#do you understand what this felt like to open my inbox and see this

[harbingersglory]

Mayhaps something with (transfem) Kujou Sara fucking a bratty reader who (intentionally) pisses her off to the point where she goes all out with her full inhuman strength, ultimately knocking them up completely by accident because she was so caught up in the moment she forgot to pull out?

I bet nobody expected her to be first out of her siblings to become a parent, least of all herself, but she ain’t complaining!

{☆} characters kujou sara {☆} notes drabble, implied fem reader, sub reader, transfem kujou sara {☆} warnings 18+ content, breeding kink

Kujou Sara was not one to allow herself to lose her ironclad control– she was a general, above all else, a servant of the Almighty Shogun.

Yet try as she might, you..you had a way of getting under her skin in a way that had her patience and will tested. Maybe it was the bratty, teasing demeanor that had her jaw clenched so hard it creaked, or maybe it was the provocative words you'd whisper in her ear while she was trying to focus.

It was irrelevant in the face of her dragging you back to her quarters, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed into a thin line– she tried to be gentle, but her grip was firm on her arm as she pulled you into the delicately managed room, her composure cracking like shattering glass. She wanted to wipe that smug grin off your face when she slammed her hands against the door, the wall nearly splintering beneath barely restrained strength, her expression..less than amused.

"Just what are you trying to accomplish?" She ground out, her teeth aching from how hard she was clenching her jaw– and, though she refused to outwardly admit it, your little..distraction was working far better then she wanted to admit to even herself. "I told you not to..to do such things while I'm working. Do you ever listen?"

She nearly growled– like some common beast, she thinks, and she is glad for her tempered control that she did not embarrass herself in such a way. She still had her dignity. But Archons, you were testing that control even still– the way your tongue poked out like a child, mocking and teasing, as if you wanted her to snap.

She almost considered it, but..you were human, she had to remind herself. Archons knows she's never forgive herself if she actually hurt you.

"What? Can the General not handle a little playful banter?" Sara opened her mouth to snarl back a reply, but she closed it but a sharp click just as quickly, a grimace gracing her features instead. "Is that all it takes to rile you up?"

She wants to deny it, keep her sense of control, but damn it– the way your hands glide across her skin, your nails just barely ghosting across the flexing muscles of her back..she feels her control slipping faster then she can maintain it, her lip quivering.

"You.." She croaks out in reply, trying to subdue the uneasy urge that lingers in the back of her mind with every glance down at you, every touch of your hands, every word that drips from your lips like honey. The silence is broken by a low growl, her hands tugging you off your feet and practically shoving you onto the bed.

"What? Are you going to shut me up? Or are you going to admit you enjoy it?"

Fine, she thinks, fine! If this is what you want so badly, she's going to shut you up the only way she knows she can.

She wastes little time between shoving you onto the bed and climbing on it herself, one of her hands reaching up to tangle in your hair as she shoves your face into the mattress, her other hand fumbling with your clothes– just enough to expose your dripping cunt to her, nostrils flaring at the sharp tang of your arousal, her teeth bared in a snarl.

She can't help the raspy groan that tumbles from her lips at the sight– you looked perfect like that. Quiet, your face forcibly held down, your thighs soaked in your own arousal. She absentmindedly wonders if you'd been so wet the entire time– if you'd just been waiting, no, practically begging for her to just..she can't even finish the thought, her hands trembling and her control slipping even further.

Her free hand fumbles with the hem of her own shorts, freeing her straining, twitching cock, pre cum beading at the tip. Her fist tightens in your hair as she leans over you, pressing her chest against your back and aligning her aching cock to your entrance. She almost snaps out of the fog clouding her rationality, but it returns in full force when she snaps her hips forward, sinking into your cunt with a sharp hiss.

"Fuck," Sara curses beneath her breath, groaning at the tight heat enveloping her– Archons, she'd never get used to it. It only drove her further over the edge, rolling her hips to force more of her cock into you. "Not..not going to talk back?" She growled, huffing and releasing her hold on your hair to instead slip her fingers past your lips. The muffled, garbled response was..far more enjoyable than she expected, the hazy eyed look as she sunk fully into you.

It made her feel lightheaded, to be honest. She was getting a bit too carried away, but the way your walls squeezed against her..her teeth ached for an entirely different reason, tongue swiping over the sharp points before she leaned down to sink them into your shoulder, pulling out and slamming back in with a muffled groan. Her pace was frantic after that, dragging moans and whimpers from your throat like a chorus of broken notes.

She hated how easily you got under her skin, but damn it, she couldn't deny how good it felt to put you in your place. You couldn't even get away if you tried– you were human, and while it made you fragile it also made you weak. Easier to handle.

Even if your tongue was far sharper than your appearance would make one believe.

Archons, she was so close, though. She pulled her fingers from your mouth, nearly crumbling at the moan that tumbled openly from your lips immediately after– she may have chastised you for your attitude, but she still thoroughly enjoyed hearing you. Just knowing you were unable to form anything more complex then senseless babbling was a special kind of high.

She wants to speak, but even her own words fail her beyond a low groan, the absence filled with the slick sound of her wild thrusts, caring little about the stinging ache in her thighs as she pounds you into the mattress without a shred of hesitation or rationality beyond fucking you into silence.

A small part of her, the rational part, tried to remind her to pull out– but your cunt felt so fucking good she just kept going despite the sirens blaring in her head. Even as your limbs tensed and your voice grew hoarse from screaming, she kept you beneath her, nipping at your throat to leave her mark against your skin. She was so close, just..just a little more. Just a little longer. Archons, she doesn't ever want to leave– doesn't ever want to pull out.

Her hands grasp your hips tightly as she nears her own climax, slamming back into you with a broken moan– she barely registered the fact she had cum inside you beyond the thrill of it dribbling down your thighs, not even her cock enough to keep you plugged up as she tried to gain some semblance of control through the haze.

..Fuck. She was going to regret this. She was, every so slowly, coming back to her senses– the first thing she felt was embarrassment, then panic, and then resignation.

At the very least she hadn't accidentally fucked you into unconsciousness on accident.

She was much gentler as she sat up, her cock still half hard as she pulled out, inhaling sharply at the way her cum dripped down onto the sheets. She hated how arousing it was. No– no. She needed to get a hold of herself.

But then again..you didn't seem to be complaining, at least not yet. She hesitantly lifted her eyes to see your expression, her throat suddenly feeling dry at the smug satisfaction on your face.

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #minors dni #writing tag #kujou sara smut #kujou sara x reader #do you understand what this felt like to open my inbox and see this #it felt like a shotgun blast pointblank to the chest /pos #i am a weak man at heart i see breeding kink mention and my brain turns off #respectfully. lovingly. i am going to suplex you. #my weakness being used against me ohhh its over for me. if it isnt obvious by the word count idk man #quick hack into getting me to write for you. breeding kink. passes out #AND KUJOU SARA TOO??? lord have mercy #i am an electro women enjoyer this felt extremely personal #if this fic isnt coherent thats bc it isnt. i blacked out writing this. dont ask

[sarahreesbrennan]

Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. I prefer to leave my anons open since not everyone has a tumblr, as @neil-gaiman says it’s an internet backwater, but a lovely one for those like myself who enjoy an essay about fictional characters! Still I will close my inbox to anons if I must. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

#bookblr #discourse #in other lands #long live evil #les mis #carmen maria machado #writing

[cozage]

Gm!! I saw your inbox was open!! I was hoping to request something with Sanji, Ace n Franky with a selective mute (gender neutral) reader talking to them through their voice for the first time to confess? 👉👈

(Btw I wanted to let you know that your writing has such a grip on my heart, I must have re-read your Sleepy Afternoon hcs at least a hundred times 🥺🫶 and i hope you have a wonderful day!)

So sorry I didn't get a new chapter out today...the holidays kept me busy! Enjoy these sweet short stories instead <3 Characters: gn reader x Sanji, Ace, Franky Cw:  none :) Total word count: 1600

First Words

Sanji

Ever since you joined the crew, you had found yourself gravitating toward the kitchen. 

Being with Sanji was easy. He never pestered you with questions or asked you to speak. If he did ask questions, they were always non-invasive, yes-or-no questions that you could answer with a shake of your head. 

You realized you had feelings for him when he came into the kitchen one morning, dark shadows under his eyes. And before he began cooking, he signed good morning to you. You had signed back the same phrase before you realized that he had signed, not spoken. 

He beamed with pride as your eyes widened in shock. 

“You learned how to sign?” you signed quickly. 

He focused intensely as he watched the way your hands moved, and then slowly nodded. 

“I stayed up all night trying to learn the basics. I figured it’s lonely up there in your head.” He tapped his temple with his forefinger for effect. “I’m not very good yet, but I’ll try my best to follow you if you ever feel like communicating.”

You gave a soft nod, the thought making your eyes shine. Even just the effort of knowing good morning made your heart swell. 

As the days went on, Sanji got better at sign language. So much better that he indirectly became your translator for the rest of the crew if you ever felt like adding to the conversation. He came to your defense whenever Luffy begged you to speak, and helped make sure your voice was heard without ever judging you. 

As the two of you were sitting out on the deck one night under the stars, you decided you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You had to tell him. 

“I have to tell you something,” you signed.

Sanji stood up a little straighter, looking at you with slight concern. “What is it, my love?”

“I think-” you paused your signing. Saying the words with your hands didn’t seem right. You trusted Sanji with everything. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to say it. Out loud. 

“I think-” you whispered softly, your voice raw from time unused. But you grew more confident when you spoke again. “I think I might just be in love with you, Sanji.”

You could see him struggling to understand your words; the fact that you had spoken was enough to send him into shock. 

And then he leaned in and kissed you. 

You melted under his touch. Your body craved the feeling of his skin as he held your face against his. 

“I love you too, my dear,” he whispered back. “And my name on your lips is sweeter than anything I could ever cook up.”

Ace

Ace didn’t mind that you didn’t speak a lot. Or speak at all. He did enough talking for the both of you. 

Still, you liked being around him. At meals, you often found yourself sitting next to him. At parties, he was often at your door, dragging you out onto the deck to have a few beers with everyone. 

You liked how he could bring people together. He was always the life of the party anywhere you went. You enjoyed his warmth, both through his devil fruit ability and personality. 

You often found yourself staring at him, admiring everything about him. You knew every other person on the ship was doing the same thing. So even when his eyes locked onto yours and the two of you had silent conversations, you did your best to ignore that ache in your chest. He was loved by everyone. You weren’t special. 

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Ace said, taking a seat next to you on the deck. “I know you didn’t want to, and I know these parties can be overwhelming. So thanks for coming for me.”

You shook your head slightly, smiling softly. It’s no big deal.

“It is a big deal! You-” the rest of his sentence was cut off by a few of your crewmates screaming at each other and everyone cheering loudly. 

“Come on,” Ace mumbled, rising to his feet and holding out his hand for you. “Let’s go somewhere quieter. I can’t hear myself think here.”

You smiled and nodded, taking his hand. It was loud and overwhelming. You were here for Ace, to celebrate him being promoted. But that didn’t mean you liked being around crowds or rowdiness. 

There was only one place that was quiet on a night like tonight: the crow’s nest. So the two of you quietly snuck up the ladder and hid away from everyone. A moment of quiet amongst the sea of noise. 

“It's so peaceful up here,” Ace said softly. “I love it up here.”

You hummed in agreement. “I love you.”

Both of you froze. You hadn’t even been thinking about a confession. It had come out entirely on its own. 

You could feel Ace’s sharp gaze on you. “What?”

You cleared your throat, ignoring the heat on your face. “The view. I love the view.”

“You’re speaking.”

You finally looked at him, your voice rough. “I speak sometimes.”

“Never to me!” Ace ran his hand through his hair and took a long drink from the bottle in his hand. “You’ve never spoken to me!”

“I-” you stopped. You hadn’t spoken much since you had joined the crew. Only to Pops, really. And only whenever you were asked a direct question. Ace had probably never heard your voice. “I thought you had. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Ace said, laughing. “I just want to hear more of it! Tell me a story! Your voice is- is like-” he struggled for words, and then he smiled as his eyes locked onto yours. “It’s like a breath of fresh air.”

“It is not,” you smiled at his words, though. “You just feel that way because we can breathe up here without smelling our lovely crewmates.”

Ace barked out a laugh. “Stunning and funny. You really are the total package.”

You quieted at that. A true compliment from Ace didn’t happen often, and you could feel the blush creeping its way through your face. 

Instead, you laid back and turned your head toward the sky, choosing to watch the stars instead. You were almost asleep when Ace spoke again.

“I love you too, you know.”

Franky

You liked being in the workshop with Franky. Franky never tried to get you to speak. Most of the time it was too loud in there to hold a conversation anyway. The extent of your conversation was him asking you to get a tool for him, and you silently retrieving it. 

You weren’t sure it changed into something more, but you began watching him closely as he worked. After a day or two, he began explaining what he was building and all the steps that went into it. It wasn’t long before you were working on the bench next to him. 

Some days, Franky was chatty. He talked about his home, his old life, and other projects he had done. Sometimes he asked you simple questions about your past, but he never pried too deep. 

That’s what you liked most about Franky. Everything had been on your terms, and Franky had always received your decisions enthusiastically. He always supported you when you wanted to help him build a bench, but he also encouraged you to take rest days when you simply wanted to observe. 

Franky was always on your side. No matter what you decided, he was going to agree. He was your biggest fan, always cheering you on. 

And as his strong arms wrapped around you, both of you holding the torch to weld two pieces of metal together, you realized the heat on your face wasn’t just from the flame. 

Franky pulled his welding helmet up. “So, do you like welding?”

You nodded. “I think I like you more, Franky.”

Franky’s mouth fell open in shock. For once, you had stunned him into silence. Only the hum of the generator buzzed in the air. 

The silence made you feel strange, and words began falling out of your mouth in an attempt to fill it. 

“You’re so kind and supportive to me and you always help me learn new things. You’ve been so amazing and patient these past few weeks and you’re always so encouraging and…I just…I like you a lot, Franky, and I was just thinking about how I wanted to tell you and then it just…came out.”

Franky was still staring at you, awestruck. “You can speak?” 

You covered your face. He was missing the whole point. Maybe he would forget the words you had actually said. 

He seemed to remember your words at that exact moment. “Me? You like me?”

A small smile creeped across your face. No backing down now. “Yes, I do.”

“Super!” His words made you laugh. “I’ve liked you for quite some time as well. Just didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Your smile finally widened, full and genuine. “You’re the place I feel most comfortable, Franky.”

He gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for an embrace. “And I will never stop being that for you, I swear it.”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #sanji x reader #sanji #sanji x y/n #portgas d ace #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #cyborg franky #franky x reader #cozage #✧˚sanji✧˚ #✧˚ace✧˚ #✧˚franky✧˚

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Warm Bodies

Astarion walks in on a gift you were secretly making for him.

Pairing: Astarion x GN Tav

Warnings: none really? Some fluff and teensy bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

Requested: yes

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I know nothing about making clothes so if something is super off...I apologize lol. I do not approve of my work being copied or shared without my permission.

REMINDER: my inbox is open for requests!

As you ripped the seam from the thick, cotton top you were working on, you whistled quietly and bit your lip. It was late, and you were exhausted, but you were also in a just one more thing... type of concentration, so you decided not to fight it and to continue working.

Buttons were scattered across your lap, hastily discarded from the two other shirts you had worked on earlier in the evening. They rattled around as you squinted your eyes, making sure your handy work was good as you went. It must have been late - maybe 1 or 2 AM - so you gave yourself the hard stop after you finished taking apart this garment.

"Darling, I noticed your lamp light is still on...what are you doing in here so late?" A melodic voice slipped into your tent as the tent flap gently opened and closed just as quickly. Gasping, you turned around and immediately tried to hide your project.

Astarion stood, a hand on his hip and a smirk playing on his lips. "Oooh...what is this, sweetheart?" He stepped closer, peering down on the pile of clothes in front of you. You frantically waved your arms, trying to cover as much as your project as you could.

"Nothing! Nothing, I promise. Just...something." You cleared your throat nervously and stood, the buttons on your lap clattering to the ground. Both you and Astarion watched the buttons fall, and stared at them on the ground. At the same time, both of your heads snapped up and he was smiling.

"I caught you doing something," Astarion said, matter-of-factly. "I caught you doing something...something secret? Which makes me want to know even more."

"No you have not. I'm just...mending some clothes. To see if Gale could use any of them for enchanting." Proud of yourself, you smirked back, crossing your arms. Astarion eyed you suspiciously then finally looked behind you at the pile.

"For an...enchantment?" He echoed, causing you to nod in agreement. "Then why does it look like you have 7,000 shirts back there?" He walked towards the pile, and after a quick examination, he picked up the shirt you were working on when he entered, "Gods, how many do you actually have? Is 75% of your Bag of Holding filled with pants?"

"I'm trying to help, and you're getting in the way! Go away!" You teased, pulling on his sleep shirt to get him to step back. He swatted you away gently and kept looking, gingerly picking pieces of clothes up. Once he started to unfurl the pile, knowledge dawned on him.

"...it's a blanket," He said simply, quietly. He started to spread the blanket out, holding it in his hands as if it was made of the world's most precious fabric, "It's beautiful. You did this?" He looked at you, his face unreadable.

You nodded, smiling at him. You stepped around him to investigate the unfinished work, "I had the idea at the Tiefling party to start, since you told me that night in camp you got cold with what you had. So I just...kept the clothes we all no longer needed and thought it would be a nice...surprise?" Suddenly embarrassed, you blushed and pursed your lips together, looking to the ground.

Astarion said nothing, but continued to rub the blanket between his fingers. The contrasting fabrics of the velvet cape and wool robe you stitched together made a soft rubbing noise as he moved his hand. You felt your heart speed up a tiny bit - Astarion was usually never quiet, so you didn't quite understand what was going on.

"...is that okay?" You finally asked, leaning down to his level. He swallowed and slowly looked at you, bringing the blanket to his chest.

"And it's for me?" He asked. You nodded again.

"Do you...like it? Is it...too much?" You sighed heavily and stared at the blanket again, "Gods, it's too much, yeah? I knew it would be. Just because you said you were cold doesn't mean that I needed to make you a blanket-"

"I love it." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. You stopped and looked at him, a smile erupting on your face.

"You do? You don't think it's....too much that I'm making this for you? You don't think I'm...weird?"

"Oh no, you're definitely weird," He said, gently putting the blanket back in its original spot, "I'm not negating that. But...you're also very kind," He looked at you and took your hand, standing you both up. For a moment, he held on to your hand before he hesitantly dropped it, "This is a wonderful gift. Thank you...I..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I have never been given a gift like this...at least, not in a long time. It means much more to me than you could know, that you did this for me."

You blushed, lacing your fingers between both of your own hands. "That...makes me glad. I'm glad you like it. It's not ready yet...a few more shirts should do the trick, though!" I gestured to the shirt I was working on earlier, "It'll be ready probably...in a few days? You'll definitely have it before we reach Baldur's Gate."

Astarion chuckled and nodded, "That is quite alright. Take all the time you need...I didn't expect a gift like this, so you are well within your right to take as much time as you want," Suddenly, he smiled, "Though I'm not an expert, I have made my fair shares of enhancements and such to clothing...the blanket is beautiful work. You should be proud."

You smile and shrug, searching his eyes. Very rarely do you ever get to see Astarion in a vulnerable mood, one where he doesn't mask himself with jokes and charm. You like it, and you feel special knowing that he doesn't have these types of conversations with everyone.

"Besides, it'll help Wyll get off my back whenever he rips his shirt or whatever," Astarion finally broke the air with a flick of the wrist, waxing annoyed about Wyll.

You laughed and rolled your eyes, allowing Astarion the safe space, but also allowing him to step back when it all got to be too much.

"Well...I'm glad you like it," You finally said, "I'll be happy to give it to you when it's finished. And I'm sure I'll also appreciate the extra space in my Bag of Holding."

Astarion bent down to pick up the scattered buttons, handing them off to you. He smirked and walked towards your tent entrance to leave. Suddenly he turned around and stared.

You looked up from the buttons and saw his face was soft, unusual. It almost seemed like Astarion didn't know what he was feeling, either. He waited a moment before he spoke.

"I meant it when I said I have never received a gift like this before. This means-" He stopped himself, swallowing audibly. He cleared his throat before he continued, "Well, this means a great deal to me, that you did this. You are a kind person..." His eyes were shimmering as he looked at you, leaving you a bit breathless.

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to forget your kindness," He finally said, "Thank you...again." All you could do was smile and nod. Was he crying?

Astarion undid the laces on your tent flaps quickly and exited, closing it tightly behind him. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and placing the buttons on your side table, you sat on your bed, looking at the blanket. You replayed the conversation with Astarion in your head, and you started to smile. How wonderful was it, that you could effect someone so greatly with just a simple, kind gesture? You started to fold the blanket and gather the materials, placing them in a more organized pile in the corner of your tent.

It was time to sleep now, and even though you were completely awake 20 minutes ago, you suddenly felt hazy and sleepy, like you were in a dream.

As you drifted off to sleep that night, Astarion lied awake in his own, staring at the ceiling of his tent. He smiled and felt his own, thin blanket on top of his body. This entire adventure, he was disappointed in his sleeping accessories - blanket in particular, nothing ever made him feel safe, or warm. Though he longed from something heartier and more luxurious, he would never admit it out loud.

And yet, you somehow knew that a new blanket was something he wanted...possibly, even needed. Soon, he wouldn't have to worry about his shivering waking him up in the middle of the night.

That night, Astarion fell asleep, and though he was sure it was just a trick of the mind, he felt warmer than he had in weeks.

------

Give it up for our favorite sassy tailor, Astarion everyone. I love Astarion fics where there isn't romance/sex involved...this man needs more FRIENDS.

REMINDER: My inbox is open for requests!

#astarion bg3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion headcanon #astarion fan fiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x you

[the-s1lly-corner]

craving some more fluff serotonin in life, can we please have some promts of kissing/first kiss with the TADC cast? (caine will be....something lmao)

Kissing hcs w/ TADC cast

gonna format this kind of like the hugging hcs post! also reminder that requests are still closed, i am answering requests that were sent before this morning! any requests sent after are going to be deleted due to me trying to clear my inbox; please hold onto your requests until i announce requests are open again! if in doubt refer to my bio!/nm/not targeted

CAINE:

this man would not be shy about giving you affection, he would kiss you as soon as he felt it was right and you were giving him the cues and all that. he understands that teeth arent ideal for kissing so similar to kinger (who i wrote first for this post) he gently presses himself into your mouth. weird feeling but hes careful not to bite you or get too harsh, i give him a 6/10

POMNI:

very short you might have to kneel or pick her up so she can reach you if you're taller than her.. very timid and awkward, quick peck on the lips. pomni does not know what she is doing!! who let her cook! 7/10 though, pomni as a whole is soft, its kind of like kissing a marshmallow... actually she kind of tastes like one too, weird... give her some time and she'll be more confident!

RAGATHA:

soft but not as soft as pomni, instead of kissing a marshmallow its like kissing one of your dolls... i think it depends on what kind of material ragatha would be made out of... assuming the digital world gives her textures and give and all that.. hmm...her mouth is odd, i personally hc that its just. 2D. like pomni has a proper mouth, you can see the depth of it. but ragathas mouth is like, stop motion... 7/10 simply because she probably holds you close and her hugs are amazing so it just adds to the experience

JAX:

similar to caine, i think! we never see jax actually.. open his mouth, its just teeth. personally i think thats just how his mouth is, he cant open his teeth. so... teeth kisses... though caine can actually open his mouth, jax just has. the wall of teeth... odd... kiss the teeth wall i promise he brushes his teeth/j i give him a 6/10, i think its something you have to get used to

KINGER:

i said it a few times but kinger would need to hype himself up before kissing you for the first time. or alternatively, if a tense moment just happened where say.. one of you guys almost got hurt (or as hurt as you can get in the digital world,) he would probably kiss you me thinks... no mouth how will he give kiss kiss :(? gently presses where his mouth would be to yours. hard and cold, 5/10 but he still tries to be gentle so its not like hes clacking himself against your teeth

ZOOBLE:

similar to kinger but also not because of how zoobles head is shaped... maybe you guys can assume the space between their eyes is where their mouth would hypothetically be. its like putting your mouth against those plastic foods.. cold, their head feels hollow like some of the plastic food toys.. not noticeable unless you press hard against them.. 4.5/10

GANGLE:

you see this one i can work with since i have already written characters with masks getting kisses! just kiss where her mouth is and you're golden! sure the mask is also her face and shes like ragatha in regard to the 2d mouth thing... but hey its better than zooble, i think! similar scoring, i think, 7/10 also i think she would put her hands on your cheeks while you two kiss

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

[ruewrote]

𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒.

PAIRING: carl grimes x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: angst and fluff SONG INSPIRATION: sarah by alex g WORD COUNT: 994

navigation | inbox

you were by carls side as he recovered from the gun shot, when he couldn't even sit up. when he'd yell at you to leave, to not look at him.

to not look at how hideous he is now. you thought nothing but the best of him always, a wound would not be changing that anytime soon.

you slept in a chair next to his bed in the infirmary, risking a sore body the next day but that didn't matter as long as you got to see him.

it was about time that he got relocated back over to the grimes residence, you were the first to jump up and offer assistance.

"ill help! i could bring his stuff back over and-" you were soon cut off by him, his nostrils flared, his teeth gritted, eye narrowed.

"oh my god will you please just shut up for five seconds, just go home. i don't need you here." his chest huffed out a sigh, turning away from you. his feet dangling off the edge of the bed.

biting your lip, blinking repeatedly trying to stop the tears from flowing. you nodded letting a wobbly okay. making your way over to the door giving him a last look over.

"i'm sorry that i bothered you, i hope you feel better soon." all you got in response was a scoff from across the room, that's when you took your leave.

sobs racked throughout your body as you ran over to your house, just wanting this day to be over as you flopped onto your bed and began thinking.

he had never spoken to you like that before, you just wanted to help. you just wanted him to heal. of course you did.

you went in circles for hours to think what would make him speak to you like that.

carl always had a soft spot for you. you had the unconditional you would die for each other sort of love.

everyone saw it as you used to walk hand in hand lightly swinging your arms as you leant into him as you strolled down the road to see judith.

now he was acting like he didn't even know you? it hurt more than words could explain, you just wanted your boyfriend back.

you eventually fell asleep with tears staining your cheeks.

you were determined to make him feel better, pounding a small rhythmic knock against the front door. letting out a deep breath, your frown replaced with a bright smile.

footsteps were heard, the door opened being met with rick with judith on his hip. she babbled and made grabby hands towards you.

plucking her off of rick, placing her on your hip instead. the three of you making your way further into the home. tickling judith as you did so.

"he's very delicate at the moment. he's far from the same, it might take a while for him to be back to normal, at this point i'm not even sure if he ever will be." your hand rested upon his shoulder giving it an reassuring squeeze letting him know that you could do this, you could look after him. not knowing if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

he looked hesitant as he took the small girl back from you explaining that he's leaving her with olivia and that he'd be back at the end of the day, closing the door behind him leaving the house empty and very quiet.

you made your way over to the kitchen deciding on making carl some soup, once you had finished cooking, putting the bowl and a glass of water on a tray, you tiptoed over to his room. silently opening the door, his back faced you as you placed the tray on his bedside table.

lightly shaking him as he stirred from his sleep he lightly grumbling then turned over. his face dropping when he saw it was you.

"i-i made you some soup and there's some water." you shrunk at the way he was staring at you, with what felt like hatred.

clearing his throat, pushing himself up by his elbows to look at you properly, "why are you here?"

"because believe it or not. i care about you carl."

that only led him to look away from you, nervously rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. scared to look back at you. "i don't understand why. i'm useless now, i'm ugly y/n don't you see that?"

your heart shattering at the horrible words he was spluttering at you, "none of that is true carl, it doesn't matter how you think you look, you're not ugly or useless. you're brave." gently holding his face in your hands, him refusing and trying to turn from you. but your hold on him was firm so he had no choice but to look at you.

"so so so brave, i can't even imagine how you must be feeling. i'm sorry this happened to you, you of all people do not deserve this. anything but this."

that's when the dam broke and he threw himself into your arms and cried, your hand stroking his hair as you held him. your hug soon turned into you cuddling, small sniffles were heard here and there as you whispered affirmations into his ear. he felt safe enough to fall into your arms that morning.

later that evening rick and judith arrived home, she had fallen asleep against him on the way back home. he was confused to come back and the house be completely quiet.

so after he had tucked his daughter in leaving a kiss on her forehead, he made his way over to carls room, making no noise as he opened the door. peeking over finding you peacefully cuddled together.

backing out of the room once again, closing the door with a small smile on his face, knowing his son was safe.

as long as he was with you.

© ruewrote.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes oneshots #carl grimes fanfics #twd #twd x reader #twd imagines #twd oneshots #twd fanfics #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead oneshots #the walking dead fanfics #x reader #imagines #oneshots #fanfics #ruewrote

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

I Know Places.

Synopsis - Jake always joked that he'd kill for you. One fateful day, he does just that.

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Female Reader (Callsign - Ivy) - Bonnie&Clyde inspired au

Warnings - cursing. very near SA. mentions of abuse/assault. mentions of blood, gunshots and violence. mentions of suicide. please, do not read if any of these warnings will affect you.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 3.1k

Author's Note - i'm not sure what happened, because this was really fluffy in my head. it ended up kind of dark, but i'm rolling with it. i like writing a different side of jake. just in time for halloween too. this was written for @laracrofted 1989TGM celebration!! <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You stand with your hand on my waistline

It's a scene, and we're out here in plain sight

I can hear them whisper as we pass by

It's a bad sign, bad sign

Jake's always had impeccable timing.

He'd tell you, later, that he sensed it. Just knew. Felt it in his gut, some sort of warning from the universe. He had to get to you.

The Admiral has you half bent over the desk in his office, fingers twisted into your underwear. He's trying to pull them down your legs when the door swings open.

You're paralysed, frozen with fear. The look on your face must tell Jake enough. He gets the message, understands your silent communication.

The Admiral stops. Backs away. As if putting distance between you will erase what he's been caught doing. Trying to do.

You expect Jake to yell, fight, throw The Admiral across the room by his collar. You expect blood, bruises, broken skin and bared teeth.

All you're met with is silence.

Jake strides across the room towards you. Fixes your clothes, smooths down your hair. Wipes the tears from your cheeks. He snakes a hand around your waist and guides you out of the door. Not a word said.

Something happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

"He'll ruin my career."

You're tucked into Jake's lap, legs slung over his hips as he holds you close. His rough fingertips run themselves up and down your spine, comforting and gentle. You inhale his musk, letting the familiarity fill your lungs.

"You didn't do anything wrong, baby."

"That won't matter."

The two of you are whispering, hushed voices bouncing off the furniture. You're alone together in Jake's living room. There's no one else around. You think he's scared he'll spook you. You're right.

"I worked so hard for this, Jake. I sacrificed everything to get into Top Gun."

"I know, baby."

"I can't lose it all."

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back from your eyes.

"What do you want to do? Report him?"

"Jake, you're not listening to me. He'll ruin my career."

"But he's the guilty one. Not you."

"Yeah, well. This is the way it works. Men can assault you and still play the victim."

You're frustrated, now. There's something bubbling, running through your veins. You can't put your finger on it. It feels like more than rage. Whatever it is, it's lethal.

You climb off Jake's lap and stand, pacing across the carpet.

"What am I supposed to do?" you murmur, tears threatening to spill.

Jake can't stand the wobble in your voice. It tightens something in his chest, pulls at his heartstrings. He was furious, before. He's just sad now.

"I'll do anything you ask," he tells you, standing up to cradle your face in his hands. "Anything in the world."

"I know."

And you do. That's what it's like, being with Jake. He loves so entirely, with his whole being. Every fibre of his heart belongs to you. It beats to the rhythm of your name.

"Just tell me what you wanna do, baby. I'm on your side. No matter what."

You lean up to kiss him, his lips soft and careful against yours.

"I'm not sure, yet. When I know, you'll know."

Jake sits back down on the couch, pulling you with him. You tuck yourself into his side, fitting there perfectly. He slings an arm around your waist and keeps you close, holding you a little tighter than usual.

Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes

And guns

They are the hunters, we are the foxes

And we run

"We should kill him."

You're strewn across Jake's chest, tangled in the sheets. Your limbs and hearts are intertwined, bodies drenched in sweat and lungs heaving.

"What?"

You sit up, pulling the comforter up and over your body slightly to combat the chill of the ocean breeze that's filtering through the open window.

"Let's kill him."

You look over to your boyfriend, waiting for the punchline. It never comes.

"Jake."

He turns to you, the most serious you've ever seen him. There's a look in his eye you've never seen before. It's dark. You're vaguely aware you should probably feel fear - but all you feel is anticipation.

"How many girls do you think he's done this to before you? How many will come after?"

You swallow, biting at your lips.

"He needs to be stopped, baby. You and I both know they won't fire him. He needs to be taken out of the equation altogether."

You realise, suddenly, that the thing you're worried about isn't the morality of the situation. It's the logistics. You don't want to get caught.

"Do you think we're smart enough to get away with murder?"

"Baby," he drawls, brushing his knuckles over your cheekbone. "We're a hell of a lot smarter than people give us credit for."

You know he's right. People underestimate both you and Jake. Everyone assumes he's nothing but a pretty face and toned muscles. That you're just his pilot girlfriend, seduced by his Southern charm and the fact that he's good in bed.

It seems like a challenge, now. You want to do this. You want to see if you can get away with it. You're already on the precipice of losing everything - why not go out with a bang?

"How would we do it?" you ask, leaning in closer to the blonde man next to you.

He thinks for a moment, running his fingers up and down your bare thighs.

"I say we make it look like a suicide. Shoot him in the head and frame it so it looks self inflicted."

You nod, processing.

"I think we should hold him at gunpoint first. Get him to write a confession, some sort of letter. That way, there's no confusion as to what happened."

"You're a genius," Jake grins, dipping down to kiss you.

He slips his tongue into your mouth effortlessly, sighing when he tastes himself from earlier. You straddle his waist and tangle your fingers into his hair, desperate to be close to him.

Both of you are high on adrenaline, buzzed on the anticipation of what's to come.

Baby, I know places we won't be found and

They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

'Cause I, I know places we can hide

I know places

I know places

Murder isn't as hard as you thought it'd be.

Careful planning. Airtight alibis. Reassurance and recon.

You and Jake have created the perfect crime.

The two of you show up to The Admiral's office on an evening you know he'll be working late. He's doing paperwork when you arrive.

You walk in first. Jake follows, and locks the door behind him.

The Admiral goes to speak, but you silence him with a handgun pointed at his chest.

"Speak, and you die."

He doesn't say another word.

Jake takes the gun from your hand and walks around the desk, pressing it into his superiors temple.

"We need a couple of things from you," he begins. "Just a favour or two."

The Admiral is sweating, pale and rigid. He looks scared. It sends a rush of adrenaline through you. You're enjoying this. Jake is too, judging by the beaming grin on his face.

"Grab a pen, and some paper. We're about to do some creative writing."

Jake orchestrates the letter. Gets him to write exactly what you need. Notes down the brutality, the arrogance, the abuse of power. He makes him recount every incident, not just yours. You're there for what feels like hours, as his shaky hands move the pen across the paper.

Finally, he finishes. Dots the I's and crosses the T's. Jake chuckles.

"Wonderful. And for the last part of this joyous evening were having together, my girlfriend is gonna shoot you."

The Admiral chokes on his breath. Looks to you with fear in his eyes. Finally, you think. He understands how it felt.

He goes to open his mouth, but you stop him.

"Don't beg. Don't plead. It's pathetic."

"We made up our mind weeks ago," Jake adds. "You're not going to deter us now."

You smile at your boyfriend, giddy over the way he's protecting you, saving you, loving you.

"I'm going to enjoy this," you whisper.

You take the gun from Jake and press it to The Admiral's temple. You know the silencer will muffle the noise - you really have thought of everything.

You click off the safety, and lean down so your mouth is next to his ear.

"This is for all of the women you hurt."

You pull the trigger.

He dies instantly.

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Not this time

In another life, you and Jake could have been actors.

You're all called into the briefing room the next day, gathered together in confusion.

Admiral Simpson stands in front of your class - pale as a sheet, dark circles bruised under his eyes.

"There's been a situation, and we want you to hear it from us," he begins. "I ask that you all keep this to yourselves, where possible. Don't talk to any media, don't gossip, don't spread rumours. Understood?"

When you all nod, he continues.

"The Admiral is dead."

The room goes silent. Jake's hand finds yours under the table. To anyone on the outside, it looks like a boyfriend supporting his girlfriend. To you, it's something different.

It feels like time stands still. The world stops turning, suspending you in the present moment. Eventually, Rooster speaks.

"What happened?"

Beau clears his throat, swiping his hand over his face.

"He took his own life."

There are whispers now, hushed and clipped. Everyone is in a state of shock and confusion. Everyone, except for you and the blonde man next to you. He squeezes your hand tightly, refusing to let go.

"Of course, there will be an investigation. But, it seems pretty obvious to us what happened. If anyone in this room has been effected by the actions of The Admiral that have come to light... please, speak to me, or any other of your superiors. Thank you. "

He exits the room, leaving all of you in palpable silence.

"What the fuck?" Payback mutters. "What did he mean, 'actions that have come to light?'"

"There's rumours," Phoenix begins. "He had a... soft spot, for young female pilots. People have been whispering about it for months."

Suddenly, all eyes are on you. You're the only other woman in the room besides Natasha, and she clearly wasn't involved.

"Did he ever... try anything with you, Ivy?"

"No," you're quick to answer. "No. Thank God."

The room breathes a collective sigh of relief.

If only they knew.

they take their shots, but we're bulletproof I know places

and you know for me, it's always you I know places

in the dead of night, your eyes so green I know places

and I know for you, it's always me I know places

A month later, you snap.

Jake comes home to find you frantically shoving clothes into a duffel bag, sweat dripping down your back.

"Baby," he tries, cautious, like he's approaching a spooked animal. "Baby."

You turn to face him with wild eyes, fear radiating off you.

"What's wrong, angel?"

You look at him incredulously.

"What's wrong? What's fucking wrong? We killed someone, Jake! That's what's wrong!"

"He wasn't a good guy."

"That doesn't matter. That doesn't make it right."

He cradles your face in his hands, eyes never leaving yours.

"Talk to me. What's going on? You've been okay. We've been okay. I thought we were processing, moving forward."

"I was. And then today, I just... can't. It was murder, Jake. Premeditated murder."

"Listen to me," he demands, tilting your chin up so your eyes are level. "He was an awful, awful man. The world is a better place without him. We saved so many women from a horrible fate, baby. We did a good thing."

You inhale carefully, and exhale a shaky breath, leaning up to press a kiss to his bitten lips.

"Yeah?" you ask, unsure. "We did save people, didn't we?"

"We wouldn't have done it without just reason, baby. We're good people, you and I. We both know we are."

You nod, looking for any signs of insecurity in his eyes. You don't find a single speck.

"You're right. Fuck, you're right. Sorry if I scared you, Jake."

"You scared me because I thought you were leaving me," he chuckles. "Wondered what I did wrong."

"Nothing," you're quick to reassure, tangling tracing your fingertips over the features of his face in a featherlight touch. "My God, Jake. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. You're it for me. You're my forever."

Jake leans down, pressing his lips to yours firmly and surely. It's as if he's telling you everything he feels without using any words. He pulls you into him, winding his arms around your back and tugging you closer.

"I've got you, baby. No matter what happens. It's me and you, always. I love you."

"I love you too, Seresin. Always."

They are the hunters, we are the foxes

And we run

Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it

My love

"Let's run away."

You're taking off your shoes by the door when Jake comes bounding down the stairs, buzzing with energy.

"Hmm?"

"Let's run away, baby. You and me. The open road. We can go anywhere we want."

"Jake," you laugh. "Are you drunk? What's happening?"

"Not drunk. My head's clearer than it has ever been. I've been thinking, while you were gone."

"Thinking about...?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss his rosy lips.

"Getting out of here. This place is full of bad memories and old ghosts. We can start afresh somewhere new."

"Like where?"

"Anywhere. Literally anywhere. We don't even have to stay in America. We could go to Europe, Australia, Canada? The possibilities are actually endless."

"What's triggered this?" you murmur. "You okay?"

"I'm always okay when I'm with you," he smiles. "But.... I can just feel it, you know? I can feel everything piling up. There's a weight on my shoulders, and on yours too. We can let that go. I know we can."

"You're right, about the weight. I haven't relaxed in months."

Jake slides his hands under your shirt, tracing his fingers up and down the bare skin of your back.

"I know," he murmurs against your lips. "I think there's something better out there for us."

"Where would we go? Like, serious talk, what are our options?"

"I know places," he winks.

"What places, Jake?" you try to chide, but you're smiling.

"We can go to my mom's, first, in Texas. Just to touch base. From there, I mean it when I say literally anywhere, baby. Wherever you wanna go, we can go. You've always wanted to go to Italy, right? We could go there. Or I have a high school friend in Perth - we could go there."

"I wanna go somewhere with good food. Kind people. Beautiful views. A little sunshine wouldn't hurt either."

He's grinning at you, white and blinding. His excitement is contagious, settling into your bones.

"Imagine it, baby. Me and you, on the beach all day. We could surf, swim, go grab some lunch, then surf and swim some more. Go home, make dinner, sit out in the yard and listen to the ocean waves. Do it all again the next day."

You can't wipe the smile off your face, practically bouncing on the soles of your feet.

"Okay."

Jake stops in his tracks, still and rigid.

"Really?"

"Really. We can go right now, Jake. I don't wanna be here any longer."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Fuck, I love you. Let's pack our shit and go, baby."

Jake kisses you with fervour, dipping you backwards like you're in a movie. You squeal, gripping the nape of his neck for balance. He picks you up and spins you around, twirling you like a fairytale.

"What about everyone here?" you ask, forehead pressed to Jake's.

"We'll miss them, and they'll miss us, but we'll all be okay."

He's right. These people are your family, but they'll understand. You have to do what's best for you.

"Do you really wanna go as soon as we can?"

"Yeah, Jake. I meant it. We can start packing right now."

He wraps his arms around your middle and carries you upstairs, throwing the closet doors open while you grab your suitcase.

Baby, I know places we won't be found and

They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

'Cause I, I know places we can hide

I know places

The sun beats down on your skin, warming you up from the outside in. There's a breeze whipping through your hair, carrying salt from the ocean into the car. The sunroof is down, allowing you to breathe in the fresh air.

Jake's hand slides across the centre console and onto your thigh, thumb rubbing circles into your bare skin.

"You okay?"

He's looking over at you, taking his eyes off the road for a split second.

"I'm good, baby."

He smiles, the grin reaching every feature of his face, lighting him up.

You've been on the road for months, stopping and starting however and whenever you please. A motel here, a beach apartment there. You've lost count of how many states you've travelled through, collecting postcards in each one.

You'll settle down, eventually. You've been making a list of your favourite places you've visited, ranking them as you go. You'll most likely buy a place in your top choice. But not yet.

For now, you're content with the open road. The convertible car, all your belongings in a suitcase in the trunk, roof down at every opportunity. You like not staying in one place for too long. It weirdly suits you.

Jake's never looked happier. He glows, smile lines creasing the corner of his eyes. He laughs so often, and you never get tired of the sound.

You glance down to the golden band on your left hand, smiling softly.

"What are you thinking about?" your husband asks, squeezing your thigh.

"Vegas," you beam. "Never did I think I'd be married by an Elvis impersonator in a bright blue chapel."

"I'm the epitome of class, baby. You know this."

Both of you are grinning, chuckling gently.

"We did the right thing. Leaving."

"Yeah, we did. I'm glad I believed what you said."

"What did I say?"

"That you knew places."

He traces a love heart on your skin with his thumb, over and over again.

"Told you, baby. I know places."

#1989TGM #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin #jake seresin smut #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x reader fluff #jake seresin x reader angst #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick fluff #top gun maverick #top gun maverick angst #top gun maverick smut #hangman fluff #hangman x reader #hangman smut #hangman angst

[ell-alexanderarnold]

hiii could you please to a dad!trent fic where his son/ daughter is in the academy and one day they get upset in training, then trent finds out that they are scared that they won’t be as good as him when they’re older so he re assures them? i love your fics btw :)

Our Starboy

Summary: As the request says :)

dad!Trent & Fluff

Note: I’ve had this request in my inbox since MAY😭 So here it is ta-da🤗

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Your son who usually looked rather happy when you come to pick him up from training now looked bothered. Just like his dad he’s not good at explaining his emotions when something’s wrong. But your mother instincts knew something was up.

“Hiya, how was training my boy?” You said and pecked his cheek as he entered the car, visibly disappointed.

Leo hummed in response and you took it as he was tired and not in a chatty mood. Until a few minutes later, he spoke up.

“When is Daddy coming home?” Leo asked.

“He should be home just before your bedtime.” You answered.

Trent has been away due International duty a few weeks. You thought you’d cope alright without him but then you find yourself laying awake at night, wishing he was next to you.

When you came home Leo went up to his room quickly, your attempt at trying to find out what was bothering him in car didn’t work. You could really use Trent’s help right now.

Right when you thought of Trent, you heard the front door open.

Trent searched the room for his two loved ones, only to find you. He walked towards you, no words, just the two of you in each other’s arms again.

“Oh my love, I’ve missed you so much Y/n.” He cooed and kissed your forehead.

“I’m glad you’re home again T, it’s been a bit lonely without you.” You said and smiled at him.

“Alright, where’s the kiddo?” Trent implored as he again scanned the room for his little one.

“In his room, he was not in the best mood earlier.” You explained as you watched Trent furrow his brows.

“What do you mean?” He wondered.

“I don’t know Trent. I tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, something might happened at the academy. Could you try talk to him?” You grumbled and sighed as Trent rubbed your back to calm you down.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll talk to him.” Trent comforted then made his ways up the stairs.

Trent knocked on his door and heard a ‘yes’ in a tired tone.

As Trent walked in he could see Leo watching highlights of Trent himself on YouTube. Leo watched closely how he crossed the ball, how he took a free kick and so on. And he immediately knew what was on Leo’s mind.

“Daddy!” Leo beamed and his face lit up as soon as he saw his daddy.

“Hey little man!” Trent chuckled and hugged his son.

“What’s up?” Trent began and Leo put his ipad aside, turning all his focus to Trent who was his role model. All Leo wanted was to be a footballer like his dad. He tries to copy every move the 66 does on the pitch.

“Daddy I’m scared.” Leo revealed and Trent looked at him in awe.

“Worried about what Leo?” Trent asked, wanting him to open up more so he can get the whole picture.

“That-“ Leo stuttered.

“Go on.” Trent soothed.

“That I might not make it through the academy.” Leo said and bursted into tears. Trent felt his heart break a little when he heard what his son said. He put his arm around his little shoulder and comforted him, he wanted nothing more for him to be okay.

“Shh, don’t you worry. I’ve been exactly in your shoes.” Trent stated and Leo looked up at his dad.

“Just focus on the now. The coaches know how good you are. I know how good you are, okay? You’ve got talent Leo, they see that.” Trent explained and watched as Leo’s eyes lit up with hope.

”And don’t be afraid to tell Mommy, she used to play footy back in the day. She will understand too.” Trent added and heard the door open, seeing you standing there admiring them both.

“Aw you two!” You whispered and tried not to get too emotional of seeing Trent and Leo together.

“Mommy I didn’t know you used to play football!” Leo said and giggled whilst you widened your eyes at Trent.

“Oh yeah I did, a long time ago.” You claimed and laughed, thinking about the memories when you and Trent used to play in his garden when you two were young lovers.

After finding out why Leo was upset you all three cuddled up together in yours and Trent’s room and watched a movie.

“You know what Leo, Daddy helps past academy players to not give up on their dream after being dropped.” You spoke up, mentioning The After Academy.

“So you’re in safe hands.” Trent chimed in. Neither of you and Trent was worried about Leo not making it professional because you both see the hard work he puts in everyday at such a young age.

A few days later

“Look at him Trent.” You whispered to Trent as you both stood watching Leo’s U6 match. Leo was absolutely brilliant, scoring two goals already in the first half.

“Our starboy.” Trent cooed and looked at you, smiling.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Thanks for reading ♡

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #dad!trent #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent x reader #footballer x reader #england x reader #football imagine #trent alexander arnold fic #trent alexander arnold one shot

[victoria-grimesss]

Hello! I was reading what you are okay with to write and I noticed that included angst and self harm? I know that's a heavy topic, but if you're still okay with that, could I request Gale and Astarion finding out their fem Tav (separate please) has self harm scars? I have my own and this game is currently my comfort. Thank you

masterlist

->Pairing: Gale x Fem!Tav, Astarion x Fem!Tav ->Warning: Trigger Warning for talk of self harm/suicidal thoughts. Please do not read if you are not comfortable with these topics. And if you ever are going through anything please reach out to someone, you matter and are loved :) My inbox is always open. ->A/N: Some game spoilers. I wanted to use both character's stories to really connect them to Tav. I hope this is something like you wanted!!

->Astarion:

He had been troubled since opening up to you about Cazador. You never did mention the scars on his back after your first night together but he saw your lingering stare. He wondered what you thought. He never really cared about what others thought about him until you. Others were always just pawns to be played, what could he gain from them? How could he get them back to Cazador easily? But you ruined his whole plan, he didn't like how mushy he felt around you. How his walls were coming down and he didn't know how to handle it. So he turned his back on you, becoming shorter and more distant. Trying to build the wall between you two back up.

--

Everyone was asleep by the time you had wrapped up your night and approached his tent. He was staring at the symbol on the ground, the marks on his back you had so kindly drawn into the dirt. The scowl on his face was evident.

"It's repulsive, isn't it?"

You cross your arms, sympathy blooming in your chest.

"I find no part of you repulsive Astarion. This being one of them."

You point to the ground. He scoffs, his eyes rolling before he huffs and sits before the marking.

"May I sit with you for a while?"

"I suppose."

You join him on the rug adorned right outside his tent, it's a tense silence. You're not quite sure what to say. Of how to approach this.

"We'll figure out what it means, I promise." You place a hand over his in a way to comfort him. He pulls back, if eyes could burn that dirt would be lit-aflame by now.

"And what good will figuring it out mean?! It will still be there, a reminder of all the torment and years Cazador had-has a hold on me.”

“Maybe it can give you some closure, we’ll figure out what it means and we’ll take down Cazador together.”

He laughs a bit, standing and looking down at you. “I do admire your ambition darling but I don’t think you know what you’re up against. And gods even if we did kill the bastard what then? It will still be there. Taunting me, reminding me of what those 200 years held.”

You chew your lip, somehow comforting people was the hardest battle you’ve encountered.

“Your scars are a reminder of how strong you are, of what you’ve gone through and survived. They don’t define you.”

By now he’s grown frustrated, trying to maintain his suave composure and demeanor.

“Right. And what would you know about scars hm? Did you have them forcibly carved upon you while all you could do was sit there and bear it?”

“I do.”

“Oh”

He’s surprised, he certainly didn’t mean to taunt you with those words, all those times he fed on you he never saw any scars. But to be fair you were quite elusive with exposing yourself.

You clear your thoughts and urge him to sit beside you again.

“I may not understand scars being forced upon me, but I inflicted them upon myself.”

Your eyes move to your sleeve where you roll it up, your scars being shown to him, your past on full display.

“Darling, I-”

“It is fine Astarion. These scars are just a part of me. Within the darkest part of my life, I carved them, hoping they could take my pain away. But I look at them now and I see a stronger version of myself. I lived through this dark time and it shows I am stronger than my haunted past. I want you to find your strength in yours. You are more than your past. I fell in love with the man before me for who he truly is.”

“Gods you truly do speak like those romance tomes don’t you.” He speaks through a sniffle that’s masked with a laugh.

“Well, this has turned into quite the sappy night.”

He laughs but his eyes are watery, as are yours.

"Plenty of adventuring to be done tomorrow, lets go to sleep yea?"

"Yea, lets. My sweet."

--

->Gale:

What a kind man.

He was always so honest and caring towards you.

It had been a long day, grueling and never-ending. Your thoughts just yearning for any kind of rest. You slowly make your way over to Gales's tent, he's propped up on some pillows inside reading as usual, candle-light flickering, painting the walls of the tent with shadows. His eyes light up seeing you there.

"Hello, my love what a pleasure seeing you tonight."

You smile and he pats the spot next to him, you oblige and lay next to him, his tent smells of old books and tea leaves. It's instantly soothing, you study him in the low light. How the veins from the orb move and weave around his chest, lightly dancing around his cheekbone.

"I can feel you staring." He looks at you from the side of his eyes, a smirk just barely there. You hum lightly,

"Just admiring you." He traces your eyes back to the orb, then refocuses on the book.

"Does it bother you, it being there forever?" You ask quietly.

He closes the book and sits up more, full focus on you.

"I mean, seeing how the route I plan to take will keep it there forever I have.. made my peace with it. Although your generosity with those magical items certainly makes it easier. I do owe you that much. Why do you ask darling?"

You grow quiet, nerves playing with you.

"I just, sometimes I wonder if I will grow comfortable with mine as you are with yours."

He seems to understand the gravity of your words.

"Oh Y/N."

He grasps your hand before placing a kiss on the back of it,

"I may not be able to make you comfortable with yourself or your scars but I assure you, you are everything one could want and more. I assure you I see the most beautiful woman in front of me and nothing in your past or present could ever change that."

Your free hand comes to cup his cheek, pressing your lips to the other one.

"Promise?"

"My lady, you have my word."

#bg3 x reader #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 headcanons #gale headcanons #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x reader #gale x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion headcanons #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 fic #astarion hc #baldurs gate gale #gale angst #astarion angst

[morwap]

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒

➸ ex!theo nott x fem!reader

➸ smut | muggle! au | college! au

➸ nav | tn.mlist | A/N: i know some of you love love love theo and when i write for him y’all eat it up every time so i thought i’d give y’all a surprise fic with theo since i know i’ve been lacking theo content and i’ve been much more into marauders and other fandoms, i still get so many and still have so many requests in my inbox for him so i knew y’all were trying to be fed with theo content! so surprise and i hope you enjoy <;3

➸ toxic on and off relationship, p in v, face sitting, dom theo sub reader, make up sex, hair pulling, love bombs, riding, finger sucking, hand behind back, tity sucking, little bitting, creampie, praise, “good girl

this happened over and over, you and theo fight then break up for a week then get back together. this time it lasted two weeks, the longest its ever been, maybe it was really over this time. you knew he was stubborn and took some days to himself before texting you or finding you somewhere but he didn’t take this long.

you waited for him to text and of course you could’ve texted first but you were overthinking it, why text if it was really over? you didn’t know how to feel, you felt like every other time with the voice in the back of your head saying “you'll be back together by tomorrow” but now you had a feeling in your gut that said something different.

you saw his dormmates on your way to your classes and they greeted you like normal which confused you even more. luna and cho told you that maybe this was for the better, you wouldn’t be under the stress of the fighting every week and focus on your school work and your job more than you already do.

it was the start of a new semester and luckily exams went by without causing too much stress. You wondered if the fighting recently on his end was because of the exams but he ended up passing with no struggle but you tried to understand.

Now it was the weekend, finally time off, you walked to your dorm and greeted people that wandered the hallways. luna had gone home for the weekend to see her dad so you had the dorm all to yourself.

you unlocked the door and pushed it open, kicking off your shoes and hanging your bag and coat on the coat rack on the door. you turned and was met with theo sitting on your bed, your string lights were still on since you didn’t turn them off when you left for your last class.

“hi” you mumbled, nervous that this was him saying goodbye. “How'd you get in here?” you asked.

“Luna let me in before she left, I needed to talk to you,” he said. You could see the flowers he bought on your nightstand. they were always done up pretty with brown paper and lace and ribbons tying them together. you nodded and walked closer to him.

theo took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing your skin softly.

“i'm sorry i didn't get ahold of you, i was just trying to figure out this whole thing because i really want this to work and i don’t know what's been going with us lately but i know it’s not healthy, padma gave me some advice and i really think it could help us” theo said. you nodded and sat next to him, still hand in hand.

theo continued to explain what Padma said and how it sounded like a good idea, he didn’t want to lose you and you didn’t want to lose him. you listened and gave your input every now and then and he listened to you, there was no fighting or snarky comments.

“thank you” you said when he was finished, you leaned closer to him and hugged him, his arms went around your waist and his face moved to your neck.

“i love you” he mumbled and you said it back.

you leaned back before leaning in and kissing him, there was tension already, you two had very high sex drives and had sex frequently and being apart and now together it just felt natural.

theo’s hands gripped you harshed and guided you closer. this was natural for you two, sex normally came after the understanding and apologies, the intimacy was the best part, a connection you hadn’t felt with anyone else.

you were in his lap, his hands unbuttoning your cardigan and moving it off you. you let it fall off your arms and onto the floor. you broke the kiss and moved off him and the bed, theo quickly took off his shirt and threw it to the floor then started working on his jeans while you stripped off your sweatpants. you kept your spaghetti strap shirt and underwear on.

theo kissed you again once he was just in his boxers, guiding you back onto him. He laid back and grabbed your hips. “cmon sit on my face” he said, breaking the kiss. you laughed softly and started to move up, you hovered over his face, one of his hands held your thigh and the other moved your panties to the side.

his tongue met your cunt, going over your clit, his hands now holding your hips to keep you where he wanted.

you closed your eyes and hummed, he was slow and easy at first then started to get a bit rough as he went, sucking on your clit then moving his tongue to your entrance and fucking you with it.

your hands gripped the headboard, one of his hands left your hip and took one of your hands that were gripping the board, intertwining yours and his fingers. He repeatedly licked your clit, making you moan and jolt with pleasure. you started to move your hips a bit, you were getting close which was fast but you hadn’t came in two weeks so who could blame you.

theo encouraged you with mumbles of “cum for me” and “cmon baby”

theo moaned against your cunt, his eyes were close as he pleased you, his other hands fingers dug into the skin on your thigh. his cock rubbed against his underwear, the stimulation making him leak precum.

one of your hands moved to his hair, bringing his face even closer as you frantically repeated that you were close, you tugged at his hair and it made him groan against you. you were so wet, his chin was covered with his spit and your arousal.

you felt it coming and you tightened your shut eyes, your breathing was picking up and the feel crashed down on you. you gripped his hair tighter.

once you were getting overstimulated he slowed his licks, you lifted up, pulling your cunt away from him, both of you panting.

theo kissed your thighs, he moved his hand to your cunt and pushed his middle finger in, earning a whine from you. theo’s ring finger joined.

“just wanna make sure you’re ready love” he said, a little smugness in his voice. after a minute he pulled his fingers from you.

you started to make your way back down to where you could straddle his waist. theo pushed his upper body up and kissed you, you could taste yourself on him. He broke the kiss and put his fingers in your mouth.

“you made the mess, now you clean it” he ordered, you sucked on his finger as he watched you with a smirk. theo pulled them from you when he thought they were clean enough.

“please, please fuck me, i want you so bad” you begged, you kissed his neck moved your hips a bit on his lap.

“how could i not give you what you want when you ask like that” theo said, his fingers taking your panties off, then you lifted up to get them fully off. your hands went to his boxers, pulling them down and letting his cock be free, no more friction from his boxers. you lifted up to move them then let them fall to the ground.

you moved over his cock, letting theo hold himself as you started to sink down onto it. he let out a relieved sigh once he was all the way in you.

you started to move, going up and down and sometimes grinding to get friction on your sensitive clit.

“holy fuck, you feel so fucking good,” theo grunted. his eyes closing for a moment and taking in the feeling.

“i missed you, miss you so much” you mumbled, moving your head to his neck, kissing his skin then sucking hickeys on him.

“i missed you too baby, it won’t happen again” he said promisingly.

theo took your hands and put them behind your back, one hand held yours there. you leaned away from his neck, his hand pushed the top of your shirt down and let your tits fall out of your shirt.

he moved his head down a bit, kissing your tit and biting softly, he moved to your nipple, sucking on and kissing the bud.

you moaned and your mouth made an ‘o’ shape, he groaned against you as your cunt tightened around him.

you whined when he bit you softly making him laugh. he left your tits alone now and leaned up and kissed you. theo was getting close now.

“i love you” he said, moving his kissed to your jaw then down your neck til he was resting his head a little on your shoulder and your face was nuzzled against his neck. his hand moved to your hip, making you go faster and harder. you clenched around him more.

“i love you too” you moaned. theo moaned and his abdomen flexed as he got closer and closer.

“im gonna cum-“ he started.

“- in me, please cum in me” you begged, you moved your fingers to hold on to his pinky finger.

“anything for you” he quipped, after a few thrusts he was cumming inside you, his cock twitched as your cunt squeezed him over and over. he shuddered against you, still moving you on his cock, he was getting overstimulated already but he wanted you to cum on his cock.

theo’s hand moved from your hip to your clit and started rubbing in circles, you breathed heavily as you were getting close. it felt so good having him take care of you again.

“m’gonna cum” you whimpered, theo’s cum was dripping from you and running down his cock to his balls.

“good girl, cum on my cock, you deserve it. you’ve so good, princess” theo whispered encouragingly.

he pressed a kiss against your head as you clenched around him tighter. he inhaled sharply, he was sensitive.

you let out soft noises as you came, cunt spasming around him and shivering against your boyfriend.

you both stayed there, theo let go of your hands and rubbed them to soothe any soreness. the mixture of your arousal, cum and his cum still dripped from you. you both rested against each other.

clean up was essential and couldn’t wait till the next morning or be fixed by a simple cloth or tissue. you showered together, the pillow talk followed from in there till you laid on clean sheets and cuddled. you had cleaned up the mess of clothes while he did the bed, your pajamas were thin since he would be in your bed keeping you warm.

you both fell asleep fast, faster than how you did when he was not with you.

luna came back to the dorm that morning, she knew she’d see theo, and at this point she thought about making a bingo card about you two, and she was right, there he was basically on top of you. you faced the wall with one hand pressed to your chest while theos arm was over you and his chest was half way pressed to your back, luna had no idea how you could sleep like that with him basically smothering you.

she sighed, it was cute in a way but even though she wasn’t the biggest fan of your relationship she knew she had to do something about your breakup with him and asked padma to talk to theo since she was going there to be a therapist and specifically a couples therapist. now she knew it worked but not like she had any doubt in the plan in the first place.

#theo nott x y/n #theo nott x reader smut #theo nott x reader #theo nott #golden trio era smut #golden trio era x reader #golden trio era #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo x reader #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott x reader smut #sub reader #dom theo nott #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #hp fandom fanfics

[byunpum]

Ghost girl | part 4

Pairing: Neteyam x Albino na'vi!fem x Sully family

Warning: All the characters are aged up 20’s, discrimination, soft & crush moments.

Note: Hello!!! I hope you like this part <3, one question: do you like the parts to be long or short?. I would like to know what you all think. BTW… I'll keep answering requests. I have a lot of them in my inbox, so please be patient.

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5(final)

"Hey, are you okay?" asks neteyam. You were still holding her waist, looking out over the pandora jungle view. You were lost in thought. You feel a tap on your thigh, and all your attention is back on neteyam. Laying your face on his shoulder so you can hear him better. "Yeah…I'm fine. I'm just surprised…about the human" you speak. Neteyam knew it was a surprise for you to see a human. The trip back to camp was quick, neteyam helped you off the ikran. You walk closer to the ikran, stroking his face. "Thank you" you thank the creature. Neteyam approaches you, curious.

"Why do you do that?" asks neteyam, he was somewhat curious. He could tell that you felt differently. The connection the omaticayas had with their creatures was very different. Your connection was much deeper and unique. As if you could understand each creature. "hmmm?" your ears perk up cautiously.

"That thing you do about feeling…I can't explain it. But I can see that you don't need to do bonding to be able to understand the creatures, how do you do that?" speaks neteyam. You laugh a little, turning away from the creature.

"I don't know…I just feel it. It's a kind of feeling" you try to explain. You step in front of neteyam. "May I?" you raise your hand. The man says nothing and nods his head. You move closer and place your palm on his chest. Closing your eyes for a moment, neteyam moves his hand to now place it on yours. you open your eyes with a surprised shock. Making eye contact with him, the two of you stand for a moment in silence. It was a comfortable silence. You lower your head and chuckle to yourself. "I like spending time with you too…neteyam" you speak.

Neteyam is surprised, how could you know that. "I…do" neteyam tries to put his words together. At that moment, jake's voice is heard calling neteyam, as he approaches. "Neteyam son!" speaks Jake, approaching the young men. Your hand was still on neteyam's chest, and he was holding you tightly to his chest. Jake remains silent, giving neteyam a look. He gently removes your hand from his chest. "Neteyam…I need you to help me with a few things, of course, if that's okay?" says Jake, raising an eyebrow as he gives a playful glance at the two of you. Neteyam still holding your hand, you carefully walk away.

"Y/N, do you know how to get to the hut?" asks neteyam. You smile, touching his arm. "Yeah sure…thanks for taking me for a ride" you thank him, and start walking towards the hut. But you take one last look at neteyam, who is still looking at you next to his father. His tail was wagging back and forth excitedly. And he started waving his hand, to say goodbye to you. You say goodbye too.

Jake watches the scene that was playing out before his eyes. Laughing a little to himself, touching his son's shoulder. Who was still watching you walk away from his sight. "Teyam…come on son" speaks jake, neteyam turns his gaze and ascends with a little embarrassment. "yes dad…come on" jake starts to guide his son towards the storage room. He needed help with some simple things, like setting up the storage they had in the camp. Neteyam looked more distracted than other days, as if he was thinking about something else.

Jake noticed this change in attitude. His son was on cloud nine, moving some boxes around, but he was chuckling to himself. And he seemed in a good mood. He had never seen his oldest son like this before, neteyam used to be quite reserved with his emotions. So he thought it was adorable to see him like this. He approached his son, sitting on one of the boxes. "teyam…is something wrong?" asked jake. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it come out of his son's mouth. Neteyam starts to get nervous, putting the box down. "No…. everything is fine sir" says neteyam, he couldn't fool jake.

"You like Y/N, don't you?" jake drops the bomb, watching neteyam stand up straighter. Trying to answer but gets stuttering. Trying to look for a right answer.

"Well…she's…very pretty," says neteyam, now sitting down next to his father. Jake crosses his arm over his son's shoulders. "Neteyam son" jake starts to speak, but neteyam interrupts him.

"Father…I know I barely know her, but I feel like I belong with her. Like something else brings us together" neteyam says, jake can see how his son explains everything with that passion, and hope. "I feel like I know her from somewhere else" neteyam looks at his father.

Jake is just listening to his son, lifting his shoulders, who was he to judge his son. He had fallen in love with neytiri in such a short time, feeling the same way his son now felt. "teyam…I will only give you one advice, try to get to know the girl better. We know where she comes from, but we don't know what she will bring behind her?" says Jake, Neteyam raises his ears in surprise, but he knew that his father was right, he had to get to know you better.

From that moment on neteyam made it his mission to get to know you better. He wanted to know more about you. What was your life like before? What was your favorite thing? Etc. Getting closer to you, sharing more with you and your son. This was very noticed by the whole family, Neteyam started to do his chores faster, just to get to the family hut and spend time with you. After Jake told Neytiri everything, she would try to bring the two of you together. Leaving you two alone, or telling neteyam how cute you two look together.

Neteyam would start teaching you how to live in the clan, and helping you overcome your fear of humans. Day by day the two of you grew closer, it was so natural. It seemed like destiny, no one dared to question your relationship. Least of all you, whatever was happening you knew it would eventually happen. The moment you placed your hand on neteyam's chest, you could see some of the moments that were going to happen and that you are experiencing right now. So you decided to trust and relax in your predictions.

Time passed rather quickly for your taste, it had already been 2 months since you had arrived at the omaticaya clan. And you finally had your own hut. Neytiri had looked for a place where you could be more comfortable with your baby. Jake helped her build it, while she prepared it inside. You couldn't have been more grateful to her. To Neytiri you had become like another daughter to her, plus…she knew the connection her oldest son had with you.

You had gotten up earlier than usual. You wanted to go to the river to take a bath, you and your baby. And since you were still new to the clan, your appearance used to be strange to everyone. Every time you came to bathe in the river, the na'vi who were there would look at you funny and they would start coming out of the water. So you started going earlier. Preparing everything in a basket, you can hear your now 4 month old baby make a noise, which sounds more like a giggle. You look up, to see neteyam in the frame of the hut, "Good morning" says neteyam, in a soft tone of voice. As he approaches the baby, picking him up from the ground, to rest him on his arm. "And good morning to you" says neteyam, giving the baby a kiss on the cheek. You watch as a laugh escapes your son's lips, laying his head on neteyam's shoulder. "Someone here is very spoiled" you joke, picking yourself up off the floor. While holding your basket.

"I don't blame him" says neteyam, giving you a look. "Mmm are you going to the river?" asks neteyam, it was a very obvious question, but he wanted to ask anyway. "Yes, someone here needs a good bath" you walk over to your baby, sniffing your baby. Neteyam does the same, and makes a disappointed face. "I don't think so…" says neteyam, watching as you move closer to his neck and sniff him as well. "You need a good bath too" you speak up, neteyam blushes a little, giggling nervously. "Do you want to join us?" you ask him shyly. "Sure" says neteyam. You give him a smile, finishing setting up some things you needed. Like some special oils, which mo'at had prepared for you. "Do I really smell that bad?" neteyam tries to smell himself, while listening to you laugh as you start to leave the hut.

The three of you quickly arrived at the river, while you set up your basket somewhere on the rocks. While neteyam was already in the water, as he was holding herwin. You sit on one of the rocks, watching your son laugh and play in the water. Neteyam was so good with your baby, he treated him as if he were his own son. Caring for him and treating him with so much love.

"Hey come here you two" you call, neteyam comes out of the water. Playing with the baby in the air, while your baby's giggles are heard throughout the jungle. Neteyam sits in front of you. Sitting the baby on your lap. You pick up a pot, which contained the oil. "And that?" asks neteyam, neteyam watches as you take it in your hands. As you begin to put it on your baby's skin. "It's an oil, for our skin. You know the sun here, it affects us a lot" you speak, placing more oil on your baby's skin. Neteyam only replies with a very quiet sounding "hmm".

You take some more oil, and put some on Neteyam's nose. "Here…you're a little burned" you speak. "Yeah?" says neteyam playfully, moving closer to you. You laugh, and continue to put oil on his face, very carefully. "Then you wait a while and then you can get wet" you are silent for a moment, noticing how neteyam was very close to you. Almost centimeters from your face, his eyes closed, enjoying your touch. You carefully approach and give him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. Neteyam's eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't pull away from you. "Your nose is very pretty" you speak, watching his tail wag excitedly behind him. "Your nose is also very pretty" neteyam leans on his hands, speaking forward to now give you a quick kiss on your nose. You twitch a little, but laugh.

Netayam feels your baby touch his chest. Looking down "Oh…you too" neteyam bends a little to give herwin a kiss on the hair. Neteyam had gotten so close to you, that he was crushing the baby a little on your chest. "I'm sorry sir" says neteyam, offering his hands for the baby to come closer to him. Neteyam takes the baby, to help you. While you continue to put oil on the baby's skin.

At that moment, a group of Na'vi arrive. They were young like you, and Neteyam could see how nervous you had become. Lowering your gaze to your feet, trying to ignore the uncomfortable looks and some out-of-place comments this group was making. "I know somewhere more private…if you want to go there" speaks neteyam, You really wanted to leave. This was one of the reasons why you avoided going to this river. But you couldn't go anywhere anymore, you tell neteyam not to worry and continue taking care of your baby.

After cleaning your baby, neteyam played with him for a while. Trying to show him how to swim, according to neteyam it was normal for Na'vi babies to start swimming at an early age. At least, that he knew the basics. You decide not to enter the river, you felt quite uncomfortable. Your appearance and your physique was something to talk about for the new clan. Even your white skin, white hair etc, was a curiosity to most of the clan. Neteyam steps out of the river, moving a bit to drain the water from his body. "hey…watch out" you complain, as a few drops fell on your face. "Sorry babe" neteyam laughs, moving the baby as well. As the baby laughed again, you were happy to see him so healthy and happy. Just as neteyam was giving you the baby in your arms, he heard some laughter from the group that was looking at them curiously. The son of the clan leader, the great warrior neteyam… involved with a na'vi as strange as you.

"Do you want to go back?" neteyam asks you, you nod. Neteyam takes the basket, and walks with you. But first he gives a glance to the group, looking at them with a bad face. All of them changed their look and tried to dissimulate. You were back at the camp, you were keeping silent as you walked. Your baby had fallen asleep in your arms. "Y/n…" neteyam begins to speak, placing his hand on the back of your neck, gently. "just ignore those idiots," neteyam says.

"I don't blame them…we are weird" you speak, looking at your son and then at neteyam. Neteyam walks over to you, wrapping his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. "If that is so…my whole family is a bunch of weird ones" neteyam jokes, hearing you laugh at his comment. Feeling your body move closer to his body.It felt good, having you this close.

When you arrived at the camp, both of you noticed how the crowd that was in the camp. It seemed to be circling around someone, you could hear some screams. From what you could make understand, they were cries of protest. Neteyam stretches out his arm, creating a barrier. For some na'vi were still running into the crowd, pushing each other. "What's going on?" you look at neteyam with concern. "I don't know," says neteyam, looking around. Trying to look for his father, neteyam can notice that his father is already in the center of the crowd. Neteyam takes your hand, and pulls you to him. You approach carefully, what would be so disturbing to the clan. When you are close, your ears perk up with surprise and speed.

You couldn't believe it, you just heard some familiar voices. You couldn't believe it, it couldn't be possible. You freeze in place, neteyam stops dead in his tracks. Looking at you and approaching you. "Are you okay?" he asks you.

One of your hands runs to your mouth, your eyes started to fill with tears you just heard the voices of your father and brother. You thought they were dead, you couldn't believe it. You hand the baby over to neteyam, and walk quickly towards the center of the crowd. When you finally entered the circle, everything was clear. There they were… two figures that looked just like you. The only thing that differentiated them from you was that they were massive figures. Compared to the Omaticayan men, the men of your clan were bigger and more intimidating.

They looked somewhat upset, waving their hands angrily. You can see how jake tries to calm them down, thanks to eywa that jake was a pretty calm man. Because your father was quite the opposite. "Sir… why don't you calm down and explain to me what you need?" speaks jake, trying to control the two men. You stand there in silence, until your older brother notices your presence. And suddenly there is silence. Your brother punches your father in the arm, to make him stop arguing. "What's wrong with you, don't you dare" your father started to yell, but shut up when he saw your presence.

You run into your father's arms hugging him tightly, feeling your brother join in the hug. "Honey…you're alive!!!! You're alive!" your father speaks through tears. As he hugged you tighter, holding you so that you would never leave his arms. " Dad!!!brother" you cry, you couldn't believe it. They were here with you. At that, Jake moved away a little, leaving more space. Neytiri had arrived at the disturbance, coming towards neteyam. He was standing next to his father holding the baby to his chest. "What's going on?" asked neytiri, the woman was confused. "They are Y/N's family" says Jake.

Your father turns away from you, checking to make sure you were okay. "y/n how did you get here?" your father is confused. You wipe away some tears. "I'm fine, we're fine" you say.

"Is it true…and my grandson?" asks your father. You move away a little, and look back for neteyam in the crowd. You see that he is not far behind you, and you approach him. Crossing your arm, with neteyam's arm. "Dad…they saved my life. They are good" you speak, you wanted him to know the people who had saved you and taken care of you and your son all this time. But the happiness you had on your face was gone for a moment, when you saw your father's angry and disgusted face.

He could not believe his eyes, his daughter chosen to carry on the family lineage. Next to an omaticaya, why yes… your closeness, your attitude and even your scent. Everything indicated that the relationship you two had was much more than just friendship. You squeezed neteyam's arm, and the man could feel the same fear he felt when you were at the river.

Teyam babygurls: symptoms-of-moonlight , tru-blubelle, mashiromochi, ducks118, @butterfly-ibuki, @innercreationflower, @ok-boke, @lovelyygirl8, @sandaltoesocks, @he110hon, @inlovewithpandora, @sussybaka10, @mommyneytiri, @daughterofjakesully, @symptoms-of-moonlight @ilostmyaccounf @archer-fb @he110hon @kenzi-woycehoski @emery-333 @smoiesaustine @a--lyara-main-account

If there is any problem with the tags, let me know and I will try to fix it as quickly as possible. tag list is open, just let me know *3*//

#avatar the way of water #avatar x y/n #avatar 2022 #avatar x reader #avatar x you #human reader #female y/n #neteyam imagine #neteyam #neteyam oneshot #human y/n #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x reader #atwow #avatar twow #atwow neteyam #neteyam x na'vi albino #neteyam x albino!fem #neteyam x fem reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam series #neteyam smut #sully family #neytiri x you #neytiri #neytiri x reader #kiri sully #avatar 2 #neytiri imagine

[adventuringblind]

hi!! could you possibly to a max x reader where the reader is mostly blind ( like the one with charles) because of a major traumatic incident when she was a kid and it starts off with max hating her and vice versa but then they fall in love, if she’s best friends with lando, alex and yuki that would be great too! (maybe max got jealous over something and that’s why he hates her?)

thank you!!💕

Passenger Side

Max Verstappen x reader

Genre: The beginning is a little sad and angsty, but the rest is fluff

Request: yes! I had fun writing this one because the reader is kind of sassy. I'm open for Charles, Max, Daniel, Lando, Oscar, and George.

Summary: Max hated her. Couldn't stand seeing her hanging off the guys in the paddock. Until he finds out the truth and it changes his entire perspective

Warnings: car accident, injury descriptions, Max is oblivious, Jos and his behaviors are mentioned

Notes: Third-person perspective. Please remember that blindness is a spectrum and can happen for many reasons. I am blind myself. If anyone has any questions and would like to know more, my inbox is open :)

Masterlist

If he was truly honest with himself, he couldn't come up with a legitimate reason for hating her.

She's kind, smart, gorgeous, and her smile lights up the room. Yet every time he was around her, he couldn't muster up any sort of courage to talk to her.

She was always hanging around Lando, Charles, Alex, and George. The four had almost dragged him to hang out with her, but he couldn't do it.

She was always hanging off their arms. It seemed to be flirtatious to him. Maybe that's what annoyed him.

She's clumsy, touchy, and never goes anywhere on her own. Was he jealous? Probably. But he wasn't about to admit that to anyone.

She seemed to run into things far too often for it to be a coincidence. Maybe it was her way it flirting. If that's the, he was better of staying away. He'd never been one to find that attractive.

She wears sunglasses almost every time he sees her. Unless they’re inside in a darker space.

He didn't understand her, and yet he constantly felt intrigued to know more.

It was an off day in the summer. Max and Lando were doing some sim racing together when the topic of the girl came up.

"I see you make eyes at her all the time. Would it kill you to say hi?"

Max nearly winced. Grateful this wasn't a stream or his strange infatuation and simultaneous dislike if this girl would be found out. "She's just so strange." Was all he could come up with on the spot.

The Brit laughed at him. "Strange? How so? Explain to me how she is stranger then you."

"She runs into everything constantly."

Lando only laughed harder.

"She's always clinging onto someone's arm."

His laughing was irritating him now.

"and she always wears those stupid sunglasses- Why are you laughing so hard?!" Max shouted into his headset.

Lando could hardly breathe. He was laughing so hard. His mouth is not able to form coherent words.

"Mate!- she's blind!" He finally managed, trying to get air back into his lungs.

"She's what?"

"She can't see. Well, she can a little bit, but barely anything really."

Max's entire facade fell apart right before him. Like a tarp being pulled out from underneath his mental walls.

Every reason he found not to like her is because she's blind.

Lando took pity on Max. Obviously, he's clueless. Now is his chance to be the best wingman Max never asked for.

~

The next GP was too hectic for Max. Mostly because he was finding every reason to avoid Lando. The boy finding it neccecary to make him meet her.

Max felt like a ninja. Marketing though he'd been replaced. Christian was confused at why Max kept hiding behind the cars. His PR manager was convinced he'd contracted a virus. Everyone was confused.

Lando, on the other hand, was not. He knew exactly what was going on.

"I don't understand why we're by the redbull garage." She asked him. The female holding his bicep loosely to let him effectively guide her.

"We're waiting for Max. I have something for him." Little she know it was her.

"And you felt the need to drag me all the way over here for this? Yuki was showing off somthing he cooked." She exaggerated a frown.

"Relax, you'll get to eat his food again."

"I may not be able to see very well, but I can hear your eye roll." Then the two started giggling.

Max had popped around the corner to see the two distracted. He decided to risk getting into his driver room. Darting speedily around the objects.

"Max!" Lando's voice made Max freeze. Grimacing at the thought of having to deal with whatever Lando was planning.

He made his way over to the pair. "What brings you over?" He tried to ask cheerily, but it came out more broken than anything.

He felt nervous. But why?

"I'm delivering a note from Daniel." Lando's cheeky smile did not go unnoticed by the Dutch. His hands dramatically search his pockets. "Damn, I think it fell out while I was changing."

Lando taps the arm of the girl holding onto him. "Are you okay waiting with Max while I go and get it?"

She nodded her head and smiled understandingly at her friend. Lando stands directly in front of Max, removes her hand from his arm, and places it on Max's.

"I'll be right back!" He yells while jogging back the direction of the McLaren paddock.

"Sorry about this. I understand if you're busy. You can point me in the direction of the nearest fence, and I'm sure I'll manage just fine." She smiled again reassuringly. She sensed his unease the moment her hand made sontact with him and his muscles tensed.

"No, it's alright, I was just going to hide somewhere." He confessed.

"Understandable. People tend to be nosy." They were walking now. Max is trying to get her out of the middle of the walkway. Trying and sort of failing.

He could hear her feet tapping the ground at each step. Humming every occasionally to herself.

"I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Max."

"You can ask if you want."

Max was taken off guard by the question. So much so that he almost ran himself into the approaching wall. "Ask you about what."

She laughed and put a hand on the cold metal of the garage. Now facing Max without him having help her. His confusion about her growing g steadily. "About my eyes."

She was still wearing her sunglasses. Despite the overcast weather. He wanted to see her eyes. He read people through their eyes. It's how he could tell what kind of mood his dad was in.

Then it hit him. That's why he'd hated her. He couldn't read her because he couldn't see her eyes. In a way, he was blind to how she was feeling and reacting to things.

"Can I see your eyes?" It was almost a whisper. His tapping his things in anxiousness.

"It's kind gross, but sure." She slowly removed the glassed and lifted her head upwards. His gaze memorizing eyes aspect he could.

One of her eyes was glassed over by a mix of yellow and red. The pupil is a shade of cream white. The other was clear aside from the pupil looking mildly foggy.

She didn't tell him the story that day. Mainly because Lando had come running back, a piece of paper clutched in his hands. "I'm back!" They heard him yell in the distance.

"Let me take you on a date." The words fell out faster than his brain could prosccess what he was saying.

"Sure."

~

Max still laughed at himself for falling for Lando's master plan. Though he kept the blank piece of paper in his pocket as a reminder of what his friend did to get him here.

The two had been on a handfull of now. It was fun exploring different areas with her on his arm.

The boys who had been guiding her for years now made sure he was properly trained. Three of them were getting protective of their visually compromised friend, unlike Lando, who was squealing about how cute they looked every chance he got.

Now it was winter break. Max had invited her to stay with him in Monaco. An invitation she graciously accepted.

She'd yet to tell him about her story. The traumatic and sudden loss of her vision.

Max had only asked once. When she told him it was hard to talk about, he respected that she would tell him in her own time.

That time was coming sooner than she planned.

Max wasn't able to get her from the airport. But Alex had been on his way to spend time with Lando, so he'd offered to be her traveling partner.

It had gone well. The plane ride was smooth. The night traffic made the car ride easy.

When the light turned green at the intersection, the last thing either was expecting was to be t-boned by a drunk driver.

~

Max thought she wasn't coming. He'd tried texting her but received no response. Even Alex wasn't picking up the phone.

She'd texted him that she was safe on the ground and would be there soon. That was three hours ago.

He was starting to worry. Panic even.

So he did the next logical move and called Lando. Praying that his friend had heard something.

It didn't take long for him to answer the phone. "I was just about to call you." Max hadn't heard Lando's voice quite so frantic in a while.

"What going on?"

"There was an accident. They're both at the hospital."

~

Max was driving as fast a caution would let him. He agreed he'd meet Lando there. Both of them hoping to see their friends safe and breathing.

Lando was waiting for him out front. He didn't want to face either of them alone. Unsure the correct way to act in this situation.

The next thing they knew, a nurse was leading them back to where their friends were.

Alex was upright and attentive. Stitches lined a few places on his face. doctors are doing a few tests to make sure there's no internal damage.

Y/N was unconscious, but the moniter tracking her heart was beeping steadily.

Max was at her side instantly. Assessing the damage he could see. The nurse followed him in. Getting a few vitals from the sleeping figure.

"She has a concussion and a few broken ribs, but she'll be fine." The nurse smiled reassuringly at him.

"Why's she unconscious then?" He'd finally gotten to understand her. He didn't want to lose that yet.

"Every time she woke up, she started panicking and hyperventilating. The doctors felt it best to put her under and let her rest." Then the nurse left him alone woth her.

Later, Max, Lando, and Alex were discussing it. Alex had been discharged and could leave whenever he wanted, but the three felt the need to stay until she woke up.

"The truck hit the passenger side of our car. That's probably why she was panicking." Alex pointed at making Lando nod in agreement.

Max's confusion was visible on his face. "Wait, has she not told you?" Asked Lando."

"Told me what?"

"How she lost her vision."

~

The two boys had refused to tell Max the story. Claiming it wasn't their place. Max respected that, but he was growing more and more curious.

Lando and Alex had left him an hour ago. Alex was exhausted and in need of a new shirt. The one he was wearing now stained with the excess blood from his head wounds.

When she woke up, the heart moniter started to beep faster. Alerting Max that something was wrong.

He gently grabbed her hand and placed it on his arm. Leaning over the bed so he could talk quietly.

It was odd how her hand on his arm had become a comfort for him. He wasn't sure if it was for hers, but he was panicking and needed to do something before she could hyperventilate again.

"It's okay, you're safe now." He soothes. His free hand now stroking the top of her head.

Her breathing calmed down at hearing his voice. "Is Alex okay?" She rasped. Her throat dry from her previous panicked shouts.

"Yeah, he went with Lando. He texted, saying he was safe at his apartment."

It was quiet for a moment before he heard her sigh. "I need to tell you what happened."

Max just shook his head to show he was listening. Grimacing at the horrific details she recounted to him.

There had been a massive crash. Six cars were involved. Her family had been innocent. Yet they suffered the most.

Their family car had landed on its side. Two cars landing on top of it. One crushed the front with the impact, killing both her parents. The other landed over the top of her. Oil leaked out from the bottom of the car, finding its way through broken glass of her mirror. The strong, smelling liquid getting in her eyes.

She screamed, trying to wipe it away as it burned her. Only to push it farther in and make it worse. She had been on the passenger side that day. Waiting thirty minutes for them to get her out safely.

She woke up alone in the hospital. Her parents and vision both gone.

Lando and her hand been friends. So she went to stay with their family. His parents let her into their home like she was their own.

When the car crashed into the passenger side, she was transported back into that moment.

Now she's here, with Max, his voice pulling her into a sense of security.

~

It didn't take long for her to be discharged after that. Max sent a quick message they the two were back at his apartment.

Max Verstappen embraced the girl he once hated. His lack of understanding eating away at his pride. But he understood now.

"I'm sorry about everything you've had to go through. I can't change the past, but I can be here for you in the future." He leaned his forehead against hers. The innocent affection communicating everything.

He knew how she was feeling through other signals. When blotchy tears rolled down her cheeks, he could feel every emotion rolling through her body. Finally able to get closure on what had happened so long ago.

"I love you, even if you can hardly see me, I love you."

#x reader #fanficion #f1 fic #formula one #max verstappen #racing #formula 1 #lando norris #super max #max verstappen is a protector #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max #verstappen #blind!reader #redbull #redbull racing #red bull racing #red bull formula 1 #driver #formula racing #max verstappen f1 #f1 #lando norris f1 #alex albon #car crash #angst #vision loss #redbull f1

[boydepartment]

can i request a comfort fic? i jus got bodyshamed cuz like im kinda skinny and im not in the best mood. Ni-Ki from enhypen pls :((

cold- nishimura riki x reader

a/n: usually i am not this specific with comfort fics however, i have experience going through this and i can write this properly. since i know how this feels first hand i can write this confidently. with comfort fics i really try my hardest to bring comfort and sometimes specific scenarios like this can get a little sticky. i really hope this helps you and i hope you’re okay. ive been body shamed many times throughout my life for being too big and too small, so i understand. lmk if you need anything anon my inbox is always open to you <3

warnings- angst to comfort, reader being body shamed, talk about difficultly to gain weight, talk about mental health, riki being kind. skinny reader.

wc- 300-500

MASTERLIST

your body laid curled up in your blankets, and tangled in your layered clothing. it was colder weather and to everyone else doing this would be pretty standard practice given the circumstances.

regardless of that fact, your main reason to bundle up was not due to the cold.

you were always cold, that was something you could put up with.

what you couldn’t put up with was the sly comments people would make about you unprovoked. even if provoked the comments that were made about you previously were extremely messed up and damaging.

you felt yourself sigh, you knew it was okay to be sensitive to this, it was human. but it really did hurt, there was no reason for anyone to comment on anyone’s body for ANY reason. however people thought they could with you. your friends thought they could with you.

you flipped over not hearing your boyfriend arrive at your home, he was supposed to come over today but you had texted him to cancel because you ‘weren’t feeling well.’ anymore. you didn’t think he would be coming over.

“you cold my love?” you heard a chuckle and you just hummed back. not in the mood for his games. and not in the mood to even become startled that he was in your home.

“i’m sorry were you asleep?” riki’s voice was soft as he walked over to the couch and laid down next to you. your body tensed up and he noticed this.

it made him scared he did something wrong.

“are you okay?” he asked, wanting to put his hand on your head and gently pat. but opting not to, not wanting to make you more uncomfortable than what he was reading from your face.

“i texted you saying i wasn’t feeling well…” you mumbled behind your blanket.

riki frowned, “i’m sorry… do you want or need anything? i didn’t see my texts otherwise i would’ve stopped by and picked you up something warm to drink.” you felt him get under the blanket, you felt yourself become nervous.

quickly you flipped over, your back facing him and you curled up a bit. taking some of the blanket with you.

he went to snake his hands around your waist as he was used to do but you panicked and moved his hands away, “don’t, please…”

the comments about you being too thin were getting to you and you didn’t want riki to even touch your body. the fear setting in that he was going to feel a rough edge or a part of your body where you were more bony than not. you were scared it was going to disgust him or freak him out. your friends were hard to believe that your boyfriend genuinely liked holding you. you could still hear their comments.

riki felt his mouth open a bit in shock, “did i do something?”

this hurt you more, he didn’t do anything, you felt like you did something wrong.

“no… i just- i don’t feel well.” your voice was wavering and it was making you stressed, if you even thought to rub your eyes you’d have to see your hands. you didn’t want to see any part of your body right now. you felt trapped, almost like you wanted to rip your skin off and just start over.

“what’s wrong… y/n please… communication is really important especially since we’re young… i don’t want to fuck this up please…” at this point riki was begging you to say something. he was stressed that he did something to you that he didn’t mean. riki couldn’t recall anything that he did. i mean he accidentally ripped your favorite pillow while you two were play fighting last week but you were laughing when the stuffing started going everywhere.

you flipped over, not wanting to torture him, “you didn’t do anything. i just went back to visit some friends and they made comments about my body.” your voice was shaky, almost panicking. because this is where a lot of people would say-

‘you’re thin why would it matter?’

‘people wish they had your body.’

‘you should be thankful that’s what they’re saying.’

you had experience of people saying that to you when you felt insecure of the bonier parts of your body. you learned quickly to suck it up, but it still hurt. and you constantly tried to gain weight. it was a difficult battle, you want to do it healthily however it’s a slow process that’s not even promised.

you couldn’t help your body and it was too taboo to share your insecurities. that’s what you learned that’s what you became accustomed to. it stung even more that people commented on your body now even without you saying something first. you felt violated.

riki felt his brows contort, he was rightfully pissed, “what were they saying?” he tried to find your hands under the blanket and did. for the first time in awhile, they were warm. you let him hold a small part of you and that relaxed him.

“i don’t want to talk about it anymore…” you mumbled more into the blanket, scared of what he was going to say. scared that if you opened up more, he’d try to hold you. that he was going to hate holding you, or finding it a chore.

“no one should be making comments on your body like that. whatever they said- clearly it effected you… and no one has the right to comment on your body. was what they were saying unprompted?” his voice was soft but firm. wanting to listen to what happened. wanting to comfort you properly.

“yes… it was unprompted and i froze up… i didn’t know how to respond to what they were saying.”

because genuinely how the fuck were you supposed to respond?

riki breathed in angrily, he was trying to properly calculate the situation and how to answer. he didn’t want to mess up or accidentally say something that could hurt you more, “i would take a break from them for a bit… maybe if you’re comfortable communicate how-“

“NO.” you practically jumped up, “they’re just going to tell me i shouldn’t be complaining and they’re totally gonna blow me off like my feelings don’t matter!”

riki’s eyes widened as he watched you settle back down, his hand rubbing yours gently, like you’d break, “okay my love… then you don’t have to… then i would just give myself a break from them okay? i’m not trying to sound like i’m isolating you either but you know your feelings matter to me. you matter to me. i will always listen…”

you nodded, he felt his heart breaking a bit when he saw a tear fall from your face. riki quickly used one of his hands to wipe your tears. you put your face more into his palm.

“when you hold me… does it bother you?” your voice was quiet, “like do i hurt you or do you feel uncomfortable?”

what the fuck did they say to you? that was the only thing that was going through riki’s head but he was smart enough to pick out the hints and signs. that was enough for him.

your friends must’ve pointed out how thin you are, he remembered you trying to gain weight and struggling to. he remembered that specific mental breakdown you had and felt so mad that your friends would just say things without thinking.

“you never bother me…” carefully he finally pulled you closer to him and held you, “my favorite thing to do is be around you and hold you… that’s not going to change okay? no matter what.”

you nodded, “i’m sorry… i didn’t mean to shut you out i was just scared… and i didn’t want you to think i was weird for getting upset about this.”

riki shook his head no, “don’t be scared to talk to me especially about stuff like this, i understand everything okay? so please don’t be scared. i know how it feels and im always going to be here to help you.”

“thank you…” you held him closer to you, riki’s hand going to your head and patting softly. his embrace was warm and you were comfortably wrapped in the blankets together. the cold weather long forgotten, the cold, harsh words that were said to you were slowly being healed, and you were starting to feel content. riki felt you relax and finally relaxed himself. he was always going to be here to help, because he loves you. those cold words people said to you weren’t going to change anything, whether you told him the specific words or not.

he loves you.

“i love you… thank you again…” your breathing was starting to slow, you were starting to fall asleep now that the war in your head was starting to die down.

“i love you more…”

#enhypen #kpop #enha #enhypen imagines #enha imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #nishimura riki scenarios #enhypen nishimura riki #nishimura niki imagines #nishimura riki x reader #nishimura riki imagines #nishimura niki x reader #nishimura riki icons #nishimura niki #riki nishimura #nishimura riki #riki nishimura x reader #niki nishimura #enha comfort #enhypen comfort #nishimura riki comfort #nishimura riki fluff #nishimura riki angst #niki enhypen #enhypen niki #niki imagines #enha niki #niki x reader #niki icons

[bakubunny]

a/n: my inbox & dms are always open. 🖤

tw: husband!kiri, f!reader, disordered eating (no specific foods or numbers), relapse, anxiety, negative self talk

your stomach turned at his question.

“ready to make dinner, cutie?” eijiro said from the next room.

cooking dinner together was part of your routine when both of you were home.

eijiro had learned, being with you, that you liked to be meticulous with your food. most things had to be cooked or done in a certain way. there were tasks that you asked him to handle when the anxiety became too much. some days he’d let you push him out of the kitchen and do it all yourself to maintain a sense of control, and other days when you’d allow it, he did the same to you when he could see the panic in your eyes. he was okay with that because it meant he could take care of you.

you’d learned, being with him, that he was far too perceptive for his own good. he never let you treat yourself poorly if he could help it, never missed a change of habit. some days that felt like too much; he was a pro hero with enough on his plate. why couldn’t he let you handle this on your own?…

you knew why. he hated feeling helpless, especially when it came to you. but it still made you feel more like a burden than a loving partner.

“i’m not hungry. we can eat separately, if you want?” you said.

a lie.

eijiro knew there was a fifty-fifty shot if it was true. he walked into the living room where you were reading a book and sat next to you.

his eyes held concern. “babe, is everything alright?”

not really. but you were too tired to talk.

“yeah, why?” you didn’t look up from the page. maybe if -

“this is the third night in a row,” eijiro said quietly.

silence.

“i’m worried about you.”

you met his pained, crimson gaze. he did have reason to worry, at least this time.

it always started with skipping lunch when work got stressful. when your clothes didn’t fit right. when your stomach was too chubby or your thighs too big. then it was breakfast, when eijiro was asleep or already gone. then dumping last night’s dinner in the trash the next day when you said you’d eat it for lunch, opting for anything that didn’t make you panic, if you could stomach it.

when you needed a sense of something you could control, this was it. you could count numbers. you could watch them change. manipulate them until you felt some kind of relief. it was never happiness, but at least the fog of hunger made thoughts slow down. you could feel the way it affected your body, even if it didn’t feel good.

and that was all something. better than nothing.

“i’m okay, ei. really. my stomach hurts, that’s all,” you replied with a smile. which was true.

“do you need to see a doctor?” he asked. “you haven’t had breakfast in at least two weeks. don’t think i haven’t noticed just because i’m not here.”

a pang in your chest. this is why you insisted on doing the grocery shopping yourself. it took twice as long to go by yourself, but you didn’t care. it allowed you to hide. the last few weeks, you had to hand the list off to your husband. but he was thorough, always double checking.

“you know i keep food at work. and-”

his voice raised slightly. “that doesn’t mean you’re eating. you’re losing weight.”

a lump burned in your throat.

how is that a bad thing? what’s wrong with something that made me feel better? i’m too chubby anyways. it’s disgusting. i’m disgusting. why does he care?

you knew why it was wrong. had seen the effects of how habits like yours could rapidly destroy bodies. and eijiro knew that, too. but lately, that didn’t matter.

“please don’t push,” you said softly.

“no, i will push. i won’t sit here and watch you hurt the person i love. i can’t-” eijiro’s voice cracked. tears spilled down his cheeks. “i can’t do it. do you understand that?”

you fidgeted with the edge of a page as tears filled your own. “yes.”

“then will you come to the kitchen or let me make you something?” he pleaded. “we can have whatever you want. fuck our dinner plan, i’ll make you anything. i’ll let you cook if that helps, i don’t care. just… please?”

your mind wanted to argue. you don’t understand, you’d say. but it was unbearable to see eijiro like this. you set your book aside and wrapped your arms around him. he pulled you into a tight embrace as tears fell.

“i love you, eijiro,” you whispered.

he kissed the side of your head. “i love you. i love you so much. more than you could ever know.”

#not really edited so ignore if it kinda sucks pls #this is self insert bullshit don’t mind me #i need an outlet #and this is it #hits a little too close to home #it’s a little too real #ok bye #disordered eating reader #tw disordered eating #bnha #mha #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijiro #kirishima x reader #x reader #f!reader #bakubunny

[platrom]

One Last Chance.

Midoriya x F! Reader, Bakugou x F! Reader (partially/eventually)

WORD COUNT: 20.7k words

NOTE: Here is the ending to OLT. What do you all think? Please leave me some comments!!

If you guys would like to see side stories to this or have some questions, please send some asks! My inbox is always open. And if you have any other story ideas, please request as well.

TW: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, flashback scenes, hospital setting, mentions of prior and current injuries, death, talk about perceptions of death, mentions of suicide attempt/suicide, fluff, therapy, Bakugou has undergone therapy, childhood best friends, toxic friendships, unrequited love, happy ending, the voice leaves, a new voice appears (is personified), reader has a panic attack in a fancy restaurant, reader and Shoto are friends, Bakugou has genuine friends, the reader is loved, kind of ambiguous parts in the ending (must read first part to understand it), reader confronts Midoriya, reader kisses Bakugou

THIS STORY MUST BE READ WITH THE FIRST PART— IT IS NOT A STAND ALONE.

PART 1 / PART 2 (HERE)/IMPORTANT ASK

BAKUGOU OBSERVED your shaken figure as it faded into the distance, head hung low and fists clenched in agony. When you first pulled away from him and continued onward, your feet tapped lightly against every slab of concrete you trekked on, until after a few yards your brisk walk bursted into a hurried sprint. Nobody nor anything was spared a second glance as you fled from his presence.

Candidly, he couldn’t blame you. Bakugou had overstepped your boundaries and attempted to plow through the brick walls you had built around yourself for the sake of your welfare. He understood how you felt and how overwhelming such an invasion of privacy was, notably with his straightforward approach. Bakugou was notorious for diving headfirst into situations, but that didn’t mean it was invariably appropriate.

For instance, now.

Howbeit, he didn’t know what else to do. Bakugou may have gone through years of therapy and anger management courses (thanks to that spiky-haired idiot), but that didn’t mean he knew how to confront everyone about their personal endeavors.

Tackling his own issues differed from helping others address theirs. He had friends, family, and a therapist to talk him through his problems and conjure solutions with. Even his fellow colleagues wouldn’t mind lending a comforting shoulder for Bakugou to lean on; the people around him had read countless books on how to support loved ones who were struggling.

Bakugou had a support system that took years to discover, expand, and wholeheartedly trust. With thousands of hours of therapy under his belt, he was blessed with tools to aid him in the gloomiest and sunniest of days, with or without his therapist by his side.

In comparison, you were not armed with the same lessons and techniques as he was.

Not yet, at least.

Bakugou wanted to change that.

For all of his years of friendship with you, he analyzed your growth and development as a person: how you went from an adorable and frivolous child who was insouciant to the prying eyes of others into a beauteous, percipient young lady who shied away from any unforgiving glares. He remembered how decades ago you, him, and Deku would tussle around in your childhood playground’s decrepit sandbox playing Heroes.

Bakugou had invented the game when you and Deku had been laying against one of the thick blue poles that held up a patent yellow slide incised by impetuous teenagers that lurked around the park at the perturbing time of midnight. To his dismay, despite being in front of you both, none of you batted an eyelash at him. He wasn’t even aware of what you two were discussing, but all he cognized was that the ongoing chatter between you and the freckled nerd was irritating him and he wanted your attention instanter.

Looking back, Bakugou could admit that it was an impulsive suggestion and injudicious decision. In contrast to what any other sensible child or person would have done, as soon as the words ‘Let’s play heroes, Deku and (Name)!’ escaped Bakugou’s lips, the green-haired idiot accepted the request instantly, so eager to please Katsuki. On the other hand, you simply watched in silence as Bakugou beamed in pride with his hands on his hips and Deku enthusiastically pumped his arms in the air, jumping and squealing in both anticipation and delight.

Years after, Bakugou eventually understood why you sat quietly that day and made no move to even consider rejecting the idea. Exactly like Midoriya, you shadowed Bakugou’s footsteps and obliged to his every whim. Yet, unlike Deku, you didn’t quite concur with his exclamations even inside your head and heart. Cleverly, you chose to keep your mouth shut and follow in step because it caused you less trouble than if you voiced your opinion.

That didn’t exactly mean you always emulated that similar action and thought process. There were at times you spoke against Bakugou when you knew you would be reprimanded the least or experience little to no consequences.

Bakugou couldn’t deny that he didn’t enjoy those quirks of yours: your fight, your spunk— your tactical and logical thinking. They all were your qualities that Bakugou internally commended you for.

As children, whenever you three played Heroes, Bakugou forced you to take the role of the damsel in distress. Due to your bestowed position as a distressed maiden, the ash blond referred to you as “Princess” often, both during and outside the game. With every fictional mission the two boys conjured, they intended to save you from villains (which happened to be figurines of heroes with a small piece of dark cloth draped over it).

When Bakugou wanted to impress you (and spite the green-haired bastard), after he and the nerd rescued you, he would hoist you off your feet and carry you bridal style, your head tucked into the crook of his neck. Boastfully and vaingloriously, he would exclaim to the other boy with a smug grin, “This is how a real princess should be treated, Deku!”

The young boy would stare in awe, analyzing how Bakugou kept a firm grip on you and refused to let you take a step on your own, despite your occasional protests.

And the times when a small giggle would be heard near Katsuki’s chest, widened vermillion eyes would snap to your face and watch as you grinned up at him, eyes sparkling, glowing, and filled with adoration. Your ridiculously sweet and unfaltering smile never failed to make his chest puff out in pride, cheeks warm in fluster, and heart pound faster.

Katsuki craved to see that expression on your face again.

He yearned to be the one who flipped your entire world upside down and set you anew. Like a festering disease, that ardent desire plagued his heart. It urged Bakugou to be the hero in your life and pillar of strength- the one you were able to lean on for stability when your walls of welfare began to crumble and crash.

When you were merely arm’s reach away, at times in that freckled-dork’s arms, an unremitting voice rung remorselessly in his ears, imploring for him to pull you into his chest and conceal you from the world, to cradle your supple face between his callused palms and tenderly stroke your cheek in hopes his actions could describe an ounce of his perennial love for you. The vexatious voice begged Bakugou to press his lips against yours to convey all the unspoken emotions he could not fathom formulating into lucid and complete sentences.

Katsuki wanted all of the pieces of you: brain, body, and soul.

In bed, during the hours of dusk until dawn, Bakugou’s mind conjured vivid imaginations of a domestic life with you. In many of the scenarios, Katsuki would already be at home in the spacious kitchen, preparing dinner for you both before you returned after a strenuous day at work. Whatever meal he was cooking didn’t matter; you would love his cooking anyway.

He would be so absorbed with cooking that he wouldn’t hear the sound of the door lock clicking open, or the rustling of your clothes as you stripped off your coat. Your lethargic steps would fall on deaf ears as you snuck behind Katsuki, the corner of your lips curling in satisfaction and glee at the aromatic fragrance wafting throughout the house and at the sight of him cooking, no less in the apron you had gifted him for Christmas at the start of his hero career. The apron was black and had the words “THE BOMB” splayed across his chest in thick, white cursive.

Without hesitation, you would pounce onto Bakugou and smush your face into his back, wrapping your arms around his waist. He would quietly hum as you sighed and relaxed into his cozy warmth, mumbling a word of greeting.

After, small bits of chatter would be exchanged between you two until your voices died down and a comforting silence would permeate your shared home.

Eventually, when Bakugou would feel your eyelashes flutter shut as you fruitlessly essayed to stay awake and on your toes, he would lightly smack the top of your head with a wooden spoon and chide you to get your oil-stained arms off his apron and shower before he finished dinner.

The dopey grin that would spread across your adorable face would leave butterflies flittering in his stomach and blood rushing to the tips of his ears. When you noticed his bashful expression, you would raise your calves and wrap your arms around Bakugou’s neck to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, before escaping his clutches as he processed your actions.

Irritatingly, he would wave a wooden spoon in the air menacingly at your retreating figure, screaming, “You shitty woman, if you’re going to kiss me, do it properly!”

Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man; he knew that just as well as anybody else. All of his life, he took everything he could and prospered with whatever resources he had. Everything he did was done in his favor, to his advantage. The cost of his actions and behavior was never significant to him. Even presently, as a hero, he didn‘t bat an eye to his brash language on television or crass attitude. He never spared a second thought about what he did or was going to do.

Until now, when your life, your fate, was placed directly into the palm of his destructive, blood-shedding hands.

If he pursued the direction of which you ran and found you, what would happen to the two of you? To him? To you?

What were the rewards and the risks? Would possibly risking your life be worth it? If push came to shove and you threatened your life, could he save you?

His quirk wasn’t built for the typical rescue training; Bakugou was trained to ward off villains and allow the official rescue heroes do their work. He could handle the battle— the blood, the deafening blasts and shards of glass and slabs of concrete that would fly at him, the blazing ache in his muscles, the adrenaline from fighting and the reality of his eventual, impeding death.

Yet, he wasn’t created to dive into the murky and freezing cold water of the ocean and pull civilians from the bottom. Bakugou Katsuki, Dynamight, wasn’t the one who was meant to lift fissured buildings off of civilians to allow them to escape.

Of course, Bakugou could blow things up. Though, was it really the smartest for him to possibly detonate an already ticking time bomb?

Perhaps, he wasn’t the man for this rescue. But there was somebody else who he knew was.

Bakugou whipped out his phone, scrolling past hundreds of unobtrusive contacts, most lacking a personalized profile picture. Swipe after swipe, blurs of gray passed his vision before his eyes caught the name of a man he would never willingly speak to, not even for work.

You were an exception.

Always and forever.

Tapping the telephone icon with hasty fingers, Katsuki lifted the device up to his ear and began to trace your footsteps.

In his wildest dreams, never did he picture himself dialing one of his biggest rivals over a girl he loved for decades— over a girl they loved for decades— since as long as he could remember.

A confused voice answered on the other end. “Kacchan?”

“Deku,” Bakugou sighed, teeth gritting and fists clenched.

Hopefully, the world would reward him for not being selfish this once.

“I need your damn help.”

For the first time.

Contrary to popular belief, there were countless disparate ideas and thoughts of what death was like. For numerous individuals, it was foreseen as a riveting and transfixing experience. On the other hand, many voiced death to be an ongoing horror that terrorized them in the back of their minds. The twisted thoughts would trickle past the cracks of the mind, seeping into the limelight of their thoughts.

Certainly, there were opinions that fell between the lines and even strayed far from the common and classic perceptions of such an inevitable fate all would face.

Though, you had a rather specific conclusion about death.

Your declaration was that it was quite dull; banal even, considering everything to your vision (more so lack of it) was pitch black, akin to as if you had your eyelids shut— just permanently.

To be fair, you were dead. What did you expect? No one wanted to see the eyes of a rotting corpse, so it made sense that they would shut them.

You prayed your body was being prepared for your funeral. If they even found it, deep down below the surface of the ocean’s beguiling, glossy droplets of liquid transparency that lured innocent strangers to explore what was another’s liquid death.

Your death would also explain why you were frozen like a corpse. Your mouth remained clamp shut, your limbs stayed in place no matter how much you fruitlessly shrieked at your brain to move the lifeless limbs, and every inch of your body felt stone cold despite that if you were alive, warm blood would be flowing through your veins to keep you functioning.

However, there was one minor issue that made you question your predicament and if you were truly dead— you could still hear. What you were able to hear in the oblivion of black that surrounded you was debatable, but it vaguely reminded you of muffled chatter, similar to if cotton stuffed your ears.

Perhaps, if you focused enough you could distinguish the words, possibly even the syllables in hopes of discovering whether or not you had truly met death face-to-face.

All you had to do was listen- stay silent. Just like a dead person. You were dead. You could do just that with ease.

So, you let your conscious fade into the abyss of surrounding black, let the hold you had on the remnants of your soul slide lower and lower, the tight grip of your finger slipping so only the tips of them could reach the sole part of you that held you inside your body— your prison. You let the comfort of your humanity rest and the blaring silence of death deafen your ears.

Unexpectedly, the small, high-pitched voice of a child is what you hear first whose words die at the end of their sentence.

“If you need help, you can just ask for it.”

You want to ask who they are and what they’re talking about, and you try— you pull your dangling humanity closer and repeat the questions like a mantra until you’re screaming them, but they never exit your throat.

When your soul slips from your fingers again, the child remains quiet. Light footsteps begin to echo in the abyss of darkness, faintly reminding you of the days you used to spend in your room listening to rain splattering against your window, the atoms of hydrogen and oxygen splitting as they made contact with the clear surface.

This all seems like a sick, cruel joke from the universe.

Was this the voice messing with you?

Was the voice that haunted you still here with you, even in the after life?

But it didn’t sound the same.

That ominous voice in your head was your own voice. It had the exact same pitch, the same quirky pronunciations you had, even down to the accent. Possibly at first, it had been the voice of others and the words that were spat at you were theirs.

To begin, they were theirs; their crude thoughts, their deleterious words, their abhorrent statements and opinions.

Not yours, not at all.

Those noxious words laced with the deadliest of poisonous toxins gradually infiltrated your mind, the traces of their presence faint. As time passed, the once small stains became vast and covered the expanse of your once kind thoughts, turning each present one bitterer from the last. Once upon a time, the voice in your head was the voice of others.

Until it became yours.

In contrast, the speaker in the pit of eternal darkness had a voice of a naive young girl whose heart was just as pure and innocent as it was when the day she was born. It was filled with glee and utmost care, one that most lost to their greed for coin and success. Genuine people— those who constantly gave back and assisted others out of the goodness of their heart had long gone extinct, or were an endangered species. Those who got ahold of these rare beings either sunk their canines into their flesh for a finishing blow or kept them safe under their thumb, a primordial part of them vocalizing their need to keep someone so precious in the safety of their arms.

The girl moved closer to you.

“The attempt to escape pain is what creates more pain. At least, that’s what my parents tell me.”

That voice . . . It was once yours. The little girl who was speaking to you was you, or the shell of who you once were.

Although the memories of your childhood had lost their precision of detail overtime and existence as the years trudged by, you had always considered them the apex of the years you spent alive. The naivety of being a child and the blanket of being sheltered protected you from the corruption of the real world was a sensation you missed dearly.

“Instead of trying to avoid your troubles and problems, they say to resolve them so nobody gets hurt anymore!”

Your recollection of this particular encounter as a child was not the most prominent, as the once vivid and animated details of that day slowly evanesced from your brain with time.

The interaction had occurred nearly two decades ago in the commonly favored season of saccharine spring in Japan, when the sun’s rays gently kissed your skin and the soft gusts of wind weaved through your hair and brushed it back. You were there solely because the mothers in the city of Musutafu always met up during the spring to gossip about their husbands and children and revel in the scenery of blossoming Sakura flowers that swayed gingerly in the wind from their delicate stems that connected to the branches.

It hadn’t been the first time your mother had dragged you to an event like this with the enticing promise that you would be able to make new friends; that had been the deal-breaker for you. Hence, it had led you to the park funded by the richest of the local heroes and civilians.

The place could only be described in one word: perfect. Gossip from the mothers of the town declared it was kept in pristine condition by countless gardeners who would sweat over every blade of grass they sliced. The shrubbery was luscious, vibrant, and full of life. One would say it was just as youthful as the children that roamed every acre of the greenery.

The mothers had stationed themself near the entrance of the park, where the benches that were bolted into the ground to set down the dishes, snacks, and desserts they brought for everyone to snack on. Further in was the actual playground, which contained the children of the many attending mothers.

After kindly asking your mother for permission to go to the playground by yourself, you waltzed your way over.

That was where the interaction began.

You weren’t sure how you even noticed this peculiar person— nothing about them stood out. Not their hair, not their eyes, not their face.

Absolutely nothing differentiated from the rest.

That much you remembered.

Maybe it was a stroke of luck that brought you to them, that fate decided to pull your strings together and wrap a knot around you both for a moment.

They had been sobbing uncontrollably, their arms hugging their knees and small hiccups of desperate gulps of fresh air had reached your unsuspecting ears.

It was odd how out of all the children there, you were the only one who could hear their muffled cries of pain.

The background, your surroundings, the calls of the other children to return to their side as they watched you step towards the outcast was all a haze to you. You couldn’t recognize or process anything other than the child that sat alone in tears.

It was a complete blur from there.

“Forever doesn’t exist, that’s why you should apologize before it’s too late!”

Why am I remembering this now?

Tears fell that day.

When have they not?

Unspoken words lingered in the air, thick and heavy on your tongue.

How many days have been like that? How many days have I lived like them?

Your mind answers for itself.

In the past, you had labeled them minor inconveniences. They didn’t matter to you.

They were minor inconveniences, you tried to convince yourself like so many times before.

Were the tears you shed over so many lost ones just minor?

Would you just toss them away?

Would you belittle the memories of one of your former closest elementary friends, years of friendship washed away in the downpour due to a nasty little rumor spread about you? Erase the little drawings and cards they made for you, each one describing how you would be by each other’s side forever?

Would you forget about the best friend that got away, the one that was forced to move away at the end of your primary years? The walk around the field, the stories you both wrote together, the secrets you entrusted with one another— were you going to toss that all away?

Would you forget about the one who you worked vigorously to build a friendship with when everyone was forced to split ways in junior high? Did you really think so little of the late night conversations, the occasional but rather spontaneous (and sometimes one-sided) heart-to-hearts, the long hours spent chatting away, learning about a love that stemmed deeper than the plants whose roots dipped beneath the soil under your feet? What about when they had chosen to push you out of their lives— manipulating you to keep you attached?

Would you be willing to forget when the empire you had fought endlessly to build and protect collapsed on you after quakes so powerful the once granite walls fissured and crumbled right above your head when you were at your weakest?

Would the scars that remained from the knives that were stabbed into your back, your chest, your heart, finally heal? Would the nasty and discolored marks fade from your skin like water slipping down a drain?

Would you forget about your family? The ones who raised you, who were by your side, near your side, even when it felt like they were miles away?

Would you forget about those who loved you unconditionally— for every one of your flaws, mistakes, and imperfections? The loyal ones who stood close enough to catch you if you fell, even when you didn’t deserve it. Even when you took them for granted.

What about Izuku and Katsuki? The ones that at one point in your life or another, meant the world to you?

Could you erase the memory of Katsuki’s passionate carmine eyes, irises the colors of the ripest of strawberries in the patch, filled with unspoken emotions that only the most observant and attentive of people could detect? The number of fingers on your hands could not come close to totaling the indefinite amount of days you spent staring into his eyes, (e/c) piercing through the thin panes of glass behind his eyes that sheltered his heart and soul, learning lessons that words could not formulate, that he would never dare let leave his mouth.

Would those minuscule yet intimate moments with the blond escape you at last?

Ironically, your calmest and most content moments resided with the boy from your childhood who always claimed one day he would be the greatest hero in the world. These tranquil times didn’t stem from your days as kids in primary school or pre-teens in middle school, but rather when you both were studying at UA.

Unbeknownst to Midoriya and nearly the entirety of Class A, Bakugou would constantly sneak you into his room late at night when neither of you could sleep or only wanted to bask in the the other’s presence. He always grumbled and complained about the unruly times you chose to sneak out of your room and how dangerous it was for you to risk injuring yourself just to see him, but every time you countered his argument with a simple smile and a “I missed you” before proceeding to hug him tightly.

The first few times you told Bakugou this, audible explosions began to crackle from his palms and immediately he shoved you off of him (after wiping his sweaty hands on his pants) and barked curses at you. Eventually, he welcomed you silently with open arms.

During those quiet nights, you both would lay on his bed, limbs intertwined. At first, you and Katsuki sat at a distance, until he began to lay down on his bed and hissed at you to follow suit. Then, you made the first move to cuddle Bakugou after he called you over because of a nightmare— the rest was history from there.

Brushing fingertips was your first taste of intimacy with Bakugou, until he gained the courage to hold your hand. Afterwards came the long hugs. Then, those hugs transformed into Bakugou pulling your head to rest on his bicep. Next came intertwined legs and gentle caresses. And the cherry on top was when his walls finally came down and he allowed you to be his rock, the shoulder he cried on when his studies and hero work caught up to him and left him doubled over in hopelessness, desperate to put himself back together.

But what about Izuku?

What about the boy you spent practically every year of your life with, the man that plagued your mind in the early hours of dawn and the late hours of dusk?

Were you ready to remove him forever? Were you truly ready to give up on the one you loved fearlessly for all those years, even in the face of adversity?

For ages, Midoriya was your beacon of hope. When the world felt like it was caving in, when you shoved everyone out and suffered in solitude, he stood unwavering and unrelenting to listen to your command; he defied your expectations and exceeded them.

Though, good things cannot survive for eternities.

At one point Izuku Midoriya, the one who claimed your heart long ago, slowly began to fade right in front of your eyes. He prioritized his work— he made saving others the reason why he breathed.

When that realization dawned upon you and you understood that he would never fawn at you the same way you did with him, you drowned yourself.

It felt like death.

You didn’t want to think about this anymore.

I want the pain to finally end.

It was pointless to clutch onto the minuscule semblance of mortality you had left before you completely rested in the grave. If you accepted the hand the reaper held out to you, sleep would be eternal.

That’s what I always wanted, right? So take it. It’s not like I ever had anything to lose. Whatever I once owned will never be mine again.

Succumbing was always easy. Succumbing to desires always rewarded you, albeit only temporarily. It was simpler that way— to fall under the umbrella of constantly accepting demands.

“Let go.”

You did; you drank every night until you were blackout drunk.

“Hide.”

You did. You pushed everyone away and isolated yourself.

“Suffer.”

You did. You never sought out help when your thoughts became too grim and dreary to bare alone.

“End it.”

You did. You jumped off the cliff and into the ocean.

“Accept it.”

Slowly, you were.

Slowly, you let your thoughts disintegrate into the dark, emptying your mind of coherency. Of rationality, of humanity.

That lifeless feeling of iciness within you traveled across the expanse of your body until you wholeheartedly believed you had always been a glacier of ice and not once a living being.

Like a sinking boulder, you slipped from consciousness to never resurface.

And like a gentle kiss, a speck of warmth formed on your skin before disappearing.

“Please don’t leave me, (Name). I love you.”

“Don’t do that again, idiot.”

The voice is warm like apple cider on a winter day, mixed with a twinge of sweet, sugary cinnamon that permeates the expanse of your tongue. It feels so welcoming, so safe despite the harshness lingering in the undertones of the voice— akin to if a thick and heavy spoonful of honey coated your tongue like syrup flowing off a stack of fluffy and golden-brown pancakes. You craved to have the sugary sap reach the back of your mouth and slide down your throat before it saturated your system with the sticky sweetness.

A tepid and sweaty hand enveloped yours, coarse callouses sheltering the dry and peeling skin of your knuckles from the bitter cold breeze blown from the air conditioning.

More words fall deaf on your ears as the strings of consciousness tie themselves back together in effort to push you out of your drowning slumber. The soothing and homely voice continues to repeat broken and fractured phrases that you try to reach, pushing yourself out of the sinister hold of the tendrils.

Enraged by your defiant behavior, the obsidian tentacles wrap themselves around the tied strings and tug harshly in an attempt to tear you apart, to send you back to where the worst of your melancholy and despondent thoughts resided.

“Come back, don’t leave me here!” the voice cried. “You and I, we’re both the same. Wherever I go, you come with. We are one.”

Were you the same as that evil voice that had plagued your mind like a virus, worming its way into your bloodstream in hopes of controlling your body and fatally killing you?

Would you ever do that to someone?

You’d like to think not.

“You better not leave me behind. You need to be there when I become number one.”

There was that familiar voice again— it was so warm. It felt like hugging a toasty bag of freshly baked bread in the chilly morning, or sitting down on your couch with a steaming cup of hot cocoa on a rainy day, slowly sipping at the aromatic and creamy chocolate that made your stomach squeal in pleasure and delight.

You craved to feel like this forever.

With the threat of betrayal, the tendrils furiously tightened their bruising grip on your limbs, unwilling to part ways with you.

“I was there for you when nobody ever was! I stuck by your side when you isolated yourself and had nobody— when everyone ignored you!” the voice reminded you, enraged by your defiance.

Why couldn’t you just submit to it?

But weren’t you the one that caused it? If it wasn’t for you, would I really be here now?

The idea is a sudden one that sends you reeling, heart pumping and sweat beading at the top of your head. The once cozy heat that flooded your body boils, burning hotter than the fiery and explosive stars above. An audible sizzling sound can be heard where the tendrils meet your skin.

“You better fight back, damn nerd. Everyone’s been waiting for you out here— they dropped everything to come see you.”

Everyone? Your classmates and friends?

But weren’t they the ones who knew of your suffering and still refused to extend a helping hand to you?

“They all come and go, you know that. Why would you go back to them? Don’t go back on the promise you made. Just for Midoriya, remember?”

Promise? Midoriya?

Your mind was too muddled to comprehend the voice’s words.

“That dumb Deku is here too. He’s worried sick about you, wouldn’t stop blubbering like an idiot the minute he saw me.”

The sight of emerald eyes filled with tears flashes through the darkness of your mind, a blur of a murky white, lifeless black, and a faded green.

You should react— you should feel something. Anything.

But you don’t.

The imagery fades as fast as it arrives, leaving you to reside with the black of your mind. There’s no fluttering of butterflies or red rose petals swirling in the air out of the corner of your eyes. The thought of Midoriya doesn’t warm you further— it only leaves you colder than before.

In the pit of death, it’s just you and the last of your humanity.

“He never liked you anyway. You never mattered. You knew that, didn’t you?”

A meek part of you wants to disagree, argue that he had to have appreciated you at least in the slightest to have stuck around you for as long as he did. But the majority of you solemnly nods in agreement, aware of the countless times where you blindly reached out to Izuku Midoriya.

He simply tolerated you because you constantly suffocated him with your presence. Midoriya never had a mean bone in his body, he would never speak up if someone was a nuisance to him.

“Yes!” the voice hissed, delighted. Slowly but surely, you were falling prey to its hold; to the negativity it had spread wide throughout your mind.

It was only a matter of time before you succumbed.

“Wake up, (Name). Please.”

It isn’t worth it, is it?

“I know I haven’t been the best, but I’ll make it up to you. Promise. Just please, please don’t leave me.”

The warm voice cracks, its words quivering, and there’s a shaky intake of breath. It sounds pained.

“You caused that pain.”

You did, didn’t you?

“Just let it all go,” the voice sung. “Come with me and it’ll all go away. Everyone will be okay. You will be okay.”

You should.

You know you should.

You know you should finally let go. You’d lost everything. You’d lost your life and were trapped in this bottomless pit of black.

If you just let go, you could be free.

“Then do it. Stop listening. Ignore it all. Let me take over.”

There’s words that are being spoken to you from the voice beside you, some louder and intenser than the last, but you block them out. You ignore and let the ferocious tendrils wrap around you and pull you down.

The thin string that holds you together snaps.

And finally, finally, it all stops. The noise, the voices, the thoughts, the feelings, the aches and pains.

At last, it’s all over, you tell yourself.

But do you really believe it?

You would never know.

You don’t think you’ve seen this many people crowded into a single hospital room.

For you, no less.

All of the former Class A students from your years in high school have flooded your room, some of them even stuck in the doorway. From Grape Juice to Creati, the space is absolutely cramped.

Beside your bed are mountain-high piles of gifts and letters from your friends as well as others who could not attend in time for the visiting hours. Without a doubt, some of those presents contained articles of lavish and luxurious gifts you could only afford in the wildest of your dreams if you had the money of a top pro-hero. (Money that these heroes had, considering some had been born into wealthy families while others had become filthy rich after making bold headlines as heroes in the media.)

Not to mention, all their attention had been focused entirely on you since the moment you awoke.

Uraraka had been the first to pounce on you, spewing words that flew past her mouth with such vigor and rush that you could not keep up. Like a koala, she clung to you— arms wrapped around your neck in a vice and warm grip as she sobbed uncontrollably into your shoulder. Tsuyu had pried her off apologetically, but you merely continued to stare in a daze, the countless medications that they had pumped through your blood still in effect.

One by one, each visitor came up to your bedside and sat down beside you to speak while the others watched. Each interaction differed from the last.

Mina had buried your head into the crook of her necks as she brokenly whispered words of endearment and utmost adoration into your ear, rubbing your back softly as salty tears spilled from her eyes and onto the pillow behind you. Eventually, Mina clasped your face between her hands and grinned through tears at the sight of your face between her hands, further cementing the fact that you were alive and still with her.

After a couple more shared moments with some of the others, Todoroki had stepped up to you with an indecipherable expression painted onto his features before sitting down and opening his arms in a silent offer of a hug. You lifted yourself up and leaned into his hold and he held you delicately like glass, murmuring a gentle “I’m so sorry” and “Thank you for not leaving us.”

Once Todoroki left your side, Momo immediately took his place and buried your head into her chest. At that point, your eyes had begun to sting in response to the endless tears your friends had shed and you were sure they were just as red as Momo’s bloodshot ones.

After Yaomomo came Eijiro Kirishima, your personal golden retriever.

He had lunged at you, scooping you into his arms. Squeezing you tightly, Kirishima could not help but sob into the crook of your neck, shaking while doing so. Apologetic words were whispered brokenly, his voice cracking and changing pitch every syllable.

For someone so sturdy, so stable, you never thought the unbreakable Red Riot could crumble quite so easily.

At the hands of your own, no less.

Finally, the tears began to flow from your eyes, overpowering the dam that stubbornly refused to budge whenever it splintered. Wrapping your arms around Kirishima’s back, you clutch on for dear life, crying into his shoulder.

You almost died.

You did die.

The horror of your situation finally settles.

Your behavior and actions, it really did matter. It affected others, not only yourself. If these people were barely holding it together from seeing you now, alive and safe in a hospital, how would they have reacted if you did indeed die?

If the voice had truly beaten the odds, what would have happened to those around you?

You’re glad, you conclude, that you’ll never know and they’ll never really experience it either.

Death may conclude your story, but it doesn’t end theirs. You just close the book of their life and stop reading their story.

Glancing up from Kirishima’s quivering shoulders, you inspect the body language of everyone there. Some are hunched over, hands clasped over their mouths with tears staining their face. Others comfort each other, tenderly rubbing their backs.

However, there’s one person in particular that catches your eye.

He broods alone in the back, carmine eyes staring daggers into the ground. Dressed in his infamous black skull t-shirt and black sweatpants, his ash-blond hair stands out like a sore thumb.

You know that hunched figure like the back of your hand, even despite his immense growth over the years.

“Bakugou?”

It’s a quiet croak, a frightened whisper. But like the hawk he is, his head whips up, eyes widened in surprise.

And it is then, you see the true damage you’ve caused.

The rims of his eyes are a soft red, like the powdery light red of blush. Below his eyelashes lay streaks of fallen tears, their traces as evident as a bear’s footprints in still snow. His eyebrows are pulled together, wrinkling the space between his glassy eyes. It’s uncanny seeing Bakugou showing an emotion besides anger or neutrality, especially one akin to despair.

You’ve never seen such a hopeless expression visible on his face before.

You’re a monster.

For doing that to someone like him, you know you are.

Kirishima raises his head up and gives a small grin, glancing back at his companion. “Bakugou’s been here since you arrived at the hospital. He was the first person to contact us all about . . . this.”

You wince, pursing your lips at his not-so-subtle tiptoeing around your attempt. He means no harm, but the sting is just as intense at the reminder of your breakdown.

He moves off you and motions Katsuki to move towards your side, patting the blond on the back as he trudged over.

His steps are hesitant and slow— like a zookeeper approaching a wounded, rabid animal. Vermillion eyes inspect the tears that cling onto your eyelashes, the trembling at the corner of your lips, and the shallow intakes and exhales of breath from your throat.

The air between you is thick, but no matter how tense, you open your arms for Bakugou, staring at him teary eyed. He hovers above you, unsure of closing the distance between you both.

“Please?” Your arms tremble mid-air, and the tears on your face stream down faster. You don’t look decent— no one would look their best in such a weak, raw, and vulnerable moment, but you don’t care.

You don’t care because you know surviving is worth so much more than a presentable exterior.

Bakugou swallows thickly before moving into your embrace. His warmth contrasts the iciness in your bones and brings the blood rushing to the rest of your body. Your heart pounds rapidly and your lungs expand further and further, desperate to inhale all of Bakugou Katsuki in.

You stay like that for a few moments before he breaks the silence. “You idiot.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“If you need help, you better ask for it next time.”

And then, a small bit of warmth blossoms in your cheeks.

“Yeah, I know.”

MIDORIYA IS FRAGILE.

Midoriya is weak.

No matter how much time had passed and no matter how strong he became, he would always be that same helpless kid he once was. It was an innate part of him— Defenseless Deku would always be the child that existed in the corners of the Number One, Symbol of Peace Pro-Hero Deku’s mind.

Those thin, shaking arms and glassy, red-rimmed eyes all sewn onto a young boy would always be the reflection of Midoriya whenever he stared at the mirror.

Years of scars, fractured bones, and matured features would always fail at hiding the truth about the soul that lived within the body of the greatest hero in all of Japan’s history.

It’s something that lingered in his mind at the late hours of dusk and early hours of dawn— the harrowing truth about the Symbol of Peace.

How could one man be so strong, so powerful, yet be so weak, helpless, and vulnerable?

The thought bounced in his mind as he sat tiredly in the rickety chair of the hospital after receiving a panicked, cryptic worried message from Kacchan.

“‘She was tired. Bleak— dull. She wasn’t herself. She needs our help.’”

His words floated in Midoriya’s head, crashing into the sides of his mind once they resurfaced ashore, only to slip from the sandy outskirts of the beach and back into the rippling waves of the ocean.

“‘She needs you, Izuku.’”

(Name), his (Name), was in danger. You needed help- his help.

He wondered why Kacchan hadn’t just followed you himself. He had always loved you, long before Midoriya even did (or knew he did, for that matter). Midoriya had always known that.

Why didn’t he just play hero as he always would (just like when they were kids and Bakugou always wanted to be the one to only rescue you), and take all the glory for himself? It would end as it always did in those Hollywood films— the hero would save the girl and get her, and they would live happily ever after.

Isn’t that what Kacchan wanted? To live happily ever after with you?

At least, that’s what Midoriya had always concluded whenever his thoughts would trail back to the rather confusing relationship between you and his biggest rival.

Kacchan had always held a soft spot for you. Although the brashness of his actions and pointed words would’ve pierced anyone (like they soon did with him), those icicles simply melted before they could touch the surface of your skin.

And at first, that love was platonic (he believes, but Midoriya is unsure. He may have been able to read Kacchan like a book after years of knowing him, but he could never grasp his concept of romantic and platonic love. He didn’t know him like that.)

Gradually, however, it blossomed into something deeper than just a friendship. In the soil of his greatest rival’s heart, the roots of that love penetrated the layers of dirt before it overtook his heart and became something much stronger than either of them could have fathomed.

Kacchan would deny it all, though. Even to Midoriya.

Distinctly, Midoriya recalled watching Bakugou walk off to your dorm when you both were in your second year at U.A. He hadn’t thought much of it then (as it wasn’t until months afterwards did he begin to suspect Bakugou’s true feelings for you), but it became a frequent sight as the weeks passed.

In due time, Midoriya realized that Bakugou had been meeting up with you more than just those moments he saw Kacchan heading to your dorm room.

A polite voice snapped Midoriya from his spiraling thoughts.

“Mr. Midoriya, you are free to see (Last Name) (First Name).”

He gave a kind smile, bowing his head before he rose. Mindlessly, he walked down the hall until he found your room number the nurse gave.

Your room is secluded off into the end of the hall, beside nothing but a sterile white wall. It’s lonely out here— there are no people or gifts waiting outside the patient’s doors; just sterile, white walls and tiles.

You don’t belong here.

When Midoriya entered your room, the sight of your still body laying unceremoniously on the thin white bedding of the hospital greeted him. Not even a paper blanket had been thrown on you.

An IV drip is lodged into one of your arms, with wires of other sorts filling out the rest of the space on your forearms. Your hair is tangled and matted together by the salty water that once absorbed your body whole. There are fresh, pink cuts laying all over your body, no doubt sterilized by alcohol.

The scene reminded Midoriya of the many times he had landed himself in the hospital critically injured and on the verge of death.

You shouldn’t be in his place.

Never should you be in his place.

He loved you too much to stand seeing you so injured. You were a support hero— you stayed in the background to make the heroes of the public stronger. You belonged in an office where you would be safe and protected. Midoriya made sure of that when he requested you work for him.

But he let this happen.

It’s an unfortunate truth he doesn’t want to accept.

Midoriya knew about your feelings the whole time. He had seen the lovesick, dazed expressions you gave him. He saw the way you would grin happily after each passing interaction with him, how your eyes would light up whenever he stepped in the same room as you.

He knew because he would do all the same for you.

Every time he stepped into the office, his eyes would search for any semblance of you. It had always been like that.

He had always sought out for you, even as kids.

That’s why as he got older and realized the grasp you had on him, Midoriya attempted to flee his emotions. The longer he was around you, the deeper he spiraled in his endless pit of love for you. Butterflies would erupt every second he thought of you— they covered every inch of his being until he became a colorful mess of emotions.

And as he neared the number one spot, he realized the danger that came with such feelings. He would place a target on both your backs. Any villain looking for revenge against him would find you first as a means to get to him. And if they did— if they hurt you— he would have shattered

He would shatter.

That’s why he fled from your life: to protect you.

And himself.

Selfish Izuku.

But he failed to realize the affect it had on you. He never cared to look back and see how you took his sudden disappearance.

Look where that got you both, he tells himself.

You, in a hospital bed barely alive and him, guilty and torn apart at the seams.

Izuku Midoriya may be a hero, but he is a villain all the same.

Whether or not you’re aware of it, he is the villain in your story.

But he is— and that is enough to send the strongest man alive sprinting out of your hospital room and into the night, far away from you, his emotions, and the reality of your lives. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision as he soars in the air, pouncing from rooftop to rooftop.

The world will always remind Izuku Midoriya that while your worlds were meant to meet, they were meant to collide together and cause destruction.

He just never meant to damage yours as much as he did.

But Midoriya is weak. He is as fragile and helpless as they come, even if he is trapped in the body of the most powerful and capable being known to man.

The cruel universe continued to laugh at him, bathing gloriously in his misery.

Dumb little boy, it condescendingly cooed.

Helpless Izuku, it reminded him.

And he let it torment him, as he always had. Because while he may be the closest thing to God, even he cannot defy fate.

The world doesn’t welcome you with open arms after you’re discharged from the hospital.

When you step outside of the hospital doors, the weather isn’t warm and sunny with a gentle breeze that kisses your skin in those Hollywood movies. The ends of your clothes and hair don’t flutter majestically in the wind. Birds don’t swoop down and tweet enthusiastically at you, hopping to inch near you. There aren’t people happily chattering as they trek down the sidewalks and kids squealing as they sprint freely across the street.

Instead, it’s a sweltering kind of heat that causes sweat to form in every crevice of your body; it’s the kind that burns your skin the moment you step outside, tearing apart your dry, AC-adapted skin. Hair sticks to your face at unflattering angles and your wrinkled clothes are impossibly uncomfortable with every step you take. The polyester of your shirt rubs uncomfortably against the cuts and bruises located all around your body, making you wince. Animals and critters skitter away into the shade in hopes of cooling down. There are no pedestrians on the street or giddy kids. All you can see and hear are cars honking at each other, angry drivers, and speeding motorcycles.

Life is hideous, unfortunate, and cruel. Life is reality. Life is the truth and the truth was never meant to be kind or forgiving. It was meant to kick you off your high horse and humble yourself. It was meant to remind you no matter the strength you possessed, no matter how perfect you were perceived, you would always have to bow your head to the hand above. It was meant to teach you to never bite the hand that feeds you, or else dire consequences will come from those who are disobedient.

And you disobeyed it. You defied fate. You chose your own death, against the death the world had planned for you. You sunk your canines into the hand of life and tore its fingers off, letting the blood spurt over your face.

Now, you are paying for it by living through misery.

Before and after death.

Always and forever.

“Pathetic,” the voice whispered. “How pathetic, (Name). You can’t do anything right, can you?”

A sleek black cars rolls to the curb and a tinted window is rolled down. Ash-blond spikes stick out of the window and you are met with Bakugou’s gleaming eyes.

“You getting in, Princess?”

He sticks a thumb behind him, signaling for you to go to the back. Nodding your head, you step into the back of the vehicle and shut the door behind you, buckling your seatbelt.

You’re right, you agreed with the voice, I can’t do anything right.

Beside Bakugou in the driver’s seat is Todoroki, who sends you a charming smile when he looks back at you. Bakugou turns over as well.

“Hello, (Name).”

You softened at the sight of his body’s tension melting under your gaze. “Hi, Shoto. How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

A bright laugh escapes you— it’s abrupt and loud— the kind that makes you roll around in your bed rethinking your every choice at the crack of dawn.

Yet, somehow for the first time in months, nearly years, you feel a little bit lighter.

The world seems a little brighter.

The voice boils in rage.

“Aren’t you just a charmer, Todoroki?” your hand waves teasingly as you press your head to the glass, swooning to the side. “I always knew your were my Prince Charming waiting to sweep me off my feet!”

Bakugou sucks air through his teeth, huffing loudly. Shoto’s eyes twinkle in amusement as he peers over at Katsuki, his eyes crinkling as his smile grows wider and the pearls of his teeth begin to show.

“If you have something to say Bakugou, you should communicate with us,” Todoroki stated matter-of-factly, glancing behind him before reversing out of his spot. “We’re friends, after all.”

Bakugou scowls, rolling his eyes before turning back and staring at you from the dash mirror. “You got all your stuff, (Name)?”

You nodded, watching as he turned to look off into the distance.

Bakugou had changed drastically from the teenager he once was in UA and even though you saw his development each year, never did you focus on each of his features as he matured.

Your mind wanders to the memories stored of the nights you continuously spent with Bakugou, drinking in his features. The images of the moonlight glowing on his skin like a gentle kiss from a loving mother. The slight curl of his eyelashes, always so long and full that the girls in middle school would jealously whisper over how pretty he was. The deep carmine of his eyes that resembled the reddest of apples, so shiny and perfectly polished that even the fruit trees strewn across Japan enviously would turn away, swaying their branches in the opposite direction just to look away from his breathtaking features.

Those features remained as an adult. Though, the only difference between younger Bakugou and your current one were their builds. Katsuki was taller, bulkier, and somehow even leaner to the point every angle of him appeared sharp. His jawline, the outline of his shoulders, his calf muscles, and everything inbetween. You had gotten accustomed to hearing the fangirls and fanboys of Dynamight ramble about his striking appearance, but you never noticed it properly until this moment.

He’s healthier.

Happier, too.

The once permanent scowl on his face has toned down to a stoic expression and his eyes seem purer than they ever had been before. His soul is kinder, his intentions are gentler. It’s evident with the way he interacts with the world around him, how his touch is less sudden and rough.

You’re glad to see him flourishing in life.

He deserves nothing but the best.

“You don’t,” the voice sneered.

A catchy tune permeates the air and you snap back to the present to find Shoto fiddling with the radio. Slender fingers twisted the black knob back and forth, lingering on each different station for only a moment before moving onto the next.

Shoto cleared his throat. “Are there any radio stations you both like?”

Bakugou shook his head. “I only listen to music from my phone.” He tilts his head back to look at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“Not really,” you tugged at your shirt, trying to distract yourself. “I’m kinda like Bakugou.”

Todoroki lets go of the knob and returns both hands to the steering wheel. “Well, I suggest one of you pull out your phone because we have a long way to go.”

His head bobs in Katsuki’s direction and Bakugou whips out his phone.

Quizzically, you peer at the two. Raising an eyebrow, you reiterate, “. . . A long way to go? My home isn’t that far from the general hospital. It’s not more than 10 minutes driving.”

Immediately, you look outside, reading the names of the streets that pass by. Street names you’ve never heard before pass by and you are met with unfamiliar roads and scenery. Instead of the usual shrubs you’re used to walking by, there are blossoming trees on every corner. This part of the city is far nicer than what you’re used to.

They aren’t taking you home.

“Hope you like animals, princess,” Bakugou chuckled, patting Shoto on the shoulder.

“Road-trip,” Shoto said in the most monotone voice possible.

You gulp.

Geez, maybe I shouldn’t have gotten in this car in the first place.

You grumble, pulling your legs to your chest.

Bakugou cackles loudly and Todoroki emits a small chuckle.

You crack a grin and close your eyes. The voice fumes.

Your smile brightens.

Life gradually begins to slow down as the months pass.

Time doesn’t go as fast, memories don’t escape your mind as much, and moments seem to last long enough to engrave themselves into you. No longer do you live life through your eyes as a spectator in your own body, but as an actual human being present in the moment.

In short, you’re recovering.

At least, that’s what your therapist says. Your friends too.

Not everyday is perfect. You’re not productive every morning, afternoon, or night. Sometimes, you can get out of bed with ease and settle into the little routine you’ve built for yourself. You can wake up, make your bed, change your clothes, wash your face, perform a skincare routine, make breakfast and commence with the day. You might be productive the whole days and run errands, make phone calls, book appointments, and catch up with friends and family. In other instances, your day is much more mundane. You lounge on the couch, hangout with friends, or treat yourself to some nice takeout or a nice walk to that local cafe or bakery. You end the day with a nice movie and popcorn, and even desert if you’re feeling something sweet. Then, you go to bed and the process repeats.

Other times, it feels impossible to even crack your eyes open. You can’t bring yourself to break through the state of slumber. All you can pray for are for those black tendrils to pull you back under into a dreamless world to distract you from reality. Getting out of bed is nearly impossible; it requires hours of coaxing yourself, frustrated tears, frantic thoughts, and maybe a pair of helping hands. The distance from your bed to your bathroom is infinite and the idea of even picking up your toothbrush has you collapsing on the spot. The tears bleed from your eyes and pile onto the sink and your pained sobs echo throughout the halls. The water of the shower is too much and you have to just sit there and wallow until a nagging feeling, a sliver of an authoritative voice reminds you there are bills to pay and there is a life to live. The day is filled with long hours of work and unrest and agony, but it only takes one text to guarantee a pair of warm arms will pick up the pieces of your pain when you get home.

Those days are the hardest, but you’ve survived each one. That in its own is a feat that you’re reminded of everyday you stare in the mirror. You imagine the faces of those who remain with you today whenever the thought dwells and you continue on.

Guilt sparks in your chest when you think of all of those who had suffered in the way you had but received no support and were left to suffer. Your heart cracks, but you know you must do this.

If not for you, for them. For those who were not as fortunate. You will live to tell the tale they could not.

You will remember them in life while they are remembered in death.

Your therapist says trial and error is how you succeed in life. Learning from mistakes is how you grow into someone greater than you were before.

To conclude each session, she reminds you consistency is key. Each time you tell her, “‘Frankly, that’s the hardest part about recovery.’”

It’s hard to be consistent because nothing is consistent in your life. Nothing is consistent in life. The world is ever-changing. Everyday, the Earth spins and something changes around you. A child grows a year older. A baby is born. A loved one is lost. Life dies. Life is reborn. Love blossoms and love dies. A new creation is discovered while another is destroyed. A heart is broken while another is mended.

Someone changes. And at one point in time, you were that person who changed.

Without a beat, she sends you that wistful smile of hers and that one sentence that leads you snorting out of her office.

“‘You like to surprise the world, (Name).’”

For the longest time you had thought she was going mad listening to you, but you eat your words now.

“Did you love him?”

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

Slender fingers wrap around the end of the teaspoon, digging the head into the cup of sugar. Another few reach for the China teacup placed in the middle of the table, gently moving it forward to meet the now full spoon of sugar. The grains of white tumble out of the rounded metal and into the warm water, sinking to the bottom until the same spoon hits the water and stirs them around, dissolving them.

The fresh cup of tea is handed to you.

“Who?” The ceramic’s temperature is a favorable kind of warm— the type that spreads from your fingertips into the rest of your body until you’ve melted in a comfortable pile of goo that brings a content feeling swelling in your chest.

The tea is even warmer, steam hitting your face as you go to sip it. The liquid slips past your lips and over your tongue, coating every crevice of your mouth. The hints of mint and Jasmine blend perfectly with each other, the sweet floral balances out the spice of the mentha.

It reminds you of him.

“Don’t be coy, (Name). You know who I’m talking about.” You want to decline her assertion— to argue that her generality is misleading and she should specify who the man she suspects you have fallen in love with is. But this lady is one you have known for your whole life, one who you believe may just know better than all the rest despite your drastic differences. She was always there to keep you in check between reality and fiction.

Finally, you look up.

Astute and inquisitive eyes the color of carmine align with yours. Mitsuki grins slyly, her eyes twinkling in amusement. “There’s those pretty eyes. Glad to see you’re still in tact, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not fragile, Mitsuki. And you’re starting to sound like Katsuki.”

The woman’s eyes soften at the sound of her son’s name and crinkle at the edges in thought. “He got his language from me, y’know. I was the one who called you all those sweet things when you were young. I mean, you were just the cutest little girl!” She wears an adoring smile on her face as she gazes at you with so much motherly love that you can only fidget under her gaze, lowering your eyes in embarrassment.

You never got used to the fireball known as Mitsuki Bakugou, nor her affections. From your earliest days, you could recall the way she would just coddle you. Whenever her son seemed to be talking your ear off or you were overwhelmed, she would simply pluck you out of Bakugou’s reach and walk away from his vicinity, cradling you in her arms cooing quietly at you. No matter how much he would protest, Mitsuki would be your getaway from any situation you couldn’t seem to defuse yourself.

On the weekends, she would take you out shopping with her as if you were her own kin, doting on you like a second mother. She would buy you clothes, books, get you icecream and take you out to eat. Your parents liked to joke that she was their own free babysitter, to which she would always exclaim that you would always be the daughter she never had.

As you got older, that powerful kind of love Mitsuki possessed was one you saw less and less of. That growing rift between you and her son was greater than ever, and the chances you had of seeing her was minimal, minus the outings she would frequently invite your folks to. Even then, she would always be mingling with the crowd.

Sometimes, you wondered if she was there with you through your hardest years would your life have turned out differently. It’s a thought to entertain, but the consequences of misery and despair flare at the idea.

You push the concept down whenever it pops up.

She continues.

“Katsuki simply followed suit. He’s my boy, after all.”

“Your own personal carbon copy,” you agree, stroking the intricately painted patterns of the fine China. The thought of Mitsuki’s question lingers in your head, prodding at a hidden part of your mind you had tucked away for ages now.

The topic of Izuku Midoriya was one you stopped entertaining after the night at the cliff. You had ripped it from the forefront of your mind, shoved it deep inside a metal vault, locked it shut, and tossed the key away.

The relationship between you both was messy— it was a lack of communication, a tangled mess of emotions and one-sided care. The bubble of your affections was filled with mistreatment, betrayal, selfishness, and greed. It was take, take, take from Midoriya and give, give, give from you. It wasn’t healthy for you nor Midoriya.

After you had opened the can of worms that was the man you once loved with your therapist, it wasn’t possible for you to ever see him in the same light. You could never stare at Midoriya with that blindly lovestruck gaze through those rose-tinted lenses. All that flashed before your eyes at the mere mention of him was the horror, sympathy, and guilt that swirled in her eyes as she listened to you. The shaky hug she had given you made you quiver in your shoes and the tears that fell from her eyes made your own slip past your hold.

That was the first time you had seen her professional facade break.

The thought that even the most experienced and knowledgeable of people in the world breaking at the seams from your supposed love story sickened you to your core.

“Was it that obvious?” Truthfully, you’re curious. Did everyone around you know how you used to feel about him? Were your affections for him that palpable?

“Very,” she nods, bringing the cup to her lips once again. “None of us saw it at first when you were kids. Not Inko, myself, or your family.”

Mitsuki sets the cup down, leaning her head on her hand. “But as you all grew up, we all realized that whenever you were with Izuku, you lit up in a way none of us had ever seen before. It was puppy love in our eyes, so we didn’t think much of it at first.”

A noncommittal hum leaves your throat and you inspect Mitsuki as she speaks.

“I mean, you were obvious. It was sweet,” Mitsuki laughs, the vermillion irises of her eyes shining in glee. Suddenly, she placed a finger to her cheek in thought. “Have you spoken to him as of late, (Name)?”

“Midoriya?” you blink, surprised. She doesn’t know, (Name). Stay calm.

You shake your head before going to down the rest of your tea. Mitsuki waved her hand in the air, her face morphing into an indecipherable expression.

“The brat told me about how worried the both of them were over you when you were still in the hospital,” she begins, and she looks down, lowering her voice. “He . . . He was scared.”

You still.

“Scared?” you parrot. “Why? He’s seen worse, hasn’t he?”

The eyebrows of Mitsuki’s face furrow and she sets her teacup down, clasping her hands together. It’s as if the air around you stills and time begins to freeze, pausing the orbiting of Earth itself.

Mitsuki hesitates. “He called me in tears when he was waiting for you to wake up— he was terrified. And when your heartbeat flatlined?” Mitsuki shakes her head. “He couldn’t hold himself together anymore. That Todoroki kid and Kirishima had to take him outside to console him.”

She stares at you, smiling sadly. “The last time he was that petrified was when he was a child, (Name).” A small exhale leaves her lips. “If he lost you that day, he would have lost everything.”

“Huh?” you sweat-drop. “Katsuki has a lot going for him in life, Mitsuki. I don’t think my . . . disappearance would be the end of him.”

Mitsuki shakes her head with a solemn smile, the low curl of her lips hinting at a secret unbeknownst to you. “You just don’t know how much you mean to my boy, (Name).”

She sighs. “I wish he would just tell you already. But I suppose now isn’t this time, is it?”

Mitsuki stands from her position, moving over to pat your head affectionally before leaving the kitchen.

A small part of you claws at your throat, screeching at you to stop her fading figure. It itches at you, desperate to scratch at the surface of your curiosity.

What does Katsuki need to tell me? And why won’t he?

“Curiosity killed the cat, (Name),” the voice giggles in glee. “You don’t want to meet that same end again, do you?”

A booming voice cuts through the clouds in the sky, sending you falling back to the ground.

“You ready to go?”

Leaning against the frame of the hall in all his glory is Katsuki Bakugou, dressed nicer than you’ve ever seen him. He’s wearing a fitted black polo from a brand far too expensive for you to name off the top of your head and a pair of tailored khaki pants. Placed on his right wrist is a black Vacheron Constantin watch with intricate carvings and stones within the clock that looks far too expensive for you to even fathom purchasing or even browsing through.

Like a moth to a flame, Mitsuki steps over to her son, fussing over him like a mother bird with her chick. She huffs as she adjusts the collar of his shirt accordingly, and he groans as his mother who was nearly a foot shorter than him pranced around and fixed his appearance.

The sight was heartwarming, sending a wave of nostalgia through you.

“You expect to go out with (Name) looking like that? I raised you better than this, Katsuki! You’re the son of a fashion designer!” Mitsuki scolds, combing out his hair.

He grumbles, swatting her hand away. “You hag—! I look fine!”

The bickering between the two continues, both of them going back and forth. She swats at his shoulder, even going as far to beat him with her slipper.

Bakugou takes each hit, not moving to fight back. You know he could stop her if he wanted. After all, he was the second strongest hero of Japan and pure muscle. No woman or man stood a chance against him.

Though, when you see Bakugou wince as his mom smacks him for the nth time, you’re left thinking that maybe Mitsuki might be the exception to the rule.

The thought bubbles a giggle in your throat that leaves you chortling to the point of tears. It’s a sound that hasn’t escaped you in ages.

Your chest feels full. Your body feels warm— not the restricting kind, but the comforting one.

They both turn to the sound, their expressions softening as you doubled over in joy. You look up and find Bakugou’s eyes swirling with an emotion that sends your heart fluttering and a brighter grin growing on your face against your will.

The expression reminds you of one you always stared at Midoriya with.

Could it be . . . ?

Heat spreads across your body and your heart skips a beat.

“No one could ever love you, (Name). No one ever will. You’re unlovable,” the voice smirked. “Foolish little (Name). Lovestruck already for another man you’ll never get? How humiliating.”

You recoil back into your timid shell, causing Mitsuki to give Katsuki a look.

The look.

It shouts at him, “Go comfort (Name)! How else are you going to win her heart?”

The one Katsuki returns barks, “What do you think I was going to do?! You’re bothering me, hag!”

Mitsuki rolls her eyes before slapping his shoulder with a huff. “Well, you better go now Romeo, or else I’ll whisk her away from you first!”

He breaks eye contact first, rolling his eyes as he nears towards your hunched figure. From the lowering of your head, he suspects your eyes are trained on the table in front of you. Though, his vision is obscured by the hair that falls in front of your eyes that he so desperately desires to tuck behind your ear.

Be selfish, his mind screamed. Take what you want the most.

But for you, he swore to never bite the hand you fed him from. He would always be grateful for the attention, affection, and care you gave him. You were always so generous with him and the twerp.

Perhaps this time, he would become the hand that did not feed you, but pampered you. Loved you. Took care of you. He would prove that he was not a man greater than the world when he was on his knees beside you. You were his equal, his other half.

He would treat you better than Midoriya ever did. While the Symbol of Peace was blessed with countless chances to end as yours, to take off running with you into a never-ending fairytale, he always left you to eat dust and dirt. Even when Bakugou sacrificed the one chance he had for Midoriya, he refused to atone for his sins. Instead, he only ran further.

This time, Bakugou would not wait for the world to give him a chance. He would create his one last chance with you.

He would love you right. Properly, fully, and unconditionally.

Unlike Midoriya.

A calloused hand gently pushes a few strands behind your ear before cupping the side of your face, bringing your eyes back into focus. Rough palms lovingly caress the apple of your cheeks and instinctively you lean into their hold.

From their touch alone, you know who this is.

Kneeling beside you is Katsuki Bakugou in all his glory, vermillion eyes and all trained on your face. Delicately, you move your hand to wrap around his wrist, giving him a small grin at his delicate behavior. It reminded you of the nights you spent back at UA together.

The syrupy feeling in your chest swirls faster.

A sudden flick smacks your forehead and instinctively you grab your head, face morphing into a glare. “You done prancing with your head in the clouds? We got a reservation to meet.”

You playfully scoff, standing up. “You can’t be nice for once, can you Katsuki?”

He laughed. “Never, Princess.”

The two of you head towards the front door, hugging Mitsuki as you leave. As you both enter Bakugou’s car, she waves you off with a “stay safe name! And protect her Katsuki!”

“We will, Mitsuki!” you shouted, waving. Bakugou grumbles and affectionately, you ruffle his hair. “He says he will, too!”

Mitsuki emits a hearty laugh as she walks back inside the comforts of her own home.

“So where are we headed to eat?” you trace the end of your dress, twirling the loose fabric. “You said to dress nicer than normal, but I’m not too sure what to expect with you pro-heroes.“

Bakugou snorts. “What makes you say that, sweetheart?”

You side-eye Bakugou, cocking an eyebrow. “Take a wild guess.”

“Half-N’-Half took you to one of those rich restaurants in Tokyo?” Bakugou doesn’t even glance over. He’s right and he knows it.

As always.

You grimace, melting into your seat. “I wish I could have evaporated into thin air the moment I stepped inside.”

The occurrence had happened not even a week ago. Only hours before you were meant to hangout with Todoroki, he had sent you an ominous text to simply dress well. When he picked you up, all he would tell you was that you both were attending somewhere nice to dine for the night. And as clueless as ever, you assumed it would be a slightly more upscale restaurant than you both typically frequented.

But boy, were you wrong.

The restaurant was at least fifteen stories tall with clear panes of glass covering every inch of each wall. Chandeliers covered each foot of the high rise ceilings and the floors were glassy, gargantuan tiles that were a pale color of hessonite. The furniture in the establishment were expensive— mulberry silk, plush cushions, bocote wood and all.

The patrons appeared to be just as wealthy, if not more. Dressed in the finest of suits and dresses, adorned with flashy and gauzy jewelry, each and every one of them burned brighter than last.

Shoto too, fit right in. Elegant and classy, they all gawked at the Number Three Pro-Hero.

And you, in comparison to them, stood out like a sore thumb. Meek, humble, and intimidated. You could hear their whispers about you, that night. But you chose to suck down your raging emotions to enjoy the night and tasty dishes.

Well, for as long as you could.

“Was the food good? Shit like that is either hit or miss,” Bakugou commented as he took a right turn, peeking at the GPS set up in the car. “We’re almost there.”

You nod, watching as the once filled roads of the highway cleared into empty streets of residential neighborhoods. “The food was fantastic, but the portions wouldn’t have even fed an infant. I don’t think I’d ever go back, though.”

“Why not?”

You blink, scratching at the skin of your arm to distract yourself from Bakugou’s question. Maybe, just maybe he would ignore your silence—

He repeats his question, opting to now stare at you. You shrink further back into your seat.

There’s no point in lying now, is there?

“I kind of freaked out,” you admit, leaning against the window. The glass is cool against your skin and you let your eyes close momentarily. “I was thrown into an unknown environment and I could feel all their eyes on me. They weren’t trying to hide the fact that they were talking about me.”

You kicked off your heels, sitting your legs up on the seat. “Halfway through, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I told Shoto I had a call to take and nearly sprinted outside to get some fresh air.” You open your eyes, looking at the dashboard in front of you. “It’s humiliating to think about it now, but I left for nearly an hour trying to calm myself down. I must’ve looked insane to anyone walking by.”

The imagery of you sitting on your bottom in front of a Michelin star restaurant with your head in your hands breathing erratically and on the verge of tears made you cringe at the idea. You definitely got some dirty looks, even if no one approached you.

Timidly, you peered at Bakugou. His expression was blank and his lips formed no response.

Your heart constricts itself in your chest.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut, you chastise, curling deeper into yourself. Dread filled your stomach. Why did I even open my mouth?

“Why did you?” the voice taunts. “Everything is easier when you just stay quiet.”

Tears bud at the corner of your eyes and you curl deeper into yourself, focusing on the scenery flying by outside.

Despite the two of you entering residential roads, the area looks familiar. The quiet streets eventually delve into a busy intersection filled with grocery stores and small businesses. The scene looks familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it.

“Stupid, little (Name),” the voice coos patronizingly. You grit your teeth. The dread that once resided in your stomach transforms into a festering anger that dribbles into your bloodstream, spreading like pure poison.

The voice beams, spinning circles around your mind eagerly. “Didn’t we go over this last time, (Name)? I’m always right. You’re always wrong. That’s just how it is. That’s life.”

That’s not true— you’re nothing but a filthy liar! you seeth, digging your nails into your skin. I believed you and look where I am—

The thought freezes you. As soon as it comes, it dies. You can hear the voice giggling in delight. Horror creeps into your chest. You tremble in return.

I thought I was getting better. That hopelessness you thought left your system months ago seeps into your bones, attempting to crack the wall of sanity you had spent months building. I thought I was supposed to be healing.

The mantra that rung repeatedly in your head that evening at your office plays again, mimicking that dull little tune. I can’t, I can’t, I—

“We’re here,” Bakugou turns off the ignition of the car. Swiveling your head, you are met with carmine irises and narrowed eyes inspecting your features.

You gulp.

Choke it down, (Name). You’re ruining it for him. Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re okay. You’re fine. You’ll be okay. Just get out. Just leave. It’s only a few more hours and then you can kiss the bed goodnight and never wake up again.

Finally, when you turn to see where you arrived, your heart plummets.

To your side lay swaying blades of grass, swinging to the current of the evening breeze. They dance in the wind, luring the unknown to enter their arcane kingdom. In between the luscious planes of evergreen grass is a dirt road, soiled with muddy tracks from those who had come before you two.

The idea that some of those tracks could have been yours sends you reeling.

I can’t do this. This has to be some sick joke the universe is playing on me. A nightmare.

Suddenly, Bakugou is in front of your door, unlocking it for you. No words are said, except for the calloused hand he has laid out for you. You can’t see his eyes, but you’re sure he must think you’re insane.

If he didn’t before, he surely did now.

Just get the night over with, (Name). It can’t be that bad, right? You’re just overthinking it. It’s not that big of a deal.

“You’re too naive,” the voice sings. Slowly, the inky tendrils of despair emerged from the crevices of your mind, circling your brain. Latching onto any expanse of mind, they pulled and pushed. “You’re hopeless. Why do you even try? You failed once. You’re nothing. You’re worthless.”

I’m not worthless, you argue back, taking Bakugou’s hand. He’s saying something that you can’t pick up, but you don’t care enough to. Rage bubbled beneath your skin. I’ve made it this far. I survived. I can do this.

Storming off, you walk on the trail. Each step you take is filled with fury and steam, gallons upon gallons of boiling emotions that you can’t wait to scream into the night.

When you walk along the curves, twists, and turns of the trail, you don’t picture the nights you spent running up the path with Midoriya. You don’t envision locks of green rooted with black bouncing with each step, galaxies of freckles or the craters you call dimples. Those stupidly bright red shoes the color of maraschino cherries aren’t what form in your mind as you stare at the ground, watching one foot go in front of the other.

Instead, those memories are replaced with the days you spent drinking yourself into oblivion, desperate to drown your sorrows. Flashes and flickers of empty beer bottles strewn across patches of damp, crushed and curled grass play in your head. The sight of filthy and grimy white tiles and a pair of shoes dragging themselves repeat in your head like a broken tape, the beep of a scanner continuously breaks each train of coherent thought that attempts to enter your head.

“‘Would that be all?’”

Thousands of voices ask, some more feminine, some more masculine, some exactly in-between or strewn off into the left or right. Their faces are blurs and unrecognizable blends, obtuse and acute shapes. Their noses are thin, thick, long, short, stout, round, curved up or down, broken or centered perfectly. Their faces are long, round, slender, puffy, soft, rough, bony, or chubby. It’s angles and curves, proportions and disproportions. There’s marks— dots, lines, squiggles, blobs— imperfections in their eyes, but they’re just shapes in yours. Their strands of hair are slicked back, falling forward, parted down the middle, sides, sticking up, down, left and right, or to the side. Their eyes come in different shapes— circles, ovals, diamonds, almonds, pistachios. The outlines are round, big, small, sharp, soft, thin, delicate, tough.

There’s billions of them.

But you never cared enough to truly study their features, instead opting to let a hum and snatch the alcohol from the counter, disappearing in the night.

Now, you wonder if you had cared to stare them in the eyes for a moment longer, to peer past the veil of darkness before your eyes, would you have been saved? Would you have been stopped in your tracks, staring at glistening eyes filled with life, youth, and humanity, disturbed at your disgusting, reckless behavior?

“No one could have saved you,” the voice reminds. “No one can save you. No one will save you.”

Your blood boils and the sense of reconciliation shatters, leaving you sourer than before. Frustrated, you stomp faster, ignoring Bakugou.

The only thing audible is the blood pumping in your veins, the angered huffs from your mouths, and the stomping of your heels against the trail. Each step causes the ends of your shoes to stick further into the soil, making each motion more exerting than last. At the rate you storm up the path, sooner or later fate will bring you down on your knees to kiss the dirt.

With every few feet, the soil beneath your feet hardens. The layers become dryer, returning every step with enough abrupt force to keep you resurfaced. No longer do the pebbles littering the ground sink in; instead, they slide with the specks of dirt, tumbling up and down with the breeze of the wind. You ascend further and further, rise higher and higher. No longer do you fall to your surroundings.

Instead, you rise above them.

“Just like the waves,” the voice beams. “But this time, will you fall below them?”

Time seems to slow to a stop, and you are brought back to reality, frozen in your tracks.

The sea sings its song, the one it always has— the lullaby that sailors fall asleep to and creatures far below the surface awaken for. Each wave crashes against the rocks littered around the cliff wall, the impact of every hit resonating in the air. The droplets of salty water fly high into the air, dropping as fast as they bounced from the cold stone.

The once comforting noises of the deep blue haunt you, seeping into your ears and drowning your heart.

“Don’t step too close to the edge, or you’ll fall off, Princess.”

A sudden warmth blooms on your wrist and when you turn your head, your gaze meets Bakugou’s. Carmine meets (e/c), the two melting into the other.

He wears a cocky grin, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It looks forced, dare you say, nothing like the bright and deadly grin that adorns his face on the battlefield or when he jokes with friends.

You want to ask, “Are you okay?” But your mouth is glued shut and your body is too heavy to move, so you opt to stand in silence with your wrist in his rough palms, allowing the heat of him to bleed into the coldness of you.

“You’re missing the main attraction, sweetheart,” Bakugou nods his head to the side and your gaze follows suit.

Laying a few feet away from you is a picturesque picnic, straight out of any girl’s Pinterest board. There’s a large black blanket laid out with fairy lights spread all around it, lighting up a pathway for you to enter its soft kingdom. Plates of pastries, fruits, and different foods rest around each inch, goading you to come and take a bite. There’s a wooden basket woven to create the finest pattern, a heart, centered in the middle filled with ice and two bottles of what you believe are champagne and wine.

Your stomach lurches and the tea you had earlier churns in delight to make a reappearance from your gut. You swallow thickly.

“Wow,” is all you manage, but you see the corners of Bakugou’s lips turn just a little bit higher at the words. He doesn’t seem to notice your inner turmoil.

“Did you really think he would? After he hid the fact that he knew you were suffering all this time?”

You answer with memories of going out with friends, with him distracting you from your crumbling life after you escaped the hospital. The voice scoffs at each one and with every noise of disappointment, you hole yourself further and further into your mind.

Bakugou gently tugs you forward, leading you to the picnic. Moving to the side, he guides you to sit down, to which you curl your legs into your side. Carefully walking around the fairy lights, he takes a seat, crossing his legs.

The air between the two of you is tense, awkward. None of you make the first move to speak or eat. You just sit in silence with your hands in your lap, fiddling with your fingers. Never once do you dare to peer up and see how Bakugou reacts to the feel of the room.

Selfish.

He makes the move to pick up a piece of food, and you follow suit by grabbing some mochi. At least that would keep you busy.

Bits of conversation fall between you two, but no sparks fly. It’s lifeless and dull— the fireworks that once blew up beside you two now blew up between the two of you, creating a rift greater than the Nile River.

The mochi is soft as it is sticky, refusing to tear from its body. Though, when it finally breaks, it resists your teeth as you chew it slowly, fighting to keep itself whole. The doughy inside burst into your mouth, sweetening your tastebuds.

Though, the saccharine goodness does little to cancel out the bitterness in your heart and the sourness on your tongue.

“You should see the water. Looks gorgeous when you’re up close,” Bakugou sets down a piece of strawberry cake he had bitten through, nearly halfway done. Rising from his position, he extends a hand to you, goading you to follow in his steps. You mindlessly take the bait, allowing him to drag you like a little girl with her dolls.

Each step closer is painstaking. A nasty feeling latches itself onto your mind, eating through the walls of your sanity. Long, thick, silver drills press into the cement, chomping with all its might to destroy the structure.

“Isn’t it just nostalgic?” the voice prances, jumping back and forth in ecstasy. “You and me, just like from day one.”

You wonder if the glass shards from the broken beer bottles remained spread across the plains of grass, nestled deep between each patch of blades. Had others whom trekked these hills let the glass crunch beneath their feet, shattering the sticky, translucent material? Did they ever consider the story behind the pile of broken bottles, wondering if a soul was suffering the way you were? Or did they merely scoff at the sight, commenting about how reckless others were at the sight of haphazardly tossed glasses with the image of a group of teenagers drinking and giggling into the night?

Did they treat it kindly, lifting each individual piece and storing it to toss away? Or did they kick it to the side with a huff, stepping around any other messes nearby?

Would they have believed a soul if they told the story about a woman drowning in her own agony, her own lovesick foolery? Would they have empathized with the lost soul tethered together by a vile voice, haunting her every living moment?

Would they have listened to the soul beneath their shoes and the sky above their heads sing the tale of misery?

“Would you believe them?”

No, you answer, now peering at the water that soared to the edge of the cliff. I wouldn’t have even listened.

The salty liquid crashes against the boulders, flooding every crevice until the dips overflowed, spilling back into the ocean. Algae resurfaces with every wave, creeping further upon the cliff. Different creatures slip from the holes, desperate to escape the vicious cycle of life and Mother Nature.

Some drown, some drift off into the abyss of black, and others survive. It’s as beautiful as it’s painful and horrific.

Life is cruel. Life is unfair. Life is unforgiving.

Life is a rose— deceptively gorgeous with its bright lights, warm skies, cool breezes and pretty organisms. But with every creation comes its thorns— its threats and consequences for such beauty.

Life is you. You are life.

You are living.

Your throat constricts and your fists clench.

The sky is no longer a melting pot of warmth. There are no hues of burgundy, honey, or marmalade. All that lingers in its tracks are the sinister obsidian, with streaks of berry blue and a deep indigo that looks nearly the same as the vantablack that permeates the entirety of the atmosphere surrounding you. It is freezing cold and frigid.

The twinkles of fluorescence in the air are the only symbol of warmth left, but they are just as cold as the world around you is. They never lit up in the cozy tones of color. They were overshadowed, for they thawed under that gentle glow it emitted.

Static trickles into your ears, blocking out the noise of your surroundings. The control of your own body slips from between your fingertips, tipping into the ocean below. The sight of the world around you blurs and finally, you are rendered helpless.

Bile comes up instantly.

The world seems to nearly tip over as you hurl, coughing up all the liquids and food that had once churned within your stomach. Thick, corded arms wrap around your waist, stabilizing you and soothing your pained body.

Choked coughs escape your throat as you are forced to expel all the contents of your stomach, burning your throat. A tang of bitterness is heavy on your tongue and your mouth is impossibly dry. Grabbing at your throat, you perform a poor hand motion of drinking and instantly Bakugou hands you a glass.

It’s clear— it looks close enough to water. You down it.

It’s sweet, bubbly, and nothing like water. Once again, you vomit. It rushes back through your nose and out of your mouth, leaving you shuddering in place. A surprised “Shit!” leaves Bakugou’s mouth and he tugs you to him, rubbing your back with those large calloused palms of his.

You cough, inhaling every bit of air. “You— god— you gave me champagne?”

Bakugou hissed. “I didn’t realize that we didn’t have water— I was trying to help!”

It burns, stings. Your throat is on fire, your chest is constricting on itself and your heart is pounding. The heat of Bakugou only adds to the coldness of your skin, the iciness that seeped from your insides to your skin. Your eyes demand to fall shut, the lids drooping with every breath. The world feels dead around you, your head is heavy, and you are limp.

You are dead. You are a dead man trapped in a living body.

Bakugou shifts. “Are you . . . okay? Fuck— that’s a dumb question but—”

The thumping of Bakugou’s heart brings your eyes to shut. “I thought I was. Yanno, I thought I was recovering and all that. I was making progress. That’s what everyone said.”

A warm finger slides under your eye, brushing the puffy skin gently. “But?”

“I guess I didn’t. Or I did and I fell backwards. Took one step forward and six steps back.” You push your head further into his chest in a poor attempt to allow the exhaustion of your body to seep into the heat and disappear. “Lately, it feels like I’m back to before the hospital. I don’t reach for the beer like I did before, but that misery and hopelessness still lingers within me.”

Does it ever go away? you want to ask. Do I ever heal?

Nobody can answer. Time can only tell. Life can only smile.

You glance up at Bakugou and watch as his face contorts into a confused expression, lost at your words. A sad smile graces your lips. “You know, it was here where it all happened. I don’t think you even knew— I don’t even know how you knew about this spot— but I guess that’s what I get. I mean, it’s what I get for not telling you the entire truth, I guess. The world likes to make people pay for their actions, huh?”

Bakugou remains silent.

“I hate this place. It reminds me of him.” You both are aware of who you’re referring to. “We found it together. When we were kids in UA. Maybe even before, I don’t really remember.”

Bakugou shifts the two of you so you’re both laying down, inching away from the cliff and back to the cloth. He brings his hand to your back, rubbing soft circles and figure eights. You bury your head into his chest, words muffled by his shirt.

“There’s so many memories here. Good and bad. And I kept coming back all this time to relieve them because of him. But he never cared. It’s stupid now— I can’t believe I never saw it. I was holding onto something that had died long ago and I was dying because of it. I think I’m dead now, anyway. I don’t feel alive.”

You choke on your words. “I want it to all go away, Katsuki,” you say plaintively like a child, clutching his shirt. “Please.”

The waves smash against the cliff and you curl closer to him. He’s warm, so impossibly warm, but you can’t seem to seek equilibrium and match temperatures.

The noise won’t be drowned out.

Stop, please. Stop, stop, stop.

“I can’t save you,” he begins.

Your heart falters in your chest. The dam in your eyes splinters, the wood that held the water behind your eyes begging to flood.

“‘M a hero, but some battles aren’t meant to be fought by all.”

You whimper.

“I can try to help you, (Name), but no one can save you. You have to want to get better to heal. It’s not going to be easy and you won’t be alone, but you have to be willing to hold yourself together. We can only support you, but you have to be the change you want to happen.”

He tilts your head to him, pointer finger under your chin. The soft carmine bleeds into the blurry (e/c). “I know you can do it. You’re strong and you flourish even when everyone around you tells you you can’t. You’ve outdone the best of the best in your fields.”

You sniffle. “That was once. Hatsume just made a dumb mistake.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re capable, (Name). But you need to trust and believe in yourself. It’s hard; I know. But you’ve gotta if you want to move on.”

Your lip quivers. “Did— did you know?”

His eyebrow raises.

“About Midoriya?”

His face falls into a neutral expression and you swallow thickly. He nods.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“If I did, would you have listened? I think you knew but refused to accept it.”

You sigh, wiping your eyes. “I guess that’s true.”

Silence settles before he breaks it.

“(Name).”

You look at him and watch as he hesitates, looking away from your eyes before speaking.

“I—”

The words fade into the steady sloshing of the water, drowning into the night.

“Don’t give me that look.”

Kind, cerulean eyes follow the twitch of your fingers as you twirl the ends of your hair between your fingertips, until you let it fall back to its original spot.

She lets out an amused hum, spinning her machina fountain pen between the area where her thumb and pointer finger connected. The expensive pen had a pointed tip with edges sharper than the tip of a freshly-shaven knife, curving beautifully into a fine line. The body of it was a gooey, deep decadent chocolate brown mixed with a tint of crimson and carmine that left a particular shine when placed into the light. Thin strips of white and a blush, baby pink spilled onto the body, twisting and curving until it wrapped around the top of the pen.

Wealthy people, you shiver.

“If you continue to burn holes into the pen, it might as well explode.” She tosses the pen up for good measure, showcasing a number of spins before it slips right between her middle and index finger, securely settling it in a perfect pencil hold. “My late husband bought it for me.“

Your heart twists. “Oh.”

She chuckles, lowering her gaze to the pen held in her right hand. “He always spoiled me with lavish gifts. I was so frugal and stingy when I was younger, but he wanted nothing but the greatest for me. Everything I own now is all from him.”

A thin glaze coats her eyes, the pale sapphire flooding into a deep, engulfing azul. The flecks of silver seem to brighten against the cerulean tint, the blacks of her pupils tracing the intricate lines carefully. Long sections of white hair fall around her face, covering nothing more than the corners of her eyes and the highest end of her cheekbones.

“Is that your quirk?” The question jolts her out of her mind, eyebrows furrowing at your directness. You swallow, peeking at the window to protect your mind from her piercing eyes. “You’re young— or at least you look like it. Your husband passed away. Your quirk must stop you from aging, right? Because you don’t look older than 26 at most.”

There’s shifting in front of you, but your eyes refuse to look back ahead. Embarrassment burns in your cheeks and the fear of overstepping swirls within your gut.

“You should have stayed quiet,” the voice reprimands. “You’re so dumb, (Name).”

I was so dumb, why did I say that? She probably hates me now. She’s going to kick me out and I’m going to be stuck here forever and it won’t stop and—

“You’re more observant than you let on. But you also like to avoid confrontation, don’t you?” It’s not condescending or patronizing; it’s a factual statement— the truth. There’s no tone other than neutrality and genuinity. “That’s why you’re here today. A bit earlier than I expected you to come around, but you did nevertheless.”

Your lips purse. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She picks up the clipboard, flipping through some pages. “You weren’t completely honest about your past when we first began chatting, were you?”

The silence that lingers answers her question.

“Why not?”

You sigh. She smiles.

“I just . . . didn’t want to.”

“You’re not a burden, (Name),” her hand grabs the delicate pen and begins to trace unintelligible shapes onto the paper. “I understand why you closed yourself off. I read your file, you know. Spoke to Dynamight and Deku about you.”

You still.

What?

The knife of dread, fear, and panic slices it’s way into your heart, carefully tracing the outline of your aorta, atriums, and ventricles. The pointed tips glides over each ridge, caressing the soft tissue and flirting with the idea of piercing its way inside, only to send blood spurting everywhere and leave you cold inside out, once again.

She continues. “They both care for you a lot, in their own ways of course. Deku is much more vocal about his concern, but Dynamight is the silent, brooding type. He expresses his concern through his actions and behavior.”

She spoke to them? To him? Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?

Why didn’t Bakugou tell me?

“Yeah,” you breathe out, averting your eyes to the window outside. Your heart palpitates inside your chest. “That, uhm, really sounds like them.”

The sky is a bright blue today, with not a single cloud in sight. Buildings decorate the slopes of blue, with light shades of gray and dark shades of a hybrid of obsidian black and white.

“What a shame,” the voice pouts. “The view is obstructed. Wasn’t it just so lovely?”

The collar of your shirt is suddenly a tad bit too high, too tight, and suffocating. It clings to your throat, wrapping its fuzzy tendrils around the base, before slowly gliding across the expanse of your skin.

“Doesn’t it just remind you of those beautiful waters? The one near the cliffs, you know. Don’t you just want to go for a swim?” the voice purrs. “I, for one, think it sounds refreshing.”

The tentacles speed their movements, rushing their efforts to close their tendrils around your throat. The inky black swallows your throat, leaking into your lungs. Faster, they move. Tighter, they squeeze. Together, they suffocate you.

“It’s not fun when you’ve gone right back, y’know. Takes the fun out of your misery. Now, you’re all lifeless like a doll. You have no hero to save you. Just what will you do, (Name)?”

The sight in front of your eyes fades from a lovely sky and high rise buildings to a murky, endless bank of water screaming at you to fall below. Like a siren’s call, the kelp sings to you by teasingly waving its green body, luring you down below.

Sweat pools on your forehead, threatening to drip down your neck and onto your shirt. You can see it all now.

You remember it all now— vividly.

The beer. The cliff. The staff worker. The evening sky, the water, the spray of the salty sea, the stabs of the grass. The incessant nagging of the voice— the reminder of him, everything about him and how little you meant to him.

It all washes over you like a tide, overflowing with the means of drowning you to snap you back to reality.

“‘Wake up!’” it screams.

“—(Name)?”

Virdescent eyes bore into yours, pupils dilating as they continue to hold your gaze. The flecks of obsidian and rim of a deep, mysterious amethyst capture your attention.

The kelp twirls.

“(Name)?” A gentle, unnatural hand places itself upon your shoulder. The aroma of distilled rose water permeates your nostrils. “(Name), are you okay?”

The toxic green melts, burning through to reveal a set of pure, bright ruby red eyes.

The sky glimmers.

You blink.

She grins.

He doesn’t react.

You don’t know if that’s good or bad, really.

But the words continue to tumble.

“I— I loved him. That’s what hurts, Katsuki. I loved this man who returned an unobtainable love and I was too blind to see it.”

How foolish am I? How stupid do I have to be to not have seen this further?

“How stupid are you, (Name)?” the voice parrots.

It hurts. You’re tired. Everything is dark. The sky, the grass, your vision, your mind, your thoughts.

The stars in the sky are so faint, so dull. You miss their shine.

You miss the bright lens that were placed above your eyes, lighting up the sky.

Slowly, your world crumbled. Now, it was tumbling, shattering into millions of pieces.

Your chest tightens, and it feels as if you are back in the office, curled into a ball on the verge of suffocation.

You can remember the warm traces of tears spilling from your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. If you close your eyes, it feels as if you’re there, in those stuffy office clothes with the haphazardly thrown stacks of papers and splayed out tools, shattered pieces of glass, and a throbbing heart.

You’re dying. Lifeless. Hopeless.

I just want it all to end, please, please, please—

Warm hands snap you out of your thoughts. Large, calloused hands cup your face, tracing the dull tips of its fingers along the outline of your jaw, thumbs circling comfortingly under the bags of your eyes.

It’s cozy and loving, like warm cider on a chilly autumn day. Your heart pounds in your chest in excitement. Goosebumps erupt on your skin, and an older, kinder voice whispers at you to simply open your eyes.

When you feel the tickling of hair against your head, your eyes flutter open. A warm head bumps against yours, resting itself in the very center of your forehead, as if it fit there. The remedial hands of warmth continue their trek of tracing the outline of your features, encapturing your face in their hold.

Boring into your eyes are Katsuki’s, in all their cherry red glory.

“Bakugou . . . ?”

A hint of doubt flickers across his features. The corners of his eyes crease, and the middle of his brows furrow.

“You’re a cruel monster, (Name).”

“Always hated when you called me that, y’know,” is all he replies with.

He’s close.

“Too close,” the voice reiterates.

Despite the warmth radiating from Katsuki, goosebumps erupt on your skin like a volcano’s molten lava bursting through the surface to cover the earth’s surface in its flames.

Is it from the cold?

“No,” a foreign voice answers.

Red eyes flit to your lips and a shaky exhale leaves your nose.

Is it anticipation?

“Yes,” it responds again.

“Lean in,” it goads. “Give in. Don’t hold back.”

“You’ll hurt him, just like you hurt yourself,” the voice chimes. Your heart plunges into your stomach

The quiet lull of the other voice drowns out the terrors of the voice. “Be his. Just for tonight, let him have you.”

“Okay,” you breathe. The doubt and hesistance leaves you.

He press his lips against yours.

The kiss is a warm caress, one that lets warmth blossom on your own. It’s soft but so sweet, so gooey like maple syrup dripping down your throat. A tinge of cinnamon bleeds into your mouth and the smell of caramel floods your nose.

You pull away first, but Bakugou’s hand keeps your head touching his, staring into the other’s eyes.

Am I going to hurt him? Is this fair to him? Am I using him?

“You’re a horrible person, (Name),” the voice says. You want to agree.

The foreign voice speaks up. “Listen, (Name). Stay quiet and listen, please.”

“I know you still love him.”

His voice breaks and you feel your heart follow.

No, I don’t. You want to answer.

“But how much of that is true?”

You’re not sure.

“I know how much he matters to you. Izuku matters to me too.”

You want to cry.

“But I won’t give up on you. I never have and never will. Not— not unles you want me to. I won’t chase you if you don’t want me to. But if you’re willing to have me, even just for a bit to let me love you whole, I’ll stay.”

“Katsuki,” your voice breaks. The tears flow. Calloused fingers rub off the tears.

“He may have been your first love, but I intend to be your last.”

You panic. “But what if it takes too long? What if I take too long to lose feelings and you have to try again to make me fall in love with you?”

A warmth envelops you. “As long as you want me, I’ll work as hard for as long as I have in this life to be your final love.”

The heat is familiar and gentle; it doesn’t set your skin aflame, but instead adds a slight increase with every second, adjusting you.

It’s accommodating and loving.

It feels like home.

“It’s him, isn’t it? It always was.”

I was just too blind to see it.

The new voice whispers, “He could never hold it against you; he would always forgive you. All he wants and needs is you. Remember what Mitsuki said? You’re his everything.”

And he is the same to me.

——————————-——————————————

Midoriya is kind.

“Are you sure that’s all you want to order?” A large, scarred hand settles itself upon your smaller one, rubbing the area of your wrist with slow, gentle strokes.

Midoriya is kind in the way that he would help an elderly lady cross the street with her hand wrapped around his arm, guiding her safely to the other side. He is kind that when a child cried in the middle of the sidewalk all alone, he would approach them with nothing but a gentle smile on his face and kneel down to their height, offering his help.

Midoriya Izuku is a good man with a big heart and a bright smile. He is the sickly saccharine type of person— a man who despite being made of hard muscle, is truly all marshmallow and gumdrops.

He is a glorious man who chose to devote his life to saving the world— but that in itself is what made him so utterly selfish.

“He loves you, (Name).” the soft voice whispers. “Do you know that?”

His love is not enough for me to stay any longer.

“I ordered a whole bowl of pasta, Midoriya. I think that’s more than enough,” you grin, sliding your arm out of his grasp. He pouts like a kicked puppy who was just scolded by their own for eating one too many dog treats.

Maybe long ago, your heart would have squeezed at the expression. Now, no butterflies erupt in your stomach. No heat spreads to your neck and to the tips of your cheeks. All that churns in your stomach is the acidic sips of a mocktail you had and the glass of water you downed before going to meet Midoriya.

“You know, you can still call me Izuku,” Midoriya begins, retracting his hand from your side of the table. You dig your fork into the pasta, swirling it around in the plate. “I’m still your Izuku, right?”

What am I supposed to say to that?

You peer up, watching as his emerald irises swim with a fondness and intimacy you could only picture thousands of women would die to see Izuku Midoriya, Japan’s greatest hero, to gaze at them with.

But to you, it is meaningless.

“Do you pity him?” the gentle voice asks. “Do you pity yourself for how blindly you behaved as him, too?”

In front of you, you hear a group of girls squeal, “Oh my gosh, it’s Pro-Hero Deku!”

A big bite of pasta with a pointed smile is all you offer Midoriya as he turns to face the approaching group of gals murmuring in excitement, asking to take photos.

At least the pasta is good.

——————————-——————————————

“Say it,” the voice utters.

The city lights at the ripe time of midnight are a beautiful sight, filling the world with a plethora of icy and earthy tones. Giggly couples stumble down the street, hand in hand, high off of joy and young love. Teenagers skate down the sidewalks, hollering profanities and excited cheers into the night sky.

The whole world is bright and alive around you, despite the pit of black surrounding it.

“Will you let this moment slip? After all you’ve gone through?”

Midoriya’s hand once again reaches for yours, scarred fingers entangling themselves with yours. The pupils in the greens of his eyes seem to shrink as your palms make contact, and a faint blush sprouts on his cheeks.

In the moonlight, Midoriya Izuku is alive.

He is glowing brightly in the light of the city, with his unruly mess of curls draping over the tops of his eyes.

But beside him, you stand in the darkness of his shadows. In the presence of the Symbol of Peace, Izuku Midoriya, you are nothing more than the spirit that he is championed to destroy.

Once again, you are nothing more than a lost soul falling into the hands of death.

“Is that all you will ever be? Will you let all of your hard work dwindle to waste? Will you fall back into his arms only to repeat this same miserable cycle?”

Tips of blurry blonde spikes materialize in the depths of your mind. The crashing of waves against rocks bleeds into your ears and the pricks of blades of grass send tingles exploding across your skin.

“How much will it take until you truly break, (Name)?”

A pair of loving carmine eyes stare back at you, a bright twinkle in the corners of its pupils. They are a reminder of the gentle kiss and the tender love you had experienced only days before.

‘I want you, Katsuki.’

He had cried, when he heard those words.

‘Please, will you let me love you the way you loved me?’

You never thought you could reduce a man as powerful as Bakugou into a mess of joyous tears. But life has a habit of surprising people in the most unexpected ways.

I’m sorry, Midoriya, you long to say. I’m sorry you are slipping down the path you forced me to tumble down. But I’ll save you in the way you failed to save me in before. I’ll right your wrongs.

Not for you, but for me.

“I can’t do this,” you rip your hand out of his grasp, stepping back. “I can’t do this to you, Midoriya.”

He jumps, startled by your abrupt movements. He opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt.

“I can’t live with you in my life— not anymore.”

“(Name), what? What are you saying right now?” Midoriya reaches his hand out to anchor you— or himself— but you widen the gap between you two.

“I’m talking about you— I’m talking about us,” you gasp. The waves slosh in the bottomless pit of the sea. “You can’t tell me you didn’t see it like everyone else did. You can’t lie to me and say what you did wasn’t purposeful!”

Boots smush into the wet mud, slipping off the bottom of your foot. “_____________!” Midoriya exclaims.

The beating of your heart smashes against your ribcage and blood rushes to your face. “You were given so many chances, Izuku,” you cry as the tears finally slip. The bottle fissures and the dam explodes; the beast is unleashed. “You gave up. You gave up on yourself, you gave up on me, you gave up on us. You always have— you always will. You never took a single chance because you never cared enough!”

There are tears streaming down his own face, distorting the sight of those freckles you once adored so much. You had once believed them to be kisses from the gods themselves. Now, they seemed nothing more than a painter’s deception of beauty.

Midoriya weeps. “________________!”

No longer do you crumble under the weight of Midoriya’s tears. You stand proudly under the pour of your own.

“You’re forgetting someone, aren’t you, (Name)?” the voice curls around you, peering at you gleefully. She giggles. “You should go and surprise him, (Name).”

Katsuki. Your heart shines, despite the pain of the tears.

You turn away from Midoriya, sparing nothing more than a turn if your head. “Thank you for giving me the story of a lifetime, but this is the end of us. Our chapter closes today, Izuku.”

Around you, the city blurs. “The story of us wasn’t meant to last a lifetime. It was meant to be for only a moment.“

And slowly, so does Midoriya. You laugh, “But it is one I’ll never forget.”

Stuffing your hands into your coat, you move away, preparing to cross the street. But you pause before your foot meets the pavement.

“Midoriya,” you murmur, glancing side-to-side as the cars fly by, before looking back at him.

He stares at you, petrified, as if you were a ghost of his past.

Maybe, you are.

Maybe, you have truly become another ghost in his world.

“Do you remember me?”

The Symbol of Peace stares at you like a deer in headlights, frozen and lost. For the first of many times, Izuku Midoriya is clueless.

A smile plays on your lips.

“Who knew you could bring the most powerful man to his knees?” she pinches your cheek affectionately.

Fractured excuses and phrases of rambles slip past his lips, sending circles spinning upon circles.

You know the truth.

So does he.

“Don’t think about it too hard, Izuku.”

As you step onto the street, the moonlight falls upon you, covering Midoriya in its pit of dark.

Finally, you burn brighter than the stars above.

——————————-——————————————

The clock reads 2:37 AM.

You remember this road and the corner where Bakugou caught your arm.

You remember running and running until you got to the convenience store, pouring liquor while sitting on the hill. Downing bottle after bottle, bleeding away into a pool of water.

You remember the lights flashing, the salty spray of sea against your skin.

But you don’t remember the feeling or the pain of your broken heart.

It’s all gone.

It’s over.

The memories remain, the sleepless nights, the sober-less dreams.

But the pain does not.

For the first time, it’s gone; the wound has healed. The rift in your heart has shut.

“Call him.”

Frozen fingers reach into the depths of your purse, unlatching the metal clip to reach your phone as you trek down the street. With a few swipes, you press the call button.

Two rings pass before you hear a click and a groggy, gruff voice. A warm grin plays upon your lips.

“Hi, Katsuki.”

You chatter into the night, walking with a pep in your step. Muffled groans can be heard on the other side.

The voice sighs wistfully, resting her head on your shoulder. “Young love,” she twirls her hair around her finger, lips curling into a pleased smile. “How romantic it is, to be so young and utterly in love.”

Unwrapping her limbs from yours, she slips away into the dark, melting into the shadows of the moon. The wisps of her hair fade into a glimmer that twinkles in the streams of light and her body blows away with the breeze of the night.

You check the time in your phone.

2:37 AM, the clock reads.

The edges of your eyes crinkle.

He knew.

——————————-——————————————

#© platrom, plot / writing / banners & headers. do not repost, reblogs are appreciated! please consider leaving a comment and a heart! <3

#izuku midoriya x reader #x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #deku x reader #bnha angst #bnha reader insert #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #midoriya x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #mha x reader #mha x female reader #bakugou fluff #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x you #bnha x you #deku x fem!reader #deku x you

[hhonghu]

I am resisting the urge to bombard you with sub yandere thirsts while you're working and will limit it to only one

Sub yandere Kabukimono

He has absolutely no idea what he's feeling or why he's feeling it, but he knows he really wants you to stay with him- maybe Niwa gives him a bit of encouragement and our lovely, naïve Kabukimono takes it the obsessive wrong way?

More of a general idea than a thirst, but I really really like it

[Thirst]!

hehehe don't be shy to share more anon >:) i'm happy to see my inbox from anyone and i love this idea of sub yandere kabukimono

oh, poor kabukimono.. he feels so conflicted! he doesn't understand what he's feeling in his chest, it frustrates him! he just love's you so much, it feels wrong when you pay attention to someone else. you have have him! you have him by your side, why do you look somewhere else? the frustration gets to him so much that even niwa notices it. he couldn't help but ask what was bothering him and kabukimono almost cries out. "niwa.. i'm so upset.. [name]..", "did they do something wrong?" kabukimono shakes his head, no no! you can never do anything wrong, it was just.. "niwa.. it's just i feel so sad.. i really love [name].. i want them by my side all the time, i don't want them to keep looking at anyone else.. niwa, what do i do?"

niwa felt pity on him, he guessed that kabukimono was just feeling overwhelmed for what he feels for you. "uh.. kabukimono listen, what you feel is normal for [name]. they love you back, don't they? they love you just as much you love them, there's no need to be insecure." but kabukimono shakes his head again, it is not enough. "niwa.. you don't understand.. this feeling.. i want them all for myself, there is no one else suited for them other than me. no one can compare to me, ever." niwa's eyes widen, kabukimono changed. but he shakes it away, chalking it up to his intense love for you.

"i'm sure that you're right, you don't worry about it much. they wouldn't confess their love for you if they didn't feel the same way. they know your worth to them, kabukimono and you've proven yourself that." niwa pats his back to add for comfort, "their yours, everyone knows that. if you want, you can ask [name] to prove it to you." niwa thinks that kabukimono just needed reassurance from you, afterall you were popular with people and he was just as a student learning a craft, so it was understandable that kabukimono would feel rather insignificant if there was other people next to you most of the time.

kabukimono thought for a second before agreeing with niwa. that's right, [name] could prove to me that i'm the only one for them and no one else. kabukimono thanked niwa and decided to come visit you tonight.

when night came, he set out to your home and knocked. he didn't tell you he was coming over so you assumed it was someone else and opened the door to reveal a seemingly desperate kabukimono and lett him in. "ah, darling, it's you. you should've—" you cut yourself off, feeling his body crashing into yours. you wrapped your arms around him before your back hits the ground making your groan in pain. "o-ow! darling, is something the matter?" he nuzzles his head to your chest and nods, pitiful sounds can be heard escaping his lips. you lay your head down on the floor and brought your hand to his head, carding through his hair with your fingers. "what's wrong?"

"[name].. i'm yours.. please.. i can't take it anymore... you can't have anyone else.. i—" he hiccups as pretty tears slide down his cheek, his hands roaming around your body and pawing at your shirt as if you'll disappear. you glace at him confused before cooing at him, how cute. "[na-name], please.. say i'm yours.. i belong to you.. that hic— there can't be anyone else, right?" his glossy eyes bore back into yours and you nod. "of course, there isn't anyone anyone else i want than you. i love you and you love me, don't you?" he nods, sniffling at your words. "you're mine. your heart, your mind, and your body is all mine. you're a smart boy, darling. you belong to me and no one else." you can feel him hump your thigh, not so subtly rocking his hips as you keep saying words of possession to him. kabukimono felt his entire feel warm, he needed to hear more. he wanted more of you to stake claim of him.

he sat up on your thighs and began to loosen his shirt, pulling it down to reveal his already hardened nipples. his hands grabs yours, slowly dragging until it reaches his chest, his fingers guiding your thumb to press on his hard nubs, making him moan. "i-it's not enough.. prove it.. play with me, [name]. do anything to me, please.." you stare in awe before smiling.

"of course, darling."

heheheeh yandere kabukimono innocently feeling sily to kill people bc they're a little too close to you lol. thank you anon for the food!! ^^

#ems.writes #ems.nsfw #ems.thirsts #scaramouche smut #sub scaramouche #sub!scaramouche #kabukimono smut #sub kabukimono #sub!kabukimono