#you tired of these boy howdy me too!

[ashmcgivern]

More Malotz relevant stuff!!

Top there is Wilde, Malotz’s nephew, Caleb’s son. He grows up to be in an investigator/interpool sort of position. He’s on the case! 

Middle is a scenario of Wilde getting in trouble for something Malotz putting him up to, Caleb using it as a learning tool, and Malotz proceeding to be the most insufferable younger brother. 

Bottom is Taya, Caleb’s wife! We love a lady Knight in this house. 

#asharts #malotz #caleb #wilde #taya #im too tired to tag these meaningfully #can you tell im nearing the end of my queing energy #boy howdy its been a long time for yall but for me its been 4 hours of nonstop queuing #lots of content

[lokirulzart]

WILD WEST AU!!!!

You ever notice that when fools do a western AU, they cheap out on the horses or ignore them entirely??? WELL NOT HERE, FOLKS. ONLY THE HIGHEST QUALITY HORSE CONTENT. BECAUSE I LOVE Y’ALL AND ALSO HORSES.

Frank has a snooty Appaloosa because he’s fancy, but also appaloosas are reliable trail horses, so that means he can go bug collecting without worrying much. His insect collection is the envy of all the rich collectors in the whole county.

Wally ended up with a chestnut Arabian mare, because Wally is too small for a bigger horse and I just think it’s funny. HANG ON THERE, PARDNER!! SHE’S A WILD ONE!!! Luckily, Wally is usually unaware of his own horse acting up, and the mare ends up tiring herself out just because Wally simply doesn’t even notice her… he’s too busy spacing out. But he’s one of the best Bronco Busters around thanks to her!

Hunter/trapper/fur trader Barnaby has himself a lovely Shire mare with a sweet and patient disposition. She has no trouble carrying whatever Barnaby has hunted as well as big ol’ Barnaby himself… but he still feels bad about making her work, so he only ever hunts what he needs to in order to get by.

Julie and her mustang are BOTH wild. Julie had the chance to tame her, but instead she just fed off of her spirited energy and now the two of them just tear around being crazy together, getting into trouble, rolling in the dust… Julie wouldn’t have it any other way.

What better steed for a Pony Express postal worker than a sure footed mule?! Seriously, mules are the mountain goats of the equine world. Eddie’s mule might not be as fast of a sprinter as some horses, but this animal can trek over ANY terrain, ensuring that all of the mail gets delivered on time. They have yet to miss a single delivery.

(Snake oil) Salesman Howdy Pillar has a general store in town as WELL as a covered wagon to travel around, ensuring that everyone gets the best deals on their pork ‘n’ beans, biscuits, tobacco, and tonics. You want it? Howdy’s GOT it… and his team of 3 dapple gray Connemara ponies, and one brown one, will make sure that you can get it… also the tallest character having the smallest horses makes me giggle.

Poppy doesn’t have a rideable horse yet, which is perhaps for the best. She spends a lot of time at Howdy’s general store or riding in his wagon. She is his best customer. But she has recently come by a thoroughbred foal that she is now raising from a bottle. So perhaps one day very soon Poppy will have her own tall and elegant steed to carry her around… let’s just hope he’s not too fast for her.

Sally is a performer at the local saloon by night and helps out with cleaning during the day… she knows NOTHING about horses… but one night, after all the local drunks went home, a poor American Paint got left behind. Nobody came back to claim the animal, so Sally boards him at the local ranch and visits often. She hopes one day to learn how to ride him, but it’s slow going. She is, after all, a singer and actress first.

AND THEN HOME THE SALOON!! YOU DIDN’T THINK I’D FORGET HOME, DID YOU?? He has a small stable in the back and a second floor, where Wally lives! Wally gets to spend all his free time hanging out, meeting up with his friends, and drinking all the apple juice he wants! (Just don’t tell him it’s apple juice, he’ll get confused. He thinks he’s just drinking whiskey like everyone else. It’s easier this way.) Also Home is the only saloon that can kick out belligerent drunk people itself!

Also Bonus OCs, Luna O’Hare the bilingual cartographer (created by @m0stlygh0st) and Simon, my boy, the ranch hand! Luna has an Andalusian that she likes to dress up, braid it’s mane, and stick flowers in it-… as snacks for later. They’re also grazing buddies and Luna can often be found eating the horse feed because it’s so similar to rabbit food. Simon has a gelding Quarter Horse with golden retriever energy and not a single braincell to his name. Poor Simon… but at least his horse loves him.

YEEHAW!!!! 🤠

#welcome home #wally darling #frank frankly #barnaby b beagle #julie joyful #Eddie dear #howdy pillar #poppy partridge #sally starlet #welcome home oc #cowboy AU #western AU #wild west AU #horses

[jeffersimp]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐇 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 "𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲" 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦?

See my masterlist here!

×A/N×

Hey!! Yes, I know, I have some few inbox that I should answer, and don't worry, I will, just let me do a quick post here- -w-

So I'm back with the promised WH headcanons! And I hope you will like them :D

(And yes, it has a short plot now. I did it. I wrote it. ✨

×❢ About my work ❢×

Fluff fluff, all is fluff! No pronouns used for the reader, but good boy/girl mentioned, even if it's expected, there's no smut. Although Howdy is a bit teasing, but it's not r rated so •-•

Fandom: Welcome Home horror project by Clown

Character(s): Wally Darling, Howdy Pillar, Barnaby B. Beagle, Frank Frankly, Eddie Dear, The Reader|You| (Y/N) |Neighbour

Ship(s): The Characters / The Reader|You| (Y/N) |Neighbour

Form: Headcanons

𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈: LoveGame by Lady Gaga

('cause that is next on my playlist •_•)

“Let's play a lovegame, play a lovegame

Do you want love or do you want fame?

Are you in the game?”

(All illustration belongs to Clown!)

Wally Darling

It was quiet in his house, even Home didn't let out a single crack until this moment. There was just one problem. You haven't seen your dearest puppet oh so long ago. The plan was that you two will have a cuddle time together, but he was nowhere. 

You got up from the couch and carefully looked around in the house. You cautiously called out his name, but no one responded. 

You walked around in the house a little bit, hoping to find him. 

He had his own painting room where he could make his own fantasy alive with the brush. 

You walked closer carefully, not to scare him. Even so, he could actually clearly hear you sneaking up behind him, but he was more focused on the picture. 

You peaked through his shoulders to see what he was up to. 

Oh. My. Gosh. Your heart skipped a beat. He was painting a picture of you. How cute! Wally was a very talented artist and you were very amazed in this moment. He always did such a great job. 

"This looks so great, Wally! You are such a good boy!" you said quietly, while you gently placed your head on his shoulder. 

• it comes off to him like compliment

• and it's from you

• his sweetest neighbour

• of course, he is happy! ♡

• "Thank you, Neighbour!"

• he smiles at you happily, hoping that you like his work

• "Do you like it, Neighbour?" 

• omg ofc you like it! How could you not?! 

• He is so happy about the compliment and about that you're liking his work. 

• he just stares at you happily with open mouth, listening your cheerful voice while you commenting of him and his art

Eddie Dear 

Eddie came home and you could tell, he was clearly exhausted. Poor boy, running back and forth all day, and do this job all alone, it must be tiring. 

He got down next to you, just quietly lied down on his back and put his head on your lap. 

"Hey." you said softly, curling his hair gently with your fingers. 

"Hey, love!" he looked at you with his tired eyes, but his lips still curled up into a kind smile. 

You were resting quietly in the warm room, just hearing each other's calm breathing was enough relaxing. 

"It must be hard for you to do this job all alone, Eddie." you said quietly, no to destroy this calm moment that you have been in for awhile. "You're such a good boy!" you chuckled. 

• he slowly opens his eyes, looks straight up at you

• look, idk if they can blush, but now he does it okay? 

• like his face is completely red

• he always gets so flushed when you complimenting him

• he's so flattered 

• and so damn cute ♡

• he's speechless, he can't think of what he could say

• so he just simply says

• "Oh... Erm... Thanks, (Y/N)!" 

• he will definitely give a kiss to your hands in return

• Your compliments mean too much for him ♡

(a.n: btw I love Edddie, he is such a sweetheart 🥺 ♡

He is definitely my favourite character beside Barnaby! ★) 

Barnaby. B. Beagle

 He knew that work is tiring for you and you had a long day. He wanted to do something pleasant for you. He couldn't cook, it was too difficult for him and he didn't wanna blow up the kitchen with his tryings. So instead of cooking, he cleaned out. It was not as perfect like you would did it, but it was acceptable. He was already finished when you were standing in front of the red and blue colored door. It was easy to recognize it. It had similar colors as Barnaby and it was the biggest door in the neighbourhood. 

He opened the door with a happiest smile on his face. He was clearly missing you. He let you in and you immediately took a seat on the comfy couch. 

Just a few minutes after you had some chance to look around. The house wasn't perfectly clean, like you could still something in the conner, but it was enough to make you feel happy and greatful about Barnaby. 

"What a good boy!"

• omg i can imagine how his tail starts wagging

• I mean he's like a dog, but different, but still a dog, so what did you expect?

• he definitely loves it when you call him a good boy

• he just listens your soft and lovely voice while you caressing and rubbing his fluffy head

• he especially likes rubs behind his big ears

• will rest his head on your lap and just melt in and let you to pet and praise him

• probably will bite you carefully in an affection way

• or slobber on you occasionally

• he wants you to say it more times, so he'll try to make you proud as often as he can

• he absolutely loves it ♡

"Thank you, Barnaby!" 

Frank Frankly

You wanted to see your partner's reaction too much to lose this idea. You leaned forward in the chair to get a better look at Frank, then you called him. 

"You are such a good boy, Frank!" 

• he looks up at you strangely and confused

• you can't help, but giggle a little bit cause the frustration

• "Well... Thank you, (Y/N)..." 

• then he goes back to his job

• probably he has to do something with those colorful bugs what are around him

• seems like he found a better company than you :") 

• you stood up and got over to him, tried not to hurt his garden and the bugs

• "But seriously, hon, I do think that you're doing an amazing job!" you said it softly as you hugged him from behind.

"Thank you, Darling." he smiles at you adorably

• he still adores you dw ♡

• but he definitely likes dear, hon, love or even darling more :D

• (btw I think it would make him uncomfortable- not sure, but I feel like- lol)

Howdy Pillar

You rested your arm on the counter as Howdy checked your items. You watched his movements. Slowly tracing your eyes from his face down to his hands, paying attention to details as well.

"Y'know, you do so much work in this place, Howdy. Like a good boy." You added jokingly the last sentence, didn't think of it too much, though.

He stopped moving for and looked up on you. You look directly in his eyes, getting red of embarassment.

"I mean-" You looked away sheepishly. "Not like that, just... You're doing such a good job here, y'know? It must be hard to keep this place alright by yourself." you chuckled awkardly, trying to change the awkard mood that you accidently did.

Howdy was still looking at you, but he didn't seem nervous or weird out about this. He just stared at you and then suddenly his lips curled into a kind, but a teasing smile.

"Yeah, it is." he answered.

He already put in a bag the last item you have bought of him, then he gently gave the bag to you with his third hand.

"You wanna drink a quick Dark Roast with me? Or if you prefer it more, you can have orange juice, or tea." he leaned closer to you on the counter.

"Sure." you said.

He walked away from the counter as one of his hands started to lead you beside him.

He glanced at you with a smile and said

"You still have to pay, though. Don't think that I'll forgot."

• omg-

• i don't think he'll mind it y'know

• but he prefers call you a good pet/boy/girl

• he may get teasy about it

• beside that, he will treat it as a compliment (cause he really deserves it)

• call him often, he won't mind

• just please don't call him like that in public :>

• he's cool with it :D

#wh #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home arg #welcome home fanart #wally darling #wally darling x reader #barnaby b beagle #barnaby b beagle x reader #eddie dear #eddie dear x reader #frank frankly #frank frankly x reader #howdy pillar #howdy pillar x reader #wh x reader #welcome home x reader

[bordysbae]

“you haven’t called me an asshole yet today, everything okay?” with luke!!

“nuisance”

luke hughes x f!reader

🦋 BORDYSBAE’S 500 CELLY!

— ୨୧ —

rumor had it, a new boy from canada just moved to the one and only plymouth michigan, and would be attending your highschool. little did you know, he’d soon become the biggest nuisance to roam the halls. no one ever shut up about ‘luke hughes the future nhl player.’ girls even had crushes on him since the day he arrived, but not you. you just found him annoying. did you find him cute? yes. but mostly annoying.

“howdy partner!” luke beams as he slides into the seat next to you. a couple weeks ago at the start of school, you were unfortunate enough to be assigned as luke’s chemistry partner. and assigned to sit behind him in math, and sit in front of him in english too.

he grew popular so quickly, and that only made you hate him more. it’s only the third week of school and teachers are already allowing him to slack on homework just because of ‘hockey practice.’ luke knows you’re not very fond of him, but he just doesn’t know why. so that’s why he’s always bugging you, or so you think at least.

“hi, luke,” you mutter with your head resting on your arms. it’s too early for luke’s antics.

“someone’s grumpy. per usual,” luke teases, nudging your arm gently. you groan as the teacher begins speaking and sit up so she doesn’t yell at you. her words about chemistry sound like utter nonsense to you, so you don’t even bother listening. this is unusual behavior for you, and even luke knows that.

“hey are you okay?” luke whispers, but you’re so tired that you hardly even hear him. instinctually, you let out a half assed ‘mhm’ as a reply. this makes luke’s brows furrow, but he shrugs it off and continues tapping his pencil annoyingly. usually when he does this, you get mad at him and force his pencil to stay still, but this morning you’re way too tired for anything. maybe staying up late studying for a test wasn’t as smart of an idea as it seemed.

once class is over, you can barely even stay awake. you sluggishly make your way out of the class, but not before the nuisance stops you. he tugs on your backpack and jolts you back, making your eyes widen. “what the hell luke!” you practically shriek.

“you haven’t called me an asshole yet today, everything okay? you’re so sluggish too, i’m honestly a little worried,” he asks you.

you look up at the boy, and now he gets a full glance at just how tired you appear. as much as you’d never admit it, luke asking if you’re alright honestly made your day a little bit better. “yeah i just stayed up way too late and slept past my alarm, so i haven’t had any coffee. thanks for asking though, asshole,” you chuckle, and he lets out a little smile. he pushes you playfully out of his way as he heads to his second period class, making you roll your eyes with a smile.

third period rolls around, and this is the class where luke sits in front you. as you walk in, you spot luke holding two coffees in his hand with a cheesy grin on his face. your mouth drops as luke hands you your usual starbucks order. when you sit down, luke turns around to face you, “is it the right thing?” he asks honestly worried he got your order wrong, but he didn’t.

“luke thank you! oh my god! when and how did you get this!?

“may or may not have skipped second period and went to get starbucks. i could tell how tired you were, and i was craving a bacon gouda too so…” he bashfully grins.

“how did you even know my order?” you ask, immediately sipping the drink before you.

“you bring the same thing everyday, i just kind of learned it,” he shrugs.

“luke let me pay you back, i have to,” you insist, grabbing your wallet as you speak.“absolutely not y/n, it’s my treat. plus, you didn’t read the side of the cup,” he says before turning around in his seat as class begins. you rotate the cup, and notice semi-messy handwriting on the side in black sharpie. it reads: ‘can i take you out on a date?’

your mouth drops, and immediately you tap lukes shoulder. he turns around, and you nod you head and whisper, “of course you can, asshole.” he lets out a loud laugh at your joke, and so do you. suddenly everyone is looking at you both, but you guys don’t mind. you’re both too happy to care.

#bordysbae’s 500 celly #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #hockey blurb #hockey imagine

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hey remember that caramel-carmel Fake Script i was writing? yeah it's technically not done but i'm tired of tinkering with it so here it is! we'll just say it's a uhhhh uncovered partial script or somethin

this is not in any way official! it's a 100% unaffiliated fanwork & i am Just Fucking Around for Funsies

~

BARNABY: oh, I love carmul!

FRANK: [long, disgusted pause] …what? 

BARNABY: Carmul! You know, those tasty little treats you’re holdin’!

FRANK: You mean caramel?

BARNABY: That’s what I said.

FRANK: [scoffs] No, you didn’t. You said carmul.

BARNABY: We’re sayin’ the same thing here.

FRANK: We absolutely are not!

JULIE: [giggles] You really aren’t.

BARNABY: Carmul, caramel, tomato, tomahto! What does it matter!

FRANK: [flustered, stammering] It - it matters! Julie, you agree with me, don’t you?

JULIE: Well… I don’t know, Frank! I think both are fun!

FRANK: You’re both wrong, then! Wally, you agree with me, don’t you?

WALLY: [hesitant] …I say carmul.

FRANK: No! Not you too! How could you poison him like this, Barnaby?

BARNABY: Don’t look at me! I’m innocent, honest!

FRANK: Ha! So you admit that carmul is the wrong pronunciation!

BARNABY: [groans] ah, geez… throw a dog a bone!

FRANK: I’d be delighted to if you’d just-

[distant yelp as Eddie trips off-screen] 

FRANK: Eddie! Thank goodness, finally someone who can put an end to this debate!

EDDIE: [nervous laugh] Oh no, what did I stumble into this time? 

BARNABY: Hold on a tic, Frank. Hey Ed, take this. What do you call that tasty treat?

EDDIE: [with a tinge of fear] A… caramel?

FRANK: [triumphant] a-HA!

SALLY: [approaching] Did someone mention carmul?

FRANK: AGH!

BARNABY: [delighted] Perfect timing, Sally!

SALLY: What, for a delicious morsel? Hand it over, thank you!

FRANK: You’re all wrong, and I’ll prove it! We’re going to go around the neighborhood and - wait. [under his breath] One two three four - [returns to normal volume] we’re taking this to Poppy’s!

BARNABY: Then Home, then Howdy, yeah yeah - might as well ask the daisies, too.

JULIE: Oooh, and the butterflies! 

SALLY: While we’re at it, we should phone everyone in the book, just to get the widest audience input.

FRANK: [unamused] You all think you’re so funny. 

EDDIE: Well, you gotta admit it’s… it’s… 

[brief, tense pause. Eddie clears his throat]

EDDIE: It’s perfectly sensible!

[Frank makes an affronted noise]

FRANK: Poppy will see sense.

-

POPPY: I’d be delighted to have a cah-mehl, but I’m afraid it-

FRANK: [aghast, truly astonished] You’re joking. You have to be joking. CAH-MEHL? Does no one in this town have sense?! Besides Eddie, of course. And Julie - on a technicality.

EDDIE: [oddly pleased] Why thank you. 

POPPY: My goodness, did- did I say it wrong?

BARNABY: [gleeful] Not in the least, Pops!

SALLY: As far as I’m concerned, you added an extra layer of… pizazz to the word. In fact, I may adjust my own pronunciation accordingly!  

POPPY: [flustered] Oh, well, I didn’t - don’t change on my account -

SALLY: Take the compliment, Poppy. 

POPPY: [meekly] Thank you.

[Sally wanders from the group, practicing the slightly adjusted pronunciation]

WALLY: I’m not sure I understand. What’s wrong with carmul or… care… mul… carmel…

POPPY: Don’t strain yourself dear, you’ll get a migraine.

FRANK: What’s wrong is that it’s ENTIRELY incorrect! It! Is! Pronounced! Caramel!

JULIE: Aww, Frank, I’m sure Home and Howdy will agree with us! Team Caramel, WOOO!

BARNABY: [barely restrained disbelief] Boy, won’t they! 

POPPY: I’m not sure what the fuss is about… there isn’t much of a difference, is there?

[Frank makes a high pitched, frustrated noise and stomps off. He can be heard calling Home’s name in the background]

JULIE: Oop, there he goes!

POPPY:  Oh - oh dear. I didn’t mean to rile him up.

BARNABY: Don’t twist your beak about it - Frank’s just bein’ Frank. Now if you’ll excuse us, I wanna see how it goes with Home.

WALLY: [quietly, thoughtful] But Home doesn’t talk like us…

POPPY: If you’re sure… Do let me know how it goes. 

SALLY: [swaying back to the group] I’ll phone you post-haste! Or even better, I can come by for one of your delicious muffins and regale you with the whole escapade, in detail.

POPPY: [audibly pleased] That sounds - well that sounds like a wonderful idea! I have some fresh from this morning-

BARNABY: Sounds great! See you around, Poppy.

-

FRANK: Home, I have an important question to ask you. Is the correct pronunciation for this candy ‘carmul’, or ‘caramel’? One creak for caramel, two for the incorrect carmul.

BARNABY: Talk about a bias…

[Home stays silent. Sally yawns.]

FRANK: One creak for caramel, two-

[Home slowly shuts their curtains]

FRANK: Hmph! The nerve… well, I suppose a house that can’t speak shouldn’t have a say, anyway.

WALLY: Home can speak. He just does it differently.

BARNABY: And I’m pretty sure they just agreed with me, Walls, an’ Sally.

JULIE: They did not!

BARNABY: Looked like it to me!

SALLY: I have to agree with Julie. Home just declared itself a neutral party, and so the vote can’t be counted either way. On to Howardson!

JULIE: Yes! Howdy! Our last hope!

FRANK: He may have terrible taste in company, but he’s a sensible businessman. Poppy and Home have let me-

JULIE: Us!

FRANK: -us down, but surely Howdy will back us up. 

BARNABY: [faux-serious tone, knows something they don’t] Absolutely. Without a doubt.

-

[store bell chimes]

HOWDY: Howdy-do - [brief pause, a tinge of surprise] everyone! My my, what brings the entire neighborhood to my bountiful bodega? Finally decided to clean me out for good?

BARNABY: [snorts] With how fast you restock? I think I’d break my funnybone!

FRANK: We have important business.

HOWDY: [mildly curious] Do we? That’s news to me! But I’m letting you know now that I don’t deal in bugs, Frankly. It’d be hypocritical. 

FRANK: Believe me, I wish I were here to talk insects. Unfortunately, I need to settle a score. Mr. Dear, if you would?

EDDIE: If I would what?

SALLY: [stage-whisper] Barnabello gave you the, ah, parcel earlier?

EDDIE: The…? Oh! Oh, right - I have it right here, just… give me a second… which pocket…? There we go.

[sound of a small, hard candy placed on the countertop] 

HOWDY: A carmul all for me? You shouldn’t have! No, really, you shouldn’t have. I’m on the clock.

BARNABY: [loud bark of laughter] I knew I could count on you, pal! So what’s the tally, Frankie?

[Frank mutters something inaudible]

BARNABY: What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of me bein’ right!

FRANK: [explosive] You’re all wrong! The correct pronunciation is caramel, CARAMEL! You’re all - you’re all just - heathens! Heathens, I say! I’m taking my company elsewhere! 

EDDIE: Mr. Frankly…

JULIE: [overlapping, following] Aw, c’mon Frank! 

[the door jingles. Julie and Frank’s hushed arguing in the doorway underlies the dialogue]

HOWDY: It sounds like I missed quite the context! Mind filling me in?

BARNABY: That was pretty much it; a real potato potahto argument.

HOWDY: If you say so, Barn. Speaking of potahtos-

[the background argument abruptly cuts off, the door jingles again as it's closed]

FRANK: [rapidly rejoining the group] Hold it! You don’t really say potahto, do you?

BARNABY: [under breath] Here we go again…

SALLY: [deeply amused] Where on Earth did you pick up such a butchered pronunciation? I must have missed the sign on my tour down from the heavens.

EDDIE: [baffled, underlying the dialogue] I’ve never heard anyone say it that way.

JULIE: Oh! Is it a joke? Like, Barnaby says potato-potahto, and then you jokingly say potahto to make us laugh? 

HOWDY: It’s not a joke. That’s how it’s said.

FRANK: [genuinely disturbed] No - no one says that. It’s potato.

HOWDY: Well I say potahto, thank you very much! And if you ever want one from my store again, you’d do well to accept that.

[Various grumbles of reluctant acceptance]

HOWDY: Good. Now, can I get any of you a refreshing drink after such a squall? You must be parched! 

WALLY: I wouldn’t mind a glass of mulk.

[Horrified silence. A pin drop would be deafening]

[Sudden uproarious and overlapping argument]

#consider this a low budget dollar store fanfic #didnt want to write an actual fic so Just The Dialogue Works Fine #anyway ive never tried to write a script-adjacent Anything so have mercy on me #i dont know what im doing ever! im having fun anyways! #and for the record! im team carmul #well all pronunciations are valid in my book but i say carmul #always have always will dont know why dont know how #my parents tried to make me say it 'caramel' growing up and uhhh No <3 #its fuckin carmul to me. To Me. #i dont say potahto tho. who the fuck does that who isnt a 50s mob boss in jersey #if a 50s mob boss in jersey is reading this: you'll never catch me alive #absolutely unprompted #welcome home #hmmm i should have a writing tag at this point #yk what ill just reuse - wait no i cant reuse the one from my dc sideblog #oh fuck it we'll stay on theme #snippets from the bog #yeah this little writing thing has been in my docs for like. #checking my nonexistent watch here. mmmmmmdont know. a while #and im slightly terrified to post! #its one thing posting art - posting any sort of writing is like breaking your ribs open with a crab cracker #and saying Hi! Have A Taste! I Hope My Viscera Isn't Completely Disgusting! #my god i hope they're at least acceptably in character. im trying im trying #i hope this gives someone a laugh! #or at least a hearty Chortle #or... blowing air through your nose in amusement. yes

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | aizawa, part two.

Aizawa's route of soulmate trope.

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

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

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

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

The semester trudged on.

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

YOU

i had a dream about you

SHOUTA

Should you be texting during class?

YOU

Yamada-sensei has abandoned his lesson

YOU

in favour of recording noises for put your hands up radio

SHOUTA

Noises

YOU

bleep bloop

YOU

hey ya howdy doodle doo

YOU

etc.

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

For example, Present Mic.

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

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

You’d also felt like screaming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

YOU

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

YOU

i think i’m gonna throw up

SHOUTA

I’ll intervene if the lights pop out again

YOU

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

SHOUTA

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

YOU

(◕‿◕✿)

YOU

thanks i’m cured

YOU

but yes back to dream about you

SHOUTA

It isn’t explicit, is it?

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

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

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

SHOUTA

Don’t put that sort of thing in writing

YOU

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

SHOUTA

Pedant.

YOU

you love it

SHOUTA Debateable

YOU

(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

YOU

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

YOU

and the ground is covered in dead wet leaves

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

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

YOU

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

YOU

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

SHOUTA

Nice to hear you plan on graduating

YOU

sensei (derogatory)

YOU

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

YOU

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

YOU

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

SHOUTA

I’ll see what I can do

YOU

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

YOU

the sharing of the pear. not the fight. obviously

YOU

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

YOU

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

YOU

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ

YOU

…shouta??

YOU

you’re not in class rn, right??

SHOUTA

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

SHOUTA You’re going to rip me apart

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

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

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

But he chose to spread the warmth.)

YOU

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

SHOUTA

You’re on thin fucking ice

YOU

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

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

***

The academic situation the week before graduation was a joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You waved him off.

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

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

“Where are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

The next ten months of your life were a blur.

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

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

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

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

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

The ache made its home in your chest again.

***

Then came a mission.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They scattered. You stayed.

The ache lessened now that you were near him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aizawa shook his head. “I do.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a wishbone,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not…the greatest sign.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think I’m handsome?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You would like pink lilies at your funeral.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

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

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

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

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

“Let me look at you.”

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

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

Nodding, Aizawa leant in to kiss you.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eraserhead speaking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Child support for—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

You were also to give her eulogy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

You woke up in his bed.

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

You woke up in his bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You woke up in his bed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hot date?”

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

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

You woke up in his bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You woke up in his bed.

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

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

You woke up in his bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

“Sleeping on the job?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want me to go adjust the thermostat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallowed visibly. “Get on the bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thunder shook the windows, the bedframe rattling with it.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I fucking—”

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

“You can’t be that—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead.” He released them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are.”

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

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

Your own fingers strained to lie flat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you are the worst.”

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

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

Lightheaded.

And very, very warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sunshine--void]

🏠 Confessing to them 🏠

Wally Darling

He shows no reaction on the outside

BUT THE INSIDE?? BOY IS S H O O K E T H

He just kinda stares at you for a hot minute

Because of this you obviously thought he was rejecting you

So you started backtracking, which only confused the poor lil yellow man :((

Eventually you figured it out tho

"So you don't love me?"

Julie Joyful

It was an accidental confession

She just looked so pretty you had to compliment her!

And by compliment I of course mean you blurting out how much you love her

Girly was immediately flustered

Sally Starlet

After a moment she happily accepted and returned your love

"Oh- ... Thank you neighbor!"

She already confessed multiple times albeit during plays so you thought she was just acting

L i t t l e d i d y o u k n o w

When you confess she is immediately screaming happily

"Finally!"

She immediately kisses all over your face

Howdy Pillar

You did it while he was working

You came up behind him and just kinda blurted it out

Absolutely thought he heard you wrong so you had to repeat yourself multiple times which only made you more embarrassed each time

Eventually you get there tho eventually

Barnaby B. Beagle

You can expect a lot more free stuff from now on

Yay! No more awkward jokes!

"... I'm sorry, could you say that again?"

You were so tired of dropping hints he clearly wasn't getting

So you finally confessed

He thought you were joking </3

You had to really explain it to him

He did get it after that tho

Hooray! You now get a whole lot of bear hugs and fur in your mouth!

Poppy Partridge

You did it while the two of you were baking

She's extremely shy and embarrassed about it

But she's definitely not upset

Gives you a hug you got feathers in your mouth

Your gonna have a lot more baked goods from now on

Eddie Dear

W a t

He blue screens immediately

You like him?

When he realizes that you aren't joking or lying he gets even more flustered

Have mercy on his poor southern soul :-(

He's fidgeting with his hands and stumbling over his sentences

But he's very happy you told him

Frank Frankly

He likes you too neighbor <33

They were gonna confess! You ruined it neighbor... >:-(

Holds a slight grudge about it for like... 3 seconds

"You beat me to it..."

So dw your good

Then they see your face

Your poor, awkward, extremely nervous face

And they immediately forgive and forget

You guys go on a nice picnic then go bug catching

#welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling #wally darling x reader #Julie Joyful #julie joyful x reader #Sally Starlet #Sally Starlet x reader #howdy pillar #howdy pillar x reader #Barnaby B beagle #Barnaby B beagle x reader #Poppy Partridge #poppy partridge x reader #Eddie Dear #Eddie Dear x reader #Frank Frankly #Frank Frankly x reader

[2knightt]

Howdy knight in shimmering armor!! :DDD it is moi~ & I come humbly presenting my req ✨🥹

So. 👏🏼 We've heard of motherly!reader, right? And we got motherly!reader. We've heard of sister!reader, and we got sister!reader.

Now get ready forrrrr *🥁🥁🥁* daughter!reader! 🩷💫

can I get some hcs for our Sodapop with a daughter/daughter!reader? I feel like he'd be such a sweet and loving parent aaaa 😭😭 whether biological or adopted it's entirely up to you, darlin'! I just live for the sweet fluff; my brain is stuck on Darry and Pony and the rest of the Greasers as uncles akshdj it's driving me up a walllllll.

uncle/godfather (!!! 😱😭🩷) Steve—maybe her taking an interest in cars or working at the DX when she gets older?? or not and somethin' else has her best interests at heart!! but everybody loves and dotes on her endlessly still bc she's their princess UGH the potential is insanity.

Work your magic, firefly!! If it's what'chur into, I'd love to see whatcha got for me! 😚 If not, then don't worry a thing at all, m'kay? <33 Entirely up to you!

↳tell the angels no!₊˚✧

➬ sodapop curtis x daughter!reader

a/n; THERES MY FAVOURITE PERSON EVERRR!!! HIIIIII!!!! ALSO I MADE READER LIKE IN THE RANGE OF A PRETEEN..BUT I MADE IT PRETTY VAGUE ON THE AGE..SAUR.

you’re sodapop’s biological child, and he couldn’t be happier omfg.

he’s such a good dad :(.

he legit can’t say no to you so you can get away with literally anything.

you punch a kid because they were annoying you?

“aw, it’s okay. i bet she didn’t mean it.”

“your daughter punched the child 3 times in a row.”

“just like i taught her!”

you get caught stealing?

“just ask for money! or take some from uncle steve.”

if you ever tell him you have a crush on a kid, he’s telling everyone. shouting it in the streets fr.

“who is he? is he cute? is he nice? rich?”

“papa!!”

and if the gang finds out?? good luck.

“what? you’re way too young to even to be thinking about boys!”

“yeah, what uncle two-bit said!”

“guys she’s a child. let her explore.”

“shut up ponyboy, this is y/n we’re talking about.”

do NOT ask sodapop for help with any of your work.

as soon as your done with adding, it’s ponyboys problem.

each person in the gang probably has their own job or role in your life.

johnny is the uncle you go to for peace and quiet.

“johnny-uhh…let’s go to the lot!! i’m tired of this house.”

“alright, kiddo. go tell your dad where you’re going.”

johnny’s jealous that you have a better childhood than he ever had, but he’s happy that it’s you getting the best childhood you can possibly get.

ponyboy’s the one you go to for academic help, or just..help in general.

“uncle pony, what’s 12 x 2?”

“what’s 12 + 12?”

“24?”

“there’s your answer.”

two-bits the uncle you go to when you’ve had a bad day. he does ANYTHING to make you laugh.

he’ll tell you any story about anyone to make you smile with tears still in your eyes.

“w-well what about dad?”

“OH! your dad used to work at this gas station, the DX, right? and one day a guy came in to rob the place, grabbed the drinks, chocolate bars, everything and just RAN! so your father ran after him but he tripped and took the guy down with him! i swear he was the same shade as a tomato when the story came out!”

“really?”

you asked, in between laughs.

steves the uncle you go to for…literally everything.

you’re probably his favourite person so…he’s ‘round you a lot.

“uncle steve, i’m trying to go to school!”

“schools for losers.”

“uncle?!”

“but don’t drop out. drop out and i kill ya.”

darry is the one you go to for actual advice and a shoulder to lean on.

you probably call him grandpa for the laughs.

“an-and i just don’t know what to do, pa! it’s so..UGH!”

“just breath, y/n. you’re a strong young girl. you can make it, like you always do.”

dallas is the uncle you go to for actual fun.

he let’s you get away with anything and everything.

he might even be worse than your dad.

“can i have a cigarette?”

“just don’t tell anyone, kay? i ain’t tryna get the tar beatin’ outta me.”

i like to think that steve’s car work was acknowledged and he moved into a better paying job.

so if you show the slightest bit of interest into cars, he’s bringing you into work on the weekends.

“pop the hood, y/n.”

“sir yes sir!”

they’d be so loving but so annoying with you omfg.

they will barge into your room without asking.

“HEY Y/N!”

“TWO-BIT, WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”

“that’s no way to talk to your uncle.”

“so?? get out! i’m trying to play something.”

they all come into your room and drag you out to the dingo.

OMFG IMAGINE THEM PICKING YOU UP FOR SCHOOL IT’D BE SO EMBARRASSING.

sodapops driving, it’s his car, two-bit and steve are fighting across the seats, johnny and ponyboy and talking over the shouting, dallas is blasting music while darry tells everyone to behave.

all that while you stand infront of school, infront of everyone, as they shout your name out loud.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N GET IN!”

“HURRY UP PLEASE”

“i don’t know who these guys are…must be another y/n.”

“Y/N CURTIS. GET IN HERE NOW!”

“ah, shit.”

“WHAT WAS THAT, YOUNG LADY?”

“nothinguhh!!”

10/10 experience overall, would sell my first born to experience this.

may 27th, 2023. 4:41PM.

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #what do i tag for platonic fics omfg #platonic the outsiders #sodapop curtis #sodapop x reader #johnny cade x reader #dallas winston x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #steve randle x reader #darry curtis x reader #HELP??

[buckysmith]

You know what time it is sis 😏

Can I ask for Captain Price struggling with his feelings. Seeing as he fell for the rookie and he's the Captain. Eventually, he finds a way to reveal them without sounding like a creep and expressing healthy boundaries.

Price x Rookie Reader

Howdy dearest, my apologies that it took so long to fulfill your request! I hope I did it like you wished for, if not let me know!

First of all AGE GAP (kinda big one tbh), ANGST a bit at least

- it was Kate that brought you into 141

- she saw talent in you, talent that needed the right person to help you reach it, to what see already saw and that was hiding in you

- price already had a “puppy” on in his team so he wasn’t quite sure about you at first

- but you proved your worth multiple times and he started to care for you

- at first he thought he cared for you like he cared for his boys

- but you were different, his feelings were different, way different

- but first of all he’s way to stubborn to admit that he likes you in that way, at least at first

- laswell however knows her best friend better than anyone else so she would ask John about you

- he wouldn’t admit he likes you but she knows better than to actually believe him

- everytime he sees you or hears your voice he gets that feeling, this deep desire to have you for himself

- it drives him crazy cause he knows you’re way too young for him, that he’s your captain and shouldn’t have these feelings

- he doesn’t treat you that different than his boys tho

- he knows you’re not a sweet little baby that needs protection, no matter if you’re in the field as a temporary medic or just a normal soldier

- but that doesn’t stop him from having an eye always on you

- you thought he would do that cause he thinks you’re not capable of handling your own problems, so you worked harder to prove him your worth

- he knows you’re watching him too, but he thinks it’s because he’s your captain or that you think he’s a creep cause he always looks after you

- he would NEVER think that you watch him cause you find him handsome and would like to have a taste of his lips..

- he adores how you handle the boys, even tho your younger than them and most likely shorter

- he especially likes that you don’t let ghost talk over you and that you give him a taste of his own medicine whenever he gives a remark that you’re just a “stray puppy that can’t handle stuff” or that you’re “weak”

- he notice that you treat him differently than the boys, but again he thinks it’s because of his status as your captain

- he’s kind of surprised when you give him gifts for Christmas/birthday and it’s something he told you once, like his favorite cigar or what whiskey he likes the most

- that only increase his feelings for you

- that poor old man doesn’t know how to handle such feelings

- he ofc notice that other people hit on you, but everytime you politely tell them that you’re not interested

- he asks himself why you do that and if there’s already someone in your life, but even after checking he would find nothing, not even the slightest bit of a lover or a quick one night stand. Just nothing

- that would go on for a few years till he has the guts to tell you his feeling

- watch him struggle to prepare his little letter so that he doesn’t say something stupid

- like for real, he wrote a whole fucking book so that he wouldn’t say something that creeps you out

- he waits for the right moment to tell you his feelings for you

- and there would be one, one that would almost force him to tell you his feelings for you

- You had took a bullet that was meant for him, a bullet that had killed him if you didn’t took it

- you almost bleed out that day

- he was trying to stop the bleeding, telling you to not close your eyes, to not fall asleep no matter how tired you are and that he needs you.

- he doesn’t leave your side by a second, not even when you’re in surgery, he’s there the whole time

- he’s there when you open your eyes, sitting next to you on a chair, his hat over his face while he’s snoring

- after that he would visit you every single day

- you can’t remember much while you almost died in his arms, but you remember him saying that he needs you

- you know that the feelings you have for your captain are wrong, that you shouldn’t have them but you want to tell him that you have them… before you die.

- he brought you fresh clothes, a big as bouquet and a teddy bear so that you would have a friend while he’s not there

- you tell him that you have to tell him something, something that may force you to leave 141

- you’re okay if he doesn’t like you back, you’re okay if he wants you to leave 141 cause of your feelings but you know you have to tell him

- watch him sitting there, mouth a bit open, looking like you just told him that your in fact an alien

- the whole fucking letter he prepared to tell his feelings for you is now completely useless, his mind is almost blurry

- the moment you say that you would leave 141 if he’s not comfortable with you loving him smacks him back to reality and he cuts you off while speaking

- he needs a few seconds to find the right words, so that he wouldn’t make himself a jerk

- he tells you that he has feelings for you too, that he just thought it wasn’t the right thing to tell you about them, not only because he’s your captain but also cause of the age gap

- but he also tells you that you both need to discuss that later, when you’re okay and out of the hospital

- a few weeks later he sits down with you, telling you that when you want to date him that there’s boundaries non of you can’t cross

- one of them are that there’s no favoirism

- in the battlefield he needs soldiers, soldiers that listen to him so whenever he gives you and order you have to obey him, even tho it could mean you have to leave him behind and that he would die

- the other is that nobody is allowed to know, at least not at first

- he knows how it looks like, he’s an old bastard and your blood young- people would call you names and he doesn’t want that

- no pda while working, besides a maybe loving “take care” and a slight touch somewhere normal like arm or back area

- when you both are alone he’s yours and you can do whatever you want to do

- you want to kiss him? Do that. You want to touch him/feel him? He’s down to do whatever you want to do

- but- he wouldn’t quit smoking for you… sorry mates

#captain price mw2 #captain price x reader #captain price headcanon #john price x reader #captain john price #john price x you #john price headcanons #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare headcanons

[blu3-j]

Welcome...Home..?

Overworked! GN! Reader x Welcome Home Crew

Chapter 3

Tw: Break down (Reader experiences a small break down), overall a bit of crying

Hoo, boy! This one's a long one! Strap in everybody!

So, as we left off, reader gets introduced to their...interesting situation, but doesn't have much time to process it before having to head in to work. What happens when the reader actually has a moment to process it? But the reader's not the only one in the story! The entire crew is here! So, how are they dealing with this stressful new situation?

Chapter 1 l Chapter 2 l Chapter 3 l Chapter 4

The day had gone by busy as usual. The restaurant was so busy that you were barely able to squeeze in a break. Just a small part of your shift, 2 buses had stopped by within the first few hours of you clocking in. Why, in all the world's name, did people decide to take a bus to a restaurant this early in the morning??? While one of your managers was kind enough, the other never bothered to care about anything more than their basic job, deciding to stay in the back office and never leaving unless a customer requested to see them. Any coworkers that had any sort of complaint or wanted to take a break were directed to the other manager. Thank god the nice manager was on today. It was torture when it was just the lousy one.

As for your classes, you only had one today. When you first scheduled your classes, you made note to keep them simple as they could easily pile up. What you didn't take into account was how busy work would be, and the class itself was labor intensive and required you to talk to so many people. You scheduled this class to be on its own for a reason, but it still dragged you down six feet under for energy.

The day felt as though it was never going to end. Little did you know, a little surprise waited for you when you finally found time to eat your packed lunch. A little note sat on the top of the simple meal, folded neatly with a caterpillar doodle drawn on the top fold.

"Y/N, it's wonderful to get to meet you! I knew you were a hard worker when I saw how peaceful you were sleeping this morning. According to your calendar, you're even busier than me! I noticed how dirty the house was, so I cleaned up a little. I hope you don't mind! You seemed so exhausted, and it's the least I can do to help make your already busy life easier. I hope you have a great day, shrimp! Make your day worth it to you! We're so proud of you, already! Signed, Howdy P."

It was small, but his written words made your day a little bit brighter. You almost found yourself smiling. The paper crinkled as you folded it up gently and put it in your pocket.

By the end of the day, you were once again exhausted---more than that, actually. It wasn't uncommon for you to be barely walking from exhaustion at the end of the day, and as much as you so dearly wanted to go home, the moment you sat down in the driver seat of your car you hesitated to turn the ignition key. The puppets were still there. Waiting for you. While you didn't think they would hurt you, your stomach twisted and churned at the idea of having to face that entire problem that you've been running from all day.

So you didn't.

Rather, you drove to the nearby library. By now the sun was already setting, and a little voice in the back of your mind urged you to go home. "Maybe you'll have some free time to do what you want," it whispered. "Maybe you'll have time to play some video games or go on a walk down that old path you used to love so much." But you didn't listen.

The bell above the door rang as you walked in. Unlike most libraries, it had a small cafe cove in the corner for those like you: completely exhausted and in college. It wasn't too far from the college you attended---just a block or two away---it was maybe a 5--10 minute walk at most from the college's main entrance to there. But you were tired enough as is, and walking was something you could barely do at the moment, so your car rested in its small parking lot. As you trudged through the entrance, the cove caught your attention. "Maybe a little bit of caffeine will do me some good."

Due to the lax nature of the building, there weren't many people that crowded the cove, so it didn't take nearly as long to get your coffee/tea as some places in town did. Not that you would know. This cove was the only coffee place you really ever went to for any sort of coffee or tea. Or at least for fresh and ready-to-drink on the go.

The cup warmed your hands as you held it gently to yourself and slowly trudged to a nearby table in the library. "Maybe I could take this chance to finally read that book I've been hearing so many things about." It was decided, then. You dropped your bag on the floor---a bit harder than you meant to---and set your caffeine salvation down to look for the book. When you finally found it, it had been buried in between the various other books; dusty and barely opened. A librarian friend of yours had once recommended it to you months ago, and now you finally set aside the time to read it.

"The Fall of it All" By Robin Feather

You found yourself quickly enthralled by the book. The story was of a servant named Eline serving princess and future queen Cassandra. The young eccentric princess quickly became close to Eline, and very soon began to allude to more secrets within the castle and its royal government. Upon the discovery of each hidden secret, Eline finds themselves further and further trapped in the middle of it all. Eline never once says a thing in the book; rather allowing the other characters and setting to tell the story around them. It brought a surprisingly well twist to the normal story-telling format. By the time you had ripped your attention from the book it was completely dark outside. That little voice in the back of your mind taunted you. "You can't keep running forever."

You sighed, and put a hastily made bookmark in between the pages. Maybe this would be nice to read at home. "And maybe reading it won't bring its characters to real life so they can live in my house." You chuckled at the thought. How ironic the situation you found yourself in was.

Thud.

You threw your empty cup in the trash bin. You had to rummage through your bag, but at the very bottom hid your library card. You wish you had more free time to come here more often like you originally planned, but you didn't have time for much of anything, anymore. The librarian quickly rang it up for you to borrow, and handed the pristine book back to you. With a final heave, you hoisted your bag on your shoulders.

"I can't keep running forever," you mumbled to yourself. It was completely dark out, with the only light being the occasional street lamp and the light from inside the library peeking out its windows. The cover on the book looked appealing, illuminated by the light's warm glow. If only you could just run away and forget it all.

But even Eline had to face their problems.

"I guess I can face mine, too."

The car ride home was quiet, with the radio softly playing whatever was deemed popular enough to bring in listeners. It was peaceful. Too peaceful. Like the calm before the storm. Your heart sank at the thought of facing those puppets again. They act so real...so..alive. Car headlights blinded you again and again as they passed you by, until eventually they were rarely seen on the road at all. Not many ever came up this far. Buildings turned to empty plains and then to forest as the world blurred by. You turned onto an all too familiar dirt road. Every gravel piece that your tires rolled over felt like another nail in the coffin. Another second closer to a dreadful climax.

The house was dark when you finally rolled in your car and parked. Were they asleep? Do they even sleep? Your heavy shoulders relaxed a little upon the thought. Maybe you won't have to face them, afterall. A gentle tired smile graced your face, and with a final sigh, you pulled out your keys and they jingled as you inserted one in the keyhole.

Click!

It was dark and quiet inside. It almost made you want to believe that what had happened this morning hadn't happened at all. Almost. You couldn't see far into the house, but from what you did see, your bookshelf in the hallway had been organized alphabetically, and the dust and webs had been wiped from the tables and nooks. Why is it so quiet? Finally, you closed the door behind you, engulfing you entirely in an inky black.

"SURPRISE!!!" A chorus of voices overwhelmed you, and the lights were turned on. After you recovered from the scare, you noticed how much more...lively the house was. Home-made banners and streamers adorned the ceiling, and colorful balloons and confetti were spread across the floor. One banner in particular read "WELCOME HOME, Y/N!!!"  It was so colorful. The lights were so warm. And in the middle of it all stood the ones responsible for it. The cast of colorful puppets you had gotten to somewhat know this morning.

"I...uh..." You stammered, wide-eyed at the scene. How do you react to this? Most of them stayed silent and stared at you with expectant eyes. All for one, however. Julie.

"Y/N, you're finally back! Oh my gosh, we were waiting sooooo long! But you're back now! Wally, Howdy, and Barnaby said how scary this all must be for you like how we're all kinda scared right now, so I thought we could throw a surprise party for you! Oh, we have so much planned!" She dashed to your side and tugged on your shirt, beckoning for you to come forward. She pointed to each puppet as she rambled. "Sally has a short play, Barnaby has a comedy act, Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and me made cookies and cake, and Eddie and Wally made the decorations and some of the games!" A single utterance was made from Frank as she talked, correcting her grammar.

"Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and I. Not me, Julie." Julie paid Frank no mind, too enveloped in her excitement to notice him talk.

It all felt like too much. Too much all at once. Your body took a mind of its own as you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you had dipped out of sight into the hallway, you instead found yourself locking yourself in your bedroom. Before you had even curled yourself up on the floor in front of the door, you heard a voice.

"Y/N?" Wally. He always seemed to know when you were distressed. How? He softly knocked on the door. You didn't have the energy right now. You didn't have the bravery right now. "Please talk to me, Y/N." The room went silent as he paused. You refused to move. "Y/N," He continued. "I know this is scary. I'm scared, too. Please, let me in so we can talk. Or maybe just a hug?" Your face felt hot again. And your chest ached. You buried your face in your knees, feeling them slowly begin to grow warm and wet. Wally's voice turned gentle as he leaned into the door. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm right here." A quiet moment rolled by, then the doorknob turned. But it stopped halfway. You had locked it. Staring at the doorknob, you finally meekly unlocked it before shying away from the doorway and hid your face.

Light poured into the dark room as Wally opened the door. "Wally, is Y/N okay?" Julie called out. Hushed voices filled the hallway and into the bedroom from the living room. Wally stared at you for a moment longer before turning back to the hallway.

"I'm going to talk to Y/N for a bit, okay? Everything's going to be okay." He smiled as Julie mumbled an "okay" and he quietly closed the door. The room was engulfed in darkness once more. "Y/N," the small yellow puppet walked forward and crouched down in an attempt to see your down-turned face. "Oh, Y/N. Dearest Y/N." His felt hand reached up to brush the hair out of your face. "Can you talk to me?" You remained silent, barely glancing at his face before looking away. That's when you felt him push your legs away from your torso and crawl into your lap. You gasped and looked at him, but by the time you saw his face, it was buried in your chest, his arms lay limp at his sides. What was he doing? His monotone robotic laughter echoed through the room. "I don't know how to hug." His eyes looked up into yours as his smile widened and his would-be eyebrows furrowed. "Could you show me?" The ache in your chest was too painful. Too much.

And you broke. You don't know how long it was when you finally stopped crying and loosened your hold on him. You don't know how long it was when he finally spoke up after your quiet restrained sobs stopped. "It's okay. I'm right here." He brushed the tears from your cheeks. He didn't like that his hands were getting wet and your tears would soak deep into his felt and stuffing inside, but he could make a small exception for you. You needed the comfort, and as somebody that you're going to be forced to live with until they can go back to Home, it's the least he could do. You were just as scared as he was. So, for now, he could be the braver one.

You looked into his eyes. Despite them being fake, they felt so comforting to look at. The dark black pools that sucked away the light that shined on them felt familiar. You had seen those same dark eyes in many of your stuffed plushies growing up. You had seen those same dark eyes in the teddy bear your great grandmother gave you when you were little. You hugged Wally close one last time, being more careful to not accidentally hurt the little puppet. "Do they even get hurt?" You brushed the thought to the side. Things are going to be okay. So you took in one last long breath, and wiped your eyes. A smile fell on your face as you looked back down to him. His eyes feel so alive. He is alive. He's just like you. You gently pulled him off your lap and stood up and reached for the door. The doorknob felt so cold. The hushed voices continued on the other side of the door. Your stomach churned again.

"It's okay." Wally watched you carefully. His small hand grasped yours and he squeezed. His favorite thing to do, it seemed. "I'm right here with you. You don't have to be scared."

So you took that final leap, and opened the door. Eyes were instantly on the two of you the moment light seeped into the room. Julie was on the couch with Eddie, the short puppet with a star/sun shaped head, and the large blue dog you hadn’t met yet attempting to comfort her. Frank was busy reading another book, but occasionally glancing at Julie, his furrowed brows raising and his frown twitching down a smidge every time he did. Poppy and Howdy were talking to one another closely a bit away from everyone else. Everyone looked to you. Things were quiet. The air was heavy.

Then Julie hopped up from her spot on the couch and ran over. "Y/N!!" She hugged your legs and buried her face. "I'm so so sorry!! I thought if we did a party, everything would be okay and everyone would be happy but you weren't and you ran away and we were all so worried for you and I'M SO SORRY!" She wailed into the side of your pants as she gripped you tighter, apologizing over and over and over. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. So you bent down to her level instead and hugged her close. She really was worried. You found yourself glancing at the others. All of them were.

When Julie's rambling seemed to continue (how in all goodness was she not out of breath yet?) you took it as a sign to interrupt her.

"It's okay, Julie. You're right. I'm scared, too. I was so overwhelmed when I came back that I wanted to run away again. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. I don't even know how you all can even exist here!" You chuckled as you pulled away to look her in the face. Your voice was shaky and quiet, but she could hear you. And she did. Her eyes sparkled. Just as always. Your vision began to go blurry again, and your face felt hot. "I've been trying to avoid you guys all day! When I got done with work and school, I went to the library instead. I was too scared. But I had to come home. I had to face everything. I had to face you guys, and I was too scared to go through with it." You wiped your eyes. Everything was crushing in on you again. Julie touched your arm. You're not alone. She's here. Wally's here. Everyone's here. "But I'm going to be brave now."

Her smile grew, and her eyes sparkled more. How is that even possible? Her arms quickly wrapped around you. Everything felt lighter now. The tension was still there, but things weren't caving in on you anymore. "This is going to take a long while to get used to."

Julie spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "Then I'll be brave with you."

The rest of the night blurred by. You finally were able to be formally introduced to the final three you hadn’t met this morning. The blue dog is Barnaby, a jokester who loves to make people laugh and have a good time himself. The tall green one with multiple limbs is Howdy, a bodega shop owner that’s named his place the “Bugdega.” And lastly, the little yellow star being indeed a star puppet named Sally. All she wanted to do was be a metaphorical star.

The baked goods that Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and Julie made were...sweeter than anything you had really ever had, and each was decorated in colorful frosting (even the things that didn't need frosting). Barnaby did his best act with the props he could find in your house, and while he got everyone else to laugh, you didn't. So, he made it his mission to get you to laugh. The rest of the night, he made various jokes and acts, and eventually he heard it. A giggle. A laugh. Finally, you were doubled over in laughter, wiping tears from your eyes as he laughed with you. A few games were played while the others tried to keep Julie from making any of them too complicated, complaining that they didn't understand any of it. Mistakes were made, rules were broken, laughter was shared, and people (specifically Eddie) tripped and stumbled throughout the entirety of it.

Finally, the lights were turned way down low as you all grouped on the couch. Eddie had taken the job of directing the lights with a special hand-made spotlight, and Julie and Wally worked to keep the special effects going. As Sally acted her play, confetti acting as flower petals were thrown, backgrounds were occasionally changed during Sally's monologues, and they occasionally acted as extras in the background. You never got to see how it ended. Sally was in another one of her monologues when you found your eyelids getting heavy and the person next to you being extremely comfy.

A soft blanket wrapped around you as with two arms. Sally's voice faded further and further away as you leaned into the person. And with one last quiet sigh, you let the sweet appeal of sleep consume you.

#welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home wally #wally darling #welcome home barnaby #welcome home frank #howdy #howdy pillar #welcome home julie #welcome home x reader #welcome home sally #welcome home eddie #welcome home fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #welcome home poppy #welcome home x y/n #x reader #x y/n #welcome...home? fanfic

[archivalofsins]

hey so im not trippin right? chronologically, the events in meme take place after the events in double, at least from what i can gather. if thats the case then what the hell happened for mikoto to go from 'giant eyebags and grey hairs at age 20 whatever' to perfectly fine? its probably just that the artstyle wasnt fully finished baking but idk it could be something too.

Oh boy howdy anon you're going to love this. You're right the events on the train do happen before MeMe. However, that's at the start we actually see the events of MeMe play out in the middle of Double. Plus we see the events of Double play out in MeMe as well.

We're just viewing it from a different side like Deco said when Double released.

Also John totally appears in MeMe. So, let's get into this.

So first yeah, the murder repeats in Double. Like we see, the murders occur again during each of the prisoner's trial two songs. I believe the murder is re-illustrated in Double during these scenes.

As you'll be able to see during these scenes the blood splatters inside the train, but the broken doll pieces are outside of it. Mirroring how the murders actually occurred outside in MeMe.

As you can see in MeMe the train that Double takes place within is actually passing through when the murder is committed. We're also shown in MeMe that all of Mikoto's attacks just canonically happen outside the train.

Hence the theme being a dialogue between the front and back. MeMe is the front Double is the back. We also see Mikoto with bags in MeMe but they're less pronounced this is seemingly done purposely to make it more difficult to distinguish between the two of them.

He can be seen with bags under his eyes when they're looking at each other in the mirror, and when he's waking up in the tub. The scene of them looking in the mirror basically mirrored at the beginning of Double.

It's also shown that Mikoto doesn't have bags beneath his eyes when being brought to Milgram. Yet, as soon as it's implied that Mikoto (John) has been fronting the most suddenly guess what's back.

Yep, the bags under his eyes. This is why the line,

"Take a good look at me."

Is repeated through MeMe and why Mikoto's first voice drama emphasizes looking him in the eye as much as it does. Also, why when he does draw a blank and is shown disposing of evidence his eyes are conveniently omitted.

Yet even then before that scene when he does get up lines can be seen drawn under his eyes.

And they can definitely be seen here as well,

And here too!

Mikoto the one Milgram has recognized as a prisoner is the only one not to have bags under his eyes throughout their music videos. Something Milgram does nothing to hide.

In fact it's like the staff has been doing their best to highlight this.

Like if it was just a matter of art style that wouldn't explain how he went from no eyebags to eyebags at the beginning of double and from the beginning of Milgram to now. Or why he went back and forth between them in MeMe.

At that point this is something being done out of intent. Intent that is confirmed in Double when Mikoto (John) goes-

"Aghhh- I'VE GOT YOU, LEAVE IT TO ME!"

After Mikoto's facial expression changes from happy well rested no bags ultimately ending on this expression-

I lovingly call, "Shut the hell up I heard you the first time okay I'll do something about it."

But yeah Mikoto consistently switches between alert, attentive well rested and please, please god let it end i don't remember what a bed looks like let alone feels like please I can't take it anymore. Instead of illustrating this through eye bags in Double it's illustrated through body language more so but the focus on the eyes is still there.

Even with the eye bags. In the first shot Mikoto's eyes are downcast while in the second he's alert and looking at something ahead of him. Similar to how he is in MeMe

So, yeah chances are it could be nothing. Or the one we see with bags under their eyes and seemingly tired throughout both songs is Mikoto (John). Whereas, the one who is energetic and doesn't have as prominent or any bags under his eyes is just Mikoto.

Overall it's an interesting tidbit about Double and MeMe. Simply because it's so easy to miss. I personally think it's there to differentiate between the two but it could be nothing. This retroactively makes this scene funny because there's no bags to be seen so it's more than likely just Mikoto.

And this one because also no bags

Which again by this logic means that is just simply Mikoto. Also calls into question why we never see the face of the Mikoto hunting the other down in Double just their back. Along with all the times they deliberately decide not to show his face. Like he didn't even commit murder in the clothes he's on the train in.

Because the anniversary art is literally all of the prisoners after their crimes. So like it's kind of funny he's been getting away with this so easily.

#milgram #mikoto kayano #gunsli rambles

[dreampurpledreams]

"I knew you were black" , chapter 1

warning: Spanish may be wrong, Cursing

A/N: This took a long time bro. Someone told me I should write this. Leave feedback please, only my second fic.

2k words Below the cut

Italics are in Miles Head

< Prev //Next >

Miles was tired. He wanted nothing more than to lay in his bed, and go to sleep. But of course, he couldn't do that. He has to come back after patrolling the city, and study for a test. You would think the person who saved the entire universe, could at least be exempt from the semester exam. No such luck. Granted, nobody knew he was spiderman, but the principle of things should still apply. Exhausted, Miles opened his window and slipped into his room.

Quite literally. 

Hitting his head on the bedpost, Miles saw stars.

"Ay dios mío". Getting up, Miles tried to straighten himself which was hard to do since it felt like his head was swinging without him.  he just stood for a couple of minutes, hoping to regain his balance. 

Pulling off his mask Miles looked over to see his roommate in bed, sound asleep. Which was exactly what he should have been doing. Instead he was unnecessarily injuring himself.

"At least I don't have to hear him play video games while I work", Miles said, seemingly to himself. But he had only gotten his suit halfway off before he heard the covers shifting around. 

"Look bro, sorry for waking you up but I really have to study, so if you could maybe chill on the video games for one night." 

"I knew you were black. "

"Dude, I'm actually mixed and-". Miles turned around, ready to get this over with so he could just do his work, and go to sleep. Miles however, was not ready for the random girl standing in the middle of his room. 

Silence

"Sorry about that i shouldn't have assumed-"

Miles couldn't hear you. He was low-key panicking. How did he not notice you were in here? He wasn't that tired. You could have been an enemy. Were you an enemy? No, his Spidey-senses would have alerted him if you had been there to hurt him. And how could he possibly hear your voice and think you were Ganke? Ganke isn't a girl, nor does he have that accent. Agh all these questions.

Who were you?

How did you get in here?

Where's Ganke Lee?

Why has he never seen you before?

Why were you on the boys side of the dorm?

Were you a boy?

Can boys be that pretty?

Why are you so pretty?

How does your hair look so good?

Where did you get those boots?

Where did you get that accent from?

Where are you from?

Is there a boyfriend where you're from??

What?

Miles didn't know what to do. And you were still here. Just staring at him. Or back at him. Since he was staring at you. Crap, now you're gonna think he's a weirdo. What do I do?

Just do something and stop thinking so much.

You watched him warily, as he slowly started moving his arm towards you. Was he trying to… grab your… shoulder??

No, what are you doing? Not this again. Well, it too late now.

Miles placed his hand on your shoulder, looked you in your eyes, and said,

"Hey😏"

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

And then you laughed. And you smiled while you were laughing. As most people do. But, most people don't look that beautiful when they laugh. And most people laugh at Miles, but most people don't make it seem so friendly.

"Howdy🤠" you said back to him. Howdy?? The only time he had heard anyone say 'howdy' was when Jevon (I made up some random kid), dressed up as a cowboy one Halloween.

"Why are you here?". Dammit Miles, what was that? Before he could correct himself you had already started talking.

"Well dadgum, you can't even ask me my name first?" You told him, Looking more than a little offended.

dadgum?? What is a dadgum??

"Sorry, I'm Miles". He held his hand out to you watching your face as he did. You seemed to consider it for a moment, before meeting his eyes, and taking his hand.

"Nice to meet you , I'm [Name]". Even though you were obviously annoyed, Miles still smiled to himself. Your accent was so cute.

"Oh umm, Thank you, I think." Thank him?? Why were you thanking him??

"Most people think my accent is weird". Oh, he said that out loud? Idiot. Jeez, he had to find a way to get you out of here so he could do…something…. he forgot.

Gosh, his head was all jumbled up, he couldn't focus with you around.

"You're welcome, beautiful." ¡Híjole!. I just can't control myself tonight huh.

"Oh", you looked away from him. Now I made her uncomfortable, dammit. How do I fix this?

"Sorry I didn't mean it". Mierda. He didn't mean that.

"Oh…", now you seem disappointed. What the hell.

"No wait, I didn't mean that! Well I did but-"

"Well you need to make up your mind, did you mean it or not?". Now, you were getting angry, and he could see it. In your face, eyes, body language. There was no confusion this time.

You would think after all this time being spiderman, he would be better at talking to women. But obviously all his confidence did not transfer to his love life. He was still a hot mess.

"I'm sorry. What I meant to say was, I thought that, but it wasn't my intention to say it out loud."

"Oh." You said. he could tell you didn't know how to respond, but he also saw you visibly relax, so he just said.

"Yeah."

With both of you unsure of what to do next, the atmosphere became awkward. Again.

With the sudden silence, Miles remembered how odd the situation was, and the fact that he was supposed to be working on his physics assignment. Along with the fact that you were in his room, and Ganke was missing, he had to address the fact that you knew he was Spider-Man. What was he gonna do?

"So how bout them cowboys??". You had broken the silence with the most odd question.

"You mean like, the football team?". Miles was so confused, why are you asking him about football?

"Yeah, um it got awkward in here, and I didn't know what to say"

".....So you asked me about football?"

"Well where I come from, when things get awkward, football always starts a conversation, and most of the time an argument, but at least everybody's talking."

"So you like the cowboys?"

"Hell no",

your voice deadpanned. You were so serious you would have thought, the cowboys had personally sent you an email saying "fuck you [Name]".

Miles couldn't help laughing at that, you asked him about a team you don't even like, just to start a conversation with him. And honestly, it was interesting. It has been a long time since he had felt this open with somebody. He didn't even have to hide the fact he was-.... Damn.

"Not to be rude or anything, but you never did answer my question earlier? The one about you being here?"

"If you're asking me where I'm from, then you'll just have to wait an' see. If you were wondering why I was in your room, then to be frank with you, I really don't know."

That was…suspicious.

"I just transferred here, and I was supposed to be shown around by somebody named 'Miles Morales'," she told with a pointed look at me. I remember that my dad signed me up to be a student ambassador. He hoped involving myself in the school would make me like it better. I look at her sheepishly and shrug my shoulders.

"Anyway, with this mystery man seemingly nowhere to be found, they called his roommate to get some to the bottom of things, who swore his roommate was terribly sick with a 24hr stomach bug, and was stuck on the toilet."

"Bruh." Miles sighed, rubbing his hand down his face in a slow manner. Of course Ganke would say something like that.

Amused, you continued on with your explanation.

"But it was all okay because he was going to take ,'Imodium AD' and would be fine in about an hour. So the administration allowed Ganke to escort you to your room, and so I could at least meet you, because you're supposed to be showing me around all week."

All week??? I mean, it wouldn't hurt to be at school more. It gave him time to catch up on all his work, instead of cramming everything the night before the due date. And hanging out with you wouldn't be so bad

"Funnily enough, when we arrived, I was informed by your kind roommate, that he had absolutely no idea where you were, or when you would be back. And refusing to show me to my room because that 'wasn't his job', I was welcome to stay here, as long as I didn't bother him. Then we proceeded to play overwatch, and Apex all day. When you came in I had fallen asleep, and Ganke had left to shower, and get snacks."

Oh. Now he felt bad. You had just traveled cross country, to a new place, all by yourself. You were probably just as tired as he was.

"Well, I'll take you back to your dorm now, I can show you around tomorrow, it's kinda past curfew." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Okay that's cool". Grabbing your suitcase, purse and books, you moved toward the door. "I'll just wait for you outside".

Wait? Outside? Why were you waiting?

Hand on the knob, ready to exit, Miles froze. Right, he was still in his spider suit. And it occurred to him you had been standing in his room while he was half naked the whole time. ¡Caray!

He had made a real fool of himself tonight. He wouldn't be surprised if you went to the office tomorrow and asked for another ambassador. Whatever, he would just enjoy walking you to your dorm, and hope for the best. Right after he changed his clothes.

Meeting you outside Miles he grabbed your suitcase and start walking.

"Your room is this way" he said looking back at you.

"Well I figured that, since we agreed that's where you were taking me", you said following behind him, jokingly rolling your eyes.

Smiling Miles looked at you.

There was that silence again. But this time it wasn't awkward. It felt comfortable. It must have meant you were warming up to him. It was the perfect opportunity to learn more about you. So, he did.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉. ✼

Closing the door to his room Miles remembered how exhausted he was. He looked over to see the real Ganke Lee sound asleep. Deciding to do his assignment tomorrow, Miles got in the bed. Mind and heart still racing from what you said when he dropped you off.

'Well this is you'

'Oh well thank you Miles I enjoyed this little gathering. If that's what it's called'

'Yeah whatever it's called'

'Sleep tight'

'Don't let the bed bugs bite'

And there was that laugh again. Still as beautiful as it was before

'Goodnight Miles,'' See you in the Mornin'

He forced himself to stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about the way you said little gathering, but it sounded like 'lil' gatherin'. Or the way you smiled at him when you said it, implying that you would keep him as your ambassador. That you still wanted to see him.

Gosh, he needed to rest. Miles turned on his chill playlist, and calmed down. Let the music control him, and ease his thoughts away, along with the rhythm. Soon, Miles was peacefully sleeping. A very calming contrast to the panic that would set in that next morning. When he remembered you, and that beautiful laugh. It would be followed by his desire to hear it again, and the drop in his stomach, when he realized you knew his biggest secret.

↳ Chapter 2

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#spiderman atsv x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x black fem reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles molares #into the spiderverse #spiderman atsv x black reader #miles morales #miles morales atsv #miles morales x fem!reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales imagine #miles morales x poc #poc y/n #poc reader #poc #woc #black fem reader #black female authors #black writers #black y/n #woc y/n #earth 1610 #atsv #atsv miles #[howdy🕷️] #[Oliver T. No. 9]

[paper-starz]

I hate to bother but what all the Puppets sleep schedules

Oh you are never a bother Anon!!

As for the sleep schedules... they are nothing good I can tell you that.

We've all seen Frank's horrendous sleep schedule so Imma skip over them.

As for the others:

Wally- The BEST sleep EVER. Surrounded by comfy pillows, a glass of milk and cookies on his nightstand, and read by a sentient house, Wally Darling gets the best sleep outta all of them. He wakes up at 6 AM and goes to bed by 8PM.

Poppy- Tries to be "responsible" and get a good 8 hrs of sleep, buuut she ends up either practicing her stitch-work, knitting, or reading a long book before going to bed. She'll get a good 6 hours of sleep.

Sally- Yeah you KNOW she aint getting enough sleep. She spends most of the night perfectly practicing her lines in front of the mirror, once she's satisfied, she goes to bed.... which knowing her, will probably take a while. She gets a good 4 hrs at MOST.

Barnaby- Oh boy. Ok so most of the puppets here get too little sleep, while Barnaby is the COMPLETE opposite. He gets a wee bit too much. He gets super tired so he goes to bed real early... the problem is that he gets so tired that he doesn't want to get outta bed. The rest of the puppets (either Sally or Julie) have to drag him outta bed or convince him to get up. He gets around 10-12 hrs of sleep.

Eddie- Eddie is one of the few that manages to get a good night of sleep, or at least he tries. If he isn't awoken by Frank's theory ramblings, he'll get a solid 8 hrs of sleep!

Julie- Julie's schedule is also pretty bad. Even if she gets to bed at the "appropriate" hour, her mind is wide awake and way too restless. Most of the time, she'll pull an all nighter. She'll pass the time by either dancing, singing (quietly), painting, or screaming into a pillow.

Howdy- Also one of the worst sleep schedules. Like Eddie and Poppy, he TRIES to get a good 8 hrs of sleep, but like Julie he'll pull an all nighter. He's usually plagued by night terrors so he's terrified of going to sleep.

Although this looks pretty bad (and believe me it is), as I mentioned before, they usually combat this by having sleepovers! Battling self-awareness is a lot easier when you have someone to cuddle with!

Most of the puppets go to Poppy's barn after having a nightmare and they'll do lots of activities before going to bed. Poppy (being the best mama bird) will read them all a bed-time story, Barnaby and Howdy will crack a few jokes, Julie will dance with the rest of the puppets, Sally will put on a play (the rest of the puppets will ofc be casted as characters), Eddie will bring in some arts-n-crafts supplies from the post office, Frank will tell the rest of the puppets his latest findings, and to finish everything, Barnaby will sing lullabies to rock them all to sleep (Oh you know which lullaby! And if ya don't, its Beautiful Dreamer)

Yes, this also ends in a massive cuddle party! Frank is usually in the middle and tries to sneak out, but he's usually caught by Poppy.

Poppy: Frank...

Frank: Yes...?

Poppy: What are you doing?

Frank: Catchiiingggg some midnight butterflies....?

Poppy:....

Frank: (long-ass sigh): Fiiineeeeeeee...

#welcome home #welcome home au #self-aware swap au #welcome home wally #wally darling #barnaby b beagle #welcome home barnaby #howdy pillar #julie joyful #welcome home frank #welcome home julie #welcome home eddie #eddie dear #frank frankly #welcome home howdy #welcome home poppy #poppy partridge #poppy patridge #welcome home sally #sally starlet #answered asks

[lu-twilight-is-best-boy]

Howdy! Can I perhaps ask for Time x gender neutral reader nsfw? No real prompt, just whatever you feel like!

Sincerely,

-🎼

Hi anon 😄 thanks for the ask (this is also my first ask, yay!) I tried my best to keep this as gender-neutral as possible(i haven't wrote anything in forever so I'm a bit rusty) , I hope you like it and enjoy it

Warnings: NSFW 🔞, kissing, aphrodisiac/sex pollen/sex potion, smut with a little teeny tiny plot, bitting, hickeys, marking, mentions of cum, Gender-neutral reader, bottom reader

Summary: Someone spilled some kind of aphrodisiac potion into Time's drink. It's up to you to deal with the effects it has on Time.

Story is below the cut

Oh you where going to kill the boys when this was over because you knew that they had something to do with this, okay maybe not Twilight he looked legitimately worried about Time but you could hear the other's snickering, and so you were convinced that they had something to do with it or they at least knew what happened and wouldn't tell you

Honestly sometimes you wonder why you didn't stay home instead of traveling with the chain, now was one of those times

You sighed again as you walked back to the Inn, Time was leaning on you for support with his nose buried in your hair as part of the chain followed behind the both of you laughing.

"You know this is why I should have stayed home, all y'all are just to damn childish," you said as you pushed Time's head away from your hair and tried to get him to walk up right.

"At least it will wear off eventually, right?" Sky said as he walked up right beside you and Time

"It should all potions wear off eventually" Legend replys to Sky while making bets with Warriors and Wild on how long it would take for the aphrodisiac to wear off

You rolled your eyes and then sighed in relief when you looked up and saw that you and the others have almost made it back to the Inn which was not easy with Time practically draped over you, and he was getting even hotter by the second, or at least that's what it seemed like with the way he kept whispering in your ear.

"Well since y'all had a little bit too much fun and we are all very tired I think it's time for bed," you said as you opened the door to the Inn and walked inside.

"Finally, we will see you in the morning," Sky said as he started to walk off with the others following behind him.

"Okay we will see you all in the morning!" you yelled after them as you turned around and headed upstairs with Time.

You knew that Time wasn't feeling like himself you knew this because you had told yourself this over and over on the walk back, but he was so very close to you as he almost pushed you and himself into the room once you opened the door, you could almost feel his dick through his trousers.

You walked in and Time watched as you stopped to place his gear as well as your own down after carring it for so long, as he watched you move around the room his eyes started to darken, you turned around to ask if he was doing okay but before you could he grabbed you and pushed you against the wall as his mouth found your neck.

"A-Ahh, T- Time," you said as you tried to pry his hands off of you, but he wouldn't budge, "w- what are you doing?" you asked as you tried again to push him away from yourself just enough to make a little bit of space between you and him.

"Sorry love, I just" he said as he started to unbutton your shirt while still keeping his mouth on your neck, "I want you ____."

"No, no, no, wait, Time, you don't mean that it's just the potion making you think that you want to do this" you say as you tried to push him away again but it once again did nothing as he turned his head just enough to look at you out of the corner of his good eye.

"I know what I'm saying ____ , no potion could ever make me confused about how i feel about you or what i feel towards you," he said as his mouth went down to your collar bone and started to slowly work its way down to your chest, "i want you love, i want you more then anything."You nod and look at the wall before turning your head to met his eye "okay, I'll do this with you but on the bed Time not the wall, and you better not regret this later."

"I won't." he said with a wicked grin before he kisses you on the lips and moves from the wall pulling you along with him towards the bed in the center of the room.

You let out a small gasp as Time pushes you down onto the bed and nips at your bottom lip before leaving a trail of kisses and bites on your neck going down your body to your chest then stopping to kiss your stomach he looks up at you before he goes back to kissing down your body, You let out another gasp when Time nips at a section of skin right where it disappears below your trousers as he hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down so he can remove them from you.

You let out a moan as you feel Time's warm mouth on your bare skin as he slides your trousers and underwear down all the way and off your legs. You moan in pleasure as your skin is exposed to Time's warm breath, his tongue lapping at your most sensitive areas. You arch your back as Time's tongue makes its way down your thighs, pausing at your most sensitive spot before making its way back up. You let out a gasp as Time slides two fingers into your most sensitive spot while his tongue continues to play with you. You grab the sheets and let out a small cry as you feel Time's mouth on you, his mouth moving up from your most sensitive spot to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking it while continuing to finger you. You feel Time push your hips back down onto the bed as his fingers leave you and he gets off the bed to take his own clothes off.

You let out a sigh as you feel Time now completely naked rejoin you on the bed, he slides his hands up your legs and over your hips and lastly to your hands so he can pull them up and above your head, as you clasp them together where he placed them without him having to tell you to.

He then slides his hands back down your body resting them on your thighs. Time looks down at you lying on the bed completely bear and for his eye and his eye alone as he smirks at you and leans down to whisper in your ear "ready love?" You nod at him as he starts to slowly slide into you.

You let out a small gasp at the feeling of him filling you up, you push back as he begins to move, loving the feeling of his hard length moving inside of you, he pulls your hips up meeting his every move and he continues to thrust into you slowly picking up his pace as he does so. You grab at the headboard as Time moves faster and faster inside of you, he kisses and bites at your neck and shoulder as he thrusts into you and you feel your climax building up inside of you, you let out a small cry as you come, once Time reaches his own high he climaxes inside of you.

You let out a small sigh as you feel him slide out of you and lie down next to you, pulling you close to him and wrapping his arms around your waist as he closes his eye and mumbles "i love you" while placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You feel your own eyes close as you drift off to sleep, content in the arms of the one you love.

THE END

#ocarina of father time #linked universe x reader #lu time x reader #linked universe #linkeduniverse

[multiversed-daydreamer]

Pet Chapter 2 - Nick

WC: ~ 3k

Summary: You get more comfortable in the QZ. You have a friend in Nick. And you think Tess might also be a friend too. Joel and Tess do their best to be patient while they try to figure out how to get you up in their apartment.

A/N: Here is chapter 2! I hope you guys enjoy it! No beta on this so all of my mistakes are my own. Check out my Masterlist for more!

Tags: MDNI, Manipulation, Grooming, Weed, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Reader is disabled but can work. Dark!Joel and Dark!Tess.

The next morning dawns bright and early. You wish like hell you could get two days in a row off, but that is unfortunately not a thing in the QZ. So you force yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair, throwing the latter into a bun before going to cook some eggs. You miss coffee. 

After scarfing down some eggs and toast, you put on your worn hiking boots, throw on your favorite red hoodie, and head out into the dirty streets of Boston. You’re painting today, thank god. It’s mindless work, but it’s fairly easy, and you can mostly tune the world around you out. Besides, there is a cute boy who signs up once a week, and you two talk on occasion. Nick is about your age and is friendly enough to get you to relax a little around him. Maybe you can convince him to do a burning shift with you to pass the time a little better. You head for the FEDRA check-in table, signing your name and snagging a roller brush and a half-empty bucket of paint. 

As you make your way to the wall, setting the paint can down and looking around for your partner, you notice a few people glancing at you before skirting away. You look around and spot Nick heading your way with a roller brush of his own and a pan to pour the paint into. He bumps your brush with his as he joins you on the sidewalk, setting the pan down and snagging the paint to pour into it. “Morning, you’re stuck with me today.” You joke as he stands back up and glances over at you. 

“Howdy.” He gives you a tired smile as he drops his brush into the pan, dipping it into the paint and rolling it out before lifting it to the far side of the wall. You follow suit, starting on the opposite side. “Heard you made a new friend yesterday.” He says it casually but the fact that he knew at all had you lifting an eyebrow. 

“Met someone, wouldn’t call her a friend. She mostly just showed me around the market.” You hesitate for a moment before turning to focus solely on your work. 

Nick eyes you worriedly. “I don’t mean to freak you out or anything, but Tess doesn’t just show people around the market.” 

You frown at him, your brows furrowing. “Yeah. I figured. We got a lot of looks yesterday. Who is she?”

“How’d you two even start talking?” He asks. His lack of answer irks you. But you sigh and launch into a quiet recap of the hour you spent with Tess yesterday. 

“She seemed shocked that she didn’t know me. I just told her it was a big QZ and planned on leaving it at that, but she walked out of the booth we were in and introduced herself. I didn’t want to be rude so I let her walk with me. She seems friendly.” You shrug, not mentioning to Nick that you thought she was really pretty too. “She told me a little about what to stock up on and what’s usually always at the market. You know, that kind of thing.”

If Nick’s eyebrows raised any higher, they’d get lost in his copper-colored hair.  “Dude, what the fuck?” 

“Who is she?” You ask again, a little frustrated this time. “Should I be worried or something?”  You glance over at him, your brush falling still on the wall. 

He opens his mouth and thinks about something for a minute before closing it again. “Tess runs the underground smuggling operation in the QZ. People don’t fuck with her, and unless you’re in on her shit, she doesn’t typically fuck with you either. Sticks with her smuggling buddies.” 

You blink at him for a second. “Oh.” You turn back and start a fresh coat over where you just were. You’re pretty sure you work with a smuggler on your burning shift. Miller. “Think I work with one of those guys. Miller, right?” Again Nick gives you a concerned look. 

“When do you work with Miller?” He asked curiously. 

“Burning shifts. About twice a week. We’ve never interacted or anything, but I’ve heard whispers about him. He kinda scares me.”

Nick nods in agreement. “He’s scary as fuck. He wasn’t with Tess yesterday?” 

You shrug. “He might’ve been around, I didn’t see him though. I was a little occupied.” 

Nick nods. “Odd. Joel and Tess are always together. Pretty sure they live together too.” 

“So they’re a couple?”

Nick nods. “Scariest couple in the QZ. Seriously, don’t fuck around too much with Tess. They’re…” He trails off for a moment, searching for the right words. “Dangerous. I don’t care how nice she was to you yesterday. She’s not someone to get close to.”

You nod. “Is that why people were looking at me yesterday?” You glance around the crowded sidewalk, relieved to see most people minding their own business. You raised your eyes to look at the walkway across the street. There, on the corner of the sidewalk stood Tess, with her was a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders. Miller from burning detail. Or Joel is what Nick called him. For a split second, you swear he raises his dark eyes to your own. You whip back around and focus on the job at hand. You get an inkling that they’re there for you, and it makes you grit your teeth. “Fuck.”

Nick huffs, glancing back at them before dropping his brush to the pan to get fresh paint on his brush. “Maybe you made an impression.” He jokes. 

You shake your head. “I don’t even think we talked for an hour. And I didn’t answer like half of the questions she asked me.” 

“Maybe you not answering her is what caught her attention. Tess isn’t one to be ignored.” 

You’re not sure why that sends a chill down your spine, but it does. You can feel goosebumps rise on your arms under your hoodie.

~

Joel and Tess were just coming back from an early morning deal when Joel spotted a familiar red hoodie across the street. He nudges Tess and nods in your direction. A small smile twitches on her lips for the briefest moment when she spots you. They shuffle themselves out of the way of human traffic and rest against the corner of a building. No one would think to bother them anyway. “Well, at least it’s only painting.” She offers, already sensing that Joel isn’t pleased to see you working. With a boy too.

Neither one of them where known for their patience. After spending a lot of the night going over a plan for how to get you and what to do once you were with them, they’d both agree that it’ll take some time to prepare, and likely even longer to get you to trust Tess enough to come up to their apartment. Even so, it was like agreeing to keep you had flipped a switch in both their brains. You were theirs already, and it’s going to be torture to watch you interact with anybody without their interference. 

“Who the fuck is he?” Joel grouses as he watches you talk to some kid from afar. He’s never seen you talk much to others, a few of the other women in their detail, but mostly just ask work-related questions. 

Tess gives him an amused glance. “Relax. They’re just talking.” But she makes a mental note to figure out who’s interacting with their pet. Not just the boy, but everybody you’re friendly with is now their business. Joel scoffs and looks over at Tess. She’s always been able to hide her emotions better than him, specifically the negative ones, but he knows her. He knows Tess is just as possessive as he is, if not more so. It bugs her to see you talk to someone just as much as it does him. 

Tess meets his gaze head-on. Raising an eyebrow. Joels sighs and looks back at you. His breath hitches in his chest when he sees you already looking at him. You whip back around faster than he can do anything else, though. The boy also glances at them before saying something to you with a slight smirk on his face. Joel nearly sees red when you shake your head and respond. Whatever he says next has you freezing in your work for a moment. You look very much on edge. 

They stay for about another ten minutes before Tess mutters about a meeting they need to go to for their next street run. You don’t turn around again and Joel wonders if it’s intentional. “I think she just figured out who we are.” 

Tess glances your way with pursed lips as she guides Joel into motion with a hand on his arm. “She was bound to find out at some point.” 

~

Weeks went by, it’s been two months since you’ve arrived at the QZ and you’re exhausted every day. Cordyceps may be the cause of the real-life zombies in the world, but FEDRA has its own zombies here in the QZ, overworked, underfed, underpaid, and every little thing that goes through the market tents is overpriced. 

This is the third time you’ve been back here and every single time Tess has managed to find you. You two walk along together, buying different items you both need. You try to find some sort of red flag, some kind of hint that she’s setting you up in some way, but you’ve got zilch on her. She’s kind, offers good advice, and there’s no alarms ringing in your head. She doesn’t touch you, or treat you like you’re some kind of baby who needs help. It seems like she just sees you at the market and chooses to walk with you for an hour or two before you head your separate ways afterward. She’ll walk with you to your building, tell you to have a good one, and watch you climb the steps to get inside. Then she turns and disappears onto her own way home, or wherever. 

~ 

“I’m just saying it’s weird,” Nick mutters for the millionth time. You shrug. He’s really the only person you’ve gotten close to. He worries about you talking with Tess, which you get, but it's starting to irritate you. 

“It’s not like I tell her personal shit. Hell, I’m not even the one talking most of the time. I look for something off with her every time she approaches me. I got nada. She’s normal as fuck.” You explain. Nick’s frown only gets deeper with your words. You two are starting to hang out outside of shifts now and the little attraction you had towards him a month ago has turned into a full-blown crush. But the issue with your thing for Nick is that you’re also secretly fighting to not have a thing for Tess. You’re not sure if it’s actual attraction or she’s just everything you wish you were. Strong, confident, smart, perceptive, able to read others easily. Seems to have most of the answers, and when she doesn’t, she’s not afraid to tell you she doesn’t know. She’s wonderful, and it sucks that Nick doesn’t think you should trust her. Hell, you’ve gotten around a little more and have heard all kinds of rumors about Joel and Tess, but while she seems completely terrifying to others, she’s so fucking normal around you that she almost bores you sometimes.

“Maybe she’s trying to lure you into a false sense of security.” 

“Why though?” You ask exasperated. “I’m not interesting enough to draw her attention. I’m not looking for drugs, I definitely not the type they’d want for a raid, and I’m not interested in breaking rules. I’m too boring to ever get Tess’ attention.”

“What about Joel?” 

You shrug. “What about him? He’s never at the market with us. I’ve talked to him one time and it was to ask him to help me with a team lift of shift. I’m pretty sure he only speaks in grunts. I’ve never heard him say a single word.” 

“That sounds pretty normal for him, actually.” 

You chuckle. “His speech is worse than mine.” Nick chuckles with you. You two are getting far closer lately and you think he just might feel the same way you do. 

~ Two weeks later ~

You wipe sweat from your brow as you step away from the FEDRA check-in stand. You tuck the ration cards you earned from today's shift into your pocket as you head toward the main street. You look around for Nick, sometimes he comes to meet you on the shifts you two don’t share together, but he’s nowhere to be found today. You find it a little disappointing.

“He’s not very good news, ya know.” You whip around at the voice, finding Joel Miller looking down at you. 

“Uh… Sorry?" You frown, you had no clue Miller could actually talk. 

“That Nick kid you run around with all the time. He’s trouble.” 

How does Joel Miller know you run with Nick? And why would he care if Nick is trouble? “How would you know?” The question is out of your mouth before you can think of how safe it might be to challenge someone like Miller. His eyebrow raises in surprise. 

“Ya know what I do for a side gig?” He asked back as he nodded towards the sidewalk, walking next to you. You nod silently, knowing he sells illegal items to civilians and FEDRA officers alike. He nods to himself as if making some kind of note about you. “I’ve seen him around in the underground part of the QZ. He buys from other smugglers. You seem like a good kid. Don’t get mixed up in shit like that. Stay away from him.” 

You stop, turning to Joel on the sidewalk, part of you wants to defend your friend, besides, what does Miller know? He’s never spoken to you and here he is telling you who to stay away from. You debate on telling him to fuck off flat to his face, but he walks right by you, not giving you time to come up with a response. You watch his back until the crowd swallows him. You can’t help but be a little pissed that he got the last word, and it was in the form of a command nonetheless. 

~ 

“Why did Joel Miller tell me to stay away from you yesterday?” 

Nick blinked in surprise. It was the first day off you both had had together in a while and you were spending it in Nick’s living room. Normally you’d be at the market with Tess right about now, but the encounter you had with Joel yesterday had spooked you enough to keep your distance from Tess at least for the next few weeks. 

“Since when do you talk to Joel Miller?” 

“I don’t. He approached me after shift yesterday. Told me you occasionally buy from smugglers and that you were bad news. Told me to stay away from you and walked off.” Nick laughs at that. 

He gets up and reaches into a drawer for a few items before returning to you. “I buy weed from some guys sometimes.” He shows you a joint and a lighter. You raise your eyebrow and smirk at him. 

“Is that shit even real?” You joke “Bet it’s cut with crack or something.” 

“Nah. It’s real and pure. Shitty, don’t get you too high, but it’s real.” He sticks one end in his mouth and lights it. He takes two hits before handing it out to you, raising an eyebrow. 

You hesitate. “You sure it’s not cut with anything?” 

He shakes his head. “Nah, I ain’t into that shit, and I sure as shit wouldn’t offer it to you if I thought it was. 

You believe him. You take the joint and take a hit, trying not to cough at how it catches in your throat sharply. You exhale shakily and hand it back, coughing a little at the end. It’d been years since you’d smoked weed. You two spend the afternoon talking and passing the joint between yourselves. By the time it’s finished, your mind feels emptier than it has in months and you’re giggling at everything Nick is saying. His smile is even prettier when you’re both high. You glance at the clock and realize curfew is in half an hour.

“Shit, I gotta go. I work tomorrow.” Another burning shift. Another shift with Joel Miller. 

“Can I walk you home?” 

You grin at him. “I’d like that.” He grins back. 

~

You’re still high as you make it you’re building, you and Nick are holding hands like it’s the easiest thing in the world and you’re both laughing at each other's every word. Damn he’s cute. You nod to your building. “This is me.” You grin. He chuckles, he’s been to your place plenty of times, he knows this is you. “I’ll walk you to your-” 

He’s cut off by somebody calling your name. You both turn to see Tess walking up to you. “Oh, Hello.” You respond with a small smile. You like Tess, but you don’t know her very well yet. 

“I missed you today.” She says. “Got worried.” 

“Oh sorry. I didn’t go to the market today. I was with Nick.” You gesture to him and he gives her a polite nod and a tight smile. She barely spares him a glance, her eyes scrutinizing your face for a moment. Then, to your surprise, she turns to Nick and gives him a small smile. 

“It’s getting late, why don’t you head home.” Nick seems just as stunned as you are before he nods. 

“Oh, of-of course.” He stutters a little before turning to give you a side hug. “See you later.” 

You fight to hide your ridiculous grin as you hug him back. "Thanks for getting me home.” You look up at him, searching for that easy camaraderie you two have been sharing all day, but his body is tense and he only gives you the same tight-lipped smile he gave Tess before turning and disappearing. 

You try not to be dejected by the behavior. He’s always been uneasy about your odd friendship with Tess. You’re sure actually seeing you interact with her throws him off a little. You turn back to Tess, who’s simply watching you curiously. “Did you need something?” You ask. It was getting close to curfew and you’re positive Tess had a further walk than Nick. 

“Like I said, I was worried about you.” She says lowly. 

Something about her tone raises your hackles a little bit. Her voice to low, like she was forcing herself to be calm with you. Maybe it’s because you’re high, but it’s the first time you got an underlying sense of danger around her. 

“I’m sorry. Didn’t need to buy anything this week.” That was true enough. You and Nick had started having dinner together and that leaves you with more food than usual after two weeks. “But I’ll probably be there next week. I’m starving!”

She watches you closely for a moment, eyes narrowing. “Are you high?” 

You let out a nervous chuckle at her question, your heart rate spiking. You’re not even sure why you’re scared, Tess literally sells and smuggles drugs. It really shouldn’t bother her at all. “Er… yeah. Nick had a joint.” You turn and step up a stair before turning back to her. 

She doesn’t say anything but you get the impression that she doesn’t like the idea of you getting high. Pffft. It’s fucking weed, who cares? “Hey, do you want to have dinner at my place tomorrow?” Her question takes you entirely off guard. 

“What?” 

“Joel’s bailing on me for the next few days. Since you bailed on me today, do you want to come have dinner with me tomorrow night?” 

You stand there for a moment, completely stunned. “Uh… I mean I work tomorrow but I could come over for a little bit afterward I suppose.” 

She gives you a smile. “I look forward to it.” She turns to walk away but you call out to her. 

“Tess! I don’t know where you live.” You give her a sheepish grin. 

“I’ll pick you up at four, that should give you enough time to shower and change beforehand.” She turns away and walks off. 

You get upstairs and land facefirst into your bed. The first thing you think is that Nick is never going to let you hear the end of the fact that you agreed to have dinner with Tess. The second thing you think about is that you never told Tess what time you get off. You guess Joel takes the burning shift enough for her to know when you get off, but you never told Tess you took the burning shift for tomorrow. 

~

Tess closes the door behind her. It’s the first time since they’ve decided on you that you’ve done something she’s had to hold herself back from wanting to berate you or even wanting to punish you. 

Joel raises an eyebrow from where he's sitting at the table looking over the plans for the upcoming raid. They weren’t going, but they’re still coordinating with the team that is. “What’s up?” 

“She didn’t show at the market.” Joel immediately sits up straighter. Tess holds up a hand to stop his immediate infuriated worry. “She’s fine. Was high when she showed up home though.” 

“High?” Joel’s lip curled into a snarl. “Who the fuck- Nick? Don’t tell me that fucker was with her today.” 

She nods. “He walked her home. She said she was with him today instead of going to the market. Saw them holding hands and giggling the whole way up the street.” 

Joel’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists. “I told her to stay the fuck away from him.”

Tess raises a surprised eyebrow. “You did? When?” 

“Yesterday after shift. Saw her looking for him when she got off. I told her I’d seen him around the smugglers. Told her he was bad news and to stay away.” 

Part of Tess wants to be mad at Joel for approaching you. But she agrees with him. So she nods. “She agreed to have dinner with me tomorrow.” 

“What? Like to come over to have food with us tomorrow?” Joel's pulse spikes with anticipation. 

“Not us. I told her you were out tomorrow. I want you to disappear for a few hours. You can come home near curfew, maybe we can ambush her.” She looks at him. “Tomorrow, Joel. We get our pet tomorrow.” Finally, after months of planning, you’d be theirs.

~

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#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #tess servopoulos #joel miller x reader #tess x joel x reader #tess x reader #dark fic #halloween

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

Hurtful Words

_°_°_°_°_°_

“Oh, come on, Rebecca! You have to like her, even a little bit!” Keeley teased, Rebecca huffed as she plopped back into her chair, “No. Keeley. I don’t like her, end of discussion!” she ordered, Keeley only smirked, “Rebecca…I can see you check her out from a mile away!” Keeley cackled at her bestfriend’s face.

“No, I don’t!” She blurted, “I don’t like y/n! I never have and I never will! Doesn’t mean that all the boys in the lockeroom or everyone else has a huge massive crush on her doesn’t mean I do! It’s nonsense! Y/n’s not my type anyway, I’m simply out of her league!” She defended, Keeley’s face softened a bit.

“You should tell her Rebecca, y’know, before it’s too late?” Keeley suggested, grabbing her unicorn planner and walking out Rebecca’s office. The blonde woman watched as her best friend left, she thought about it for a moment before slamming her laptop shut.

“FUCK” she screamed, rubbing her knuckles on her temples. She wasn’t necessarily the greatest with feelings. Or talking. when it came to y/n, she stuttered like a child learning the alphabet. She was seriously one of the most beautiful women she had seen. Just being next to her made Rebecca sweat.

“Dammit, Rebecca. You’re a big girl. You can do this. Put your big girl pants on and go for it” she mumbled to herself as she marched to y/n’s office. The club had been renovated so that there was more room for more coaches if they decided to have more which made y/n have her own office for the time being.

Entering the lockeroom she looked ahead not wanting to see any more butt cracks that day than she already had. “Boys” she greeted, “Ms. Welton” they replied.

She took a deep breath as she knocked on the main office door, “Oh, howdy boss! Great timing we were just talking about ya!” He smiled optimistically, gesturing to the so-called ‘Diamond Dogs’

“Actually, Ted, I came for…uh, y/n, actually.” Ted’s smile faded and had a quick rebound, “ooh, now isn’t that just romantic? But I dunno, she seems all fussy and sad so you could give it a try but we all did and she won’t spill” Rebecca looked at the door a look of concern on her face, “you got it cowgirl, just be yourself. She’ll value it more when she’s knows it’s the real you,” Rebecca nodded, flashing him a little subtle smile as a ‘thank you’ before walking into the conjoined office space.

“Hey, sweetheart. I wanted to see if you were, uhm, okay?” Rebecca asked, sitting adjacent from her. She sat perched up on her window seat, knees to her chest and small sniffles. “Go away”

“Sorry, love. I’m afraid I can’t do that” she smiled, moving closer she attempted to grab her face, “Don’t,” She seethed.

Rebecca removed her hand as y/n moved to sit on her couch, “Who did this to you, darling? You can tell me, I’m right here” she comforted, knowing that y/n didn’t want to be touched she stayed seated with her hands in her lap.

“You can stop now” y/n said, her voice was monotone, cold. Not like her usual bubbly self. “You’re upset with me? Aren’t you? Hm?” Rebecca cooed, crouching down on her knees so that y/n could look at her without having to get up from her seat. She gently lifted her face up, wiping the hot salty tears from her face, y/n sniffled. “Why are you doing this?” She cried, she looked hurt. Like a puppy that had been kicked. She looked tired, afraid, regretful. “Do what, sweetheart?” Rebecca asked, pushing some hair out of her face.

“You! It’s- -it’s like you own me! I can’t name a thing about you that isn’t perfect to me, I can’t sleep without thinking of you, I can’t think straight without eventually drifting to you, Every time I walk into the build I just have the urge to walk to your office and tell you everything! You own my heart, my soul, my being. I’d go crazy without you. I can’t imagine life without you, and I don’t ever want to!-“ Rebecca put a finger her mouth, “you heard me yelling to Keeley about how I don’t like you, didn’t you, Darling?” Y/n nodded her head, Rebecca sighed.

“I didn’t mean it. I do love you. Everything about you. I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour-and-a-half to order a sandwich because you want everything at once. I love that you scrunch your nose when you smile at me. I love that when I spend a day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes; and I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. I love you, y/n y/l/n.”

Rebecca smiled faintly, placing a soft kiss on y/n’s slightly chapped lips, the smell of vanilla and caramel surrounded her as she slowly moved her hands up to her face. Y/n’s melted into the kiss, pulling away when they both ran out of breath. It took a few moments to realized what had happened.

she kissed her.

#rebecca welton x reader #ted lasso gives me life #Rebecca welton #first post #new to tumblr #i love milfs #Rebecca is mother