#him fanboying about the plant that grabbed her and she made that fucking face

[skele8rity]

watched the first episode of dungeon meshi and its only SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT from what i thought it would be but also like i already get it, i get why im seeing it here everywhere from everyone i even share minimal spaces with, youre all so right

#laios and marcille are so so funny #him fanboying about the plant that grabbed her and she made that fucking face #i almost choked i laughed so hard at the close up 😭😭😭 #'i upset her again ):' you are all so perfect and weird. #chilchuck has been chiller than i expected. i thought hed be angrier off the bat. #hes just so. he just says it. like yeah obviously. #senshi is senshi you just have to meet him. you will like him #i want him to teach me. how to cook also #skelly speaks #oh. also sorry falin ): i didnt know that would be. the first episode fjskf im shook

[moonlight-prose]

BADLANDS | THREE

a/n: i don't want to jinx it but i'm on a fucking roll here people. i have never churned out a fic series faster in MY LIFE. miles teller i would like to personally thank you for the inspo. couldn't have done it without you and your mustache my dude. so there are only two more parts to go and i know exactly what's going to happen. things are about to get a little messy for panther and rooster. this is semi edited but not beta read so hopefully this chapter makes sense!

reblogs, comments, and feedback is always welcome!!

i don't have taglists anymore, but i do have a library blog.

summary: being shit out of luck happens to everyone, but you seemed to be a special case.

word count: 5.7k+

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader (callsign panther)

warnings: not explicit (we're getting there), cussing, angst, arguing, rooster being a jealous little shit, ptsd mention, anxiety, panic attack, catastrophe, near death experiences.

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“Good morning aviators.” Mavericks voice brought your attention back to the front where he stood, watching all of you standing in line outside.

The blazing heat was starting to make you sweat underneath your flight suit, but you forced yourself to pay attention. Phoenix stood beside you, Bob on her other side. She turned to glance at you, an eyebrow raising over her sunglasses as she asked you the silent question you all seemed to be wondering today. What the fuck are we doing today? Normally you would be inside already, but apparently they wanted the pilots to wait until Maverick arrived.

He began to head towards the building, the others falling into step behind him—Hangman right on his heels. You had half a mind to bark in his direction, but thought better of it. It would just give him even more of an incentive to be up your ass. He was already pissed that you and Bradley were being considered as team leader.

“I don’t know about you but I’m pretty sure they’re taking us in to kill us,” you whispered, trying to stifle your laughter as Phoenix elbowed you in the side.

“There’d be no point in that.” Bob piped up behind you, managed to duck around Fanboy and end up on your other side.

“Oh yeah why’s that?” you asked, peering over your sunglasses at him.

“Because I’m pretty sure Hangman’s already planned our deaths.” He shrugged. “Would be a shame to let all that trouble go to waste.”

Your mouth parted, lips spreading into a wide smile. “Robert Floyd, did you just make a joke at the expense of Hangman?” His cheeks turned red, head ducking as you swung an arm over his shoulder and leaned against him. “No, this is good! This is progress. Does this mean you consider me as your friend?”

Phoenix scoffed. “Don’t get too cocky Panther.”

“You can’t possibly think he likes you better.”

“Well I’m the one in control up there,” she said, gesturing to the sky.

You however turned back to Bob, taking in his slightly baffled expression. “We can’t let her do that to us, Bob. We’re pals.”

“That’s enough chit chat for today,” Maverick called, grabbing your attention as the three of you headed into the room.

The room was where you’d been briefed on the mission before and you figured new tactics were being taught today. They made sure to wait until the very last second to tell you what exactly that was. Taking off your sunglasses, you slipped them into your front pocket before planting a kiss on Bob’s cheek and taking a spot in front of Fanboy. He and Payback were in the midst of having a silent conversation—the worry on their face prominent enough for even you to see with one small glance.

Shifting, you caught Hangman’s gaze as he shot you an all too cocky wink. To which you returned in kind with a lovely gesture of your middle finger. He wanted to throw you off your game just as he did with everyone else here, but it seemed you and Bradley got the worst of it. He didn’t like competition. That much was clear.

You and Bradley still hadn’t spoken since last night. Hell, you’d hardly seen him all morning, and you had half a mind to ask him why he left. You weren’t mad. Just surprised. Turning your head even further you managed to meet his gaze head on, an icy stare being sent your way. He looked at you like last night never happened, like you were back to being enemies, and it caused your heart to sink in your chest. Quickly, you turned back to the front, placing your sole focus on Maverick as he pulled up the mission plans.

Bradshaw would have to wait for now.

Your attention went to the screen, as you watched Maverick step back and give the attention to the other men in the room. Even while you sat there—eyeing what you knew were the new plans—you could feel Bradley’s gaze burning a hole in the back of your head. There was something up with him today and while you wanted to ask what was up, you simply allowed yourself to settle into the role of being a pilot once more. You were familiar with it.

Being a pilot oddly enough…felt safe.

Bradley on the other hand was a storm. One you weren’t sure you were ready to brave quite yet.

Snapping back to reality you caught the final bits and pieces of their explanation and felt a knot begin to form in your stomach and grow by the second. The mission was now being moved up. A decision they clearly didn’t like, given the grave expressions they wore and you could feel the tension in the room rise. Fanboy and Payback quickly began talking to one another about what had to be done and you were greeted with a flash of you and Hunter.

For a brief moment, you wished Hunter was there with you.

He’d know how to fly this mission—he’d know how to get you home safely.

You however were drowning with the intensity of it all; making you wonder why you were even considered for this mission in the first place.

“You’ve now got two weeks. Which means you’ll be moving on with your training.”

“Oh shit,” you muttered, hearing the others begin to mumble to one another.

“Sir how are we supposed to move on when no one here even accomplished the canyons?” you asked, glancing at Maverick who was busy looking at someone else.

“Well lieutenant there’s no other options at this point.”

Hangman scoffed beside you, his eyes glinting with enough malice to remind you that he still hated your guts. You were half tempted to punch the smirk off his face, but figured it wasn’t worth getting reprimanded. Still…he was on thin fucking ice.

The man stepped back, allowing Maverick to take over and you shot a glance at Bradley over your shoulder. He was the only one who made it to the target last time, but he was behind schedule—a fact Hangman refused to let him forget. He kept his gaze straight, jaw clenched as he sat upright in his chair, his posture stiff enough to almost seem painful.

You gave up and turned back to the front, listening intently as Maverick explained the parameters of the second half of the mission. A fact that let you know if you didn’t get miracle one right, you were sure as hell not getting near accomplishing miracle number two. Tapping your finger on the desk, you felt someone’s gaze come back to you. Figuring it was Phoenix, you stayed put—waiting for Maverick to finish his lecture.

“Today we begin working on hitting the targets.”

“How the hell is that supposed to go down?” Hangman asked, the drawl of his voice exhibiting peak cockiness.

“The pilot would have to be going at intense speed,” you replied, fixing your gaze on him. “I’m sure you have enough experience with that.”

He smiled. “Do you want to find out Panther?”

“I’d rather crash my F-18.”

The comment was ignored, but you could hear Phoenix snort in the background, no doubt proud of you for putting Hangman in his place. He needed to be knocked down a peg or two. So, you risked turning around, winking at her quickly before your gaze was drawn to the man glaring at you across the way. Bradley watched you with enough ire in his stare to send a chill down your spine—your eyes widening briefly before you shifted in your seat.

You were too afraid to ask what his problem was; the circumstances of last night aside, Bradley and you were still toeing the line of hatred and something akin to love.

“Like you haven’t already,” he snipped.

Narrowing your eyes you felt your hand clench into a fist on instinct, prepared to defend what little honor and reputation you had left. If it came down to it, you’d bring him to the floor. Perfectly happy to land a few hits in before someone dragged you away.

“That’s enough Hangman,” Maverick snapped.

He sighed, shifting in his seat like he was bored of all of this, but you could see the wheels working in his brain. You’d known pilots like him before. Seen how they enjoyed picking and prodding until their competition was left in the dust. Except Hangman was different. He knew things that he wasn’t sharing yet and you could already feel the destructiveness of his actions heading everyone’s way.

“No one has ever experienced a mission like this,” Hangman started to speak again, the toothpick between his teeth being moved with every word. “Not even Maverick.”

You had to begrudgingly admit that he had a point there. Maverick’s past experience was extensive to say the least, but it wasn’t anything like this. If a pilot survived this, they would be able to make it out of almost anything, but that was the thing.

The pilot had to survive.

This mission didn’t come across as something one would walk away from unscathed, and that’s what terrified you.

Which one of you in this room wouldn’t make it home in the end?

You had half a mind to turn and look at the man you were most worried about, but could already feel his eyes on you. Even though he would never admit it. He was just as afraid as you were that this thing between the two of you—whatever it was—wouldn’t be around after the two weeks were up.

Grabbing your helmet, you headed outside and towards the jets that were lined up. Unease had filled your body the second they announced having to move on with the mission’s training and it had yet to fade. They were giving you no time at all to figure out what had to be done in order to survive and it seemed that you were meant to accomplish turning miracles into reality. You were shit out of luck a long time ago—already having lost one pilot.

You just hoped that the others still had some luck left to spare.

“Fuck,” you spit as your sunglasses fell on the floor.

You were barely able to handle the first parts of training and yet now they expected you to succeed in something everyone else deemed impossible. Hangman’s words rang in your head from inside of the room. Not even Maverick had experienced a mission this demanding, this grueling. Yet they wanted whomever they picked to come out of his perfectly fine and ready to keep going.

The parameters for the flight weren't even the hardest part. Hitting the target would be your main goal. You fought against the doubt that filled your mind as you tilted your head up, squinting at how bright it was outside.

You did your best to keep your demeanor calm given the circumstances. After all it was simply training today—nothing bad could go wrong. Yet why did you have a horrible feeling you were going to be eating your words later? Before you could grab your sunglasses off the floor, someone else did it for you. The black—now slightly scratched—aviators being pressed into your hands.

Bradley of all people stood in front of you, all ready and prepared to get into his F-18. He would be with you, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy on the first run of training. Four jets, two leaders. You could feel the anxiety rush through your veins at the very thought of it. Instead of giving into the panic, you chose to focus on Bradley with a glow of sunlight around him. It was unfair how beautiful he looked standing there doing absolutely nothing. Really it felt rather rude. But you shoved those thoughts away.

You needed to remain focused on the task at hand; not on your silly relationship problems.

“Thanks for last night,” you said, unnerved at the way he wouldn’t take off his sunglasses to meet your eyes. “You didn’t have to—”

His hands latched on your upper arms, pushing you slightly backwards until you were pressed against the side of his jet. His eyes were covered, but you recognized the stoic expression on his face. The same one he wore a few nights ago at the bar. Something was clearly bothering him and yet instead of talking about it—he pushed it away, focusing his irritations on you instead. You were right last night. This relationship—whatever it consisted of—was far from being healthy in any way shape or form.

So much so that it made your head spin.

“You need to back down from trying to be leader,” he said, causing all of the hope in your chest to crash down into your stomach.

“What?” Had you been remembering last night wrong? Was him helping you all a figment of your imagination?

“They’re going to pick soon and I need you to let me take it from here.”

A sour taste filled your mouth as you regarded him with a withering stare. “Are you being serious? Or are you just fucking with me?” Bradley had gone from loving to suddenly picking up that long forgotten fight you shared with him this time around. “Am I remembering last night wrong or are you suddenly back to being a dick?”

He made no move to back away from you—his face so close that if you leaned up just a tad you could kiss him. Or slap him. In all honesty the latter sounded like the most appealing action right at this moment. He was asking you to tank your career by backing off, by letting him take what you worked so hard to gain. Where the fuck was your Bradley? The man who held you last night until you slept comfortably beside him. 

It was clear to you now that the person who stood before you wasn’t him.

“We both know who the better pilot is here.”

You shoved against him, trying to get him to back off, but he barely even shifted on his feet. “Fuck you. I’ve earned my place here and I’m not going to have you of all people trying to take a position that I’m clearly competent in. I have just as much claim on being leader as you do Bradshaw.”

It seemed his mind—his whole demeanor—had shifted into him being an asshole again; the Bradley you cared for now gone. Oh how you wished he’d simply give up this petty fight and allow you both to get on with your lives. He dropped his hands from your waist, giving you some room to cool off, but he was far from done. There was something he wasn’t telling you. Something that was clearly bugging him, and you couldn’t discern if it regarded you or not. You considered the possibility that he was just having an off day; that he woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

“Is there something going on with you and Floyd?”

Until he said that.

“What?” you laughed, unsure if you ever heard him correctly.

“Are you and Floyd starting something? Because I want to know I’m wasting my time here.”

You reared back, your mouth dropping open in disbelief. A white hot anger filled your veins, as the realization finally settled in your mind. He was jealous. Bradley was jealous of one fucking kiss on the cheek meant to be friendly. You hardly even knew Bob other than a small conversation here and there. How could he even consider it when last night he was in your bed? Yet again, rather than ask you about the situation calmly, he picked at the wounds that were still healing. He treated you like an enemy rather than a friend and you couldn’t stop the doubts from flooding into your mind.

Was this it? Was this all there would be between the two of you?

Precious moments of comfort that were found few and far between, and at the end of it all a raging anger that would still peek its head out more often than you expected. More often than it should. You wanted Bradley; wanted to be with him. But you weren’t sure how many times you could handle being treated this way. You couldn’t tell anymore if he even loved you, or if this was simply a relationship of convenience for him until he shipped off to his next mission. 

Meanwhile you might never truly heal from the wounds he reopened.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You really believe that Bob and I…that we’re…what? Together? What the fuck Bradshaw?” You pressed a hand to your forehead—your heart twisting violently in your chest. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“Doing what?’ he asked. He was clearly oblivious to the war of emotions battling it out inside your mind and for some reason that only made you angrier.

“Loving you!” His posture stiffened and you heard him inhale sharply at your admission of the truth—finally. “I don’t know if loving you is worth all of this back and forth Bradley. I’m so tired. I’m tired of pretending to hate you and hoping that you were pretending too. But clearly you’re not. Not if you think I would willingly choose to be with another man when you know how I feel about you.”

“Kitten—”   

His words were no longer registered in your mind. “I’m sorry for leaving, but if I remember that night correctly only one of us actually said their feelings out loud. And it sure as shit wasn’t you.”

You caught the sight of Maverick heading your way, helmet in his hands and fell back into your professional ways. There was a mission to complete, a job to be done, and you couldn’t allow petulant emotions to get in your way. They would only hinder you in the end. Wiping your face clean of any expressions, you straightened your spine. Bradley’s mouth was still opening and closing—the words unable to get out. Except you knew the truth.

He wouldn’t have to force the words out if he truly meant them.

Nodding his way, you grabbed your helmet from where it fell to the floor. The black color now matched the emotions that flooded your body the longer Bradley stayed quiet. Maverick gestured for you to follow him and you felt like there was a ball in your throat that wouldn’t go away. Your heart sank even more the longer you stood there watching Bradley process your words, but you had done your part. You told him the truth. There was nothing more for you to give him.

“I’ll see you up there Rooster,” you said for the first time in years. The name felt odd on your tongue.

He flinched as if you’d slapped him across the face and you wanted to feel sorry about it. Only you couldn’t.

Not anymore.

“You are a go,” Maverick’s voice echoed in your ear as the jet flew through the air.

Phoenix and Bob were right behind you, Rooster having taken the front for Payback and Fanboy. After climbing into your jet and only acknowledging him through his callsign, you simply allowed yourself to become numb to your emotions one last time. Today would be routine, just like every day. You would flip the switches, bring the jet into the air and follow the directions Maverick laid out, because that’s the only way you would survive finally cutting Bradley Bradshaw off.

For good.

You couldn’t go on like this. Being wracked with guilt for leaving him all those years ago, only to suffer the brutal consequences in the end by his hand. Love wasn’t supposed to be this painful. Here you thought he’d forget your existence, move on and get married, but instead you were left with a man who didn’t seem to know what he wanted. Let alone if what he wanted was you.

“You with me Phoenix?” you asked through the radio, pushing the control stick forward to remain close behind Payback and Fanboy.

“I’m with you Panther.”

Bob’s voice followed after hers, telling you exactly how far out the target was and like you were on autopilot you responded with the reminders to check his lasers. If you missed the first round, you’d have to try again. Until eventually you got it right every time, but your gut instinct told you something wasn’t exactly right. You were stupid enough to shove it away—having told yourself that this was just training. You could make mistakes in training and try again to right your wrongs.

“We’re coming up on the target. Stay sharp for the second missile,” Bradley’s voice felt jarring at this time, but like everything else…you shoved it down.

“Copy that Rooster.”

You fucking hated using his callsign. The feeling as if you were just anybody else on the team had turned your body cold, but as of right now…you were just that. It was clear to both of you that whatever happened before wasn’t meant to be brought up here. Not when things were life and death. Except you couldn’t help but notice the edge to his voice as he let you know the first missile had been fired. You played it off as your mind overthinking again; changing the manner of his tone to fit your heartbroken demeanor.

“Coming up on the target,” Bob said. “Laser is all good.”

“Phoenix?”

“After you Panther,” she replied. You could hear the smirk in her voice, letting you know that it was now your turn to show them who was leader and who wasn’t.

Flipping a switch, you took a deep breath before pushing the control stick forward, flipping the jet as Maverick had explained and coming into a dive. Evening out the jet, you heard Bob line up the shot through the radio and without a second of hesitation you took the chance the second he said go. Now came the hard part. You heard Maverick’s voice in your head, explaining that the pilot would be pushing Mach 9 in order to get out of Coffin’s Corner.

“Fuck,” you spit, feeling the pressure on your body become excruciating.

Breathing was painful, turning your head was painful, fuck even surviving this felt as if you were being torn limb from limb. The gravity pulled against you as the jet took off even higher—Phoenix right behind you. All you needed was to push on just a bit further, but that gut feeling from earlier reared its ugly head. A beeping started to echo in the small cockpit, a red light flickering above you, and a cold chill went down your spine as flashbacks started to return in full force.

“Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air!” 

Hunter’s voice practically screamed in your ear, the beeping only getting louder the more you continued to push the jet to its limits. You could see his face, see the image of him lying dead on the ground, and suddenly…getting air to your lungs wasn’t your biggest problem. Phoenix’s voice shouted through the radio, trying to shake you out of your nightmare, but nothing worked.

The jet was dropping altitude too quickly. Yanking on the stick, you tried to even it out, but another red light flashed in front of you, altering you to the right engine dying.

“Fuck!” you shouted, pressing the switch to extinguish it in the hopes that would be enough to get you back on the runway.

“Panther what’s going on?” Maverick called, his jet not far behind.

“The right engines out!” You’d been trained for situations like this and without another thought you began to even out the jet, gaining altitude as you shook your head to rid yourself of the flashbacks.

You’d managed to even out, the sight of the runway coming up in the distance, but another sound began quickly after the first. The echo of your left engine now going out—leaving you dead in the air. You panicked. Hunter’s face was all you could see and for a moment you felt your lips form around the letters of his name. Perhaps he was there with you. Finally ready to take you with him after all these years going it alone. The prospect of crashing didn’t scare you as much as it should.

No, what scared you was that…you weren’t afraid to die at all.

“Panther bail out! I need you to eject!” You barely heard Mav’s voice.

“I can’t outrun them. I’m going to get a bit lower, enough for you to eject.”

“I’m not leaving you here to die.”

“Eject Panther! Eject!” Maverick was practically screaming at you now, but your head had gone hazy—the force of hitting Mach 9 causing you to fade in and out.

“Either you eject now or we both die!”

Gasping, you flipped another switch, trying to slow down the jet, but you couldn’t see straight—your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You heard Phoenix yell at you through the radio, her voice trying to bring you back and you wanted to scream that you were trying. That you could see the hill coming even closer, yet you were unable to reach down and pull the chord beneath you.

Why couldn’t you move?

“I—” you gasped, trying to get air into your lungs. “I can’t.”

The radio crackled, another voice coming in clearer than the others. “Panther I need you to eject!” Bradley’s jet was diving down towards yours, his panicked voice causing your heart to twist.

“Roo—” you mumbled.

His jet was right beside yours, the dive he was in breaking the rule of the hard deck. “Do it now Panther! Please!” You could vaguely make out the terror in his plea. “You can do this. Just breathe.”

Fumbling, you felt the roughness of the rope scratch against your hands and you inhaled, shutting your eyes tightly as Hunter’s face showed up vividly behind your eyelids. Yanking it with all the strength you had, you felt the gust of wind hit you harshly in the face—the echo of your chute opening a few moments later. You could hear the distant crash of your jet, the explosion nearly rocking the ground below, but your vision was fading with every passing second.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tilting your head to the side, the sunlight blinding you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

You hit the ground hard, your knees taking the brunt of the fall and on instinct you unlatched yourself from your chute. Leaving your body to collapse—the breath leaving your lungs. The exhaustion refused to leave your body even though you fought against it. Pulling that many Gs left you in a state of disorientation. One that you couldn’t get out of.

The air was stale from the heat of the day. The sun still beat down as you lay there, sweating the longer you drifted in and out of consciousness. You fought to stay awake, but your mind seemed to have other plans entirely. It had decided to be cruel today—forcing you to relive things you wished to forget at a time like this.

“I know I say it every time we fly,” Hunter said,  glancing up at the sky like he’d find his solace in the clouds. More often than not every pilot preferred to be up there rather than on the ground. 

Up there…heartbreak, grief, pain it all disappeared. Probably why so many refused to retire; why they remained until they were forced out or lost in the heat of battle. You knew which path you were on long ago—the futile choice already made for you.

He turned his eyes to you, a sorrow in them that you recognized after knowing him for so long. “If we don’t make it back, Panther. If I don’t…” He blinked, wiping away his pain and slapping an all too false smile on his lips. “Tell my girl I was flying back to her.”

It was an omission of truth, a terrifying thought no pilot wanted to consider, but you did it anyway. Returning his smile you clapped him on the back lightly. You didn’t know then that you’d be delivering his message after all these years. That he’d leave his final words with you, but there it was…the reality of being an airman. One day your heaven became your ultimate hell and nothing would ever be able to change that.

You were jolted awake by the sounds of a chopper landing near you, someone running out and grabbing you quickly in order to get you on board and back. Pain erupted in your side, searing down your leg as they shifted you, but you had no energy to cry out. Everything shifted as the chopper took off; someone reached down to gently pull your helmet off as they attempted to check your pulse. You wanted to say you would be fine. All you needed was a moment, but even this was too extreme for your body to handle.

Before you could open your eyes, you were pulled under again.

The bar doors swung open as you sat there finishing the bottle of whiskey you and Phoenix were meant to drink together. She’d taken off in a hurry after learning what choice you made, but at least she promised things were okay between you two. You just wished you could tell her the truth—why you were so adamant on running in the first place. But you didn’t even know what the truth was. You were just a hopeful idiot, waiting for life to hand you love on a silver platter rather than fighting for it yourself.

“I thought I’d find you here kitten,” Bradley’s voice bounced off the empty bar walls as he took the stool beside you.

“You told me to come here.” You didn’t want to say it, but he looked almost…bashful. “Why…did you ask me here, Bradshaw?”

He poured himself a glass, taking a deep breath as he drank before meeting your eyes for the first time that night. “I know we’ve graduated and you and I have done nothing but try and kill each other, but…”

“But?” Fuck, you hoped what you thought he was going to say next actually came out of his mouth.

“I want to be with you,” he blurted out. His face turned red when he caught you staring at him with your eyes wide. “I…I care about you kitten. Fuck I don’t know if it’s love or if it’s just some crush, but…I know I want you.”

Your throat felt dry as you tried to swallow, his words sinking into your mind. “You…”

“Yes,” he replied.

“And what if…” You could barely get the fucking words out. “What if this—” You gestured between the both of you, your hands shaking slightly. “Is just an itch that needs to be scratched to get me out of your mind?”

“It’s not.”

You couldn’t stand the way he was watching you with so much calm in his expression; as if he was so sure about what the two of you shared. “How do you know?”

He leaned forward, lips twitching as he heard your breath catch in your throat at his close proximity. “Because you’ve been in my mind since day one, kitten. Believe me when I say nothing could get you out of it. Nothing would make me want you to leave it.”

“She’s fighting being unconscious,” someone said over the loud echo of the helicopter blade. “Her body’s gone into shock.”

They moved you again swiftly and you could barely make out the sunlight through your shut eyes. Vaguely in the back of your mind you knew where they were taking you. The hospital no doubt. You’d taken a hard hit on the way down—your body unable to handle the sustained G’s in the training. The gurney was stopped suddenly, jolting you again and bringing back the pain in your side. You nearly cried out, but not even your voice would work.

Footsteps pounded against the asphalt, your name echoing in the distance; the paramedics stopped them halfway to you and you tried to raise your head to see them. Why was it so fucking hard? Why…were you still drifting in between being conscious and unconscious?

“I need to see if she’s alright.”

Bradley.

“Lieutenant, I need you to wait with the others. She’s going to be taken to the hospital—”

“I just need to see if she’s okay!” he shouted, the scuffle of his feet echoing on the ground.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw I can’t let you—”

“Let him through.” Maverick. Your brain registered they were there and for the first time, you managed to slowly open your eyes—able to make out the shape of Bradley rushing towards you.

He looked so blurry as he stood there, his hand dropping to your cheek before cupping the back of your neck when he leaned over to get close. This is what you longed for. This is what kept you afloat when everything else was falling apart around you. Hunter’s face, the memories, they all retreated to the back of your mind as a new image took form. A bright eyed pilot who had stolen what was left of your already shattered heart—his crooked smile enough to send your entire being into overdrive.

“Kitten, can you hear me?” he asked softly, tilting your head. “Fuck.” Something wet fell on your chin. “Fuck I’m so sorry.”

“We have to take her.”

His grip got tighter, the broken tone of his voice nearly breaking your heart again as your eyes fluttered slightly—the ability to move returning. “Is she going to be okay?”

You could easily tell them that it was just a panic attack. You were used to them popping up at random times, but you were so tired and Bradley’s skin felt warm pressed against yours. Vaguely you felt them move you, his warmth leaving you for the cold bitterness of the outside world. Except by the time you could open your mouth, attempt to reach for him, they were already slamming the doors shut on the ambulance.

“Bradley,” you faintly breathed, the paramedics shifting around you to continue and attempt to check if you were comfortable where you were.

Yet you couldn’t tell them that your only source of comfort had been left behind. Bradley’s face flashed in your mind again, his voice whispering in your ears as you were finally sucked under into the darkness one last time. The panic, the pain, all of it…finally gone.

#bradley bradshaw x fem!reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x you #top gun maverick #my writing

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

The Only Living Thing

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: Language.

Synopsis: You’ve been friends with BIlly Russo for as long as you can remember. Then, on that one night in New York, feelings get mixed up with the liquor that burns and everything spins out of control. So much for being the only living thing that Billy Russo has ever cared about... Or is it?  A/N: This just sort of happened. I may be writing more if you guys want, I think I can definitely take this further? I have a pretty hectic schedule but I might make it happen x

Song : Adam French - The Only Living Thing

New York, November 2019. 
 

Breathtaking. 


You are breathtaking, like the most beautiful view from atop the mountain or his biggest fear coming alive under his stare. 
 You’re a mix of excitement and terror, and you are enchanting enough to keep him on the tips of his toes, second-guessing everything, his every decision and every word... 

You are meant to leave him wanting more.

The night New York has never looked so good on a woman before.

Billy’s vision goes blurry for a second, his stomach hot and heavy.

You are glowing.

You radiate a kind of a warm sepia glow, so beautiful and genuine and so fucking effortlessy...

Smooth and unapologetic.
 


Messy strands of hair framing your face, your blushing cheeks, as you laugh your heart out, throwing your head back. Your pearl teeth flash in the dimness of the bar. Your thin black tights are torn at the thighs, your lips are red and irritated as you sink your teeth in, again and again.

Your laugh is flamboyant, intoxicating. Raw.

You are something else...

When suddenly, you see him, your black eyelashes fluttering as you wink at him. Billy’s chest feels too wide, too fragile and too hot. Do you see those unspoken words shining out of his drunken eyes?

When you make your way to him through the crowd, he’s paralyzed, afraid to move forward, afraid to scare you off, but mostly, afraid to let everyone see how desperate he is for your touch.

This is wrong, so fucking wrong, but why in hell when you come over, throwing your elegant arms around his neck, your cute perky nose touching his chest - it feels so. fucking. right?! Like you were custom-made for each other?...

Before he can stop himself, he slides an arm around your waist. You say something to him, something funny, for everyone around him snorts and chuckles, but his mind, his entire world - suddenly comes down to that spot just below his cheekbone where you plant a soft peck of your velvet pouty lips.

“Those twenty bucks we bet on? I win,” you half laugh, half exhale in his ear, your lips brushing against the lobe. “Madani is fucking obsessed with you”.

“Ah,” Billy smiles, both of his hands snaking around your waist now as he looks down at you.

...And I am fucking obsessed with us.

“And you just enjoy rubbing us - this! in her face right now, aren’t you?” he mutters instead, his temples buzzing with the gin and tonic he has been downing all night. 

God, he hopes you’re too buzzed to have noticed his slip of fucking epic proportions.

He promised himself he wouldn’t drink, not with you still around - because whatever it was that he felt for you mixed with liquid that burned equaled a very bad outcome. 

He might be well into the tipsy territory by now but Billy isn’t delusional. The chances that you would go back to his place or even kiss him back are entirely too slim.

Because friends don’t do friends.

Friends might as well become a new f-word for all Billy cares at this point.

When you throw your head back in an explosive laugh, Billy’s distracted. He gets an extensive view of your elegant neck, your delicate collarbones, but mostly - of the swell of your mouthwatering breasts, as your black silk top tightens over them. 

Fuuuuck him.

“Fuck you, Russo”, you echo his thoughts somehow as you wink at him once you’ve restored your breath, not stepping away from his embrace, however, letting him keep his hands on you. 

It’s always like this between the two of you. You’ve known each other for a while now - four, five years? After Billy bumped into you at a brunch at Liebermans’ and spilled his frappuccino all over your gorgeous rack. He wasn’t even going to come - but boy, was he glad he did - even though you wasted no time opening that sassy mouth of yours and verbally eviscerating him.

This wasn’t a love at first sight. 
 For you, at least.

“At least buy me a dinner first,” Billy barely manages, his vision a tad blurry.

He notices you giving him an unimpressed stare. Feeling stupid all at once, Billy blinks quickly and lets go of your waist...

Only to tremble on his feet and almost fall on his face.

“Heyyy,” he registers your breath on his cheek before he hears what you’re saying, your small hands holding him in place. Your touch burns through the fabric of his button down shirt as your palms slide up his sides to his shoulders. “You okay there, Russo?”

Billy squirms, chomping on his bottom lip as he grabs you by your elbows.

‘’M fine”, he says quietly, but doesn’t let go. When he lowers his stare to meet your eyes, he almost wants to cry. There’s concern in their bottomless depths, worry for him and desire to make it all better. He just wishes there was more heat there, and less of that f-word that ends with -riends.

“You don’t look fine, lover,” you retort, wiggling and pushing and pulling onto him until you’re snug under his arms and carrying his dead weight to the exit. “Let’s go get some fresh air, come on.”

Billy utters something half-heartedly, his head feeling like it’s filled with cotton. He didn’t even drink that much, as least he doesn’t think so. Must be your fucking intoxicating perfume, sweet but voluptuous and so fucking tempting...

Pure sin. 


Even drunk out of his fucking mind, he’s still the envy of every guy at that bar because he’s with a stunning, breathtaking, prettiest woman in the whole damn world that is you.

“If you were able to stand right now, that line might have gotten you laid,” you inform him with a laugh, basically carrying him to the exit on your shoulders.

Through the drunken haze, Billy realises he might have spoken those words out loud, but the terror is quickly replaced by...

“Are you shitting me?” He slurs, trying to stay vertical. “Are you saying you want me?”

By the time the words escape his mouth, you have pushed the exit door wide open and nudged him to step out. Losing his balance, Billy crashes into Frank, Stein and Madani, smoking outside.
 Dina’s eyes flash mischievously as you step out of the bar, immediately throwing your arms around Billy protectively, helping him to steady himself.

“Oh, so it’s common knowledge now, then?” Dina ventures, licking her lips bloodthirstily, her eyes never quitting yours. “You’ve finally admitted you want to drag that fine Caspian ass in your bed?”

The running joke aimed at Billy looking like a Disney prince feels out of place; all conversation is silenced out as you narrow your eyes at Madani, your grip around Billy’s waist instantly becoming tighter. Frank clears his throat in an attempt to defuse the awkwardness, but doesn’t intervene.

And Billy is... well, happy. Over the moon, actually, and still drunk off his ass.

Apparently, you have been wanting to drag his ass into your bed for a while now!

That does mean you see him more than a friend, right? 

What if... What if all this time you were just as hung up on him as he was on you, but neither of you had the balls to say anything?

In his picture perfect drunken world, Madani makes sense and his heart sings.

You want him.

If it were a Disney cartoon, animals would be singing and dancing around praising your couple. 

Frankie would have probably made a sick unicorn.

“Oh Dina”, suddenly your voice cuts right through Billy’s happy fantasy, and there’s way too much sass in that voice for it to belong to a Disney princess. “Just because your friend Sam here and your own desperate fan-girling ass carry a boner for some fucked up teenage fantasy that involves boinking Prince Caspian, doesn’t mean all women have that same one-track mind. Some of us can actually look past a dick and see a friend. So why don’t you lay off that Cosmopolitan and fuck off, vodka-cranberry sure ain’t making you brighter”.

Billy frowns, deep lines creasing his forehead.

Frank snorts with laughter, not even bothering to conceal his reaction. 
 
 You hold Dina’s hateful stare.

“Whatever, bitch” the latter one finally utters, throwing her cigarette away. “I never fucking liked you. Maybe after this your little fanboy here will see you for what you really are - a fucking coward and a tosser”, Billy’s stares at her in disbelief, his mind still foggy. Madani’s dark eyes flash dangerously in his direction. “Of all women, Russo... Karma is a bitch, isn’t she? Your little princess here only loves herself, lover. Get out while you fucking can”.

Smashing her shoulder into yours, Madani goes back into the bar, leaving equally dreary and awkward silence behind.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Frank isn’t laughing anymore as he folds his hands on his chest, giving you a questioning eye. 

You roll your eyes dismissively. 

“Well, she’s obviously shit-faced,” you shrug, sliding your hands off of Billy. “What, you’re surprised she hates me?”

It’s a whole another world there, in Billy’s head. Have you just distanced yourself from him after what Madani said? What, you thought he’s so drunk he wouldn’t fucking notice?

“...so just because I have basic restraint and actually appreciate a man as a friend, I’m a damaged bitch with a twisted sense of humour? Look, I don’t know, Frank”, you rub your eyes tiredly with the back of your hand.

“I do,” Billy suddenly chimes in hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot and dark, darker than usual, as they narrow at you. “Know. I know.” Billy stutters, then takes a deep breath. “That’s all I am to you then, sweetheart? A friend?”

Billy wavers a bit as he speaks, but his words are deadly. Your eyes pop wide open at his words, like Russo has just grown a penis on his forehead. Frank’s mouth forms a silent O.

And just like that, the tension is back.

“Well, of course you are my friend,” you say slowly, stretching out your hand in an attempt to grasp Billy’s wrist. Your eyes are searching his face, but he’s locked, like a goddamn prison cell. “You’re my friend and I love you”.

Wrong answer, if Billy’s expression is anything to judge by as he recoils  from your touch. His face is a mix of disappointment and anger, his lips a thin line as he turns away.

“Fucking idiot,” he mutters under his breath as he turns on his heels and makes a tentative step towards the bar. Only his body is ruled by gin and whatever shit he chased it with, so his feet get mixed up together. Billy trips over his own shoes. 

“Hey, easy there, tiger”, Frank, who’s been standing closer, grips Billy by his arm to help him keep his balance. “What’s gotten into you, man?”

Billy chuckles, throwing his head back, and that has got to be the most bitter sound you have ever heard. You shudder involuntary, watching Russo like a hawk.

“I would have given you the fucking world, you know that?” Billy stares you dead in the eye, grabbing the door handle in front of him. “You just keep fucking with my head like a fucking sadist, and I live by the shit you give me!” you blanch as Billy goes on with the program, hurt dripping from his mouth. “Must have always thought that should be some spectacular pussy you’ve been packing, totally worth all your shit”.

“Bill!” Frank calls him out sharply, his expression terrified. 

But the damage is done. 


Your eyes are brimming with tears, but you stay silent, unblinking. Your chest seems a little caved-in, but you hold your chin high as your trembling lips start to move.

“Fuck you, Russo”, you spit, “Fuck you, friend”.

The next thing he knows, Billy explodes in a fit of bitter laughter - even though all he wants to do is fucking cry.

This just goes to fucking show there’s no such thing as Disney fairytale in real life, is there?

“Oh don’t worry, friend, somebody will,” he promises you, swinging the door to the bar wide open. “Gonna go help Madani fulfil her teenage fantasy. While you can stay here, think about us fucking like rabbits and feel better about yourself”.

With those words thrown over his shoulder, he steps into the crowded bar, the sound of the door shutting behind him sounding final. 

Plot twist. Curtain falls.

Frank can’t even venture a look at you - he doesn’t even hear you breathing.

“He’s just piss off drunk, that’s it. He doesn’t mean it,” Castle attempts to do some damage control, even though he knows that that ship has most definitely sailed.

“Thanks, Frank,” he hears you say quietly, and as he raises his eyes, he catches the sight of you wiping your cheeks quickly.

You inhale slowly, closing your eyes and fisting your hands.

“Tell Karen and the guys I wasn’t feeling so hot, okay?” you ask, and there’s definitely pleading in your voice.

You never plead.

Before Frank can ever mutter anything about Karen having his head if he lets you walk away at night all alone, you wave at him dismissively. 

“I’ll see you”, you say as you collect your hair in a ponytail and walk off, your silhouette soon lost in the bustling New York night.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo #billy russo angst #the punisher imagine #billy russo imagine #billy russo story #billy russo au #the punisher story #the punisher

[thinking-about-sw33ts]

αѕ ρяσмιѕє∂ нєяє ιѕ σиє σf тнє fαиfι¢ѕ!! ι ωιℓℓ ρσѕт тнє σтнєя σиє αѕ ωєℓℓ, ѕσ ∂σи'т ωσяяу! αи∂ αѕ αℓωαуѕ ιf тнєяє αяє αиу ѕρєℓℓιиg мιѕтαкє(ѕ)/єяяσя(ѕ), ρℓєαѕє тєℓℓ мє αи∂ ι ωιℓℓ fιχ ιт тнє ѕαмє gσєѕ fσя тнє тяαиѕℓαтισи(ѕ)!! αи∂ мαувє fσя α fєω σf тнє ∂єfιиιтισи(ѕ)! αgαιи, αℓℓ σf тнєѕє ωιℓℓ вє σи ωαттα∂ тσσ!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⭐️Corsets⭐️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anime:

🗝Nanbaka🗝

Supporting ship(s):

🎥Tsukumo🎥 X 💢Honey💢

Type:

🌸Fluff🌸

🌶Spicy🌶

AU(Alternative Universe):

🗝Normal🗝

Love interest for Reader:

🛠Trois🛠

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🚻(Y/N)’s P.O.V🚻(Point of View):

“For the last game! Is of course, the sake barrel tournament!” Mitsuru claimed, while floating over the roaring audience. After explaining what the objective was, the game soon began.

Samon immediately charged after Kiji, while Honey and Trois quickly ran towards the large wooden barrel, with cell 8 on their tail.

I feel myself getting worried, knowing that Trois and Honey weren’t really much of a fighter. So cell 8 beating them wouldn't really be much of a surprise.

“Quit it Monkey! Don’t you dare ruin my makeup! Do you know how much time I spent on this!” Kiji cried out, using his dual weapons to dodge Samon’s swinging staff.

“Shut up, Pheasant!” Samon shouted, trying to at least hit one of the pressure spots on Kiji’s body.

Suddenly Trois grabs Honey’s leg before swinging him around, and tossing him towards the wooden sake barrel, Honey landing perfectly in the middle, breaking the wooden seal over the wooden sake barrel, before falling in, and getting soaked by the sake.

The audience being completely silent, clearly shocked by what Trois had done, before roaring out cheers of excitement.

“And there ya have it folks! Seems like Building 3 finally won the new year's tournament, for once!” Mitsuru announced over the mic, clearly pumped up.

Suddenly Kiji brings one of his hands, and places it on his hip, striking a victorious pose. “Hmp, and that’s what you all get for doubting me.” Kiji purred out, his confidence showing.

Honey soon rises from the wooden sake barrel about to shout at Trois for what he just did, before trying to process everything that had happened staring back at the said frenchie.

Once he realizes what had happened he gets out of the barrel before cheering himself. Trois on the other hand stares at me, before flashing a charming, but gentle smile.

I felt my cheeks getting warm, before smiling back. Giving him a thumbs up. “Aren’t you going to give him a victory kiss, inmate 6?” Ahato asked, giving me a closed-eyed smile.

“I suppose so.” I replied, leaning against the red railings, desperately trying to calm down my raging blush. Soon enough Cell 6 returned back to their seats. Each boy being seated on my side.

“I, Ahato, is always and very impressed with what you do! You did great, Kiji Onee-sama! We’ll finally get a raise!~” Ahato fanboyed, high-fiving Kiji with both of his arms.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Mon Amour~” Trois asked, tapping his cheek with his pointer finger. I rolled my (E/C) coloured eyes at him, before giving in, and giving him a victory kiss on his cheek.

While Honey sat on the other side of me, completely ignoring the both of us. The warden soon started her speech congratulating the winning building.

During said speech I had managed to nudge Honey’s arm using my elbow, catching his attention. I pointed to a different building, building 13.

While pointing to the said different building, I was also directly pointing at a certain pink haired shinobi. This action made Honey blush, turning his gaze away from me, and staring at the shinobi.

‘He totally has the hots for him.’ I thought to myself smugly, while smirking. From the corner of my eye, I saw the said shinobi waving at Honey, which Honey waved back. A little smile grazing his face.

‘I didn’t know he could make that face.’ I thought to myself, finally ignoring the two of them, and focusing on the speech.

Soon enough, the speech was over, and the feast took place! After the feast we got escorted back to our cell. “Goodnight you three!~” Kiji announced, doing his final rounds before going home.

Suddenly Honey raises himself using his elbows. Trois doing the same shortly after. While I just turned at them, laying down, too lazy to sit up.

“This year was nice.” Trois commented, smiling softly. “Another year, where I get to see your hideous face, once again, Trois.” Honey teased, a smirk planted on his face. Trois ignored his comment, paying attention to me.

“What did you two want, exactly?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. “A lingerie viewing exhibit~” Both of them purred out, clearly excited. A little blush could be seen on their cheeks. While their eyes sparkled.

I just shivered, not knowing why they’re so fascinated with women’s underwear. “Lights out!” Ahato announced, before shortly shutting off the lights after. “What about you, (Y/N)?” Trois asked, while Honey didn’t say anything. Although, clearly listening in.

“A phone that stores all genres of Manga, Manhua, Manhwas, and Anime!” I announced, excited. My (E/C) eyes sparkling. “That sounds nice.” Trois commented, a small smile grazing his features.

Soon enough Honey slowly went to sleep, snuggling deeper inside his dark purple futon, the both of us following shortly after. Trois slowly gets up from his mint green futon, and slips in my (Y/F/C) futon.

Trois held me protectively, yet softly, his legs tangled with mine. He raises a few of my (H/C) coloured hair out of my forehead, before planting a soft kiss. Giving my lips a small peck as well. I placed my hand on his cheek, caressing it. He softly grabs my wrist, before planting another kiss directly on it.

Giving me yet another gentle loving smile. Me, softly smiling back.

“Ugh, get a room.” Honey groaned out, annoyed. “Says the one who has a crush on that ninja from building 13.” I replied, annoyed as well, clearly just trying to enjoy peace, and quiet with my lover.

“What!?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🚻(Y/N)’s P.O.V🚻(Point of View):

The next day soon came, as well as our prizes. After eating breakfast in the cafeteria. Feeling absolute euphoria eating (Y/F/F), my favorite!~

While Trois ate some Cream stew, and Honey a clam chowder. We quickly got escorted to Kazari’s lab by Kiji. “Oh, hello there number 6. Just wait here, while I grab your prize.” Kazari explained, hurrying to go get the prize from another room.

I sat on a chair, patiently waiting for Kazari to come back. Soon after she comes back with a (Y/F/C) coloured phone, which she hands to me.

“It has all the latest Mangas and Animes, along with some of the oldest ones, and ones in between.” Kazari added, petting my head.

“Thank you so much Kazari!~” I cheered, quickly opening the phone. Hopping on a Manga I’ve always wanted to read. Soon enough we got to the boy’s prize.

Trois inviting Uno, thinking he might want to see it as well, much to Honey’s dismay. Kiji soon comes back, fetching us, before taking us to another separate room. The boys quickly head inside, clearly excited.

“Oh my~” Both boys mutter out, surprised. Once they settle down from their excitement, they scatter looking at the different lingeries, bras, and panties.

“Oh my god! This is pure heaven!~” Honey cheered, looking at the different selections of panties. “They even have white lace~” He mutters out, reading the sign on the bottom. His emerald eyes sparkling with endearment.

Uno soon joins in, entering through the door, before looking at a certain baby blue lingerie two piece set. His ocean coloured eyes sparkling with excitement.

I just stare at the unnecessary commotion their making, my (E/C) orbs judging them ever so slightly. As much as I loved my perverted boyfriend, Trois, sometimes his pervertedness can get out of hand.

I quickly go back to reading (F/M) on my(Y/F/C) phone, ignoring them, and leaning against the wall. That focus slowly breaking from the commotion the boys were making.

I walk around, looking at the different things as well. Before stumbling on a plain (Y/F/C) corset vest. ‘I have been wanting to try a corset for the last few days.’ I wondered to myself, not knowing that I was actually muttering it out. All of a sudden I felt someone hugging me from behind, making me jump, since I was surprised.

I looked behind me only to instantly calm down, seeing that it was only Trois. He places a few strands of my (H/L) (H/C) behind my ear, before trailing a few light, fluttery kisses down my neck. I chuckle, the sensation making me feel slightly ticklish. Making me blush lightly.

“Did that one catch your eye, mon chéri~” Trois asks, his deep rose coloured eyes showing nothing but mischief. “And what if I say yes?” I asked him back, wondering what he had stored.

“Ugh! I told you before, get a fucking room!”

“Damn pretty boy!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✨Timeskip✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🚻(Y/N)’s P.O.V🚻(Point of View):

“Apparently Honey was allowed to stay at cell 11, building 13 for the night.” Trois explained, using his towel to dry his hair, before brushing it. I nod, to show that I was listening.

“Lights out!” Kiji announces, before doing another round. Soon after the lights shut off, covering us in total darkness. The only light coming from the moon in the starry sky.

“I got you a little of something (Y/N).”

“And what might that be?”

I sat up from my (Y/F/C) futon, curious for what he got me. He quickly goes towards one of the white fancy wardrobes, pulling on one of the bottom drawers, before fetching a medium sized (Y/F/C) wrapped box.

He hands me the box, excited for me to open it. Once I opened it, I realized that it was the corset vest I took a liking to. “How did you even get this?” I asked him, generally surprised, before excitement took place.

He ignored my question, quickly pecking my lips. “You’re too cute for your own good, Mon Amour.” Trois purred out, taking my hand, and kissing it.

“Such a gentleman~” I praised him, feeding his ever growing ego. “Do you mind if you put it on me?” I ask him, turning away in order to hide my red face. “Whatever you need sweetheart~”

Trois sits beside me, before grabbing my wrist, which makes me fall directly on his lap, facing him. He quickly fetches the corset, placing it on me.

I hook the pieces on the front. I feel Trois’ hands on each side of my hips, guiding them up and down, before getting the two strings from the back of the corset, wrapping it around his hands, and pulling.

I slightly jumped, getting startled, before relaxing once again. Once he had completely pulled them he quickly tied them. “You look like an absolute God/Goddess in that (Y/N).” Trois whispers into my ear, before placing his head on my shoulder, cuddling me.

He soon raises his head, capturing my lips against his. Our tongues moved smoothly against each other. We quickly pulled apart, since the need for air was growing stronger. A string of saliva connecting to each other’s lips.

We both panted, clearly out of breath. He headed over to my neck, covering it with noticeable hickeys, and love bites. Before I could moan, I covered my mouth with my hand, so that I wouldn’t make any embarrassing noises.

“People can see them.” I panted out, blush covering my cheeks, from what had earlier happened. “Good~ People can see that you're mine.” Trois replied, smirking to himself.

“Oh my God! Trois what are you doing!” Kiji shrieked out, shining his flashlight on us. “Wait, is that the corset from the exhibit?!” Honey questions, a mixture of surprise and disgust hinted in his voice. “Honey weren’t you supposed to be with your ninja boyfriend!” I questioned back, panicking.

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Translation(s):

• Mon Amour = My Love.

• Mon Cherie = My Dear.

Definition(s):

• (Y/F/C) = Your Favorite Colour.

• (Y/N) = Your Name.

• (H/L) = Hair Length.

• (H/C) = Hair Colour.

• (F/M) = Favorite Manga/Manhua/Manhwa.

• (E/C) = Eye Colour.

• (Y/F/F) = Your Favorite Food.

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#nanbaka #nanbaka the numbers #idiots with numbers #fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfcition #wattapad #wattpad #book #oneshot #writing #i wanna wriiiiiite #send me suggestions #any suggestions? #x reader #requests #any requests? #trois nanbaka #nanbaka trois #honey nanbaka #nanbaka honey #nanbaka tsukumo #nanbaka mitsuru #nanbaka samon #Nanbaka cell 8 #Nanbaka cell 6 #nanbaka kiji #Nanbaka Ahato

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 40

I got up to make banana bread for my niece. This chapter is just as sweet. Enjoy.

~*~Sebastian~*~

I woke up face down and naked on top of Emma's bed. I turned my head and could see Emma was also face down and naked. She was also using my lower back as a pillow with her arm under my ass. I have no idea how we got here. I remember the blonde with long hair trying to start shit. Then more shots. And more shots. We hadn't driven, so we must have taken an Uber back. I could see towels on the floor, so we must have showered. That's good because we both had to stink after all day in the sun. Her more. I stifled a laugh and felt Emma shift. I said, "Morning." My voice sounded like we’d been drinking all night or I’d started smoking again.

"Morning." Her voice sounded as rough as mine. She started to move then stopped. "I'm hugging your butt like a teddy bear. Interesting."

"Gotta admit, it's a first."

Emma joined me right way on the bed after planting a kiss on my ass. I rolled to my side, mirroring her, "Any idea how we got here?"

"Not really." She cringed, "I remember getting out of an Uber and barely being able to unlock the door."

"There's towels on the floor."

She leaned and sniffed my chest, "You smell nice and clean." Her eyes shifted between both our naked bodies. "Did we have sex?"

I laughed, "Oh, I doubt it." She laughed with me. I ran my hand down her side to rest on her hip, my eyes following. "I may always want you, but I think too drunk to fuck was a thing last night."

She smiled, her single dimple making itself known, "Always, huh?"

"Always." I went to kiss her, but was stopped by her hand on my chest.

"Oh no." She shook her head. "Something has crawled in my mouth and died." She climbed over me and headed to the bathroom. I heard her pee, flush, and turned the water on.

I knocked, "Can I brush too?"

She let me in and made room in front of the sink. We continued talking as we brushed. "How do you feel?"

"Not horrible. A little headache. My finger hurts. How about you?

"Dehydrated. Headache."

"We have brunch with your parents in two hours."

I looked at her in the mirror, "We can push it back. I don't want to cancel."

"No, Advil and some water and I'll be fine." She put her hand over her stomach. "I'll be hungry by then." She finished brushing her teeth, put her tooth brush away, and looked down my body. Emma's hand caressed down my chest to cup my balls. "You're very naked, Mr. Stan."

I almost choked on a mouthful of toothpaste. I spit and rinsed while she continued to fondle me. Thankfully, she waited to stroke my cock. I dropped my toothbrush in the sink with a groan. My hands ran down the silky skin of her back to her ass and I pulled her closer. I stopped a fraction of an inch from her lips, "You're very naked too, Ms. Marcum."

I kissed her and realized I was already hungry.

Two hours later we walked into Jill's Bistro and sat down with my parents. Mom was happy to see both of us. She'd texted me Friday morning to make sure we were still on and to tell me again she liked Emma. I was glad. I love my mom. While her approval of someone I'm going out with isn’t necessary, it is nice. Especially considering how much I liked Emma.

Mom did separate us for brunch. When we got to the table, she and Anthony were seated across from each other. I rolled my eyes as I hugged her, "Traitor."

Mom kissed my cheek, "I can talk to you both." She hugged Emma, "Nice to see you again."

"You too."

I pushed in Emma's chair and kissed her cheek before walking to the other side of the table. This was fine. We were both tall enough for me to stretch out my leg and touch hers. Yes, I am just that ridiculous.

Mom was on Emma's right and immediately noticed her finger, like any good mom would. Emma had left it uncovered to get some air. The blood was gone, but it was still red and looked like it hurt. She said it did. Emma told them about the game and I pulled out my phone to supplement with pictures and video. I smiled watching again, even more with the interest my parents showed. Eventually we talked about other stuff. Food was good. Dessert was incredible. It was a good time. I was still a little dehydrated and tired. Inside the CRV I looked at her, "Are you tired?"

"A little. Why? What do you want to do?" Her smile and the way she's looking at me. Damn.

Shaking my head, I said, "Nothing. I was thinking I was a little tired and figured you really must be."

"Wanna go home and lay on the couch? Read. It's your turn to introduce me to a TV show."

I laughed, "Yeah, it is. You need to turn in your lesson plans too." I remembered.

"Last week. Woo hoo!" She pumped both arms in the air. We were laughing when her phone rang. The CRV screen said, "Dad #2". Emma pointed toward the steering wheel, “Hit answer for me. The one on the left." I hit the button and the call connected. "Hey, dad."

A gravelly voice came through the speakers and my inner fanboy got very excited. My thought that Dad #2 was Ed proved true.

"Hey Emma. How was the tournament?"

"We won!"

"That's fantastic. Congratulations."

"It was fun. I'll send you pictures."

"Can't wait to see them. Did you hurt yourself?"

"Broke off a nail. Nothing major." She looked at me and winked. "I'm being well taken care of."

Thus far the conversation had been a quick back and forth. There was a noticeable pause before Ed started speaking again, "What exactly does that mean?"

"I'm seeing someone. He patched me up when I hurt myself."

I was thinking being a knight in shining armor would get me some points.

"Do you not remember the rules? Do dating before thirty. In the last two weeks have you miraculously turned thirty?"

Nope, no points for me. I'm also docking myself some points because I don't know how old she is. She's got a job and a condo. That’s old enough.

"No, I have not. Wait, he's over thirty." I held up some fingers. "Thirty-six."

"Was that supposed to make it better, Emma? Thirty-six. Fuck, he's not a musician too is he? 'Cause that requires paperwork."

"No, not a musician."

"What's he do?" There was a tone in his voice that told me he knew she was not telling him something.

"He's an actor."

"Not better. Should have never let you move to New York. Actors and musicians everywhere."

"I met him here." She was pointing down like he could see her. They were used to FaceTime.

“Yes or no. If I was to hang up and change to FaceTime would I see him?" He was giving her shit, but his affection for her was clear.

"Of course not, Daddy. I’m in the car. Answering FaceTime would be dangerous."

I let out a barking laugh. The tone of her voice was very Cher from Clueless.

"Ha! Thought so. What’s your name?"

I answered without pause, “Sebastian Stan. Nice to, well, meet you. Sort of."

"Sebastian Stan. S-T-A-N." I nearly laughed again. Fucking Eddie Vedder was Googling me. “That’s why your name sounds familiar. Marvel. What the hell are you doing in Beacon?"

"My parents live here. We met when I was helping them move." Yes, that's me sucking up. I pulled into her drive and put the CRV in park, waiting to cut the engine until we were done with the call.

Ed laugh, "I trust her that you're a nice guy, Sebastian, or she wouldn't have answered the call."

Emma laughed, "Very true. We're home. Now that you two have met can we continue the inquisition tomorrow night. He leaves in the morning."

"Sure. Harper has awards tomorrow, so wait until after school."

"I will. I can congratulate her.  Give the girls and Jill a hug. I love you."

"I love you, too Emma."

Emma put her hand on my arm and leaned over the console to kiss me, "He'll have your phone number, address, and SAG member ID in five minutes. Ten tops."

We kicked off our shoes and headed to the couch. I sat down and she straddled my lap, giving me a kiss. I decided to tell her what I'd thought. "He was giving you shit, but I could tell he really loves you. He sounded more, I don't know, amused, than anything."

She smiled, her tongue sticking out between her teeth. "He was. He's a lot of fun. He did tell me I had to get prior written approval before going out with a musician."

"I don't think he would have signed off."

"Me either."

I kept my arm on her leg, my hand on her hip. My other hand went to her face to guide her in for a kiss. A very long, slow kiss. I kept my hand on her face, "I don't know how old you are."

"Twenty-eight. I'll be twenty-nine on November twenty third."

"Eight years."

She ignored my statement. "I have a confession." This was going to be interesting. "I said I wouldn't Google you, but I had already checked IMDB the day we met. You hadn't said your last name when you introduced yourself and I wanted to make sure you were you I thought you were. Your birthday's on there."

I smiled with how she wasn’t sure who I was, "You're so cute I want to squish you." I hugged her tight, rocking her from side to side.

She was holding onto me and laughing, "Can I look at Google images? I like looking at you."

I un-hugged her where I could see her face. "You can look where ever you want. Promise me you'll ask me about anything."

Her face said no before she did, "I want pretty pretty pictures not articles or gossip. I’m having too much fun getting to know you. I want to learn about you from you."

I dropped both my hands to her thighs. A week ago I didn't touch her like this. "That means more to me than you can possibly imagine."

Emma shrugged one shoulder, tilting here head toward the shrug, "I think you're gonna mean more to me than you can possibly imagine."

Jesus. Maybe twenty-eight is too young to be afraid to say shit like that. I want to know how she's so fearless.

"I have a pretty good imagination."

"We'll both have to wait and see."

A very nice moment was broken by my phone. Something told me to pick it up. FaceTime and I didn't recognize the number. Emma did, "Ed." She climbed off my lap. "I'm going to grab my tablet. Want me to get your book?"

"Yes, please, outside pocket of my bag."

"Be right back."

I answered and waited for Ed's face to show up. "She told me it would take you five, ten minutes max. You're late."

"Everything takes longer on Sunday." He smiled, "My wife tells me I can be intense and overprotective."

"I get it, she's one of your daughters. I think she's pretty special too." I hoped my sincerity played over FaceTime.

He leaned back on whatever he sat on, "If she's letting us meet, she thinks you're pretty special too."

I smiled and nodded, "I hope so." I heard Emma coming down the stairs, "Please tell me you're tougher than her other dad."

Ed laughed, "He's a cupcake."

Emma put her face next to mine where he could see both of us, "Do not scare him. I like him."

Ed shifted his attention to her, "Should you say that in front of him?"

"Don't be silly. He knows. I would never."

There it is! I’ve been waiting patiently and there it finally fucking is. I turned my head and pulled away to see her, "There's the southern accent I’ve been waiting for!"

Ed smirked, "Wait until she goes back to Georgia. You've got a good two or three days before she loses the accent. The harder she tries the worse it gets."

"Which is why I don't try."

Indignant, but still a little Southern. I snickered. She turned her head and kissed my lips. I winced, “Don't do that. I think I was winning him over."

A young female voice came through, "Is that Sissy?"

"Hi Livvy."

A teenage girl with long straight hair moved in beside her dad. She looked confused, shifting her eyes between us. She settled on me and her mouth dropped open, "Bucky?"

I loved when kids called me by my character, "Who the hell is Bucky?”  A smile lit up her face, “How are you, Olivia? Emma’s told me a lot about you."

Attention back to Emma. "Sissy, you're dating Bucky?"

"I am."

Olivia's hand covered her mouth, "Oh shit!" She pushed her dad's shoulder, "Do not scare him off. I want to meet him. It's six months to Hawaii. Emma, you keep him happy and I'll make dad be nice. I love him." She was looking at me.

"Thank you."

Ed was glaring at me and holding up a finger. "One, Seb, I have a one daughter limit."

"I'm not willing to trade. I like the one I've got."

He smirked, "I'm starting to like you, but it could turn and I will find you."

"I'II try not to give you reason."

Another face came to the other side of Ed’s face. Obviously, his beautiful wife. She looked at me then Ed, "Have you two finished the pissing contest?"

Ed smile at his wife, love filled his face, "We've got a truce."

We stayed on FaceTime for a while longer and I was a little sad when we hung up. Emma stood up and I turned enough for me to grab and pull her over the couch into my lap. Her flailing and squeals made me laugh. I buried my face in her neck, kissing and tickling her. She tried to fight back and I held her wrists. Despite her wiggling I was able to kiss her. That stopped her. But I wasn't wanting serious or to sit here making out. I was still in fanboy mode. "I want to get on a plane and go to Seattle. That was so much fun, even the parts where Ed looked like he wanted to murder me. I got to see you with your family and finally," I looked to the ceiling and shook my fist, "got to hear your southern accent."

"We do have a lot fun together. Not that my parents and sister aren't fun, but it is different."

"Sure. I loved you telling Ed FaceTime would be dangerous. You two going back and forth."

Emma laughed, "We watch Clueless every New Year’s Day."

I punched my thumb and forefinger together, "Spot on."

She combed her fingers through my hair, "Do you realize me seeing you with your family is just as fun for me? Your mom sending you to the other side of the house and watching you two was great. You reverting to a little boy was amusing." She did the thing in my hair again. "And very sweet."

We like each other's family (at least the half I've met) and we like each other. Things are working out well. I rearranged her a little on my lap, "Can we catch up on some making out?"

"Absolutely."

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction

[pasteljeon]

Chapter 1: Peach Blossoms

Peach Blossom - Prunus persica is a plant garnering most of its fame for its association with the peaches of immortality in Chinese mythos that only arrived once every three thousand years. It harkens in the wedding season of spring with its sweet scent and hues likened to the soft color of a girl’s cheeks. Peach trees are grown throughout China and many parts of the plant are used in traditional medicine. It has always been associated with the sweetness of life and the journey that one must go on to find it. It seems that for the boys, this journey has ended.

➟ Based off this request: I’d like to request a multi-part fic with the reader being a solo!idol and the bts boys perhaps being big fanboy of hers? I’d love to see your take on this. I’d love some down and dirty smut too please! from @/stxrlxghtsora

➟ Summary: He was just a fanboy, they got dragged into it, and so blooms your love story.

➟ Pairing: OT7/Reader, non-idol!BTS, idol!Reader

➟ Warnings: *takes a deep breath* dom!reader, sub!jungkook, sub!jimin, blindfolds, edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral (male receiving), light bondage, unprotected sex (please use condoms), basically a jikook sandwich & you’re the meat

➟ Length: 5.4k

➟ In collab with @/sugarcookiesandsins - please give her some love! ♡♡

➟ Notes: welcome back to the first instalment of the smut portion of this series haha, we truly hope you all enjoy and we’d love to take any feedback/thoughts you guys have on this chapter! Another reminder that this is a collab, meaning it is a dual effort. Next part will be posted next Wednesday!

Prev. Next (links are still broken, please refer to my masterlist)

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Since that first day of recording, the boys had successfully managed to infiltrate your life. It seemed like they were no longer contest winners, but artists themselves with the way they passed through the front doors of the company on a daily basis. It also didn’t helped that they had become very good friends with your staff. Both Namjoon and Yoongi had brainwashed the producers into a minor collab and you found yourself staring at their faces behind the glass window in the recording studio. It still felt surreal to them that they were contributing to your music like this. Every word that they came up with flowed out your lips like art they would never get tired of hearing.

On the other side of the spectrum, Jungkook was turning into a familiar face in the studio, always being called in to practice the choreography so that both the shooting and the live performances would go smoothly. In the end, seeing how well the raw footage of the first shoot turned out, the CEO had decided to put Kyungin on hold for the promotions of the mini-album. You had just smiled in response at the announcement, not letting more emotion show than was necessary. Turning to the boys who were also present, you grinned at the light in their eyes.

“I guess we’re gonna be spending a lot more time together.”

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“Jungkookie!” He froze, one foot in his Nike sneakers, the other halfway tugged on. Jimin came bounding over, eyeing him and the duffle bag slung over his shoulder suspiciously. “Are you going back to the studio?”

“Ah, yeah,” Jungkook scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Manager-nim called me in for one final run before tomorrow’s performance.”

“You’re ditching movie night again?” Taehyung called, padding over with one arm cradling a large tub of vanilla ice cream. Jungkook smiled apologetically but could only shrug. “It wasn’t much of a movie night anyway. Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung are both at Slow Rabbit’s studio working on that new song for Tiger.”

“Wait - in that case, I want to come too!” Jimin exclaimed. Jungkook watched helplessly as the boy pitter pattered around the room, pulling on a black sweatshirt - likely Tae’s, given how it hung over the older’s slimmer frame - and pocketing his phone before trotting to meet him at the door happily.

“I’ll pass today,” Taehyung waved off the youngest’s wordless inquiry. “I’m not feeling that great, to be honest. I think I’ll just binge some Game of Thrones and sleep.”

“Aw, Taehyungie,” Jimin said sympathetically. “Drink lots of warm water and rest up. Get better soon.” The said boy nodded, still spooning dessert into his mouth as he stood at the entrance, waiting until they were out of sight before closing the door behind them.

He draped a thick blanket over himself as he wandered by the living room, setting the tub down and rubbing his eyes wearily.

“Well fuck,” Taehyung sighed as he climbed into bed. “That was my chance to see ___, too.”

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Jungkook entered through the front doors of your company with Jimin beside him. He only sent a nod towards the secretary who smiled back, all too familiar with his presence. He walked past the lobby promptly ignoring those that he did not know as he made his way towards the elevator. Jimin hadn’t said a word either, still partially lost in a daze as the reality still hadn’t quite hit him yet. Excitement and trepidation swelled in his chest. Yes he had been here before, both with the boys and alone. Yes, he no longer needed any verification to pass through the doors. Still, this was the place he had been dreaming about. It would take more than a couple days for it to sink in.

“Hey Jungkook. Think she’ll let me practice some moves too?” It was not a secret to anyone that Jimin still felt off about the fact that he didn’t get the opportunity to dance with ___ on stage, but it had subdued, slightly.

“I don’t know, hyung. If we have a little time, then yeah.” Jungkook really didn’t think so, but he did not want to ruin his hyung’s mood. He had been at his mercy once before and would to anything to avoid being in that situation again.

The elevator door dinged, indicating they had arrived in the basement where the studios were. Your laughter was already discernible among the chatter as noise floated out of the open door of your dance studio. They took a deep breath and walked in fully prepared for -

You turned over your shoulder to greet the boys as they walked in, seeing their reflections in the studio mirrors.

“Hello boys.”

- everything but this. They were prepared for everything but this.

As customary before strenuous exercise, stretching was the first order of business whenever you entered the dance studio. Still, you were not an innocent as you thought and decided to take  advantage of the fact that the boys would be walking in from the door soon. With your back to the entrance,  you were stretching with another one of the female dancers. Legs in a split as she pulled you forward. You weren’t lying flat on the floor, but it was just enough for your t-shirt to ride up and expose your backside, clad in some illegally tight leggings.

Jimin and Jungkook shared a nervous glance and swallowed, as they attempted to drag their gaze away from your figure. One went to the locker rooms to drop his bag off and the other to find a sport with the perfect view of both the floor and the reflection in the mirror.

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“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” Jungkook felt himself flush under your gaze, still hot and sweaty from the intense session as he laid sprawled on his back, chest heaving. You were similarly collapsed, lying close to his side. His heart thrummed in his ribcage. He swore your tone was edged with something sweet.

“Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” His lips barely moved, voice hoarse. Your eyes softened, amber irises glowing lightly under the setting rays of the afternoon sun piercing through the windows.

“Like … that.” God, it was a dream. It must’ve been, with the way you stretched your arms out to touch his face. He knew his skin probably felt gross under the grime and layers of sweat coating his bronzed complexion, but you thumbed his cheekbone, peering into him searchingly.

“I …,” his mouth felt dry. He jerked away from you abruptly, sitting up as he turned to stare at the ground. “Ah, I’m not sure … not sure what you mean.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Jungkook felt your heat move away, hurt faintly lacing your tone. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah - noona, no!” His fingers circled your wrist loosely before you could stand. He tugged you back gently, rubbing his neck shyly. “That’s … that’s not it.” He gulped, his grip trembling and cold. “I - I like it. A lot. I like you, noona.” He closed his eyes, hardly daring to breathe at his whispered confession. It seemed to echo in the empty studio, though he knew they had no witnesses, he dimly wondered how pissed Jimin would be once he heard what the youngest had done.

“Jungkook …,” He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, slowly shaking his head as he let go of you. “Um - sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry. That was highly inappropriate of me,” he said hastily, rising to his feet as he bowed to you stiffly, already two feet to the door. “I can - I can ask Jimin to replace me tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” You whirled him around and he dropped his gaze instantly, unable to withstand looking into those penetrative orbs that housed your goddamn soul.

“Hey, look at me.” You coaxed him softly, tipping his chin up, though he refused to comply. You rested your forehead against his.

“I like you very much, Jungkook,” you said honestly. He made a strangled sound, shoving you away. “You’re - you’re lying right? There’s no way,” he stammered. This was too cruel. He slipped from your hold, ducking and scrambling toward the exit once more, grabbing his bag as he passed it.

“Jungkook.” Your tone was firm, unwavering. He dropped his bag the moment you slammed him against the mirrors. “N - noona.” His body reacted instantly, your smoldering gold eyes, your unyielding grip on his arms as you pressed them above his head. He tensed as you smiled down at him.

He made no move to resist as you leaned in, your eyelashes tickling his skin. The first dip of your head was light, tentative and testing, lips barely grazing his. You pulled back to see Jungkook melting into your touch, cheeks pink as he murmured shyly, “Please, noona.”

You kissed him tenderly, releasing him so he could wrap a hesitant arm around your waist and pull you closer. His heart was fluttering in his throat and he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries - where was the line drawn, anyway? - but you quickly dismissed any of his reservations as the kiss grew heated, his tongue tracing the seam of your lower lip.

“W-what about Jimin?” He tore his lips from yours, already panting heavily as his head spun. God, he could barely think.

“What about him?” You tilted your head curiously.

“He - he likes you too.” Oh fuck, Jungkook was going to get his ass beat for admitting this. But he had a feeling you -

A startled squeak had the two of you whipping your heads to the door, where a horrified Jimin was holding an armful of water bottles.

“Oh, haha,” he laughed awkwardly, already beginning to back away as his eyes darted to the side. Jungkook cursed inwardly when he saw the tears pooling though the older boy tried in vain to blink them away.

“Hyung, wait!” Jimin dropped the bottles, desperately searching for an exit as he clasped a hand over his mouth. He skidded through the empty hallways, picking turns at random. His head throbbed, heart twisting. Nothing registered but his laboured breathing and hiccups.

But Jungkook was always faster.

“Let - go!” Jimin struggled as Jungkook dragged him back. Tears that had welled at the corners of his eyes fell freely now and he busied himself by using his free arm to swipe at them angrily.

“Jimin. Shh, it’s okay.” He relaxed slightly when he heard your voice, cooing sweetly into his ear. He felt your hands cup his cheeks delicately and he sniffled.

“Noona,” he blubbered. “I like you - I love you, p-please don’t leave me alone!”

“Jimin, baby, never.” He kissed you back hard, pulling you flush to his body as you tangled your fingers in his thick locks. You smiled affectionately at him as you parted, lifting the hem of your shirt to dry the remainder of his tears.

“I want you,” Jimin gasped, half delirious already, completely forgetting that moments ago he had been trying to escape the image of you and Jungkook. He felt unbelievably hot where your skin met his, and would be willing to do anything to get rid of it. He even seemed to forget that Jungkook was watching all this go down from his end of the hallway as you were shoved against the wall, mouths meeting in a clash of lip and teeth that would one day go down in history.

You allowed him this small mercy, before every cell in your body screamed at you to take control. So you did. Smirking at the odd sense of deja vu, you grabbed his hip and spun your bodies around before locking his wrists against the roughness of the wall and slipping a thigh between his, already feeling the heat from his core touch yours. Against the fabric of your leggings, you could feel the bulge at the front of his jeans.

The dark-haired man looked on from afar as he remembered being held by you in the same position and the way your eyes looked down into his before you stole his voice from his throat. Then the red hot crept up from behind him as his wide eyes began to glare at the image before him. It should be him in that position, not Jimin hyung. Deciding that it was time to bring your attention back to him, he crept up behind you and nibbled on the shell of your ear, causing your own moans to mix with that of Jimin’s.

“Noona hasn’t forgotten about me right?” His voice was a low whisper, the perfect image of a dejected, lonely pet. Freeing up a hand, you reached behind your head to tug gently at Jungkook's hair while pulling away from Jimin. Immediately, his empty mouth latched onto your neck, fulfilling that promise he made to himself the first day he saw you. You gasped out a sweet assurance.

“I’ll never forget you, baby boy.” Your eyes closed in ecstasy as the feeling of two mouths tasting your skin. Even without knowing who was in front or in behind, you could tell from their actions. Jungkook came at you hard and fast, with more teeth pulling at your flesh. On the other hand, there was something softer about Jimin, more reverent as he worshiped you with his plump lips, caressing sweet spots you didn’t even know you had.

In a flash, you remembered where you were: not in the privacy of your dance studio. Using your remaining strength to push them away, you ignored their faces of shock before grabbing both of them and dragging them back to the studio. Once you were inside, you turned quickly and locked the door behind you, extra precaution against any nosy workers.

The boys were still lost in the high that you gave them, much to distracted by the blossoming marks on your neck to care about their reputations. They shared small glance, a silent agreement that this was ok. All of it would be ok, as long as they got you.

They came at you again, this time taking their shirts off in the five strides it took to reach your position. Their blood was rushing through their veins and pounding in their ears, rationality far too gone to care at this point.

You ran a hand down their chests, marvelling at the hard planes of muscle that contracted beneath your touch. Their bodies were chiselled to perfection, lithe and toned from years of strenuous training. They were both trembling, senses heightened and anticipation twisting in their stomachs as they arched into your palm.

“Behave, boys,” you murmured, nails digging into their soft flesh. They gasped aloud, almost in unison. You trailed your hand up to palm their erections, tugging at their balls gently.

“Fuck,” Jimin whined, canting his hips against you as he struggled to obey. Next to him, Jungkook looked like he was barely breathing at all, skin flushed as he tossed his head back and forth. Ah. He was a sensitive one. You licked your lips. So many possibilities.

You tweaked his nipple playfully, Jungkook crying out deliciously. He squirmed, voice breaking as he pleaded, “Noona, d-don’t tease me!”

“But it’s so fun, baby,” you crooned, squeezing his length through his sweats. Jungkook moaned, unable to resist from grinding into your hand.

“I’ll be good, noona, please!” He was at his wits end. This was a side of you he had only dreamed about existing, let alone experiencing. He had seen that attitude you gave off on set and in the dance practice, but he thought that it was a persona you followed for the theme. Seeing you with your silken words and evil smile, playing his body with well-practiced fingers, he could do nothing but submit.

Jimin on the other hand, was too obsessed with the collar of your t-shirt. Your face had been flushed a soft pink when he had taken advantage of you in the hallway. The pastel color had dipped under the neckline of the thin material, and he was wondering silently if you let him follow the color as far as it took him. Impatient to see you, he made grabby hands at the edge of your top. You wasted no time in shutting him down.

“Tsk. Tsk. Does Jiminie want to get punished?” The look in your eyes promised many things as you continued to tease Jungkook over the fabric of his pants with one hand and grabbing at Jimin with the other, staring dead into his brown irises. This made Jimin stop. He didn’t want to risk angering you, so he just avoided your gaze. “No noona. Please don’t punish Jiminie. He only wanted to see you.”

On the other hand, Jungkook saw what you were promising and decided that if he died under you, then he would die a happy man, so why hesitate? Avoiding your hands that were still caressing his bulge, he too proceeded to tug on your shirt. In surprise, you turned to him, eyebrow raised.

Still, the look he gave you in return, a shy half smile, that said more than words ever could told you exactly what he wanted and you were all too happy to oblige.

“Noona doesn’t like it when her boys don’t listen.” You gently raked your nails down their abs one last time before getting up and making your way towards the costume stand. You could feel their stares on your back as your fingers riffled through ironed jackets to find what you were looking for. Turning quickly, you hid the object behind your back before they could take a peek at what you were bringing out. You returned to kneeling before the two of them, Jungkook on your right and Jimin on your left.

You wanted to continue, but there were rules to be established first. Though you were quite assured they would be up for anything with the trusting gleam in their eyes, it was still better to be safe than sorry.

“Rule 1. If, at anytime, you want me to stop, for any reason, say ‘microwave’. Are we clear?” You were firm in your tone. You wanted to make this just as pleasurable for them, but you were not so acquainted with them - not enough to have a thorough understanding of their likes and dislikes, particularly in the bedroom. All you knew was that they would look oh so pretty tied to the headboard of your bed.

Jimin and Jungkook nodded, unable to say anything as the tips of their cocks rubbed against the fabric of their boxers causing some precum to leak out and soak the cotton. Their bodies were tense when your soft hand caressed their cheeks lovingly, eyes showing quelled lust as you established the law of the jungle.

“Rule 2 and Rule 3. You call me noona and you don’t cum till I say you can.” Now you were getting into the territory that caused their hearts to pump blood faster through their system.

“Yes noona.” They barely moaned out an answer as they felt your slim fingers leave their cheeks to trail teasingly down their chests, painted nails not forgetting to graze their pebbled nipples.

Pushing them down, you felt yourself dampen at the sight of them sprawled on the ground, peering up at you though half-lidded eyes. Their silky locks were mussed and they looked fucked out, chests rising and a sheen of sweat glistening on golden, bare skin.

“Tell me if you’re not okay with this,” you whispered, crawling to them until you hovered over Jungkook, a black scarf dangling from one hand. You pinched his inner thigh when you felt his member twitch at the sight. His eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, a soft noise escaping his throat as he propped his head up slightly to allow you to wrap it around him firmly.

Jimin inhaled sharply when you smoothed back the hair at his temple. “Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You swallowed his ghost of a yes as it touched your lips. You checked both boys, ensuring both blindfolds were secure, before sitting back on your heels.

Tugging at the waistband of their sweatpants, you quickly shimmied them off. Swinging a leg over Jungkook’s leg, you settled yourself lightly over thighs. Smirking, you blew gently at his length, relishing in the choked moan that resulted. A wet patch had already pooled at his tip, though you took pity on the poor boy who had begun squirming under your grasp. You freed his erection from the confines of his boxers, and bit your lower lip as it slapped lewdly against his stomach, leaking profusely. It was surprisingly longer than you’d expected, curved at an angle you knew would later prove to be your undoing.  

Jimin, on the other hand, was slightly shorter, though quite girthy. “So pretty,” you cooed. He flushed scarlet, precum beading at his reddened tip at your words. You filed that information away for later, though you should have picked up on it from the start - praise is the way to go. Then again, that wouldn’t be hard. Compliments came easy when you looked upon his form, flushed, needy, and completely under your control.

Taking it to the next step, you wrapped your hand around the base, squeezing to test his reaction. “Noona,” he nearly screamed out from the sensation. It was too much between feeling your soft thighs against his legs and your hand encompassing his member. You released your hold on him as you got up to go get something else you had seen among the fabric of your stage outfits. As you walked, you quickly ditched your own top and pants, the sudden cold near your core indicating just how excited you were.

The next object to be retrieved from the costume area was a white feather, salvaged from a stage costume of a past album. It was smooth and silky to the touch, individual strands thinner than you ever thought possible slipping in between your fingers as you tested the item. Once the blindfolds were in position, the boys felt their other senses heighten, yet they were unable to make out anything other than the shuffling of your body against the floor.

The boys were alone in the silence, unable to prepare for what came next as their ears could only hear shallow breaths echoing off the walls of the studio. Jungkook was the first to writhe as he felt something soft trace the edge of one nipple, sending shockwaves up to his brain. “Please don’t tease Kookie, noona. He’ll be a good boy. He’ll be your good -.” His words were swallowed in a moan as you switched out the feather for your hands, rubbing his swollen nipple between the pads of your fingers.

“I know you’ll be good baby. You want to make noona happy, don’t you?” You allowed him one more caress before you transferred the feather to your other hand, intent on hearing the same beautiful music from the older boy.

Jimin could tell from the way Jungkook sounded that you were playing with the younger boy. This made Jimin a little annoyed as he felt his member twitch with excitement at the prospects of what you were doing. He wanted to feel that. Now.

“Jiminie will make you happy noona,“ he mewled out - a feeble attempt to bring your focus back on him.  

You smiled at his obvious desire to please and decided to reward him for it. You forgoed playing with Jimin’s chest and focused on his member standing to attention. A strangled mewl came from Jimin as you circled the base of his cock with the feather, enjoying as the owner squirmed at the sensation. You circled lower, just catching his balls with the soft sensation before circling back up.

Jimin let out a low curse, “fuck me.” You giggled, a soft sound that contradicted the ruthlessness with which you were playing their bodies. “That’s the idea sweetie,” you crooned out.

Alternating between the soft silk of the feather and the roughness of your nails, you played with boys, basking in the noises of pleasure that they made. You stretched their self control to the limits as you brought them to the edge of euphoria and back multiple times, causing their cheeks to be slick with tears as the sensations were too much.

Deciding that the wait had been long enough, you stripped out of your undergarments, setting them to the side before hitching a leg over Jimin’s waist. His body was wracked in tremors as he waited for you to please fucking sit on me.

Both of you moaned in tandem as you sank down on his length. You littered purple flowers over the expanse of his exposed neck as you adjusted to the slight stretch. “You look so beautiful like this,” you mused breathlessly. Jimin whimpered, already close from all your previous teasing.

“You’re not allowed to come, do you understand?” You rasped. “No, please, I c-can’t hold it!” He whined, and you stopped immediately. Large hands snaked up your torso to cup at your breasts, fondling them gently as a pair of lips suckled at your shoulder. Jungkook pressed his stiff length against your back, arms wound tightly around as he pressed himself closer. “Noona,” he murmured.

You reached back and ran your finger through his sweat-soaked locks. “Yes baby,” you questioned, as you slowly sank back down on Jimin, simultaneously rubbing your ass against Jungkook.

“Can I -?” You rose back on your knees, keeping only Jimin’s tip lodged in you as you used the other hand to reach behind you and rub down Jungkook’s length. His words were lost to the sensation and his sentence remained floating in the air between you.

“Did you say something baby?” His only response was to thrust helplessly in your hand as his fingers played with your breasts, gently pulling and tugging as the soft mounds.

Below you, you felt Jimin get closer and closer to his climax as you rode him faster and faster, lust beginning to cloud your senses as well. His words were incoherent at this point, saliva leaking out the sides of his mouth as he begged for release. “Please. Can I come? Please let me come.”

“So then come baby,” you hummed, clenching on him as Jimin choked, gasping as ropes of hot cum filled your pussy.

“No, Jungkook.” You could feel him panting heavily against you, length twitching. Jungkook whimpered softly; he was so close, the feeling of your ass and hands against his cock.

“Fuck, I’m sorry - !” You felt it drip down the sweaty expanse of your skin, trailing warmth in its path.

You sighed. Jungkook lowered his head, pressing his forehead against your spine. “Punish me … please.”

.

.

.

You lost count of the number of orgasms you’d pulled from the boys. The studio was engulfed in the dying rays of the sun and any sense of time had disappeared in this bubble you’d created for the three of you.

“Noona - please, please!” Jungkook wailed loudly, head tossing side to side as he arched his back, fingers scrabbling for some kind of purchase from where they scratched at the air. His wrists were pinned above his head, bouncing on his cock as he cried.

“I-it’s too much, please,” Jimin’s hoarse voice pleaded from above you, his own hands tied to his back as your teeth scraped the delicate flesh of his length. His thighs trembled as he struggled to keep himself upright, barely registering the bruising of his knees, head spinning in delicious delirium. It was borderline painful, the way you sucked his balls, forcing his cherub cock into a state of half-hardness. “Noona,” Jimin sobbed, throwing his head back as you ran your tongue over his slit. Fuck, fuck! He moaned brokenly as he came. You licked your lips, swallowing the sad dribble of cum that he’d managed to produce.

His knees caved instantly, sending Jimin slumping onto the ground, skin on fire and cheeks coated in dried tears.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was fucking losing his mind. “Please, noona, Kookie’s b-been a g-good boy, please, noona, can I come?” He babbled senselessly, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his hips rose to meet your vicious thrusts.

“Come for me,” you breathed, digging your nails into his chest. Jungkook keened, writhing as he came, the feeling of your walls squeezing his deprived cock sending him careening over the edge as you fucked him through the height of his pleasure.

.

.

.

After both boys hit their high, your name like a prayer on their lips, the three of you took a moment to come back down, not willing to let the memory of what just happened fade away too soon. They were both a verified mess, cum glistening on their skin, mixing with the sweat that resulted from your overstimulation. Both their eyes were half shut under the blindfolds, delirious from fatigue.

They looked absolutely divine.

Seeing as you were the one in most control of your faculties, you got up from the floor, looking down again at the two of them,both very close to falling asleep on the ground. Whispering softly, you promised them that you would be back soon. Walking to the door, you made sure it was locked before grabbing a towel and a water bottle from your backpack, as well as a large hoodie to cover your body.

Wetting the towel and taking off the eye cloth, you proceeded to wipe their bodies down, cleaning them off as you whispered praise. Jimin was first.

“You did so well, baby boy.” The towel passed down his chest around his pelvis, and down to his thighs. “Was that okay?” He could only hmm in response, much too tired to produce words.

Jungkook was next, and to your surprise, looking directly at you with his large eyes, soft demeanor contradicting the mess on his body. You smile softly and ran your fingers through his locks, slightly damp from sweat. “And what about you baby?”

He leaned his head into your touch and turned to kiss your palm, blushing as he spoke, “I-I liked it a lot __-noona.” You cooed in response as his face got redder before focusing all your attention on caring for their bodies. You shifted to grab the towel and exposing a clean section, traced his body again with the damp cloth. You then proceeded to toss the towel in the direction of your backpack so you didn’t accidentally leave it behind for an unsuspecting staff member to pick up. That would be cruel.

The water bottle was used next, as you lifted their heads up slightly to allow the water to wet their dry throats. Being vocal had its downsides too. Then you got them semi clothed, working with what little strength they had left to put on boxers and their t-shirt. Ensuring that the door was locked, you placed yourself between them. They would obviously have to go back to their home, but there was nothing stopping them from pretending that they did not have lives outside of the studio. That there was nothing stopping them spending eternity together.

You lost yourself in the warmth of the boys, half in desperation at the thoughts that clouded your mind. You had no idea how they would be able to interact with you after this. You had no idea what ‘this’ was, even.

As if sensing your panic, Jimin was the first to turn and wrap his arms around you, pulling up close and looking into the eyes that had captivated him for years. He could see the apprehension in your eyes, and it would be pretty idiotic for him to not understand the root cause. Still, for now he would enjoy this bliss with you. Jungkook turned as well, slipping an arm under your neck and slinging the other over your waist as he spooned you from behind.

Then until the sun set, three bodies lay in silence allowing time to slow in this immortal garden you had created.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #sub!bts #sub!jungkook #sub!jimin #jimin smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #sub-bts-network

[willowsandwastelands]

if i don’t go to hell when i die, i might go to heaven

They’d gathered back those stupid fucking stones, Bruce had snapped those big green fingers, and they were there. The world was coming alive with faces Tony had never seen but knew from the reactions of those around them that they weren’t ever expected to be seen again.

They’d done it.

It was impossible, and it came with side effects (namely a homicidal Titan and his unfortunately large army.) But they’d done it anyway.

And it was worth it, because Tony heard a voice. The voice that made him invent time travel, shift realities, move the world over just to hear it again.

“Mister Stark?”

Peter.

Oh, God.

Peter.

The kid was rambling nonsense in the same way he always did, asking dumb little questions about his hair and what he’d been doing but Tony just grabbed him.

Held his kid tight, and knew every sacrifice they’d ever made to get to this point was worth it. Because Peter was in his arms. Safe. Sound.

“Oh, this is nice,” he’d said, drawing a near hysterical laugh out of Tony.

“I missed you, bud.” Though he’d be content to hug him for hours and never let him get close to danger ever again, Tony knew the action wouldn’t wait for them any longer than it had. So he just planted a quick kiss on the side of Peter’s cheek, ruffled his big, brown curls, and went back to the fight with a new found vigor.

Now, he was fighting to keep what he had. Not avenge what he lost.

So when he saw Strange raise his hand, let him know this was their only chance, Tony didn’t think twice.

He knew it was going to kill him. He felt death, his life-long lover rub her hands up his shoulders to tell him she was coming.

And Tony wanted a different endgame.

Because he’d won. He had the most wonderful son (Peter), the most caring family (Pepper, Rhodey.) And he had had the best love. He had Steve.

He had the life, if only for just one fucking moment before he was going to lose it, that he’d wanted years ago when he knew this was how he was going to die.

But he kept his promise to Pepper.

He didn’t regret it.

“I. Am. Ironman.”

He took that big, beautiful life for all it was. And made a victory out of it.

Peter told him as much, though Tony couldn’t thank him. The stones had taken their toll. He was just a man, in the end, after all.

A dying man who loved each and every person around him at the moment.

Tony had believed his whole life that luck favors the prepared. Anyone shocked to know he had a plan in place for this kind of situation didn’t know him at all.

FRIDAY activated the “EDWIN JARVIS” protocol he’d made so long ago, when death was just a little daydream. But it was here now. Quiet.

But here

“Sir.” JARVIS’ somber, calm voice (and oh god, how he’d missed him, couldn’t wait to see him soon in that kingdom they told him about when he was a kid) echoed in his comm ear. “It’s a pleasure to be with you now.”

If Tony could speak, he’d return the sentiment.

Rhodey came first, landed soft on the earth, flipped up his face plate. He was so steady. Strong. Silent. Just as he’d always been when Tony needed him to be. He didn’t try to talk. He knew there was nothing that needed to be said, no words that could be put to this. They both knew what one another meant.

Stay safe.

See you on the other side.

Take care of them. Same as you did for me.

I will. I promise.

Pepper was the next to arrive, and she didn’t say much either. Just her classic, “Oh, Tony.” A watery grin that was somehow as sincere as it was sad.

“Pep,” he tried to whisper, but his lips were far away. His whole body was far away, and drifting farther each moment. “Pep, I…”

“It’s okay.” Thick tears rolled down her cheeks, slipping into the corners of her smiling mouth. “We’re all gonna be okay, now. Thank you, Tony.”

Pepper had never lied to him. Pepper loved him too much for that. And he knew she knew how much he loved her.

Peter came next, and he was young. It was only natural to be scared. Confused. Tony once felt the same, what feels like a million years ago.

“We won, Mister Stark,” the kid had cried, holding his good hand (though he couldn’t really feel the pressure, he was comforted nonetheless.) “Dad— We won, Tony. We won…”

Rhodey caught Petey before he could fall, and that was how Tony knew it’d be alright. Rhodey had been around this block before. He’d know how to help, how to keep his kid safe. They’d be just fine. Tony was comfortable in the knowledge that he was leaving his sun and his stars with the people that’d never let him burn out.

And Steve.

Steve, with the andromedas in his irises.

Steve was last.

Steve found him, and for all his credit, he didn’t cry. Just kneeled beside him, put one big, warm palm on the side of his face that wasn’t burned and the other where the arc was. Held him so steady. Laid the softest of kisses on his unmoving mouth.

“Tony,” Steve has said, gazing at him with more love than Tony had ever seen in anyone’s eyes. It was amazing. And it was somehow for him. “Can you look at me?”

Tony couldn’t. But he did. Because Steve had asked.

“You can rest now, Tony,” he whispered, smiling through the tears that streamed through the dirt and the mud of his face. “You did so well.”

Had he?

Tony looked around again, at his little family. They were all okay. They all would be okay in the world he’d helped to bring about.

And Steve was strong, alive. Just holding his hand.

“It’s time to go to sleep, Tony,” Steve said, laughing a little, the sound wet. A callback to all the nights they’d spent side by side. All the nights Tony had felt safe.

Death loomed over his shoulder, but he didn’t fear her.

He was safe.

“Goodnight, Tony.”

He drifted with no fear at all.

………………

The next five years are a blur. But to Tony, they are the most beautiful blur in the world.

Filled with tears and the taking downs of memorials and the reintegrations of life as it used to be.

It’s so beautiful.

No one’s quite sure how he survived. They took him to the hospital to pronounce him dead, but his heart started beeping before they could zip the body bag. Doctors say it was a miracle.

Steve says it was because he was just too stubborn to die.

Tony figures both have a ring of truth to them.

Regardless, the life he thought had ended went on. He built himself an iron arm, married the man he loved more than anyone else, and, well—

“Dad!” Maria calls, jostling him from where he’s sitting curled up on Steve’s lap. He ignores his husband’s huffs of amusement as he pulls himself upright, but apparently not fast enough for their human tornado of a daughter. “Dad! Dad! Dad!”

“Yeah, pumpkin!” he asks, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Goddamn. He loves his kid. He really does. But he also loves naps.

“Everybody’s here! Get up!” With that, little Maria Margaret Rogers-Stark takes off like a bat out of hell towards their little cabin door.

And Tony can’t help it. He just smiles.

“What are you smilin’ about?” Steve asks, but he’s smiling, too.

“Nothin,” Tony shrugs, pulling on the boots he keeps tucked beneath the couch because he’s domestic like that now. Once he’s got them good and laced, he turns over, kisses Steve on his stupidly beautiful bearded mouth and gets up. “I’m just happy. That’s all.”

Steve laughs, the sound soft and kind. “Me, too.”

Peter, Rhodey, and Pepper are just getting out of the car when he and Steve emerge from their quaint little abode, hand-in-metal-hand.

Their smiles get even bigger when they see each other.

“Mister Stark!” Peter beams (an adoring Maria already superglued to his leg), like he’s still the fifteen year old fanboy Tony met in Queens so long ago and not the top-of-his-motherfucking-class-at-MIT-Jesus-chrIST-is-tony-proud adult he’s grown into.

“Aren’t you old enough to be calling me Tony?” he asks, just to be an asshole. He knows Peter’s answer.

“Aren’t you smart enough to know when you’re beating a dead horse?”

They all laugh a little, breathing in the thick pine air on each inhale, and revel in how everything just feels alright.

Pepper and Rhodey embrace them as they arrive on the porch, hugging one another close.

It’s been a few months since they were all last together— life is busy for just about everyone except Steve and Tony, who’ve decided they’ve donated enough for the cause to earn the privilege of taking some hard-earned time off.

After everything they’ve done, the vast majority of the world is inclined to agree.

“Missed you, Tones,” Rhodey says, once they pull back. “Wilson is a fucking nightmare now that he doesn’t have anyone to match wits with.”

“Aw, come on, sugar bear. We both know you can hold your own.”

And Pepper, who is so wonderfully herself, has to conduct a full field interview before they can even hug.

“How are you, Tony?”

“I’m good, Pep. How are—“

“No, I mean really? Is everything fine?”

“Yes. Why do you always ask if—“

“What about you, Steve? Are you good?”

“Yes, ma’m. Everything is just—“

“And Maria? She’s not still having that cough, is she?”

“No, the antibiotics took care of her. She’s right as rain. Healthy as a horse.”

Satisfied, she finally smiles. Tugs them both in for a warm embrace that just makes Tony feel so impossibly whole.

“There better be something unhealthy for dinner,” she jokes as she steps into the house. “Bruce hasn’t been making anything except kale salad at the towers for weeks.”

“Don’t worry,” Tony placates, remembering just how awful some of the green concoctions his old friend made could taste. “Maria is on a real cheeseburger kick lately.”

“Wonder where she got that,” Steve muses sarcastically, slipping a sinfully beautiful glare Tony’s way.

And Tony just rolls his eyes, kisses him quick (for no other reason than just loving him) and pulls them inside.

The small family laughs the night away. They talk about Peter’s internship awkward moments, Pepper attempting to navigate the rescue armor, Rhodey’s idiot coworkers, Tony and Steve’s coincidentally best and worst parent moments till they’re all shedding happy tears. They talk all the way up until the early hours of the morning, and Maria’s fallen asleep in the crook of Tony’s neck, drooling down his shirt.

When he tucks her in, she mumbles, “I love you three-thousand.”

And when he comes out, thinking of his daughter, sees Pepper, Rhodey, Peter. Steve.

He knows he loves them even more.

#tony stark #emma writes #steve rogers #pepper potts #rhodey #jarvis #avengers endgame #endgame spoilers #endgame fix it #avengers fic #tony x steve rogers #stony #hahaha im a crack head #peter parker #iron dad #endgame fix it fic #fic rec #avengers fic rec #marvel #stony fic rec #this is an excerpt so if u wanna read the whole thkng #i think the link works

[bnha-heroofheadcanons]

All might xfem reader. Reader was once a villain but has since retired from that life, one day reader uses her quirk to save a green haired boy. All might sees reader using her quirk and recognizes her.

For some reason I was banging my head against a wall for a moment for this one. Hope you like it! (I’m doing this post Izuku getting powers at least I think the green haired kid is supposed to be Deku anyway XD)~~~

You had quit being a villain quite some time ago, you’ve even gone to the police, gave them all the names of the people you used to work for and then moved to an entirely new area with an entirely new name. What had inspired your sudden turning over of a new leaf? That was a simple answer to a not so simple question, in the end it was All Might’s fault you’d turned your back on evil. You and he had fought once and he had very easily wiped the floor with you, what had struck you though was how he constantly smiled as he did his work. A symbol of peace so powerful it had struck a cord within you from when you were a child, before everything had gone bad.

You were on a probation period for about five years before you could pursue being a hero, you were patient thankfully so the wait and mediocre work you’d done while waiting wasn’t so bad. When you did become a hero fully it was the best thing choice you had ever made. You weren’t very popular but you worked hard!

You normally just patrol around the city taking care of petty criminals but today you were in pursuit of a kidnapper. They were extremely quick and you had to push your quirk to its limits to keep up! When you do finally corner the villain you’re breathing heavily but use your quirk to capture the enemy with ease, pulling the kid under your arm protectively. “Y-You’re quirk is really amazing!” The kid says staring up at you with a fanboy glint in his eyes and you laugh, dragging the villain out of the alley and keeping the kid at your side.

What you don’t expect is when All Might suddenly appears before you, the kid, and your captured villain grinning. “Never fear, kid! Why you ask? Because I am here!” His catchphrase startles you but he’s so fast he grabs the kid and the villain from you, giving you a good knock to your side to slam you into a wall. “Haven’t we done this song and dance before girl!? Didn’t you learn last time?”

You cough, letting out a small screech of agony because you can feel that your side is already bruising from the blow. You are, to say, fairly pissed off at the moment and glare darkly at All Might, before your gaze drops to the villain who’s no longer in your grasp, he’s being released from your quirk and has a blade aimed at the kid. Without thinking you run forward, ducking All Might’s smash; though just barely, and putting you body between the blade and the child. That blade sticks in your leg but before it drops you, you’re able to manage a spin kick knocking him into a wall and recapturing him. “Damn you All Might! I was just fine until you fucking showed up!” You drop to one knee panting.

The kid is busy fanboying at first but when he sees you drop he panics and starts fretting over you. “Oh no Miss! Are you okay!? We should get you to a hospital and call the police and ahhh!” All Might blinks, extremely confused staring at the kid. “All Might! She saved me you’ve gotta help her!”

The supposed symbol of peace blinks again, “What are you talking about kid? Last I knew this woman was a villain.” Angry still you tap All Might’s legs…and tie them together making him face-plant straight into pavement! “What the hell!? That’s not hero-like behavior at all!”

“Yeah well I got injured this badly because of you! Also my side is bruising cuz of that hit and it’s kinda hard to breathe so if you could do what the symbol of peace is supposed to, and save me, I’d appreciate that!” You snap at him, seriously he should have asked before suddenly attacking you! Besides that how did he even recognize you, you’d dyed your hair to hide more and wore colored contacts even! Oh…right your Quirk is kinda unique you supposed.

Grumbling and muttering All Might picks up the kid, you, and the villain; making sure you’re able to keep your hands on him and leaping into the air headed for a hospital. What the kid and the villain don’t notice though, that you do is All Might spitting up a small amount of blood. He’s still grinning and pretending he’s fine though. “Once we get to the hospital I’m going to go call the police to get our villain. I don’t have time to be dilly-dallying!”

At the hospital you watch as All Might immediately runs off, the police arriving shortly later along with Recovery Girl from UA, she heals you and despite your loss of stamina you don’t hover around the hospital, you give your report to them quickly and efficiently and then run outside. Despite the trouble he’d caused you, you still wanted to thank All Might so you breathe deeply, following the small traces left on All Might’s skin from your quirk earlier, it would fade soon but maybe you could find him fast enough! You’re running despite your drained energy and eventually you track down where he should be, only to slam smack into a tall lanky guy who spits up blood and coughs. “Ah! I’m really sorry, are you okay!? We should-“ The guy is really trying to run from you it’s obvious right away and when you look down, you see your trace fading from his leg. “All Might…?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says very quickly, very defensively. You stare wide eyed and as you open your mouth to say his name again he covers your mouth, “Shut up would you!? How the hell did you even realize it was me, kid? Don’t call my name like that again.” You glare but nod and he uncovers your mouth. “Seriously this is the worst timing, I’m guessing you want to know what’s up, but you were a villain last time I saw you so I won’t tell you anything.”

“That’s fine, I understand why that is. Ah…but I wanted to thank you.” He blinks startled staring at you while you’re now blushing and squirming under his scrutiny. “You see…when you kicked my ass back then and I really saw you in action…It reminded me of something I’d wanted to do before I’d taken that wrong turn in my life. Y…You inspired me to change everything! So…um…thank you so much.” You look up at him grinning and he seems shocked into silence before his face starts to go a strange shade of red.

He really couldn’t stop the heat rising in his face, he hadn’t expected the once villain girl to have such a bright and lovely smile, it had caught him off guard. He couldn’t say he was a fan of the new hair color or the eye color; he had always remembered that girl for some reason; but it was definitely you he’d once fought. He manages to control his expression again and places a hand on your head, “That’s what the symbol of peace is supposed to do…and…I wouldn’t mind seeing you more, just to see how you’re coming along.”

You raise one eyebrow in a question, surprised, “Are you asking me out?” You’d said it as a tease, you hadn’t been serious at all, but his sudden nervous hand twitch on your head, the blush rising, and the looking away were all very telling. “Wait!? Really!? Don’t you travel a lot though!? How could we even-“ He cuts you off by covering your mouth again.

“I’m gonna be a teacher at UA this year, I…gotta find a worthy successor for my quirk. That’s a secret by the way so don’t go telling anyone. Anyway I’ll be in the area, you should call me Toshinori so we don’t confuse people when we’re out together.” You pull his big hand away from your mouth huffing some at him, your haughty nature just far too prominent.

“You’re awful confident I’ll say yes Toshinori.” You snicker a bit then but before he can say a word you nod, “Yeah that’ll be fine with me anyway. I’ll see you around then Toshi~” You write your phone number on his hand with a sharpie from your pocket and then walk away waving laughing softly as you listen to him muttering under his breath about ‘reckless women.’~~~

Once the idea started going I just couldn’t stop and I thought giving her an attitude would be fun. I hope you liked this one!

#all might #toshinori yagi #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha blog #one for all #toshinori yagi x reader #all might x reader

[demyrie]

Hanakotoba (Camelias are for Longing)

Summary: Three (two) mischievous teachers have some questions about a certain Symbol of Peace and his old arch-nemesis, the reformed "Nature’s Revenge” villain Mandrake. So how did this turn into a discussion about the secret language of flowers?

Tags: oneshot, OTeach3 goodness, flustered Toshinori, mention of sex, implications that there are MHA in-world hero fanzines with dirty content because there fucking are, vague one-sided All Might/OC reference, light Erasermight because I have no self-control, random flowershop AU nod

Notes: I love the superhero genre really I do, including steamy archenemy chemistry. This came out of ... so many things, but mostly a need to embarrass Toshinori and have the OTeach3 fangirl/fanboy out. Enjoy.

Yagi Toshinori was finally, finally getting into the swing of teaching. He no longer became lost in UA's labyrinthine hallways and had committed to a briefcase for his materials, which 13 had courteously alphabetized with charming space-themed dividers. He even took his lunch break every day and the relentlessness of education – most of all the sense there was always something to be catching up on or looking over to better his students' experiences – left him so little time to truly worry or think about his old life that it almost seemed as if he had left the hyper-vigilance and cutthroat instincts of All Might in the past.

That is, until he entered the staffroom one afternoon and a very particular threesome of heroes instantly fell silent and turned to face him and the fine hair on his arms rose in definite warning.

Supremely startled, Toshinori gave Kayama, Yamada and Aizawa a halting smile before ducking his head and heading in, their joint gaze drilling into his back all the while. The terrible three let him get as far as the counter and the electric kettle: As soon as he had filled the kettle for tea and turned it on, there was a stifled rustle and somebody ostentatiously cleared their throat.

“Heyyyy, so, Yagi-san! My man!”

Yamada-san, of course. The frontman for their less savory ideas.

“How can I help you, Yamada-san?” he asked unsurely, still not quite willing to turn around, and so busied himself with righting the tea box. The kettle creaked to life far too slowly. Escape was not an option.

“Psh, I told you to call me Mic!” came the rejoinder, brash and indulgent. With a creak of leather that implied he was leaning back or settling in, 'Mic' continued, tone almost wheedling. “I mean, you've been with us long enough, you're part of the UA family! In fact, All Might, big guy, I feel like we're really close now. Aren't we? I feel like we are.”

“Stop,” Aizawa's deep voice cut in, almost making Toshinori jump. Something was strange about the command, but was Aizawa really that opposed to him fitting in?

“I'm, ah … maybe?” Toshinori mumbled as he turned around, unable to delay it any longer in the name of politeness. Even as he knew it was coming, the sight of the three of them arranged around the staffroom table and watching him unblinkingly made him tense down to his toes and feel like he was stepping into a network of boobytraps. Human boobytraps. Confirming his fears, Mic tilted his head, grinning.

“Soooo can I ask you something?”

“Don't do it,” Aizawa said loudly, unmoving behind his battered UA laptop. Mic ignored him, instead knocking his green glasses down his nose with roguish panache.

“Be honest with me, big guy. Did you and Mandrake ever get it on?”

“Did Mandrake and I – pardon me?” Toshinori gasped, mouth falling open. If he had been holding a mug, he would have dropped it.

They erupted into peals of laughter – or Kayama and Mic did, shoving and slapping at each other, while Aizawa shook his head and glared determinedly at his laptop screen, resuming his typing with clear annoyance.

“That means no,” Mic snorted when he found the breath, a hand to his face.

“Or only once, in a fit of long-buried passion only freed by battle!” Midnight screamed, holding a finger underneath her nose as if to abort a nosebleed and stamping her heels underneath the table in glee.

“You guys,” Aizawa sighed so deeply he threatened to deflate on the spot, leaving the older hero looking between them all open-mouthed with a pounding heart. He was missing something – he had to be – and couldn't put the pieces together. Was this new slang, or a joke? What connection could be made between one of his first arch-nemeses and sex?

“What? I'm afraid I don't understand. This was in order … to … defeat him?” Toshinori eked out, a hand to his (apparently weak) heart.

At that, Mic started laughing so hard Aizawa had to Erase him briefly or risk losing the entirety of the faculty lounge mug collection, the lift of his tangled hair as lackluster as the glare Eraserhead was fixing him with.

“Oooh! Is that how you did it, during that showdown in the thunderstorm?” Midnight cooed, giving a saucy wink. She wiggled in her chair. “We always wondered. The broadcast went dark, after all.”

“No!” Toshinori yelped as the heat rose in his neck, threatening to choke him even more than these preposterous theories. He shook his head, bangs wagging frantically. “No, please, why are we talking about Mandrake like this? He's reformed, you know, and a very valuable member of the League!”

“Yeah, which means you saw his potential even then, right?” Mic wheezed, patting his throat with a glance at his best friend, like a promise not to go supersonic again. Then he sighed, pillowing his cheek on his fist. “Dude, even I gotta admit, when you guys were enemies? Before you were frenemies? You had this vibe. All the staring. All the sweaty battles and the weird, possessive pride he took in being your rival and the way you kept swearing to bring him to justice with your own two hands.”

Toshinori waited for something further to clarify the string of technically objective statements, heinously lost. Mic shrugged.

“Like, you were clearly banging.”

“But we weren't,” Toshinori protested, little more than a rasp.

“What Mic is saying is that there was tension there. And it was kinda horny,” Kayama said evenly with a pass of her tongue over her lips, blue eyes gleaming. Aghast and frozen, Toshinori looked to Aizawa, who he could count on to be objective if nothing else. To his despair, the Erasing hero shrugged.

“Above average levels of horny,” he mumbled, continuing to type.

“I mean, that was pretty much the whole Golden Age arch nemesis vibe if I'm gonna be honest,” Midnight said with a throaty sigh, leaning back. “Like, soooooo much could have been solved if you'd just dropped trow.”

“She has some X-rated fanzines from academy if you want a step by step,” Mic snickered, earning himself a fond and entirely proud whack on the shoulder from the pervert in question.

“I ...” Toshinori said into his hand, singularly mortified. “O-oh my.”

“Please ignore my sex-obsessed idiots,” Aizawa said just loudly enough to be heard over his friends demented snickering. “They haven't been outside today and it's clearly warping their minds.”

“I haven't been outside in weeks,” Mic boasted, turning a gleaming insane grin toward Toshinori. “It's finals!”

“You can breathe, Yagi-san, you know we're just teasing you,” Midnight assured him after a moment, clearly trying to put him at ease. “We all know things were still a little rough back then and everyone had their little tensions and melodramas. We just thought, since we had the source right here, we could put a silly rumor to rest and –”

But Toshinori had a hand over his eyes and was frozen against the counter, towering body as stiff as a board. Midnight tilted her head.

“Um, Yagi-san?”

“I'm just … thinking ...” he began hoarsely. He dropped the concealing hand and took a deep breath and realized, self-consciously clutching his arm, that the entire table was looking up at him with wide eyes. Even Aizawa, and that was saying something.

“After Mandrake reformed and we had our first meeting as the League, at Tokyo hall, he … well, he sent me a gift. Personally.”

“And?” Midnight gasped, a hand to her chest. Mic grabbed her elbow, leaning in and nodding vigorously.

“And he asked me to see him as more than an ally,” he finished very quietly. There was a beat where the staffroom was profoundly silent, the only sound the labored hissing of the electric kettle.

“Did heeeeee ask you to see him as a brother? Maybe?” Mic offered somewhat hopelessly, wincing.

“No,” Toshinori mumbled, feeling his neck warm horribly again. “Just more than.”

“And you thought that was him being honorable and polite,” Aizawa said flatly, clearly extremely disappointed in him.

“It was both honorable and polite, what else was I supposed to think?” Toshinori protested, long fingers tangling desperately with his tie. “Our history as rivals was all the news outlets were talking about at the time and I-I didn't have any context!”

“Well, what was the gift?” Mic asked. “That should have given you some context, huh?”

“It was …” Toshinori paused, and excruciatingly so. Seeing the three of them lean forward, eyes widening even further, Toshinori ducked into his hand again. “A very tasteful flower arrangement.”

It was a curious thing, to hear three people gasp in unison and with such a sense of outrage.

“I had just moved in to a new agency, so I thought ...” he began reedily, knowing how idiotic it sounded even as it left his mouth.

“What kind of flowers?”

Now it was everyone's turn to stare and blink at Midnight, who frowned at him and flipped her silky hair over her shoulder.

“A former villain with a Quirk that controls and creates plant life, who once made Tokyo tower into an absolutely gorgeous trellis during one of his attempts to take over the city, and you didn't think to look for hanakotoba?”

“I thought they were very nice,” was all Toshinori could offer, to the raucous groaning of the assembled heroes and, apparently, the sole retainers of common sense. It was clear that none of them were going to let him walk out of the staff room without entirely embarrassing himself – even Aizawa was committed at this point, possibly through spite alone – so Toshinori grimaced and thought back.

“It was … mostly white and red and yellow. Very densely petaled white flowers, so, camelia I think? Also bigger ones, with thick white splayed petals, possibly gardenias. There were red carnations, forget-me-nots ... daffodils. Oh, and one giant sunflower.”

He listed them off with a frown, plundering the very shallow depths of his horticultural know-how and the distant memory that had previously been a blip on his radar in terms of potential love confessions. Luckily, they were all relatively common flowers even if the arrangement itself was bursting with professional skill. It had been beautiful, he realized with a surge of regret, and thoughtful and Mandrake had been very odd about delivering it. Personally. With minimal eye-contact or explanation. He cleared his throat.

“That's it. The wrapping was blue, too, so I thought it very kind that he'd, er, matched my color scheme.”

For a moment, Midnight just looked up at him. And looked. And looked. And then slowly, delicately put a hand to her head and sighed.

“So. Starting with the least suspicious of the bunch, daffodils mean deep respect. So that's nice.”

The predatory look on her face indicated that 'nice' was a horrendous understatement for what was to follow. She ticked them off on her perfectly manicured fingers with a widening cheshire grin.

“Carnations could be fascination or love depending on the color, but if they were red, that's no question. Gardenias mean secret love. Forget-me-nots are for true love. Sunflowers are for passionate love and radiance. And camelias mean –”

“Longing,” Aizawa finished sourly, glaring up at the older hero as if personally affronted.

“Dude?” Mic whispered, staring at his best friend like he was dreaming. Aizawa, caught, snorted and forcibly returned to his work.

“You know my parents are florists,” he muttered, looking a little angry that the buried knowledge had escaped him in front of his friends. Mic cackled obnoxiously then seemed to catch up on all of the righteous indignation that he should have been feeling, abruptly cutting himself off and whirling to look at Toshinori with an open mouth.

“It was a love confession! Mandrake went out on a limb for you, Yagi-san! A rickety, be-flowered tree limb of secret love!” he exclaimed, deeply offended and deeply loud. He covered his mouth just for effect. “I bet you didn't even text him back, you cad.”

“Actually, we didn't have texting at the time, so ...” Toshinori shook his head and refocused on the unfortunate conversation and the even less fortunate truth. He sighed heavily, brow furrowed. “Oh my. I genuinely thought it was a peace offering of sorts. Considering.”

“The only peace he was offering was a piece of ass,” Aizawa snorted, apparently unable to keep himself out of the conversation. Midnight barked out a laugh and Toshinori coughed so sharply that bright red blood streaked his lips, hastily bending and yanking a worn handkerchief out of his pocket.

“Aizawa-kun, please!” he croaked through the cloth, mortified. Aizawa shrugged and Mic sat his chin on his hands again, pouting.

“Dude, you missed out. I bet he really loved you.”

“Oh shut up Mic, don't say such irresponsible things,” Midnight scolded him, smacking the back of his head.

Mic whined back and they devolved into familiar bickering over the best way to confess love or what obligations came with what kinds of confessions, including what kinds of confessions they had made in their youth and what they had really expected from it. Despite his friends wheedling, Aizawa's contributions were limited to refusing to indulge them on any further knowledge on the language of flowers and ordering them to get back to work and do something useful for once. The usual.

Somehow finding himself passed over as the center of attention, Toshinori quietly filled his mug with hot water, picked a teabag and made a hasty exit while they were distracted, frowning all the while.

��They feel bad for bringing it up.”

Toshinori looked up from where he sat on his customary lunch bench, blinking at the combination of direct sunlight and the unexpected shadow of Aizawa Shouta hanging over him.

He had just come outside for a little bit of fresh air and Aizawa's approaches were unrivaled in stealth, leaving him little room to react. Stunned, Toshinori didn't respond, or he didn't respond quickly enough, so his fellow instructor continued, regarding him with little patience over the crest of his coiled capture weapon.

“Mic and Nemuri. They feel bad for bringing up you and Mandrake.” When Toshinori still couldn't find anything to say, Aizawa sighed heavily, crossing his arms and glaring into the distance where the children milled around on the green, in the sun. “Because it's obvious that you're taking it hard and you're distracted. Upset.”

As little as he spoke, Aizawa was nothing if not observant: Toshinori was certainly distracted and he was certainly upset and he had no idea how to deal with either.

Tangling with such a delayed and important realization had consumed him over the past few days and showed no sign of slowing, especially when he thought about what the next step should be. He was lost in thoughts and regrets, trying without success to triangulate his and Mandrake's rocky relationship over the years and the battles: what it was, and what his now-comrade hoped it could have been. He felt paralyzed, mentally stuck in his doorway on that day and endlessly replaying how jaunty and utterly dismissive he must have seemed in taking the bouquet. The confession.

How could he have done such a thing? How could he not have known? It was all too much, but was it too late?

So, in keeping with his preceding uselessness, Toshinori just cleared his throat and tapped his long fingers together, looking askance. He hoped that Aizawa would give in to their general lack of accord and bad track record and consider his professional duty done with this short inquiry. Be on his way, and leave him to his guilt.

Then, of all things, Aizawa sighed again and took a seat next to him on the bench with peak reluctance, making the hair go up on the older heroes neck.

What, exactly, was happening? Did Kayama and Yamada send him to scold him back into shape again? It was too strange and too unprecedented and suddenly he hardly remembered how to breathe normally.

“How long ago was it?” the homeroom teacher asked, lacing his hands between his knees and staring out at the sun-soaked grass. Once again, as if the man had bound him in his carbon fiber reins, there was clearly no escape. Toshinori swallowed audibly, nudging his own knees closer together to make room.

“Eight … maybe nine years ago.” Toshinori sighed heavily and shook his head. “He did put himself out on a limb, and after we'd been through so much ... It must have taken a lot of courage. Regardless of how long it's been, I have an apology to make.”

“And what would you be apologizing for?” Aizawa asked. “For not knowing what he meant, or for not feeling the same way?”

Toshinori looked over at him, startled, and Aizawa boldly met his gaze, silent and expectant. It was probably the most words they had exchanged in their entire relationship and Toshinori was caught between the urge not to mess up and the urge to just run away, out from under this exacting man's eyes. And the question itself?

There was so much history between the two of them, it was hard to parse. There was the basic shame of not knowing what he meant, not understanding the gesture or the weight of it, true … but also the pervasive regret that he had personally let Mandrake down. Someone who had very strong feelings for him, and yet those feelings were unreturned. Mandrake was a good hero and a better man and Toshinori felt blindly guilty that he had disappointed him in such a personal and heartless way, so what was there to do but apologize?

“Both, I suppose,” he admitted, frowning down at his shoes.

At that, Aizawa shook his head impatiently.

“That's the problem with you. You'll take any excuse to feel guilty,” he snorted, the sheer derision in his tone making the older hero want to shrink into his oversized jacket. “It's no shame you weren't interested in him, but a decade later you're acting like it was a poor personal choice you made out of spite.”

It was all Toshinori could do to stare at him, skin chilling nonsensically. Aizawa continued, relentless.

“It's a useless apology, one that doesn't deserve the breath it would take to say it. The world isn't in your hands anymore, All Might, and sometimes misunderstandings happen. Especially when there are flowers involved, which is a poor substitute for actual communication,” he finished grimly, like he had a lifetime of flower drama stories locked away in his childhood. Then he shrugged, absently scratching at his unshaven chin.

“That's life and you have to let it go and move forward. Otherwise you'll drown in what you didn't do and be of no use to anyone, yourself included.”

Toshinori didn't know what to say to that, at first, as shock and offense and denial warred in him. Then it came to him, because it was really rather simple.

“Ah. Thank you, Aizawa-kun,” he said hesitantly. Smiled. “He's a good man and a good friend, but maybe it's a little too far along for these kinds of regrets. You ... I think you might be right.”

It wasn't exactly a revelation, after all. He could very well be a sentimental old fool prone to self-castigation for things he had no control over. Maybe.

Next to him, Aizawa snorted and quickly stood, their strange truce apparently over in an instant. Had his friends really sent him, or was this something he had chosen to do on his own? Toshinori really knew nothing about him. He watched in dual discomfort and curiosity as the younger hero paused to instill a few eyedrops and shake out his tangled mane, grimacing.

“Just stop brooding,” Aizawa said when he'd finished, replacing his eyedrops in his utility belt and shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned to go. He glanced over his shoulder. “You're winding my idiots up and it doesn't fit your type.”

“Ah, am I encroaching on your edgy Underground style?” Toshinori called after him, chuckling, but Aizawa was already gone around the corner, leaving the Symbol of Peace sitting on a warm bench with nothing but the distant chatter of students and the breeze for company. Despite the scraped feeling of being scolded in such a way, he felt lighter already. Simpler.

Perhaps, instead of an apology, he would send Mandrake a flower arrangement. A very … platonic flower arrangement, full of respect and appreciation. Focus on what he could offer, instead of what he couldn't. He felt a faint heat in his face and hid a smile from no one in particular.

Maybe he would ask Aizawa for help in putting it together.

#erasermight #bnha #all might #toshinori yagi #boku no hero academia