Some D-Day Matt; I headcanon him as a paratrooper with the 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion. Content warnings: Injury, violence, death mention.
6th June, 1944
Through a thick bank of clouds—and then they’re out the other side—into hell.
The brilliant, glowing white streaks of German anti-aircraft fire light up the inky blackness. So much for hoping to sneak in, Matthew thinks. The dark silhouettes of the other C-47 Dakotas flying through this lethal gauntlet, crosses against the blinding, thunderous flashes of light.
Through the open door of the plane, a glimpse of sheer pandemonium and chaos above, behind and below. The fiery outline of a damaged plane in front spiralling down to the ground, its fuselage brilliantly wreathed in fire.
A series of violent lurches, like that of the worst out-of-control rollercoaster ride, a thousand times over. The C-47 is bucking hard, as the pilots took evasive measures, slamming several men to the side of the plane in a tangle of limbs. Loud cursing and groans of pain, as several who were sent careening into one another furiously fought to untangle their static lines, which were clipped to the main anchor line above.
Matthew grits his teeth, braces himself on the door handle as the plane banks violently again, to the right.
The Karasuno royal library curator Tsukishima Kei is a curious man. He has rules, quirks, and a sharp gaze that never seems to leave your back. It’s especially deadly to the boys who visit you—though you come to find out the reason very, veryquickly.
warnings:public sex (…sorta), creampie, thigh sex, oral (f!receiving)
notes: written for tune june, a church of meian collaboration. masterlist posted here! check it out for more media from our amazing creators!
the song that spawned this fic is magic of love by perfume! especially these lyrics:
paint a picture of sweet love // and make you fall in love with me // magic of love, if I can use magic like that // will my heart still beat like this?
The Karasuno royal library sits in the east wing of the palace nestled between the flower garden and the guard’s dormitories. The tomes stored within its walls are known to be the best in the entire country, the collection ranging from the foundation of the continent to the darkest of magic texts sealed away behind a protective barrier. The bookshelves rise high, the ceiling even higher, and light streams in from stained glass windows, casting colorful shadows that dance along the marble floor.
It’s been your dream since you were a child to work here, and you had dedicated your adolescence to putting your goal to work. It paid off in the end—a scholarship to Karasuno University to study the history of magic, graduating at the top of your class and becoming the royal library’s latest apprentice to the curator. You’re not ashamed to admit you cried tears of happiness the moment you found out, but you’re not crying now.
You’re all confidence as you stand outside of the library, taking a deep breath before pushing the large wooden doors open and stepping inside. The smell of old parchment and woody tomes hits you immediately, and you duck so you can avoid a large red book that zooms by your head. You pay it no mind—neither to the borrower of the book who runs past you with a harsh whisper to get back here. You head straight for the front desk, the rolled-up parchment that gives your new assignment clutched tight in your hands.
Two men stand at the front desk, conversing in harsh whispers. The shorter one has a mop of dark grey-green hair, his dark red robe signalling his status as an alchemist. The taller one is blond, thick glasses on his face that do nothing to conceal the annoyance that crinkles around his eyes. His dark green tunic means he must be the curator of the library; you sport a matching green dress that Head Wizard Ukai told you was appropriate when he gave you your assignment.
“—will be fine,” the brown-haired one says quietly, patting his friend on the arm. “I’m sure she’ll be nice.”
“We worked just fine together, I don’t know why they moved you,” the blond curtly responds before he sighs and rubs his eyes under his glasses. “I don’t want to train anyone new.”
“Look on the bright side, Tsukki!” The first man chirps, taking a step back. When he turns his head, you can see a dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks. “She could be cute.”
“She needs to be good at her job.”
They’re definitely talking about you. It’s not that you mean to interrupt really—but isn’t it a bit rude to talk about someone when they’re standing right there?
for@gingerall <3 i finished this right before you posted the keiilen moodboard and i felt it was so cute that we might have been making them at the same time without even realising it
the pain of being keiichirou:
“why do people love the way i look? it’s just skin over bone and flesh sandwiched between it. why does it matter to anyone? it doesn’t to me. i can’t….i can’t even remember what i look like….why do you love something that means nothing the person it belongs to?”
