#and goddamn second sweet message from anons
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hi twinnieee!! this is tofu :)) how have you been? i hope you've been well and happy!!
i'm just here to let you know that i'm applying for UPCAT since it's applicable for me now and i'm still planning on taking psychology, if not philosophy. although it's a pre-law for me now because i want to be a lawyer. haha crazy because i only planned on psychology because of you and had a full-length plan on becoming a forensics psychology ever since you mentioned that course ^^ i'm not expecting that i will pass since i know that the exams will be hard but i will try (iskolar ng bayan pls) (if hindi pumasa hello green school live jesus in our hearts forever na anthem ko hanggang mamatei)
anywayss, i just want to thank you because if not for you, i wouldn't dream of going to UP and i wouldn't dream of taking psychology ^^ i might be somewhere deep into doing something i don't even want so thank you a lot haha (im sorry im becoming sentimental its just that i was doing my applications earlier and then i thought of you and then stared at the wall) and also i'm turning 18 this year :')) the 18 plan has been out of the window ever since and i always remember your words, and i have more things to plan and look forward to <33
thank you again!! you were and always will be such a huge source of comfort and inspiration for me <33 i appreciate you and everything that you do. please continue on being a kind and good person that you are and i hope that you'll only have happiness and love !!
TWINNIE, TOFU, HOLY FUC
It's already been that long omayghad aldbdowkl it's finally here oh I'm so anxious and excited and so EVERYTHING for you right now! You're gonna do great, remember my points, and even if you don't it doesn't always mean you did bad! Make sure to add two choices for your course and remember that if you get in to your second choice, you can still shift - and if you don't get in, you can repeal with any of the campus but you CAN'T change campuses if that's the case. UPCAT is all about strategies and also a bit of chance with the slots, take it in stride whatever outcome you get!
I can't believe - I didn't know how much that meant to you and I had to take a bit of a break after seeing all of this because I've been just hit with the feels and couldn't form words, twinnie 😭out of all the things, a lawyer - actually you're a very strong-minded and willed individual that knows where their heart is and stands by it, you're going to do so many great things! Psychology or lawyer!
Thank you as well, you have no idea how much I love you as my twinnie and friend in my journey in this hellsite hgnhnghg gigil *ruffles your hair* thank you for remembering me in a good light and aaaa advanced happy 18th! Celebrate it however you like there will always be more birthdays and more chance for greater celebrations!
I can't stop saying thank you - but thank you so much for this message twinnie, I really needed that. And as for you, I really do hope you get into UP so that you can focus on your studies while having fun in such an environment that I know you'll thrive and grow in, but my greatest advice is to just keep being you and keep moving forward towards the thing you love and believe in. Surround yourself with the people and things you love and your kindness and goodness I know and love will shine through naturally and just as much :')
#tofu hoe#exile.goblet#it's been so long omg#years apart but time still flows and I'm glad it's flowing well for you :'D#THIS IS SO LONG I'M SORRY#and goddamn second sweet message from anons#you're all growing :'))))
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Admin prompt 12
“Describe yourself how you would describe a character you’re introducing”
I am extremely curious 👀👀
Also I hope no one is bullying you in the asks box! Haven't asked for a bit because I was worried you got overwhelmed.
Att. Saiyuki boys person
Thank you so much for checking on me! You’re so incredibly sweet, my Saiyuki boys anon! (Also, like, bless you and the one other Saiyuki follower I have for helping keep this fandom alive!) I actually only had one more rude message after those first couple I complained about, so I lucked out there. I think, because I addressed them publicly in a separate post, without naming them or publishing their words, they didn’t quite get the attention I’m sure they were after and moved on, which I’m very happy for and I had so many supportive readers, so thank you all once again. And thank you for this really interesting, surprising request, though Goddamn, I admit it’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever written because when asked to describe myself, I tend to just give basic stats – height, eye and hair colour, visible markings…basically, whatever you’d note down when conducting an autopsy, haha! I have rewritten this countless times and am just saying fuck it, and I’m just going to bore everyone by narrating the last ten to fifteen minutes of my life as if I was writing a scene in a book.
A sudden gust of wind whipped by, blowing her hair all over the place. Oh well, it was messy anyway, hastily whipped up into a bun held in place by a pen when an elastic couldn’t be found quickly enough for her liking. Taking one last draw off her cigarette, eyes taking in the gorgeous blue of the sky as her thoughts wandered, she half-turned and tossed the cigarette into the butt can, dousing it with the bottle of water she kept outside for just that reason. She sighed and allowed herself to bask just a bit longer in the warmth and atmosphere of the day outside as she pulled out her phone and scrolled through the to-do list she’d made for the day yet again. Ticking off the latest completed task, she shook her head and, half-smiling that crooked smile of hers, stood and stretched before heading back inside.
Her feet padded audibly across the floors of her apartment and though she tried to avoid the creaky spot in the floor, she hit it once again, not quite used to her new place enough to have guessed the correct spot. Damn…she hoped she didn’t have neighbours trying to sleep underneath her. Though she was surprisingly light on her feet and quick for both her size and height, she always worried she was making just a bit too much noise when it came to disturbing her neighbours.
Making her way quickly into her kitchen, with the click of a button she set the coffee going into her favourite mug (chipping now, but she hated to throw it out – who knew when she’d find another Inigo Montoya mug, after all?). Her thoughts seemed to be going a million miles a minute, so many ideas and plots and stories whooshing around without rhyme or reason, and she groaned, lifting a hand to rub at her tired eyes, pushing her glasses up into her mess of dark hair. She should probably clean those while she waited, honestly, and she reached up to pull the thick-rimmed tortoiseshell frames from their perch before giving them an almost thoughtless, habitual wipe with the bottom edge of the baggy, stained, ripped but incredibly comfortable Nirvana hoodie that was always her go-to on writing days.
The coffee shut off and she prepared to add in the usual, swinging herself up on the little pink stool in the kitchen to reach the cupboard where she kept the creamer and sugar. It seemed that no matter where she lived, kitchens just really weren’t built for short people. Even standing on tiptoes, she was just barely able to reach the second shelf of the upper cupboards…God, someday, she swore she’d have enough money to buy a place and have the kitchen custom built for people five feet and under. See how all those tall people struggled then!
Her feet knew just where to go though, after she tossed the spoon in the sink, and with coffee in hand, she headed back to her desk and the computer. A click of the mouse brought the word document back up onto the screen and her brown eyes scanned the sentences already typed onto the page. Small, broad hands, stubby fingered, with nails kept almost brutally short but brightly polished (chipping – she’d have to redo that before work tomorrow) settled onto the keyboard. Please let me find all the words this time, all the sentences to get my thoughts properly to all of them, she prayed before the air was filled with the sound of keystrokes, fast and forceful.
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Many sad thoughts running through my head but I can imagine Dabi having trust issues as you and the other anon saying. Him being afraid of getting left behind. I feel like he would say “I didn’t mean to say I love you” at some point because that’s a type of vulnerable he doesn’t want to be but it’s just one of many thoughts
AHHHHHHHH anon anon why must u hurt me like this?????? pls my whole heart just broke at this and i uhhhhh wrote 1.7k words about it,,,
❅ cw: soft dabi, angst, rly sappy ❅
It seems to happen at the most random of times. It isn’t like the movies, isn’t ever after some profound incident or momentous occurrence shared between the two of you—no, it’s always right after the most mundane things; after he catches you brushing your teeth in a cute matching set of panties and a tank top, sticking out your tongue at him, mouth full of foamy white toothpaste; after he finds you curled up on the couch buried under a fluffy blanket, nothing more than a lump and a head as your eyes rapidly scan the pages of the book in front of you, entirely absorbed in whatever world it’s built for you; after he walks into the kitchen to see you by the sink washing a few dishes, hips swaying and head nodding as you hum along to whatever song is blasting through your headphones.
But God, does it hit him like a motherfucking bus every single time, punches him in the stomach without warning, knocks the breath straight out of him.
He’s usually good at keeping it to himself, usually able to swallow it back down when those three little words begin to creep up his throat, dancing on the back of his tongue and restricting his breathing.
But eventually, he messes up.
You had started it, right after you had finished sprinkling the pizza stone with some flour while he was rolling out the dough, wiping your powdery fingers down his t-shirt, then swiping a thumb across his cheekbone, leaving a streak of white flour painted in its path, a little mischievous smile on your face and glint in your eyes.
He retaliates immediately, grabbing a pinch of flour from the bag and flicking it right in your face.
“Dabi!” you gasp, but your shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as you wipe at your face, fingers only managing to leave more strokes of the substance instead of clearing it. Your hand dives into the bag, grasping a handful of flour, inhaling deeply—enough to expand your entire chest—before blowing air out of your mouth, casting tiny, thick explosions of white at him, speckling his shirt and dusting his inky hair.
“Oh, you little brat,”
And, fuck, you look so goddamn beautiful, giggles ringing out around the room, flour strewn in your messy, tousled hair, smears of it across your cheeks and neck, sprinkled on your clothes, eyes bright and breathing laboured with exhilaration as you daintily leap away from him.
They’re bubbling up in his chest, those three stupid little words, climbing up, up, up his throat to settle on his tongue, light and sweet, floating in his mouth like candy floss and melting on his tongue only to be resurrected by another one of your giggles, or playful yelps, or squeals of his name.
And he’s too preoccupied to remember to swallow them down, to chew and chomp on them until he’s crushed them into a thousand tiny pieces as he chases you around the kitchen while you throw clouds of flour at each other, too enraptured by the soft, cute, precious sounds he’s endlessly pulling from you, too hellbent on hearing more, a man possessed.
Because he hasn’t laughed like this in ages, isn’t sure he’s ever laughed like this in his entire life, and they just slip out, when he finally catches you, chest heaving a bit from the thrill of it all as large hands curl around your shoulders.
“God, I love you,”
They’re muttered softly, just a huff of breath, really, blanketed by his laughs and yours, and you nearly miss them.
Nearly.
And then, everything stops. Your laughs abruptly cut off, and he wishes he’d have missed the sharp intake of breath you inhale through your mouth, lips parted slightly, wide eyes staring at him as your body freezes up, going rigid in his grasp, feet fused to the floor.
He stops, too, lets go of you so quickly you’d think your skin burnt his palms through the thin material of your shirt, sapphire eyes growing wide—wider than you’ve ever seen them before—as his mind catches up with his mouth, stumbling a few steps back from you.
He wants to say something, anything, but his voice is caught in his chest, fading into pathetic squeaks of breath any time he tries to force a few words out. And it aches, heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, breathing shallow—almost ceased completely—as he stares unblinking at you, sharp, tingling anxiety flooding his veins.
And you—well, you’re staring at him with this look in your eyes, something that he can’t decipher, and it makes his stomach lurch. It’s a look he’s never seen before, your eyes shining as you gaze at him, almost glittering as you stare at him, unmoving, unbreathing, unexplainable. Are you upset? Angry? Disgusted? Stunned? A combination of all four? None at all?
The fact that he can’t tell, that he doesn’t know, when he prides himself on being able to read others so insanely well, ignites flames of anger that alight his entire body, right to the tips of his fingers and his toes, blazing straight through the anxiety and simmering in his chest, eyes hardening as they glare back at you.
A beat passes, your ears ringing from the thick, tense silence draped over the room, and then he’s pushing past you roughly with a choked snarl that sounds a little like a mix between a sob and a growl, and storming out of the kitchen.
He’s cut off all communication entirely, has been ignoring you for a few days now, only leaving his bedroom out of absolute necessity and refusing to answer any of your countless texts that have been collecting on his lockscreen, refusing to even touch his phone. He doesn’t want to see what you have to say, desperately tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care, that he isn’t scared of what your messages might reveal, isn’t terrified of that impending rejection he’s so sure is lurking on the horizon.
But there’s only so long he can keep avoiding you before you finally catch him in the kitchen, just past three in the morning, fixing himself a late-night snack.
“Oh, thank God,”
He whirls around at the sound of your voice, cobalt eyes gaping for a moment before narrowing into sharp slits an instant later.
“Dabi, listen—”
“No,” he growls, eyes flashing. “You listen, I don’t want to fucking talk about it, alright?”
Leaping in front of him, you block his path, prohibiting him from leaving the kitchen and speaking quickly. “Yeah? Well I do!”
“I don’t care,” he spits viciously, the ache throbbing deep in his chest—at the very core of his body—reminding him otherwise. “There’s nothing to talk about, anyway! It’s not like I meant them,”
And that—that gets you to stop, tripping a little over your own feet as you stumble back like he’s physically slapped you, a soft, hurt little whimper getting caught in the back of your throat as tears rapidly pool in your eyes, blurring your vision.
“Wh-What?”
He glares down at you, molars grinding together as his nose twitches.
I didn’t mean to say I love you.
What a pathetic fucking sentence—it’s almost laughable, the corners of his lips quirking up in a sardonic little grin. Your breath hitches, and his shoulders tense at the sound.
‘You aren’t supposed to know I love you’ is much more accurate, his mind sneers at him. Coward. Fucking coward.
“I didn’t mean it,” he says, though his voice is beginning to quiver, trembling hands curling into tight fists in an effort to stop it, short nails biting into the flesh of his palm as the skin stretched taut over his knuckles turns bone white.
“Didn’t mean what?” you whisper, glistening tears finally spilling over and streaming down your cheeks, leaving gleaming trails of salt water behind them. “Say it, Dabi,”
He’s got his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head, knows if he opens them, if he looks at you, that he’ll break, shatter into a thousand pieces, split himself open at the very core of his body and bare his entire soul to you.
“Look at me,” you demand softly.
His jaw flexes once, slowly exhaling out his nose.
“Dabi, look at me,” a pause. “Please?”
“No.”
“W-Why?” the word escapes your lips in a little whine, broken up by your sniffles.
You know why.
But it’s those little half-sobs, the ones that keep catching painfully in your chest, that do it, interspersed with your soft whimpers as you plead with him—please, open your eyes, just look at me for a second, please!
Unable to stand it any longer, his lids finally rise, slowly revealing sparkling sapphire, glowering at you, his harsh gaze protected by a thin shield of water.
He hates this, hates not having control over his own fucking body, over his own fucking thoughts, hates the unfamiliarity of it all, of the unpleasant fluttering in his stomach and burning in his throat, swallowing thickly past the hard lump that’s formed, constricting his breathing.
Revolting, his inner voice snarls at him. You’re weak, letting some stupid little girl get to you like this, as if you even—
Your touch silences the voice, cutting it off midsentence, his whole body flinching at the soft, small hand resting so tenderly against the curve of his face, subconsciously nuzzling his cheek into your palm a second later, eyes slipping shut again.
“Dabi,” you begin, and something has changed. You no longer sound hurt, no longer sound wounded, your voice gentle and—
No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening to him right now. Panic grips his heart, puncturing it with its claws, sending blistering, sharp pain searing through his chest and slicing him open, raw and vulnerable.
“Please, don’t,” he whispers, words tumbling from his lips without his permission, voice frail, fragile, broken.
Don’t. He doesn’t want to hear them, doesn’t need to hear them, can’t bear to hear them—not if they’re false, fake, uttered out of misplaced pity and sympathy.
“I love you, too,”
A pathetic hiccup gets caught in his throat and he chokes on it, chest stuttering as he shakes his head, lids clenching tightly against the unfamiliar sting of tears, lips pressed together firmly to stifle the tiny distressed sounds that keep crawling up his throat, trying to escape.
There’s no way, she’s lying, how could she ever—
“Yes,” you whisper, thumb caressing his jaw. “I love you, too,”
#dabi x reader#dabi#todoroki touya x reader#todoroki touya#dabi angst#dabi fluff#???? just BARELY#TW SOFT DABI#AHHHHHH anon i am screaming endlessly into the void#sweet anon 🥺#clari gets mail
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Three times shawn says he miss you and send a photo, one time you surprise him by coming home early
Right now I’m missing you
Shawn Mendes x female reader
Warning: fluff, a lot of emojis used,maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors.
Note: Hey Anon, thank you for requesting. I had so much fun writing this one. Hope you like my attempt in writing your story idea.
First
Bzzzt bzzzt
You paused reading your script and, grabbed your phone that was on the side table. You smiled when you saw it was a message from Shawn.
It's really sweet that Shawn always miss you whenever you travel for work. Frankly, you always miss him too. This is just the unspoken thing that happen when two busy celebrities start dating. Both of you have busy schedules, and so every little sweet uninterrupted moments are more precious than ever.
Text message
Shawn: Wish you were here with me, I miss you….
You: I miss you too 😍
Shawn: I miss you most 😏😏
You: I miss you mostest 😌
Shawn: Me + U = ❤️, so Me - U = 😢
You: Can’t wait to FaceTime you tonight 😏😏
Shawn: Can tonight just come sooner…
You: Patience, my love.
Shawn: Because you’re the one asking, I will try to be patient.
You: Shawn if you can survive me friend zoning you for 5 years, you can survive this 🤨
Shawn: I hate how you’re always right.
You: It’s just in my blood 😉😉😉
Shawn: God, I just love you. Anddddddd I misssssssss youuuuu ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
You: I love you tooooo and I missssssss youuuu tooo ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Second
It’s been a long, long day.
Your eyes felt heavy. You were struggling to stay awake to finish your night routine. Just a few more steps, that’s all you needed to stay awake then you could go to sleep. Suddenly, your phone vibrates and dings rather loudly. It snaps you out of your dazed state. You proceed to grab your phone and saw a text from Shawn with an image attached.
You have been away for your new movie and wouldn’t be returning until four more weeks at the earliest. Obviously, the two of you have been continuing to message and FaceTime each other throughout the time you have been away, but you were pretty busy.
It seems the only time he’s able to get you to himself is at Goddamn one in the morning. He knew you would still be awake otherwise he wouldn’t have sent the image.
Text message
Shawn: Right now, I’m missing you a little too much.
You: You know we just FaceTimed like thirty minutes ago right?
Shawn: Yeah, But I still miss my girl 😢😢😢😢
You: I still miss you too honey..😢😢
Shawn: No amount of FaceTime or texts can stop me from missing you. I just love you so much.
You: I love you too, wish we could cuddle right now🥺🥺🥺🥺.
Shawn: The bed is just too big and I wish I can be your pillow right now, come home soon Y/N 🥺🥺🥺
You: I will baby, as soon as I can 😉😉😉
Shawn: Promise?
You: Promise Shawnie.
Shawn: pinky swear?
You: YES! Shawnieeeeeee, I swearrrr ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Shawn: Tarzan says he misses his mommy 🥺
You: Well, Tarzan. Mommy miss you too 🥺🥺
Shawn: Come home soon, we both miss you a little too much and too often 🥺🥺❤️
You: Don’t worry baby, I’ll be home soon. I promise ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Shawn: I can’t wait! 🎉😆😆😆
You: Me too!! 🥲🥲🥲🥲
Shawn: Goodnight my love ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️, have a good sleep! Call me when you’re awake!! 😍😍
You: Goodnight Shawnie ❤️❤️❤️, definitely calling you once I wake up! 😍😍😍
Shawn: I’ll definitely dream about you 😌✌🏻
You: Stop making me blush 🙄
Shawn: then stop being so cute and lovable 😛
Third
You were in the middle of hair and make up on set when the first text comes in, followed quickly by a second and the third.
Text message
Shawn: 🆘🆘🆘‼️‼️
Shawn: 🆘🆘🆘🆘‼️‼️
Shawn: Help!!! I miss you so much 😫😫😫
You: I wish I could be at New York with you right now 😢😢
Shawn: New york is just not the same 🥺🥺… I like it more last time because you and I were holding hands while exploring the city ❤️❤️
You: Shawnie… 🥺🥺🥺🥺
You pout as you look down at your phone. The two of you haven’t been able to spend much time with each other in over a month. You have been filming in london for a month while he was at New York.
All you want is his kisses and cuddles. All you want is him holding your hand right now, all you want is his clingy behaviour who won’t let you leave the bed. All you want is to sit on his lap while talking about the most random things. All you need is him right here, instead of being millions of miles away.
Shawn: I know, it’s just it’s been a long month 😭😭
You: Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon.
Shawn: How soon? 🤔🤔🤔
You: Soon, soon! 😌😌😌
Shawn: Can I know the date of your arrival?
You: Nope! 😛😛
Shawn: please! Please! 🥺🥺🥺
You: call you tonight baby, gotta do a scene 😘😘
Shawn: you are so annoying… 🙄🙄🙄
Shawn: honey, you can’t just not tell me 🥺🥺🥺
Shawn: please! Let me know when 🥺🥺🥺🥺
Shawn: 🥺🥺🥺🥺
*missed FaceTime from Shawn*
You: Calling me won’t help, love 😌😌
Shawn: ugh 😑 fine, I thought I could convince you with my pretty face 😌😌. But I guess I’ll be a good person who knows the definition of patience.
You: Good Boy 😛
Shawn: Did you just refer me as a boy?
You: maybe….. 😜😜
Shawn: Excuse me!!!!
Shawn: Hello!!!
You: Yes?
Shawn: I’m a man, not a boy 😡😡
You: says the person who literally got a tattoo saying Good Boy.
Shawn: I can’t with you 😑😑
You: Aww, I love you too Shawnie 😙😙
Fourth
Shawn woke up before his alarm again, he slowly sat up while letting out an unhappy sigh; this whole month he felt like he’s all alone, while you were working. He missed the satisfying feeling where he can just roll over and find you there sleeping peacefully next him instead of being million miles away.
Shawn let out a small sigh again as he stretched his hands and slipped on one of his ring and watch, finishing his look. He scanned over himself in the mirror once again, adjusting the sleeves of his button-up shirt.
He just kept pouting at the sad reminder. He thought about texting you but then his phone began to ring from his bed and the next thing he knew he was rushing to the studio. 
—————
"Hurry up!" Brian simpered as he grabbed his hand and yanked him as soon as he arrived at the studio.
"Is everything okay?” Shawn asked. "Please just tell me what is the emergency.”
"Just step inside," Brian said hastily, motioning towards the doors, a big smile plastered on his face.
"Brian, I swear, if this is some sort of prank..." Shawn trailed off as he turned the doorknob and pushed opened the door slowly. Shawn was half expecting a bucket of water to dump on him or a pie in the face, but none of that happened. Instead, he was greeted with a dark studio. Shawn looked quizzically at Brian, who just shooed him into the room.
"Seriously Brian, what is going on?" Shawn questioned, looking warily into the room. He felt Brian’s hands on his shoulders and pushed him into the room fully, staying behind him.
The lights came on suddenly and you stepped fully to his direction and cleared your throat, loudly announcing yourself, “Hey Shawnie, did you miss me?”
From the the looks of it, and Shawn stood stock still for a moment.
You caught a glimpse of his expression of adoration, love and surprise, before you wrapped around him like a Koala Bear.
“Oh my god, Y/N! Whe-when did you get here?”
“Went straight from the airport, baby.”
“Oh baby, I’m so happy you’re here! I-I can’t believe you’re here.” he laughed and squeezed his arms around you, never wanting to let you go. He picked you up more and spun you around a few times, Shawn was just super giddy that you were finally here with him, finally.
You too squeezed him even harder, if that was even possible, “I’m here, love, I’m here.”
He pulled back slightly, kissing your forehead. “This is the best surprise ever, I love you.”
“I love you too Shawn.”
Thank you for reading guys... feel free to like, reblog, follow my account, leave a comment and my chat is always open for random chats or requests... appreciate every single one of you... ❤️
Taglist: @monikamendes @holland-styles @bvttercupbby @lonelyreputation @badreputationlove @shawn-is-my-giant-jellybean @benito-mi-vida @swiftmendeshoran @yournameoneverypage @shawn-is-bruh @mendesbhraanth @perfectlywrongsm @imaginashawnns @smendes-forever @nervousmendes @whenyoureadyholland @shawn-youth @myboyshawn @camilalewiss @camilalewisss @theregoesmyherojd @nanijaac1 @shawnieeboyy @silverswallow
#shawn mendes fanfic#shawn mendes fic#shawn mendes blurb#shawn mendes fluff#shawn mendes x reader#shawn mendes story#shawn mendes imagine#shawn mendes smut#shawn mendes fandom#shawn mendes x y/n#shawn peter raul mendes#shawn mendes x you#shawn mendes oneshot#shawn mendes stories
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More “biting” 😉 stories of coops please?
Anon 1: Do you think you’d be willing to do more kinky coops? Maybe a follow up to truth or drink where Sirius gets tied up again?
Anon 2: Mixed prompts 80-83 pls!!
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! This is part 1 of today’s fics--hope you enjoy! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, whom I love and adore.
TW for restraint kink, edging, smut, and hickeys
Mixed Prompt 80: “ You’re going to regret that sweetheart.”
81: “Are we clear?”
82: “Try to stay quiet, understand?”
83: “Don’t hold back, baby.”
“Did you see Coach’s email?” Remus asked as he scrolled through his inbox and reached for another piece of chocolate; they were shaped like little hearts, because Sirius was a sweet, sweet muppet of a man and had a romantic streak wider than the continental US.
“I did, yeah,” Sirius said from the doorway to the kitchen. “It’ll be pretty nice, having two days off in a row.”
Remus read through the rest of the message. Too much snow, unsafe conditions, practice cancelled, yada yada yada. A sudden thought struck him and he glanced up. “Hey, maybe we could try something a little more…”
Sirius grinned as the chocolate clattered to the countertop, along with Remus’ phone. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”
Remus swallowed around the sudden dryness of his mouth. Chest. Arms??? THIGHS. FUCK. “Huh?”
“I was saving these for our actual day off, but it seems fate had other plans.” Sirius’ grin became a downright smirk as he quirked an eyebrow and bent his knee.
“When—how—what?” Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tight, dark red fabric that covered Sirius’ legs up to his thighs. Bows. The socks had bows on the top, and they matched his underwear. “How long have you been standing there?”
Sirius shrugged. The upper half of his body was bare, and Remus tracked the movement of every muscle. “About five minutes. Your email must be very exciting.”
A soft whine escaped his throat. “Where did you get those?”
“Online.” Sirius flexed his thigh and all the air rushed from Remus’ lungs. “Why, do you like them?”
“I want to take them off with my teeth,” he blurted. “Fucking hell, Sirius.”
“That can be arranged.” Mischief played at the edge of his mouth as he began backing away. “Though you’ll have to catch me first.”
And he ran. Remus stood there in shock for a moment before sprinting after him, skidding on the floor as he grabbed the bannister. Sirius was already on the bed when he made it to their room and snapped the top of one thigh-high at Remus playfully.
“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”
“Promise?”
Remus was on him in an instant, sucking a bruise into the side of his neck as he pushed Sirius’ arms over his head and settled between his thighs, grinding his hips down. “How long have you had these?” When Sirius smiled instead of responding, he bit down on his shoulder. “Tell me.”
“Four days.”
“Where did you hide them?”
Sirius gasped at the pressure on his wrists. “Nightstand.”
“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”
A slow, smug look covered his face and he nipped Remus’ bottom lip. “Yes.”
“Turn over.” Sirius bucked his hips up instead, and Remus let go of his hands to flip him hard enough he bounced a bit, then attached his mouth to his shoulder blade. “God, you look fucking incredible in red, baby.”
“You think this was an accident?”
“Somebody’s feeling bratty.” Remus dragged his blunt nails down Sirius’ ribs, and he shivered. “Just for that, I’m going to finger you until you’re begging for it. Are we clear?”
Sirius turned his head to the side and rolled his hips back. “I’m not begging for anything.”
“We’ll see.” Remus continued mouthing along the strong line of his shoulders as he fumbled blindly in the nightstand drawer for the lube, then paused. He straddled Sirius’ waist and leaned over to sift through the various items that they had tossed in without thinking—playing cards, a book, Sirius’ tie, a few condoms that they hadn’t touched in months… “What the fuck?”
“What?”
“Where’s the lube?”
“Are we out?”
Dread pooled in Remus’ gut. The mere thought of trekking through the snow to get lube or—even worse—finding out all the stores were closed was almost enough to kill his boner. Almost. Sirius was still in red underwear and fucking thigh highs, after all. “No. We can’t be out. Didn’t we just buy some the other day?”
Sirius shrugged. “It’s been a while, I don’t know.”
“It has been a while,” Remus muttered.
“I think I put some in the laundry room so we would have extra.”
Relief made butterflies erupt in his chest and he kissed Sirius’ cheek. “You are so smart and I love you. Hang on one second, okay?”
Remus’ hands shook a little bit as he hurried back downstairs and down the hall, standing on his tiptoes to see into the cupboards. Laundry detergent, Windex, fabric sheets, two pairs of Jules’ socks…
He pushed the detergent aside and felt around for the familiar bottle. “Where the hell did you put it? Come on, baby, work with me here.”
Clear plastic caught the light on the highest shelf and Remus thumped his forehead against the washing machine. He got the stepstool with minimal grumbling and grabbed the lube, making a mental note to block that entire shelf and remind Sirius that he was five foot fucking eleven, which was well above average.
“Baby, we need to have a discussion about—” He stopped cold in the bedroom doorway, then sighed. “Really?”
Sirius arched his back as he pressed two fingers back into himself, his jaw going a little slack. “You were slow.”
Remus took a deep breath when he saw the half-full bottle of lube on the bed next to him. “Where’d you hide that?”
“Under my pillow. You didn’t even check.” Sirius’ breath caught as his hand changed angles, but his smile remained. “I thought you’d call me on it for sure.”
“You know, most people wouldn’t play terribly mean tricks on their fiancé on Valentine’s Day, especially when that fiancé was already going to fuck them so hard they can’t walk straight,” Remus said as he walked slowly toward the bed and tossed the other bottle next to Sirius. “You’d better count your lucky stars we don’t have practice for the next two days.”
“Oh?” Sirius eyes fluttered shut for a second and he reached for more.
Remus smacked his hand away. “Yes. Was the shelf really necessary?”
“I had to delay you somehow. Did you use the stepstool, or did you climb on the dryer?”
“None of your fucking business, tall-ass. Turn over.”
“Make me.”
Remus reached back into the nightstand and pulled the tie out, manhandling Sirius’ arms over his head and tying them to the small ring they had put in the headboard for that exact purpose. Sirius made a confused noise when Remus grabbed his silky-soft underwear off the foot of the bed and slid it back up his legs until it was snug and tight again. “Much better.”
“Wait, wait, wait, what happened to fucking me until I can’t walk straight?” Sirius’ eyebrows drew together and he nudged his leg against Remus’ side, only to have it guided back down by a firm hand. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s Valentine’s Day!”
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” Remus said drily as he squeezed the thin strip of bare skin on Sirius’ thighs. “Between the super fun game of tag and then hide-and-seek, I thought you didn’t want me to touch you.”
“But you will, right?” Nervousness laced his voice. “Right?”
“Maybe. Might get myself off and then leave you here, though.” He leaned over and dragged his lips down Sirius’ chest. “I’m still on the fence.”
“Non, non, non, get off the fence. The fence is not a fun place to be.”
“Really?” He continued to the edge of Sirius’ waistband and dipped his tongue under the satiny fabric, then feathered his mouth along the outline of his dick until Sirius’ knees started inching upward in pleasure. “Hmm. I think it’s a great place to be, actually. You could beg yourself hoarse and I wouldn’t have to do a goddamn thing.”
“What do I have to do?” Sirius panted. The front of his boxers was already darkening with precome and his pupils dilated when Remus palmed himself through his pants.
“Try to stay quiet, understand?”
Sirius clenched his thighs around Remus’ waist as he pulled his shirt off, only to shakily straighten them out again when Remus fixed him with a withering look. His dick looked painfully hard as Remus got off the bed and slid his pants down his legs, giving Sirius a great view of his ass under the tight black underwear he was wearing.
“Oh, yeah, that was supposed to be a surprise for you,” he said mildly when Sirius whined. “It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. One of us was getting railed tonight.”
Sirius perked up. “Really?”
“That was the original plan. Now that you’ve got these—” He plucked the edges of the thigh-highs as he knelt on the mattress again. “—I might need to rethink that idea.”
“Nope, no you don’t.” Sirius wrapped his legs around Remus’ hips and tugged him down. “You really don’t need to rethink that, it sounds like a fantastic idea—”
Remus pressed his palm over Sirius’ mouth and pushed his legs down with the other. “What did I say about being quiet?”
A soft noise tore from his chest as Remus ran the heel of his hand up Sirius’ dick and felt it twitch beneath the fabric. “Desolée,” he said as Remus scooted backwards a few inches. “Desolée, mon coeur.”
“Good job.” Sirius sighed happily as he worked a hickey onto the bit of skin between his underwear and his socks, but his chest hitched when Remus moved barely an inch to the side.
“What’re you doing?”
“Decorating.”
“Me?”
He sighed and bracketed Sirius’ ribs with his elbows, resting his chin on his hands. “Yes, you. You’re beautiful, and I’m just making sure people know you’re appreciated. Now be quiet.”
“Nobody’s going to see those. They’ll be gone in three days.”
“I’ll know.” Remus placed a slightly darker bruise on his inner thigh and Sirius’ hips canted to the side with pleasure. He hummed against his skin, then pulled away. “I’ll have to finish these when I turn you over.”
“When?”
“If.”
“Re.”
“Oh, come on,” he scoffed with a smile, leaning up for a brief kiss. “You know me better than that.”
Sirius’ eyes crinkled. “I do.”
“Let me enjoy myself in the meantime, yeah? I think I deserve it after everything you’ve done today,” he teased, adding new hickeys to Sirius’ other thigh until the bare skin was mostly dark lilac. He skimmed kisses down both his legs, paying special attention to the backs of his knees and the cute little bows at the tops of his thighs. “I love these.”
“Yeah?” A pink flush spread to Sirius’ chest.
“Yeah. Somehow, they’re both adorable and sexy.” Remus reached up and tapped his nose. “Just like you.”
And then he licked a long, slow stripe up the front of Sirius’ underwear, which made him shake from head to toe. “Oh, fuck me.”
“Not yet.” He did it again, this time giving his hips a squeeze. A choked moan slipped through and he shushed him softly. “Quiet, baby, remember? I’ll tell you when you can make noise for me.”
“Oh.” Sirius’ eyebrows pitched upward as Remus slowly slid the sticky fabric down and replaced it with his tongue. “S’il vous plait. S’il vous plait, mon cœur, je le veux, s’il vous plait. ”
“What did I tell you?”
“I—I—” Sirius clenched his teeth as Remus sucked just the head of his dick into his mouth. His abdomen jolted under Remus’ palms.
“You’re getting all accent-y.” Remus smirked, leaving a mark on the crest of his hipbone. “I told you that you could beg yourself hoarse and I wouldn’t have to do a god—” He kissed the soft skin below Sirius’ ribs. “—damn—” Another kiss, just under his sternum. “—thing.”
A tremor ran through Sirius and he pulled on his restraint for a moment, hard enough that the headboard creaked. “Ngh. I love you.”
“I love you, too. I think it’s time to finish those decorations, hmm?”
Sirius nodded enthusiastically and Remus untied his hands, flipping him by the hips for the second time. He practically purred as Remus tied him up again and pressed his hands into that broad back; Remus pushed his knees until they bent and Sirius propped himself on his elbows, breathing heavily and bare but for his thigh high socks.
“Color?”
“Green.” There was no hesitation in his voice.
“Good.” Instead of going straight to his legs again—which were flexed in the new position and doing absolutely wonderful things to Remus’ thought process—Remus grabbed the half-empty lube and poured some on his fingers.
“What’re you doing?” Sirius asked, trying to shift around and see. He froze when the first finger pushed in without an issue. “Huh. But—but you said—”
“I didn’t tell you to start making noise.” Sirius pressed his face into the pillow and his knees jerked inward as Remus added a second finger. “You already did this part for me, didn’t you?”
“Mhmm.”
“But I didn’t tell you to.”
“No.” The word was barely a whisper.
“And as much as I love you—” He kissed Sirius’ lower back and scraped his teeth along the dimples there. “—and want to make you fall apart, I can’t let you do whatever you want without consequences.”
“Yes, you can,” Sirius gasped, tightening around him as Remus pressed upward. “You can, I don’t mind.”
“No, I can’t, and you’d better be quiet before I drag this out even longer.”
There was a beat of silence while Sirius got ahold of himself again. “How long? The usual?”
“Since it’s Valentine’s Day, eight minutes.” Remus smoothed a hand up his spine and pressed down between his shoulder blades until most of his upper chest was on the pillows before slowly dragging his fingers in and out, pushing just next to his sweet spot until Sirius quaked with the effort of suppressing his moans. He added a third finger a moment later and Sirius’ thighs knocked together. “Hold yourself up, baby.”
Sirius pulled his elbows in once again, supporting his chest as Remus added a few new hickeys to his thigh and stretched him slow and deep. He gave his wrist a twist when he moved to the right side and Sirius dipped for half a second, one leg threatening to give out.
“Hold yourself up,” Remus reminded him, wrapping an arm around his lower belly and lifting slightly; Sirius’ breath caught and his shoulders folded in a bit. “You okay?”
“Ouais.”
“Alright. Two minutes left.” He pushed his fingers in further and felt the ripple of pleasure roll through Sirius under his mouth, then kissed the middle of his back. “Like that?”
“Uh-huh.” Sirius’ voice was tight with pleasure and wavered with swallowed moans.
Remus flexed his fingers and brushed against his prostate; Sirius nearly collapsed onto the bed and a whining noise was half-muffled by the sheets. “What was that?”
“ ‘s nothing, ‘s nothing, keep going.” Sirius tried to get to his elbows again, but even though Remus had stopped moving, he seemed to be having trouble. “Sweetheart, please.”
“You know the rules, baby. Five more minutes.”
“I can’t—I can’t—”
“You will.” Remus rubbed Sirius’ side to soothe him, but didn’t take his fingers out. “How about this: if you can hold yourself up and make no noises for two full minutes, I’ll fuck you and you can come whenever you want. Sound good?”
Sirius nodded frantically and struggled to get his knees under himself. “D’accord.”
“Time starts…now.” Remus kept his eyes on the clock as he plucked at Sirius’ seams, spreading his thighs to get a better angle when it looked like he was starting to relax into the feeling. One minute left. Something that would have been a moan if Sirius had a little less willpower lodged in his chest and he tensed around Remus, legs shaking with arousal. He was damn near dripping onto the sheets.
Forty-five seconds. Remus bit his lip and ran his free hand up Sirius’ thigh, digging into the bruises just enough to get his attention. “You look so pretty with these,” he murmured, leaving a trail of small bites down his spine. “It must have been hard finding thigh highs that fit, huh? You’re so strong, so beautiful, and I love that about you.” He made sure to run over Sirius’ sweet spot on every drag until his breaths got shallower and his dick twitched. Twenty seconds. “You don’t really want to come right away, do you? You like it when I take control. You like being tied down and edged until you’re a mess. Ten seconds left, baby.”
Sirius’ back bowed as Remus’ hand brushed his dick. “Pas juste,” he blurted, then groaned when Remus paused. “Fuck.”
“Was that a sound?”
“No, no it wasn’t.” He pushed back against Remus’ hand and whined when he pulled his fingers out. “Re, I only had five seconds left.”
“Bummer, isn’t it?” Remus said with mock-pity, rubbing wide circles along Sirius’ ass and thighs.
“One more chance?”
“We had a deal, love. Two minutes, no sounds, no falling. You did so well and then you tripped at the finish line.”
“You touched my dick.”
“Was that against the rules?”
Sirius huffed and glared over his shoulder, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the pink of his cheeks and the pleading look in his eye. “It was in my head.”
Remus made a sympathetic noise. “It’s a shame you’re not in charge today, then. Chest down.”
“I want to see you.”
“Later. Down.” Sirius rolled his eyes, but complied so his back sloped in a gentle curve; Remus smacked his thigh lightly. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”
“Oops.”
“Apologize.” When he stayed silent, Remus slid two fingers back into him. “Sirius, apologize or I’ll get you off by fingering you.”
“I’m sor—sorry.” His hips jerked as Remus pushed on his prostate one last time.
“That wasn’t so hard, huh?” He pulled his own underwear down and tossed it to the side, reaching down to push Sirius’ thighs apart while he lubed up. “Don’t hold back, baby, you can be loud now.”
“Oh thank God,” Sirius breathed, shuddering a bit as Remus pressed in and began to move. “Oh—oh, oh fuck.”
“Color?”
“Fuck—green.” He gripped the poor necktie and twisted it in his hands while the pace made his knees slip. Remus put his arm around Sirius’ midsection once again while the other hand splayed on his back and held him down into the pillows.
The thigh highs began to bunch from all the movement and Remus slowed, reaching down to adjust them while Sirius clenched and unclenched his hands, mumbling out a string of pleas in English and French alike. Remus stilled for a moment and kissed the side of his neck as he relished in the heat.
“Move,” Sirius moaned, pushing back weakly. “Please, please move.”
“I love you so much,” Remus said into his sweat-slick skin as he started again, angling up on each thrust as he lifted Sirius’ hips into the right spot. “I do, baby. And I can’t wait to have two whole days to ourselves so I can admire those pretty bruises all over you.”
“Lemme—lemme see you. S’il vous plait, mon amour, I wanna see you.”
“Alright, shhh.” Remus combed a hand through his hair and untied his wrists; they were a bit pink from all the pulling, but otherwise looked fine. He gently pushed on Sirius’ shoulder so he could roll over and was met with glassy silver eyes and lips bitten so red they almost matched his socks. “Bonjour. Do you want me to tie you up?”
“Non.” Sirius smiled and pulled him down for a slow kiss, and Remus could feel his heartbeat hammering against his shoulder. “Je t’aime.”
“Je t’aime,” he murmured back as he lined himself up again. Sirius’ eyes fell shut with a moan when Remus pushed in and he inhaled deeply, winding one leg with Remus’ and letting the other splay to the side.
“There, there, there,” he pleaded, grasping for a hold on Remus’ arms as his eyes flickered between open and shut. “Oh, fuck, je veux—je veux—”
“Do you think you deserve to come?” Sirius made a conflicted noise and pressed his knee into Remus’ thigh, only for Remus to pull it straight once more; the sock rolled down with each rocking movement. “Sirius, look at me. Do you want to come?”
It took a moment before Sirius made eye contact with him and nodded, struggling to get enough breath to speak. “Yes.”
“You were so rude earlier, but I did make you wait a long time.” Remus thought for a second, but didn’t slow his brutal pace that made Sirius turn his face into the pillows. “Can you come like this?”
“Touch me—touch me please—”
Remus lifted his lower back up and ran his teeth along Sirius’ pulse point, then wrapped a hand around his dick and jerked him quick and tight until high, incoherent sounds slipped through his lips. “Now.”
Sirius nearly kicked him in the shin as he arched his back, mouth falling open, moans muffled in the hollow of Remus’ throat. He babbled some string of whimpered words, caught between pushing Remus away and pulling him closer until their warm skin pressed across his entire front and his knees bumped together over the small of Remus’ back.
Remus followed him a moment later, sliding his mouth along Sirius’ collarbone before he came so hard his arms shook with it. A soft hand trailing through his hair brought him back to earth, though Sirius still looked dazed and shuddered every few seconds as Remus stroked a hand down his cheek and slid the thigh-highs back up with the other. “Shh, mon amour. Ça va, chérie, respire. Je t’aime tellement. ”
Sirius smiled and kissed him again, holding him close and warm as he pulled out. “I love it when you speak French,” he murmured. “Si beau.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Their quiet laughter buzzed against his chest and he littered Sirius’ face with kisses until his silver eyes cleared. “Are your wrists alright?”
With a heavy sigh, he let go of Remus and held them up. “All good.”
He kissed those, too, for good measure. “And the rest of you?”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I think you achieved your goal.”
“Which one?”
“There is no way I’m going to be able to walk straight.”
Remus hid his laughter in Sirius’ neck and rolled to the side, gathering him into his arms. “It’s a good thing we have all weekend, then.” He checked the clock and sighed. “I should make dinner soon.”
“No.”
“No? I’m not allowed to make us food?”
“Nope.”
“But that’s my present for you.”
“Your present to me is currently on my thighs and won’t disappear in half an hour.” He felt Sirius smile and nuzzle closer, then gentle pressure on his neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Payback.” Sirius rolled him onto his back and began speckling his neck and shoulders with small love bites, outlining his ribs with featherlight touches. Remus reached down and snapped the edge of his thigh high. “Hey!”
He grinned. “Couldn’t resist. You’re going to keep these, right?”
“Duh.” Sirius wound their legs together and cuddled into Remus’ side. “Mmm, you are so warm.”
Remus wrapped both arms around him and kissed the top of his head, closing his eyes. Naptime sounded good. Naptime, then dinner, then back to bed for more snuggles, or maybe something more. It was Valentine’s Day, after all.
-------------------------------
The Next Morning
The first thing Sirius saw when he woke up was gray. The second was Remus’ shocked face, followed by an ‘oh, fuck’.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, propping himself on his elbows with a wince. His backside ached from yesterday’s activities, and his thighs were still incredibly sensitive—he noted that the matching rings of hickeys had not diminished much overnight with a sense of satisfaction. Remus was staring down at his phone as rain drizzled softly outside.
Wait. Rain.
Silently, Remus passed him the phone. Sirius squinted at the screen, blinking the drowsiness out of his eyes, then froze.
Hello team,
Due to improved weather conditions and snow melt, practice today has been rescheduled for 4 pm. Thank you for your flexibility.
Best,
A. Weasley
“Oh, fuck.”
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(Fem!Reader HC) May I request for Oikawa, Iwa, Daichi, Tsukki and Yams's girlfriends feeling insecure because the boys are surrounded by taller and slimmer (she's short and chubby) girls so she grows distant with them and starts to avoid them like the plague. How they find out, approach and reassure/comfort the girl will be up to you~ 💖 I understand if you dw to write this. ^-^ It's just, I've struggled with my looks for years and it's just ☹☹☹ Sending love and hugs 🥰 - 🍡 anon
has it been six months since i last posted sth here
yes.
Love, I’m so sorry everything took so long!! Your wonderful messages never failed to brighten up my day and I just think you’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met! I may not show it, via my blatant avoidance of this blog, but you’re amazing and I appreciate every message, thank you!!
Without further ado, I hope this was worth the wait (probably not, I haven’t written in half a year, but I tried my best) <3
Also, I didn’t do Daichi, Tsukki and Yams, as I went wayyy overboard with the headcanons (it’s 600+words each), but feel free to request them again in a separate ask, love :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oikawa and Iwaizumi comforting their insecure girlfriend (Plus-sized!Reader)
Warnings: Some self-loathing, but it turns fluffy afterwards
You tried to even your breathing, (e/c) eyes glued to the horde of fangirls almost jumping on your boyfriend. Your hot, talented, brilliant, athletic boyfriend - Who, to your dismay, seemed adamant to keep flirting back.
Normally, you weren’t a jealous person - It’s a given when it comes to dating someone such as “The Great King”. That day, however, the green monster seemed to be rearing its ugly head, pushed upwards by all your deep-rooted insecurities. The girls he was surrounded with were stunning - Long, slim legs, the oversized sweater of the Seijoh uniform actually being oversized on them, the way they seemed to look so much better by your lovely boyfriend’s side than you.
“Y’know he’s only doing that to ensure Seijoh’s popularity or whatever bullshit he keeps spewing about it, right?”, a deep voice spoke from behind you, effectively startling you. How Iwaizumi could read you so well, that would always surprise you, but you supposed it came with years upon years of having to read his seemingly unreadable best friend. You tried to will away the tears that had formed in your eyes, letting out a small giggle at Hajime’s characteristic profanity.
“Oi, Shittykawa! Get your ass over here and greet your girlfriend!”, he yelled, effectively grabbing the attention of the entire fan-club and the man to whom it was dedicated. You felt a deep flush rising on your cheeks at the attention, prepared to listen to a quick dismissal from your boyfriend, but were instead met with a surprisingly feminine squeal.
Oikawa seemed to all but pounce on you, taking you into a tight hug and spinning you around a little. Placing you back down, his whiskey eyes seemed to have a gleam to them, effectively having lit up the second he’d seen you.
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, before pouting exaggeratedly.
“Why didn’t you say anything, love? I kept waiting and waiting and my beautiful girlfriend just wouldn’t show up!”
That’s when the previously-forgotten dread made its appearance again. He hadn’t even noticed you in the sea of pretty girls. But that’s alright - You should have seen it coming, ever since you started dating the most popular guy in your high-school. Just fake it ‘til you make it, c’mon, he made a joke, laugh, Y/N, dammit-
A bitter laugh left your lips, so aggressive it even startled Oikawa.
“It’s quite alright, wouldn’t have expected you to, surrounded by all these pretty girls and all.” Another aggravated laugh left your lips, as you tried to sell it as a good-natured joke, but it was obvious that your boyfriend had definitely read through it. His expression seemed to darken, brows furrowing, before he quickly fell back into his well-rehearsed role, letting out an exaggerated gasp.
“Oh, but you’re the prettiest one out of all of them! I’d never miss your gorgeous face!” He smirked, before squishing your cheeks lightly, eyes widening in a playful expression. “Actually”, he motioned towards the girls still watching you guys oh God- before promptly placing a hand around your shoulders, pulling you into his side protectively.
“Hey, everyone, look at my beautiful, lovely, gorgeous, girlfriend! Isn’t she the prettiest?”
The girls seemed to be whispering amongst themselves, confused expressions adorning their faces, before nodding shyly. You couldn’t have cared less, though - In the arms of the boy you loved, you were sure you’d never feel insecure ever again.
Having your boyfriend be the ace of a popular volleyball team was proving to be an incredible experience, as you had the opportunity to witness not only the developing friendships on the team, but also the colossal amount of hard work that went into the winning streak they had been on for the past few matches.
You couldn’t be more proud - wearing Iwaizumi’s jersey in the stands, your voice louder than anyone else’s - Everything was going well, except for one little, tiny thing.
For once, along with the relentless Oikawa Tooru fanclub, a small group of girls had seemed to form around Iwaizumi, the only thing you could overhear being something about his “hands that were totally made for choking”.
The bigger issue? They were all perfect. In their tiny, stupid skirts and their cute shirts and their sharp jawlines and sculpted faces and - Well, you had curves where others didn’t and you weren’t particularly proud of your body. Your thighs seemed larger than usual and you almost gasped at the sudden wave of despair washing over you. Why would he date you when he could easily have them?
You weren’t a masochist in any sense - However, you found yourself unable to turn off your eavesdropping, only hearing more and more things that would make you spiral into self-loathing. You felt overwhelmed, so you quickly grabbed your bag and hurried out of the room, finding a bench to sit on and simply breathe.
Not long afterwards, however, you heard lots of squeals - presumably from Iwa and Oikawa’s fanclub - and prepared yourself for what you’d have to witness.
To your surprise, however, as soon as the doors of the court opened, you could only see a tuft of black hair aggressively elbowing everyone in the crowd, dropping a nonchalant “sorry” here and there, before finally running straight into your arms.
He breathed in your perfume, still hugging you tightly, before letting go and grinning widely towards you.
Before he could speak, however, he found himself being interrupted by some loud squeals. Looking at you, he rolled his eyes playfully before shouting:
“Trashikawa, grab your stupid fanclub and get out of here, I can’t talk to (Y/N) properly!”
To your surprise, the setter’s face twisted into that annoying, cocky smirk of his, before he coyly replied:
“Iwa-chan, maybe you should grab a hold of your fanclub! We’re well-behaved here, aren’t we?”, he smiled dazzlingly towards the nearest girl and you swore you saw her faint.
Upon glancing at your boyfriend, however, you quickly noticed his agape mouth, the surprised look quickly being overtaken by a frown, a hand grazing the back of his neck.
“Uh, thank you, ladies, I appreciate it, but I really wanted to talk to my girlfriend, so would you mind leaving us alone?”
He was being so genuine, you felt a pang of jealousy in your chest - It’s alright, he’s just happy to be supported, you had to remind yourself.
The ace had noticed your sour look, however, quickly turning back to you, mouth turned down into a scowl.
“Why the fuck can’t they stick to Shittykawa?”
You smiled giddily, before tangling a hand in his spiky locks. “Well that’s because you’re sweet, kind, genuine - muscular - and, uh”, you looked down embarrassedly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “fuck, you should be with one of them, I don’t deserve you.”
Now, you’d seen an annoyed Iwa plenty of times, but this couldn’t be matched - His brows seemed to furrow until they almost disappeared, his mouth pressed into a tight scowl as he looked your face up and down, checking whether or not you were being serious. Upon noticing that indeed, that was the case, he pulled you into him a tad too aggressively, pushing your chin up lightly to gaze into your eyes.
His glare seemed to soften, before he started peppering your face with kisses.
“You”, kiss, “are”, kiss, “the best goddamn thing”, kiss, “that’s ever happened to me.”
Finishing with his assault of kisses, Iwaizumi gave you a soft smile, before glaring playfully. “If you ever think that any of those girls would interest me half as much as you do, you’re really just as much of an idiot as Trashikawa, you know.”
Finally, he looked around before promptly squeezing your thigh, his large hand almost engulfing it. A small smirk played on his lips as he rose his gaze back to yours.
“I promise I’ll show you how gorgeous you are when we get home.”
#oikawa tooru x reader#iwaizumi hajime x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#hq#oikawa tooru#iwaizumi haijime#oikawa x reader#iwaizumi x reader#seijoh x reader#hq x reader#Anonymous
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oooh, could we get 9 (you're in love with her) for the prompt meme. bucky and sam talking about sarah?
Here you go Anon, angst and feels. Will be crossposted to AO3. Technically a missing scene from In The Woods Somewhere, it'll be a little confusing if you haven't read that. Also it's a bit long.
Sam is worried. He’s trying very hard to hide it as he saunters down the gleaming walkway that leads to the Wakandan apartment they have set Bucky up in for his recuperation, but the fact remains that he is just a bit…worried.
The after had been worse than he expected. After Sarah had left, after Shuri had figured out the deprogramming, after they had started the process. He'll be honest, he hadn't been around much the first time. A mix of him not really knowing or trusting Bucky when this happened before (and vice versa), combined with Steve's almost obsessive need to shelter and protect Bucky then.
Still, the deprogramming had gone about as well as could be expected and Sam had remained with Buck until midway through the first week when major cities across Europe had started to be attacked by some weird environmental monsters. Hill, and then Fury himself, had reached out to say that the kid, Spiderman or whatever, had the situation under control and that they would call in reinforcements if they needed it. So Sam had stayed with Bucky for the first couple of days after the deprogramming as they were testing it to make sure it took, then some tv nutjob had leaked the kid's name.
Very few of the Avengers bothered with secret identities, but the kid was like 15 or something, so Hill had requested Captain America come help out with PR, ensuring that no one believed a teenager could be one of the Avengers.
Sam had said no initially, obviously, but Bucky had insisted he was fine and didn't need a babysitter. Had even managed to say it without that crazed, trapped animal look behind his eyes he got sometimes, so Sam had jetted off to New York for a few days. He had gotten exactly two texts from Bucky during that time. One that said 'I'm fine, mom' on day one and a thumbs-up emoji on day three.
Then Sarah had called him, trying to be all relaxed and casual as she fished for what the hell was going on in Wakanda cause Bucky hadn't spoken to her or responded to her since she left. As ancient as the dinosaurs though Buck may be, he damn well knows how to use a phone, and him deliberately cutting himself off is… concerning.
He comes to the right apartment number and knocks, then waits, then knocks again. Still no response. Sam frowns. He knows he's in there. Shuri told him they've still been monitoring his vitals and that he had requested a bit of time to himself in the aftermath, but he wasn't in the clear yet so she knew where he was.
Sam pounds on the door again.
"Buck, it's me. You gonna open up?"
Silence.
"Ok, Bucky, here's the thing, you either let me in or I'm calling Ayo or Shuri to override this lock… come on, man. Please." Sam whispers at the door, knowing Bucky's advanced hearing will pick it up.
He doesn't want to call in reinforcements and doesn't want to invade Bucky's space if it's not necessary, but as he mentioned before, he's worried.
He waits for one, then another overly long minute before the door finally opens.
Bucky looks like shit. His hair is messy and greasy. His blue eyes stand out as bright spots in the pallor of his face, broken only by the intense, almost bruise-like dark circles under his eyes. His cheekbones don't stand out as much as they did when Sam left so at least he was gaining back the weight he had lost, but he's standing with a blanket around his shoulders, hunched in and holding himself like the feral creature he hasn't been in years.
"Buck?-"
"You wanted to see me, you've seen me. Can you go now?" Bucky says flatly, eyes glinting with the acerbic 'fuck off' his lips haven't yet formed.
Oh hell no.
Sam slips his foot in the door just as Bucky goes to close it, preventing it from shutting. When Bucky pulls the door back open, Sam slips inside, pushing past Buck as quickly as he can.
Bucky growls, closing the door behind him and turning a glare on Sam.
"No please, come in. I'm definitely in the mood for visitors." Bucky says sarcastically.
Sam glances around the room. It's a lot like the first apartment they all stayed in together. Floor to ceiling windows cover one whole wall, the kitchen is immaculate, clearly unused, like most of the rest of the space, save for the couch where the cushions have been left haphazardly on the floor.
"Buck. What the hell is going on here?" Sam asks, voice coming out much softer than he intended. Bucky'd been in rough shape when he left, but he had been clearly on the mend. That was the only reason Sam'd even agreed to go help out.
"Nothing. I'm fine. I don't need you here." Bucky grits out, that muscle in his jaw flexing.
Sam stares for a minute then sighs. He's starting to get it, the lines of pain that seemed to carve through Steve whenever Bucky had pushed him away. It's hard for Sam to see the desperate way Bucky is holding himself while still pulling away, and Sam hasn't been his lifelong best friend.
"Look Buck, you're entitled to a couple bad days, but I'm going to need you to convince me that this is a par for the course breakdown and not something worse 'cause we've had a monumentally rough couple of weeks," Sam says clearly.
Bucky holds his gaze for a long moment before the harsh lines of his face seem to soften and he ducks around Sam, heading back to the couch.
"Like I told you, I'm fine." He mutters as he moves. "It's just… the come down from the deprogramming is a bitch, ok?"
Sam frowns, following him to the couch and sitting next to him.
"Would you like to elaborate, Buck?"
Bucky sighs, scrubbing both hands through his messy hair.
"Best as I understand it, it's like coming down from a high or something. There are a lot of biochemicals involved in the process and the washout… well it sucks." He shrugs. "Plus the process itself is like opening Pandora's box up here," he mutters, tapping the side of his head. "It leaves me… what I mean is it makes me-"
"Your nightmares get worse." Sam finishes for him. Bucky doesn't look up, doesn't say or do anything really.
Sam huffs. "Why didn't Shuri tell me? I expect this bullshit from you, but from her?"
Bucky goes very still, continuing to avoid eye contact. It finally clicks.
"She doesn't know, does she? You never said and… neither did Steve. That's why the two of you were hold up on that little farm for so long after. For god sake, why the hell didn't you say anything Buck?"
Sam doesn't try to hold back the frustration bleeding into his voice.
"That child has more than enough of my pain on her hands. She doesn't need any more. And I'll remind you… I never expected to have to do this again." Bucky finishes softly. Sam's anger deflates as suddenly as it started.
They sit in silence for a minute, Sam watching Bucky, Bucky pretending that Sam isn't watching him until Sam finally breaks.
"Is this why you haven't spoken to Sarah? She called me, you know, said you'd been ducking her calls."
Bucky's expression changes minutely then and if Sam hadn't known him as well as he does, if they hadn't been basically living in each other's pockets for the last year, he wouldn't have recognized it: a quick flash of guilt.
"Buck, what's going on in that head of yours?" Sam asks seriously. "Didn't I tell you if you break her heart I'd break your legs?"
Bucky huffs out a bitter laugh. "Actually the last I heard on the matter you said you'd kill me if I hurt her but we'd be ok. Way to send mixed messages by the way buddy."
Sam can't sit still any longer. This whole experience is surreal. God, he needs a vacation. He strolls over to the kitchen, filling a glass with water for himself and another for Buck. He places the second glass in front of Bucky and backs up to lean on the counter, careful not to hover.
He takes a long drink, draining half the glass in one go as Bucky just stares at his.
“How was New York?” Bucky eventually asks.
Sam shrugs. “Went okay. No one is quite ready to call Captain America a liar to his face, even that piece of shit blowhard.”
That earns him a small smile from Bucky. “You think it’ll hold?”
“Well, they’ve got Pepper, Rhodey, Hill and Fury against them. I’m not sure much could stand up to that team long term so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Sam replies. Bucky isn't going to succeed in changing the topic, but maybe going the long way around will help.
They drop back into the silence. “I think Shuri is gonna let me go in a few days. The deprogramming seems to be holding.” Bucky finally says, still staring unblinkingly at his water.
Sam sighs. “You ready to come back to Delacroix?”
Bucky makes an uncomfortable-looking face, a strange cross between constipated and in pain. “I-I was actually going to go back to New York. Haven’t been home in a while, you know,” he says carefully.
Sam frowns.
“Alright Barnes, cut the crap. My nephews have been worried about you, Sarah is worried about you. What are you thinking-”
“I’m thinking that maybe this is the time to let it… let it die.” Bucky interrupts, eyes flicking up to Sam, a hard look on his face.
Sam just stands there, gaping at him for a minute.“The fuck do you mean, let it die?”
That unearthly stillness that Bucky usually carries in his frame starts to fray. He stands up, pacing to the window. “Sarah and I had a fight the night before I agreed to let Shuri do the deprogramming,” he says, then just leaves the sentence hanging.
“Yeah, the whole goddamn world could have guessed that." Sam prompts. "You’re stubborn as hell. If she got you to reconsider it wasn’t with sweet nothings whispered into your ear.”
Sam watches the tips of Bucky’s ears go a little bit red as he ducks his head at that. He really doesn’t want to know any details about whatever memory that triggered. Bucky still doesn't continue.
“So what, are you angry with her?” Sam asks.
“What? No! Of Course not!" Bucky responds, turning to face him. He still looks weary and a little… lost.
"She said… she said she didn't think I wanted this life. That I hadn't gotten to choose it and so I was too comfortable throwing it away." Bucky mutters staring at the floor.
Sam frowns in confusion. That was harsh. Probably entirely truthful, but harsh nonetheless. And Sarah said he was tough on Buck.
"Ok…" Sam prompts again.
"She said I needed to think about what I wanted to live for. What future was worth fighting for because without that I'd always be … stuck." Bucky goes quiet again and Sam's frown deepens.
He doesn't get it. Doesn't get what Bucky is trying to tell him. "Ok, so you did that and decided that she isn't in that future?" Sam tries, keeping his voice as flat and without judgment as possible.
Bucky doesn't look at him, just keeps staring at the floor between them, the expression on his face pained. Sam watches him clench and unclench his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping. But still, Bucky says nothing.
It's Sam's turn to pace. He pushes up off the counter, walking closer to Bucky as he rubs at his temple. He's tired and stressed and he's been through too much in the last 3 weeks to play decoder with Bucky and his-
He comes to an abrupt stop beside the couch. The gears in his mind grinding to a halt so suddenly he thinks you should be able to hear them shrieking.
He turns to face Bucky, eyes tracing over the tight lines of his body as astonishment slides in under his skin, under his breastbone, and behind his eyes. How had he not seen it before? How had he not noticed?
“You’re in love with her.” he breathes out, the acknowledgement hitting like a brick. Bucky goes absolutely still as Sam stumbles back a few steps, sitting heavily on the arm of the couch.
“That’s what this is about. You’re in love with her and you’re afraid.”
“Look at me Sam, look at me?!” Bucky's voice is raspy, hollowed out. Sam lifts his gaze and meets Bucky's eyes.
“I’m a mess. On a great day, I’m a fucking mess. Most days I feel like I'm barely holding on to who I am because of what I am. On a bad day?” Bucky looks back out the windows, eyes going unfocused. “I shouldn’t be in love,” he whispers flatly. “What right do I have to get this after all the carnage I have caused. What right do I have to bring someone else into the hell that is my life.” He sighs then and leans back on the window, sliding down the glass to sit on the ground. The movement is slow, achingly so, making him look every one of his 107 years.
Sam slips from the arm of the couch coming to sit on the ground facing Bucky.
“This isn’t you Buck." He whispers. "This is the deprogramming and the night terrors. This is the lack of sleep and bone tiredness talking. This isn't you."
Bucky laughs, the sound empty. "Isn't it? Are you sure about that? Because I'm not."
"The two of you have been going great. You haven't been afraid before now, is this all fallout because of what happened, because Buck, you can't let that asshole Novikov take her from you."
Bucky lets out a slow breath, tilting his head back against the glass and staring at the ceiling, face blank. "Too good. It's been too good." He mutters and the last piece of the puzzle falls into place for Sam.
"She told you, didn't she? She told you she loves you."
Bucky's eyes flick down to his, expression sharp. "She told you what she was going to do?" Bucky asks, suspicion clear in his tone.
Sam shakes his head. "She didn't have to. You forget I've known her a lot longer than you have. I know what my sister looks like when she's in love."
He has one of those moments where he wishes Steve were there because he feels he would know what to say to help. But that's not really true. He'd watched Steve stumble through enough of these conversations to know he would be just as lost. Not that it matters. Steve's gone now. Left them both.
"It was fine when it was just you, right? When you'd be the only one risking anything? But it’s different now you know that she’s as far in as you are.” Sam mutters.
Bucky’s staring at the ceiling again, face blank. “That’s not it. I’m not afraid. I’m just seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time.” he mumbles.
Sam’s lips twist into a rueful smile. Clearly? Bucky hasn’t been this muddled in a year. “You know I almost flunked out of Pararescue training?” Sam asks, trying a different tact.
Bucky looks over at him, frowning confusedly. Sam nods slowly, looking down at his hands.
“I got referred by my prior C.O. Spent 2 days in the air over the course of the first week and decided it was not for me. I mean, it was madness, right? Jumping out of a plane with nothing on but some wings someone else had made?”
Bucky smirks. “That’s real hard to believe, Sam. You’re a natural.”
Sam shakes his head. “Nah, Riley was a natural. Took to the skies like a duck to water.” Sam can still hear the excitement in Riley’s voice after his first jump. How he could barely catch his breath to talk because all he wanted to do was laugh and grin.
“Went back to my C.O. Told him thanks for the recommendation but… I couldn’t do it. He fed me this bullshit story about how some scientist somewhere had done some experiment, right? That they gave a group of people some glasses that flipped the world upside down.” Sam looks up at Bucky to find him staring back at him, blank look retreating, intense blue eyes focussed.
“The first two days everyone was walking around bumping into things, begging to be let out of the experiment, but by the end of the third day, they had all adapted. Their world was normal again. He told me to give it three days, and I did.”
Bucky purses his lips and looks away, letting the meaning of the words sink in.“You realise you’d already been there for more than three days, right? You said it was the end of the first week.”
Sam huffs out a tired laugh. “Man, do you ever get tired of being a pain in the ass?” he asks.
Bucky slips into that small, sad smile he wears so well. “All signs point to no,” he mutters back.
“It’s been a long fucking month, Buck. I’m not saying you’re wrong or you’re right, but… just give yourself a moment to adapt to your new normal before you go making any drastic decisions.”
Bucky doesn’t respond for a while, but then he nods slowly, still refusing to look at Sam.
“And honestly, Buck, no jokes this time. Whatever happens, I’ll still be here. You don’t have to be alone.” Sam says as clearly as he can.
Bucky finally looks back over to him. “Guess Steve was right leaving me to you.”
It’s Sam’s turn to look away, laughing. “Nah. He left us to each other,” he replies easily.
“We’re probably giving the punk too much credit. Like he ever thought ahead in his whole stupid life… but… the same goes for you, you know. I’ll be here as long as you need me, for whatever that counts as.” Bucky says.
Sam looks up at him, their eyes meeting and he can’t help but smile, relaxing the tension a little. “So you love her, huh? You realise she’s just a less pretty version of me. This is tantamount to you declaring your undying love of me.”
Bucky lets out an honest to God laugh. “You ever get tired of being so in love with yourself?” he fires back.
Sam shrugs, pushing himself up off the ground and reaching a hand out for Bucky. He looks at it a moment before he grabs on and Sam pulls him to his feet, wrapping one hand around his shoulder and leading him back to the couch.
“Well honestly, someone has to be.” Sam jokes.
Bucky laughs again
#bucky x sarah#bucky x sarah fic#fleur de louve#barah#sam wilson#bucky barnes#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfatws fic#rebellwrites
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Hello,
I just recently got into the Old Republic Fandom, and the Eternal Empire is my favorite arc. I do wish there was more story content to give more development to the characters, particularly in Arcann's case. While I love his romance scenes, I wish there were more scenes about his redemption and relationship with the Outlander or a dark side ending where the Outlander or Arcann takes the throne with the other as a consort. I found your blog while trying to find content further developing his character. Thank you so much for posting all your headcanons and musings!
With that being said, what are your headcanons for Zakuul culture? And could you post a masterpost compilation of your Arcann headcanons? I am trying to find the post where the romance novels headcanon originated in the tags and not having much luck.
Hope you have a nice day!
Hi anon!! Sorry for a late reply. First I’ll answer the second part of your message. The romance holonovels headcanon originated from the this post ; the post doesn’t outright say it, but some people in the tags (when they reblogged it) mentioned that Arcann probably seemed like the type to read romance in his free time. As of what I can remember the tags were from this reblog and this other reblog and both say that Arcann reads romance holonovels. The continuation of this headcanon were in replies or tags, so it’s hard to track them all down! Secondly, my Arcann tag is a mess, and I probably threw in multiple headcanons in reblogs or tags so it would be hard to find them all... I’ll think about making a masterpost, but I don’t think I have time for something like that right now. Ok, now that’s over with...
I 100% agree with you, anon! I HAVE so many things to say about the possibility about that dark side ending. I don’t think devs were planning to make Arcann a possible romance option in the beginning, so it wouldn’t have been possible to be his LI and rule as emperor/empress. I also agree with the development of the characters... however, Arcann’s redemption and relationship with the Outlander was definitely rushed, because the plans to make a third expansion was apparently cancelled due to the backlash from fans who wanted pub vs. imp back. I made a whole post complaining about that... Otherwise, I definitely think they would have had more time to flesh out his characters and the other Zakuulan characters as well (Vaylin, Senya, Koth, etc.). I’m like pretty much sure content was cut out from KOTFE/KOTET to make them shorter. Due to such lost content, I have to create my headcanons from extrapolation based on the Sacrifice trailer, available codex entries, existing dialogue, and implications of existing issues. As well as other people’s hcs and commentary!!
WARNING: SUPER LONG BULLET POINTS for Zakuulan culture headcanons.
The reason why I don’t have that many Zakuulan culture headcanons is because.... I feel like it’s so weirdly explored in the expansions.
I think the arts is a big thing in Zakuul! The Dragon’s Maw chapter gave me that kind of vibe. I also discussed this mildly (not) with Arcann. Most specifically THEATRE, PERFORMANCE AND SINGING.
Evidence: Senya sings and composes and there’s the famous Zakuulan holoperformer, Malita Tal. No, I don’t have evidence for theatre, but honestly? Zakuulans are so goddamn dramatic, they most definitely have reality TV series or drama series...
arcann be like oh you listen to malita tal? name all of her albums in alphabetical order or you get exiled
Zakuulan culture most definitely has idol culture, based on Malita Tal (and reportedly her performances were watched by millions). And those fans apparently also protested against Arcann’s rule. personally i think if they had twitter the u.s. gov*rnment would be wiped out.
I just think singing is a big thing in Zakuulan culture. I mean, even Valkorion sings (if you decide to kill Senya, his force ghost appears. They both have an exchange and it’s actually sweet for like 0.1 second).
I also think there would be typical Zakuulan fairytales embedded in the culture. Hear me out. Most specifically those type of royal fairytales with the princes and princesses. This can be heavily contributed to the fact that a royal family is essentially in power.
You cannot expect me to believe not a single person in Zakuul has written a Prince Arcann x reader holofic. You just can’t. Or Prince Thexan. Actually, I think Thexan would be more common, I think he was perceived to be more compassionate and kind compared to Arcann by the common folk? Since I know there’s that NPC dialogue where one of them goes how different it would be if Thexan took the throne instead.
The fairytales would probably involve a lot of references to the Old Gods. I kinda imagine that the enemy would be some sort of serpent, that is, Zildrog, because apparently he’s just a bedtime story to scare children away.
I think these Zakuulan fairy tales would contribute to the theatre and performance, acting culture that Zakuul has.
Furthermore, I just think the Tirall kids probably read these fairytales as well. francis dont talk about arcann reading again
I want to talk about the Old Gods and that religion, which is one of my favorite things ever... probably because the Gods are machines. Superweapon machines... ok ill shut up
Even if Valkorion basically got rid of the religion, it’s clear that the religion is still incorporated into heavy talk in Zakuulan culture (e.g. eyes of Esne, heart of Scyva).
My headcanon is that there are sanctuaries or small secret churches (?) for those who want to worship the Old Gods. Obviously the Herald of Zildrogs who believe in the Old Way are a cult, so I think people would look for an alternative.
I think there would be great effort to hide these places, as it can get you exiled. Thus these would probably be located in the Old World, rather than in a more obvious position like the Spire.
The beliefs of the Old Ways isn’t exactly clear, they aren’t exactly touched upon, which is a shame. I think people would ask for help from each of these gods depending on what they want.
Those who ask for Izax’ guidance want to seek success, accomplishments, power, and glory.
Those who ask for Scyva’s guidance ask for her to guide souls peacefully to death (she is described as someone who weeps beside Zakuulans as they march towards Izax - basically death) , or ask for help/compassion from her. Maybe maternity as well? Or parental love?
Those who ask for Aivela (goddess of passion) want her to guide them with her passion (Aivela accompanies Tyth, who is kind of a god of war/warrior). I think there would also be romance related stuff as well. If someone asked for help regarding their love related issues, it would probably be from Aivela!
I’m not sure about Esne - but maybe in a similar sense, if someone is suffering with jealousy - in any situation, they would ask guidance from her. I don’t know where I read this but I think the “eyes of Esne” expression meant like having eyes of jealousy.
Nahut? I don’t think he was worshipped. “Nahut was considered to be gray, formless and cold, and was denied worship by all except his mother Scyva.” But regardless, I think he still had a role to play.
After the Outlander takes the throne, and Zakuul renounces their membership from the Eternal Alliance, I think people would be allowed to openly express their religious beliefs, that is, the Old Ways. Oh, personally I headcanon that they would build beautiful places of worship in the Spire with similar geometrical pyramid designs...!!
Yeah...I think that’s all I got! I’ll need to see how I can somehow make this post easily found, lol. This is quite a long list, and I have to emphasize that these are my headcanons! They are based on what I see and I just kind of fill in the gaps to fit my own stories. This took a while to write because I KNEW I had these headcanons, but they just didn’t appear at the time I saw this anon ask. Anyways, I’ll probably create more headcanons in the future. Also:
a dark side ending where the Outlander or Arcann takes the throne with the other as a consort
I have so many things to say about this. I know the game won’t permit it, because if you think about it, both the light side choice (Eternal Alliance) and the dark side choice (Eternal Empire) are happy endings for your characters anyways. They can continue as the “hero” or the “protagonist”, so I don’t think this route could ever be implemented. However, I think it would be absolutely interesting if throughout the gameplay, players are given a choice to flirt with Arcann. The Outlander and Arcann agree to get rid of Valkorion, but thats if the Outlander decides to betray the Alliance and joins Arcann instead. And should they join him, they have the choice to romance him... and I guess it’s a happy ending for you both :P Obviously this won’t happen, but maybe it will. I wouldn’t mind being the prince consort of Arcann lol idk! me and vaylin are gonna be besties and we’ll paint each others nails or something
Oh and have a nice day too anon...!!
#Anonymous#THIS IS A SUPER LONG POST AAAAAAAAAAAA#swtor#arcann#zakuul#kotfe#kotet#i need a special tag for this#zakuul hc
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Writing Challenge! (1)
So, I finally decided to start a writing challenge, it’s actually my first time creating one of these so bare with me please! Read ALL of the rules before entering. (These prompts are NOT for requesting my own fics, but may appear on several prompt lists in the future!)
Let’s start with how to enter:
Send me up to 3 characters and up to 3 prompts (DMs or askbox, MUST be off anon)
Put your most desired options first
Tell me if you’d like to use one prompt or two
Your url and the character you choose will be added next to the prompt(s) you chose
If you post early, you’re welcome to enter again!*
*you’ll only be able to have one entry at a time, you have to post your first one before re-entering
Post whenever you’re done! Don’t forget to tag me (@moonlit-imagines) , if I don’t interact within 24 hours, shoot me a message to make sure I’ve seen it!
They’ll be reblogged to @moonlit-ficrecs with my feedback!
Now to the rules:
First come, first serve!
Only write for characters from my fandom list (if you don’t see the one you want listed, you might still be able to use that one. just ask!)
Reader insert only, please!
Any POV (1st, 2nd, 3rd person)
Any type of fic, whether it be a gif imagine, one-shot, headcanon, whatever fits!
3 people per character
3 people per prompt
^None of your prompts can match someone elses with the same character
You can’t use the same character when you re-enter
Fluff, angst, familial/platonic, smut, AUs, etc. are all welcome!
There’s no set word count, do as much as your comfortable with!
Signups start: September 28, 2020
Signups end: October 9, 2020
Fics due: November 1, 2020 (or sooner!)
Prompts below!
(Note that if you feel the need, you can alter the prompt slightly for the correct pronouns, add names/nicknames, change it the past/present/future tense, or fix it so it fits a character’s accent!)
“You thought you could get away with this?” - (@emcon-imagines//Wanda Maximoff)
“I won’t let them hurt you.”
“Call me when you get home.” - (@unnuevosoltransformalarealidad//Tony Stark)
“Are you even trying?” - (@imaginesbymk//Edward Nygma)
“Can we get something to eat?” - (@writerdream22//Joey Tribbiani)
“Give me a kiss, please and thank you. I’m serious.” - (@alwritey-aphrodite//Diego Hargreeves) EXT.
“That’s my s/o. I would die without them.”
“Look at/talk to them that way one more time and I’ll break your nose.” - (@frostedimagines//Peter Parker)
“We’ll make it out of this, I promise.”
“I made you breakfast in bed!”
“Please come pick me up.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Can we go out tonight?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“You know where to find me.”
“If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”
“Oh, my god. That’s sick.”
“I’m begging you not to do this! Please don’t do it!”
“It’s late...we should probably head back.”
“Is that blood on your sweatshirt?”
“Do you love me? I have to know.” - (@locke-writes//Arthur Curry) EXT.
“Say ‘cheese!’”
“Are you done yet?”
“Let’s take a walk. Just you and me.” - (@myriadimagines//Robin Buckley)
“Don’t sit there and apologize like you mean it. We both know you’re full of it.” - (@ofthedewthesunlight//Peter Parker)
“Keep it down, they’re sleeping.”
“We really are the worst, aren’t we?”
“Can we pretend like that didn’t just happen?”
“I like you, alright? Is that such a crime?” - (@isaiahdurag//John Shelby) EXT.
“You make me crazy.”
“I can’t keep running from my problems and neither should you.”
“You seem happy, what’s up?”
“Cry me a goddamn river.” - (@ofthedewthesunlight//Peter Parker)
“Where did they go?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, they’re gone.”
“I could paint/photograph you, if you’d like.”
“Look me in the eye and say it! Say it!”
“We aren’t made for each other, you know that.” - (@thereagles//Betty Cooper)
“Lay with me. Just for a minute.” - (@dannyboy-writes//Thomas Shelby)
“Does that feel good?”
“Dude, if you say that one more time, I’m going to give you a black eye.”
“Remember what I told you: crotch, ribs, nose. In that order.” - (@frostedimagines//Peter Parker)
“What’s that noise?” - (@dannyboy-writes//Octavia Blake)
“Make it stop.”
“You’re the one I’ve heard so much about!”
“Bring it in, you need a hug.”
“Nobody talks to you that way, got it?” - (@unnuevosoltransformalarealidad//Tony Stark)
“I like your poster. Interesting pick.”
“No, I did not get any sleep last night.” - (@dannyboy-writes//Raven Reyes)
“That’s absolutely none of your business.”
“I’m hanging up now, goodbye.”
“You are the most perfect person on this planet, I swear.”
“I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
“Look at what I just posted.”
“You have got to listen to this song, it reminds me of you.”
“Dear, God! What have you done?”
“We make a pretty good pair, you and me. We should try this more often.”
“I know this isn’t your dream or anything, to end up with someone like me, but I hope you know that I’ll love you more than anybody else could.”
“I’m not one for sweet, sweet romance, so I’ll be getting straight to the point: will you go out with me?”
“I don’t know who you are anymore. You need to leave. Now.”
“You’re what’s getting in the way of my happiness.”
“I don’t believe for a second that we’re not meant to be together.” - (@thereagles//Diego Hargreeves)
“Where did you learn to do that? Can you teach me?”
“I’m sorry that I hurt you, but I’m begging you to forgive me.”
“Don’t you see? It’ll never be that easy.” - (@dannyboy-writes//Qi’ra)
“I’d like to do something spontaneous. Let’s get out of here.”
“They’re out of town, won’t be back for a while...” - (@alwritey-aphrodite//Diego Hargreeves) EXT.
“Do you even hear yourself?”
“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“Is that the best you can do?”
“You can’t just fight anyone that upsets you.”
“Is that for me?”
“I got you a present! And it’s expensive!”
“Turn on the lights, I want to see you.”
“You’re all that’s on my mind.”
“I wish we could do this every day.”
“That’s what friends are for.” - (@wolfish-willow//Steve Harrington)
“We’ve got to do this more often.”
“I literally don’t think I could live without you.” - (@vansmaybeonthewall//Cal Kestis) EXT.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Please don’t ever let me go.”
“Wow. You look nice...”
“Fuck’s sake, you again?”
“Play a song for me.”
“Just checking on you, you sure you’re okay?”
“Wanna go for a ride?”
“Keep going, it’s just a little farther.”
“You can’t get everything you want. Give it up before you get yourself hurt.”
“We make a really good team.”
“You’re not acting like yourself.”
“It’s time to overcome our differences.”
“Put the baseball bat down!”
“They are so badass. I think I may be in love.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? Stop using your powers for that!”
“Look at the big picture here. At least we’re together again.”
“My parents said I have to be home by nine.”
“That is a lot of candles.”
“Someone got dressed up tonight, what’s the occasion?”
“Oh, my god. Did you change your hair again?”
“I found your diary...no, I didn’t read it.”
“I told you not to mess with my knives. I know they’re cool, but hands off.”
“Can I get a round of applause? “
“I will never be like you.”
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“Five minutes, that’s all I ask.”
“You remind me of the stars.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re beautiful.” - (@vansmaybeonthewall//Cal Kestis) EXT.
“What was that noise?”
“Put the mug down! No, not like that!”
“I won’t leave them behind. I will never leave them behind.”
“Who the hell let you in here?”
“You used to play [game]?”
“Let’s get a round for the table.”
“I got you a blanket and a pillow, make yourself comfortable.”
“Nothing will ever be the same.”
“Let’s get out of here. They’re not worth our time.”
“I really like your accent, what is that?”
“You’ve always taken care of me. It’s time to let go.”
“Woah, you made this yourself?”
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
“You keep a picture of me in your wallet?”
“Call me that again. I just wanna hear it one more time.”
“You just never stop flirting, do you?”
“Do I smell cookies? You know me so well.”
“I would never, ever give up on you.”
“I hate seeing you cry. I just want everything to be okay.” - (@emcon-imagines//Wanda Maximoff)
Submission Masterlist
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I just finished some movies and this idea came in my head. Could you do headcanons for shouto, bakugou and aizawa about their long-time best friend (and crush) panicking and seeking for the bois help bc she suspects that she might pragnant w/ her ex baby. Like, she already brought pregnancy test but too scared to use, panicked and nervous and nearly break down. The result is up to you.
warnings: pregnancy, mentions of abortion, and fluff
huehuehuehue this is so stupid cute and like heart wrenching to imagine this happening irl, I love IT !!!!! anyways remember ladies, if you’re preggo with an ex and have a hot as hell best friend you’re ready to bone you’re gonna be in one hell of a decision to make. all three have different outcomes tho!!!! I hope you enjoy anon!!!
Aizawa Shouta:
when you texted Aizawa forty-seven minutes ago completely freaking and flipping out Aizawa knew something was wrong
the two of you had been best friends since the beginning of high school, you had been the top student in your support class and you were very intermingled with the hero class because of that fact
you were the one who designed Aizawa’s bandages after all
so when you sent a whole lot of panicking texts, Aizawa watched your location to see that you were in a store running around and was currently making a b line to his apartment but you still weren’t answering him back
what the hell had gotten into you
he had opened the door to let you in seconds before you had arrived and he saw an opaque shopping bag being clutched in your hand
“y/n/n, are you okay??”
did Aizawa mention that he had been in love with you for the past seven years?
Aizawa could only watch as tears burst into your eyes and you throw yourself into his shoulder, quiet sobs escape your lips as he holds you closely whispering sweet nothings to your crying figure
“shouta… I think I’m pregnant but I-I’m terrified of taking the test.” you eventually murmur as you show him the two different pregnancy tests in the bag and Aizawa’s heart sort of drops, “I haven’t had a period in four months and I had sex for the last time around four months ago…”
your ex-bf wasn’t the nicest person, it wasn’t that he was abusive or anything, but he was very much wrapped up in his own life and career that Aizawa knew perfectly well he wouldn’t want anything to do with you or the baby if you were pregnant
“I don’t want to be pregnant with his baby…” you cry as you clutch your hair shaking your head as you are unable to think of a life where you were pregnant with a man you didn’t love baby
“Hey, hey,” Aizawa’s voice interrupts your mental spiral as he grabs your hands taking them away from your hair that was now crumply and looking ready to break “you don’t know if you are pregnant yet, y/n. let’s get you some water and you’ll take those tests okay?”
you listen in almost a haze as Aizawa explains what’s going to happen but then he shakes you and stares deeply into your eyes
“I love you, y/n, and I will support you no matter what happens. if you’re not pregnant that’s great, if you are and you decide to abort that’s perfectly okay too. if you choose to have this baby, I will support you and the baby because you mean the world to me and I won’t let you carry on in this world without me.”
you sob into his shoulder as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head and you stay there sniffling and breaking out into tears every couple of minutes
when you finally calm down you guzzle down two water bottles and taking the two tests with you entered the bathroom with an overwhelming fear of what was going to be the result
Aizawa watches as you exit the bathroom while looking down at the pregnancy tests, and your eyes are watering
“I-I’m pregnant.” you whisper and Aizawa stands up and holds your stiff body to him until you relax
“what are you going to do?” Aizawa asks genuinely interested in what his best friend was going to choose
“you know I can’t accept you helping me out with the baby as just my best friend…” you whisper and Aizawa can’t help the disappointment travel through his veins at that statement, “only if you agree to go out on a date with you will I let you help support this—our baby.”
and in nine months, after you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl you were currently walking down the aisle to be wed to none other than the man you’ve loved since high school and has always been there through thick and thin: Aizawa
Bakugou Katsuki:
“what the fuck are you doing here so goddamn late at night, are you an idiot?” bakugou snaps as you were pounding away at his door at three in the morning
“I needed to see you, and besides you said I was welcomed whenever I needed to come!” you snap back, your voice cracking a few octaves at the end which causes bakugou to stop his attitude at least on the inner surface as he stares at your emotionless face through the soft dim of the hallway lamp
“y/n/n?” bakugou begins as he sees the dried tear trails down your face, the pinkness to your nose and eyes, and the pregnancy test clutched to your chest “whoa, what the living fuck is—“
“bakugou… please shut up,” you interrupt him extremely unsure of what you were doing. “will you just hold me for a few minutes because I’m about to flip out and you’re the only person on this planet who’s able to ground me right now.”
bakugou rolls his eyes as he takes a single hand from being shoved into the pockets of his sweats and holds close to him, “you’re dramatic…” he scoffs but won’t admit that he feels exactly the same and he hoped that those pregnancy tests were for someone else, not you
it takes a few minutes, but soon you’re in Bakugou’s room sitting on his bed as you explain slowly what’s going on
“I slept with y/exbf/n when he came to pick up his things and it was a mistake,” you admit as you hold a cup of tea in your hands, looking at the dyed water as you couldn’t bring yourself to drink it, “I took advantage of the fact he still had feelings for me because at the time I was just feeling lonely, and here I am… going to be finding out if I’m p-pregnant…”
“you’re a fucking idiot.” bakugou agrees as he stares at your teary-eyed figure as you played with your teabag, “I should’ve been there to kill his perverted ass for you anyways.”
you laugh as you take a sip from the tea nodding, “if only, maybe then I’d be pregnant with your baby instead of his…”
the two of you freeze and your face goes through every color possible as you shove the tea in his hands, “IMMA TAKE THE TEST NOW!” you cry out robotically running into the bathroom slamming the door shut behind you
bakugou couldn’t help the prideful smirk that formed on his face as he downed the rest of his tea
if he was putting a baby in you, you crying for help was not going to be your reaction
bakugou watches as you emerge from the bathroom, your body trembling as you read the positive test results
you were pregnant
as you feel yourself falling suddenly weak from overwhelming emotions and your knees give out
but bakugou catches you in his arm, reprimanding you for being careless and emotional when you had a baby in you
and he gently puts you back onto the bed as tears are streaming out of your eyes
“I can’t have this baby, kacchan…” you whisper mortified st the thought of you being pregnant already, you were only twenty after all “I don’t have anything for it. The money, the time, the responsibility–”
“do you even want the damn baby?” Bakugou interrupts your train of thoughts and you freeze, did you?
“I know it’s not my baby, but I like you, y/n, a lot and if you want to keep the baby, I’ll help you keep the fucking bastard happy.”
you splutter out a wet laugh as you shake your head at your best friend, he was something else wasn’t he, “I could never ask you to do that for me…”
“you don’t have to, idiot, I’m the one fucking offering!” bakugou rolls his eyes as he pushes your head to lie on his shoulder
“I’ll support you no matter what.”
you’re quiet for a moment before you wrap your arms around him tightly, “what if I want an abortion?” you say quietly as his hand moves up and down your back almost awkwardly
soft bakugou is awkward, leave him alone
“then I’ll take you to the damn abortion clinic, and we’ll kill those fucking cells together.” bakugou says matter of factly and you laugh softly. “of course I think afterward you’ll have to let me have a chance at… what was it that you called it? being pregnant with my baby?”
“KACCHAN THAT’S TOO STRAIGHTFORWARD!” You fret covering your face embarrassed as Bakugou smiles pressing a kiss to your temple
“we’ll go tomorrow.” he decides and you peak at him through a gap in your finger
“w-where?”
“to the clinic and then afterward I’ll take you on a proper date because that shitty ex of yours was the absolute fucking worst.”
you snort softly as bakugou surprises you with a kiss on your lips
“now go the fuck to sleep or else imma kill you tomorrow.”
“yessir,” you whisper overwhelmed with emotions you never acknowledged about your best friend
Todoroki Shouto:
shouto was at home when he was sent a barrage of texts from you, asking where he was, if he was home, if he was available, and before he could answer a single message you were face-timing him
“shouto, where are you?!” you whisper as it seemed you were out in public by the extremely odd and close angle of your phone “I need you right now.”
“I’m at my houses dojo, I was working out.” shouto says and you frantically bob your head as you seem to turn completely and are now seemingly running. “what’s wrong?”
“I’ll explain when I’m there? is the rest of the todoroki clan there?” you ask looking into the camera and shouto shakes his head
“they’re all working.”
“Okay good, just have the door unlocked for me I’ll be there in five minutes.”
shouto frowned, unsure about what was happening. he knew it couldn’t have had anything to do with your now ex-boyfriend as you had finally broken up with him after months of shouto hoping, but never vocalized, you would
the two of you had been friends since the beginning of your lives and after so many years of being best friends, shouto discovered that he had feelings for his best friend while you were dating the other guy and it only made him want to kick his ass a few dozen times
shouto listened carefully from the dojo as he heard the front door hastily open and slam shut, and the frantic tossing of your shoes as your voice shouted out, “I’m here!”
maybe it was because it was over facetime and the audio was horrible, or your emotions dwindled southward while you ran here, but shouto could hear the anxiety in your voice
“I’m back here.” shouto called out as he peeked his head out the dojo and saw you walking over your jacket pocket looking bulgy
“I need you to hug me…” you whisper as you draw close, and shouto can see the tears in your eyes “please hug me.”
shouto envelopes you into a hug and the two of you stand there hugging tightly
“what happened?”
“promise me y-you won’t get mad…” you say feeling overwhelmingly ashamed
shouto stares at you, not convinced he could accept that but nodded nevertheless
“I-I think I’m pregnant…” you confess pulling out the pregnancy box from your pocket
shouto face darkens considerably as he turns on his heel ready to storm out
“SHOUTO!” you call as you’re running to keep up with him “you promised you wouldn’t get mad!”
“I’m not mad at you, y/n, I could never be. but I can and I will go beat the shit out of your stupid ex because he was always a goddamn asshole.”
“Todoroki!”
it’s the tears falling out of your eyes and the hands clasped onto his bicep that makes him stop in his track and he sighs pulling you in for another hug, “I’m sorry.”
you two make your way back into his room where you confess your fears if the tests come back positive what were you going to do?
you were still in high school, and your parents would disown you if you were pregnant
not to mention saying goodbye to your future career
“I’ve had the test for… four days now, and I barely worked up the courage to want to use it…” you mutter as you trace random figures onto shouto’s chest the two of you laying on his bed. “there’s a part of me that wants to know, and another that wants to refuse the fact that I need to know…”
“you know I’ll support you no matter what,” shouto says after a momentary silence, his hand that was holding your side to keep you near gently rubbing your side. “we can steal endeavors credit card to get you anything and everything you need.”
you snort gently, “oh yeah?”
“mhm, he wouldn’t mind anyway, it’s why he works so much.” shouto says knowing full well that was a lie but the laugh that leaves your lips is worth it
“I love you, shouto,” you whisper sounding petrified despite the usually warm phrase people used. “I don’t want you to hate me if I’m pregnant.”
“I could never, but you should go check now, y/n, it’s time.” shouto gently encourages you, and you nod standing up and taking the boxes with you. “and y/n?” you pause at the doorway, your face confused. “I love you, too.”
your face flushed as you slam the door behind you a little too harshly and the squeaky apology that followed left a smile on his face
shouto waits outside the bathroom door, sitting as minutes slowly go by
he watches as you emerge the bathroom with the tests in hand
“y/n?”
“I’m not pregnant!” you whisper as you feel overcome with every single emotion but above all happiness and joy for the two hued boy in front of you.
you launch yourself into his arms as relieved sobs leave your lips and as he sinks to the ground with you still securely in his arms you press a wet kiss to his lips
“thank you, t-thank you so much for everything.”
#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta x reader#aizawa shouta#aizawa headcanons#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki#bakugou headcanons#todoroki shoto x reader#todoroki x reader#todoroki shouto#todoroki headcanons#bnha writing blog#bnha#bnha x reader#bnha headcanons#mha#mha x reader#mha headcanons#bnha todoroki#bnha aizawa#bnha bakugou#mha todoroki#mha aizawa#mha bakugou
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Who are your favorite Adam writers for each character?
Anonymous said: Who are your favorite Adam writers?
..................
Hi, anons!
First off, I apologize for both the tardiness and the length of this post. Oops.
So, I’m going to out myself a bit on this. I’m… new here. New to “fandom” tumblr, new to fanfiction, new to all of it. I’d very actively disengaged from all social media in the past half-decade with the exception of some outdoor-related instagram shit. I knew fanfiction existed, like, ~as a concept~, but I had no idea it was actually ~out there~ until six months ago. As you might imagine, all this was a really fun discovery.
Most of the fanfic I’ve read is… Mandalorian reader-insert. Or Cassian. Or Poe. Or fic for one of the zillion different Star Wars ‘ships I like. Homies… I’m a nerd. I’m a big, big nerd. I also have a huge thing for Pedro Pascal. There are three particular writers in the SW and/or Pedro fandom I consider just… fucking phenomenal. I’ll happily give recs if that’s up your alley.
I haven’t been reading much recently—I’ve been working on longer fics and figuring out how to do this here web-bloggin’ thang—and I’ve honestly not read a lot of AD character fanfic in general (which is a cryin’ shame!). The two first Driver reader-insert blogs I ever followed were @driversmutbucket and @ohiobluetip back in mid-February. Needless to say, they’re both TOP-FUCKIN-TIER. Chef’s kiss. Whipped cream and sprinkles on top. Oh, and just to note, I blame @ohiobluetip and @kowalskibro-adamdriverblog for dragging me into this fanfiction mess.
With that as a precursor, here are some writer friends for you to scope out xo:
A pal recently recommended a few Sackler pieces by @thetorturerwrites which were an absolute fuckin’ treat to read. Their narrative voice is lucid, incisive, and nimbly-controlled—maintaining reaaally tight, evocative second-person throughout without ever becoming myopic. Seriously good shit, y’all.
I’ve been so charmed by @direnightshade’s kind-hearted and evocative prose. She writes well-defined, instantly-recognizable characters—including a wonderfully tender Charlie and a devilishly charismatic Flip.
@umbrielchip000 has been writing some delightful and inventive HCs for a wide smattering of characters that always leave me smiling. Always. Oh, and grade-A shitposting, too. 11/10.
My darling @ellelaconiwrites has a Charlie series in the works that’s made me sooo goddamn soft, and @okk--maaan is doing a whole CHARLIE WEEK right now! Are we spoiled, or are we spoiled?
My dear @ktellmeastory has written loads of filthy Sackler goodness, including a *whisper-scream* on-stage, mid-performance, sneaky-fuck oneshot (aaaah!). K is also a pioneer of Toby Grisoni filth. Bless her. If Girls left you craving a resolution to Sackler’s storyline, @hrh-selene-r has a great piece that picks up where Season 6 left off, too!
Despite my former rude comments about werewolf ballsack fur, I did just start reading resident monsterfucker @callmehopeless’s ‘Honeyed Eyes,’ and found werewolf Clyde absolutely heart-tickling. @ducktapewriting, @insatiable-ivy, and @kathorax are all Clyde darlings, too—check ‘em out!
@patersonn-kylo writes filthy, filthy, (often) hurt/comfort-oriented ficlets that make me scratch my head and wonder ~how can somefing be so tender and so dirty at same time!?!? how possibel?!~. I’ve also been enjoying @ohdamnadam’s engaging, sexy HCs.
Until very recently, I’d not seen fanfic for Ronnie, Dan, or Rick. I absolutely don’t mean it wasn’t out there—I just hadn’t come across in my limited experience! I am SO, SO BEYOND PSYCHED that these characters are getting more action (lolz, pun sorta intended) recently, and it’s a blast to see the different characterizations writers have for them—including many of the aforementioned authors. I know I’ve not been the best with keeping up on messages/comments recently, but do feel free to @ me with any Ronnie/Dan/Rick content! It truly makes my day when I see it *snuffles* <3
By now, you all likely know I don’t write for Paterson, and it’s not a function of disliking his character—quite the opposite. Mistress G (@ohiobluetip) writes a soft, sweet, kinky, dirty, desperate, darling switch!Paterson so deliciously that I… I simply have no fantasies left unfulfilled to write. It just checks every fucking box for me. I feel like I’m getting custom smut every time she posts; it’s ridiculous. I’m sure you follow her, but if you don’t… Who am I kidding. You follow her Also, PAPI GARUPE? AND DADDY/PROF ZACHARY ADAMS? *screech*
I’ve been seeing oodles more written for Sevier recently, which is so goddamn fun! In particular, I appreciated @umbrielchip000’s thoughtful and refreshing characterization of ace!Sevier.
I’ve given some Kylo/Ben recs before which you can find here, including my lovely friend @noodlecupcakeswritings.
There’s so much clever, sexy writing out there… and there are so many passionate, hardworking creators making it all available for readers. I feel I’ve barely scratched the surface. If you’re a writer, your efforts are so appreciated! xoxoxo
#ask catch up#about jynzandtonic#author recs#I am real sorry this is so late and also I think I followed about 200 people total when I got this ask and most of those were starwarz blogs#lolololol am nerd#am bad at interweb#am sorry#am happy you are here and my friend
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Do you have any headcanons for Bucky? Sorry I don’t have any specific situation or anything. On a complete side note, your writing is amazing and Release the Hounds is truly a work of art. Thank you for sharing your talent with us all!
Thank you so much hun that means so much! I’m so glad you’re enjoying it! I am here to entertain. I always have head anons for Bucky! I’m going to go through and make a master list for them too soon dont worry! But here’s a lil something something just for you
You wanna know how you found out Bucky had feelings for you? WELL IM HERE TO TELL YOU and it was not the most elegant thing in the world but neither is Bucky Barnes.
It was just a normal night, you were playing Skip-Bo with Natasha, Steve and Sam and it’s a fun yet slightly competitive time.
It’s not a game of tactics and there’s mindless chatter while everyone takes their turn. Sam is taking his while Nat and Steve discuss a show they were watching earlier. Your phone buzzes on your lap as you’re sitting cross legged at the coffee table and it’s a text from Bucky
‘Apparently they’re (leather jackets) a chick magnet according to Sam’ you chuckled under your breath and lay down on on the ground as you typed out a message ‘I wouldn’t follow Sam’s advice on how to pick up girls 😆 although add a motorbike to the mix and you’ll get any girl’
You stayed lying on the floor, out of view from the either entrance into the living room, it’s weirdly comfortable on the floor. When all of a sudden the door opens and a voice is shouting across the couch
“I DONT WANT ANY GIRL I WANT HER!” The game is paused and you furrow you’re brows but don’t poke your head up because that voice is Bucky and you might be VERY curious as to who this her person is. He doesn’t even give space for anyone to answer as he keeps going “I TELL HER apparently leather jackets will get girls as a way to ask whether it’ll get her and she has the AUDACITY to say aDd A mOtOrCyClE yOuLl GeT aNy GiRl! I DONT WANT ANY GIRL I WANT YOU DAMMIT” and then the door slams shut and he walks out again
You poke your head up over the coffee table and Bucky is nowhere to be seen and the door is shut. Steve is sitting in shock while Sam is doubled over in laughter and Natasha is trying not to burst out laughing. “What was that about?” Steve asks and all eyes turn to you because of course they’re all WELL aware who Bucky is referring to
“Hey guys I think he was talking about me?” There’s more laughter, the other two have lost it and you look at your phone and there’s another message from Bucky ‘you into guys on motorbikes then?’ And your reply is fast than you want to admit ‘only if they’re wearing leather jackets 😉’
The door burst open again and Sam is drying his tears while Natasha and Steve are still trying to catch their breathing.
“ON SECOND THOUGHT-uh” He stares at you like a deer in headlights and you give him a sweet smile but Bucky, goddamn love that man, he walks out of the room. Just straight up turns around and walks out, closing the door behind him.
You’re dumbstruck now, Steve is bent over clutching his stomach and hitting the floor with his hand. Natasha is sprewled over the couch losing her shit. Sam has can’t actually breath and hes pretty happy knowing this is how he’s going to die.
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Could you write a quarantine Malex fic? Because being actually quarantined is driving me crazy
I got you anon! Here’s 3k of fluff for you!
warning: mentions of alcohol abuse
ao3
“Move.”
Alex did as he was told, confusion all over his face as Micahel came in with two arms full of grocery bags. The door telekinetically slammed behind him and Alex followed him to the kitchen where he dropped everything on the counter so he could put everything up.
After watching Michael spiral for a few weeks too long, Alex had made a deal with him. He would let Alex help him get sober and get through the hard times and then that would be it. Alex would leave him alone forever. That was the deal. That deal didn’t include grocery shopping.
“So, um, what’s going on?” he asked.
“We’re quarantining,” Michael said right back.
“Excuse me?”
“There’s a virus going around,” Michael answered. That didn’t get rid of Alex’s confusion.
“Yeah, I know. That doesn’t explain why you’re here with groceries and,” he paused to peak into one bag, “Cleaning supplies.”
“If you get it, it’ll make it a million times harder for you to get around because it’ll be harder for you to breathe. And that’s best-case scenario. So, instead of risking it, I’m keeping you here until it’s over,” Michael decided. Alex still stared at him in confusion.
“You can’t keep me here.”
“Uh, sure I can. You can work from home and, since I can’t get sick, I’ll do all your grocery shopping. You just have to put up with me for the next couple weeks,” Michael said, flashing a smile, “We can clean today.”
Alex scoffed, “This is weird. Even for you, Guerin.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, you’re helping me out by making sure I stay sober, so I’ll help you out by making sure you don’t get sick,” he said.
“So, what, you’re just gonna stay here?”
“Yeah, to keep you company,” Micahel said.
Alex didn’t know how to respond to that. It was so weird to see him like this. Sure, Alex had gotten little tastes since they agreement, but this was... This was Micahel all but moving in with him. This was what he wanted so bad under circumstances he hated.
“You don’t... You don’t have to do this, you know? Don’t feel obligated to, like, chill with me during the plague,” Alex said. Michael just shrugged again.
“I want to.”
-
“You’re tense.”
“I’m always tense.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
Alex heaved a sigh and looked up to where Michael was standing in the hallway. It reminded Alex of that deal they made. That deal was becoming harder each day when Michael kept blurring the lines.
Today, those lines were blurred by him taking a shower and putting on Alex’s clothes when he got out. For the first time ever, Alex’s clothes were baggy on him because he wasn’t taking care of himself and had gotten painfully thin. His hair was wet and messy, curls slowly forming as they dripped water droplets onto the collar of the AirForce pullover. He looked so soft and sweet that it made Alex’s head hurt.
“Did you dry the floor this time?” Alex asked, rubbing his forehead as an excuse not to keep looking at him.
“Yeah,” Michael answered, his feet padding against the floor as he walked closer. The sound hurt Alex in an unexplainable way. “Sorry about last time.”
“It’s okay.”
“Not really,” Michael said. Alex could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of his head. He’d gone in the bathroom to take a shower after Michael and found the floor covered in water. He’d slipped and hit his head on the counter when he tried to catch himself.
“I’m fine,” Alex reinforced. Michael was silent and still for a few seconds, so Alex started trying to focus on his work again. Except then the soft sounds of his feet started again and his heart ached a little more. Maybe this was a bad idea.
He zoned out of his work and into the sound of another person’s footsteps against his floor. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like if he didn’t live alone. He imagined that this was their house, their space. He imagined waking up in the middle of the night to hear him tinkering about on the porch or humming to himself two rooms away or making coffee in the kitchen. He didn’t realize how much he ached for that.
Except he did realize it. It just hurt to have only half of it.
Alex jumped when something warm touched his neck. He looked up to see Michael looking down at him with tired eyes, adjusting the heating pad to cover his shoulders.
“You’re tense,” Micahel repeated, “You kept rolling your shoulders.”
“I didn’t notice,” Alex said quietly, staring at him in confusion. What the fuck was he doing? Was he just trying to make things worse for Alex?
“I know, you never do,” Michael answered. He adjusted it one last time before walking away and collapsing on the large armchair. Alex watched with a heavy heart as he curled up, pulling the collar of Alex’s pullover over his nose.
How the hell was he supposed to focus with that in his face?
-
Alex woke up in his bed. Which wouldn’t have been confusing if he hadn’t fallen asleep on the couch.
He sat up and looked around, but nothing seemed to be too out of place. His blankets had been drawn back and covered him, his lights were out, his fan was on, his TV was softly playing reruns of The Office. It looked exactly like he’d brought himself to bed. But his crutches were leaned against his the nightstand with a little sticky note and he knew for a fact that he didn’t do that.
‘you fell asleep on the couch so put you in bed hope that’s okay MG’
Alex’s heart swelled in adoration as he sunk into his bed, involuntary tears springing to his eyes. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what about it had touched him so much. Was it the simple fact that he’d bothered to move him at all? Was it that he knew what kept him calmest when he slept? Was it that it was Michael in particular and he cared? He couldn’t be sure, so he considered that it was all three.
He searched for his phone and found it on the opposite bedside table and plugged into the charger which just made him feel that much more loved. He didn’t understand how they’d come to this. It was overwhelming at the very least.
Why did he have to be so perfect when he knew there was a time limit on it?
Alex: idk if you’re up and I don’t wanna wake you, so thanks. I would’ve really regretted not sleeping in a bed if it weren’t for you
Micahel: you got me, i got you
Alex folded his lips in and sunk right back into his bed, pulling his blanket over his head. For the first time in a long time, Alex smiled purely and unabashedly. He even flailed a little bit. He felt like a teenager again.
Leave it to Michael fucking Guerin to make him feel that way.
-
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Whatever you say, buckaroo.”
“Oh my God.”
Quarantine was a lot less fun five days in. Or, honestly, it might just be the fact that neither of them had ever shared space like this before. Most of their alone time only lasted a few hours. Now, though, they were truly getting a full living together experience. Apparently, that’s all Alex needed to get rid of that gooey, 17-again feeling Micahel gave him.
“Okay, listen, I’m going to go take a shower. When I get out, you are going to stop making buzzing noises while telekinetically flying your paper airplane into my head, do you understand?” Alex said sternly.
Michael raised a challenging eyebrow and, again, the airplane flew into the air, doing a few loops before pelting Alex square in the chest.
Alex heaved a heavy breath and glared at him, trying not to give in to the urge to scream at him. Instead, he swiftly turned around made his way towards the bathroom. He stepped inside, leaving his crutches right outside the door, and was thankful that Michael had picked up his towel and dried the floor. With a sigh, Alex turned on the shower and let it heat up as he sat down and started to undress.
As the steam began to fog up the room, words in Michael’s handwriting started appearing on the mirror.
fixed it
Alex snorted, letting a bit of his annoyance roll off his shoulders. He shook his head and rubbed his temples and tried to remember that, all in all, this was a good thing. He liked having Michael around more than he got on his nerves. They just really needed to work on getting their own, personal alone time. Maybe he could talk about that with him.
Strategically, Alex moved from his place on his stool to the bench in the shower. It had taken a lot of practice, but now he was able to do it like second nature. However, he was shocked to feel his shower actually have somewhat decent water pressure for once. He thought about the message on the mirror and smiled.
Maybe he could get used to this.
-
Alone time, Alex had said. Alone time, Michael had agreed.
And yet, even in the depths of the bunker while knowing Michael was cooking in the kitchen, he still managed to be interrupted by that goddamn paper airplane. It flew around mindlessly and Alex was beginning to wonder if he was even doing it on purpose at the point or if it was just a way to let out some energy when they were confined.
The paper airplane had originally started as just a standard paper airplane. Now, three days later, it’d become some fucking replica of a fighter jet that was fully colored and decorated. Last time Alex had taken a good look at it, he noticed there was a little arrow pointing to the pilot that said ‘Alex’. He tried not to show how adorable he thought that was.
He couldn’t lie, though, he was really fucking proud of Michael. The entire time he’d been stuck inside with not much to do and he hadn’t even really seemed eager to drink. The couple times he did seem outwardly down, he was open to talking about it so he didn’t do something too bad. Alex appreciated that.
It made him think a little more each day that living together may not be a bad thing. Maybe, in the long run, it was a good thing.
“Alex, the plane means dinner!” Michael called. Foolishly, Alex grinned and shook his head, moving his laptop to the side before going to climb up the ladder. Michael was waiting for him when he reached the top. “Come eat.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”
With a little help, Alex got to his feet and they both headed for the kitchen to have dinner. Michael was becoming quite the connoisseur when it came to cooking, trying something a little more out there for each meal. Again, despite the annoyances, it was a pro to the reasons he liked living with him list.
“So, um, I’ve been thinking,” Michael said halfway through their meal, “Remember our deal?”
Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah.”
“Okay, so, you know how we said once I get better, you’d leave me alone?” Alex nodded slowly. “Well, right, so the thing about addiction is... I’m never really going to be better. It’s going to be something I struggle with for the rest of my life.”
Alex took a breath and tried not to get his hopes up. “Okay. So, what does that mean for our situation?”
“Uh, well, whenever we made that deal, I kinda just wanted to piss you off and hurt your feelings,” Micahel said, avoiding eye contact, “Sorry, by the way.”
“You were going through stuff.”
“Yeah. So, I think we can still hang out and stuff. Like, I don’t want you to leave me alone. Would you be okay with that?” Michael asked. Alex let out a soft breath and nodded, relaxing in his chair.
“Of course,” Alex said. Except Michael still was fidgeting like that wasn’t his only question. “What?”
“So, uh, different time I was trying to piss you off, I said we were bad and I wanted to be good for someone,” Michael pointed out. Now Alex actually held his breath. “I think I got that wrong too. I think I wanna... I want us to be good for each other. Is that okay?”
Alex swallowed hard and bit back a smile, nodding his head. This felt fake. Honestly, it probably was fake. No way he got so many good things happening during a fucking plague.
“Yeah, yes, I want that too,” Alex said, “I think we are. I mean, we’ve been doing good at communicating. It feels good.”
Michael finally looked up to him, grinning a bit as he did so. Alex fell a little more in love if that was even possible. He was tempted to kiss him, tempted to admit that he never stopped loving him, tempted to do a lot of things. Instead, he waited.
“Great,” Michael said, biting on his bottom lip, “So you’re not fed up with me and ready to kick me out?”
Alex laughed softly, “No, not yet. Even when you’re annoying, I still like having you around.”
“Oh, thank God, me too,” Michael laughed. They stared at each other for a moment, smiling until it got weird. It took a minute for it to get weird. “So, um, maybe we can go on a date?”
“You think we can go places? I thought you were scared I was going to get sick,” Alex pointed out. Michael rolled his eyes.
“I was thinking maybe going for a walk in the woods, just me ‘n you tomorrow.”
Alex chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment to try and taper his excitement before he nodded.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
-
“No offense, but I’m getting really fucking tired of being stuck with nothing to do.”
“None taken.”
Alex groaned dramatically as he dragged himself to his room again. They still had at least another week and, honestly, Alex felt like it was only going to get longer. Or, at least feel longer. As much as he liked having Micahel in his the house and around, he also was craving some sense of normalcy.
Which, in itself felt insane. When had his life ever truly been normal?
“I’m running out of things to do,” Michael said from the bathroom connected to Alex’s room. The door was open and he was massaging curl cream into his hair. It was something so small, but Alex loved seeing it. Moments like that were one of the few things keeping him sane.
“Me too.”
“Well, you know,” Michael started, a smirk on his face even though Alex couldn't see it, “We could-”
“No, we’re being good,” Alex laughed as he sat down on his bed. Though the thought had crept into his mind more than a few things. However, he was determined to try and keep whatever bit of normalcy he could obtain. If that meant still taking this thing with Michael step by step, he was going to do it.
“I know, I know. I’m just... I’m ready for something to change, you know? Not between us, just in general. I’m in a rut, it’s kinda fucking with my head,” he admitted. Alex let himself get serious and he watched Michael a little more closely.
“Do you need to talk about it?” he asked. Micahel shrugged.
“I feel like there’s nothing to talk about. I just got used to having a distraction, I guess, and I’m running out of them.”
“I understand. Not in exactly the same way, but I do,” Alex told him. Michael took a deep breath and stared at himself in the mirror for a moment.
In the few weeks he’d been staying there, Alex had been able to watch him put on some weight again. He looked a whole lot better and that felt good. Amongst all the bullshit in the world, there were always silver linings.
“How about this,” Alex said, “You can stay in here with me tonight. Nothing questionable, but we’re still mixing it up.”
Michael looked over at him with a sweet little smile. “Yeah?”
“I got you, you got me, right?” Alex asked. Micahel visibly relaxed and nodded.
Alex scooted closer to the wall to make space for another body in his bed. Michael was hesitant to come closer, shutting off all the lights and turning on the fan as well as putting The Office on before even coming close. He crawled onto the bed and, instead of laying in the open space left for him, placed himself right in the 4-inch gap between Alex and the wall.
“Oh, okay,” Alex mused, reveling in the sound of Michael’s unabashed laughter.
He wrapped his arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze. Michael buried his face in the crook of his neck, cuddling up to him in a way he didn’t think either of them had had in a while. Even when Alex had tried other relationships, it always felt weird to cuddle up so tight with someone else. He had to assume that, from Michael’s behavior, he hadn’t really gotten that either.
“I missed this,” Michael whispered, nuzzling his nose against the stubble Alex had been growing on his jaw.
“Me too,” Alex said right back, “And, I promise, this whole quarantine thing isn’t forever. It’ll end, I promise.”
He could feel Michael breathing against his neck as he took in his words, accepting them as truth. He knew he needed to hear it. And, honestly, so did Alex. This wasn’t forever. It would end.
But feeling him so close to him again? That he could handle a forever of.
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obsessed with ur blog really. i was sad but also happy but also sad after the race and seeing ur sebchal posts really made me feel better ❤ the way they talk about each other is soo 💔 i wish i could give them a hug (or better yet, they should give each other a hug! like in Bahrain!) anyway can't believe u're singlehandedly spreading the sebchal gospel in this site! bless. we gotta make the most of the time we got left. *banging pots and pans* sebchal nation rise!!! manifesting double podium!!!✨
Ahh, thank you sweet anon! 🥺🙏🏻 It is my self-imposed mission to spread the Sebchal gospel ✨ And messages like this only encourage me to be even more feral in said gospel-spreading <3
Honestly this has been...a day. I’m also very conflicted because, gosh, Seb’s start? Masterclass. I was yelling at him at get on that podium throughout the entire race. Obviously I can’t bring myself to resent the end result - he deserved it so much, and I think anyone could tell you that. But then... oh... Tentatively, the possibility of a Sebchal Ferrari podium arose and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I could see it so clearly. Most of the “oh, imagine Ferrari on the podium” posts seemed far-fetched and naïve...up until then. And suddenly it was within reach. And then the clusterfuck that was the final lap... For a moment I hadn’t even realised what had happened because the cameras were already focused on Lewis crossing the line. I just saw Charles, unbelievably, in P2 for just a second and then everything went to shit.
I wasn’t even that upset at Charles missing out on P3... until I heard his radio message. And fuck, that cut my heart up into little pieces because this boy, this impossible, brilliant, amazing boy? He drove a fantastic race today. And god it hurts me so much to see so much anger and self-loathing from him. He deserves kindness and tenderness and I hope, sincerely hope he has a solid support network behind him, someone who can give him that.
Also, yes, I’m already writing hurt/comfort fic, what about it
LISTEN. IF WE ALL HAVE FAITH. Miracles can happen okay? Bahrain feels like a write-off, honestly, but who the hell knows? Before the weekend they said that Turkey, on paper, looks like it’s going to be a disaster for them, and yet here we are. Yes, new asphalt, yes they’ve trained for driving with no grip all season long with the goddamn SF1000 being as unstable as it is, and yes they generally perform better in lower temperatures, the rain threw everyone for a loop and they capitalized on that, etc. I know. But I still choose to have faith, because fuck. I need that so much. I think we all do. One final Ferrari hurrah, the Redemption Arc, completed. Started from the bottom now we’re here.
Also I’m seriously considering starting a GoFundMe to get Binotto sacked, who’s with me? I’ll start by contributing *turns pockets inside out* *shakes wallet* €5. But together... together we can achieve great things ✌🏻 For legal purposes this is a joke
#replies#anonymous#sebchal anon#ALSO the race was on quite early for me (10am) so this contributed to my overall confusion#the race ended around the time it usually would've finished and then i just sat there staring blankly at my own two hands like what now?#time is a social construct
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Angst then comfort?
I, uh, decided to go heavy with the angst. This is sort of a “What if?” take on Closing the Loop, which features Toshinori breaking the universe to save Nana. I got a comment asserting that Toshinori definitely tried a loop on his own, and, well... anon, you provided me with a good excuse to write it!
//
When Toshinori throws everything into a punch to save himself and Gran Torino, he is thinking, ‘I want to save everyone! I want to go back to when we were happy, and safe, and—!’ One for All sparks through his veins, a fiery if muted resolve that lets Toshinori break space and time.
He guesses even One for All has its limits. Toshinori would have liked to have landed before All for One murdered Shimura Sakumo and made oshishou look sad and drained, dissatisfied with all her shortcomings when she encouraged him to review, accept, and move past his. But it’s better to land in the middle of dinner than, say, in media res on the boat to Ekusegoru.
This time-loop thing bites. The trope seems so cliche in media. The set of conditions to end it, simple.
Toshinori sees All for One shove his hand through Gran Torino’s chest, the viscera clinging to the neatly-pressed black sleeve of his blazer and his pointed fingers, and has the very distant thought that he’s responsible for it. If he’d been smarter, he could’ve remembered where the hostage was when asked, and then Gran Torino would not be dead, and oshishou would not be screaming her terror and loss and fury—
One for All resets. Gran Torino is whole again, and so is oshishou, who is running a loop behind.
Toshinori is trying to think logically, like how Gran Torino taught him to be. It makes sense to warn oshishou of their mistakes; it makes sense that somewhere in the universe, there is a way that leads Toshinori to saving both of his mentors.
Oshishou wrestles with Gran Torino. She is not taking the spar seriously, and Gran Torino is clearly indulging her need to expend the nervous energy. Toshinori watches from the sidelines and wonders how two people in love can be so blind; sometimes, he wonders if his existence as oshishou’s successor prevents them from voicing it.
The boat. Ekusegoru. A swift, almost surgical strike to the heart of the empty city.
He snatches the hostage and leaps to the roof of a nearby building. He should get her back to the boat, post-haste, and add his strength to the fight. Maybe that’s what’s missing.
“Ma’am,” Toshinori says, distractedly, “you should brace yourself.”
“Wh—”
He’s not as fast as Gran Torino, and he lacks the ability to remove his considerable mass from the equation. So Toshinori jumps, kicks off the sides of buildings, ascends. He gains a vantage point that lets him see Gran Torino’s yellow cape streaming away from the center of the battle, and the concern blooms, malignant and malicious.
Toshinori changes directions to follow. Almost loses them for a bit, and then Toshinori wishes he had, because he’d rather have been ignorant than witness oshishou, sprawled broken against Gran Torino, the silvered head bowed with something like grief and resignation—
Toshinori screams. He doesn’t realize that the hostage has slipped her hand in his.
One for All resets. Oshishou is whole again, and Gran Torino looks so exhausted and fragile, hugging them both and breathing raggedly. Oshishou is just realizing the cause for their second loop, and Toshinori’s brain is whirling.
Logically, the loop is resetting after his mentors are dying. The solution is not their sacrifice.
One for All resets. The solution is not to eliminate All for One.
The solution is not to run away to oshishou’s place either, but Toshinori thinks the idea has merit. Gran Torino is burdening himself to solve this, and he needs time to recuperate. And if oshishou can connect to the spiritual nature of One for All, perhaps all she needs is time to really hash things out with the Quirk.
It provides him an opportunity to try another solution as well. He’s the consistent reason for their deaths, no matter that All for One wields the knife. Toshinori runs away, every single goddamn time, even though he’s the one who’s used One for All to break the world.
I want to save everyone, he had wished. A monumental effort that requires a monumental sacrifice.
Toshinori obediently moves from the couch to the spare bedroom oshishou had set aside for him. He hears her bedroom door click shut, and waits a breathless five minutes before getting to his feet. His bedroom window is just wide enough for him to wriggle out of, but first he needs his gear.
Gran Torino has tried to teach him how to sneak.
Sneaking is a lot easier with a fake excuse. Toshinori judges the distance from the kitchen to the front door, and hopes that oshishou is too distracted—ack, gross, gross, even if Gran Torino is unbelievably sweet and stupid—to think about his footsteps to the kitchen.
He roots around for a mug and switches on the kettle. Tensely, Toshinori waits for oshishou to peek out and double-check on him.
When that doesn’t happen, he darts for his gear. Boots and cape. His wrist bracers and belt are still on. Toshinori wraps his shoes in the fabric and lobs the package through his bedroom door onto his bed; it lands with a muffled thwmp.
Toshinori makes tea. He carries it carefully back, and sets it down on his desk. He listens for the soft murmuring of their conversation, and hears nothing. Not even a snore.
Time to go.
There aren’t any alternatives to reaching Ekusegoru. He’s only eighteen; he’s an intern to a nobody pair of pro-heroes; he doesn’t have money to hire some unsuspecting captain. So Toshinori puts on his brightest smile and charms the hell out of the crew.
“It’s only a recon,” he laughs. “Oshishou and Torino-sensei think I should get some experience with a solo patrol, y’know?”
The captain is visibly uncomfortable by the change. “All Might, are you absolutely sure that your teachers want you to do this alone? Maybe I should call the agency.”
“They’re preoccupied with something else,” Toshinori lies, smiling. “A really dangerous villain tried going for the archives and is trying to go underground, and they dispatched me to take care of this while they dealt with that.”
“Huh,” mutters the captain, tugging the brim of her cap. “They trust you a lot.”
“I’m top of my class.”
“Kids these days…”
And she takes him to Ekusegoru. Toshinori chafes his hands together and tries to think about a strategy. He can’t kill All for One. That resets the loop. At the same time, giving his oshishou’s greatest enemy—Japan’s greatest threat—One for All is definitely not on the table. Toshinori needs to die, and the best way to do that is to goad the bull.
If this doesn’t work, he tries to comfort himself, then the loop will simply reset, and his mentors will be none the wiser.
If this does work—well. Not like Toshinori will have to face the consequences anyway.
He enters the empty city, hyper-aware that he is walking into a trap without the certain possibility of a safety net. He sprints for the heart, channeling all his desperation and resolve, pulling on One for All in a way that burns.
The world looks sharper. It looks a little smaller. His suit stretches to the point of tearing a little. Toshinori doesn’t have time to gauge the differences; his body moves instinctively, and he slams into the warehouse shouting, “All for—!”
He freezes.
All for One looks at him coolly, with disinterest. The hostage is discarded on the floor, dead. Her wrists and ankles are untied; in the previous loops, she’d been forced to her knees, and the dread of disobeying her captor were all the restraints needed.
“The intern,” All for One names.
“All Might,” he corrects. Toshinori forces his feet into moving, forces himself to circle All for One instead of leaping directly to extract the body.
All for One doesn’t even turn to keep him in sight. “Shimura’s stray, ready for a fight that he shouldn’t even know about. Aren’t protocols for recon to check the perimeter and then investigate?”
Don’t freeze. Don’t stutter. Goad the bull and allow yourself to be gored by the horns.
“Even the blind could tell this was a trap,” Toshinori retorts. “Your reign of terror is over, All for One.”
“Oh? You know who I am?” All for One’s voice saddens, sweetens. “I knew the woman was a fool, but I hadn’t taken her to be cruel enough to force a child into this vendetta. You’re her successor, aren’t you? Number eight?”
Toshinori lunges at All for One’s back.
It’s a short fight. He gets curb-stomped, for lack of a better term, even though his body moves faster, endures better, hits harder. All for One is an opponent he hasn’t been prepared to face; oshishou prioritized running away and survival for him. For good fucking reason, apparently.
“You’re a hundred years too early to be challenging me,” the enemy chides. Toshinori can barely hear past the pain of being broken and bloodied and bruised.
“Asshole,” he curses.
“You know how this works. Give me One for All, and all this ends.” All for One’s grin is wide and manic with victory. His hand settles over Toshinori’s heart; Toshinori’s pulse is going rabbit-quick with fear. “I must thank Shimura before she dies. It’s always such a hassle, knowing the wielders’ luck in finding successors right before I can retrieve my Quirk.”
“It’s not yours,” Toshinori denies. It won’t be. I won’t. I won’t break.
“It was mine before you existed. Mine to give, and mine to take back.” All for One pulls out a pager. “Now, will you be a good hero and give me One for All, or shall I message Shimura that you’re my hostage? She’ll die for nothing, and I promise, I will make you watch her death.”
Goad the bull and allow yourself to be gored by its horns.
He wonders how much time has elapsed. Two hours total, for the boat to return to the mainland, get oshishou and Gran Torino, and come back. By then, the five hours allotted to them by the time-loop will have run out.
“Why are you such an asshole,” he says, wheezing.
“I’m righting the wrongs of the world. I need power to do it. Power, that comes from your stolen Quirk.” All for One presses the hand on Toshinori’s chest down, and something is creaking. Something is breaking. Unbidden, tears mix with sweat and grime and blood. “You understand. All Might. A man after my own philosophy.”
“No—”
“You want justice and equality. I’m going to provide that.”
“You monologue too much,” Toshinori spits, and All for One sighs.
“Well. We have time.” The pressure on his chest relents, and All for One backhands him—
One for All resets. Toshinori wakes to the scent of oden, savory and nauseating, and he understands now why Gran Torino is always moving violently after a loop. He should hide the trauma; he can’t unnecessarily burden them with the knowledge; he understands why Gran Torino didn’t want to tell oshishou.
He falls off the stool.
“All Might!” Oshishou immediately slips off her seat and kneels on the ground beside him, and the worry in her expression—Toshinori’s hyperventilating, burning with shame and terror, and he wants—
“Oshishou,” he sobs, gasping, and her cape falls over their heads, curtaining them off from the world. It’s the first time he’s been subject to the use, and he gets why oshishou wants to register the cape as a shock blanket. It’s very effective.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, you’re safe,” she says, soothing. “You’re okay, Toshinori.”
“Oshishou, I’m—I’m so sorry—I’m—”
He’s glad, in a way, that another loop has been triggered. It means that One for All is generous. It does not want anyone to die; it’s following his wish. One for All wants everyone to be saved, and is willing to reset time until they learn sacrifice is not the name of the game.
Toshinori hugs her, repeating his apologies. Her hug is firm, and gentle, and kind; she continues to reassure him, even though it must be increasingly awkward to break down in public like this.
Eventually, he collects himself. He can cry later. Probably in the office, as a defensive measure when Gran Torino inevitably wrangles the story out in the debrief.
Because Gran Torino will tell oshishou that they napped the last loop away. And no nap should result in Toshinori crying and having a panic attack. Therefore, he’s done something traumatic and he needs to tell them.
This needed to be tested though. Toshinori could never forgive himself for being too much of a coward not to try, and his mentors wouldn’t have given him permission.
(There’s an unspoken agreement, after, that the loop will be spent recovering. Five hours is not nearly enough time to gloss over the memory of All for One, but Toshinori is sandwiched between his mom and—and his dad—and even though Sorahiko seethed over Toshinori’s inherited ideals of martyrdom, Sorahiko was the one to call for a dogpile.
Of course, Sorahiko is a hypocrite who goes to confront All for One on his own. Oshishou is much smarter, if bitter, and she tells Toshinori, “I am going to talk to One for All, and I am going to figure out how to end this cycle.”
Toshinori feels hope rise, and he believes her.)
#bnha#yagi toshinori#all might#all for one#shimura nana#torino sorahiko#gran torino#shih.txt#asks#anon#closing the loophole!fic#tw violence#tw temp character death#man. i really let this guy survive the fic.
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For the vampire! AU, where the boys are the vampires, I can imagine Ona getting shot/injured while on a separate case, and the boys have to put aside their urges and bloodlust to get her to a doctor and tend to her. Which is EXTREMELY difficult because their senses are directly attuned to the presence of blood, hers specifically - Simon-Data Anon
Simon-Data anon, let me give you a box of chocolate boxes (if you dig that) as a thank you because my askbox has been BLESSED.
(I gotta reply you all but I’m trying! ;_; Lot’s of stuff and I wanna take my time to reply them well, you folks deserve it)
But please have this! :D I wrote it mostly half-asleep so there are probably mistakes and such. Sorry :_)
It was a stupidly simple case. Or at least, it should have been.
Ona should have seen the clues, the signals; that is her goddamn job. But instead, she led herself into the wolve’s den without backup.
The leads got her in a small and peaceful town, next to a deep forest that went on forever. There she searched for more clues, checked the ones she already had to make sure they were correct. She thought the trail went cold when suddenly one of the evidences they had lead her to the tiny house near the lake. Ona left a text message to Hank, telling him she found something and that she would discuss it with him in the morning over a nice and good cup of coffee from the cute café near the DPD.
But now she was bleeding on a dirty old wooden floor from a gunshot.
It turned out drug dealers were involved, and they did not want the police to snoop in. They made it clear when they just went for her head the moment she stepped into the seemingly empty and abandoned lake house, prompting a close combat fight with toppled furniture and smashed walls. She had the upper hand, but their fight ended with a second person appearing with a gun and directly shooting her.
Ona heard the one she was fighting against curse something, probably a “fucking stubborn bitch”, before they left her to bleed on the floor and taking her discarded gun with them. She saw him limping and for a moment she felt a surge of pride and satisfaction. But it wasn’t long lived.
The pain was unbearable. Her whole body hurt, the man went to hit her with all his strength and no matter how much training she did, it still hurt and bruised like hell. But the gunshot was as if molten iron was being poured into her like a never-ending stream of pain. Ona tried to crawl out of the house and to her car, to call for help, look for anything usable or her phone that went flying God knows where, but the truth was that she was going to die out of a bleeding gunshot because she was a fucking stupid, reckless idio–
A sob threatened to escape. She felt pathetic.
The drowsiness from blood loss was racking through her whole body. Ona wanted to close her eyes, wishing to wake up from this nightmare. The adrenaline from before was almost gone, and she didn’t have enough strength to crawl over her phone; it got knocked out under a crate, getting stuck on its edge. She didn’t know if to feel relieved that her attackers didn’t see it, because she didn’t have enough strength left to get it. So close yet so far.
Breathing was harder now, the pain not letting her gather her wits for a very tiny and fleeting moment. But Ona had to get to the phone, call for help, call for an ambulance, for Hank, for–
Her vision was getting blurry, and she didn’t know if it was because of the tears or because she was succumbing to unconsciousness before finally dying. Fuck.
When did she close her eyes?
No no no, not now, she couldn’t close them. She couldn’t, not now, she had to get back. She…
Voices. There were voices. Did her murderers come back? Just to make sure and finish the job in case she did survive?
Cold and gentle hands turned her around, carefully holding her and peeling her clothes to reveal the gunshot wound. An inhuman growl tore out of the stranger’s throat, a faint glint to where the eyes were supposed to be, although the shadow was… familiar. Ona tried to say something, but her mouth barely moved when she called out for help. Her fingers twitched in an effort to lift her arm, but she was so, so tired. The arms that were holding her gently tightened their hold, pulling her body close to the stranger’s in a hug. Ona was confused by the weird show of affection from someone she didn’t know or recognise, but as she was held by the stranger, she could see perfectly combed hair and a few rebellious strands falling on their forehead. And also honey eyes that shouldn’t be shining bright as they were doing right now. Ona swore she saw that hair and alabaster skin before… maybe in a dream. It couldn’t be, could it? Blood loss was making her delirious?
The sweet scent of her pierced through the brother’s acute sense of smell. It was fresh, sweet and determined as the day they met her for the first time— a tiny cut making them want to go feral— but they also could smell fear and desperation. They did not like that smell on her. Unknown to their precious human detective, they kept tabs on her just to make sure no other vampire or creature decided to play a quite deadly game, but this time it were humans who decided to hurt her.
The brothers thought they could resist it, but her blood flowing steadily out of the wound was making Connor lose himself piece by piece. It was calling him. Only a taste, a brief kiss on her skin, his tongue lapping up the outside and careful to not touch the wound... But deep down if he had a taste, he knew what would follow. Her blood made them both him and Richard retreat to their baser instincts, to hunt down their prey and have themselves a feast. It smelt like nothing else before, so full of life, so rich...
Connor’s mouth started to water and he had to swallow the spit threatening to spill alongside the guilt of wanting to claim this human as his, when the human didn’t even know of their existence. Yet.
“What do you think you are doing, brother?”
Connor caught himself before he licked his finger clean of her blood. His fangs were bared, his breathing harsher, and he even was tempted to snarl at the intruder. He didn’t realise he was about to do so until Richard’s glint in his eyes defied him. One look at his brother and Connor knew he was barely restraining himself, but he was holding onto his precious will of iron better than Connor himself. Such was the power of their darling detective’s blood on them.
“She doesn’t have much time.” Connor willed himself to stop looking at her soaked shirt, and carefully laid her down again to take off his coat and put it on her. He picked her up again in his arms and stood up.
“I’ve located the ones who did this to her.” Richard took off one of his leather gloves as Connor approached him at the front door. He let his thumb brush against her unharmed cheek, carefully avoiding the blood. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m famished”.
“Good.”
Needless to say that they were faster than an average human, and probably a car, so it came in handy to run through the forest until they reached their own car. The nearest hospital was, thank God, close, and they made it in time to get her into the ER. They let the doctors and nurses do their job, watching her disappear further into the hospital. Connor clutched his blood-soaked coat, his hand squeezing the fabric harshly.
When the nurse turned around to ask them for details and where they could go clean themselves a bit, they were already gone. Connor and Richard hated the smell of hospitals anyways, the reek of death and disease was too much. But also the scent of her blood was too distracting. She was safe in their hands. Their detective was a strong-willed human, and she would survive.
But the fate of those who harmed was going to be quite different.
It was easy to locate their detective’s room after dealing with her attackers. They sated the bloodlust and hunger her blood made them feel, and let themselves be extra vicious for having attempted to end her life then and there. They left behind them a true carnage that looked like a wild animal had its fun. But now they were high on adrenaline themselves, sated and the rich flavour of life running through their veins. It was a pity they tasted horrible.
Connor was wiping the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief Richard gave him as they were about to turn around the corner that lead them to her room’s corridor. The brothers saw police outside her door and they both grunted, displeased. The brothers would have to get inside in another way; Richard wasn’t feeling like manipulating that human’s mind.
Thankfully the window opened easily enough. They stepped inside with all the grace one could do so (Richard was always better at sports), dusting off briefly their clothes. She was sleeping and the beeping machine at her side told them she was stable and alive. Connor smiled, pleased by her strength and will to live. She would do a perfect mate if she—
She let out a sigh, frowning slightly as Ona briefly moved her head to the other side, unconsciously baring her neck to the brothers. Twin sharp intakes of air could be heard, eyes zeroed on her pulse point. The brothers could still smell her blood, although not fresh like when they found her, and their ears caught the sound of her steady heart beat. The thrumming of her pulse was deafening, its call worse than a siren’s luring out an unfortunate sailor. They both knew they just fed themselves, copiously, but it was right there, pulsing inside her veins, begging to be tasted for the first time…
The scrunching of her eyes and twitching nose signaled that she was waking up. Connor and Richard unconsciously walked closer to her bed, their figures looming over her resting body, as they took in every tiny movement. Slowly, the human detective opened her eyes, the drugs pumped up into her body making it very difficult for her to focus, but she saw two familiar shadows over her. She sighed tiredly, and closed her eyes again.
“I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?” her voice was just shy of a barely audible whisper, even more difficult to understand by the way she was drawling every word. “Of handsome strangers.”
“You think of us handsome?” Connor was amused. This wasn’t the way he thought the first real conversation between them would start.
“I’m sure you are. You must be. You are in my dreams.” Ona frowned. “This sounded like that Disney movie.”
Both brothers chuckled, leaning over her and resting their arms on her sides, mindful of not squashing any tubes or her bruised body.
“Then, are we your charming princes?” Richard caressed her cheek with his finger, softly.
“You haven’t even presented yourselves properly. Not very prince-ish of you.” Ona managed to open her eyes again, turning her head in the direction of the caresses. She was greeted with the clear sight of one of the strangers’ faces. Finally. “Oh fuck me, you are handsome.”
Connor took her hand, free of tubes and needles, as he openly laughed. He gently kissed her knuckles, letting the softness of her skin brush against his cold lips.
“If that is your wish…”
“I’m not in the perfect state for that, you rascal.” Ona managed a weak chuckle. “I just got shot and my ass kicked.” her gaze was met with smiling brown eyes.
She was used to the nights where the twin shadows would visit in her dreams. They were oddly comforting, if not weird at first, and always seemed to have her in the highest form of veneration. Ona would wake up feeling guilty of dreaming of such things, thinking of herself as an egocentric and needy individual. She didn’t know why she dreamed of handsome strangers, or why they did all kinds of things they promised in heated whispers against her skin. But right now? She welcomed all kind of comfort.
The finger on her cheek descended slowly, tracing her jaw first and then her neck, following her pulse.
“You should buy me a drink first.” The finger and the thumb brushing her knuckles stopped at the same time, twin eyebrows raising. “For. You know. If you wanna do that and…“ Ona took a deep breath, exhaustion clawing her to go back to sleep. “and all the things you promised me. Or just chat. I don’t know. But drink first.”
“You will have whatever you desire for, Starlight.” She felt those lips kiss her hand again, as cold fingers brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. “You only have to ask.”
“Tell me your names, then. So I can finally know the two imps haunting me in my sleep.”
“Imps? We have been that bad?” Connor’s teasing smirk made her snort.
“Handsome imps, but with no manners.”
The finger on her neck resumed its ministrations, going back to her jaw and then her chin to turn her to face its owner.
“I’m Richard.” Icy eyes pinner her on the spot, unable to look away from their sheer intensity.
“And I’m Connor.” As if Richard freed her from his spell, Ona turned her head the other way to gaze into deep pools of molten chocolate. She felt as if she would drown in them.
Connor went to open his mouth again to say something, but noises from outside the corridor made him stop. He clicked his tongue, displeased at being interrupted. Connor had the thought of sending the nurse away with a simple mind control trick, but he knew their darling had to rest and regain her strength.
“Sadly, our time is over for today.” Richard stood up, eyes glued to the door as if he wanted to destroy whoever dared to interrupt their time with their precious detective.
“It seems we have run out of time, yes.” Connor leaned further into her, letting go of her hands to cup her face, and his voice a soft and velvety purr. “We will see you soon, Moonbeam.”
His lips brushed softly the corner of her mouth. It was a chaste kiss, a gentle press of lips, but it felt as if her skin was on fire. Her heart beated faster as she took a sharp breath. Not wanting to feel left out, Richard bent over, mimicking Connor’s actions. Her mouth followed his as he retreated, unconsciously wanting more.
“Rest now and regain your strength, teacup. We will be watching over you.”
“Now you are guardian angels?” she had a tired smirk on her lips.
Richard chukled, but it didn’t hold the same mirth as before.
“I doubt there is a place in heaven for us.”
Confused, but completely fatigued from being awake, Ona didn’t comment on that. Maybe the next time they showed themselves on her dreams she would ask more about it. About them. Ona watched Connor and Richard open the window of her room, which confused her even more, and the next time she blinked they were gone with the curtain flowing on the chilly night breeze. Her eyes closed, not being able to be awake any longer.
The next time she woke up, rays of sunshine filtered through the drawn curtains and the sounds of people outside could be heard. Ona turned her head to see a vase full of beautiful and fresh flowers on her bedside table. The nurse told her later, when she was changing her bandages, two handsome men came to bring them to her, but following protocol, the hospital didn’t let visitors to come unless authorised to do so. The nurse handed Ona a handwritten note attached to it with a teasing smirk and wiggling eyebrows. Surely it was a nice and juicy gossip for the nurses on that wing of the hospital.
Ona read the note written in a beautiful penmanship when she was alone, feeling as this was something intimate and reserved for when she was on her own devices.
“Get well soon, Starlight. We owe you a drink indeed.
Yours truly,Connor & Richard.”
Ona took a sharp breath, regretting it later when the gunshot wound protested.
That… hadn’t been a dream?
Ona noticed there were numbers at the very end of the note. It looked like a phone number. Ona got out of her thoughts at the sound of Hank barking at the officer on the door to move the fuck out and let him see his fucking reckless detective. Ona smiled at that, knowing Hank probably drove like his life depended on it the moment he got notified one of his detectives got shot.
All his temper and angry words disappeared the moment he stepped into the room. The officer outside was smart enough to let the Lieutenant pass. When he saw her tired smile, Hank let out a relieved exhale. She was okay, everything was okay. He took a chair and sat down next to Ona. He rubbed his hand across his face, letting out a tired sigh.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again, understood?”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” at least she had the decency to look truly ashamed. She knew Hank’s baggage and she knew what a mess Hank must have been until he got here.
“It’s Hank to you, you cork.”
Ona laughed at Hank using one of her own curse words.
“Hank.” After a moment of silence, Ona turned her head to him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, kid. Get well soon because we all miss you and we can’t stand Reed being a snotty asshole anymore. Tina can only hold him in line for so long.”
“¡Ahá! So he does behave when I’m around!” Ona grinned.
“Only because you whooped his ass that time and put him in his place. He fears you.”
“Good. He should.” Ona’s grin turned to a satisfied smirk.
Hank chuckled. He patted his jacket until he found what he was looking for. He waved the object so Ona could see. A twix fun size bar. Ona’s stomach made its presence known.
“This is for you for when you are better AND a good girl who listens to her doctors. Don’t do like the last time you got injured.” Hank’s knowing ‘dad’ stare made her feel like a scolded child.
“I won’t, I promise.” she was not pouting. Nope.
“You better.” Hank knew Ona would probably launch for the chocolate candy bar the moment she was alone, but he let her have that tiny pleasure. Only when he wasn’t looking.
But Hank had to get serious.
“Now, I know you are tired and need to lie down and heal, but I need you to tell me what happened and what did you see.”
“I know.”
Ona took a deep breath and began explaining everything, what she saw, what she discovered, the leads and then the connection to drug dealers. Her attackers also got her gun, so maybe they could track it and lead to them. She even included the one or two random strangers that helped her out. Ona only had vague memories of that and couldn’t remember much, just that someone found her, but she omitted the late night visit. Ona needed to look for the truth about that first. Also Hank didn’t have to know about the massive amount of wet dreams she got at night. Nope. TMI!
After talking about more details and then changing the topic to random things, Hank parted with one last gift: her phone with a newly cracked phone screen. Just her luck. At least she didn’t lose all the info in there and the photos, of course. That counted as a win.
Once Ona was discharged from the hospital, with a few days off and a phone call from Fowler that she was on weeks of desk duty just in case (because they all knew she would lie about being okay and would end up opening her stitches again), and well, she wasn’t too happy about it, she dug her purse for the note that was delivered to her alongside with the flowers. Ona was chewing her lip, contemplating if to press the call button or chicken out and mull over it for the entire week. She decided to suck it up.
She pressed the call button.
Anxiety was gnawing at her insides as the dial tone rang. Maybe she did dream it? Maybe it was a untasteful joke from one of the nurses that heard her talk in her sleep? Maybe it–
“I thought you would never call, Starlight.” Ona was greeted by the voice she heard all those nights, all those whispers and filthy promises– “So, how about that drink we promised you?”
“Yeah, hi! Uh… about that… how about, uh… uhm, tomorrow night?” Ona’s voice trembled.
“Tomorrow night, Green Bee at 8?” Ona could feel the purr in what she assumed was Connor’s voice.
“Tomorrow night. Okay. Perfect.” Ona closed her eyes. She was being an awkward mess but Connor didn’t seem to either notice it or mind it. She was absolute garbage at this. But her questions nagged at her to get to know the truth behind all this.
“See you soon, teacup.” That probably was Richard. It was quieter, deeper, but with a touch of fondness in it. “Enjoy your day and don’t overexert yourself.”
“A-ah, yeah! You too. You both. I won’t. Thank you, hahah...”
A sultry see you tomorrow reached her ears, making her embarrassingly squeak out a reply. She could do this. She was a goddamn detective, she got into worse situations and even more dangerous too.
No amount of training or experience got her ready to see them both waiting for her in front of the new and fancy restaurant, looking as if they stepped out of one her multiple dreams. Well dressed, hair perfectly styled with those rebellious strands falling on their foreheads as always, and twin smiles that greeted her when she approached them both.
They were very much here and very much real.
She had more questions than ever.
#dbh#detroit become human#rk800#rk900#hank anderson#rk800 x oc#rk900 x oc#rk800 x oc x rk900#vampire au#ask#anon#data simon anon#AHHFAKJHHGFAJKNSGASRGHKFJFKSD#Anonymous
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