DICK.” Present Mic had slithered farther into Aizawa’s seat and nearly into his lap.

Aizawa’d reached for his sleeping bag. “Midnight…was pissed at me for treating you the way I did,” he’d said, tucking his feet in and yanking the yellow fabric up around his hips, and he swatted at Mic again, who slinked his way into the sleeping bag, too. “What she’d heard from you—”

“SHE MADE HIM RIDE HER THIGH,” Present Mic had said, somewhat muffled in his headfirst descent into the sleeping bag, “TO GET RID OF THAT SEX QUIRK. SHE SAID IT’D BE ESPECIALLY HUMILIATING AND PATHETIC IF HE CAME WITHOUT HER HELP.”

Aizawa had upturned his sleeping bag to dump Present Mic out of it, and, muttering under his breath, he’d zipped himself in and rolled over to the faculty couch, curling up underneath the coffee table.

Present Mic had spun Aizawa’s chair twice before sitting in it, and he’d propped his chin on both fists. “So! How are you doing? Does he know about your contraband cat yet?”

YOU

he’s trying to bribe dark shadow into bellowing the opening jingle

YOU

i think i’m gonna throw up

SHOUTA

I’ll intervene if the lights pop out again

YOU

rolling around in a sleeping bag is not the fastest method of travel

SHOUTA

Ground yourself. Head between your knees, if you have to

YOU

(◕‿◕✿)

YOU

thanks i’m cured

YOU

but yes back to dream about you

SHOUTA

It isn’t explicit, is it?

It was still all frustratingly platonic and professional from his end. You understood, but that didn’t mean you didn’t hate it. Sometimes you trained with him and Shinsou, but that was all that you could officially schedule. Everything else had to fall as a tired coincidence.

It meant being in the same area of the library doing work, at tables far from each other. Casually bringing him tea when you’re making your rounds through the faculty offices for Midnight. Joining the regular rotation of Eri’s babysitters—but only if Togata or Monoma couldn’t make it that day, and oh, Midoriya’s out, I guess I need someone else who’s not doing anything right now?

(Babysitting meant that Aizawa would be out, but Eri liked you, especially since you brought Dango over to play with Konpeito. If Aizawa had noticed the different type of cat hair on his shitty couch by now, he hasn’t said anything.)

SHOUTA

Don’t put that sort of thing in writing

YOU

of course it’s explicit. how could i tell you any details if it’d been vague and nebulous

SHOUTA

Pedant.

YOU

you love it

SHOUTA Debateable

YOU

(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

YOU

anyway so in dream we’re at some sort of outdoor awards ceremony

YOU

and the ground is covered in dead wet leaves

Just like Ito said, there’s been an increase in romantic clichés in your life—but, as you discovered (and reported back to both Midnight and Ito), you have to lean into the cliches for them to happen. A backburner signal goes off in your brain when the opportunity for a romantic cliché arrives, and you apparently have the option to ignore it. Which is nice, because the signal only bleeps (more of a gut feeling, really) at what could be a first step, without elaborating what situation might unfold.

You found you have the most energy for the first step signals surrounding coffee shops, and those have been very stare-at-each-other-from-across-the-room-in-unvarnished-lust (although, one time, you were handed an application to work there. You declined). What turned out to be a forced-to-be-roommates cliché brought about the destruction of your dorm room, and only your dorm room, by a training accident and your first step of opening your window overnight, but the whole cliché was subverted, because not only did Aizawa refuse to let you choose his flat over one of your friend’s dorms, but Cementoss and his team repaired your dorm by bedtime.

YOU

we are alone at the shittiest, kind of broken table at the back of the venue

YOU

and there’s still pressure to keep our relationship secret bc people are weird about professor/former student stuff

SHOUTA

Nice to hear you plan on graduating

YOU

sensei (derogatory)

YOU

and you let me scoot my chair as close to you as possible and h*ld your h*nd. intertwining our fingers. letting me k*ss them. you positioned yourself so that no one else would see

YOU

(notice how i censored the sexual parts. yer welcome)

YOU

you had your hair half-up half-down, some of it pulled back in a bun. v v v sexy btw, you should do this irl more often

SHOUTA

I’ll see what I can do

YOU

and you let me play with your hair a bit, with you leaning into my touch. we shared a very sugary pear that i had to fight Yamada-sensei at the buffet for. v v v v v warm and intimate

YOU

the sharing of the pear. not the fight. obviously

YOU

i swear, not knowing what kissing/physical romantic stuff feels like makes my brain come up with the most intimate shit on the planet

YOU

so yeah i dreamt some damn this bitch lonely hours about you

YOU

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ

YOU

…shouta??

YOU

you’re not in class rn, right??

SHOUTA

You tell me that you subconsciously devised an act so fondly intimatewith me adn hagve the nerve to say yo’ure fuckngi lonely

SHOUTA You’re going to rip me apart

Aizawa still hasn’t touched you in any way that matters. The soulmark flitted from behind your ear to your fingertips, your forearm, the back of your hand, and carefully back into its hidden place behind your ear. If anyone’s noticed, they haven’t said a word. You’ve been careful.

(The terribly, awfully, evilly romantic touch that made your head spin when it happened [and now when you think back on it] hadn’t even been skin to skin. It had been, in a small group of people, his hand flattening and lingering on the small of your back for just a bit too long, in congratulations for getting selected to student-teach a stealth section of a class for hero-course first-years.

Because you know it was an intentional decision to touch you like that. He could’ve just clapped you on the shoulder, like he would’ve done for any other student.

But he chose to spread the warmth.)

YOU

funny. that isn’t on the itinerary until after graduation

SHOUTA

You’re on thin fucking ice

YOU

and if i fall in??? whatcha gonna do, rescue me???

One of these days, when you shift in your sleep to his bed, you’re going to wake up with his arm around you. You can feel it.

***

The academic situation the week before graduation was a joke.

Less than a third of the seniors bothered to show up to class, and those who did sat through classes on their phones and with their friends instead of in the dumbass seating arrangement. Sero, honest to God, brought his switch to class and played Mario Kart with Todoroki and Kouda, and that was the most intellectually stimulating conversation unfolding.

You attended, because Aizawa had to. You figured you could lighten the mood, and the odds of you shifting to be next to him were significantly lower if you were in the same room.

The lax attitude permeated Sakura Grove, too. Ito was incredibly receptive to all rehabilitation efforts, accepting everything thrown at her with enthusiasm, so long as she got to have access to some way of watching hot people. She was easily coerced into tough recovery shit purely through the promise of BTS interviews and josei manga.

She was even allowed to have her home collection of josei and shoujo manga shipped to her, usually in a care package from her aunt. It wasn’t worth the effort it took you to go through them to approve their contents, but you still scrutinised and logged everything according to Grove standards.

Hell, the candy you were sneaking out of your backpack right now was from Ito. You were eating a goddamn villain’s sweets from home, and it wasn’t even the first time. Ito’s aunt apparently confused her flavour preferences with her sister’s, so you got the flavours Ito didn’t like. And everyone, including Midnight, was strangely okay with this.

(Midnight tried some, too, the first time Ito offered, after the bag had been put through the fucking rungs. Days of processing to ensure its safety, and the moment Midnight put one on her tongue, she spat it back out onto her desk, where it rolled off into the carpet and picked up fuzz. She ended up asking the on-site translator what the fuck the Dutch label said, because when you expect caramel and get salted liquorice, it’s a shock.)

Ito hadn’t wanted these little lemon-lime-flavoured bitches, even though Jungkook was beaming into a bouquet of daffodils under the logo, so here you were, a semi-hard green ball surreptitiously stowed in your cheek as you struggled to bite down (they had a bizarre inside texture. Interesting enough to keep eating them despite your caution, because something deep in your gut told you to keep eating them. Signs of addiction, anybody?). Your book splayed open on your desk (actually yours in the seating chart, since it was the closest to the door and therefore sweet, sweet freedom), but you were half-reading it, half-scrolling through your phone in your lap.

The sleeping bag slowly rose and fell from its place lying across the teacher desk, the only indication that Aizawa was awake at all being the sluggish deflation of the applesauce packet he was sucking on. The end of the sleeping bag dangled off the edge of the desk, with his boots mutedly knocking against the metal side when he exerted enough effort to take a deeper breath and thus upset his oh-so-delicate position lying on his back. Cosy little bastard. The instant you graduate, you’re climbing into that thing and sucking the soul out of his cock.

Nothing was happening online, and you were pissed at the protagonist in your book, since she was getting to go on a date with her hotboy emo assassin boyfriend, and you weren’t. And Todoroki’s sudden screech at losing again really kept you from concentrating, but, y’know, it’s not like anything’s going on… You checked the wall clock. An hour left, and then there’s only two more school days until you’re out of here.

You cracked the candy in half, caught a strange, flaky texture against the roof of your mouth, and swallowed it down before sneakily reaching for the next one. Out of here. Out of U.A. Now, that’s actually debatable for you, and it left a weird feeling in your stomach. With the work you’ve been doing for Midnight all these years and what Present Mic and Aizawa have shown you about the academic process, you were doubting yourself: you’ve always planned on being a pro-hero, but (cringe) teaching was actually really fucking appealing. Yes, parents were insane, and emails were the devil, but teaching itself was a goddamn delight. The way those first years’ faces had lit the fuck up as they connected things you’d taught them in the stealth section was the best thing you’d seen in a long, long time. And they were as excited about it as you were.

You low-key hated how much you liked it. Because if you stayed on at U.A. to teach (and Nezu has hinted that he’d be interested in hiring you), you’d never escape the professor/student status with Aizawa, even though you’d be his peer on staff. Because everyone around you would remember, and everyone who didn’t know would connect the dots.

If you taught somewhere else, you wouldn’t get to see him much at all, and you might not even get to teach hero-course-relevant material.

Your tentative plan, agonised over in detail with Midnight, was to keep sidekicking under her at Sakura Grove as a steadier job with more routine, especially since Ito would probably be approved for parole soon, and to work as a pro-hero somewhere else as well. You’d groaned and she’d laughed when you came to the conclusion that, with your skill set, you’d be most useful working as an underground hero like Aizawa.

It was both shitty and gratifying that everything in your life seemed to point towards him.

God, this class was dragging on. You willed the hands to spin around the clock faster as you sucked on a fresh piece of candy, determined to suck down to the centre to see what the odd inner texture was about instead of chomping down again like Ito into a picture of Suwabe Jun'ichi.

Maybe you should play a round of Mario Kart. Might take your mind off things. I bet I can run Todoroki into the lava first try, you thought as you swirled the increasingly porous ball around with your tongue.

Yeah, that sounded brain-numbing enough. Shutting your book, you slid it to the corner of your desk and started to get up, giving up and swallowing the damn candy.

But you’d evidently gotten past the hard-candy coating to something large and dense blooming rapidly right as it hit the back of your throat, and you were choking, loudly, drawing the attention of even a Shy-Guy focused Sero, and after coughing up an embarrassing amount of yellow-green spittle, you unceremoniously hacked up a surprisingly realistic daffodil blossom, unfolding to its true size as it lay in your thickened saliva.

“Eurgh,” you said, testing, and you cleared your throat again, prickly and grating. You had only closed your eyes for a second, but Aizawa was standing in front of you, eyes widened in horror at the flower you’d coughed up. How had he gotten out of his sleeping bag so—?

Before you could get a word out, Aizawa grabbed you by your (bare) forearm and rushed you out of the classroom, arm sliding around your waist before he even shut the door behind him. The pink ink smeared down your arm as he led you to the closest empty hallway, where he skidded to a halt and clamped his hands on your shoulders, looking directly at you with the most serious expression he’s ever shown you.

“I haven’t been kind; I haven’t been honest,” he began, all apologies and concern and a desperate sort of tenderness, “I’ve been putting it off because I’ve been selfish and have wanted so hard to do this right, because I don’t deserve anything as good for me as you, and you don’t deserve anything thoroughly fucked up like I am.” Aizawa’s obscenely large hand cupped your face, taking up your entire cheek with his fingertips grazing your earlobe and neck (oh, man, choke me about it), the pad of his thumb hovering over your lower eyelashes; he jerked you towards him, his gentle grip trapping your arm between your bodies.

What the fuck?

I mean, you’ll take this. You’ll take it.

What the fuck’s he on? Those applesauce packets have addled his brain.

He must have read your complete bewilderment as encouragement, because he kept going like he had to vomit up these words or else get shish-kebabed for Mic’s end-of-the-year barbecue. “But now that you’re fucking dying—God, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had—plans. For you. But now—Christ—you should know that I haven’t thought of you as a stu—”

“Oh, my fucking God,” you said, your jaw dropping in the smuggest fucking grin and shaking your head, “Oh, my God. Shouta.”

He was flushed and panting, but he stopped to listen. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

(Oh. You’ve never said his name aloud before.

You made a note to tease him about that later. You have something worse to make fun of.)

“You are the dumbest fuck alive,” you said with a shit-eating grin, reaching up to finger-comb his hair out of his face, “I was eating in class. I swallowed a piece of flowering candy at the wrong time. Hanahaki disease isn’t real.”

Aizawa untangled himself from you and took a step back, and then another. “Neither are soulmates,” he said carefully.

“Okay, okay, I can see the logical jump,” you conceded, holding your hands up, “You may continue with your sordid confession now.”

Aizawa blinked, weary again now that the adrenaline was draining away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, fluffing up his capture weapon to cover most of his face.

“Oh, you—you prick! You’re going to hell.” You grinned, poking your tongue into your cheek. “It’s two more days until graduation, and the minute I’m off that stage, I’m yours. C’mon. You can bend your rules with two days left.”

For some reason, he sank more into his scarf. “Let’s go back to the classroom before Todoroki lights something on fire.”

***

You’re vibrating out of your metal chair at the commencement ceremony. Glassy-eyed, you went through the motions of the walk, the pictures, the handshakes, sad goodbyes that aren’t even real, because people were going to the same places and agencies that they’ve been working at for the past few years. Just as pros.

Aizawa’s right there, and his hair’s slicked back, and he’s wearing a suit, and he’s avoiding your ravenous gaze like a good professor should, instead bowing to parents and entertaining the small but constant group that swarmed him.

Hiss, hiss. Back off. He’s yours. You've waited.

When Jirou asked about the twitch in your left eye, you decided it was time to leave. You’re driving yourself insane, watching him like this.

You sat on the front steps of U.A. with Shinsou as the sun sank past the horizon, jovially engaging with your friends who stopped to talk before going out to celebrate. He didn’t ask after whom you’re waiting for, though it was clear you were killing time.

When the night chill swept through the courtyard, Shinsou stood, his hands in his pockets. “I’m beat.” When you didn’t join him, he continued. “D’you wanna go get ice cream, or something, before turning in?”

Aizawa’s still inside. “I’m okay,” you said, stretching, bones cracking, “I think I’ll stay here a bit longer. You go ahead.”

Shinsou stared at you oddly for a second, but he nodded. “Right, then. I’ll go.” He jogged up a couple of stairs before calling back, “You shouldn’t wait out here too long.”

You waved him off.

Eventually, a night wind came that had you pulling down on your sleeves, hunched over on the stairs and rubbing your upper arms. You dug out your phone—no messages—and called him.

He answered after a few rings, his voice groggy and hoarse. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Where am—I’m in my bed. I’m sleeping,” said Aizawa, yawning distantly (he must be tilting his speaker away). He sounded a bit more awake when he asked, “Where are you?”

Fury overtook you. “Where am I? You dense mother—”

You’re straddling his hips in his bed, layers and layers of blankets between you and him.

“—fucker.” You glared down at him, hair mussed up and splayed on his pillow. You hung up your phone and tossed it off the bed; you grabbed his and flung it into the wall. “I waited for you to come out of that building,” you said, planting your hands on either side of his chest to loom over him in what was hopefully a threatening way.

Rubbing an eye with the heel of his palm, Aizawa said, “I hoped you wouldn’t. Shouldn’t you be out with your friends? You’ve graduated. You’ve completed a tough stage of your life.”

“Correct. But aren’t you omitting,” you said, bunching up the fabric of his black henley in a burst of courage (though you didn’t know whether to put your weight on him or not, so you just kind of hovered), “that I’m not your student anymore? I’ve graduated, Shouta. I’ve waited. It’s time. We can start our lives together for real. Aren’t you—aren’t you going to kiss me about it?”

Aizawa’s chest rose and fell underneath your fist, and when he didn’t respond, you released his shirt and sat back with all of your weight on his legs. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.” You crossed your arms, uncrossed them in a nervous fidget, and crossed them again so that you wouldn’t touch him in any way that grossed him out. Though every cell in your body shouted not to, you climbed off of him, kneeling at his side instead. “What’s,” you started, hesitating, “Is anything wrong that you haven’t told me? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Barely perceptible in the crack of moonlight through his partially drawn curtains, Aizawa gave you a sad smile. “There’s something fucked up about waiting until graduation to kiss you, isn’t there?”

“Goddammit,” you said, crumpling and burying your face in your hands, “I get it. I get it.” You ran your tongue over your lower lip. “I hate you.”

Aizawa reached out to brush hair out of your face, not that you really needed it. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” you said back, shaking at his cool touch sliding behind your ear to fix the soulmark.

***

The next ten months of your life were a blur.

In an attempt to not feel so terribly lonely, you buried yourself in work, Sakura Grove during the day and moonlighting as an underground hero after dark. You had to be a pro to be a professor at U.A., so you pushed yourself not just to be good but good enough. Hopefully, you’d be firmly established as a pro before you went back.

Nezu had discussed that with you in an unofficial job talk that last week of school. You’d also taken the opportunity to confide in your soulmate situation, and God bless Nezu for being so discreet and understanding. He promised to keep your student ID active so that you could still scan into doors on campus and that you could leave without hassle when you shifted to Aizawa (it did tons for your self-esteem when Nezu suggested going ahead and upgrading your student pass to a faculty one; you’d walked out of that meeting positively glowing).

You haven’t been shifting to Aizawa as often. You figured it was because you were suppressing your desire to be next to him as much as you could—still fucking difficult, since it crossed your mind every day. You kept it as low-stress as you could—you most often shifted to him in your sleep, so you could sneak out before the bastard woke up.

(You didn’t want to think about how he’s keeping to one side of the bed, using bedding and blankets instead of his sleeping bag now. You continued to leave nothing but your indent on the pillow.)

(You could count the number of times he shifted to you [that you were aware of] on one hand, but once, as you blinked away sleep, he was scratching Dango’s neck in what appeared to be a familiar way.)

The ache made its home in your chest again.

***

Then came a mission.

To quell the PLF action outside of Mustafu, a team was going undercover to PLF bases throughout Japan to extinguish them. And hey, who do we know who has amazing track records, already work well together, and aren’t too well known by the public and thus are able to go undercover?

Class A reunited in the back of a rented-out, hole-in-the-wall ramen place (Class B was the other team and met in a different location). The cook waved at you, having recognised you from the times you and Aizawa have picked up takeaway, and you shuffled into the back room, dimly lit, private, and pungently smelling of broth.

Aizawa’s surrounded by the half of the class already present—Mina’s showing him a video of a dance she taught primary school kids; Kirishima, hair ungelled and loose around his shoulders, was asking for advice about perpetually split fingernails; Asui’s handing him a juice box with the straw already popped in.

When Aizawa wrapped his lips around the straw, he locked eyes with you, dance routine video playing on without an audience. He’s looking painfully handsome in a black turtleneck and long coat with his hair pulled back, and he only got prettier when he gave you some semblance of a smile: more around the eyes than the mouth.

The moment was broken when Kaminari slammed into Aizawa in a hug, knocking him off balance, so you were grinning when you neared him.

Recovering, Aizawa grasped Kaminari’s shoulders. “Put someone in your own agency as your emergency contact.”

“But Daaaaad,” said Kaminari, his whine eliciting a few giggles from Yaoyorozu and Jirou, “You’re gonna take care of it better than anyone else.”

“I am no longer your professor and am therefore exempt from responsibility. The last two times I was called during class,” said Aizawa, setting his juice box on a booth’s table, “It’s nearly impossible to find a substitute at the last second.”

“But you did.” Kaminari shoots him a double thumbs-up. “You’re the best, but sure, I’ll add someone else to the list.”

“Ooh, during class—there is a new Class A that you’re latched to,” Mina said, turning off her phone and stowing it, “They’re not as cool as we are, right?”

“They’re certainly less trouble, at the very least,” said Aizawa, and he glanced over the former students who had arrived. “Why don’t you work on pushing the tables together?”

They scattered. You stayed.

The ache lessened now that you were near him.

You bit your lip. “Is it okay to hug—”

“C’mere,” he said, and you did, wrapping your arms around his neck and inhaling deeply the scents of pine and sandalwood. You had to step out of his embrace hastily, since anyone could notice something off, but the soulmate warmth had flooded your system like a sugar rush, especially with the observation that he’d pulled you close by your waist, as opposed to when he’d gawkily hugged Kaminari around his shoulders.

You stepped out of his personal space, clasping your hands behind your back. “I know I’ve said it a lot, but you smell incredible.”

“Thank you,” said Aizawa, picking up his juice box, “The shampoo you’re using is particularly nice, too.”

“Thanks,” you said while he slurped, “Is Eri doing okay?”

“She’s doing well. She misses you,” he said, and after a beat, he smirked. “She wants you to bring Dango the next time you shift.”

You sucked in through your teeth. “Ah, ha, you know who Dango is?”

Aizawa was really and truly smiling now, eyes half-lidded and soft. “Eri told me about how you would bring Dango over to play with her and Konpeito. I’ve known from the start.”

“I can’t believe I now have beef with a primary schooler,” you said, “She promised not to tell.”

“She also didn’t seem to understand why you couldn’t bring Dango during a shift,” said Aizawa, leaning back on the table and tilting his head, “You’ve been leaving before she even gets up. Does your work at Sakura Grove start earlier than regular businesses? It’s a long commute, sure, but you leave earlier than it takes to be on time. I’d told you to stick around, if you wanted. You seem to have forgotten that since you graduated.”

“Oh.” You stared blankly, and you blinked. To fill time, you joined him in leaning against the booth table, the hands between the two of you almost touching. “I, uh. Huh.”

Aizawa leant closer to your ear, a strand of his loose hair tickling your skin. He spoke quietly, in that infuriatingly rumbly voice of his. “If you’re distracting yourself by overworking, I advise you to ease up.” The tips of his fingers grazed yours, exploding in pink. “You haven’t been answering my calls; you’ve been sneaking out in the morning. Midnight called me to ask if you were all right, and it was shameful that I couldn’t answer her.” Your jaw quivered at the brush of his hot breath against your skin, but if he noticed (and he probably did, that perceptive bastard), he didn’t say anything. “If you work yourself to the bone, you won’t be any good at your job, and you won’t grow. You don’t have to push yourself. You don’t have to prove yourself. Stop rushing. Take your time.” He leant back, sitting upright. “Linger when you shift to me.”

You tapped your pink fingers on the table; it was a relief seeing the mark, instead of just knowing it’s behind your ear. He’d been rather close rather quickly, saying all of these caring, helpful things with an undertone of innuendo, and it was a lot for you after the long dry spell, so there wasn’t anything left in your brain besides looking up at him full of yearning and saying, point-blank, “I’m in love with you.”

Aizawa kept soft eyes on you while covering your hand with his, clumsily lacing fingers together. “I know.”

Your friends erupted in a wild cheer when the last stragglers, Bakugou and Midoriya, finally pushed their way through the double curtains, with Midoriya waving brightly as he joined them and Bakugou ducking his head and averting his gaze.

You jumped out of your skin at the noise and placed a hand over your heart when you realised what it was—and Aizawa was fucking laughing at you. His fingers curled more tightly into yours while he covered his mouth with his other hand, unable to conceal a terrible sort of wheezing laugh and a wide grin.

He’s beautiful.

Tempted to ask if he were having an asthma attack, you instead pouted, pursing your lips. “Hey, you know that when you’re doing hero work at night, you have to be alert for any sort of unusual sound—”

“Correct,” said Aizawa, trying to reel himself in, “but you may want to work on having a work mode and relaxation mode, with clear boundaries. If you’re on guard all of the time, it drains your energy. I’d like you to have the space to live.”

Jirou called the two of you over now that everyone was present. Aizawa stopped you from joining your friends at the end of the table, subtly pointing at the chair beside him.

Knowing that everyone would want to catch up, Aizawa announced he’d be waiting until after their food arrived for the debriefing. While you talked with Shinsou, seated at your other side, Aizawa examined the menu but ordered the same thing he always did.

Aizawa ate his ramen faster than normal and pulled a manilla file from his long coat, quieting most of the table with the gesture—it reminded you how careful you have to be in your actions, your inflections, because all of these people instinctively paid attention to him.

“You all have been split into sub-teams based on the size and structure of each Paranormal Liberation Front base and your individual abilities to infiltrate them. The majority of you are going to Tokyo, but to those going to less urban locations, your job is just as important in quashing extremists.” He passed the file to Midoriya, on his right. “Take the envelope with your name and a moment to read it before getting in your group. No, Iida,” Aizawa said before Iida could gesture more, “Midoriya is only involved in the planning stage. As he and Bakugou are the most well-known by the public, they will be staying here to maintain a sense of normalcy.”

Shinsou handed the file to you, and you took the last envelope while Midoriya took over explaining to the table. With Aizawa watching you in his periphery, you ripped open your envelope.

Hero commission stationery. Cute. Secrecy of mission, dedication of self…You’re going to Tokyo. Great, you’ll have to burn your city-grimed clothes at the end of each day.

“Who assigned these teams?” you whispered to Aizawa.

He finished his bite of noodle, swallowed thickly, and tucked loose hair behind his ear. “I did.”

You narrowed your eyes. “My team is you.”

“It’s only logical,” he said with a sly smile as he reached for his drink. “Keep reading.”

You scanned the rest, the soulmate trope signal growing in your gut. “Since when does the PLF have connection with the yakuza?”

“Since the families in opposition to Chisaki bolstered their defences against heroes. Keep going.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Their headquarters is in a club?”

“Beneath it,” said Aizawa, and under the table, his knee nudged yours. “So, tell me: what would be the purpose in sending two underground heroes there?”

You took a deep breath, bouncing your leg. “Heroes specialising in stealth would be trained already in how to infiltrate a place unnoticed. They would be accustomed to reading people, to recognising the details that betray intention. And they’d be less likely to be recognised by their faces. Well, goddamn,” you said, reading over your letter again, “Logical. But again: why am I going to a club? I’ve never been to one and have never wanted to.”

“Because you need to grow.” Aizawa tucked that loose strand into his ponytail. “You’re not at your best in large, social situations. Your crowd work needs to improve.”

“So, you’re sending me to a fucking club—”

“Not sending you,” he said, “I’m coming with you.”

“Pedant,” you grumbled, secretly pleased that you’re rubbing off on him. “Seriously, I don’t know if I can do this.”

Aizawa shook his head. “I do.”

***

You were teeming with envy for your classmates sent to rural PLF bases when five o’clock brought vast hordes of businessmen and freshly released workers onto the train to uptown Tokyo.

You have a firm stance on personal space; you’re not used to touching people or being touched, so you grew more and more visibly flustered as more people packed on. A faint call of the soulmate signal echoed in your gut, and you panicked—is it a romantic cliché to get fucking groped?

But before it can escalate to a true panic attack, Aizawa set his duffel on the floor and reached for your waist—you jumped at his touch but relaxed when you saw it was him. He guided you in front of him, unbuttoned his long coat, and wrapped it around both of you, pulling you back against him with his arms hugging your waist, large hands covering more of your body than you’d imagined. Back against his broad, warm chest. Feeling tucked in under the coat.

Tilting your head back to look at his tired eyes, you mouthed Thank you.

Aizawa nodded, and when you settled into his arms, he rested his chin on the top of your head.

***

The A/C in your hotel room conked out an hour before infiltrating Club Magenta.

“There’s a pin that the yakuza has issued to PLF members for club access,” called Aizawa from the bathroom, the door cracked to let out steam, “It’s a visible marker for who’s safe to confide in, since PLF members haven’t been sworn into the yakuza.”

You pulled the fan chain through its cycle of settings again, and no, that was the highest it could go. “Wait, a pin? Would either of mine look like it from a distance?”

“Unless you’re coincidentally wearing the eye of Horus—” The bathroom door slammed open, steam and light outpouring. “Why are you wearing pins on a mission?”

“It’s to contribute to my I-am-open-and-not-hiding-anything vibes by providing more information about myself than necessary,” you said, kneeling on the bed, crawling off of it, and being slapped with 80 psychic damage at the sight of Aizawa’s clubbing disguise.

How annoying. He’s got on this unbearably irritating all-black ensemble (though that form-fitting button-up peeking out from underneath that stupid leather jacket was more of an ashy-grey-black than straight black), but a flash of his socks revealed neon kittens—if you could get past those funky, leather boots with flowers painted on. He’d shaved away all but a shadow of stubble, and his hair was up in that half-up, half-down bun style that was horribly, horribly attractive.

You had to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Aizawa strode over to you, squinting down at the pins near your left shoulder (the tips of his boots parted your legs where he stood). The expected wave of disappointment washed over his face as he read Good Pussy Gang and experiencing sensory overload—both in pastel, the latter with cartoon frogs.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” said Aizawa, unconsciously edging further between your legs.

“Well, the other options for pins up for borrowing from the girls could imply some things that could turn out badly for me in this situation. There was my sun sign is cocaine, but then what if I were offered cocaine? I don’t wanna do that,” you said, grinning, “And the one that said don’t bully me; I’ll come was a little too close to home, and you’ve taught us to never be that vulnerable about our true selves when undercover. Fuck Nasty wears its joke out quickly. It was tough choosing, though. Runner-up was crab rangoon.”

Narrowing his eyes, Aizawa plucked at the charm on your necklace. “And this, I presume, is the entire clitoral gland?”

“It’s a wishbone,” you said.

He set the charm back against the hollow of your throat. “Figures. Just—just what the hell are you wearing?”

“You’ve seen me in a dress before.” It’s really not that bad: also all-black, long enough to feel safe—but since you’ve been informed you have nice boobs, it’s also got a square-cut neckline to show them the fuck off.

“No, I meant—” Aizawa hooked a finger underneath the leather strap on your shoulder and yanked, pulling you upright and rather close; you laid your hands on his chest to balance yourself (oh, hohohohoho, his chest! You’re successfully touching it).

“That,” you said, biting your lip as his hooked finger ran down the strap from your shoulder to the side of your boob, “is called a harness, Shouta. You seem like the type to know a lot about—”

“Not the point,” he said under his breath, his hands resting at your waist (!!!), just below the leather going across there, thumbs rubbing at your sides. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and then cleared his throat. “Enlighten me. Why do you have a harness?”

(“Because it pushes your boobs up and together, and men are weak,” Mina had said.)

“It’s from Momo’s failed Attack on Titan cosplay,” you said, truthfully, “She got the placement of the horizontal strap wrong. See, it’s supposed to go here.” You drew a line across the tops of your boobs, watching his pupils follow. “But she made it here, under the boobs, like an underbust corset. She was going to throw it out, but I thought it looked good on me.”

He rubbed his thumb over the leather one last time before dropping his hands. “It does,” he said in a sort of croak.

You soared on the high of that croak the entire uber ride to Magenta.

Tinged pale pinks and greens under spotlights, the line outside stretched around the block and into the night. Bit embarrassing how Aizawa’d had to explain ratio to you, and a couple of eavesdropping woo girls thought it was simply adorable that it was your first time in a club and agreed to latch onto you two to be let in. The bouncer talked to Aizawa, not you, but let you pass, stating that first-timers at Magenta need to stay on the first floor unless otherwise invited.

“Can everyone just look and me and tell I’m a virgin?!” you hissed into Aizawa’s ear as you were led down a pitch-black corridor. “How come no one’s talking to any of the other women like that?!”

Harsh drops in the music coming from somewhere shook the walls more and more as you walked farther into the dark, and a heavy, steel door (with a glow-stick around the handle) opened onto a pulsating sardine can of a dance floor coated in way too many people, all writhing and twisting to the beat. The floor sectioned into a panelled grid, with each panel somehow lit from underneath, flashing pinks, greens, and black. The ceiling was similarly gridded but only with white light, from the view below, and you could see the silhouetted footsteps of dancers on the floor above.

Aizawa guided you to an edge booth before going to the bar; you, keeping an eye out for the Magenta pins, camped out and shazam-ed the incomprehensible electro-pop song currently vibrating the chairs away from a nearby table (the table was bolted down, but the chairs weren’t).

When Aizawa slid into the booth with drinks, you dragged him close to you, pressing your face into his shoulder and inhaling deeply. “Thank God,” you said, refreshed by the pine and what was apparently new leather, “Too many people are vaping for me to breathe. And it’s so fucking humid in here.” You popped up, accepting the glass of fancy-as-fuck pink lemonade as he skidded the glass across the table to you (you’d decided ahead of time that you weren’t drinking on the mission tonight). “I’m glad Mina told me not to rely on makeup too much due to the sweat, but fuck, this is kind of awful.”

“Yet the humidity’s from crowds of young people dying to experience this flavour of awfulness,” said Aizawa, the glass of some sort of whisky-based drink eclipsed by his hand (big hand…big hand could hold you…), “Seen anyone interesting so far?”

You cupped your hands around your glass, savouring the cool condensation. “Perhaps. Mostly I’ve been acclimatising myself to my surroundings—”

“Spoken like a true hero and a huge nerd.”

“—and I haven’t seen an eye of Horus pin, or any pin, for that matter, but I’ve seen a couple of people, I think, not dressed for a club leaving through a different door. Just there,” you said, raising your glass in that direction and to your lips. “And I happen to like being a nerd, thank you.”

Aizawa’s knee touched yours under the table when he turned in to speak more quietly. “The bartender was wearing an oversized jacket with pin-holes in the lapel.”

“So, not her jacket. Bartender doesn’t qualify?”

“Suppose she doesn’t have to. Only has to deal with the alcohol and kitchen, not crime. Though the price of their scotch comes close,” said Aizawa, taking a sip—and the chokehold his Adam’s apple has on you when it bobs, yikes. Oof. He leant in closer, his breath grazing your neck, to say, “And trust me, if anyone knows you like being a nerd, it’s your sensei.”

Your life flashed before your eyes (lots of reading, lots of yearning, not enough telling people to shut up). Your face felt tight from suppressing a reaction. “Incidentally, didn’t you say you could handle alcohol well?”

“Correct,” he said, smugly taking another swallow, and the soulmate signal erupted in your gut.

Not…the greatest sign.

“If you’re going to try to harass me about how well I can hold my liquor, which is perfectly well, then allow me to make another extrapolation about you.”

You nervously took another swig of your lemonade. “Go ahead.”

No mercy in his expression. “You have a book in your purse, don’t you?”

“Well, fuck,” you said, shifting in your seat, “Is my not-like-other-girls complex showing?”

“I don’t know what that means, but since it flusters you, yes.”

You tried to down the rest of your lemonade, but the glass was really big. Whatever. You pushed on the table to stand. “I’m gonna go dance. I have no idea how, but it’ll be a learning experience, right, fuck-o?”

Holding his glass in from of his smile, Aizawa rolled his eyes.

“I’ll see if there’s anyone out there wearing the pin who doesn’t fit a stereotype and get to talking. See if there’s any more exits,” you said, successfully finishing your lemonade this time and slithering out of the booth, “You stay here, being effortlessly, excruciatingly handsome, and watch the flow of traffic, yeah? See if anyone approaches. Is the soulmark in place?” You spun around (with a bit of traction from the beer-soaked floor) and gestured to your ear.

When he didn’t touch you, you faced him again. Eyebrows raised, Aizawa was frozen, his glass an inch from his lips.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“Is that what you’re focusing on? C’mon, Sho, you’re the most beautiful creature alive, and you know it. I wanted to drop dead when you walked out in your slutty little outfit earlier. You’re playing to my exact weaknesses, you cunning little fuckslut. I already want to quit the mission and make out with you, but I know you won’t allow that, so let’s get the ball rolling so we can finish, yeah?”

He set his glass down with a loud clink. “Right.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “Let me fix your soulmark.”

After that, you fucked off onto the dance floor, a bit discombobulated from the nearly-strobe-but-not-quite lights from the floor panels, but you guess the advantage would be if anyone saw you embarrassing yourself, they wouldn’t be able to get a good look at you.

Dancing was out of your comfort zone, but making people laugh? All too easy. All you had to do was compliment a woman on her heart-shaped nipple stickers, and she invited you over to her friends’ dance group. You elected to lean into the everyone-can-tell-this-is-my-first-time-in-a-club bit, and by being honest and awkward within the boundaries of your mission persona, the more experienced club-goers delighted in teaching you some basic club dance moves.

Yes, the music throbbed through your skull as you pulled questionable moves in a dense, sweaty pack of bodies—but hey, your mission persona’s new bestie said that everyone besides professional dancers fake knowing how to dance, so you do you, girl. Besides, Haru was fishing out her phone to show you pictures of her cat, and Kisa was shouting over the music the premise of her PhD dissertation that she was defending next month (she invited you to the defence, and though you won’t have any good questions about the usage of prosthetic limbs as moral denotation in English Victorian literature, you genuinely planned on attending).

(No pins, no outsiders, no one not young and exceedingly drunk—)

“I think you’ve got it!” Haru yelled, her features illuminated in pink, “I think that’s all the basic solo moves! Do you know how to grind? Should we move on to grinding?”

Outward shouts of agreement from the group. Internal screaming on your part. How do you say my ass belongs to my stupid soulmate undercover?

All too quickly, Haru introduced you to Kazu, who waved politely and offered an honestly endearing smile, but you were pressed up against him way too quickly, with too many people touching you, with multiple pairs of hands on your hips trying to guide their movement, and hey, is that an eye—

When Aizawa yanked you out of the cluster, you could breathe again.

“Oof, ouch, I’m sorry; we’re sorry, sir. We didn’t know we were swarming her,” Kisa was saying while you were reorienting yourself, “She should be just fine, though! Nothing bad has happened to her since she’s been with us, and until now, it’s just been us girls—”

More of that language. Assuring Aizawa, like you weren’t even there. And, like, these were women! Some of whom were in academia and medicine, and shit, fighting the good feminist fight! Why were they talking about you like you were—

“They think I’m your dom,” Aizawa said as he steered you towards a roomier part of the floor, “They want to ensure you’re not in trouble with me.”

You turned to face him. “Shut up. No, they don’t.”

Aizawa didn’t have to say anything—just let his gaze sink to your harness.

“Oof,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back. Biting the inside of your cheek, you bounced on the balls of your feet, and you met his eyes. “Am I in trouble with you?”

“No,” he said evenly, “but you’re not going to learn to grind on anyone but me.” He closed in on you, body heat mingling, and looked down at you, eyes half-lidded. “Do you seriously not know? Do those books you read teach you nothing?”

Aizawa took mercy on your headshake no, spun you around, and grasped your hips, his thumbs digging into the swell of your ass.

(He’s touching you, and it’s lower on your body; it’s intimate. You need to go lie down to think about this. You can already feel you’ll be processing this touch for a long time—)

Aizawa jerked your ass back against his pelvis, and your brain emptied.

“Now,” he said, his voice low in your ear (though you’re already sweating, a different heat started to build in you), “The first step is to relax. The movement will be smoother if you’re not wracked with tension.”

“How can I relax when you’re—” Realisation seized you like a sailor grasping for a fish flopping around on deck. “You’re drunk, Shouta,” you said, sighing, chest heavy with compassion and disappointment that he wasn’t flirting with you entirely deliberately, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands. “Let’s go back to the booth and wait it out. I’m going to take care of you.”

He snatched your hands away before your fingertips could even turn pink. “No, little girl,” Aizawa hissed, forcing you around and pinning your hips against his, his splayed hand pressing down hard on your lower stomach, “I’m going to take care of you.”

You would like pink lilies at your funeral.

“A step-by-step lesson, since you’ve managed to make it this far being so woefully ignorant. Some people say grinding can be for fun and nothing else, but for you, since you’re with me, grinding is always sensual.” Aizawa took your twitching hands in both of his, and he dragged your hands up your thighs, plucking at the hem of your dress before trailing them up to your waist. “Usually, your goal would be to get me hard. Luckily for you—”

Grunting, Aizawa ground his erection (?!) against you, rolling his hips from top to bottom to make you feel everything from the tip to his balls, putting so much pressure on your hip and stomach that you grew aware of your goddamn hipbones (this man is bringing up your skeleton, among other private, inner things you don’t want to think about, and it’s just a dance).

“—I’m already there. So, you don’t have to worry about any responsibility. You just sit pretty and let your sensei teach you, hm? I know you’re a quick learner. You’ll catch on.”

Aizawa tapped the back of your knees, making you bend them when you flinched, but he motioned for them to stay bent, doing the same himself. “Move your hips to the beat, matching my speed. Some songs call for moving your hips in a figure-eight, but most work better if you’re moving them in a circular motion—”

“Circular how?” you asked, swaying along to the beat just barely, not even realising you were doing it, “Like, are we talking circle on the y-axis or the x-axis?”

Aizawa scoffed into your hair. “Fucking—it’s not that simple; it’s not two-dimensional. It’s,” he said, raising a hand in front of you to make a flattening gesture, “There’s another plane intersecting. Not just the y- and x-axes. God, what is it called when there’s a third—forget it.” He huffed and nuzzled against your neck. “Think of the movement as Saturn’s rings.”

You looked back at him, grinning. “Are you Saturn?”

“Cheeky,” he said, and he directed you to face the front again by sliding his thumb along your jaw, “or should I say brat. Jesus, am I Saturn—no, sweetheart, but I’m losing my patience for you. Pay attention.”

Sweetheart.

You have the mental image of popping champagne while Midnight and Ito throw confetti.

You’re almost too overwhelmed by the new and very good and oh? to keep absorbing more information and observing more sensations, but the only way out was through.

So, Aizawa taught you the right way to roll your hips, to adjust to different songs, what to do with your hands, with every point of contact along the way feeling like a lit sparkler, and you’re a light that won’t go out.

Both present and far away, you couldn’t keep it together (maybe you were experiencing sensory overload). Being so close to Aizawa, with him wanting to be near and nearer to you, unfurled a heady thrill up your spine as he slid his hands over your hips and ass and waist, tugging back on the harness when your back strayed too far from his chest. The way your bodies moved together, slowly, sultrily—his hips twitched involuntarily against you.

“Let me look at you.”

Grabbing your chin again, he turned you towards him, and your hands trembled under his as he encouraged you to run them down his chest (half of his features highlighted in a flash of pearl green, he smirked at you when you lost your nerve and broke eye contact, gathering the fabric of his shirt in a frustrated fist before noticing you were grazing his abs and let go). But he kept you close.

Head swimming, you hooked a finger into his belt loop and yanked to close the scant space between you. You found yourself saying nonsense, like your sentences were rice-paper butterflies that couldn’t float off your tongue and into the dark fast enough. “I want to take a nap inside your ribcage. I want and love every part of you, even the ones I don’t know yet, even if you want no part of me. I’m always yours, in every iteration of me, in every timeline, forever. I don’t care if everyone else forgets me or hates me so long as you know me. I’m going to make you pancakes in the morning. I’m going to give you the best blowjob of your life. I’m going to eat you alive. I’m also possibly experiencing sensory overload and may pass out, so we may need to rain-cheque the mission and leave soon.”

Nodding, Aizawa leant in to kiss you.

The music and lights and people faded away, and you were weightless, in freefall, with a spark of yet more heat kindling low in your stomach.

(From there, the details escape you—and that kills you when you look back at this moment, because it’s your first kiss. But you don’t remember if his lips were chapped or how it tasted or sounds, or anything [possibly because of how bombarded your senses had already been], but you remember how he made you feel: like you’ve been exploring an endless garden, searching, and then seeing him when you turn a corner, his back to you as he waters greenery, and how blinding his smile is when he turns to you.)

***

The mission. Right, the mission. Really hard to care about it once you’d kissed Aizawa.

It went fine. You returned to the booth and read aloud from your book to him until he decided he was sober enough to continue, and you’d scouted some pin-wearers and sneaked downstairs. The PLF stragglers split you and Aizawa up during the fight, so it thrilled you to bits when the soulmate bond made Aizawa shift to you when he couldn’t get loose from multiple yakuza holding him down. Good shit.

Nothing happened when you made it back to the hotel, because Aizawa passed the fuck out within a minute of unlocking the door, which was fair.

You’d been summoned to aid Hagakure and Kirishima at a base just outside of Tokyo, so you’d taken care of that and were now driving back home.

(He’d told you he’d rented the car because he didn’t want to risk your feeling overwhelmed on the train again. Magnanimous fucker.)

Unfortunately, most of the car ride had to be spent reporting to a hero commission employee and then listening to the next step of the plan on speakerphone. You found yourself nodding off, despite the hard copy of the mission report in front of you waiting to be filled out.

The hero commission had to hang up abruptly (something something Best Jeanist?), and the second Aizawa hung up the phone, it rang again. Groaning, he answered it, turning on speaker again and replacing it in his cupholder.

“Eraserhead speaking.”

Crying out, you hunched over in the passenger seat, the soulmate signal cutting so suddenly and severely that it was as if your stomach had been sliced open with a blunt knife.

A hand flying to your shoulder, Aizawa slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road.

“…been trying to reach you all morning,” the voice on the phone was saying (another hero commission employee, from the legal side, it sounded like), “but I haven’t been able to get through.”

Shaking your head, you held up a hand to Aizawa to let him know you were okay, that it would pass. Still, his jaw tensed, and he slid his hand from your shoulder up to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“—because it looks you left some of your financial agreement blank; did you mean to indicate that yes, your wife should be paying child support for Eri?”

Aizawa dropped his hand from your cheek and stared blankly at the phone in the cupholder. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Child support for—”

“No, hold on,” said Aizawa, gesturing and shaking his head even though the other person couldn’t see, “Actually, before we—listen, I don’t have exclusive custody of Eri; she’s under the care of U.A. as an institution. She happens to be near me the most because she bonded with me first. You must have inaccurate—inaccurate information.” He shot a questioning look to you, and you shrugged, excitement bubbling in your gut.

“Allow me a moment?” Mouse clicking was heard. “Okay, well, I’ve got you and your wife’s bank account information pulled up here—”

“When was a quirk incident form for me last processed by your system?”

Aizawa shot you a warning glare while you proceeded to silently lose your shit, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. You unbuckled and reached over the console to pepper pink kisses all over a sulking Aizawa’s face while the speaker rattled off an apology for the delay in processing hard copies of paperwork when they’re used to digital, ultimately confirming that due to a mistake in filing and your little jokes on paper, you two have been married for eight months now.

Running your fingers through his hair (sandalwood sandalwood sandalwood), you pressed your forehead to his, and while the speaker was still apologising for the error, you whispered, “I am going to give you the most egregious road head.”

Aizawa laughed through his nose, making a horrible sort of snrking noise, and he slipped his hand over his own mouth to cover the wheeze in his laugh. You kissed the tip of his nose and leant back to your seat after giving his hair a final, gentle tug.

Steeling himself, Aizawa the pink-nosed reindeer cut the hero commission employee off. “I understand, but I’m still in the field right now. Please forgive me, but I’ll have to call you back later.”

The moment you hung up for him, Aizawa let out a loud groan, tilting his head back and sinking down in his seat, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he said over your burst of open laughter, “You got what you wanted, I suppose.”

“Ohhhhh, no,” you said once you got a breath in, “I’m married to the person I love more than anyone, boo hoo. Do you—” A harrowing thought sobered you. “Do you not want this?”

Aizawa peeked from under his hands, and he dropped them to his lap with a sigh. “Well,” he said, sitting upright again and turning the key in the transmission, “It’s certainly not how I wanted to propose.”

Your throat ran dry, and you smiled through it. “Can’t be helped, I guess. Would it make you feel better if we went to pick out rings?” you asked, not quite joking but not quite serious.

You got to see the way his cheeks and ears tinged bright red as he checked behind you to merge into incoming traffic, and he tucked his chin into his scarf, as if he didn’t want to be seen. “The ring’s already at home.”

***

You were to take over teaching Midnight’s classes. Your duties at Sakura Grove would taper off as other employees learnt how to replace the both of you.

You were also to give her eulogy.

As her former student, close friend, and only sidekick, you were the natural choice. You didn’t want to do it, but you knew if someone else did it, they’d fuck it up.

You deliberately didn’t look at anyone in the crowd (students, heroes, and civilians whose lives she’d affected) and instead focused on the clock on the far wall. If you looked Yagi or Yamada in the eyes right now, you’d crumple.

So, you started talking. You have control over the jokes, this way, over the stories, by doing it yourself. You were doing fine, speaking in a disconnected way, until you noticed, for the first time, that Nezu was sitting on a couple of bibles to see over the pew.

For some reason, that made your grief-stricken brain lose the last threads of composure at which you were grappling, and the first fat tear trickled past your waterline.

And you shifted right into Aizawa’s lap, in front of everyone.

His wheelchair was parked on the outside of the second pew (he wasn’t even supposed to be out of the hospital yet and didn’t yet have a prosthetic), so those attending could see the shift without even having to turn their heads much. Gasping, you were straddling/kneeling in Aizawa’s lap with your arms around his neck, his chin almost in your boobs, and he looked just as taken aback as you did.

You ignored it, instead standing, wiping the tear, and continuing where you’d been cut off mid-sentence as you returned to the podium.

You shifted four more times during the course of the eulogy.

So, Midnight celebrated romance even in her death: amidst condolences came the curious congratulations on finding your soulmate.

***

You woke up in his bed.

When the bed creaked and a warm, muscular arm draped over you, there was no scrambling off of each other. No panic. He grumbled something against the back of your neck and tightened his grip around your waist, curling into you.

You woke up in his bed.

“What—why are you leaving?” came Aizawa’s rasping morning voice, his hand emerging from under the covers to grasp your wrist. “S’not daylight yet.”

“I know,” you said, putting a knee back on the bed to lean over him, and you brushed hair out of his face, trails of pink following. “But I can’t go straight to Sakura Grove like this; I need stuff from my flat. One of my replacements starts training today.”

“Mm.” Aizawa blinked blearily up at you, a sleep smile growing as he held your palm to his cheek. “Take some shoes for the commute, at least.”

“I was planning on it. Is my pair of All Might socks still here?”

“Yeah. I washed them,” said Aizawa, and with a grunt, he moved to sit up.

Hands on his chest, you pushed him back down. “No, baby, stay in bed. I’ll get them. You need all the rest you can get.”

You woke up in his bed.

It’s empty, so you followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen, where a shirtless, pink-sweatpants-ed Aizawa stared into a mug with amorphous cats that Eri painted.

“You’re adorable,” you said, opening the cabinet next to him and scanning the mug selection.

The slurp he made was monstrous. “Eri misses you.”

“I miss you, too, Shouta.” You selected a #1 Dad mug from Kirishima, and Aizawa poured the steaming coffee into it for you. “We’ll see each other more when school starts again. The next time the teaching certification test is being offered is late next month, and then I can start orientation here.”

Aizawa nodded, resting his elbow next to you on the counter, grazing your fingers cupped around your mug. “I know you’re still working the fifth district at nights, but is there a chance you could take a leave of absence for this weekend?”

“Hot date?”

He hummed into his coffee. “If only. I’ve got a short mission out of town, and there’s no one I’d trust more to watch Eri.”

You smiled at him, with Konpeito rubbing against your legs. “Of course.”

You woke up in his bed.

“Thank God,” said Aizawa, rolling on top of you and burying his face in your neck.

“It’s only a few more weeks,” you said, wriggling in his hold when his breath tickled you.

“No, I mean—the ring’s finished being resized,” he said, sitting up, “and I’ve been desperate to see it on you.”

Aizawa retrieved the box from his bedside table and slid it on your finger: white gold with an emerald embedded, all strategically designed not to catch on anything—made with your hero work in mind.

You wiggled the fingers on your left hand, the emerald catching the morning light. “I’m going to throw up. It’s gorgeous.”

“Hold your nausea for when you hear Hizashi’s latest ideas for our ceremony.”

“Oh, fuck,” you said, plopping back down onto the pillow, “Does he not understand simplicity? Or not being a fucking tool?” When Aizawa shook his head, grinning down at you, you lifted your hand to run your thumb over his lower lip, and his tongue darted out to meet it. “All right, my love. Lay it on me.”

You woke up in his bed.

Dango had jumped on you and meowed loudly, because she didn’t understand that the feeding schedule was a little different now that she lived in Aizawa’s apartment.

(Dango had pre-emptively moved in before you, because the sooner Dango and Konpeito bond, the better. Eri got so upset when they play-fought.)

You woke up in his bed.

“Shouta,” you said, rolling over towards the lit lamp, “What are you doing up already?”

He crossed out something in red ink. “I’m reworking some of the written tests for my new curriculum. I meant to do it last night but went to bed early instead, and I’d rather do it now than this evening.” Aizawa slid his glasses down his nose, his good eye glinting at you playfully. “Nothing’s come up? You can still come over tonight?”

“Yeah,” you said, scooting over to feel his body heat, “I haven’t seen Shinsou in so long, either, so I’m glad he’s coming over to dinner, too. You aren’t going to keep him busy long, right?”

“We’re setting up the room at the end of the hall for a new tenant, so we should be done by the time you get here.” Aizawa rolled his shoulders back before setting his papers to the side, and he folded his glasses to set them atop them. “What, are you planning something with him to get back at me?”

“Nah,” you said, rustling the sheets as you sat up, “I just need his phone at some point. It’s really fucking weird that my best friend is my soulmate’s, like, ward-mentee, because Shinsou’s got my contact name as Mommy. With a little heart.”

Wincing, Aizawa guided you into his lap, his hands light on your waist.

“I’ve got to change it back to my name,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck to sink into a hug. You pressed your lips against his neck—not really a kiss, but more of just resting them there. “Who’s moving into the room at the end of the hall?”

Kissing the side of your head, Aizawa stroked your back through your sleepshirt, his fingertips trailing heat down your spine. “Well,” he said, his voice morning-gravelly, “Let’s say it’s another ward-mentee. U.A. wants me in charge. You’ll see.” You felt him smile against your ear, and he kissed it before biting the cartilage gently. “When are you moving in?”

“School starts next Wednesday,” you said, “so how does this weekend sound?”

You woke up in the bed you shared with Aizawa, slammed the alarm clock off, and flipped back over, spooning Aizawa with your nose smushed between his shoulder blades. He laced his fingers back through yours and kept them over his heart.

***

On a weeknight two weeks into the school year, you’re dangling your legs off the top of a water tower, forehead pressed against the railing, watching cars pass under streetlights below.

Being a teacher was tough. Being a teacher and an underground pro-hero at night was tougher. You now understood Aizawa’s need to carry a sleeping bag around. You hadn’t caved and done the same, but you kept a pillow at your cubicle in the faculty lounge because it was just too damn hard to stay awake during your off period.

(At least things with Sakura Grove were wrapping up. You’d stay in their contacts as a consultant, especially for Ito, but you didn’t have to go there anymore. Sad that that part of your life was ending, but it scooted over on the couch for new beginnings.)

You’re dancing around the point: because of your endless exhaustion and the difference in your and Aizawa’s schedules, you’re still a goddamn virgin. It’s stupid as fuck. The longer you put it off (which you’re not even doing intentionally!), the more of a stressful event it’s going to be.

“Sleeping on the job?”

You jolted awake, cold indent of the railing cutting into your forehead, and your head whipped around in search of him. “Dozing,” you said, tilting your head back far enough to watch Aizawa slide down from his crouch atop the water tower, “Too shallow to be real sleep. You don’t even get to R.E.M.”

“All of that to say that you want to go home,” said Aizawa, and he nestled up behind you, placing his legs on either side of yours and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull your back to his chest. He pressed his cold nose to your neck (you yelped) while the ends of his capture weapon trailed onto your lap.

“I guess, but I only have about half an hour more of my patrol,” you said, covering one of his hands with yours (pink didn’t blossom there, probably because he kept brushing his lips where your neck met your shoulder), “I can wait it out.”

“Mm, if you say so. Right now, I’d rather have you in bed. I miss you too much.” He inhaled deeply before placing one final kiss behind your ear and said, “I have something for you.” He took a moment to riffle through the pouches on his utility belt, and your heart dropped into your stomach when he reached around you to retrieve the knife hidden in your boot (oh, my God, the intimacy of knowing where on your body you kept your weapons). Aizawa brought his arms around your waist again, this time with a brown-sugar-coated pear in a brown paper sleeve cupped in one hand, the other cutting into the soft flesh of the pear.

He held the blade to your lips, which you closed around the slice of pear, the brown sugar grains melting on your tongue. He fed you another slice before cutting one for himself.

The pains and care he took for you compounded and curled on your chest like an overweight cat, and you cracked in half: you started fucking crying.

As soon as the first tear track shone under the streetlights, Aizawa, brow furrowed, turned your chin towards him (you automatically took the pear and knife to hold them in your lap).

“What’s—”

Taking in your weak, shaky smile, he took on one himself. “I see.” Aizawa finger-combed some of your hair out of your face and rested his curled fingers at the roots of your hair at the back of your neck. “Still,” he said, swiping away a fresh tear with his thumb, “I can’t have that—not my pretty girl crying.”

No matter how thoroughly he dried your face, it didn’t matter: it started raining on the way home. Both of you were soaked, grinning as you scanned into U.A. under the torrential rain funnelled from the awning where faculty entered, dripping onto the floor when you checked in on Eri for the night (All Might had put her to sleep earlier), and just fucking dropping your wet hero support items to the tile in the kitchen, your shit tangled up in his capture weapon and knocking against his goggles.

A low rumble of thunder shook the windowpanes as Aizawa kissed you, opening his mouth before you even kissed back, the edge of the kitchen counter smarting against the small of your back while you breathed in your soulmate in the dark.

Parting to breathe, you managed a grin as a flash of lightning illuminated his ruddy cheeks and soulmate-pink lips. “I feel like if I go to bed tonight, I’m going to die in my sleep,” you said, panting.

“Good thing sleep’s not on the agenda,” said Aizawa, and his lips seared into yours (fucking peach chapstick, you were of sound mind enough to note) as he fumbled for the zipper on the back of your wet costume.

It plopped with a squelch to the floor, and the chill of the A/C sweeping over your bare skin made you huddle into Aizawa’s chest—but you swore and flinched away, since his body temperature didn’t really help with how wet his clothes were.

Scowling, you kneed him away and rubbed your hands up and down your arms. “Take this off,” you said, plucking at his jumpsuit, “It’s fucking frigid in here.”

Lightning lit his smirk this time, and Aizawa started undressing, the sodden splat of his socks hitting the tile first.

“You gonna let me wear your clothes this time, pretty boy?” Watching him strip, you shivered for more than one reason. “Last time, you only gave me towels.”

Aizawa scoffed. “That’s because if I’d had to see you wear my clothes, you wouldn’t’ve made it farther than the bedroom.” His jumpsuit made a weird noise, and he fished his utility belt out of the belt loops to set it on the counter.

When you gestured towards his boxer-briefs, he shook his head. “Not yet. Yes, they’re cold, but I want to focus on you right now. Leave your underwear on, but go ahead and leave your wet hero costume in here. They can drain in the sink,” he said, tossing his socks in.

“Okay,” you said, doing the same, “but please at least change into dry boxers, or something—”

“I will,” he said, undoing the rest of the buttons on your pants once you’d done the first, and he fucking lifted you onto the counter, kissing you, to drag them down your legs before putting them in the sink. “You with me?”

You nodded and pulled him in for a hug—skin still slick-moist but warmer now that body heat mingled together, and his breath heated your neck while he sucked a wet mark onto it. “I’m with you, Shouta. I love you.”

Grunting against your throat, Aizawa hugged you tighter. “Oh, I love you, too, sweet girl. So much.”

He eased you down off the counter, and you flinched again at the cold. “Oof, ah, I have to get out of this wet fucking bra; it’s too fucking cold in—”

“Want me to go adjust the thermostat?”

“No, it’s fine; it’s fun. I just,” you said, kissing his shoulder on impulse, “need you.”

His eyes fell to half-lidded, and a roll of thunder nearly masked his low chuckle. “All right, then. If you’re sure.”

Aizawa led you to the bedroom, hardly space between the two of you while running his hands over your arms and waist to generate heat, his voice rasping in your ear the whole way (so much louder than the constant sound of raindrops assaulting the windows as the wind picked up). “That time you shifted into my shower—the image of you is burned into my brain,” he was saying, nudging the bedroom door shut with his foot so his hands wouldn’t have to leave you, “You were so confused but keen to do what I said. I was trying so hard to be good, noble, like you said, but the part that stings above all is that I liked the handprint on your back. I liked having my mark on you, on display, in such a large way that anybody could see. Killed me to have to cover you up. Lights on?”

“Let me open the curtains instead,” you said.

“Good. I’ll change into dry underwear so that you don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t look,” he said, releasing you from his hold.

You drew back the first set of curtains and fiddled with the pullstrings to raise the blinds. “Are you telling me you beat yourself up-slash-off about the way you thought about me?” you asked, smiling at your own dumb joke, “I get it. I do, but c’mon, baby. You’ve made a home in my heart and in my own damn blood. What’s the shifting into your bed while I’m dreaming been besides my body calling out to you?” Oh, fuck yes, the blinds went all the way up this time. You crossed to the second window. “What’s my—hey, nice ass. Very cute.”

The elastic waistband snapped in that final rush to pull them up. “I told you not to look,” said Aizawa, frowning as he joined you in tying away the opposite curtain, “Are you really gonna be a brat this early in the—” He cut himself off, slapping a palm over his eyes as he stepped back from you (successfully raising these blinds on the first try!). “No. No, I shouldn’t. Not for your first time.”

Closing the distance, you took the hand over his eyes and held it against your cheek. “You could a little.”

His thumb loosed itself from your fingers, falling to your mouth, and you kissed it, parting your lips to lick the pad just barely.

He swallowed visibly. “Get on the bed.”

You did, and you wormed your arms around your back to unhook your wet bra (fucking frigid half-dried in the A/C, plus you were betting the feeling of your nipples grazing his chest was fucking stellar), whipping it off the bed before he could even join you.

“Notice I didn’t say you could do that,” Aizawa said, laughing through his nose, one knee on the bed. “But that’s all right for now. I like how vulnerable you look, how needy, how—” Aizawa crawled over you, eclipsing you. “—how out of touch with anything but me.”

His lips were warm, soft (peachy), and more consuming than when you’d met them earlier that night, and when his tongue brushed the roof of your mouth, he secured an arm around your back to arch you closer to him, boobs pushing into his chest and held like you’re something precious.

“I’m sure you know this,” Aizawa said, thumbing into your mouth and dragging the spit down your neck (cooling in the night air), “but you have absolutely perfect breasts. Whenever I’ve felt them against me before, I’ve gone fucking crazy—and now I get to—” He kissed you again, giving a firm, final bite to your lower lip (smiling when you tried to suck his tongue back into your mouth but shaking you off anyway), before pulling back to look at you, his wet thumb trailing down between your boobs and then circling up around one of them, pausing when you tensed up before he touched your nipple.

His eyes were dark when he glanced up at you again. “Do you trust me?”

“With everything I’ve got,” you said, feeling your heartbeat pulse in your lips now that the pressure of his was gone.

With a wry grin, Aizawa tilted his head. “Yet you’re not relaxed. I’d say you’re a bundle of nerves, but…” His eyes flicked down towards your crotch, and you rolled your eyes at the dumb clitoris joke (hell, yeah! You’re rubbing off on him).

“I’m trying; I thought was I doing good so far—”

“You are. But let me give you a little task so that you’re not concentrating on feeling nervous, yes? One you can handle.” He kissed your cheek and waited for your minute nod before continuing. “I want you to keep your hands by your head,” he said, moving them on the pillow where he wanted them, “You’re not allowed to move them. I get the feeling you’d like them to be tied there, but we’ll save that for another time, yes?”

You arched up to meet his lips, and he let you, moving his against yours, letting your tongue cross into his mouth before breaking away again.

“Good. You’re so good for me, and sweet. And another thing,” said Aizawa, squeezing your wrists to draw your attention back to them, “I want these hands open. Palms up. You’re not allowed to make a fist, sweetheart.” At your baffled expression, he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Just an extra challenge, but I know you can do it.”

You huffed, pouting (and he laughed over it, that horribly endearing, wheezing laugh). “Sure. Yeah. You want me to relax, so you give me what suspiciously sounds like a test. And wow, we know that I have some sort of stupid complex about being the best and getting the approval—”

“And you can get it so easily, should you do this well enough for me.” He shuffled down your body a bit, fingers sketching around your nipples before squeezing your boobs (crazy insane maniacal ridiculous how his hands cupped them perfectly…).

“Oh, you’re evil,” you said, shaking your head.

“You have no idea,” said Aizawa before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, tongue flicking and swirling around it, languidly, heavy with saliva—careful, dark eyes scanning every reaction from you.

Jumping at the contact—but no, don’t bend your fingers even a little. Flat. Flat against the pillow, where he put them. Okay. Okay, we’ve got a handle on it. The initial shock was just—

“Fuck!”

(No, no—keep them against the pillow; sink them into the down if you have to—)

Aizawa’s teeth had ever so lightly grazed you, and his smug little laugh through his nose burned you up inside, so you refused to look at him. Though anger wasn’t the only reason for heat: it was starting to coil in your lower stomach, too, spreading as your thighs clenched—oh, yeah, you have legs, so you rubbed your thighs together in what was hopefully way he wouldn’t notice (but fuck all if he noticed, though, because at the rate your breath was hitching and how frequently you were twisting away from his mouth, any shred of your remaining pride would be crumpling into nothing before he even made you—)

You were writhing, arching your back, eyes scrunched shut, at the moment Aizawa both closed his lips around your other nipple and pinched the first one, and he kept at it, circling it with his tongue as you came back down, stilling.

“Holy shit,” he said, eyebrow raised, pulling his mouth away with a wet puck, “Are you getting off already?”

Aizawa was reaching for your face, but (there’s a split second where you wanted to bury your face in your hands, but the man liked his technicalities) you screwed your eyes closed again and hid yourself to the side in the pillow. “I’m sorry I’m such a stupid virgin who gets worked up easily. I didn’t mean to upset—”

“No, no, no—open your eyes, darling,” he said, hands cupping your face, wiping away the tiny bit of sweat that’d broken out at your hairline, “You’re fine. You’re perfect. There’s nothing to apologise for. Open your eyes. There. That’s my good girl. Thank you.”

You, biting the inside of your cheek and scowling, dug your head out of the pillow to face him, but you kept your eyes averted, still not looking at him.

(Unfortunately, you were not immune to good girl.)

“I’m not upset. How could I, when I know my pretty little wife is feeling so good?” Aizawa pecked your forehead. “You’re just more sensitive than I anticipated. And that’s good. That’s fine. That’s fun for me.”

“Oh, my God,” you said, wincing, trying to sink farther into the pillow to get away from this beautiful man, “You’ve got to shut the fuck up. You keep hitting me with these lines that knock it out of the park. It’s too much.”

Thunder shook the windows, the bedframe rattling with it.

He grinned, and you wanted to punch him. “Is that so?”

“Shut up, holy fucking shit. Just fuck me already.”

And Aizawa was frowning. “Are you—I don’t think you’re ready enough—”

“Oh, come off of it,” you said, gritting your teeth and averting your gaze again, “I’ve already come once, and you’re so overwhelming that I’m going to pass the fuck out just from you talking. I don’t care if I come again; I just wanna get this o—just penetrate me, I guess.”

Scowling. Scowling now. Grimacing, even. “You don’t really want me to do that.”

“Yes, I fucking—”

“You’re not wet enough,” he said with a growl. “Yes, you’ve orgasmed, but you’re not ready for me.”

“You can’t be that—”

“I am,” said Aizawa, a hand sliding down his stomach (holy shit, he’s got muscles) to hook into his waistband, snapping it, “above average, sweetheart.” When he said the word, his voice teemed with scathing condescension, and your stomach dropped. “When I say you’re not ready, I know you aren’t.”

Your cheeks began to feel blotchy, but you weren’t going to cry. “Would you—please—try? I think I might be overwhelmed already, and I want you to feel good.”

Aizawa sighed, and he crawled back over you, reaching towards your hands flat on the pillows to lace his fingers between yours. “It’s not about me right now. We’re focusing on you, baby.”

You lifted your cheek, leaning into the kisses he was pressing onto it. “I know,” you said quietly, “but I think I would feel good knowing you feel good, so, ish, in a fucked-up way—would you try? Please?”

His lips met yours again, just briefly, and he said, “Okay. If you hurt, we’re stopping.”

“Well, hey, that’s pretty much guaranteeing that we’re—”

He cut you off with an exasperated look while he tossed his underwear off to the side, not bothering to unhitch his prosthetic leg.

Aizawa was pushing into you, beginning to stretch you open on his cock, and he’s only gone just barely what could be considered shallow, not much more than a squeeze around the swollen tip of his cock, and you’re clenching down around him, clamping down tight, and you didn’t even notice your eyes stinging with tears for the strain in your cunt.

But Aizawa did. He pulled out before they overflowed down your face, and he’s kissing them away in apology. “We can stop here. I won’t mind. You’ve already done so, so well for me. Thank you for trusting me.”

After a bit, you managed to get a hold of yourself, and you moved to—well. That first, you supposed. “Shouta,” you said, wiggling your fingers interlocked with his on the pillow, “may I move my hands? I’d like to touch you. Just a bit.”

“Go ahead.” He released them.

You placed your palms on his tits/pecs and instantly felt better (not cured, or anything. But definitely better). “Okay,” you said, scratching him gently, “I’ve had a moment. I’m not as overwhelmed anymore. Fuck you for being right about—about wetness.”

“Thank you,” he said, similarly scratching your head while sliding a calloused hand to your waist.

“Listen, Sho. I was scared that if I didn’t make you try to get in me then, you’d try to make me come again beforehand, and I’m scared that I’m gonna pass the fuck out if I have three orgasms as good as the first one you gave me.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to come if I eat you out, even though I’d like you to,” said Aizawa, smiling at the way your eyes fluttered when he scratched a certain spot, “I can simply go down on you to stretch you out. Everything’s fine. All that’s happened is that you’ve come earlier than expected—which, I assure you, was fucking hot—and now you need different preparation to take me. You’re fine. We can stop here, or—”

“Would you be cool with going down on me?” You bit the inside of your cheek and averted your gaze again. “Or, or, actually, you don’t have to do that. You can just—”

“You’ve got to stop overthinking, baby,” said Aizawa, grabbing your chin to kiss you again, which he did deeply and so hard that he was gasping when he broke away, “because I have been breaking myself over the thought of tasting you. I’ve been—please don’t think that I don’t want any part of you, because I want even the things you don’t like about yourself. Whatever you want, I also want, enthusiastically and desperately. This soulmate shit has reduced me to freshly popped edamame whenever I—”

Aizawa cut himself off at your laughter, sitting back on your hips and crossing his arms.

“Oh, babe, Shouta, that’s,” you said, grasping at his hands to drag him over you again, “I appreciate the effort. I do, really. But that’s a bad metaphor. Doesn’t fit the tone of the situation. Plus, I would argue that edamame bursts instead of pops. It’s a bean, not a pea.”

His ears were tinged red. “Whatever it takes for you to laugh again, you fucking pedant,” he grumbled against your neck, and his fingers trailed between your boobs and down your stomach, took a moment to curl into your pubic hair (tugging), and sliding between your folds, spreading what wetness was already there.

You eased your laughter to a smile, and you plopped your hands, palms up, on either side of your head again. “So, are you gonna make me wet or not, Shouta?”

“And you say I’m evil,” said Aizawa, grinning and shaking his head, and after another kiss, he slithered down your body, kissing and licking as he went, eyes dark and fixed on yours (his good one, anyway), even as he spread you and pressed his lips to your clit for the first time.

He’s right. He’s right. He’s always right: the task of keeping your hands flat and in one place distracted you from getting worried about how you looked or tasted or whatever, and you were laughing at yourself for how hard you were finding it to keep from forming a fist—but that’s the impulse, apparently, when the goddamn love of your life is sticking his tongue as far as he can go into your cunt and moaning like a whore about it in that stupid fucking rumbling way.

“Sweet girl,” he was saying as he licked the inside of your thigh, his scruff scrabbling pleasantly against your skin, “Are you with me? You look a little unfocused.”

You shook yourself and glanced down at him. “I’m good—”

“You are.”

“I mean, I’m with you,” you said, heat flooding your cheeks the fastest it ever has. “You’re very good. As well.”

“Is it all right for me to add a finger into this? All right, sweetness, relax,” said Aizawa, and he dragged his middle finger over your clit, circling it before drawing it back up, this time knuckle-side down, and it’s that finger that first slid into you with a soft wet noise—barely there, but still audible—and dragged and pressed inside you, aimlessly feeling you out, totally unrushed.

Your own fingers strained to lie flat.

After more licking and prodding, he added his index, and the suction on your clit lent a distraction from the stretch when he parted his fingers inside you, though there’s a soft wince from you, regardless. Under your assurances, Aizawa continued, working more space between his fingers though you clenched around him, and the third made your stomach burn, your hips chasing his fingers as your insides wound tight. He’s kissing and sucking your clit, keeping watch over your expression and the growing squelching and spasming of your cunt, and you, a bit dizzy, whimpered without meaning to when he started to pump his fingers in and out of you. You felt his smug grin against you as it reformed into a pucker to give your clit a particularly harsh suck, and you’re falling apart just a little, but it’s cool, it’s fine, and you found yourself coming, again, but this time it’s gentle, a smaller crest, under the careful watch and tongue of your husband—and when he slowly withdrew his fingers, your cunt complained the whole way, leaking and squelching around them.

The smug-as-shit bastard waved his fingers towards you, strands of arousal connecting them and seeping down into his palm. “If you want a taste, this is all you’re getting,” he said, touching your lips for barely a second, “because the rest is mine.”

Your head emptied at the way his tongue slathered the rest of it up, sliding between his fingers.

“I believe you’re wet enough for me to fit,” said Aizawa, still licking at his fingers.

“Hold up! I didn’t get to see you earlier,” you said, sitting up, “Do whatever. I need to see your cock.”

And you immediately saw red, because this motherfucker? Stupid. Stupid as hell. Stupid and hell and handsome and above average, my ass. You were insane for not wanting to prep much earlier. You’d gotten some of what he looked like when Serendipity’s quirk was affecting him, but you’re going to die. You’re going to die and then be able to talk to Midnight about her friend’s cock (too soon? You shook it off), because he’s infuriatingly pretty, and it just isn’t fair.

Jolting, your hand flew to his wrist when he thumbed over your clit again, circling it.

“You told me to do whatever,” said Aizawa, nudging your thighs a little wider apart.

You shot him a look before returning to trying to fucking grasp (figuratively) his cock. You’re shaking your head at it, sucking in through your teeth. It’s fucking stupid—tilting a bit to the right, a little veiny (artery-y?), flushed a dark pink at the tip, and absolutely fucking weeping for you, cum dripping for the first time onto your thigh and the mattress.

Your hand darted out, hesitating, to touch the trail of dark hair on his abs leading to his cock, and once your ring finger grazed half of that maddening v, you retreated, scooting back an inch or two on the bed as you jerked at his brushing against your clit.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow when you looked up at him, wet fingers stilling.

“I’m going to kill you,” you said on impulse, wide-eyed.

Aizawa opened his mouth and closed it again. He blinked and after a beat, said, “All right. Not the most encouraging thing to hear in reaction to my dick.”

“Yikes. I mean,” you said, cringing and biting your lip, “Maybe you’d ought to prep me more?”

At the very least, you’d expected a burst of laughter from him, but to make matters worse, he took you seriously.

“Noted,” he was saying, kneeling again to put his mouth on your clit, “When I was feeling around inside you, I was thinking that I’d have to work to open you up to take me. You have such a tiny little cunt—”

“Oh, my God, never mind,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “You’re a menace. I’m leaving. I’m leaving forever.”

Laughing to himself, Aizawa peppered kisses over the backs of your hands. “I’m only joking, love. I said it to fluster you.” His hand cupped you, fingers rubbing in slick while you kept spasming every few seconds. “I know you’re ready to take me,” he said, and (your life began and ended in a second), he started slid his cock up and down your folds (swollen from coming twice already), covering it with your slick and dripping pre-cum onto you.

When a choked noise escaped your throat the first time his cockhead caught on your clit, you clapped a hand over your mouth, horrified, but a gently smiling Aizawa released his grip on one of your shaking thighs to uncover your mouth, with his smile twisting into something darker when he put your hands flat on the pillow again.

“Oh, you are the worst.”

“It’s just for a minute more. Then you can touch me. I promise,” he said, watching the way your cunt was trembling erratically when he wasn’t even inside, “You’re probably gonna come the moment I get seated inside you, yeah? Look at you twitch.”

Adjusting your legs around his waist, Aizawa took your hands in his as he pushed in, breaking you open with slow, gentle thrusts. “Easy,” he said, when you grappled with his hands, almost thrashing, to squeeze them harder, “Easy, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

Lightheaded.

And very, very warm.

You might be holding back tears. You’re not sure.

But you’re certain you’re taking deep breaths, as instructed, and you shook your hands out of his to wrap your arms around his chest, to feel him close and warm and over all of you, grabbing at him blindly to hold more (a small voice in the back of your head hoped you were scratching him up).

Aizawa struggled to breathe as well, but he gritted his teeth, his face and heaving chest fucking flushed. His hands shook as they travelled down to your waist, unable to still your shuddering hips underneath him. “And here I thought you were soft all over,” he grunted out, “Turns out that you’re softest inside. Fuck.” He screwed his eyes shut. “My lovely little wife. My soulmate.” Aizawa carefully exhaled before opening his eyes again. “Is it okay if I move a bit more?”

At your nod, he rolled his hips shallowly, keeping a careful watch on your face for any minor reactions that he couldn’t hear, and each time he thrust into you, the further away from any reality but Aizawa you got. You blanked, feeling nothing but how you strained around him, spasming and pulsing, and how your muscles were seizing, how—how it wasn’t feeling like you were full, or that you and he were overlapping, but that hey, this is how it’s supposed to be, soulmates—you and him, together. And separating yourselves just didn’t make sense, in the way that you can’t separate the hydrogen from oxygen and still have water; to have you or Aizawa, you needed the both of you. Package deal. Bonded pair.

And wow, the tears you’d been holding back now flooded down your face, pausing at the resistance from each time his hips met yours before continuing down your cheeks and neck, and you’re out of it, out of anything besides Shouta when you cup his reddening face in your hands (pink handprints blinking before the next thrust) and manage to whine, “Sensei—”

Aizawa broke, expression flashing pure vulnerability, and he kissed you before you could say anything more, and he smushed his hips against yours, hitting you more deeply as he finally circled your clit again. The orgasm was torn out of both of you, but it’s torn in the way that the wind tears a kite away from its flyer.

When you opened your eyes, the bedroom was filled with floating, pink dust, glittering when lightning struck. You had to encourage Aizawa from his spot, buried in your neck, to see it, and the two of you watched it shimmer and dissipate as the storm picked up again, rain audibly hitting the glass.

“Do you think that happens every time?” you asked as Aizawa helped you out of the bed.

Aizawa turned the knob to the bathroom and flicked on the light. “I’m sure we’ll find out.”

He had to help you walk, since your legs were shaking so badly. Luckily, you had a good laugh about it. Aizawa set you up (or rather, down) in the shower, telling you to warm up while he changed the sheets and that he’d join you soon.

By the time the two of you were out of the shower, the soulmate dust had vanished. Aizawa got into bed first (and he had to take a moment to calm down when he saw you wearing his pyjamas), and you climbed in after him. After some brief experimentation, you found that, if you shaped your hands just right and pulled them away all at once, you could leave a soulmark in the shape of a heart. So, you did, just over his real heart, and you leant back, pleased with yourself.

Aizawa glanced down at his chest and grinned. “Adorable. But I’m afraid it won’t stay for long, my love.” He held his hand mere inches from your head, wiggling his fingers in a taunt. “I doubt I can go for long without touching you.”

You caved without hesitation, leaning into his touch as a chuckling Aizawa ran his hand through your hair. “That’s fine. That just means I can constantly make it anew.”

“You’re ridiculous,” said Aizawa, and he wrapped his arms around you to pull you close, snuggling into you. “Go to sleep. You can mark me again in the morning.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair

#bnha #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa/reader #aizawa imagine #aizawa fic #mha #aizawa headcanons #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa fanfic #aizawa shouta x reader #soulmates #soulmate #soulmate au #dash it all

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deansapplepie · 7 months

Text

Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 3

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Chapter 3: I’m sorry and Thank you

Summary: It’s time to bury their dead, take decisions and say goodbyes. The tension is thin in the camp and not everyone can control their emotions or how they deal with it. Hard decisions are made and a shot is take in hopes that everyone have a future. Y/N and Daryl have their first little fight in this one.

Warnings: swearing, death, violence, little angsty, fluffy, little mention of suicide that if you blink you’re gonna lose it, maybe some characters are ooc, idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s sister)

Word count: 4,179

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love.

Everybody started to work early, cleaning, reorganizing and getting rid of all the bodies. You needed to burry Amy, but Andrea would not let no one take care of her. You could imagine the pain she was feeling because you felt that too when you lost Rick. Amy was so young, she was sweet and gentle, she didn’t deserve it. No one deserved it.

You tried helping with whatever you could, unfortunately you were not strong enough to help carrying the body of the dead. So you were trying to make sure everyone had water to drink or something to eat, even if it’s just a little.

You were at good distance with Carl and Lori, helping them to put things in order, when you saw Rick holding a gun on Daryl’s head. Fuck. You walked the faster you could and put yourself between them. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Y/N, get out of the way.” Rick said, seeing you were not going to leave he lowered his gun. “He was going to kill Jim.”

“He was bitten! He’s a danger to everyone!” Daryl argumented, you turned around and looked at him.

“Jim is our friend, one of us… we can’t just kill him. We take care of him, he’ll eventually die and… when the time comes we… we do it.” You said, a little unsure of your own words, but that was what was the human thing to do.

“Never thought you were this dumb.” He almost spitted the words at you.

‘And I never thought you were an asshole.’ That’s what you wanted to say, but you didn’t, you just rolled your eyes at him and left. Things were under control, no one pointing guns at each other, your mission was done. That was a stupid fight and a stupid insult, but you couldn’t ignore the sting you felt at those words.

It didn’t take long for Amy to turn and Andrea have to kill her, it was heartbreaking to watch. When everything was over you had tears in the corners of your eyes. Also, you heard Carol had to kill Ed, you didn’t watch it, but you knew what it meant. Even if he was a human being, he was a monster… and now Carol and Sophia were free.

After that you buried your dead, while the zombies had already been put in fire. You said your goodbyes to Amy and hoped she was happy wherever she was. Everybody were going back to camp descending the hill, you passed through Daryl and gave him a look, that you didn’t know if it was sad, angry or upset.

“Ya defend not killing the living, but if ya could, ya would kill me right now.” Ok, so your look was the second option, angry. You just continued walking and ignored him. “ ‘m sorry.”

“Oh, I bet you are.” Sarcasm covered your words. “Maybe I’m dumb, but not SO dumb”

“I didn’t mean it. I was just angry.” He said walking by your side. “I was wrong, can we be good again? I hate how ya’re looking at me.” And he did, he could get those eyes from everyone and not give a fuck about it, but for some reason, a reason that he didn’t know, or didn’t want to admit, he couldn’t get that look from you.

You stopped and turned to him, you saw worry in him and that was not usual of him, not about the little you knew about him.

“Don’t do it again. Don’t call me that thing. It sounds silly, but…” ‘it brings back bad memories’, you were going to say, but didn’t have the courage.

“I’m never calling you that again. ‘m gonna think about other insults next time.” He tried a joke, and you tried to remain serious, but he could see the corners of your mouth curving a little while you battled against the smile. You hated that people would make you angry, but as soon as they wanted forgiveness, you would laugh or smile, instead of giving them the cold shoulder like normal people would do. Some said you had a good heart, but sometimes you thought you were a fool.

“Ok, Dixon. We’re friends again.” You said offering him your hand. He looked at your hand and thought for a moment. “Come on, shake my hand to seal it. I don’t have the whole day, if you don’t take it right now I’m going to…”

And he took it. He took your right hand in his and you were not expecting to feel this way to a simple handshake. His grip was firm, but comfortable. His hand calloused and warm, engulfed your hand that was so little compared to his. You felt comfort, protection and another feeling that you couldn’t describe, but made you lose your words.

“Ya’re going to what?” He still had a hold in your hand, maybe because you were holding his back and thinking about never letting go of his.

“Don’t matter. It’s done. We sealed our friendship, so I don’t need to threaten you anymore.” Reluctantly you let go of each others hands and continued to descend the hill.

“Oh, was that a threat? You don’t look threatening to me.” He mocked you.

“You better keep your eyes open D.” You answered liking the way his initial felt on your tongue and how it was said so easily. “I may look harmless, but I can be dangerous too.”

“Of course, as dangerous as a Puppy”

“Remember that puppies can bite and scratch.” You said lightly elbowing him.

“My clothes magically appeared clean and folded in my tent. It was you, wasn’t it?” He knew it was you, he just needed a way to talk about it and thank you.

“It was the least I could do…”

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem D.”

Later that day, after a lot of discussion, was decided that everybody that want would go to CDC early in the morning. You were not sure if there would be anything there when you arrived, but you also knew you couldn’t just stay in the quarry forever, more walkers would come. You couldn’t risk losing more people. You slept in your tent with Luna to keep you company, at 3 in the morning you woke up and couldn’t sleep. You really tried, you were tired, but you were not able to sleep again. You turned around back and fort on your tent, until the sun started to rise.

So you changed your clothes, put everything you had on your bag and left the tent to start disassemble it. The thing was, you didn’t even know how to assemble it, Shane had done everything for you, so now you were having a hard time.

“Do ya wanna some help?” You heard Daryl’s voice by your side and you almost jumped out of your skin. “Sorry, didn’t wanna scare ya.”

“Please, I have no idea what I’m doing.” You confessed shamelessly. In fact he didn’t even waited for your answer to start helping you.

“I realized that from distance, anyone could see ya struggling from miles away.” He joked, but it was not completely a lie, your struggle was very clear.

“Well, Lucky me, you offered help.”

After everything was ready to go, you started to say goodbyes, Morales and his family decided not to follow with you. A stupid decision in your opinion, but there wasn’t anything you could do about.

“Y/N, Carol and Sophia are coming with us. Do you mind going with Shane?” Rick came to you right before living.

“Actually, I’m going with Daryl. I figured it’d be better for Carol and Sophia to go with you.” You answered taking both Rick and Daryl by surprise.

“Are ya?” Daryl didn’t have time to think before the words left his mouth, and then you gave him the look that told him to play along with you. “I offered ya early, but ya never gave me an answer. I thought ya weren’t going with me.”

“Of course I am! Daryl Dixon giving me a ride? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” You grabbed your bag to put it in Daryl’s truck, Rick gave you a knowing look. He knew you were avoiding Shane, he just didn’t know why, but he knew you too well to not notice. Also, he saw how Daryl was surprised. “Luna, are you coming with us or do you prefer going with Carl?”

“Nah, she’s coming with us. My offer is only open if she comes with us.” Daryl stated, and you couldn’t resist but laugh.

As soon as you hit the road, Luna was all over the place. She wanted to go for the window and feel the air with her tongue out like any normal dog. She sat on your lap, forgetting she isn’t a lap dog, and you needed to hold her just in case, because she tried a few times going to Daryl’s side and you were not dying by a stupid car accident in the middle of the apocalypse.

“So…why didn’t ya want to go with Shane?” Daryl threw the question at you after Luna had calmed down.

“Cause Luna wanted to go with you.” You gave the excuse shamelessly. He snorted to your lame excuse.

“Bullshit! Spill the real reason, that’s the least I get for playing along with ya.” He took a small glance at you and returned his attention to the road.

“Okay… never took you for one that likes gossip but…” he gave you an annoyed look as if to say ‘just say it’. “I had a fight with him, when you guys went to Atlanta. In front of the whole camp actually.”

“The bruise, in his face, was that ya?” He asked, looking at you for a brief moment, and you nodded in response. “I knew it. Couldn’t be a walker, it looked like something ya would do.”

“How did it look like something I’d do?” Did he take you for the type to go punching people around? Maybe he thought you were kind of a badass? No, not possible.

“The bruise is just the height you’d be able to punch, no way you could hit him on the eye.” Well, none of the options you guessed, he just stated you were short, which you really kind of was. But you couldn’t let it pass like this and gave him a light punch on his arm. “Easy Puppy, I’d rather die fighting zombies than in a car.”

“You just called me short!” you stated as a justification of why you lightly punched his arm.

“And didn’t lied.” He smirked and then put his right hand on Luna’s head for a brief moment. “Why did ya punch him?”

“He lied. He told us Rick was dead.” You answered and Daryl said nothing, probably thinking about what you said. “I mean, any idiot can see if a person is breathing and if the heart is beating.”

“Well, it’s Shane. He’s a different kind of idiot.” What was he probably trying to say? “Maybe, he didn’t knew the difference at the time. I’m not trying to defend him, I don’t like him, you know.”

“I know… it’s just… I’m angry.” You said. Funny, because Daryl had told you the same thing to you, but of course your fight was very silly compared to the reasons behind your quarrel with Shane. “Do you think I should talk to him?”

“Is it going to make ya feel better? If yes, do it.” He didn’t even had to think to say that and he didn’t like Shane at all. That was one of those moments where you saw how good he was, and you wish people would see through his rough demeanor. “Take a picture, it lasts longer.” You didn’t realize you were staring at him for a long time.

“Sorry, I was thinking about what you said.” That was not a complete lie, but not even half of the truth. “But I don’t need a picture if I can look at you everyday.”

You wanted to talk more, but you were tired, your half slept night was charging it’s price. You didn’t know when you slept, but after 2 hours you woke up the car was slowing down until stopping. Luna was laying in your lap awkwardly, half her body was on the car seat and her head was on Daryl’s lap.

“Morning Sleepyhead!” Daryl took a small glance at you.

“Hey… sorry, I didn’t want to sleep, but I was tired.” You ran your hands on Luna’s back. “Why are we stopping?”

“Don’t know, guess it’s a problem with the RV.” He took Luna’s head from his lap and talked to her as to a child, you didn’t even paid attention to what he was saying you just thought that was adorable.

You broke the moment putting a harness on Luna, so you could leave the car. As soon as you left the car your eyes found Shane and you decided to take the opportunity to talk to him.

“D., can you look after Luna for a little while?” You asked him, giving your best puppy eyes, without even noticing.

“Alright Pup, go and do what you need to do.” He said grumply taking the harness. “Go, before I regret it”

“Okay, thanks.” You gave a little smile and left in Shane’s direction.

When Shane saw you walking in his direction, he thought there would come trouble, because any moment you two talked, you would fight. He regretted all the fights, but it was as if he couldn’t control himself, in this world… he couldn’t be soft, gentle or unprepared. He couldn’t also let anything bad happen to the one’s he cared, even if he had to make some sacrifices along the way, and that was what scared him the most. He felt like he was losing his humanity and he didn’t see any other option.

“Shane, can we talk?” You finally approached him, expectations very high and afraid of the outcome.

“I don’t want to fight Y/N…” well, you didn’t want this too, but it didn’t depend only on you.

“Me neither. I just wanna my nice big bro Shane back, you know…” You said, eyes on the mark you had left on his left cheek. “I’m sorry, for the punch.”

“I probably deserved, a cop that can’t tell the difference between the dead and the living…”

“You were probably nervous, I can only imagine the chaos the hospital was and… and you said they were shooting everyone in there, you were probably also afraid.” You said and took his hand in yours. “I’m sorry, I was angry and shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“I’m sorry, I have been an asshole lately.” He admited.

“Lately?” You mocked him. “Let’s be good again, I don’t punch you anymore and you don’t piss me off. You know, just like you and Rick, I grew up and I don’t need you to protect me from everything. You should be the cool big bro that encourage me to do reckless things that Rick wouldn’t want me to do.”

“Just like… hanging out with Daryl Dixon?” He suggested and he knew he was entering a delicate topic because you already fought before about it.

“Yeah, he’s a good person and my friend. You should encourage me to make other friends, the world went to shit and the people is all we got.” You chewed the inside of your cheeks hoping you would not start fighting again.

“You know, I only act like this, because I don’t want you in the same situation you had with Paul.” He confessed, and in part it was true, you were never the same after Paul, after all the psychological abuse. It took months for you to go back to your normal self, and a german shepherd puppy to make you smile and live again. But on the other hand, it was also his prejudice against the Dixon Brothers.

“I already told you, it’s not like this.”

“I see the way you look at him. It’s the same way you used to look at Jack Jones.” He stated, and you remembered your first crush at school. You never had the courage to tell him what you felt.

“I surely don’t, I’m no teenager and… hey maybe I could have avoided all this situation with Paul if I had told Jack how I felt…” You tried to deny, but you knew that maybe he was right… maybe you had a crush on Daryl. “Just let me live, please Shane? If I die tomorrow, I want to know I lived to the fullest. I don’t expect to find love or anything in a world like this, but I want to be with people I enjoy being with and protect the people I love.”

“Don’t say no sense. You’re not going to die, I’m not letting you die.” He stated. “It’s ok, you can be friends or more than friends with whoever you want, but let me know if anyone hurt you…”

“Thank you Shane.” You hugged him tightly. “And please… let go of Lori, you’ll only hurt you and her. I say it, because we’re family and I love you.”

You left his embrace and you saw the hurt and sadness in his face, maybe a little anger too, but you hope he would not blame you for this and listen to your advice.

“Go to your boyfriend before he comes here and kill me.” Shane played after he saw the way Daryl was looking at the both of you.

“Shut up Shane!” You gave him a punch on his arm before you left.

“By the way, I’m proud of your punchs, you really learned how to beat someone properly.” He kind of yelled at you, and you just laughed. Well they really taught you how to beat someone and how to make it as painful as possible.

After that Shane left with T.Dog to try finding replacement parts for the RV. You go to Daryl and take Luna from him, you could not ask for him to do more than he already did. “Thank you.” You told him.

“ ‘s nothing. It’s always good to pass some time with Luna.” He replied taking a cigarette and lightening it. His curiosity taking the better of him. “Are ya feeling better?”

“Yes, I guess. Things went well. Thank you for the advice.”

Jim was getting worse over the time, you thought he would not make it to the CDC and in truth, you knew nobody survived from a bite, you never saw one single person survive it. Rick was new to all this shit, so he had hope, but you knew Jim would not make it and that nobody could in fact help him.

The RV was fixed, but now you got another problem, Jim was bad and he had decided to stay behind. Rick tried to convince him otherwise, but he had made his choice and you should all respect. It was sad leaving him behind, but you couldn’t stop any more time, you needed to keep going. You entered Daryl’s truck, a heavy silence following the both of you. He started the car, his forehead frowned and the eyes on the road. You could feel he regretted his actions towards Jim.

“You were not completely wrong.” You finally said taking him by surprise. “You just had the wrong approach.”

Silence. Not the comfortable one.

“The most compassionate thing to do in a world like this, would be to not let the people we like turn into one of those…”

“Why?” He asked, eyes on the road, not even giving a glance at you. Your were took by surprise and didn’t know what he meant. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because this whole situation made me think and… I know you have your own thoughts about it too. We can’t be so radical, but we should think about doing something to not let each other turn.” You wanted to look at him, you wanted to hold his hand, but you couldn’t, you knew you had crossed lines when you told him those things. You didn’t even know if he considered you a friend that could discuss this kind of things and tell when someone is wrong or right.

“Yeah, ya know a lot of shit.” The bitter comment left his mouth seconds after what you said.

“Daryl, if I ever get bit, I want you to end it for me.” You didn’t know what made you say it, but you just ignored his comment and threw this bomb on him. He almost hit the brakes the moment the words left your mouth.

“What the fuck?!” He cursed. “Don’t ask me something like that. Yar not getting bitten.”

“You don’t know.” Seeing Jim like this made you think. You didn’t want to die alone, you didn’t want to turn, you didn’t had the courage to do it yourself and you didn’t want Rick, Shane, Lori or ,in the worst scenario, Carl to do this. “Promise me”

“I ain’t promising you shit!” He didn’t understand why he got so angry at what you said and asked, it should be something normal to ask each other in a damn Zombie apocalypse. But the thought of you getting bitten… it bothered him in more ways that he could admit. “Stop talking no sense. We’re not losing anyone else to those fuckers.”

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing were becoming and habit that you didn’t want to keep, but how could you stop when you were afraid you hurt people.

“Ya don’t need to be.” He answered than he looked at you for some seconds before landing his eyes on the road again.

You decided against opening your mouth again, you pet Luna’s back and stared out of the window. When you were not looking Daryl stared at you for a little longer than what he should while driving. He over reacted, he knew it. He could not be good with his feelings and also short tempered, but he knew when he let it took the best of him. He had already lost Merle, he knew he was alive, but he was alone. Again. That wasn’t the first time Merle let him alone, and he didn’t know how it affected and made Daryl feel. In a world so big like this, maybe they’d never see each other again and he would never know. At the moment, you were the only friend he had. Could he call you a friend? And even though, there was other people that were polite to him, you were the only one that would talk more than 2 words to him. Not that he made a big effort to have a conversation to others, but you seemed to not care his short answers. The thought of you being bitten and he being left alone again, felt as if a giant rock was put on his chest. He didn’t like all this thoughts, but he couldn’t just stop them. His right hand went to Luna’s head that once again was on his lap, and he could not help but grow fond of the dog.

It was almost night when you arrived at the CDC. The place was a cemitery, there were bodies everywhere and some walkers too. You all got our of the cars and went to the entrance of CDC. All was closed, with heavy strong metal doors. You knocked, called, pleaded but there was no answer. Some started to not believe anymore on the possibility of the CDC having someone in there, but you couldn’t stop believing. You were already there, it was getting dark and it was not safe being outside. When you had lost hope, Rick saw the camera moving and you continued asking for help until the big metal door opened and you could see the big iluminated hall inside the building. You filled your lungs with hope and could breath relieved that you would have a place to stay.

Final Note: Thanks for everyone reading, liking, reblogging and commenting, it’s really good to receive your feedback.

Taglist: @sunnybunnyy2

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x grimes!reader

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its-time-to-write · 11 months

Note

hello! only if you’re comfortable with writing it of course, could i request a fic where the reader has a really bad day at work and jamie comes over with snacks to watch movies and stuff while giving the reader reassurance?🫶

no pressure ofc!!

-xx<3

Plot? We don’t know her. Thanks for requesting! This helped me put of my slump a little

send for me

“Argh!” You slam the door to your flat in frustration and throw your bag on the floor so hard it bounces. It’s been an absolute shit day. Everything that could possibly have gone wrong, went wrong, and somehow it became your responsibility to fix it. It was like one of those dreams where you can never get where you’re going no matter how fast you run. You always seem to end up going backwards.

But now you’re home and you’re free to scream to the void in peace. You trudge to your room and flop facedown on your bed, shoes and clothes still on, resolving not to move until the sun comes up.

You’re there for maybe ten seconds when your stomach grumbles. Shit.

You groan and roll over. You should probably eat something. Hopefully there are good leftovers in the fridge because you are absolutely not cooking. You remember that you just cleaned everything out yesterday and you’re pretty sure that nothing could make this day worse.

You pull out your phone to order takeout and see you have a missed text from one Jamie Tartt.

Double shit.

With the way today’s going, it’s probably a breakup text.

(It’s not, you’re just dramatic.)

What it actually says is, Hey love, how was ur day? ;)

You smile ever so slightly, despite yourself.

You reply with a singular: shitty to which Jamie says, be over in 20.

—

You hear the key turn in your door almost exactly twenty minutes later, and you have not moved from the bed.

That’s actually not true, you moved once to roll back over onto your stomach.

You can hear Jamie moving around in the kitchen before coming into the bedroom.

You hear his footsteps stop at the foot of your bed.

“Babe,” he says.

You grunt in response.

“Have you been here the whole fucking time?”

“Jamie Tartt,” you say, face still pressed into your pillow, “you better wipe that goddamn smile off your face before I flip over.”

“How’d you even know I was smiling?” he says defensively, and you don’t need to look at him to know that he still is. You roll over to face him.

Jamie makes what he calls his “empathy face.”

“Aw, babe,” he says. “You didn’t even change out of your work clothes?”

You shake your head, making no effort to get up.

Jamie shakes his head back at you and then, without warning, flops on top of you.

“Jamie!” you shriek, “get off!”

You try to shove him off you, but you swear he wills himself to be heavier.

“Nope,” he says, voice muffled due to the fact that his head is in the crook of your neck.

You wiggle a few times, then give up, succumbing to giggles. Jamie pushes himself up a little bit and grins.

“There it is!” he says. “Fucking best part of me day.” He’s getting up just as fast as he laid down. “Let’s get you into some pajamas, yeah?”

You sit up and let Jamie take off your work clothes and maneuver you into an old t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s been over enough times that he knows where everything is. He can’t resist making a comment about your semi-naked body, one that makes you blush and smack him, while he sticks his tongue out at you. The only way to get rid of that cocky look is to kiss it off his face, so you do. You’re kissing him and he’s sliding his hands up your shirt so you move to take it off but he grabs your hands and says, “Oi!”

You still. “What?”

“Took me forever to get you out of bed, I’ll get you back in it but I brought food. It’s in the kitchen and it’s gettin’ cold.”

You squint at him. “Fine. But after that you’re going to fuck me so good that I’m going to completely forget this fucking awful day.”

Jamie gives you a small salute and says, “Yes boss,” before hauling you over his shoulder and into the kitchen.

—

You’re halfway through the pizza he brought when you say, “Should you be eating this?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. What Roy don’t know won’t kill him.”

You laugh and lapse back into silence.

You both have a few more bites when Jamie asks, “D’you want to talk about it?”

You glare at the slice you’re holding. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Jamie waits expectantly.

“It just fucking sucked,” you say frankly. “Everything went wrong. I had to deal with it. I didn’t get anything done that I needed to, and I’m pretty sure that I’m going to get in trouble for it tomorrow. And I hate that shit. None of it was my fault but fucking Matt from HR is going to tell everyone that it was because he fucking hates me.”

Jamie nods. “Fuck Matt from HR,” he says.

You shrug. “I just want to, I don’t know, reset my fucking heart rate to a normal pace. It’s all batshit crazy because I’m so stressed. And tired. And I’ve sworn more today than I have in my entire fucking life.”

Jamie laughs at that. “Gonna give Roy a run for his money, ey?” he asks.

“I’ve been thinking about letting my eyebrows go,” you say seriously. “Go for the full look.”

“One’s enough, babe.” Jamie shudders. “Hey, when you’re done, we’re gonna watch a movie.”

You open your mouth to protest but he shushes you. “Don’t want to hear it, this is your one opportunity to make me watch a movie of your choice, no complaints.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Fine, some complaints.”

—

You picked Jamie’s season of Lust Conquers All. Hey, he said minimal complaining. Plus, he adds a nice narrative. He has a lot of things to say about it.

The credits are rolling on episode three, and you and Jamie are sitting on your couch. Well, he’s sitting. You’re laying down with your legs across his lap. He wraps an arm around you waist and pulls you onto his lap for a kiss.

“Babe,” he says between kisses, “did you mean what you said earlier? We can just go to sleep if you want.”

You smile. “Take me to bed Tartt.”

Jamie smiles back then stops. “Wait. Did you mean, like, to sleep or..?”

You roll your eyes. “For sex, Jamie.”

Jamie grins again. “Right, yeah, that’s what I thought, just wanted to be sure.”

You stand up and he follows, letting you pull him to the bedroom.

He says, “Lead the way, boss,” and you tell him you’re pretty sure you can work with that.

It’s a better ending to the day than you thought it was going to be.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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m-jelly · 8 months

Text

Chapter 1

Thank you @ladycheesington for the perfect banner <3

Vampire Levi x fem!reader

Victorian era like world, vampires, secrets, romance, falling in love, vampire lore, sexual tension, possessive Levi, protective Levi.

Story: Romance blooms quickly for you when you move to the big city. The mysterious Lord Ackerman sweeps you off your feet, but the two of you hold back your romantic and sexual desires due to unspoken fears. Something is off about the city once night falls and the secrets it holds are the reason why you both hold back. When Levi reveals he is a vampire, the two of you embark on a passionate loving romance and he opens a whole new and hidden world to you. As the two of you find bliss in each other, the vampire Queen of the city is not happy. Determined to keep her favourite pet as hers, she tries everything to get rid of you and tighten her loosening hold on Levi. The two of you must face many odds together and must make some big choices in order to remain together or lose each other in a tear and blood-filled mess.

This chapter: First meeting with Levi, the mystery of the city and what you do. Another meeting with Levi, rising romantic tension and a possible love rival.

Part 2

The flame crackled as it danced atop the candle. Hot wax trickled down the white candle and gathered on the brass holder. A loose strand of hair had escaped the hold you had placed it in. The hair lightly caressed and tickled your neck. The tip of your pen scribbled away on your paper as you focused on the open books before you. Time was ticking and the point where you needed to return home due to safety was almost long gone.

You grew up in a nice town, but city life was calling. As an educated woman, finding your way and getting a job where you could flourish was hard. Countless men turned you away or asked you to work for them only if you did something dirty. Mr Callahan was the only person who had offered you a job and meant it. However, you had your reservations.

Mr Callahan had warmly welcomed you about two weeks ago into his records and bookshop. All you did was ensure records were correct and up to date and conduct research for people who requested it. Everything was nice and you jumped right into the position, but there were a few strange things. You were warned about staying too late after work. You accepted it at first, but as the days went on it seemed that Mr. Callahan was giving you work to get you to stay longer. The time deadline was being tested.

Everything went strange when a man entered the shop three days ago. The man was in all black and wore dark glasses. His skin was white, his hair was white as snow and lightly tussled back and reached the lower part of his neck, it was slightly long and would feel perfect as you run your fingers through. When you moved past this man as you worked he just stared at you as if you were some sort of rare creature. They both went to a private viewing room for work which resulted in you staying around a lot more.

With an aching neck, you raised your head and looked over to the old clock to see it was six in the evening. The sun would be slowly setting soon due to winter getting closer. Your spine and neck cracked slowly when you turned and cast your eyes out the window to see the lamplighters doing their rounds.

You placed your pen in it’s inkwell and rose from your seat. The wooden floor creaked under your small heels as you made your way across the office to check on Mr. Callahan. You tapped your knuckles against his private office but heard no answer. No answer came, so you opened the door and peered inside to see that the place was empty. Mr. Callahan has cleared his desk for the night and left you all alone in his shop.

You were so irritated but also concerned. You raced around the building and made sure you were packed up and ready to leave. You flicked your cape around you and dragged on your gloves to fight the cold night air. Anxiety nipped away at your heart as words of warnings about the night fluttered through your head. You needed to get home as fast as possible.

The door softly slammed behind you. You twisted the key in the lock and released a sigh. The air was just cold enough for you to see your breath. It was strange for the city to be so empty, but it seemed that most people had hurried home about an hour ago. You turned on your heels and began walking as fast as you could down the road.

Your heart raced in your chest as people started to shift out of side roads. Rumours were floating around the city about monsters coming out at night. Werewolves, ghosts and even vampires were said to be around, but you tried to keep your head down and ignore the silly stories. You just got home after work, locked the door and read a book before bed.

“Hey, pretty thing!” A whistle broke the silence causing everyone to look over at you. “Slow down and come play!”

You yanked your hood up on your cape and began to almost run through the street. Home was calling you and you needed to get far away from the people who walked the streets at night. Even the police seemed to abandon this city when the sunset. The sun had almost gone, you had just a bit of a pink and orange glow to light your way.

“Come back!”

You turned on your heels and went to cut down an alleyway but a cold shiver consumed you. A woman had her back pressed against the wall as she panted and moaned in pleasure. A man slowly lifted his head from her neck to show puncture marks from two teeth. Blood oozed from her wound and trickled down to her breasts. The alleyway was too dark for you to see the biter, but the blood on their teeth glistened. Their eyes locked onto you and glimmered as they took you in.

Run.

Your brain spoke but your body remained unmoved.

Run.

The woman was released and the dark figure moved closer, their smart shoes tapping on the cobblestone path.

RUN!

Your body rebooted and strength returned to you. You turned on your heels, sprinted across the road, and past the men who catcalled you. Your lungs burned as your corset squeezed them. Running with a corset was torturous on your body, but the fear of the unknown consequences of being caught by the beast in the alleyway drove you.

Small stones crunched under your small heels as you reached the small park. A fog had rolled in from the river causing visibility to be difficult. You slowed down as you tried to catch your breath. The oil lamps had been lit in the park, but it was dangerous to be in the light. You were like a rabbit being hunted and the lights were making it easier to be caught.

You just needed to cross through the park and down a road to get to your home. You reminded yourself of your route to try and calm your heart, but it was beginning to become too much. A sob had caught in your throat. This city was supposed to be your future and now you were learning the true horrors of it. You wanted your parents. You wanted to be home. You wanted to be sharing a cup of tea with your mother while wrapped up in a blanket.

A scream caught in your throat when a gloved hand covered your mouth. Your life began to flash before your eyes as you were dragged from the path and into the darkness of the park. Your back collided with a large. Your eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness, so you could not see the man keeping you in place.

Though your body was consumed with fear, something about this mysterious man aroused something within you. Even though he had grabbed you so suddenly, his touch was gentle. His natural scent mixed with a light dash of cologne was enchanting to the senses. The warmth from his body was comforting and your once-racing heart was beginning to slow.

A deep voice danced from the man’s lips as he whispered to you. “Those men followed you. They’re dangerous.”

“Th-thank you.”

He caressed your cheek as he took you in. You were so beautiful to him. “Forgive me for scaring you in that alleyway, but I was with my blood donor.”

You gulped hard. “Blood boner?”

“Your eyes did not deceive you. I was drinking her blood.”

“Vampires are real-.”

He covered your mouth and hushed you. “Not too loud. They are close.” He glanced at the path before looking back at you. “Are you new to this city? Weren’t you warned about the night?”

You nodded and waited for him to move his hand before you whispered. “My boss Mr. Callahan did warn me, but it seems these past few days he has been purposely making me stay longer.”

“What changed?”

You nibbled your lip. “A man with long hair like the colour of snow came in. He wore all back with white skin.”

“Tch, that fucker.” He groaned. “Forgive my sharp tongue.” He pressed his body against you as the men walked past talking about you. He watched them closely, made sure they gave up their hunt and turned around and returned to the street you came from. “I’m assuming you are going through the park.”

“Yes.”

He moved back from you. “You are safe to continue on your journey home. Try not to go out this late again for your own sake. You may not meet someone as nice as me again.”

You bowed your head to him. “Thank you so much for your help. I am sorry for inconveniencing you.”

He blushed a little. “Tch, there is no need for this. I wanted to help you. Go home now. I will watch from a distance to ensure your safety.”

“Thank you.” You hurried away. “Goodnight!”

He waved to you. “Night.” He waited for you to be further away before walking into the light on the lamps. Levi released a long sigh before raising his gloved hand and inhaling the scent you had left behind. “So cute and sweet.”

It was strange for Levi to become attracted and attached to someone. He knew very well he wasn’t going to part from you so soon. He wanted to see you again. Levi was very aware of Mr. Callahan’s place and was going to make sure to visit. Levi ran a trading company and owned a lot of businesses. Levi was a high-ranking pure-blooded vampire, so he held a lot of power in this city. Paperwork, records and books there at Mr. Callahan’s would help him out, but the main reason for going would be seeing you again.

Levi released a long sigh and felt shit that you had seen him in such a primal state as he fed from his donor, but he needed blood after beating a few rogue and dangerous vampire groups. Levi had gotten a few scrapes and needed to heal up, thankfully he had a donor close by. All his donors had been fully checked because Levi valued cleanliness. He was going to make sure that when he officially met you, he was going to be dressed in his best clothes and he would hide his vampiric ways from you for just a short time.

He knew he should leave you alone and be on his way, but he couldn’t help himself. Levi stuck to the shadows as he followed you through the park and reached your sweet home. He hummed in thought as he leaned against a wall while you unlocked your front door. It was clear you were still nervous and on edge, but there was something else to you. There was a hint of wanting, of need, of arousal. Levi was rather moved by your desire for him, but you were holding back.

He stared at the top window as a light came on, he was glad you had gas lighting in your home to keep the rooms lit. His heart raced like never before when he watched you in front of your bedroom window. He felt like a pervert as he kept watching you remove your dress to reveal your underdress and corset. A growl rumbled from him when you released your hair and let it down.

Levi pulled away from the wall as he felt dirty for watching you. He was determined to keep you in his life.

Mr Callahan stared hard as you moved around the shop. He released a long sigh before approaching you with a gentle smile. Yesterday he left work early and made sure you had things to do that would cause you to stay behind. The white-haired lord from the other day wanted to have you alone, but it appeared that did not happen. So, Mr Callahan needed to arrange something again.

He called your name and gave you a reassuring smile. “Are you all right? I believe you stayed late last night.”

You paused a bit and felt yourself flush at the mysterious man last night. “I did. I left just before the sunset and managed to get home.”

“Did you meet anyone?”

You hugged your books. “I met a nice gentleman who helped me home. Was I supposed to meet someone else?”

He perked up. “Did he have white hair?”

You shook your head. “No. The gentleman I met was not like the white-haired man who was here before.”

“Well, I am glad you were safe.”

You bowed to him. “Thank you, sir.”

Both of you turned to the front door as the bell dinged. A heat rushed through your body as you felt a strong attraction to the guest. Mr Callahan felt a shiver consumed him as he gazed at a very important man in the city enter his shop for the first time.

He wasn’t too tall, but a nice average height. He was dressed in all black with a top hat on his head. Small black sunglasses rested on his nose to hide some of his silver-blue eyes. His raven hair framed his pale face. His lips were slightly pink and kissable. The smart shoes he wore shined from the perfect polish on them. Leather gloves gripped his hands and made them look perfect. He held the top of his cane and tapped the bottom against the floor.

Mr Callahan hurried over to Levi. “Welcome, Lord Ackerman.”

Levi hummed at the old man. He dragged his eyes away and stared at you. He moved past Mr. Callahan and approached you. He reached up and tipped his hat to you. “Good afternoon, miss.”

You blushed as you gazed at the handsome man before you. There was something so compelling and alluring about him. You chewed the inside of your lip a little as you battled your emotions. “Good afternoon.”

He removed his top hat. “I am in need of some papers and books. Would you assist me?”

“I uh…” You gulped hard. “I can do that. I must inform you though that I am fairly new.”

He smiled and showed off two slightly pointed and sharp teeth. “I have full faith in you.”

“Thank you.” You turned. “Come with me then to a private room and we’ll talk.

“Wonderful.” He walked with you to a private room. He reached over and opened the door for you allowing him to lean in close and deeply inhale your scent. “I appreciate the help.”

You walked in first and set your things down. “I am happy to help you, Lord Ackerman.” You pulled a chair out for him. “Please, take a seat and relax. Would you like a cup of tea?”

He nodded. “I am fine for now, but thank you for offering.” He referred to the seat next to him. “Please, join me so we may talk.”

You took the seat right next to Levi as it was the one he was referring to. A blush made your cheeks hot and the warmth of the man next to you was intoxicating. “So, what is it that you would like to research?”

“I am interested in a few things.” He placed his hand in his blazer’s breast pocket, retrieved a piece of paper and presented it to you. “I have compiled a little list.”

You opened up the paper and scanned the page. “I can do that.”

It was hard not to be entranced by you and how you looked, talked and spoke. Levi was enamoured by you and the divinity of your beauty, scent, voice and intellect. Every moment you worked together was a blessing and pleasurable. As the books piled around the two of you, you both worked hard and gained the information Levi wanted. Often Levi found himself gazing at you as if you were this work of art that was produced by some goddess and was only for his eyes.

It was hard to focus with Levi so close to you. His scent was enrapturing. There was this supernatural pull between the two of you as if a divine line was linking the two of you. Forever tethered together through your hearts and fate. When you caught slight glimpses of his dazzling eyes your heart soared in your chest. Though his smiles and light chuckles were rare, they were all the more a blessing to the eyes and ears. Levi was a mystery you wanted to solve and he also thought the same about you.

You released a small yawn. “Forgive me. That was rude.”

Levi gently caressed your cheek with the back of his hand and fingers. “There is no need for such words. I have stolen much of your precious time today.”

You smiled and leaned into his touch as your body and mind craved more contact. “It has been rather enjoyable though. I am sorry for taking much longer to help you with your research. Mr Callahan would have been faster.”

He retracted his touch. “If I desired my arse to be kissed, I would have gone to him. I needed fresh eyes and a delicate precise touch. That is why I sought you out.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Most people would disagree with you on that.” He slowly ran his finger under your eye. “You should get yourself something to eat and drink.”

You nodded. “I will. Would you care for anything?”

“A tea. I will add something to it.”

You frowned a little before watching him pull out a flask. “Alcohol?”

He shook his head. “No, it is a medicine.”

You gasped as your heart went out to Levi. “Are you unwell?” You leaned closer and placed the back of your hand against his forehead. “You are slightly cold to the touch.”

Levi closed his eyes as he enjoyed your touch. “I am always cold. I have low blood pressure.” He opened his eyes and smiled at you. “This medicine helps with it. I am well, do not worry.”

You lowered your hand. “If you insist.” You held your breath as you shift to your feet. Bodies close to each other. You got a closer inspection of Levi. A warmth spread over your cheeks as you locked eyes with Levi as he gazed over the top of his glasses at you. “I will get you that drink then.”

Levi tore his eyes away from you. “I am grateful.”

Nerves bubbled in him as he remembered your gaze. He was always so cautious with looking someone in the eyes without his glasses to create a barrier. The eyes of a vampire when looked deeply into captured most people in a deep trance. Most were willing to do anything for that vampire. He dragged his sunglasses off and placed them on the table. It was clear that you were not strongly moved by his vampiric gaze as your affection for him appeared before you locked eyes.

The light tap of the tea tray broke Levi’s thoughts. He gazed up at you and smiled sweetly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He unbuttoned his coat and peeled it off his body to reveal the form-hugging suit under. He retrieved his flask and poured the blood into his tea. “Are you enjoying the city life?”

The intensity of his gaze made your body burn with desire. Words failed you for a brief moment. It wasn’t Levi’s eyes that had you hypnotised, but it was everything about him. “I am. Though, I must say it is rather scary at night.”

“It can be.” His actions were graceful when he collected his teacup and sipped from it. “I could provide protection if you allow it.”

“Provide protection?”

The seat creaked as he shifted closer to you. His alluring heat and scent mixed and made your body vibrate. His kissable lips parted ever so slightly. “The police here are not adequate at night. I would be happy to provide my assistance.”

You hummed a little laugh. “Are you proposing something?”

“I just wish to return the kindness you have shown me today.”

You retracted from Levi and faintly smiled as your heart stung. “There is no need. I’m just doing my job.” You signed off on the last of the papers and pushed them over to Levi. “Here is everything for you.”

Levi frowned as you rose to your feet. “Are you leaving me?”

“Of course, you have no need for me.”

A loud scrape filled the room as Levi’s chair dragged across the wooden floor. He stood before you hurt by your sudden declaration that you were leaving. “Have I offended you?”

You shifted to the door but Levi blocked your escape. “You have not, but there is nothing much left I can do here for you. Do contact me if you desire more tea though.”

Levi knew there wasn’t much he could do, so he moved away from the door and accepted his loss. There was something deep within him that wanted to possess you and have you as his, but you wanted to leave and he knew very well he shouldn’t force you to stay. He bowed his head as his mind raced at all the things he could say or do.

He clenched his fist tightly as he fought his emotions. “I will call upon you if I need you. I will miss your company.”

You bowed your head. “How kind, Lord Ackerman.”

“Levi, please.”

You gripped the handle tightly. “I will see you soon, Levi.” You left the office and felt the reassuring and comforting aura leave you. A long sigh escaped you once you were outside the private room. You made your way through the hall and back out the front. “Would you like a drink, Mr Callahan?”

Mr. Callahan gave you a weak smile. “I am all right, my dear.” His brow creased as he studied you. “You seem troubled.”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

He placed his hand on your upper back as guilt consumed him. Although he had spoken to another Lord with white hair who craved you, the guilt of it all was suffocating him. He was conflicted because he wanted to protect you but he feared what would happen if he did not comply with this man. If he didn’t do as the man commanded, then he would go to the vampire Queen of the city. The Queen was someone to be truly frightened of.

Mr. Callahan smiled at you to give you a little comfort. “You know the young handsome gentleman with white hair?”

You chuckled. “You seem to bring him up often.”

“Well, that’s because he was rather taken by you.”

Your heart swelled. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” He moved closer to you. “It must be lonely in this city. You only have me as a friend. I am not telling you to court him, but perhaps you could meet him and spark up a friendship?”

You contemplated it for a moment and weighed up your situation and decided that it wouldn’t be so bad to get to know the white-haired man. “Very well. I will meet with him.”

“Wonderful. I will inform Lord Lucius Demont that you wish to meet.”

Lord Lucius Demont had a rather fitting name for who he was. Lucius meant light and Demont meant one who was filled with desires. He was a man of action and took what he wanted when he could. He was graced with good looks from what you could remember. Icy blue eyes with delicate long lashes would entrance anyone who would look into them. A strong jawline was complimented by his plump lips and pale skin. He was rather tall with broad shoulders and covered in muscle. His hands were large but in the good way that people wanted gripping them with prominent veins. His white hair wasn’t short nor was it long, but it was in the middle. His hair was styled messy that went down his neck and reached the base.

It didn’t take too long before the man himself entered the shop. He had such a commanding presence within the room. Black sunglasses rested on his nose to hide his icy eyes. He scanned the room and landed on you. He closed the door and moved over to you. Each step he took towards you made both your hearts race. He placed a large gloved hand against his pec and bowed slightly to you.

Levi had instantly sensed there was a rival pure-blooded vampire near. He moved to the door and spied on what was happening. Levi felt anger bubble away inside him as he watched Lucius introduce himself to you. It was well-known how smooth Lucius was with women and he had many running around him little a gaggle of geese. However, it was becoming clear that Lucius wanted you more than just another follower. He was a dangerous man to be around because of how close he was to the deadly vampire Queen.

You fiddled with your dress for a moment as you felt nervous. With Levi, you were comfortable and happy around him with some naughty desires but with the man before there was something not fully right, as if your gut was telling you to be careful. You wanted the floor below you to swallow you up so you could hide. You were tired and confused and you just wanted to disappear.

Lucius smiled a little. “Forgive Mr Callahan, I believe he has been rather pressuring towards you due to my mentioning that I was rather taken by you.”

You hummed a moment in thought. “I was put at risk one night due to working late. I understand that you both wanted to arrange something, but I do request that if you have desires towards me you talk to me instead of arranging things behind my back.”

“Allow me to say sorry by taking you to dinner.”

The thought tossed around in your head for a while before you made a choice. Loneliness had made its home in your heart and there was this longing within you to be wanted by someone and it seemed that someone was before you. “I suppose I could go, but I would much prefer a lunch as the night here concerns me.”

Lucius took your hand in his and placed a delicate kiss against your fingers. “I shall take you on that lunch date tomorrow.”

“I am off work that day. So, I shall meet you at the park near here.”

He raised his head. “Of course. How about at twelve?”

You bowed your head. “Yes.” You looked over at Mr Callahan. “May I leave early?”

Mr Callahan smiled softly. “Yes. You have been overworked. Go home early and I will see you in a few days.”

You retrieved your outdoor cloak and made your way over to Levi’s private room, which he hastily retreated into. The door creaked as you pushed it open. A divine scent filtered out of the room and wrapped around you. No matter how much you fought it, it was hard to deny the fact that you were attracted to everything that was Levi.

Levi was standing to the side so he was close when you walked in. He softly said your name causing you to look up at him. “I heard you coming. Is everything okay?”

You hummed at him. “I am going home. I just wanted to let you know as I have been with you all day and I did say I would come running to help you.”

“Well, I am finished for the day. So, I would like to walk you home.” He moved closer to you. “Only if you allow it.” The cloak slipped off your arm as Levi removed it. “If you told me to leave you alone, I would.”

You lowered your head. “That is the issue though, Lord Ackerman.”

Levi was speechless when you looked up and returned his gaze. His vampiric powers gave him the ability to move people and yet in this moment, he was moved by you. “Issue?”

You nodded. “I am unable to tell you to leave me because I don’t want you to. I desire your presence and yet I barely know you. I feel as if something is binding us together.” You placed your gentle hand on his chest. “Like there is a string binding us.” You retreated from Levi. “Forgive me. I am assuming so much.” You dragged your hood up to hide a little. “You may escort me if you wish.”

Compelled by your words and the feelings within him he could not stand by and let you walk away. Levi firmly wrapped his hand around your upper arm and squeezed. With a gentle tug, he returned you to him. “Wait a moment and I will go with you.”

You moved over to the table and looked over the papers and books on it. “Were you able to get what you needed?”

“For now, but I will return often as my view is rather nice.”

“View?” The realisation hit you causing your heart to race. “Oh, thank you.”

He pulled on his outdoor attire and turned to you. “I wish to use this room tomorrow. Would it be all right to leave everything as is?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” He raised his arm slightly as an invitation for you to take it. “Shall we?”

You wrapped your arms around Levi’s presented one and allowed him to escort you. A sweet smile spread across your lips as Levi moved with you through the building. Luckily for you both your guest and boss were nowhere to be seen, so you both could leave the building without anyone pestering you. It was a comfortable quiet between the two of you as you walked together with the sun setting behind you. This time you had plenty of time before the nightlife came.

It was clear to Levi how desperate people were to get out into the streets tonight. He could sense the tension in the air. Something was up with this city, it was as if people’s hunger and arousal had been intensified. Levi needed to get you home as soon as he could to ensure you were safe. The two of you had only met on two occasions, one of those you weren’t aware of, and spent all day today together and yet there was something so comfortable and right about you walking together and him protecting you.

It occurred to Levi that he knew where you lived, but he wasn’t supposed to. So, leading you to the park was the right thing to do but would also be suspicious. “Please, lead the way to your home.”

You glanced up at Levi. “Through this park and a bit further and we will reach my home.”

“I will protect you.”

You hummed a sweet laugh that was music to Levi’s ears. “I have full faith in you.” A thought plagued your mind as you made your way to your home. “Lord Ackerman?”

“Levi, please.”

You gasped as you felt slightly embarrassed at the thought of being so informal with a customer, but it was his request and you wanted to get closer to him. “Well, Levi…”

“Yes?”

You pondered upon your thoughts. “Why are you showing me such kindness? Is this unique to me or is this the same kindness you show others?”

Levi came to a stop outside your home. “It is unique to you. I have not cared for nor taken a fascination with a person before.” He caressed your cheek with his hand. “There is just something out you I find so compelling.” He retreated from you as a familiar voice in his head warned him about getting so close to a human. “Rest well and I will see you soon at the shop.”

A strong blush burned your cheeks when Levi’s lips lightly pressed with the back of your hand. “You too, Levi. Rest well.” You reached over and lightly touched under his eyes. “You seem tired and troubled.”

He backed up from you and knew he needed to draw a line between the two of you. He was torn. He wanted you so badly, but being together would put you in great danger. The Queen has an obsessive and watchful eye on Levi. For your safety, it was best that this relationship remained a business one even if you both felt something much stronger.

Levi tipped his hat. “Goodnight.”

You clutched your chest and shyly waved as Levi parted from you. “Goodnight.” You too had similar feelings to Levi. This city was dangerous and you were only new here. There was a worry in your gut that being involved with Levi or Lucius would mean harm would come to you. Being involved with either would mean crossing into the world of night, and from what you had seen so far the nightlife was the dark face of the city. No matter how much you told yourself to stay away, your heart just kept longing for Levi.

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brewstersbru · 2 months

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Queerplatonic Radioapple 📻 🍎,,, old men (losers) who care abt e/o

The thing about being an angel is that there are always bloodier, messier ways to do things. There’s an easy way, and there’s a fun way, and despite what they would have you believe, angels are much too bored with eternity to choose anything but the fun way anymore.

Lucifer curses whatever twisted being made him and bestowed his powers upon him- God- then backtracks in his own head, still deathly afraid of being heard and punished. Then, once he remembers that no one is listening, haven’t been for centuries, he curses them again.

Charlie is worried about Alastor. He hasn’t been acting himself these past few days. Rarely leaves his tower unless summoned, his smiles have become tight-lipped and straining. Even with the cursory attention Lucifer has paid him- busy with trying to make up for too many years in a hole- it’s not hard to see that Charlie is right, and something is wrong.

All it takes is a quick, plausibly accidental stroll outside of his rooms to tell Lucifer what it is. Charlie hadn’t asked him to snoop, but she’s nervous. Doesn’t want to lose another friend. Lucifer would do anything and everything to Fix It, and in order to get to that point he needs to know what’s wrong. So he snoops.

The pungent reek of demon blood poisoned with holy light permeates the air around Alastor’s rooms. To anyone but Lucifer it probably doesn’t smell too different, Alastor has very obviously put a lot of effort into covering the stench with rancid deer meat, and gamey sinner. Lucifer knows what a holy wound smells like, though, hell he’s not sure why he didn’t recognize it before now. Alastor’s obviously put in work to keep this a secret but it shouldn’t have worked for this long against the literal king of hell. He’s distracted, too comfortable, needs to sharpen the hell up if he has any plans of actually protecting his daughter and her passion project in any meaningful way.

Once he knows what is wrong, it’s not difficult to devise a fix. What is difficult, is coming to terms with what that will entail.

The way he sees it, there are three ways out of this situation. One, he tells Alastor he knows that he’s still hurt and offers to heal the wound through touch, which will take approximately an hour after which they never have to speak again. That one’s mostly a bust simply because Lucifer reckons Alastor won’t let him get past the first part without mauling him.

Two, he lets Alastor die of being a stubborn, pissy bastard. This one’s not really an option considering the whole reason he’s going through all of this trouble is so that Charlie will stop worrying. Killing him won’t stop the worrying, no matter how much he wishes it would.

Finally, unfortunately the only feasible plan, is to siphon the poison from the wound over time. Slowly imbuing Alastor’s soul with his own, tainted holy energy in order to heal the wound over time. If he does it right, Alastor won’t even know he was healed. The unfortunate part about this plan is that it doesn’t rid the wound from existence like a touch would, it simply transfers it from one soul to another. Lucifer will be taking the wound onto himself, where he can work on healing it naturally, as his body is not poisoned by the purity of angelic wounds. It will hurt, but it will heal. If the wound is left on Alastor, it will never heal.

Begrudging, but still determined to be as useful as possible to Charlie before he inevitably fucks everything up again, Lucifer resolves to go through with plan number three. It takes a week. Seven days of gradually increasing pain, of magicking golden stains from his coat, then being winded from using magic, of sewing himself together each night only to wake up in a pool of his own blood because the wound had grown larger while he slept.

It takes seven days, but at the end of it, Alastor is as chipper as ever, and the crease between Charlie’s brows has smoothed into something joyful. The wound now spans the length of Lucifer’s chest, wrapping around his torso near his ribs and up to his rightmost shoulder blade. Honestly, he’s not sure how Alastor survived so long like this and feels a grudging respect at the man for having pushed through.

The wound throbs, and every so often it will twinge, as if Lucifer were being cut in half- scored and carved all over again- but when he walks downstairs on the morning of the eighth day and finds Alastor cooking, Charlie seated, legs kicking happily at the island… He knows it’s worth it. Any amount of pain would be worth the sheer relief on Charlie’s face as she tracks Alastor’s every move, still looking for any irregularities. Something like pride swells within Lucifer at the knowledge that she will find none. He did that. He brought her that solace. No one will ever know, but that wasn’t the point of it.

“Good morning your majesty!” Alastor crows from the stove, he doesn’t turn to greet him. For a moment Lucifer wonders how he had known he was there, but a pair of eyes glinting in the shadows of the hallway tells him all he needs to know about that. Charlie perks and glances over at him as he’s addressed.

“Good morning, Alastor! You seem awful chipper today, feeling better?” No one will know he helped Alastor, yes, but that doesn’t mean he cant have fun with this. Just the look on his face right now- a smile, frozen, as his brows draw inward in incredulity- is worth the twinge that talking elicits.

Alastor, always the performer, recovers easily. “I’ve no idea what you mean! I have not been sick in decades, your majesty.”

Lucifer only chuckles, hiding his wince by taking a seat next to Charlie at the island. God why does it hurt so much? Why can’t he focus on anything else? Michael had torn off his fucking wings and stabbed him through the heart with blessed steel when he cast him down to hell and he can’t handle a little holy light from Adam? Eternity has made him soft. It’s fucking pathetic.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to presume. You had Charlie worried!” He grits, trying to keep his voice even and chipper. Charlie smacks him on the arm and he has to fight off a groan. Fucking. Worthless.

“Dad! I wasn’t- I just- UGH.” She stutters, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I still can’t believe we sent you to deal with Adam alone. That never should’ve happened, Al, I’m so so so so sorr-“

Alastor cuts her off with a grin, sliding a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of her. “No need, my dear! As you can see I’m right as rain and in one piece.” His eyes slide over to Lucifer for a moment and he hums.

“Would you like some breakfast, your majesty?” He asks, turning back to the stove. Lucifer shakes his head, then regrets it when it makes him dizzy.

“I’m alright, thank you. Had a big dinner.” He manages. Alastor hums again, and Lucifer isn’t sure whether that means he believes him or not.

Charlie finishes her meal in quiet, comfortable conversation with Alastor, some of the other hotel residents who stop in for a bite and, occasionally, Lucifer when he manages to push down the nausea enough to speak without fear of barfing all over her nice pantsuit.

She leaves with little fanfare, but she does pull Lucifer into a side hug that, while agonizing, he will cherish forever. The rest of the ‘reformees’ make their way through the kitchen for the next thirty minutes until Charlie calls everyone to the atrium for some bonding exercises. Alastor does not make any move to leave the kitchen at the announcement, so Lucifer doesn’t, either. He’s also unsure of his ability to not pass out if he stands right now.

It’s so warm in the kitchen, Alastor had the ovens on for cinnamon rolls and it smells heavenly. If Lucifer closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that Lilith is still here, that he hasn’t fucked it all up with Charlie yet. He dozes on the thick marble of the island, chest still twinging, but strangely at peace.

It’s another five minutes of warm silence before the clink of a plate beside his elbow rouses him. A warmth settles to his right.

Blinking his eyes open, Lucifer catches sight of Alastor looking at him. Through him, might be a better description of the action; his eyes rove, calculating over the planes of Lucifer’s face. Alastor isn’t frowning- he never frowns- but there’s a crease between his eyebrows. Maybe those are like wounds, too, they don’t heal they just transfer to another person. Maybe Charlie’s just transferred to him, like his wound had transferred to Lucifer.

Lucifer snorts to himself at his own little joke. The crease deepens.

“You were not at supper last night.” Alastor prompts, finally. Lucifer isn’t quite sure how that’s relevant right now.

“Yeah, and neither were you.” Check and mate. A bit of radio static pierces through the air at his quip. Lucifer smiles to himself, sitting up.

With the knowledge that he’s under scrutiny, he puts more work into affecting his usual trite joviality. Alastor simply raises a brow as he hands him a fork and gestures to the full plate in front of him. Lucifer is shocked still for a moment. Alastor made this food. He made it, and he’s giving some to Lucifer? Of his own volition? Lucifer takes a moment to rack his brain for any side effects of the siphoning that might make him act like this but the only possible explanation is the sheer adrenaline of relief, knowing you’re not dying anymore.

“You made this for me?” Lucifer asks, voice small. He can’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he ate anything. He doesn’t need to, not really, but it’s nice when there’s love in it. When someone takes the time to care about him in this way. Lucifer’s never found himself all too worth cooking for, and that’s most of the reason why he didn’t, in all those years spent alone since Charlie and Lilith leaving.

Alastor rolls his eyes.

“Obviously. It would be rude not to indulge, you know. So get to it!” His voice is filled with static, it takes a moment for Lucifer to parse his words. He takes the proffered fork and takes a small bite of the scrambled eggs. Father Almighty. They’re perfectly fluffy, well seasoned and just the right temperature! Lucifer can’t help the pleased sound that escapes him at the taste. He glances up at Alastor to find that his grin has turned smug. Whatever. Lucifer’s not going to lie to him.

“This is really good. Thanks.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Lucifer takes another bite before asking, “Do you want some? I know you haven’t been eating, either, and you probably need it more than me.”

Alastor’s eyes narrow and Lucifer gets the creeping feeling he’s let something slip.

“This is the second time you’ve referenced an invented affliction of mine. I would appreciate if you refrained from now on.” Alastor hisses, the air around the two of them practically sizzles with electricity.

‘Imagined’ hah! He wishes. Lucifer raises an eyebrow, he makes it too easy.

“You’re awful defensive for someone who supposedly didn’t have an affliction.” He drawls. Alastor’s eyes flicker green as he stands, abruptly.

“Put your dish in the washer when you’re done. I will see you another time.” He grits, stalking out of the room. It’s not until he leaves that Lucifer notices that he’d cleaned everything up. The sink is empty and the stove is spick and span. The only dish left is Lucifer’s plate and fork; he’d saved him a portion.

Lucifer does as told and hobbles up to his rooms with a smile on his face and a full stomach. Maybe this whole siphoning thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

***

This siphoning thing was such a fucking bad idea. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Lucifer curses to himself as he hobbles to the bathroom situated on the skywalk between his and Alastor’s rooms. His stitches had popped in the middle of one of his unfortunately timed yearly nightmares about falling. So, on top of the popped stitches, he’d scratched his arms bloody, too. Usually when he gets like this he doesn’t bother leaving his room, the cuts will heal themselves as soon as he gets to his door, anyway. But with the extra energy his body is expending on healing the Adam Wound, they just keep bleeding, sluggishly.

It’s been a couple days and the wound has been looking better, but it’s slow going. Lucifer shudders to think what would’ve happened to Alastor if he’d kept trying to live with it. Speaking of Alastor, the bastard’s been making him breakfast every day now; and if Lucifer doesn’t make it down during the hour he spends cooking, he sets aside a portion and puts it in the fridge.

Lucifer doesn’t know if this is his way of being nice, or if he’s luring him in to try and poison him one of these days. Either way, it’s always nice to be cooked for. Poison wouldn’t work on him, anyways.

There’s a pit in his stomach, growling and gnawing for something warm to satiate it- something Alastor-made- as Lucifer bleeds ichor onto the carpet. He pushes the feeling, and the resulting shame, down deep within himself. How low can he get, really? Fuck. Pining for kind gestures from a man who ostensibly wants to kill him? How far can he fucking fall.

The door to the restroom is open when he gets there, which Lucifer is all too thankful for. He pushes, with some effort, into the darkness.

A part of him considers turning on the light, but he has no issues seeing in the dark, and it seems like a lot of work to go through for no reason. With a groan, he bends down to grab the medkit from below the sink, then sits himself on the closed toilet.

With shuddering breaths, he snaps his shaking fingers, doubling over as his night shirt dissipates. “God- fuck!” He sucks a breath through his teeth.

Lucifer stays folded over for a moment, taking the time to breathe once, twice, before unfurling into a now familiar agony.

He grabs a hand towel and shoves it between his teeth to muffle any unwitting noises he might make- he’d found out the hard way that he’s a screamer a long time ago- and threads the suture needle with dental floss. He ran out of actual suture thread yesterday and, not wanting to alarm Charlie or let anything slip, hadn’t asked where he could find more. Dental floss has worked before, and it’ll work now. It just won’t be as pretty as it usually is.

Lucifer has just begun stitching himself up- letting little whines and whimpers into the hand towel tightly clenched between his teeth with each tug of the floss- when the door to the bathroom bursts open and a humming Alastor strides through the threshold. He flicks on the light- though Lucifer’s unsure why, as he doesn’t need it to see, either- and immediately makes eye contact with Lucifer. Then the hand towel clamped in his teeth. Then the giant bleeding wound on his chest. Then the eight golden scores in his arms.

His eyes widen a fraction, then narrow into a glare.

He strides up to Lucifer and grabs at his jaw, but the hold is surprisingly gentle. Alastor runs a finger along the area until it loosens enough for him to wrestle the towel from his lips.

Lucifer’s not sure if he should feel threatened or not. It’s not like Alastor can do anything to him. Not anything he hasn’t felt before, at least.

Why is the steel in his eyes so terrifying, then, though?

“Explain.”

Alastor says the word quietly, but somehow his voice seems to echo in the room. Lucifer sits tall, unwilling to be made ashamed of what he’s done. What he’s tried to do, to help.

“You never would have let me close enough to heal you through touch. You know that. And Charlie would have been devastated if you died because you were too much of an uptight prick to let other people care about you. This was the only way. I’ll heal. You wouldn’t.”

Lucifer’s voice is raspy, a little hoarse from the agony of the night. He has to clear his throat a few times during the monologue. Alastor stares at him through the entire thing, eyes burning against the side of his face. It’s silent for a while and Lucifer is acutely aware of the fact that he’s still bleeding.

“Now if you don’t mind, I have sutures to-” Alastor cuts him off with a vague scratch of radio static, “Give me the needle.”

Lucifer hesitates, so he repeats himself, enunciating each word.

“Give. Me. The. Needle.”

Lucifer does. He’s nervous for a moment- god knows why- but it’s like he’s been telling himself: Alastor physically can’t do anything to him that hasn’t already been done. He’ll be fine. Alastor pulls a stool from thin air and settles himself next to Lucifer.

He expects a sharp, focused pain. Tiny cruel little stabs done in excess to teach him a lesson about doing Alastor ‘favors’. But Alastor’s hands are warm and gentle against the golden shreds of his midsection. Each suture is measured and careful, he moves slowly through the motions and keeps a steadying hand against Lucifer’s side as he works. He does not look at him, though, entirely focused on the task at hand.

The gentleness is off-putting, and it makes something flighty bang around in Lucifer’s chest. He suddenly feels the urgent need to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Alastor. I should’ve asked but I was afraid it would take too long. I’m surprised you’re still alive now given the state the wound was in when I first transferred it.” Lucifer chuckles. Alastor does not join him. He babbles on.

“I don’t regret it, though. And I’d do it again if I needed to. I mean have you seen Charlie lately? She’s got the pep back in her step! And you, you’re up and cooking again. Everyone’s so happy you’re back in the apron.”

Alastor hums, finishing up the sutures on his chest and immediately moving to the deepest gashes on his arms. Lucifer is just about to protest- really, those ones will heal soon enough, they don’t need anything- when Alastor speaks.

“What about you?”

Lucifer cocks his head. Huh?

“What about me?” He asks.

Alastor chuckles, pressing some antiseptic into a different hand towel than the one Lucifer had been biting on and passing it over the- now sewn- cuts on his forearm. The sting barely registers. It’s so needless. It’s so wasteful.

“You speak of all of these benefits but I fail to see how any of them pertain to you. Aside from your obvious need for your daughter’s approval, of course.” He says.

That stings a little, which is strange because none of it is untrue. Of course he wants Charlie’s approval; it’s the fucking least he could do after everything he’s made her face alone.

Lucifer shrugs, pushing Alastor’s hands away when they try to tend to his other arm.

“What’s it matter? I don’t need the benefits to ‘pertain to me’, I don’t do anything for these people,” he spreads his arms around to emphasize his point, “not like you or Charlie do. Besides, I’ve been selfish enough already, don’t you think?” The gesture he makes this time is similar to before, but he points through the restroom door to the window that lines the skywalk. Moreso conveying the idea ‘see what my selfishness has already culminated into? Eternal damnation for millions of souls’. Alastor raises an eyebrow.

“And what would your daughter think of this… philosophy of yours?” His voice is low, and he reaches out to grab Lucifer’s arm back into his own grip. Still gentle, but firmer than before. Lucifer doesn’t fight him on it and his eyes light up at the success. That’s… oddly endearing for a murderer-cannibal.

Lucifer shrugs once more. He doesn’t really see the point Alastor is trying to make, he’s thought this through. He knows what he’s doing.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it? She’s never going to know and we’re going to keep it that way. She’s got a bleeding heart, probably got it from her old man,” Lucifer chuckles self-depreciatingly, “it wouldn’t do her any good.”

Alastor finishes with the last bandage- more unnecessary, needless waste on wounds that will heal tomorrow- and runs the antiseptic towel under warm water before wiping Lucifer clean of his own blood. His touch is just as light as it was before, it’s driving Lucifer insane. Why won’t he just hurt him already. He knows he’s itching for it.

“You are not what I thought you would be.” Alastor says, finally, tossing the towel into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. His eyes raise, finally, to meet Lucifer’s own shocked gaze. He can’t muster up a response; what is he supposed to say to that? Is it a good thing? Probably not. A bad thing? Well, then he doesn’t need more fuel for his ‘bad thoughts’ journal.

Thankfully, Alastor continues, “Next time, simply come talk to me. I don’t want this to happen again.” He stands, brushing imaginary dust off of his overcoat- which, now that Lucifer is paying attention, why is he still in his overcoat at three in the morning?

Lucifer snaps his fingers- now embarrassed by his own state of undress and reinvigorated by the tender touches- and rematerializes his nightshirt. Alastor levels him with a disapproving glare when he reels from the exertion.

“Now why did you go and do that? I could have gotten you a shirt, and then you wouldn’t be dizzy. Pity you’re so stubborn.” He comments, with just the slightest tinge of frustration. It thrills something in Lucifer to be able to get that reaction out of him, even in this diminished state.

“Yeah. Pity. Look, I’m not going to promise you this won’t happen again. I’m going to do what’s best for Charlie and this hotel, always.” Lucifer’s voice breaks a little at the latter end of the sentence, he can’t bring himself to meet Alastor’s eyes.

There’s silence for a moment, then a clawed finger flicks delicately at his chin, tilting his head up. Alastor sighs when he keeps his gaze low.

“Stubborn. I am not asking you not to do it- you were right, I probably wouldn’t have gone for the touch healing- I am asking you to do me the courtesy of checking first, before you act. Is that clear?”

Lucifer mulls over the words for a moment, considering his options. All in all it’s not a bad deal, and if this experience has taught him anything it’s that it’s nice to have someone in your corner, willing to help if you let them in. Charlie is in his corner, but she’s also his daughter, and it will never be her job to help him with anything for as long as he is alive. Alastor’s offering.

Lucifer nods, hesitantly.

“I can do that. Thanks.”

Alastor shakes his head before turning towards the door.

“Put some of the green tube on your chest wound every night before bed. If your arms don’t heal by tomorrow, add some there too. Don’t exert yourself. I’ll know if you pop your stitches again.”

And with that laundry list of care, he disappears into the night. Lucifer looks at the stitching on his chest, wondering if he was being serious, or if he was just bluffing about knowing.

Three cross stitches glow a neon green right next to each other in the middle of his chest “X X X”.

Ah, so that’s how. Sneaky bastard.

Still, though, Lucifer smiles all the way back to his room, and if he notices a shadow tailing him on his way there, he doesn’t say anything about it.

#radioapple #queerplatonic #old men #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #theyre so odd and weird about affection #oh u didnt maul me and u made me food?#what do u like me or smth?#something something giving a monumental sacrifice and acting like its nothing bc if you dont you have to grapple w the fact that you care #anyways #brublurbs #enjoy idk how long this is but it took four hrs to write !

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shaunamilfman · 6 months

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Witch!Lottie Drabble

Summary: "Witch!Lottie keeps stopping by your bookstore to buy shitty occult books as an excuse to talk to you."

Lottie Matthews was, hands down, your favorite customer. Not just because she was liable to spend a couple hundred any time she set foot in there, but you felt a strange connection to her that you'd never felt before.

Your employee Jeff hated her with a passion, however. He claimed she was "Fucking weird." and that she often walked in, saw he was working, and left. It didn't sound much like the Lottie you knew, so you didn't pay much attention to him. You didn't care much for Jeff anyway, but he unfortunately was a model employee.

Sure, Lottie was a little strange. A little unusual. You think she might be a part of a cult, but that's not a crime. Hopefully. You had checked to make sure there weren't any unexplained missing persons in the area, just in case. So definitely not a crime.

If that wasn't enough, all she buys are books on the occult. Honestly, you only order them for her. You heard her murmur about "Getting rid of revisionist history," more than once when she bought books on the Salem witch trials.

You honestly didn't care what she did with them once she left the shop. You wondered if she realized she was creating her own problem by buying up the books she disliked so much. You wouldn't have stocked them otherwise; They really didn’t sell that well.

Still, the highlight of her visits came when she'd stand by the register afterwards and talk with you for hours and hours about everything and nothing. She'd always seemed disappointed in herself when you'd gently remind her that the store was closing soon, like there was something she wanted to say but didn't. You had hopes that she'd ask you out, but you were admittedly too nervous to ask her instead. Lottie Matthews had always made an intimidating figure, even in school.

She brings you gifts sometimes, little trinkets. She brought you a flower from her garden a few weeks ago. You look at it in awe every time you see it. Not necessarily because it's the most beautiful flower you've ever seen, which it is, but because it still hasn't started to wilt in the slightest. It's like magic.

…

She came in on Halloween one day and actually stops in her tracks to look at your witch's hat. She gives you an immeasurably fond look as she shakes her head slightly in amusement. "That's cultural appropriation," She said. You laugh quietly at her as you lean across the counter to look at her.

"To who, witches?" You ask teasingly. She hums in acknowledgement with a smile just smug enough that you wonder if she knows something you don’t. “Well,” You say slowly, “If a witch would like to come and complain she could file it in the complaint box.” Her face lights up as she looks around and says excitedly, “There’s a complaint box?”

You grin softly as her and glance towards the trash can. “Oh,” She says, deflating noticeably. You fake an offended gasp as you give her an affronted look.

“You were going to file a complaint about me?” You ask. Her eyes widen and she looks slightly panicked, like she just realized she put her foot in it.

“No, no.” She insists. “I was going to file a complaint about Jeff.” You can’t help the way you snort with laughter, head falling down on your arms as you muffle your laughter into the counter. You look up to see Lottie looking a mixture of surprised and pleased as she looks down at you.

“Sorry,” You say, “It’s just that Jeff doesn’t like you either.” She smirks.

“Good.” She says. You shake your head fondly.

…

You remember the day you found out extremely well. You were standing on a ladder stocking books on the top overflow shelf when she stormed in the shop, obviously trying to get out of the heavy rain outside. You understandably were not expecting customers when it was raining that hard and startled so hard you fell back off the ladder.

You had your eyes closed waiting for the inevitable landing when you realized it had been an oddly long fall. You peaked one eye open to realize that you were floating in mid air. You looked around to find Lottie staring wide eyed at you with one hand out, soaked with rain and so cold she was shaking.

You remember it so well mostly because she forgot to put you back on the ground as she confesses. You look fearfully at her before she suddenly realizes she hasn't set you down. "Oh!" She says, failing to hide her blush as she helped you down.

You weren't all that surprised honestly once you got over your initial shock. It seemed ironically on brand for what you knew about her. Once she sets you on the ground you give her a concerned look. You walk behind the counter as you search for the blanket you keep for when it gets cold. She’s watching you curiously as you walk back over to her and wrap the blanket around her, holding tightly around her shoulders.

“You’re going to get sick being so wet and cold.” You chide. She smiles so wide it practically splits her face in two. “You need to go home and change into dry clothes.” You say.

“I will,” She promises. “If…”

“If what?” You ask.

“If you say you’ll go on a date with me.” She says, touched with a tinge of anxiety.

You sigh dramatically, as if it was a really hard ask. “If I must,” You say, but can’t help the way you smile widely back at her.

As she left the store you shouted at her to ask “Should I be looking for your car or your broom?” She turns back so that you can see the way she rolls her eyes. She says something about “Reductionist stereotypes,” but you were laughing too hard at your own joke to be sure.

…

She never seems to be very showy with her magic. It's the small things really: you notice that her plants never die, her dishes are always clean, and her food never burns. You teased her for weeks after you realized that her popcorn always perfectly popped as well.

She uses her magic most often as a sign of affection. Just a way to make your day easier and to remind you how much she loves you. She'll pick up lunch or bring you coffee sometimes and it makes you think of her fondly all day as it stays perfectly at the right temperature. As if you could ever forget about Lottie, witch or not.

Eventually you happily fired Jeff as Lottie spent so much time hanging out in the bookstore now that you just put her to work instead. She was overjoyed for weeks about it. She'd never worked a day in her life, you could tell, but she cheated so much with magic that it didn't matter all that much. You couldn't help but watch fondly as the books she 'unpacked' flew across the room into their proper spots. She grins ear to ear as she walks over and asks if she did a good job. You know she’s just fishing for a reward, but you give it to her anyway.

As you watch her fret over recipes as she brewed potions you couldn't help but to think that she really wasn't all that different from anyone else: She just had magic. Your life together was surprisingly more domestic than you had thought it would be, but you wouldn't change it for the world.

#lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

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The Apple Of His Eye (Aemond x Reader)

Comments are severely appreciated please let me know what you think it keeps me motivated

(Y/n) was always known as the realms fairy, to be around her was to feel the undeniable warmth of her character, her gentle heart and sensitive spirit was the reason so many raves about her, it was a rare thing for a princess to hold such zest for life, how her eyes sparkled when she ran around the gardens looking for flowers and climbing trees, her melodic laughter reached everyone’s ears like the sound of a river flow, her mother Rhaenyra had worked hard to shield her daughter from any harm, she would rather put her head on a spike than allow anyone to taint her daughter.

“Princess Rhaenyra of house Targaryen and her prince consort Daemon of house Targaryen with her children, Jacaerys Velaryon, (y/n) Velaryon and Lucerys Velaryon”

(Y/n) clung on her brothers arm as they entered the room, everyone was staring and they were not very good with hiding their whispers, she had begged her mother let her stay back on Dragonstone, as much as she loved to wear fancy gowns Aegons nameday was an occasion she had hoped she could skip over.

Jacaerys placed his hand over hers as she gripped tighter than ever to his bicep, (y/n) gave a pleading look to her brother to which he responded with a reassuring smile, Jacaerys had always been (y/n)s safe haven, a person she could confide in and vice versa, Jacaerys adored his sister, she was everything the world was missing, gracious, generous, wise beyond her years, there was nothing he would not do in order to ensure her well being.

As they sat down to their respective seats (y/n) was seated next to her cousin Aemond, it wasn’t by choice and she could have easily avoid it still she thought it would be better if she sat next to the prince than her brother Jace.

“Prince Aemond, it has been too long since we saw each other last”

“Indeed princess”

Aemond agreed, how voice was monotone and quite formal. (Y/n) nodded to herself as she rubbed the palms of her hands on her gown to get rid of the sweat that was occurring from anxiety, she had not begrudged the prince, on the contrary she could not help but identify a sort of shame within her, she had been rudely awakened by yelling that night only to ran to the source of sound to find Aemond being stitched up and her younger brother with a bloody nose.

The words the prince had uttered were harsh, not harsh enough to take his eye and be scarred for the rest of his life. Her heart drummed loudly that (y/n) was certain it would burst through her rib cage, she hoped to mend the relationship within the prince and her brothers, maybe after all these years the fire of hatred could shimmer down.

“Do you enjoy dancing prince Aemond?”

“I know the steps although I prefer to be a spectator to such events”

“It’s your brothers nameday I am sure you could make an exception”

“I could”

Aemonds fury wasn’t towards (y/n), he had held a grudge over her brothers however he understood that it would not be fair to be vicious against the princess, the only reason he was cold was that if he even gave one smile to her Aegon would take it as an invitation to tease his little brother and her brothers would most likely take her away.

Aemond had fond memories of (y/n), he could recall the pig incident when she was the only one that scolded the others for the distasteful joke

“Stop tormenting him, how would you like it if he did it to you Jace?”

Her squeaky youthful voice trembled, she never took well with such jokes that were only funny on behalf of making fun of others, he could still bring the memory of her running behind him before he got up on Vhagar to depart, the princess apologised for her brothers behalf, she had even hugged him goodbye before she ran back to her mother.

“Princess (y/n), my name is Aden Baratheon, would the princess be so kind to share a dance with me?”

“Of course my lord”

The man was young, taller than the princess and dressed in a fine suit, Aemond scowled as the princess got up from her chair to walk towards the young man, when she placed her hand in his and gave him a wide smile Aemond instinctively gripped his goblet, he should have agreed to dance with her, his second thoughts over people that did not even matter to him held him back, Aemond was unfortunately a man that cared too much about his image.

“I must say you look ravishing princess”

“Well you honour me my lord, your house is based in storms end am I correct?”

“Precisely, have you ever visited our land?”

“No unfortunately, I do not take kindly to the cold”

“A princess like you would be offered the finest of furs, I would make sure of such”

(Y/n)s cheeks started to heat up, her gaze wavered for a moment as she focused on the ground to regain her composure, the lord was handsome, he held the usual Baratheon features of dark hair and blue eyes, they looked relatively similar expect (y/n)s hair was lighter leaning towards the honey coloured side, her mother loved to brush her hair and called (y/n) “my golden princess”.

As the dance continued Aemond wanted to cut the baratheons head clean off his shoulders, he could even picture his Valyrian sword swiping so easily through his flesh, an image that brought a smirk on his lips as he watched over (y/n) like a hawk.

“If I did not know any better I would say you have the hots for the strong princess”

“I must admit dear brother I am more surprised you can still see”

“Oh trust me I am severely drunk which speaks volumes for how painfully obvious it is that your little pecker is finally working”

“Disgusting as always I see”

“I am just saying what’s right in front of us brother no need to get hostile with me, go on then, dance with her”

“For her mother to see?”

“Rhaenyra won’t do anything, it’s a feast, if you keep thinking about our half sister the Baratheon will get to have a bite out of your little peach before you even show your teeth”

Even in his drunken state Aegon spoke some type of sense, Aemonds visual perception shifted from the woozy prince to the twirling princess, she appeared blissful on the dance floor, Aemond felt guilt spreading over his chest for denying her something that put her at ease, Aemond had observed how (y/n) put almost her entire weight on her brothers arm, even when she sat down he took notice of her wiping sweat in her dress, it reminded him of his sister Heleana.

“Pardon me, may I dance with the princess?”

“Of course my prince, we will speak later”

The Baratheon was so bold to wink to (y/n) in front of Aemond, if he had it his way Aemond would have cut his eye out, let him get a taste of what it is like, still for the sake of the feast and (y/n) he withheld from cruelty.

(Y/n) was puzzled over the harshness of the prince towards the Baratheon lord, when his jaw clenched (y/n)s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, (y/n) swayed on her feet as Aemond did not take the lead for the dance.

“My apologies princess, I should have escorted you when you hinted for a dance”

“It is alright, lord Aden was a good companion”

“Was he? Interesting”

Aemond muttered, what was he supposed to say? You shouldn’t dance with that bastard? He had no right to express himself in such a way nor feel anything about (y/n), yet he did. As the dance went on her eyes captured his soul, the grin that rested in her painted lips made him wonder how his fingers would sense if he graced them.

“I must admit I never pictured us being here, like this”

“Why is that?”

“You have been scarred for life because of my brother, it would displease me but I would understand why you would prefer to remain cordial with me”

“Displease you?”

“we were never at odds, quite the opposite you had been a tremendous help with my Valyrian lessons”

“You remember”

“Hen rhinka ñuha dārilaros” (of course my prince)

Aemond was so indulged with the conversation he had not realised they had talked through the entire dance, it was only when she broke eye contact and slightly bowed that Aemond looked around to see everyone change partners or walk away from the circle.

It was almost like a reflex that Aemond wrapped his hand around her wrist to prevent (y/n) from returning to her seat, she raised an eyebrow at the gesture while Aemond struggled to find an excuse to keep being in her presence.

“Would you like to take some air with me?”

“I would love-“

“Sister, a dance”

Jacaerys never left (y/n) out of his sight, his blood boiled at the scene of Aemond dancing with his sister, his mind racing with schemes that the prince had probably plotted to lure his sister in and hurt her, he would be damned if he let her go right in the wolfs mouth.

“I was actually going with prince Aemond outside”

“I am sure prince Aemond does not mind taking that walk alone, isn’t that right uncle?”

“Indeed my… dear nephew, enjoy your time together”

What he did not say was “while you can”. Aemond smiled at the princess and turned his back to retrieve from them his next target was none other than his mother, Alicent and Aemond always shared a close bond especially after the accident Alicent made it her mission to be the safe space Aemond could be honest to her.

“Mother, a word please”

Alicent did not verbally respond, she simply raise herself up from her chair to follow her son out of the room, (y/n) was too busy dancing however Jacaerys watched the mother and son depart, something in him told him it wasn’t just a coincidence that Aemond went to the queen, he shook himself to get rid of the presence of the greens from his mind and prioritise having a fun moment with his sister, it was a celebration after all.

“Princess, the queen is asking for your presence in her chamber”

(Y/n) had just gotten dressed when news of the queen summoning her, it was way too early for something like this which only meant it was important.

“Did her grace ask for my mother as well?”

“Yes princess”

“Alright then, let us get this over with”

(Y/n) had been frightened from the queen, Alicent had never done anything to the young princess, actually Alicent would always hug (y/n) and her daughter Heleana when they used to play together, (y/n) was the only person that could get Heleana out of her shell, the two princesses had been close for years until (y/n) and her family left for Dragonstone.

The walk to the queens chamber was rather short, howbeit (y/n) had started to sense cold sweat form on her armpits, the sensation was similar to dipping your legs in the cold ocean and the waves smacked you intensely.

“Your grace, prince Aemond”

(Y/n) curtsy respectfully as she entered, her mother was already seated directly at the head of the mother and son, it appeared like they had already discussed something that left Rhaenyra with a sour look, (y/n) sat close to her mother moreover Rhaenyra locked her one hand with her daughter, her hand was cold enough for (y/n) to be aware of how this might go.

“Has something happened?”

“No dear, we just have a proposition for you”

“For me?”

“I brought you here to discuss a match”

“You do not have to agree if you do not want to my sun”

Rhaenyra interrupted as she squeezed her daughters hand for encouragement. Rhaenyra internally prayed that her daughter did not agree to this, alas if the princess wanted to marry Rhaenyra would not go against it, she would not repeat the same mistake her father had done to her.

“A wedding match? With whom?”

“Me”

Aemond finally spoke up, (y/n) was stunted still something inside her fluttered, when the prince gave her a faint smile she could not help but reciprocate it, honestly (y/n) had never considered Aemond as a possible match until now, alas she was presented with such an opportunity, this could be the chance to mend all odds within the family.

“I- I am sorry it is a bit of a shock”

“You do not have to agree immediately my sweet”

“No I mean, yes I would be honoured”

“Are you sure? You do not have to rush”

“I am not rushing mother, this is a great match and would help us put any differences aside, Ivestragī īlva letagon īlva enoger” (let us bind our blood)

“ānogar, you always struggled with that world”

“ānogar, thank you Aemond”

Aemond only nodded as a sign of approval to (y/n), Rhaenyra and Alicent watched the interaction quietly. When Aemond asked his mother to betroth him to the princess she thought her child had gone mad, from what she knew they hadn’t spoken in years, even when they were children Aemond was too shy to speak to the princess, they played together sometimes but they had no type of bond that could cause Aemond to seek for a wedding.

Alas, Alicent trusted her son and called for the mother and daughter first thing in the morrow, once she saw the small talk between them it dawned on both mothers that this was no long year of a physical bond, it was a spiritual connection of familiarity, (y/n) was drawn to Aemond due to his noble ways and her soul searched past the facade Aemond had worked so hard to build.

Aemond was in much need of a person that he could lean on, her serene aura worked almost like a soothing balm against the wound that tormented him for ages, her voice resembled the sound of a wave that washed away any concerns or fears, (y/n) was the piece Aemond was missing, she was to be the apple of his eye.

Requests are open!

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crimsonhydrangeavn · 26 days

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How would the cast handle MCs toxic/abusive parents that happen to get back in contact after MC managed to separate themselves from them?

Ohh! This is a pretty interesting ask, especially considering some of the Li's have horrible relationships with their own parents. Garret's first reaction would be to charm the pants off of your parents. Take them out for a nice dinner, show them around the island, and finally convince them that you're in good hands with him and that he'll take care of you from that point on. However if for some reason that didn't work out unlikely, he would "politely" threaten them to leave you alone and never step foot on Saint Anne's again. Garret has a lot of powerful connections on the island, and he could easily make it so that they would never bother you again.

Marcelo's sweet and gentle demeanor would melt away into something far more intimidating that you ever thought possible for the gentle giant. He'd become your official bodygaurd and prevent them from ever making contact with you. He'd walk you to work, home, and anywhere else you needed to go. Hell, if they showed up on your doorstep, he'd offer to sleep on your couch if you requested it.

Camilla would happily get into a fight with your parents if they tried to bother you/ take you back. She knows her rights, as long as she doesn't swing first, everything she would do after could easily be described as self defense. She'd also carry around pepper spray just in case someone wanted to "cause trouble". If they ever returned after that, despite the charges and restraining order she personally would have filed, she would show them the video of them attacking her, threatening to leak it on line and completely ruin whatever reputation they had left. God help them if they were stupid enough to continue bothering you after the fact.

Rita would try to be level headed about the situation and be the voice of reason, however given that she's been in a similar situation before it would be hard to stay calm. She'd probably insist that you move in with her until they gave up trying to contact you. She'd also press trespassing charges and file for a restraining order if they ever tried to set foot in her store to harass you. Even though she's relatively new on the island, a lot of her regulars come from powerful and important families, so she could easily pull a few strings to have people patrol the area just in case.

Teagan would use them to their advantage. Growing up Teagan did everything they could to ingratiate themselves to your parents. After all, why wouldn't they try to get along with their future in-laws? Teagan would put the ball in your court, either get back with Teagan and they can get rid of your parents, or Teagan would simply sit back and watch them torment you until you break and inevitably go back home with them. It's a win win for Teagan really. Either way they get you back off of the island and they can worm their way back into your heart from the comfort of your hometown.

#original character #yandere visual novel #yandere vn #yanderes #male yandere #ask #crimson hydrangea #yandere #visual novel #crimson hydrangea vn #teagan conners #garret belmont #marcelo aguilar #rita miller #camilla bello

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vylad243 · 2 months

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Ok last prompt of this emotionless Vox au before I go back to my cave

So I don’t think it was Lucifer’s idea for the deal but Vox’s. He probably had to track Lucifer down which was hard enough as it was but also somehow convince him that his soul was worth it.Vox already had a plan on how he was going to convince Lucifer but when he got there and probably let himself in he didn’t expect Lucifer to be so depressed it was a pretty sad sight to see such a powerful feared man reduce to nothing

But who was Vox to complain it just made his job easier instead of a complex way of getting him to make the deal all Vox had to do was show him some affection and care easy. Well that’s what he thought the plan worked he ended up making the deal Lucifer got rid of his emotions in exchange for his soul and what should’ve happened after was Lucifer forgetting about Vox or just to be asked to do random task but no it wasn’t anything like it was much worse

Vox was stuck with the king Vox can only guess Lucifer grew attached to that small amount of affection he got because now he can’t get out he was literally order to stay and the worse part Vox can’t feel any hatred for king because again he can’t feel at all so he’s just stuck in this state of unwillingly going with the flow

At some point Vox grew to like his position sure he was the ONLY power supply for all of the pride ring with plans to expand down to the other rings but Vox can deal with that he was fine with Lucifer’s odd duck obsession he was fine with the movie nights every Friday to bond but Vox know Lucifer is just lonely he’s fine with the unexpected bond he had with him Vox was fine with all of it

Before Vox knew it he was Lucifer’s right hand man always there to get the job done who cares if it was against his will so is staying here and Vox certainly isn’t really complaining about any excuse to go out every once and awhile most of the time all he had to do was check on his daughter after every extermination day to see how she’s doing again accidentally growing close to the point she confessed a small part of her liked the days after extermination day when he visits which wow what is up with him growing close with the royal family ???

All to say Vox was content with the life he had that until that stupid smiling demon came back after 7 years that really might’ve ruined everything for him but seriously why should he care sure he got all cozy with the princess but he really doesn’t care. Alastor can’t make him feel like a dog anymore he can’t feel like nothing more than a pawn even if Vox still had his old emotions he’s sure he’d feel the same in the most conventional way possible Vox moved on.

Listen you can’t look at the way Vox talks to Valentino and say Val is the mastermind behind the Vees Vox has to be at least a little manipulative

Jesus, lots of emotions here 😭

Yeah, Vox can be pretty manipulative at times. I do my best to make it clear that my Vox isn't a good person- but it doesn't mean he deserves abuse. Like every overlord is manipulative and bad in their own way. It's part of the job. The only good person down in Hell IS Charlie

#hazbin hotel #anonymous #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #radiostatic #emotionless vox au #hazbin hotel lucifer

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