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milkb0nny · 6 months

Note

Hello! May I request Jing Yuan and Welt finding usually silly and vibrant reader laying on the ground unmoving and unresponsive. Upon closer inspection they realize reader is crying with a blank expression . Turns out reader had to confront some people who hurt them deeply in the past and afterwards reader just shut down.

(I hope this isn't too much info. If your not comfy feel free to decline, I'd appreciate if you let me know though (mostly just for my peace of mind 😅))

Thank you.

🥐

Jing Yuan and Welt comforting their unresponsive s/o

Jing Yuan x gn!reader, Welt x gn! reader

Note: Thank you very much for this request! I love this idea and it was very healing while writing it. Everyone has their own struggles, so angsty fluff is always a good way to cope with stuff. Nevertheless, I hope you'll like it. Take care! 🤎

Warnings: mentions of trauma in the past, crying, unresponsive reader

𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧...

Jing Yuan, the General of the Xianzhou, stood beside his usually bubbly and extroverted partner, who was now unresponsive and in tears. He questioned himself, as he never saw you in such a sorry state. Sure, some days you cried on his shoulders and expressed your anxiety openly, but this was another level. Jing Yuan was torn apart by the sight of your motionless body that seemed to be glued on the ground. Never in his life did he expect you to be shaken to this point. The normally well put together man felt somehow responsible for your horrifying breakdown. Of course, Jing Yuan loved you and did everything for you. Witnessing how the tears left your eyes, creating a small puddle beneath your face, meant that he hadn’t been there the right time.

The traumatic encounter with the person linked to your past had left you deeply shattered, unable to contain the flood of emotions. Jing Yuan's calm and gentle nature belied the weight he carried as a leader, but in this moment, he was solely focused on comforting the love of his life. No matter what had happened to you in the past, he was now your new protector and savior from all the pain. The tall man came closer to you, slowly approaching you as he wanted to avoid frightening you. However, you flinched a little as he accidentally made a wrong move, and that alone caused unbelievable rage inside of him. How could someone harm you in this way, so much that you even flinch in sight of your partner.

Kneeling down beside your aching body, he slowly reached out and gently wiped away your hot tears, his touch soft as a breeze through the leaves. His voice, usually commanding on the battlefield, was now tender and soothing.

“My love, I'm here with you. You're safe with me,” he whispered, his gentleness pouring into your consciousness.

Your devastating sobs continued, but you still shifted your gaze to Jing Yuan, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. He wrapped his strong, protective arms around you, allowing you to bury your puffy face in his welcoming chest. He hummed reassuring words, his deep voice a balm to your distressed soul. Oh, he couldn’t imagine how much your sweet heart must suffer.

“You don't have to face this alone, darling. I'm here, right here, and I won't let anyone hurt you again. We'll heal together,” his words hit you like a struck, releasing you from the freezing trauma, and finally you can take a deep breath, that you missed the whole time. His love always softened you up but it also made you bawl your eyes out even more. Though, Jing Yuan never minded - it didn’t matter to him how much you sob and cry because all these emotions deserve to be heard.

Jing Yuan's love for you, his partner, was unwavering. He would willingly lay down his life to see you smile again in dark times, and this moment, as you clung to him, was a testament to that devotion. He was determined to be your sole anchor, to help you find your way back from the darkness that haunted you.

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐭...

Welt, a respected and wise member of the Express, was known for his rationality and stern demeanor. March never mined his serious personality, but sometimes even she was a little intimidated by it - he always handled difficult things so easily. However, when it came to his lovely partner, he wore his heart on his sleeve. He had never expected to involve himself in a romantic relationship, but you entered his life with full grace. The moment he had set his tired eyes on you, all life flowed back into his senses, desiring you. He couldn't bear to see you unresponsive and in tears, especially knowing the cause was a traumatic reminder of the past. Welt didn’t need to analyze your state, as you had once told him about your past, but viewing your shivering yet still body caused a rip in his heart.

With utmost care and gentleness, Welt approached you, who had withdrawn into silence. He knew very well how to bring you back to the present. To be honest, he was glad to find you in this state, as he wouldn’t forgive himself, if he never discovered your fragile being. You usually hid in placed where you knew you were alone, though this time you were unable to make it. The man who found you was the safest space in the universe. Welt, gentler with you than with anyone, could never hurt you.

He spoke softly, his words laced with genius concern. "Love, I know you can hear me. You’re safe now, no one can do you harm. Whatever you're feeling, I'm here. Come here in my lap," his deep voice rushed through your foggy mind, and you eased up as the hope of safety proved itself.

Your mesmerizing eyes, usually filled with admiration and enjoyment of life, now reflected endless pain and vulnerability - vulnerability that made you feel so week too. Welt carefully took your ice-cold hand and held it firmly, his touch conveying reassurance and strength. His warmth was a contrast to the coldness of your skin, to you it felt reassuring though. His touch felt like the rising sun, slowly demolishing ice and uncovering nature, causing everything to bloom. You bloomed, pushing the hardships of your past away.

“You don't have to face this pain alone. I'm by your side, always," Welt inquired once more, promising you his love.

Welt's wisdom usually extended beyond the realms of intellect; it encompassed the depth of his emotional connection with you. He knew how to provide comfort, how to be the sanctuary you needed in this moment of turmoil. He was willing to give his all, even if it meant sacrificing himself, to see you going through this dark chapter. Kindness, food, a shelter - those were things everyone could give to you but Welt was the only one who collected all your pain and released you from it. Since you engaged in a relationship with the stern man, you healed more and more.

In this moment you started to cling to him, seeking solace in his embrace. Welt's facade of stoicism cracked, revealing the depth of love he held within. He adored you so much. He was ready to face any storm with you, protecting you at all costs, and cherishing the vulnerability that only he was privileged to witness. Welt loved how you expressed your feelings and he was proud - endlessly proud of you that you call out to him, even if you are non verbal.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hrs x reader #star rail #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #welt x reader #welt x you #welt x y/n #hrs welt #star rail welt

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zchnlswrld · 1 year

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[ 23.39 ] racer!jisung — angst / personal fave

“no, i don’t think this is good for you! i don’t think this is good for anyone! you got lucky today so be grateful for once!” you shouted at jisung, hands on your hips in disappointment.

jisung sat on the medical bed in full leather, some parts torn and scratched, while cuts and bruises covered whatever parts of his body were visible. jaemin stood in front of him cleaning him up while renjun perched at the end of the bed holding your partner’s jacket.

“but think ab- you’re being cocky and it’s not helping anyone ji!” you cut him off in pure anger. being a street racer was nothing to joke about, doing many illegal things with life threatening risks involved.

“why not? i won and that’s what counts.” oh, you thought. he was oddly calm for someone that had almost died.

before you could speak up again jeno and chenle came in with smiles on their faces, mark and haechan soon followed each holding a large black gym bag. “guess how much?” jeno’s smiled increased.

jisung began smiling too. “no. i can’t do this anymore,” as the look of anger on your face turned to disappointment and sadness he began frowning, pushing jaemin out the way and standing up “i can’t do us anymore.” you said using your hands to motion the two of you.

“if you cared you would have stopped when i asked you to…” carefully you look up at him, heartbreak in his eyes as he felt what was coming. he began shaking his head slightly trying to push away any pain he felt as his chest began to ache.

eventually he was stood right in front of you, barely any space separating you even though your hearts were miles apart. the pain wasn’t worth it, the waiting was a waste of time.

slowly you reached a hand up to rest on his cheek, the other one taking his hand that hung next to him. “honey, look at you…” you started, stroking his cheek as you spoke “i’d rather leave before i lose you. you may have won but i lost…”

jisung tightened his grip on your hand, silently begging you not to leave. his chest hurt, his head hurt, everything hurt physically and emotionally. he couldn’t lose you, his lucky charm. his love.

“i don’t want to be there when one day i’m sitting at home, our home, waiting for you and you never come.” trying to look at anything but him you lifted your hand to play with his hair, moving it away from his eyes “what do i do then, hm?” tears began pooling in your eyes at the thought.

although it was inappropriate to have this conversation in front of his friends and team mates it had to be done. you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you were involved in his life if he died the way he almost did today, especially when you’ve been trying your hardest to get him to stop.

“honey, i understand you love the rush and you do it for the boys so i can’t force you to stop but seeing you go through this hurts me too much. i tried my best, i really did but i can’t do this anymore.” you rest you hand on his cheek once more, stroking under his eye as he begins to cry.

jisung looks down at the floor, blinking as hard as he can to get the tears to go away. he begins shaking his head much harder now as his grip tightens even more. “but what if- if they ge- get you?” he managed to get out.

“then i’ll call you or jaemin or johnny or whoever picks up first, my love. i just don’t want any part in this before it’s too late.” you softly explained, nct’s rivals had been hot on their heels recently after many losses at the hands of jisung, jungwoo and yangyang and began following doyoung’s partner unaware she was also on their team.

jisung looked like a child right now, clinging onto his partner because he couldn’t get his own way. he understood everything perfectly but this wasn’t what he wanted but he didn’t want to quit either… but that would mean potentially leaving you alone one day without any notice to fend for yourself while you wait for him to come back to you and that’s not fair.

“oh ji, i love you with all my heart. i’ll wait for you for some time to stop this but after that i really don’t think i can. i have a life too and i’d love to live it with you but you won’t give it a chance.” he looked up at you with red eyes, still crying. your tears fell too but in his eyes you looked like the prettiest person on the planet.

this was long overdue, everything from the past three years you’ve known about the real him has lead to this. you couldn’t do it anymore and it wasn’t fair. the only person not affected by jisung’s actions was himself.

his grip on your hand loosened, “you’ll come back to me one day, right?” he didn’t reply “hm?” you hummed ever so softly, how the smile on your face hurt him. he timidly nodded.

“then we’ll be okay, my love. next year we can go to japan when all the cherry blossoms are out again and it’ll all be fixed.” you placed both of your hands on jisung’s cheeks and stare into his eyes.

how could you look at him with so much love after everything he’s done? how could you say that to him when you both know it won’t be fine? how can you say all of that when you know he won’t come back to you?

carefully you placed your lips on his. it was a soft kiss and it was over after three seconds, too short for his liking. it was full of love, it was a goodbye kiss. after you pulled back you still remained close, eye contact never breaking.

“i love you, i’ll see you then.” you smiled.

“as do i, i can’t wait.” he said, wiping your tears and kissing your forehead. his lips stayed on there for a while, not wanting you to leave but he couldn’t be selfish anymore.

jaemin noticed your discomfort and pulled him back. “chenle can walk you to your car,” he started slowly, sitting jisung back down before coming out of the room with you and chenle “goodbye.” although you weren’t super close with jaemin he still hugged you, pulling you into a warm embrace that could only remind you of a parent’s love.

once he let you go he gave you a small wave before going back into the medical room. you stood there, unsure why you were frozen. maybe you wanted to say goodbye or just return the hug.

chenle softly grabbed your elbow to motion you to come along, walking through the halls of the house felt weird. you could go into any hallway or room and think of a memory you shared with your partner.

as you reached the front door you turned to face chenle. “i’m sorry that happened and… it’s really unfortunate that we met like this because i think you’re a really great guy… it’s a shame we met this way…” you smiled at him as you wiped your tears.

he didn’t reply, not sure on how to comfort you so instead he gave you a small smile and pat on the shoulder. the pair of you stood in silence for a moment before you smiled one more time.

“you don’t need to see me out. thank you, again, for everything. i hope we meet again a different way next time.” you said before you turned your back, leaving and softly closing the door behind you.

everyone knew jisung would never give up the rush that street racing gave him. the betting, the winning, the speed, the adrenaline. it was all too perfect for him, he would never give it up regardless of how it hurt everyone else.

he loves you but he loves racing more. what ever you make him feel is nothing compared to what he feels when he’s inside that car.

you knew you wouldn’t see him next march, you knew you wouldn’t see him at all anymore but that was ok… it had to be ok.

#nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct au #nct imagine #nct drabble #nct angst #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct dream angst #nct dream scenario #jisung x reader #nct jisung x reader #RINA’S TIMESTAMP

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naturaldreamer · 1 year

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Hello! How’s your day? I hope it is well. May I request a Error/Reader angst w/ comfort fic where Error leaves the reader alone at the void for a long time and ends up coming back, excited to finally see them again, but suddenly finds out their s/o had turned into a glitch because of exposure to the anti-void?

Also, may I be 🍦 anon? ( if you allow emoji anons, that is. )

If anything in this request makes you uncomfortable or uninterested, please delete this ask! Bestest of luck with writing, dear friendo!

Hello, hello little reader! It's nice to meet you! Thank you so much for the request! ♥ My day has been good so far, thank you for asking. I hope your day has been well.

Also, yes! I definitely allow emoji anons! You shall be called... Icecream anon! ♥ This is also for those that wish to use an emoji to converse with me without revealing your identity. ^^

Awww, why thank you, friend! This request didn't make me uncomfortable at all. Rather, I was excited to write this because Error's my favorite skeleton out of all of the AUs (Nightmare being a close second).

Now, without further ado, here's your request written out, Icecream Anon. ♥

When is he coming back...?

There are no clocks to tell the time. No way to find out if it’s day or night in the white, empty void that Error left you alone in. Only dread of his prolonging absence keeps you sane long enough to try to find a way out, even if it seems impossible to do so. You have tried in the past when you first met the destructive and dangerous skeleton. Even to this day, you’re unsure of why he kept you around in the first place.

Was it loneliness that he kept you near? Curiosity, perhaps? Either way, you’re grateful that Error kept you alive when he could have easily torn your soul apart and left you to die, uncaring of your presence afterward.

A sharp pain in your chest causes you to yelp and fall to your knees, tears threatening to fall from your eyes from the lingering ache in your soul. You rub your chest to try to ease the uncomfortable being, but it remains and only grows. Choking back a sob, you struggle to stand, your legs shaking to keep you upright. Taking a deep breath to calm your rising anxiety, you keep pushing yourself to walk around.

Whether it’s to distract you or to keep moving, you’re unsure as you firmly press a hand against your chest, finding it a bit harder to breathe.

Error wouldn’t leave you for a long time on purpose, would he...? Why is he taking so long? What did you do to deserve this? This agonizing pain... The creeping sorrow of being left alone to, perhaps, die in this unforgiving void. It didn’t help either that it lacks warmth; the freezing air prickling your sweaty cheeks and the back of your neck.

Shivering involuntarily, you stop in front of an invisible wall, your hands pressing against the surface.

“Let me out! Please! I don’t...!” you shouted as you bang on the wall, tears running down your flustered cheeks as you sobbed, your voice cracking, “I don’t want to die! Please!”

Only echoes of your voice return your cries. Wailing freely, your knees buckle as you slowly lower yourself to the ground, no longer having the strength or Hope to stand.

“Please... Help me...” you croaked out pitifully.

A tingling sensation wraps around your ankles as you sit in front of the barrier. Slowly, you glance over your shoulders to see what’s tickling you.

Your eyes widen in fear as your heart skips a beat in your chest and despair wraps tightly within your gut.

Surrounding your ankles and creeping up your legs are glitches that are slowly deforming the appearance of your body. It causes your legs to disappear for a second before appearing again.

Panic takes a hold of you as you scramble to sit on your bottom and try to swat at your legs to try to stop the growing glitches on your body.

It was futile.

Crying loudly, you continue to smack your legs, adrenaline pumping through your veins in your strong need to survive, “No no no no no no! Please, no! Stop! Stop growing on me!”

Despite your best efforts, there’s no way to stop the glitches from climbing further upward. Trembling, you shake your head and scream at the top of your lungs, hoping, no praying that Error will hear you.

“ERROR!!!!”

_______

Error clutches a crystallized echo flower in his grasp.

This particular alternate universe was a pain in the coccyx. It took longer than usual in dealing with the anomaly here since it took a while in finding it. The residents of this universe didn’t help, either, as they were always finding ways to slow him down. Error ended their miserable lives quickly with his strings and dusting them before they could summon their attacks. All that lies before him is now a desolate Waterfall with dust surrounding his feet.

Regardless of the troubles he faced, Error finds a moment to admire Waterfall’s beauty, the echo flowers, and rivers causing an ethereal glow. After listening to the water rushing peacefully through the area and glancing around, he brings his attention to the flower in between his clawed fingers.

A rarity among the universes he’s crossed through. Perhaps the human back home will enjoy this gift. Though, they didn’t need to know that Error stole it from a dusted monster.

It’s a secret that’ll remain between him and this plant.

With a smirk, Error shoves the flower inside his pocket and focuses on making a portal back to his place. A circular portal opens up in front of him and shows the white void on the other side. The chill coming from within causes his bones to rattle a bit, but he shakes it off due to the familiarity of the temperature. Without looking back, Error steps through the portal and closes it behind him afterward, searching the place for his human.

There’s wailing on the other side of the void, the sound causing him to snap his attention toward it and squinting in that general direction. Without his glasses, Error can’t see the human’s form perfectly, only a blur up ahead that lets him know that you’re there.

But... Something’s wrong.

“Why are you crying, human? I wasn’t gone that long,” Error huffed before he strolls over to you, an uneasy feeling wrapping around his broken soul.

“E-e-e-error...”

It’s your voice that makes him pause. The little errors are slowly increasing around his body the longer the silence stretches on. Hesitantly, Error digs through the inside of his jacket and brings out his red glasses before placing them on, his vision becoming clearer.

He wishes he hadn’t.

Error almost goes through a crash upon seeing your glitchy, broken appearance. You’re still on the ground with your legs up and arms around them, your tear-streaked face staring right at him. Like him, you have little errors surrounding your body and blue permanent tear streaks over your cheeks.

Your body completely changed and it’s all his fault because he lost track of time.

Error’s corrupted soul pulses painfully within his chest as he kneels in front of you, his body trembling as he slowly reaches out. You watch him intently as he skims over your cheek hesitantly with his claws. Error shivers involuntarily due to touching you, but there wasn’t any pain afterward. Slowly, he cups the side of your face as he looks back at you, grimacing at your current state.

He freezes in place when you slowly raise your one hand and let it hover over his hand that’s cupping your cheek. Tilting your head until your head rests comfortably in his hand, you smile gently at him, your face soft with no hatred in sight.

“W-welcome h-h-home, E-e-e-error...” you greeted him, your voice having that static tone.

Error’s soul throbs at your genuine gaze and words, already feeling the guilt gnawing him.

In the past, he would have never done this sweet gesture to a human nor would he have allowed them to be so close. With the fear of being vulnerable around others, he kept people and monsters at a distance. Then again, they usually weren’t alive long enough to grow to know him.

Now... Now things were a bit different with you. Sure, you’re a human, but someone that he grew attached to and unwilling to let go of no matter how much you begged him to. Seeing as though he messed up by leaving you alone for a long time and causing you to be in this predicament, it seems Error has his work cut out for him in making sure you’re comfortable in this form.

For now, though, he’s content in this position, your soft cheek resting against his hard, bony palm.

With a heavy sigh, Error grins sadly at you before he responds, “I’m back, human. I’m back.”

(I hope Error wasn't too OOC in this. I did my best, though! >w< I'll see you guys next time with the next request! ♥)

#Undertale #Undertale Error #Errortale #Undertale Sans #Error Sans #Reader x Sans #Reader x Error #Undertale x Reader #Errortale Sans

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merrywaanderer · 8 months

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the return

aziraphale + crowley

synopsis: set sometime post s2.

warnings: SERIOUS SPOILERS FOR GOOD OMENS SEASON 2. i am NOT joking. read at your own peril... also, contains angst.

word count: 700

a/n: this is a fix-it.

⭒

When he comes back, he’s yelling.

Sure, he has shouted, but never before like this. He left that to Crowley. But somewhere between all the heartbreak and the back and forth, his angelic patience has wilted away.

No, not wilted. It has been worn away, like the sides of a canyon drowned by the rivers of time, and with all the pain and agony of the centuries, he has been worn down.

With all the love of the only creature who has ever truly mattered to him, he has been torn apart.

Torn between what is right, and what is right for him, because since the beginning of time itself, since the beginning of that little quadrant of the universe, Crowley is the only being who has made sense. Who felt right from the start, though Aziraphale was loath to admit it at the time — or indeed, up until now. But now he has returned, and despite the mutual anger, despite the pain — despite the ache in his chest which sucks the air away whenever he tries to breathe — he tries to push down his guilt and meet those lovely eyes he has known for always, because now, for always, this is the only thing which has been right in his existence.

He and Crowley were ineffable from the start. He should have known.

“But I didn’t leave you!” he screams, and it’s as if all the pain he has ever felt is poured into those words. “You left me.”

And here his voice breaks, and he looks away, because Crowley’s eyes are bare of their glasses, and Aziraphale feels like crying.

“You told me you forgave me,” Crowley says into the silence, and his voice is oddly stilted, gravelly, how Aziraphale’s throat feels.

Aziraphale swallows, wrings his hands. Takes that final, damning step toward Crowley.

“I meant, I love you,” he says.

He hears himself say it, as though he has been discorporated and is watching his last bodily words from afar. But at the same time he sees Crowley sigh and his shoulders slump as he shakes his head. His eyes are full of tears, and Aziraphale suddenly remembers how Crowley looked once, sitting at a pub, talking to his own watery image — I lost my best friend.

And then he strides, and takes Crowley’s face in his hands, and presses his lips against Crowley’s. He’s clumsy, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, only that this feels right, more right than anything Heaven could ever offer him, because Crowley is all that matters to him, and even they could not give him this.

There is a moment frozen in time, there, where he fears this will be naught but a repeat of the first time, where Aziraphale tastes the salt of their mingling tears and wishes for death sooner than heartbreak.

But then Crowley’s arms are around him, his slim form pressed to Aziraphale’s soft edges, and it is as though their Earthly bodies were made in mirror images of one another, because Aziraphale fits perfectly against Crowley, and Crowley against Aziraphale.

And Crowley kisses him back like he is the first breath of life, like he needs him as much as Aziraphale does him, like he forgives him, like he—

“I love you, angel.”

The words are murmured against his lips, and Aziraphale’s breath stutters. He feels the vibrations more than he hears them, but his heart hurts a little less, and he wants those words again, so he pleads,

“Say it again. Please.”

But he doesn’t need to plead, because Crowley is already saying it again and again and again,

“I love you I love you I love you I love you,” and Aziraphale is melting into him, and Crowley is holding him up.

“I love you,” Aziraphale says it again too, just so Crowley knows. Just in case he doubted — oh, how could he ever doubt, when Aziraphale looks at him like this?

But Crowley is smiling.

“I know,” he says.

He is smiling, as before. The nebula glitters in his eyes, and its radiance reaches out, cradles the other angel in the warmth of its glow.

This is all that Aziraphale has ever wanted. He runs his fingers through Crowley’s hair, soft and short, where once it was long. Crowley’s eyes twinkle down at him.

He has loved this being in every time and in all of space, and he is never letting him go again.

⭒

good omens taglist: @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen , @ineffable-hubbiewubbies

send me an ask to be added to my taglist!

#aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale and crowley #good omens #good omens fic #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #go 2 spoilers #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #fic #tina's writing

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deadboyswalking · 2 years

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Wait A Minute, Baby, Stay With Me A While

Dabi had always craved affection after sex. He couldn't help it, wanting something so ridiculous and weak when he hooked up with strangers to get off just for the hell of it. He hated that vulnerable, soft part of himself that always came out during sex, but he couldn't stop feeling like he was being torn apart inside as hookup after hookup used his body and then threw him out.

Usually, the hookup would let him use their shower after, and that was when that bullshit hope would settle into his chest. He always showered alone, always cleaned up his partner too to sweeten the deal and to show that he cared in the one way he could, but after the warm bubble of cleanup burst, the hookup would always start making excuses, talking about how "it's getting late" and "I have work in the morning, you better go" and "this was fun, but my real partner is coming over soon."

Dabi's hands would always shake as he pulled his clothes back on and left, out of a warm bed and back to wherever he was currently crashing. He couldn't help the ache inside his chest as yet another person denied him the intimacy he so desperately desired.

He didn't expect anything different the first time he had sex with Shigaraki. Hell, he expected worse as yet another whore fucking their boss, expected to feel twice as worthless as he usually did after a hookup kicked him out (and if he had felt something for Shigaraki even before the sex amplified it and exposed him like a nerve, well, that was his own fucking business). Honestly, he didn't even expect Shigaraki to tolerate Dabi's continued presence as he carefully, gently cleaned all the sweat and cum off and out of the younger man's body. Maybe Shigaraki was still too blissed out to argue, though, and he'd leave Dabi's room as soon as he came back to himself.

Dabi wanted Shigaraki to stay with him for a while.

Dabi didn't know how to ask.

He sat on the other side of his bed and lit a cigarette, waiting for Shigaraki to leave so he could shower and shove that aching vulnerability back down where it belonged.

A cool hand on his back, partially gloved, made him jump, almost choking on the fumes he inhaled.

"Can you chill?" Shigaraki's raspy voice said from right behind him, "Sit still and smoke your nasty cig, I think one of my nails caught a staple."

Dabi did as he said, body frozen in shock as he felt the slight sting of a staple being pushed back into his shoulder.

A pair of chapped lips pressed a soft kiss over the re-secured staple and, oddly enough, Dabi wanted to cry. Stupid sex hormones.

"There, it was just loose," Shigaraki said, "Now lie down."

Dabi whipped around and stared at him; the cigarette turned to ash.

"What? Why?" he croaked. Tomura raised a hairless brow.

"So I can clean you up too?" he replied, as if Dabi was some type of idiot. As if Dabi was the person breaking the unspoken hookup rules.

Dabi scooted down the bed until his head was on his pillow, his eyes never leaving Tomura as the younger man pulled out another couple of wipes from the pack on Dabi's nightstand.

"You're quiet," Shigaraki said as he softly wiped Dabi's face, "And sweaty, gross."

"Can't a man relax?" Dabi half-heartedly shot back. It wasn't his fault that he didn't know what to say or do in uncharted territory like this. He'd never had a partner offer to clean him like this, not even when he bottomed. He had certainly never had a partner who kissed his clean forehead before moving down his body to wipe down his lower half. "You don't need to do that, I can take a shower."

"Lazy ass," Shigaraki clicked his tongue, "Also, now you're acting all shy? Your dick was inside me 10 minutes ago, I think you can handle me cleaning it."

Dabi could do nothing but lie there, pliant, as Shigaraki did what he wanted, even turning over at the other man's insistence so Tomura could clean the scratches he'd clawed into Dabi's back. He felt interest stirring in his cock again as Shigaraki wiped down there, but he didn't really want a second round, he wanted more of Shigaraki's care that he couldn’t ask for. Besides, once Shigaraki was done being weird and soft, he'd leave and Dabi would be alone again.

"Scoot over, I'm cold," Shigaraki grumbled, tossing Dabi's covers back on the bed.

"You're not leaving?" Dabi blurted out, doing as he was told and making room for Shigaraki to wiggle in and cover them both in blankets. The younger man, curled up against his warm side like a reptile, playfully glared at him with those big, pretty eyes from where he rested his head on Dabi's chest.

"Kicking me out already? You're a terrible host."

Shigaraki yawned, snuggled further into the warmth Dabi radiated. Dabi took a risk and ran a hand through his soft hair; Shigaraki hummed at the affection and for once, Dabi felt satisfied and comfortable after sex. Maybe even cared for.

"I'm surprised, that's all, boss," Dabi replied, "Didn't think you'd be the type to want to stick around."

"Well, my room's all the way down the hall, it's cold, and 'm tired," Shigaraki mumbled, "If you have a problem with it you can leave."

"This is my room."

"Belongs to the League, belongs to me, same difference."

"Whatever you say, boss," Dabi said, huffing a quiet laugh. Lips pressed against his chest, right above his heart, and Dabi returned the favor by letting himself kiss that crown of hair.

As Dabi closed his eyes with the comforting weight of a sleeping Shigaraki in his arms, he finally had what he craved.

#shigadabi #shigadabi fic #saro's writing #I'll probably put this on ao3

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icehot13 · 2 years

Note

Okaaaaaay. So late to the party this time around but better late than never, right? Anyway I am here to talk about the last two chapters.

So first off, chapter seven. Wade going through it, down bad and not at all in a good way. Wanting to avoid Spidey. And Peter showing up at his apartment their friendship warms my heart, he knew exactly what kind of mood Wade was in, purely based on what he bought from the store. He showed up to just be there for him. 👉👈🥺 The whole spideypool relationship in this fic is amazing, I adore it so much!

This. This!

“Okay,” he says, “I’m here. This time. Next time.”

Ummmm, I feel the need to repeat myself, the voices were really pulling no punches. Every thought about Marc, was like twisting the dagger or fuckin pouring salt into a open wound type of painful. It stings and it aches and I just wanna cry. Every single 'Marc's dead' hurt.

I was torn between the tiny relief of Wade having Spidey as such a good friend and the inner torment and turmoil of his voices. That is truly the magnificence of your writing. I just feel so many things at once. So many emotions!

The whole reunion with Steven is drenched in bittersweetness. Wade getting to see him again and be with him again is wonderful but there's the lurking and lingering dread of not knowing what happened with Marc after he left.

It's all a tangled mess with everything that has happened,

This

His hands slide to Wade’s chest, and he likes to just, just touch like that, not Marc’s tight-fingered clinging. Fuck, fuck, Wade misses Marc. “Love,” Steven’s voice is softer now, concerned. “Are you alright? I feel like all of this has been… a lot.”

Wade sighs out a slow breath, and it’s okay, with Steven, to be quiet, to need a moment; he watches Wade without needing anything, as Wade pets through Steven’s curls and tries to find a way to pull himself together where the sharp edges don’t hurt.

I am almost speechless with how that twists my heart, in the worst and best ways.

And This!

It doesn’t take long, for Wade’s least-favorite god to reappear.

100000% right there with you Wade. Also Steve standing up to Khonshu made my whole year.

Now…..chapter eight.

Not even two seconds into it and I am being attacked. Steven is sad. Wade is sad. We are all sad. Still going through it as usual. Steven crying himself to sleep? Wade taking on risky jobs? Excuse me while I go scream.

The slightest sliver of relief in the form of the bit of routine and domesticity Steven and Wade have together. The simple thought of Steven enjoying his favorite cookies from his favorite vegan bakery while Wade is working through the menu (also the documentaries they watch together.)

It's the small things that resonate the deepest.

Annnnddd then I am thrown back to the wolves as Layla visits. Wade is spiraling and Steven is trying his best. Reading this fic feels like at any moment I could insert the : honey you got a big storm coming gif and it would be completely accurate.

I felt like I couldn't breathe the whole scene with Wade sobbing in the bathroom and Steven coming to be with him and trying to help.

“She’s not here, love,” Steven says

he moves to sit beside Wade, and he takes Wade’s hand in his; the feeling of his thumbs stroking over the back of Wade’s hand just makes Wade sob harder.

It's truly the way that Wade is love for Steven and Baby for Marc that gives me so much joy. Despite all this pain.

“No one’s mad at you, baby.” Marc, that’s Marc, how is that Marc? Marc’s dead, Marc’s dead –

The way that Marc coming back for Wade had me screaming, shaking, sobbing….Them just sitting together and Marc understanding and knowing what Wade needed in that moment. It was perfect.

And just the ending in general?

How didn’t Wade see it before? Marc never actually wanted proof Wade knew he wasn’t Steven, that’s not all it was. He wanted Wade to want him. Flowers that said I miss Steven broke his heart because they were saying, in a language the Victorians used for things too soft to say aloud and never meant for this, I wish he was here instead of you. The florist Wade single-handedly keeps in business will never have to order pink camelias again, because Wade never wants to be saying that.

Love is a moon in Wade’s coffee cup because Wade doesn’t have to miss either Steven or Marc; the moon leaves, but it always comes back. Wade is the night sky – dark every night, so the moon knows it’s time to come home.

I absolutely, wholeheartedly adore that fic, start to finish. Everything about it. Literally all of these tasks were written like mini essays to express my love, re-read the chapters and finding what I wanted to gush to you about the most. Which honestly is every single sentence, every paragraph but I managed to control myself.

I am so excited for the sequel! I will say it again, ily and your writing sm! You are genuinely one of my favorite writers, I am just so happy I discovered you and I get to read your fics.

And I will stop being such a fangirl. For now. This got long, sorry.

On a final note, I hope you are doing good and having a good day/night!

bestieeeee when i tell you this made my whole night!!!!!!

firstly spideypool is!! i love them!! i love that we've all kindly overlooked the whoops that is peter apparently UP AND MOVING TO LONDON for wade also, a fact i noticed the other day, oops. best friends for life, peter, the real mvp over here.

we are all!! collectively!! so sad!!!! (which is great cos it gets us in the perfect mindset for the ~sequel~)

also fun fact the bakery is a real london bakery because of course i google these things while stuck on a chapter. the candy shop was a real shop, the vegan chinese restaurant's menu is, i am a busy procrastinator . (also if you like their adorable routine domestic life well GUESS WHAT THE SEQUEL HAS, i'm so excited)

ily thank you so so so much for these asks i sooooo look forward to them and then i get amped up all over again for the next chapter, no lie this is my FAVORITE part of this fic <33333 you are the B E S T and i hope you like the sequel cos oh man are we in for it, turns out jake is SAD, jake is SO SO SAD (i of no restraint have posted it because IM JUST SO EXCITED AAAAH JAKE)

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alicienacorvin · 2 years

Text

Fruit Basket 1

Apple's leg ached in a way that was tough to explain to anyone. It would make sense if her barely healed muscles hurt or the tendons that were only just still clinging on. It wasn't either of those, though. It was the bone itself, the joint specifically. That rat's nest of bone puzzle pieces the chirurgeons had painstakingly arranged was the source of her pain, a deep unrelenting ache from inside the joint itself. There was nothing to do about it, no massage or heat or compress could seem to abate it. All there was to do was to prop it up and wait and try not to cry.

It wasn't just the pain that made her want to sob quietly in her own home, it was the helplessness on top of it. The relentlessness as well. She'd been injured before, of course. She'd been stabbed, shot with arrows, hit with magic, all the standard things a mercenary went through. Those had felt different, more immediate and also more temporary. This felt...not distant, that wasn't the right word. It felt like it was behind her, not in front of her, not a thing she was facing down but a thing she was being followed by and had no way to stop it.

"Bothering you again?" Cherry asked, her head appearing around the corner that led back to the bedroom.

Apple glanced up at the face that mirrored her own, save for the different hair and the tattoo across one cheek. "Yeah, I think there's a storm coming in."

"Probably wasn't the best thing to move to a place where it rains all the time if it fucks with your leg," Cherry said as she stepped into the room, moving into the little kitchen attached to it. "Let me make you some tea."

"I didn't know it was going to be a problem," Apple retorted. "And tea doesn't help."

Cherry was already getting the pot set to boil and gathering up the usual necessities. "Mine will. It has drugs in it."

"It has--drugs? Where did you get drugs? When?" Apple asked, shooting her sister a confused look.

"When I went to Ul'dah," Cherry replied with a shrug.

"Why were you in Ul'dah?"

"To get drugs."

Apple ran a hand down her face. "Alright, first off, why? What did you needs drugs for? And second, we're right outside Gridania! They grow so many different sorts."

"Yeah, but I don't know what any of them are. I wanted something familiar," Cherry said nonchalantly. "And what do you mean why? To have fun. You remember fun, Apple? You used to be fun."

Apple shot her sister a withering glare. "I'm sorry that I'm less fun after nearly getting my leg cut off."

"Don't be stupid. The only thing that did was manage to make you an even worse fighter than you used to be," Cherry said with a scoff. "What made you less fun is whatever's happening with that woman."

"Fuck you," Apple muttered, knowing exactly where the conversation was headed.

"And that's how I know I'm right," Cherry said, a smug smile on her lips. "Speaking of fucking, you mind vacating the apartment for, say, I dunno, five or six hours this afternoon?"

"Absolutely not. What the hells, Cherry? Can't you ever find women who have a place of their own?"

Cherry shrugged. "You're just jealous I'm getting more action in your apartment than you ever have."

"It's going to be an extremely slow chase, but I will eventually catch you and strangle you," Apple hissed. "Why did I let you stay here?"

"Because you love me," Cherry said simply. "Which, you know, I figured I was gonna be the only person you ever loved. The fact you fell for someone all romantically is probably the thing I never guessed happening. How'd you get so soft?"

Apple fumed quietly on the couch for a few moments, but the question raised something in her mind that she always tried not to dwell on. Not the question itself, not the perceived softness her sister saw, but the image of soft, kind eyes. The memory of a gentle touch on her face, her chest, her leg. Watching careful pale green fingers lace up her boot for her. A sandwich, torn in half, one part passed over to her. The taste of salt and cucumbers on timid lips. The warmth of a body clinging to her, shivering with laughter.

"You'd understand if someone smiled at you the way she smiled at me," was all Apple could find the words for.

"Write her," Cherry said.

Apple nodded slowly. "Maybe."

A usual, comfortable silence fell between the two, knowing the conversation was done. They knew each other better than most people would ever know anyone else, knew the tones and body language that conveyed more than words. Even their silence with each other was filled with something no one else knew. Except, Apple though, maybe one other person. A woman with pale green skin and warm eyes and a wide smile whose hand fit so perfect in Apple's own.

Cherry carried the tea out to her when it was done and Apple held it between her hands for a long time. She stared out the window as the rain arrived, pattering softly against the glass. Pattering away like the eager words of the woman who haunted Apple's thoughts. She sipped her tea.

The drugs did help.

#ffxiv #drabble #fruit basket #diligent apple #serene cherry #roegadyn

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ray-ray-writings · 3 years

Note

Could I totally request a small angst of a reader who is dating Technoblade suddenly going missing only for everyone to find her weeks later in Dreams collection room, similar to how Dream has a cage for Skeppy? Cause it’s the one thing the blood god cares about? Like all the angst and grief Techno goes through trying to find her and how he just becomes more unhinged or maybe Dream taunting him once they all found out like “do you want to know exactly how long it took her to stop calling for you? Do you want to know the exact moment she gave up ever seeing you again? Do you want to know the exact second she became mine to control instead of yours to love?”

Ever with love - 🌻

🌻, your brain is so big. I love your ideas so much, they’re always so flipping good.

A Part of the Collection-Technoblade x gn!reader

Techno was going crazy.

No one had heard or seen you for two weeks. You told him you were going to visit the nearby village and that you’d be back in a few days. For the first few days, Techno and you chatted consistently through your communicators. But then you stopped responding to his messages.

After two days with no response, Techno himself made his way to the village to search for you. You’re not there. The villagers tell him that you had got what you went there for but that you had left a few days prior. With this information, Techno calculates that your messages stopped when you got about halfway back home.

He thanks the villagers before heading back out. He heads to the main area of the SMP and asks around. He literally questions everyone as to whether or not they’ve seen you.

It’s no’s at every turn.

It takes everything Techno has to hold himself back. To not storm into each and everyone’s home and property and tear it apart in search of you. He does force his way inside everyone’s home to “talk” to them. Most people just let him in and do what he needs, well aware of the situation and the worries at hand.

Especially with the upcoming plan.

Techno forgot about the plan. Forgot about the help that his younger brother was soon going to need as he and Tubbo came to face Dream in what was being referred to as ‘the final showdown.’ He has to be there to help take down Dream. He’s the best PVPer on the SMP, he knows that, everyone knows that. He’s the Blood God after all. He takes care of those he loves, would go to the ends of the earth to protect them, and Tommy needed protecting.

The choice for him was hard. Techno knew that while everyone was busy with Dream, he could do a more thorough search through everything to try and find you. But he also knew he needed to be there to protect his brother. His baby brother that was on his last cannon life that Techno knew Dream would do anything to take.

It tore him up inside ,which in turn caused him to tear things up. The house looked like a tornado went through it. Techno had been spiraling the night before the final battle. He was angry. Angry at you for not coming home or answering his messages, angry at himself for not being able to find you and make sure you were safe. Angry at not being able to protect you and take care of you. Angry that he let you go by yourself even though you very clearly wanted him to come with you. Angry that he can’t find you and that no one knew where you were. Angry that he had made a promise to his little brother and that he had to be at the final battle instead of out searching for you.

All of that anger built up inside of him and burst. The outcome was his knocking chests over, spilling their contents onto the ground. The paintings on the walls were slightly crooked and torn due to his rampage. The furniture was misplaced and books were strewn about the room.

Heavy breaths racked his chest as his ruby eyes scanned the destroyed rooms. A heavy weight sat in his heart and his stomach. Guilt quickly replaced the anger inside him as he collapsed to his knees. His hands reach out and connect with the ground in order to steady himself. His fingers clutch at a fabric spilled from one of the chests.

It’s your old cape. The one you wore before you stole his cape. It looked better on you anyway. Techno brings the cape up to him and nuzzles his face into the fabric, trying to find a slight bit of comfort in it. It still smells like you. Being tucked away for so long hadn’t let it lose the piece of you that usually clings to the fabrics you wear.

Your scent calmed him, only slightly though. He still felt guilty, but with this small piece of fabric, he could pretend you were here, tucked into him, safe.

It was cold.

Being underground, surrounded by obsidian, trapped in a hole by iron bars made things cold. You were exhausted. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there. Been in Dream’s collection room. Dream had explained it to you when you woke up. You were the most important thing to Techno, the only thing he was attached to.

You tried to call out for him. You first thought you were somewhere near the SMP, hoping either he would hear you or someone else would hear you and tell him… then Dream told you where you were. It didn’t stop you calling out for him though. You called for him until your throat was raw and sore. But even after, you were stubborn in your resolve. Telling Dream that he would never get away with this.

“That’s the thing my dear… I already have. No one has seen you since you left the village. No one knows what happened to you and no one knows where you are. You simply… have disappeared.”

His words hurt you. They worried you. He was right. He had kidnapped you while you were on your way back from the village. He had your communicator. You were gone. No one knew where you were. Did they even care you were gone? You tried to hold up your resolve, but Dream’s words hit your head hard, and he knew it. The blond simply smirked after watching you for a moment before walking away and leaving you to your spiraling thoughts.

You were exhausted. Your mind was tired, your emotions depleted, your body sore. Everything hurt. You missed Techno more than anything. Your heart ached more and more with each passing day. Did they even care or notice you were gone? Did Techno miss you too? Was he looking for you?

A voice broke you out of your thoughts. For a moment you thought it to be Dream, coming back to taunt you more… But it wasn’t. It was a familiar voice, one you hadn’t heard in a while. But you would be able to tell who that voice belonged to anywhere.

It was Tommy.

Why is Tommy here?

You manage to make it to your feet and stumble forward, catching yourself on the iron bars. You pressed your cheek against them and looked out as far as you could. You could make out three bodies there. Tommy, Dream… and… Tubbo. The third seemed to be Tubbo.

Why? Why were they here? What is going on?

The three then turned and began walking toward you. As they drew closer, you could hear Dream giving the boys the same spiel he had given you about the server’s attachments. The things people cared about more than anything.

“Tommy! Tubbo!” You couldn’t help but croak out, your hand reaching out of the cell.

“Y/N!” The boys both scream in unison, racing toward you. Tommy’s hand grabs yours and you almost cry at the warm contact. You’ve been in here for what felt like forever. You hadn’t had any friendly touch, let alone any warmth. It felt nice to be seen as a friend again and to see a friend.

Before any of you can say anything, Dream’s hands clamp on the shoulders of the two boys and rip them away from you. A dry sob escapes your throat at the loss of contact. “No touching.” Dream barks, forcing them back down the hall and away from you.

“Please,” you beg, wanting just a bit longer to be with them. But Dream ignores you and continues to walk away. Tommy and Tubbo try to fight, to turn around and come back to you, but they can’t. Dream’s grip is too tight and too strong.

You’re left all alone yet again. Small tears begin to stream down your cheeks as you back up again, your back hitting the wall, and sliding down to a sitting position. You can vaguely hear what’s going on in the other room, but not very well. Everything seems so far away. To get a glimpse of the outside world through another person only to have it ripped away from you just as you get a taste takes a toll on a person, especially one as exhausted as you.

You’re zoned out for the most part, just hoping Tommy and Tubbo would be okay. You’re suddenly brought back to reality though when a lot of footsteps and voices joined you in the underground. It was hard, but once again you manage to stand up and brace yourself against the iron bars. Pressing your cheek to the cool metal, you let out a gasp as you can see everyone. It’s everyone. Everyone in the SMP was there.

Your eyes scanned the crowd and caught on the familiar pink hair of your boyfriend. You could sob. If you weren’t so exhausted you would be already. He had come for you. He was there. Techno was there.

You couldn’t exactly tell what was going on, but you didn’t care. Your heart soared as mostly everyone turned around to face the collections hall and begin making their way down it.

Puffy led the pack and was the first to see you. A gasp ripped from her throat as her eyes met yours. Heads turn to look toward her and more gasps sounded in the room. “Y/N,” the Captain breathes out just above a whisper.

You’re about to respond when another voice interrupts you. “Y/N?” Techno shoves his way to the front, pushing people out of the way, not caring enough to ask them to move. He comes to a full stop in front of you and stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you croak out.

Techno takes a step back and you’re hurt. Why is he moving away from you? Does he not want you anymore? Why would he--

Your thoughts are cut off by the sound of iron breaking. Something that would typically take four or five swings, is broken in just one by your boyfriend Techno. The bars are gone. You’re free. Techno tosses the pickaxe back into his inventory and stalks forward. Before you can do or say anything, you’re being pressed into Techno’s chest.

The warmth from him immediately seeps into your skin and floods through your whole body. Techno always tends to run hot, being part piglin does that, but you’ve never been more thankful for it than right now. You nuzzle your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly.

He holds you the same way. Techno is scared that if you were to pull away, you would disappear again. That he would be alone again. He doesn’t want to be without you. Techno presses you close to his chest, and presses his face into the top of your head. His lips give your head sweet kisses as he revels in the fact that you’re safe now. You’re safe with him.

You two are hugging like that for a while, but all too soon it’s time to go. You want to get home, change clothes, get something to eat, and fall asleep next to your lover. Techno lets go of the hug, but immediately grabs your hand and leads you out of the cell. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you tightly to his side. The two of you walk out into the main room together… Just in time to see Dream being led away by Sam.

Dream smirks at the sight of you. “You know… of all of the attachments I gathered, I’ve got to say, collecting them was my favorite. The others didn't know what was happening. Being inanimate or an animal… A pet. But they were your pet. They could talk. And oh boy did they talk.”

Techno’s jaw clenched as Dream spoke. He just wanted the green clad bastard to shut up and go to prison, but he just kept talking. “They called for you. Their screams echoed off of the obsidian, begging for you to come save them but you never showed… Do you want to know?”

Techno knew he shouldn’t get involved, shouldn’t respond and give him what he wanted, but he couldn’t help himself. “Know what?”

“Do you want to know exactly how long it took for them to stop calling for you? Do you want to know the exact moment they gave up ever seeing you again? Do you want to know the exact second they became mine to control instead of yours to love?”

Techno’s jaw clenched even harder. He saw red. Without realizing it, he left your side. His arm unwrapped from around you, causing you to protest and try to hold on to him, but he was too far gone. Techno marched forward, drew his fist back, and punched Dream square in the face. The smirk from Dream’s lips fell as Techno’s punches began rolling in faster and harder.

Techno was livid. Livid that Dream could even think that for a moment that he had any say over you and what you did. That you were anything other than the one he loves and the one that loves him. You were his. No one else’s. His.

Sam was the one to pull Techno off, but he fought it. Dream just lost two cannon lives, Techno wanted to take the third. Techno fought against Sam tooth and nail, trying desperately to continue. It’s not until he feels a gentle hand on his arm does he stop. The touch is familiar, one he’s been missing for weeks now.

It’s yours.

He stops fighting the creeper hybrid and turns to you. Your big, watery eyes meet his and he immediately feels all the anger leave his body. The voices that were screaming to kill a moment ago suddenly switch their tune, telling him to protect you, take care of you, wrap you in his arms and not let go until you got home.

That’s just what he does.

Without another word, Techno scoops you into his arms bridal style. He then walks to the portal and with a small nod to the rest of the group, disappears into the nether. You’re in his arms the entire journey through the nether and the nether portal near your guys’ shared home. The warmth of the hug paired with the warmth of Techno’s body fills your whole body and causes your toes to curl.

The tundra is freezing and immediately depletes a lot of the warmth you had just gained, but Techno is quick to wrap his cape around you and make haste to get you inside. The house is still a mess, you’re about to ask why when you catch sight of the paintings that were torn by his hand, and you immediately understand. So you choose to say nothing and just enjoy when Techno carries you into your room.

He sets you down and helps you change into clean and warm clothes before helping you crawl into bed. Techno wraps the two of you up in the blankets before pulling you close to him. Your head and hands rest on his chest while his arms wrap around you and rest on your back. Soft patterns are traced on your back, lulling you to sleep.

“I love you. I love you so much. You’re not going anywhere without me ever again.”

You know that that’s physically impossible and that there would be times he wouldn’t be able to go with you, but right now that didn’t matter. You nod against his chest. “I love you too. Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, my love. I’m right here.”

You let out a small sigh and sink into him even more at the comforting words. The past couple of weeks exhaustion wash over you and you fall asleep before you know it.

Techno stays awake for longer though. He stays awake and just watches you. His eyes study your face and his arms tighten around you. You’re here. You’re in his arms. You’re safe. He repeats that mantra to himself over and over again as he looks you over.

Finally he decides he’s too tired to stay awake, the past two weeks also having taken a huge toll on his mental and physical health. Techno’s arms wrap around you a bit tighter and hold you a bit closer. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then your head before settling in for the night. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath in through his nose, inhaling your scent which makes him relax even more.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you… You’re mine. I’ve got you.”

Ending sucked, but the idea was amazing so praise 🌻 because she deserves it. I hope that I did this justice! Thank you so much for letting me write it!!

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

collab masterlist

✧ pairing: villain!hawks x afab!reader

✧ word count: 5k

✧ warnings: this is like all smut, angst, ambiguous but happy ending, unhealthy relationships, mentions of transactional sex, reader has a healing quirk but it's really just for poetic purposes, reader has a vagina, no other gendered parts, oral sex (reader receiving), vague metaphorical drug reference, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mating press, soft sex (?), sorta, slight potential could be read as dubcon but they're both into it

✧ summary: for years you've stitched hawks back together when the world has torn him to shreds—and he always pays you back, though you can't help but start want more than he can give you.

✧ a/n: hey y'all this months theme was villain/hero swap with a shared opener! please go check out all the other wonderful works in this collab, there are so many talented writers/artists involved!! credit to @/lady-bakuhoe for the amazing intro. also bonus points if you catch the old aesthetic tumblr post references.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

***

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

That fact is made even more horrifically apparent as he stumbles through your open window—and how long has it been since you’ve slept with it closed?—dripping with blood and panting from his flight.

The T.V. blares in the background, filling your tiny apartment with incessant ramblings that only grow louder by the day, and you already know what they’re going to say before they say it. Because you see him, before the reporters stumble upon heroes in the wreckage—you see what they do to him before they’re warning the public of dangerous villains loose in the streets.

They spout off about failing heroes but you think they’ve done a pretty damn good butchers job. Red feathers matted together, sticky and brown, fall in tufts from his back. You burn with shameful jealousy at the thought of those who would call themselves heroes having laid hands on what is yours.

He isn’t really yours and you know that, though you often wish you could be a bit more delusional. It might not hurt so much then.

They call him a villain. They call him a threat to society.

But even faced with the truth spilling from him and onto your creaking floors, it is easy to forget what a ruthless predator the man before you becomes when he leaves these four walls.

Especially as he falls forward on heavy feet straight into your arms, outstretched and waiting. There are stains on your shirt but you’ve known the secret for getting blood out of clothing for years now. Cold water for the fabric, warm to wash away the grime on his lovely skin.

“Gonna need you to fix me up again, sweetheart,” Hawks mumbles into your shoulder where his forehead rests.

His breathing is even more ragged now, not just from the flight.

“I know,” you reply and your hands shake when they find the gaping wound at his side—wide and deeper than the ones before. “I know. Can you walk?”

He doesn’t respond but that mop of golden hair shifts a bit as he slings an arm over your shoulder and rests his weight. You don’t need to direct him to your bedroom. This is an old game you’re playing and he knows the steps.

So do you.

Though, you’re never sure if it's dread that fills you and makes your stomach knot and your knees weak. Or if it’s that awful, momentary rush of excitement at the prospect of being able to run your fingers over him, bare and giving you free reign.

As long as he’s bleeding out on your floor.

Then you can feel him.

When he’s dying and needs you.

Needs you to fix him.

But won’t ever let you close enough to finish the job the way you want to.

You comfort yourself in with the knowledge that at least he lets you this close. At least those thin, silver-skin scars are the unmistakable mark of your healing hands. At least you’ll always haunt him like the red feather down that sticks to your pillows or between your floorboards.

So you strip him carefully and try not to let his sculpted chest distract you from the work. Hawks is silent, such a model patient as always. Only grunting when your fingers move to knit together the ragged edges of his flesh.

This will leave a nasty mark, you know it already. But you can’t find it in yourself to mourn the loss of that lovely skin.

It will only make it harder for him to forget you.

You’re knelt beside him, laid out on a towel you keep at the edge of the bed. Blood will soak through to the sheets regardless, but you try your best. He takes a sharp breath, white teeth catching the back of his hand between them to stifle groans.

You wish there was more pleasure to it. That he was biting back moans for you instead of trying not to scream as his flesh pulsed and grew hot while it was rebuilt under your fingertips. So you indulge, pretend your hands are elsewhere, roaming his perfect waistline and pulling whimpers from him.

Your dangerous, villainous, predator Hawks sprawled on his back, wings spread and cumming onto his chest under you.

The sounds above you change, and you know it hurts—must be excruciating as bone is set back into place—but you chose to believe it’s because he’s trying to keep himself from screaming your name as he reaches his release.

Hawks, you’d croon to him—Hawks because you don’t know his real name. Don’t know who he was before he started this underground life of crime on the fringes of a society that called him a monster and then turned him into one.

He isn’t a monster in your bed, though he may cry like one.

Cry as you mold his flesh and try not to look him in the face. Try to pretend they are an overflow of some better emotion. And when those summer wheat field eyes roll back in his head and those horrible pretty noises stop, you push past the growing ache in your limbs until the skin under your palms is smooth and no longer leaking thick, red blood.

And you do your best to resist the itch to feel more of him while he can’t stop you. Even with your fingers numb from overexertion, you can’t help but fall back on your heels and long for the feeling of his cheek in your hand, or his chest on your face.

But your part of the transaction is done.

And your permission doesn’t extend past these limits.

And it pains you to wish harm on him.

But it hurts even more when he does not need you.

So you sit and hate yourself and hope that those heroes with their disgusting philosophies get their shit together just a bit more. So you won’t lose your purpose. So he’ll keep coming through your window, permanently open through rainstorms and snow and spring heat.

Hawks’ breath evens slowly, and you stay still as a watched painting—no shifting eyes or moving limbs.

You crave these times like water or warm food—constant and instinctively.

And this is the only time you’ll ever have them, hands so filled with pinpricks of fried nerves that you can barely feel the soft, relaxed muscle beneath them.

What a tragedy.

What an injustice—

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

***

“Hmm,” he groans, sitting up and wincing as the new flesh protests under his movements.

“You should rest for a bit longer.”

Hawks looks at you, stretched next to him on the mattress—a purposeful few inches of space left between your bodies. It’s both selfish and practical advice.

But he isn’t here for that kind of help.

“You know I can’t just be sittin’ on my ass,” he quips, flashing you that eyes closed, wide smirk that sets your heart hammering in your chest. “Can’t have anyone tracing me back here.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you don’t find it in yourself to give the words any bite, “but you were just actively bleeding out a few minutes ago.”

“Sure, but that was a few minutes ago,” he winks and you can already feel the bed shifting as he moves to settle himself over your hips, one toned thigh on either side to bracket you against the bed. “Now, let me pay you back for all that hard work, yeah sweetheart?”

You wish the way he peered up through those long lashes, gold eyes honed in on you like a piece of meat on a hook, didn’t make your face burn this much.

It doesn’t mean anything to him.

Because this arrangement really is transactional—so you have to get something out of it too. At least, that’s what he tells himself, you think. He doesn’t know that those scant few moments you hold his life between your fingers is more than enough payment.

It’s been this way since the very first time you stumbled across him, half dead in an alley. But then you think it might have just been a ‘heat of the moment’ sort of thing that had just stuck.

You heal him and he makes you writhe on the sheets with his tongue and his hands, until you're fucked into unconscious bliss and he can slip away without your prying eyes watching him go.

But you still aren’t allowed to touch Hawks, even when he reaches into those deep parts of you and molds them to fit only him.

“You don’t—” you start to protest, partly because you want to believe you don’t want it and partly because you want to hear him insist that he does.

“Shh,” Hawks presses a calloused finger to your mouth and it takes every ounce of strength not to suck it past your lips. “I don’t like leaving my debts unpaid.”

That’s the end of your determination for the night. So you try to relax into his touch as slides your bottoms off and tosses them to the floor. Try not to clench up under those fingers that spread your legs. He doesn’t like it when you squirm away, when you flinch from his hands.

You want to think it’s because he hopes you aren’t afraid of him—of what he is—like the rest are, and not because he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You want to.

But he’s so hard to read, and your mind is not often a kind place.

“Mm, god I’m always so hungry after you patch me up baby,” Hawks licks his lips as he stares down at you. “You won’t mind if I eat you right?”

You cringe at how fast your head shakes.

“Mm, course you wouldn’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s right though you resent it a bit that he’s got you pegged so easily.

But you’re weak, you’re no villain, you’re no hero.

And so you’ll never be able to resist him. But, damn, did you wish you had a name to cry out. Then at the very least, you could keep a part of him with you too. Then you’d have some to moan on the nights he goes uninjured and you have to bring yourself to lonely release, only thinking of him.

Of those wings spread above you like a burning, red sunset, obscuring the rest of the world from view with his blinding light.

“Hawks…” you hiss instead as he shifts your legs over his shoulders and lays his tender chest on the sheets. “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s it gonna be tonight then?” he asks, breath ghosting over the damp folds between your thighs.

“Thought you said you were gonna use your tongue,” you whine, impatient now for any scrap of attention he’s willing to give.

“If that’s what you want,” he presses a kiss into the crease of your leg and hip, nipping the delicate skin so you whine again. “It’s whatever you want, you know that.”

It isn’t though.

It’s not whatever you want.

You can pick the position, you can ask for his mouth or his fingers, but even then, they won’t go past your neck. Your hands must stay firmly knotted in the comforter and away from him while he works. Cause he is working. This is part of the job to him, it's only in your fantasies that he’s doing it simply for the hell of it.

Hawks nudges your embarrassingly soaked slit with his nose and hums at you, “So is that what you want? Want me to eat your pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes—ngh,” you don’t get much in past the confirmation.

He’s a busy man.

He doesn’t have time for your stupid, romantic day dreams.

So he dives right in, and it’s enthusiastic enough that you can convince yourself he simply wants you that badly.

Hawks tongue licks a long strip from your hole to your clit and sucks the little bud past his plush lips. They’re a lovely, soft pink against your skin and they make a mess of you in seconds. He starts up an even rhythm, drawing circles into the nerves that sing and have heat building up in you only seconds after he’s started.

You hate that you love how well he knows your body.

You hate that you only know his when it’s shutting down.

“You taste so good, you know that?” he mumbles, lapping at you and kneading your thighs. “Could live down here just drinking you every fucking day.”

He doesn’t always talk like that but you’re happy he is now. It distracts you from the deep, ingrained urge to yank him by the hair and taste yourself on his lips.

“Makes me wish I’d let those damn heroes get hits in more often,” he’s back to panting and you keen at the sound. “Want my fingers too?”

“Fuck yes,” you don’t even bother hiding the desperation anymore.

He deserves the boost to his ego. You’d shower him with praise if he’d let you, bathe him in warm words and press them into his skin with your tongue.

But he doesn’t let you.

Hawks’ hand on your thigh trails slowly against the sensitive skin until he’s pulling back to run his fingers through your folds to ease the stretch a bit as he pushes two inside. He knows you can take what he gives to you, knows you love the way he fills you up.

Your tingling hands ache to grab his head and force his lips back as he sits for a moment, eyes glued on the space where his fingers disappear into your body. He groans low at the wet sounds your bodies make at their joining. Your legs shake where they rest on him, the one other point of contact he’s allowed. Those deadly soft feathers brush your calves as he curls his fingers up and waits expectantly for the strangled cry he pulls from you.

“There it is,” his voice is so much lower when he speaks now. “Can’t exactly show you the real ones, but how ‘bout you let me make you see some stars, huh?”

He asks so much of you. So much. So often.

In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever actively asked him for a thing he hadn’t already offered in the few years you’d known him. Hawks does it all—the taking and the giving and the demanding.

And you’re simply along for the ride, holding on for dear life lest he drop you, let you plummet like rock to the barren ground.

Still, you are mortal and you crave and you will take what you can get.

“Mhm,” you whimper when his deft fingers increase their pace, not thrusting but grinding mercilessly into that delicious spot inside.

“You wanna cum now, sweet thing?”

Then, true to his villainous nature, Hawks latches his lips back onto your clit, wracking your body with waves of truly sinful pleasure. His tongue draws quick, perfect circles across the bud just how you like. You’ll never know why it feels so much better when it’s him touching you.

How he knows exactly what you want.

Most of it.

Then his other hand is reaching around your hip, thumb taking over to press down where his tongue had been. Panting for the third time, his gorgeous head rests on your thigh and he stares dead on into your eyes. That predator yellow gaze pins you to the pillows better than any hand could and he licks across his lips while you watch, moaning as he tastes you there.

You groan deep and unabashedly at the sight.

“What is it?” he’s teasing you, unable to keep that part of his cruelty hidden even now. “What do you want?”

You shake your head and wish you could turn away, flop against the mattress and writhe but you can’t. You just can’t give up this moment that’s etching itself into your retinas—like you’re staring head on at an eclipse, celestial and short-lived.

“Tell me,” Hawks whispers, nipping at your thigh and working his fingers harder on you. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”

And maybe it’s the sudden heat of the room, or the little breeze from his wings spreading defensively to block you from view of his nonexistent audience—the outside world maybe? To keep you, this secret indulgence, hidden from their prying hands. Or quite possibly it’s just your own weakness at the feet of years and years of loving—because you do, you love him, it’s clear by now that’s what this is—this man whose name you don’t know and whose eyes never seem to leave you even when he’s gone.

Maybe you simply crack under the pressure of keeping this awful, looming silence for too long.

You feel your lips split at the seams and it all comes rushing out in a polluted flood—a stagnant river of secrets.

“Let me touch you,” you gasp and close your eyes then just so you won’t have to see that grin slip from his beautiful face. “Please Hawks, let me touch you. I can’t do it anymore, just—I need to kiss you, I need more.”

All this time he hadn’t let up on pulling pleasure from your skin, but he stops now, bringing your release to a screaming halt.

The quiet that follows—devoid of fast breaths and wet slapping—is suffocating.

You wish you regretted the outburst, the waste of years worth of work to keep him coming back.

But you don’t.

Of course you will in a minute, when he slips away and doesn’t return.

But now it just feels as though that boulder of secrecy has been lifted off your chest and you can finally take in lungfuls of sweet, unhindered night air.

It’s only after that dreadful minute has passed and there are still hands on you—buried in you—that you dare to open your eyes again.

Hawks is staring blankly, an expression you’ve never seen before, so stark from the usual quirk of his lips and tilt of his chin. Blank, but calculating. You can see the gears clanking as his thoughts rush a mile a minute, faster than he’d ever dream of soaring over the city skyline.

He blinks once, twice, then again and you can see the redness blooming at the corners as his eyes grow glassy between each flutter of lashes. And then, as though moving through honey, he draws back from you, only to crawl up your body until your noses touch.

You hold your breath, lip caught between your teeth, but his slicked thumb comes up to pull it out of your gnawing reach. He strokes across the puffy skin, never meeting your gaze, until he slowly, slowly leans down.

It’s not really a kiss, more of an accidental brush, so little of your lips touch you could easily have imagined it. When he speaks again, you can feel him forming the words against you.

“I—” he starts and licks his lips and yours and you don’t think it’s an accident, “I can’t.”

It isn’t what you want him to say, but it’s better than a silent loss .

You know truth when you hear it.

“I know.”

And you do, you do know, you’ve always known. He’s darker when he’s not with you. You’ve seen the carnage he leaves behind broadcasted on screens, but it’s never stopped the ache before.

He can’t keep you the way you want, can’t have things that get in the way.

You can only touch him when he’s dying. You can heal him, reform his flesh and bone—pull him back from the brink—but you’ll never feel his chest against yours or his hair slipping through your fingers or have all of him buried inside you. He’ll never love you like you want him to.

It doesn’t stop you from wishing.

And apparently, it doesn’t stop Hawks from kissing you anyway.

“I can’t,” he repeats and it sounds so broken you almost think that wound has reopened and he’s going to start slipping away again.

But the only thing that slips is his tongue past your lips and tangling with your own.

And then the levee breaks.

It’s a sudden torrent of hands and legs knotting together like the torn edges of too many injuries. Hawks covers every available part of you like an addict seeking his fix. It’s breathless and uncoordinated but you’ve never felt more alive, alight, aflame.

He presses his lips to yours again, pulling away and then diving back in. Frantic hands pull you off the mattress until your back is against the headboard and he’s straddling your lap. You take the opportunity to sink your fingers into that goldenrod hair and it’s just as silky as you’d imagined it to be.

Hawks moans into your mouth, kissing you wildly, like the beast he is with teeth clacking and your tongue sucked between his lips.

“I can’t,” he keeps mumbling, between groans and hips grinding and hands grabbing, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t— “

You wonder then which one of you he’s trying to convince.

But you don’t ask, just let your hands wander to the delicious curve of his ass on your thighs and squeeze, rolling his bulge against you. His fingers push and proud, ghosting across your chest and stopping to pinch your nipple. He drinks down the whimpers you let out, letting his lips wander your jaw and throat, sucking bruises—leaving his own scars on you—as he goes. He pushes you back down to the pillows so his lips can continue their work, latching onto the quickly hardening bud and suckling lightly. His groan sends little shockwaves through you and he looks up with brows furrowed like he’s in pain with how good it all feels.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s so soft you barely hear it between licks at your chest.

“No,” you finally find it in you to respond, shaking your head and pulling him back to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says again while you nip at his earlobe and down his jaw, tight pants yielding under your hands as they’re tugged away so he’s just as bare as you.

“No,” you shake your head and any response dies on his tongue as you dig your fingers into the feathers at the base of his wings and pull him forward.

Hawks lets out a choked gasp as his length, bare, hard, and leaking glides across your cunt. Any other time, you’d have liked to savor this moment. Get on your knees and worship his pretty cock—and you know it's pretty, just from your short glimpse. He’s long and perfectly thick, just how you dreamed he would be. The cute tuft of blond curls at his base is course in the best way as you trail your fingers through it to take him in your palm.

“Ahh,” he keens, arching above you with his head thrown back as you stroke him for the first time.

It’s been so long, you're not sure how you ever resisted this before. Not with how heavy and warm he is in your fist.

“Hawks,” you moan, sucking at the dip in his collarbone and moving to bite at his nipple. “Hawks, please.”

“I—” you think he might protest but you flick your thumb over the tip and it pours precum to help the slide of your fingers.

He’s already got those powerful arms hooked under your knees, all he has to do is lean forward and sink into that tight, awaiting heat, and he knows it. You can see the resolve cracking.

“Hawks,” you beg again. Because you are begging, that’s what this is.

And he looks at you, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and brows all bunched up with his head shaking.

“Hawks.”

His hands grip the underside of your thighs and knock your hand from his dick.

“Hawks.”

His forehead comes down to rest against yours, eyes squeezed shut and red at the edges. You feel the sting at the corners as if they were your own.

“Hawks.”

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

Is he dying now?

Are you killing him?

“Hawks.”

His breath hitches, whatever he might have said is long gone when the head of his cock catches against your entrance.

“Hawks—”

He sinks in to the hilt all at once and the last utterance of his name is a yelp. Your walls clamp down hard around the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers, so hot and long and thick as he pulses inside you.

There are no words after that.

No names, no refusals, just his face pressed up on yours as he pushes your thighs to your chest and rolls his hips, fucking you evenly into the mattress.

Not soft or slow or overly rough.

Though it is all of those things at once as well.

Hawks has always been full of contradictions. It makes sense that this is too.

Both your eyes stay open, lips brushing and sharing breath as he slips a hand back down to your clit and starts those perfect circles up again.

He doesn’t ask you questions now. Just stares in your eyes and sinks his cock into your over and over until you feel fuller, more complete than you ever have in the whole of your life.

There’s no warning leading up to the end. You feel the crest approaching, the coil waiting to snap low in your belly and you don’t dare take your eyes off his face. You need to commit the entirety of this moment to memory. Just in case.

Just in case it never happens again.

Or worse, it happens over and over until it doesn’t.

Until you run out of chances to touch him.

Until he comes to you too far gone.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and that’s all the warning you get.

All the warning you have the strength to listen to as you tumble over the edge, waves of rolling pleasure burning under your skin. You clench hard around his cock as his hips stutter in their pace, thrusting unevenly as you gush and he spills rope after rope of hot release deep into you.

And you’d been wrong before, because this was full. This was whole, your stilling bodies pressed together at every point with his cock still hard and twitching as your walls milked him of cum that warmed you from the inside out.

This is what you would die for.

***

Later when you stumble into unwilling wakefulness, there are hands tucking a thin sheet over your bare skin.

Hawks has pulled himself from you after resting like you’d told him he should. He’s dressing, though not hurriedly, and you can’t find it in your jelly bones to move or stop him.

You’re both silent, even when he looks down to find your eyes alert and raking over him—costume donned and wings prepared for flight.

His face is drawn in a way that might have been resentment. Maybe towards you for breaking his resolve, maybe at himself for indulging in what he cannot have.

I can’t.

You hear the words as clear as though he’d just said them.

I can’t.

Can’t have you. Can’t forget his purpose. Can’t have gentle things.

Hawks is a villain, first and foremost, above all else and that includes you.

So you don’t move to stop him as he walks softly through your door. You just watch as he makes his way to the open window and perches on the ledge. He does look back, only briefly, to see you draped across the sheets, head resting on your arm and staring at him as he leaves you.

The ghost of that cheeky grin crawls its way onto his face before he tips backwards off the landing and into the night sky. He winks once before the indigo of the night swallows him like the maw of a leviathan. The city has teeth and it will chew him up and spit him back out into your arms soon enough.

So you’re content to wait.

You know this isn’t the last time. That he’ll come back to you as he’s always done. And offer you more and more of himself each time.

Because you can only touch him when he’s dying.

And this world is nothing if not determined to kill him.

So you can keep your purpose.

And by extension, you can keep him.

#hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x reader #villain!au #bnha fanfiction #tw blood #tw dubcon #hawks angst #hawks smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bee.writes

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palaceofpassion · 3 years

Note

Can we get some follow up for that one involving Jaune breeding Nuts and Dolts. Maybe either Ruby’s turn or the Bees getting bred while the three already breed ladies watch.

Part 2 to @dam1994s original ask! This time its Ruby’s turn, also the reason I didn’t label the first as NTR.

“Ruby.”

This didn’t feel right, it hadn’t felt right for a while now, but now that he actually got the chance to take a look at Ruby’s face he felt torn up about it. “I’d let things get too far…”

“Y...yes…”

She couldn’t even look him in the eyes, staring lifelessly towards her sheets. Patting the sheets in front of him he called his young friend over, “Come here.” He’d have to fix this, “Sorry Penny, we’ll continue later if time allows it.” He’d have to take control of the situation, things had gotten far too out of hand.

“No problem, friend Jaune! Come Ruby it's your turn! Oh I can’t wait! I can’t wait till we’re both big and pregnant! Round bellies with wonderful life in them!”

Jaune rolled his eyes, but left a pleasant smile on his face, that was till he saw how demure Ruby was. The once adventurous team leader was disheartened, broken, just sad. He felt like he’d kicked a puppy, though maybe it was better to say Weiss had. Who was simply smiling at him, to which he shook his head in disappointment. “Ruby, sit now.”

And like the broken puppy she was, she made her way over to him, slowly meandering forward until she was kneeling a foot away. “Look at me.” When she didn’t respond, he simply grasped the bottom of her chin, lifting it slightly so she could shift her gaze to match his. “Ruby.”

“I’m ready…”

He could tell how unready she was, the dark bags under her eyes from crying or with how red her sclera was. She wasn’t doing well at all. “Ruby, you’re not, and you’re not okay.” He took a deep breath as he brought his right hand to her cheek, gently sliding his thumb beneath her eye and clearing the falling tear. “Ruby, if you didn’t want this, you should have said no.”

It took her a moment to start speaking, her lip trembling as she did. “But… but… I would have… everyone would have been disappointed in me.”

“I would not have!”

Penny spoke up, dancing over next to them, thick droplets of semen dripping from her pussy as she landed next to Ruby.

“I wouldn’t have either.”

It looked as if Ruby wanted to say something, but Jaune spoke before her. “She really wouldn’t have. Weiss is just a…” He turned towards his wife, who simply smiled at him, like the princess she knew she was. “A sadist, a very hardcore sadist.”

“You know it~”

“But… she said… and…”

“Ruby, if you didn’t want you or I to get pregnant you should have said something!”

“But…”

“Ruby, it's okay. We can stop here, I...” He scratched the back of his head as an uncomfortable silence followed. “I’m sorry Ruby. You shouldn’t be. I should have noticed you weren’t feeling great.”

“I should have more so.” Penny once again chimed in.

“I just… I want Penny to be happy… but watching her being taken by you… and seeing her face… she was…”

“Oh Ruby! I’m sorry! It was just my first experience with a cock and… and it FELT REALLY Good.”

“Penny not helping.”

“And Weiss was saying…”

“Sorry Ruby, I tend to get REALLY into it when Jaune starts to fuck other women. I do care for you… but it's really hot.”

Again he rolled his eyes at his wife. “And… I don’t think you’d want to have sex with me.”

“Wait no I-”

“HAH! Jaune not wanting to have sex with you?! Are you serious!?”

His face started to flash hot as a sudden realization began to dawn on him. “Weiss, you better not.”

However, that didn’t stop his wife. “Ruby! He’s had a HUGE crush on you for as long as you knew each other! Did you think he just had a thing for Pyrrha and me? Ohohohohoho!”

“What?”

Jaune felt his face flash really hot. “Weiss, that's enough.”

He tried to sound as threatening as he could, but Weiss was having none of it, instead she simply smirked and nodded, “Okay~” He didn’t like the way she said that. Either way this was a moment for Ruby, not for his wife, he’d get to dealing with her later… he hoped.

“Right, well… Ruby I think you’re insanely attractive, I actually thought I’d be having sex with you first.” He couldn’t help but scratch the back of his head as Ruby turned her attention back to him, her eyes widening at the sudden realization.

Gone were her previous fears, the strange sensation she felt in her belly from watching her wife being bred by a man… by her best friend, instead a new strange flitty feeling filled her. She felt a little woozy as she began to finally take in Jaune’s form for the first time. She’d known he’d gotten rather muscular back during their adventures but… looking at him now well… she liked what she saw. And when her eyes fell a little lower? She found she REALLY liked what she saw. So much so she had to fight back the urge that pulled her towards reaching out and stroking it, all on her own.

“Jaune?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you… can you go slow?”

Then he smiled at her, and this time, instead of the rotten feeling that had overwhelmed her earlier, she felt a genuine sense of warmth fill her.

“Of course Crater Face.”

“Hah, thanks Vomit Boy.”

She allowed his fingers to run through her body, gently coasting down her back and curling at the soft swells of her rear. A small shudder ran through her spine, and a soft gasp escaped through her lips. A sudden lightness filled her as he drew close, the edge of his p...dick pressed against her already moist sex. “You sure you want this?”

“Ye...yes please.”

“Alright.”

Her lower body tensed as the sharp pain struck from her crotch, her tight slit began to unfold before the firm strength of his shaft pressing further inside of her. “O...Oww…”

“I can stop.”

“N...no keep going…”

She did her best to ignore the cheers coming from the side, Penny obviously fully in the mood. Or the snide smile coming from Weiss as she watched her ‘man’ have his way with another woman. She knew her friend meant well… but she wasn’t going to concentrate on her wife or Weiss at the moment.

She wanted to concentrate on the fullness running through her. Through his hands gently running against the back of her head, stroking through her dark locks. She wanted to concentrate on the sudden bulge in her belly that slowly rose to the top of her stomach and the new sensation of the tip pushing against her cervix. She felt fuller than she’d ever felt, her body, finally easing into a pleasurable sensation. “Oooph~ Okay, I think… I think I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded back to Jaune, who pressed forward, his body suddenly towering on top of her. Her body began to sink into her mattress as he applied all his weight down upon her. Her legs pulled back as he shifted his thighs to pry them forward. She… she’d looked it up before, but she realized this was a mating press. “Sorry Rubes, I may get a little crazy but I re-”

“He wants to breed you so badly Ruby~ He wouldn’t shut up about it all the way here.”

“Weiss!” He hissed at his wife.

A fiery blush kissed Ruby’s cheeks as she realized both Weiss and Penny were now surrounding her. “Nope~ I’m going to tell her all about it… besides, it's not like you can do anything, you’re cocks all nice and warm inside her tight little cunt, you probably don’t want to pull out huh?”

She looked back upon him, her silver eyes scanning his suddenly reddening chest. She felt a mighty feed of satisfaction fill her as he simply began to gyrate his hips, grinding their crotches together as he buried his cock deep inside of her tight little hole. Her pussy tingled, the brustling of his pubic hairs scritching at her entrance was doing funny things to her, and she really liked it.

“Did you know Ruby? That he used to have a crush on you at Beacon.”

“Wei-s.” She felt him try to pull out, her body wanting more of him instinctively reached out, her arms wrapping around the tall of his back, her legs tightly winding around his hips pulling him down. Besides… she kind of wanted to hear the story.

“Well~ You see, he would tell me about what he thought about you… especially when you wore those cute little pajamas, the ones that hugged your tush.”

“Wei-”

Weiss ignored him, “He’d tell me about how he used to imagine, pushing you down, taking you away, dragging you to some closet far away where Yang couldn’t get to you. To pull your clothes down, sliding his big ol cock into your cute little slit. How he wanted to breed that cute little pussy of yours, you REALLY turned him on, you know that?”

“Re...Really?”

“Ye...yes…” She could tell he tried not to admit it, but the twitch inside of her sent little happy feelings through her.

“Not… not Yang?”

“No…”

“Yep~ He wanted YOU, wanted to breed you, to pump you full of his seed. He’d tell me about how many times he just imagined putting a baby into lil old you back in Beacon.”

“Weis-”

“Tut tut tut~ Not done.”

She felt a low growl erupting from within Jaune, his chest vibrating as he suddenly pulled up and then THUMP she felt the air knock from her lungs as he rose up and slammed his massive cock inside of her. Her body suddenly aching for an all new reason as her insides were split apart, her womb shifting upwards against her stomach. She felt him pull back again as he prepared to lunge back in once more.

“You know~ He used to tell me, that when RNJR went out, you guys had food problems sometimes, and well you were a growing girl so-”

“Weiss stop!”

“He would sometimes cum in your soup, you needed protein after all… that of course didn’t stop even as we went on… sometimes I would help pump his cock, make sure you had all the energy a growing girl needed.”

She felt REALLY hot all of a sudden, all those tasty meals she had… that salty sweet flavor she used to love… it all made sense, and… and she tried to look back at Jaune, but then his chest pushed down on her, his hips reeled back and- THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP.

Like a wild beast he’d lost control, his hips now jackhammering into her. Any and all resistance proved futile against his powerful strikes, her rear bounced off the bed, as his heavy balls smashed right into her plump ass. Her cheeks turned a bright red as the heavy set orbs smashed into her with every lunging thrust.

Her insides churned, and her womb began to beg for more! A new experience began to overwhelm her. His arms tightly wrapped around her back, draping downwards as his fingers sunk into her fatty ass. She gasped again, biting into his musculature as he continued his relentless pace.

She couldn’t keep a hold of herself anymore, even more so when Weiss began talking again. “You remember how a few of your panties went missing?”

THUD

He slammed into her again forcing her further into her bed, his thrusts having enough force that she was afraid he’d break it! Or worse, break her at this rate!

“Well~ He has a collection at home, most of them were used of course.”

THUD THUD THUD

“AAAAH!”

She screamed out in pleasure, as he violated her insides, her cervix turning black and blue from the relentless beating he placed upon her. His nails started to carve into the soft round curves of her bottom, digging into her fleshy exterior as he tried to practically fuse the two of them together.

She wanted to cry out, a mixture of pleasured pain swirling inside of her. She wanted to say something, but her throat burned, his aura seeping into her body sending violent chills throughout. She received no warning as he pushed himself down, pressing ALL of his weight down on her small sleek figure. She couldn’t tell what was happening at first, her pussy numbed from the sheer force of their sexual escapades, but when her womb began to fill her ovaries hungrily drinking the new found liquid spreading within her. She knew he’d cum inside, that the reason he was clinging to her so tightly was to make sure that not. A . single. Drip. would. Spill. Out.

Her toes curled as SPLURT SPLURT SPLURT SPLURT SPLURT He unloaded gallons of spunk within her. Her body shook to its core as a powerful orgasm filled her, the new sensation of being filled, the womanly parts of her finally over joyed to have fulfilled their mission. She lost it. “AaaHhHahaha!” She held on, her fingers sinking into his back, clawing against the strong musculature, holding onto dear life all while her eyes rolled back, her tongue hung out and her everything started to collapse.

“Oh dear~ She couldn’t handle it…”

“Ah… dang… damn it Weiss why’d you have to say that.”

“Oh please! You WANTED to do that.”

Jaune rolled his eyes again at his wife, though he didn’t deny her claim.

“Sorry Penny, we may have to wait ti-”

“Breed her more!”

“But sh-”

“She’s stuck to you! Make sure she’s all nice and knocked up! Do it! Do it!”

Jaune felt a new found fear for the plucky Orangette… maybe there was something up with the color Orange.

“Fine.”

Well, he felt bad for Ruby, but he DID have a job to do. “I’ll go again.”

THUD THUD THUD

And so he refused to let up, even as Ruby hung tightly to him on nothing but instinct, her senses frayed and broken. He’d have to make sure she was nice and knocked up, after all an Arc always kept their promises.

#Ruby Rose #Penny Polendina #Jaune Arc #Weiss Schnee #notdoingthebees

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

It’s Not Fair

Warnings: Monster, Double Penetration, Degradation (fem!reader x levi)

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: It’s his birthday and I want that good ol’ monster loving (also since it’s monster!levi, he doesnt keep the entire aspects of him, but it’ll be described!! Kinda similar to an overhaul monster one I did if youve seen that one) (also i went with fem because there was no gender specified but if youd like for a male, ill be happy to change the pronouns and everything else)

Leviathan is many things. He considers himself all his flaws first- all the horrible envy that makes his mouth fill with acid, the horrible anger that aches deep in his bones, the narrowed eyes that will sharpen into something more than just a man complaining how it isn’t fair. A man with slender hands that grow jagged and sharp, littered with scales that seem so impenetrable but has scratches from long ago etched deep into the dark scales. Leviathan is envy, eyes that fill with tears from some deep emotion, a sin so vile it has torn people apart, has lead to murder and everything worse than death.

He is someone who, at first glance, no one would fear. He is nothing more than an otaku. But he is everything more than just that. He is a sea serpent, something so monstrous in size that you can feel something worse than fear touch at your body. He is a leader. When he was holy and untouchable, he commanded angels, and now he is a Grand Admiral of The Hell’s Navy. he is someone to be feared.

And yet, when in something more sharp than his usual form, fear is muddled between a different emotion. You suspect you can blame another particular brother for this sudden arousal at seeing Leviathan stand tall, teeth sharp and glinting under the fluorescent light of an office. His tongue peeks out and wets his lips and you aren't surprised at the forked muscle that peeks out, shining in thick saliva, split and eyes that shine with something that you’ve only seen a few times.

He calls your name and you can feel your cunt clench, arousal already seeping past your warm folds. His nostrils flare and his hands clench- you realize with a hitch of your breath that they are clawed, his usually dark painted nails are extended. “I can smell you from here.” A shiver runs through your body and bumps prick your skin. “You can leave.” You smile softly that he still gives you a choice. He is a monster filled with something sweet.

“I don’t want to.” You step forward and can feel the slick drip to your underwear. “It’s your birthday, right?” He gives you a curt nod. “Well,” you whisper, your breath hot and mind slowly clouded over by lust, “happy birthday.”

The objects on his desk are pushed and scattered onto the floor. The metal objects clang painfully onto the ground, the papers rip and tear with just a meet of his claws and there’s a thin, clean line of where his hand waved across the desk.

It happens so fast, so quick that you’re left bare on his desk. Your back against the cold wood, clothes scattered and you can only stare up at the demon above you. Horns spiraling into the air, taininted in something that smells like the ocean. Your legs are spread, cunt aching and pulsing as your arousal seeps past your entrance, coating you in a thin, sticky fluid. If not for the lust that fuels your body more than your mind, you would have worried that someone would walk in.

His tongue is circling around you, thick and ridged at the sides, pushing past your leaking sex, and filling you with something pronounced that makes your body go stiff. Long and slimy, you are able to feel the saliva that drips from mouth latch onto his chin, his face pressed close to your sex, nose bumping against your clitorisis, in a teasing motion. The thick muscle is deep inside of you, filling your soft, gummy walls. The slit muscle rubs against everything so well, pushing past the aching walls, touching against your cervix. You squirm, a hand grabbing at your chest, pinching a budding nipple between your fingers harshly that you wince. The other hand goes to grab at his horn, the coral-like bone that pierced through him when he fell from grace. You hold the horn tight in your hands, the scattered pieces that push outwards dig into your palm and he groans against your sex. Something wet and warm slicks at your hand and you gasp sharply, closing your lips and whimpering behind your clenched teeth. It aches and the heat that coils inside of you, the pushing mass of muscle that makes you spill in arousal and spit slides down your cunt and pools onto the desk.

You whisper his name, using the horn to pull him close to you. “Leviathan,” you hiss, your legs kicking upwards in the air in an intense aching sensation. “‘S too much,” you whine. You rub your cunt against his face, a lewd moan escaping past your lips and your lower half clenches.

He pulls his tongue out quickly and your body jumps in the air at the sudden loss of fullness. He stands tall, body slowly creeping with scales, his tail out and it’s longer than it usually is- thicker and laying heavily on the floor. His hand holds you roughly by the face, the points of his nail touching at your skin and your face is squished, the fat of your cheeks providing little comfort from the rough touch of the third eldest. Your lips are puckered and your face is burning with a release that was stolen from you.

“You’re going to take everything I give you,” he hisses, chin wet with your arousal. “Do you understand me? You’re going to be a good, little slut and spread those legs for me. I’m going to fuck you until I’m spent.” His words are becoming darker, something you rarely hear from him and he holds you tight by the face. “I’m going to fuck you, do you understand?” Your cunt throbs for him and arousal shoots to your core, wanting to have him claim what is his. “I said-” his nails dig further into you and you make a noise of pain- “do you understand?”

You nod to your best ability. “Yes, sir.” Your words are slurred together, the ‘s’ a shushing noise that makes him smile in a cruel way.

Leviathan is a shut-in but he is still the third eldest brother. He is imposing, serpent-like and pushing you down. You stare up at the ceiling, the room illuminated by bright, white light that makes you close your eyes. You can feel his hands paw at your body, grabbing and touching at your exposed skin. You shiver under his cold hands that grip at your breasts, palming at your hardened nipples. He roams your body as if he owned it, letting his touch linger and fingers play along your tender self.

Your entrance leaks with heavy arousal that slides past your folds. You can feel something hard press against your thigh, jerking in motion, the hard feeling separating and something sticky spreading itself against your thigh.

“Both?” You ask in a breathless voice, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “I- I don’t-”

“I know you can.” He leans close to your face, breath hot as he nuzzles against your neck. Your pulse speeds in pace, blood pumping in your ears. Your heart beats against your chest, echoing loudly, the pulse point in your throbbing where his lips press against you, puckered softly in a lasting kiss. “You’re going to be the good girl I know you are and you’re going to take both of them so well for me.” he pulls away and he looks down at you, lips turned into a soft smile, the innocence of it ruined by the vulgar look on his face.

You lie on the wooden desk, lowered and pressed flat against it. He looms above you, a swarm of butterflies that flutter in your stomach in an angry storm. The heat inside of your body rises, fueled by lust and fear, the serpent rises above you, his tongue spilling out, curling at tip. It’s drenched in spit, gossamer strands that connect it between the two split ends. His hand covers your face entirely, fingers sliding into your hair and scratching at your scalp as he tugs on the hair. Your neck aches, head turned to the side, as his cocks stretch your aching holes. It’s a pain that blinds you, that makes you scream in his name in broken cry, grabbing at the arm and scratching your nails down the scaled covered limb. You whine and buck your hips and he shushes you, his tail wrapping around your throat, lifting your head and sliding underneath your neck. The tail, scaled and dry slides down your spine, curving your body into a soft arch and the comfort of the desk leaves you. You are lifted into the air, his cocks inside of you. The swirled tips pushed inside and rubbing inside of you in a spiral that makes your mouth open and have a drool pool in your mouth.

His hands, clawed and scaled, large and heavy cradle your smaller body. Holding you above the floor as an offering to himself as he pushes himself deeper into your body. His tail tightens and the tip of it slides it’s way onto your torso, the scales kissing his bent knuckles, the tip of it sliding to your jaw and entering your mouth.

Leviathan howls in pleasure, pressed close to you, a cock inside of you jerking sporadically, until you can feel thick ropes of semen drip out of your body. The loud clicking noises that fill the room echoes in your ears. He grunts and pants, spit dripping from his mouth and onto your stretched stomach.

“I’m gonna fill your cunt,” he breathes out, eyes drenched in hunger and want. “I’m gonna release my load into your cunt. You’re gonna be nothing more than a cumdumpster for some fucking nerd.” He laughs wildly, teeth sharp and eyes crazed. “But that’s what you want, huh?” You cunt aches and he moves so quick and determined to find his own high that you can’t do much but be used a sex toy for him. “You should see your dumb, little face-” he sticks his cock deep inside of you, the both of them erected despite one of them spilling inside of you- “all fucked out.” He breathes sharply and pushes his tail deeper into your mouth until you gag around it, tears pricking at your eyes and body going rigid.

Your sex wraps around him tightly, the two cocks in your cunt stretching your rim past what you’re used to. It aches, pleasurable and painful all at once, a kiss by the serpent himself, something that bites and digs its fangs deep into you. His touch is addictive, unholy, a wickedness that spread across you as the monster claims you as his own- as Leviathan holds onto you with hands that are unrelenting. His tail is deep in your mouth, your moans muffled by the appendage in your mouth, singing to him, only to be quieted.

He’s unforgiving in his pace, taking his brother’s sin and using you for his own selfish desires, taking the warm, soft walls that wrap around his cock so nicely, using you as a personal toy as you arch below him, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, and dripping past your jaw. You are a mess. You are a mess because of him, mind slipping with only pleasure and the ache in your lower stomach piling over The coils burn hot, your body aching for an inch of release given to you by the demon who holds you with large, clawed hands that scratch at your skin. He can feel your approaching release, your eyes that water and stare at the ceiling above. You are curved on him, a fallen angel that is tainted by Envy.

Your teeth are a small pressure against his scales, nothing in comparison to what he has felt before but all in the same, it’s lovely, a pressure so welcomed, so new and loved, that, he holds you close. He slips his tail out and curls it around your body, kisses at your neck and moans your name when you’re pressed against his chest.

Wet, gummy walls tighten around him, pulling him close and you moan his name, clawing at his skin, your nails nothing more than a simple itch as you release against him. You moan and cry, blubber his name on your tongue while you spasm around his cock, calling for him to never stop. He releases inside of you, flooding out immediately, so desperate to bite into your shoulder, but fearing the blood that will seep into his mouth and stain his being in something greater than sin. He holds you close and feels the thick cream slide out of you.

He’s gentle when laying you back down, slipping his cocks out of your abused bunt that he stares at with growing shame. He has ruined you, corrupted you with Envy- with himself. He kisses your navel, your sex a strong scent. You lay on the desk, thick discharge spilling your core, mixed with your own sweeter one. You close your eyes, trying to will yourself to stand and collect the clothes that were torn from your body.

You can hear a soft curse and hands dance over your body in a frantic motion, fluttering around your heated body and pushing your legs. You whimper at the touch, furrowing your brows and relaxing once you return to your original position. A warm touch replaces the empty feeling in your body and you are pulled close, leaning your forehead against a chest. You can feel your body wrapped around something warm, something scented of the ocean and summer love.

Leviathan is many things. He is a man who enjoys anime, who collects figures and any other type of merch available. He is someone who collects and loves what he does. He knows who he is. He is an otaku. He is someone who brings you to his room to lie on a worn futon that acts as a bed for when you spend the night. Leviathan is someone who cries at the climax of a show and holds you hand tight. Someone who loves to talk about his interests and hear you talk. Leviathan is sin, something so grotesque and magnificent that you can’t help but become speechless when he sits beside you. Someone with fair skin, eyes like a forming sunset that shine with something that you can’t describe. Someone with teeth so sharp that a simple press pierces through your delicate skin and lets your blood prick at your body. He is everything that should be hated, everything so beautiful and lovely that you can’t help but feel an envy when he approaches another.

Leviathan carries you, covering you in a thick jacket, your hands clenching feebly at the shirt that he wears, now crinkled. He holds you close to him, looks ahead and refuses to meet the eyes of the ground that he’s grown so accustomed to over the past years. He holds you close in his arms, pushing you towards his chest. His hands cradle your weakened body and he stops. You look up at him through tired eyes, lids heavy with exhaustion. Above you, he looks at you with a worried face, worry biting at his lips and the light that glows behind him creates a halo around his head, the light illuminating the purple into something so much more. His lips kiss at your forehead, a confession that he will never be able to say out loud, never a true confession, but always something so close to it. Envious of all that you are able to give him and something that he cannot provide back to you, he kisses your skin.

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wlwmarvelenthusiast · 3 years

Note

Could you do carol x fem!reader but like so angsty that I can cry myself to sleep even tho I’m on antidepressants and can’t feel anything but plz let there b a happy ending thank u so much love u

I'm not sure if this qualifies as angst but here's a draft I had that I edited a little to fit the request. I hope it does the trick :)

It Wasn't For You

Summary: A mission gone horribly wrong drives a wedge between you and Carol. Is the bond fixable, or are the things you both said unforgivable?

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,998

You weren't sure what that emotion was that was boiling in your blood as you stormed back to your apartment. Was it worry? Were you just upset? You let it sit with you a moment as you unlocked the door. It wasn't either one of those things. It was rage. It was hot, unbridled rage. The cause of it was a certain Avenger who you had thought loved you enough to not do what she'd done. Clearly, she hadn't.

She was right behind you, stepping through the doorway before you could slam it behind you. You growled under your breath as she invited herself into your home, closing the door only once she was in. You didn't even bother turning to face her. You went straight to the bar and poured yourself a drink, not offering her one and not planning to let her touch a single drop of your alcohol. You took a sip of the hard liquor.

"Would you listen to me for one goddamn second?" She huffed out.

"I listened to you for multiple seconds, Carol. It doesn't change any facts."

"I did it for you!"

"I don't give a fuck."

Truly and honestly, you didn't. What she'd done was immoral, infuriating, and wholly unforgivable. She could get down on her knees right there in front of the bar and you wouldn't have batted an eyelash. It wouldn't be enough. In fact, you were convinced that nothing would be enough for you to forgive her. It didn't matter how much you had loved her yesterday or the day before. It didn't how much you loved her today.

"I'd do it again," she assured.

"Then I would do this again," you turned to finally face her, eyes locking with the brown ones that could usually instill a sense of peace in your chest, but today seemed to have no effect. "We're done, Carol. I think it'd be best if you left, please."

You could practically hear her heart dropping into her stomach. There was a part of you that ached to bring her into your arms and soothe that hurt look off her face. You knew better. That piece of you would fade eventually. You'd learn not to love her anymore. In fact, you could probably learn how to hate her. The boiling rage that was flowing through your very veins could assist you with learning that.

"Please-"

"I'm asking you to go," you said, firmer this time. "Please, get out."

If she'd had a tail to tuck between her legs, she absolutely would have. She didn't even bother to protest again. The expression you'd plastered on your face made it clear it wouldn't have done anything anyway. She slowly made toward the door. Her hand touched the doorknob and she cast her gaze back to you once more. You didn't dare let your features soften. You could've sworn there were tears in her eyes as she turned the doorknob and left.

You breathed out as the door closed behind her, finally daring to let tears streak down your cheeks.

You stared down the super soldier, neither of you wanting to speak first. He was the team leader though, and basically your boss. You knew even if he was the first one to speak, you were going to be the one spilling everything. You didn't want to, not one bit, but you knew you were going to have to anyway. You wondered if you had the strength to talk about it. You wondered if he had the strength to listen to your recollection of events.

"I just need to know what happened so when they ask-"

"Fuck, Steve! Natasha fucking died and we're sitting here having this stupid conversation," you shouted, rising to your feet, tossing the papers in front of you off the table, and moving to the window. "I have a goddamn funeral to plan!"

"Look, neither of us wants to talk about this, but we have to!"

You sighed, clasping your hands behind your back as you looked out at the compound grounds. There were agents training, running laps around the building. Sam was the one guiding them, seeming to enjoy barking orders at them. You tore your gaze away from a sight that seemed to have lost its beauty now that Natasha wasn't there alongside the Falcon, chuckling with him as they watched the new recruits huff and puff.

"It was me or her and Carol chose me," you finally gave. "I was what would have been fatally outnumbered and Natasha was down. She was in the jet. Carol could have either gone and stopped the jet from crashing, or she could pull me out and neutralize the enemy. She chose the latter. That's what happened. Happy?"

"I need your report."

"I need to plan Natasha's funeral!"

You stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind you. You let out the breath that had been stuck in your chest, leaning your head against the wall and shutting your eyes. It hadn't been an easy couple of days. You'd have been surprised if you'd gotten more than three hours of sleep in the last three nights combined. Somehow, though, you still didn't feel tired. You felt a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them.

As if losing Natasha wasn't hard enough, you were also grappling with crippling amounts of anger and guilt. Natasha should have been the one that was saved. She was the obvious choice, and yet here you stood, and Natasha was gone. The anger, though? That was all for Carol. She had promised you that her relationship with you wouldn't have affected her at work, but it had. She'd saved you when she should have saved Natasha and all of those people in the impact zone.

"Can we talk?"

Speak of the devil.

You opened your eyes, using your shoulder blades to push yourself away from the wall. Immediately your entire stance got defensive. You crossed your arms over your chest. You watched as she searched your eyes in hopes of being able to read them like she usually did, but knew it would be to no avail. You didn't want her to know anything about what you were feeling. She didn't deserve to know what you were feeling. All she deserved was to be on the receiving end of your rage.

"No. I told you we're done, Danvers. We don't need to talk anymore."

"I'm not letting you go that easy."

"You don't have a damn choice!" You laughed humourlessly. "You can't stop me. You don't own me, and you definitely don't own my heart."

With that, you stepped around her, walking toward the doors of the compound. You could hear her footsteps trailing behind you. You didn't bother to turn around and glance at her, or even open your mouth to tell her to go away. You just let her follow you as if she were going to get something out of you. She wasn't going to. The last thing you wanted to do was hear some sort of failed explanation as to why she'd decided to save you. You knew why. It was because she couldn't separate home and work. You never should have trusted her to be able to.

You stepped out into the sunlight, cursing the sky for being so bright and sunny when it felt like it should be dark and gloomy. A storm cloud and roaring thunder might appropriately match the way you felt inside. Instead, you were forced to pull your sunglasses down over your eyes as you headed back toward your car, feeling you could use the walk toward it instead of making it come to you- a feature Tony has insisted you needed. As you arrived though, Carol finally reacted.

"Jesus Christ, would you hear me out?" She said, anger in her voice as she grabbed your wrist.

"Let go of me."

"Talk to me."

"I already said no. Let go of me," you demanded.

You ripped your arm out of her grasp, glaring at her as she retracted her arm. You unlocked your car, getting into the front seat. You didn't even glance at Carol as you started the engine, put the car into drive, and pulled out of your spot, leaving her behind.

It was early when you woke up the next morning, and immediately your day went different than normal. Your eyebrows furrowed when you stepped out of your bedroom and found an envelope slipped under your apartment door. It was completely unmarked. You knew the danger of anything unmarked. You were an Avenger. You couldn't find it in you to care, though. Without Carol's arms around you, you tossed and turned. Losing Natasha hurt so much more without Carol there to hold you through it. But it was her fault.

You reached down and picked up the envelope. You sliced it open with the knife that was resting on the table beside the front door. What you pulled out was a single piece of lined paper. It had clearly been ripped out of someone's notebook, the torn rings hanging off the left side. You unfolded the paper and immediately recognized Carol's handwriting inside. You crumpled it up and prepared to throw it, but then you hesitated.

She wasn't there. You didn't have to talk to her. You didn't want to talk to her one bit, but you were dying to hear her side of the story. This way, you didn't have to risk breaking and losing yourself to emotion in front of her. You uncrumpled the paper and held it out in front of you. You took a deep breath and let your gaze drift over Carol's familiar handwriting once before you moved your eyes to the top of the page.

Y/N,

I really hope you didn't throw this out. I suppose if you're reading this, you didn't.

I know you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I might not want to talk to me either. Your best friend died and it is entirely and completely my fault. I know that. It is my fault. I could have saved her, and I didn't. I just need you to know why.

I know you think that I broke my promise. I promised you, Steve, and every Avenger, including Natasha, that I would never let our relationship affect our work. It must seem like I failed to do that. I didn't break that promise. I love you. I do. But I wouldn't do that.

I knew that saving Natasha was more likely to be successful than saving you. Saving her would have meant saving those three civilians too. Not saving you, though, meant that they would have gotten away, and it meant they would have killed dozens of our agents on their way out. There were so many of them. They outgunned our men by too much. I didn't do it for you. I did it for them.

It breaks my heart that I couldn't save her. If I could have given my life for hers, I'd have done it in a heartbeat. If choosing her over you had been the right choice, I'd have done it. I promise you that.

I love you, even if you can't love me back.

- C

Tears spilled from your eyes as the empty casket was lowered into the ground. When a hand brushed ever so lightly against yours, you stiffened. You glanced for a moment over at the woman beside you. Those brown eyes were locked on you as well, for a moment, before turning back to the burial. You took a deep breath before moving, threading your fingers between hers. You pulled a little closer to her.

Maybe you should have listened to her. That letter you'd received yesterday had been a lot to think about. You'd been so angry with Carol because she'd closed you over Natasha and you'd been selfish enough to think it was because she couldn't separate her feelings for you from work. When you'd found out that wasn't the case, it had taken away all your reason to be angry at her. What happened to Natasha wasn't her fault.

Once the red had faded, you'd realized how stupid you'd been being. Carol had obviously been hurting and you'd been gatekeeping pain because you'd been blaming yours on her. The guilt stewing in her gut was probably millions of times worse than yours. She'd had to make that choice out in the field. It was the right choice, you saw now, but that would never matter. You knew how that felt, and you'd pushed her away and left her to deal with it alone. You wouldn't blame her if she couldn't forgive you for that.

When the funeral ended and people started heading toward the reception, you stayed glued to the spot. You could tell Carol wasn't sure what to do. Her hand had tried to pull away to give you space, but this time it was you that didn't let her leave you. The hand that was in hers tightened enough that she got the message. You had to wonder if she'd stay to hear it. As always, though, she was better than you. Her efforts to move away stopped.

You stayed silent for a moment, standing in that position and wondering what to say. There might not have been words enough to express just how sorry you were. There might not have been anything you could say that would make her forgive you. You deserved that, though. You broke up with her. There was no obligation for her to take you back and you hadn't given her any reason to want to. You were the one who had pushed.

"I'm sorry, Carol," you muttered, knowing full well that wasn't enough. "I'm sorry for everything. I was selfish."

"I get it," she admitted. "It's okay."

She was better than you.

But it wasn't okay. What you'd done to her was far from okay. You'd taken one look at the guilty relief in her eyes after that mission and decided that she'd sacrificed Natasha for you. She was allowed to be relieved. You would have been, if the roles had been reversed. Just because you lost Natasha, didn't mean Carol wasn't allowed to be a little relieved that the love of her life survived. Now, you didn't get to be that.

"Baby... Carol, I just wanted you to know that I read what you wrote and I'm sorry for how I'd reacted. I'm sorry I didn't stop to hear you out before that and I'm sorry I pushed you away when you were obviously hurting."

She dared to pull you a little closer. "You can still call me Baby."

You had to let out a light chuckle at that, despite the tears on your face. You wondered if you were mourning Natasha or your relationship with Carol. Whatever the case, she reached out and brushed the pad of her thumb across your cheek. You couldn't resist leaning a little harder into her hand. She got the message, opening her hand and cupping your cheek, her palm pressing delicately against your skin and her thumb continued to trace your cheekbone.

"You were hurting too," she assured quietly. "You reacted that way because you were grieving. You needed someone to blame."

"It shouldn't have been you."

"I was easy," she said, hands sliding down so they were both in yours. "I could have saved her and I didn't. Whatever reasoning I might have had, that was the truth."

"I'm supposed to love you."

"You don't love me?" She questioned.

"I do! Of course I love you, Carol. But I haven't been great at doing that recently. I should have-"

"You love me and you were grieving your friend. That's it. And I love you too," she said, squeezing your hands. "Can we stop being broken up now?"

She was standing in front of you, a tiny smile on her lips, and forgiving you. She was asking you to take her back, like it wasn't supposed to be you on your knees begging for her forgiveness. You stepped forward, taking your hands out of hers so you could instead put them on her cheeks, and pulled her toward you until your lips had met. She kissed you back immediately, her hands finding your hips. She pulled away from you.

"So yes?" She said, a hint of teasing in her voice. "Because Natasha got us together and breaking up for good over her casket would not be honouring her memory very well."

"No, it wouldn't," you said, leaning your head onto her shoulder. You looked down at the wooden casket. "I miss her so much already, Carol."

"I know. Me too, Honey."

Your heart felt the slightest bit lighter now. You would've given anything for Natasha to be okay. The fact that she was gone still felt like a knife through the chest. At least now, though, you had Carol to hold you at night and kiss the tears off your cheeks. She had you to do the same for her. That was all either of you could do. Now, only time could lessen the pain. Carol put her arms around you and held you closer.

Just as you went to tell her once again that you loved her, her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, frowning at the number that was coming from outside the country. She showed it to you and you took the phone from her.

"Hello?"

"Did it work? Do they think I'm dead?" Said the so familiar voice.

You glanced up at Carol, sure the shock on her face matched yours.

"Natasha, what the hell-"

"We've got a new mission. Are you and your lovebird up for it?"

Carol kissed your cheek and then spoke to the woman on the phone. "Absolutely."

#carol danvers #captain marvel #carol danvers x reader #marvel #mcu #wlw #lesbian #pride

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alexaplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Request: “Could you write something in which the mc is starting to develop feelings for Felix but denies them constantly/tries not to confess or accept them as a reality because they fear what would follow if and when they happen to go back to earth later...?”

Here you are! I literally have to fight myself to keep from making every dramatic moment occur at sunset on a grassy plain. This time, I lost. Sorry for the wait, I’ve hated my writing recently. Thought I don’t love this, either, I hope you enjoy it :) I changed to first person for this cause my brain is Like That.

Title: Did you Really Mean it?

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC (Last Legacy)

Words: 2484

Tags: @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay @uselessbeanies @nomnomcupcakesworld @druwuuwu @frozen-daydream @kirakiratears @margitartist @crowtrinkets @fanfic-about-fictif Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

The first time, he had been quick to dismiss it.

Felix had asked for your help reaching one of the taller shelves of the library. He claimed he needed access to one of the books, strictly for academic purposes, of course, but you’d judged by the sight of his rosy cheeks that he more so just wanted you to touch him.

Nonetheless, you had risen from your comfortable position on the sofa and accompanied him without complaint, teasing him all the while about his short stature. When you’d pinched his flushed cheek, he’d rolled his eyes with a groan, hoping you didn’t see the goosebumps that had spread across his skin at your touch.

Standing in front of the shelves, you’d wrapped your arms around his waist. This seemed most sensible, rather than vice versa, given how he knew which book to look for. You’d felt Felix’s breath leave him in a rush as your arms slid around him, his ribs contract as he exhaled. He’d shivered as your fingers brushed the bare skin near his hips where his shirt had ridden up.

Yet, he had leaned back into you as if he didn’t want you to let him go. You swallowed. That is what made this so difficult, you thought. You didn’t want to let him go, either. You simply knew that you would have to.

It was surprisingly effortless to lift him to reach one of the dust-covered titles a few shelves above your heads. As Felix had pulled the book off the shelf, a thick layer of dust had been dislodged with it. He’d sneezed, and the force of it made you stumble.

You’d fallen back onto the cushy carpet below with a gasp, Felix landing slightly on top of you with a startled yelp.

“Ouch,” you’d mumbled, rubbing your head, and then burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

“S-sorry,” Felix stammered. He looked quite abashed. You’d only shaken your head with a fond sigh and reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear.

Felix’s breath had hitched at that, his eyes going saucer wide. You dropped your hand as if he’d burnt you. Only now did you realize how close your faces were. You could count every one of his eyelashes, this close, feel the heat of his breath. His gaze briefly flitted towards your parted lips, laden with desire.

“We should get up, now.” Your smile had turned a little tense, which Felix noticed. You’d looked as if you wanted to push him off.

He winced. “R-right. Yes, of course.”

When you’d stood and parted ways, he couldn’t help but feel the slight sting of rejection. He clutched the book to his chest as he watched you walk away.

Perhaps he was over-thinking things.

✦✧✦✧

The next time, however, he was certain something was wrong.

You’d been quite clearly avoiding him as of late, skirting around his company with flimsily construed excuses that you were much too busy to see him.

Felix didn’t mind. Being on his own was something he’d grown to find familiar, if not enjoyable. He told himself that it was reasonable for you to wish to spend some time apart from him, and while a part of him believed that, another part wondered why he wasn’t good enough to hold your attention.

You used to adore him. He could still feel your fingers in his hair, your hands on his skin. At what point did he begin to bore you? Had all your comments of accepting him for who he was served only to pacify his childish, moody self? Did you mean none of it at all?

It certainly felt that way.

Then, one evening, you’d told him you were going out to a tavern with Sage. Though you’d invited him to join you, he’d declined, partially due to his being a lightweight, but also the fact that he wasn’t certain whether you truly wished to see him at all.

Yet, hours later, when you still hadn’t returned, Felix’s stomach churned with worry. He was torn between going to you and offering you the space you so clearly craved.

With a sigh, he’d wrapped a cloak around his shoulders and set off to find you. He simply wanted to make sure you were alright, that was all. It needn’t be more complicated than that.

You were seated in a booth in one of the local establishments, Sage at your side. He could smell the alcohol on your breath the moment you drew near. “Felix, my sweet!” you’d laughed as you saw him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Felix frowned at the pet name. He’d almost forgotten that you used to calm him that.

He had closed his eyes at your touch, melted into the familiar warmth of it. Then you’d frozen, looked up at him with cloudy eyes, and proclaimed that you were leaving.

Felix blinked at you in astonishment. “What?”

You had offered him no reply.

Felix had followed you as you stumbled slightly out the doors and into the darkened streets. He himself had often taken to midnight walks through the city, knowing that he had the means to protect himself. You, however, had no such training.

You’d tripped over your feet as you walked, intoxicated, through the cobblestone streets. Felix grabbed you elbow and spun you to face him.

“Stop this- this tomfoolery,” he gasped. “You’re going to maim yourself!”

“Leave me be, Felix,” you’d pouted, your words dangerously slurred. “I can’t- I don’t want to see you right now.”

Felix’s breath caught; your words sunk through his skin and settled as an ache in his chest. Yet, before he could say anything in reply, you stumbled again. He pulled you against his side to keep you from falling over, slinging one of your arms over his thin shoulders.

Felix is many things, but strong is not one of them- you nearly broke his slight frame with your weight, and he panted while he struggled to hold you. Nonetheless, he managed to guide you through the streets to the nearest inn, conscious of your breath by his ear all the while.

You’d flopped down onto the worn sheets of the bed Felix rented, your hair haloed around your head. The young necromancer’s heart hurt as he watched you, until you’d grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed at your side.

“Kiss me,” you begged, the heady scent of brandy curling around the words, and conflict waged war across Felix’s delicate features. “Kiss me, Felix, this might be the last time you get the chance.”

Felix’s grey eyes welled with tears. “I- I can’t,” he choked, feverishly shaking his head against the sheets. Oh, he had wanted to, you knew it even through your haze. You saw how his eyes once more drew towards your lips before he tore them away.

“Then go,” you said simply, rolling away from him and onto your side.

And he had.

Felix wrapped his arms around himself as he walked home through the streets alone.

✦✧✦✧

The third time hurt the most.

“Are you two officially together, now?” Anisa had asked you one evening, and Felix had waited for your response with bated breath, tucked outside the doorway where he knew you couldn’t see him.

Until it finally came, and he wished he hadn’t.

“No.” You said it with such finality, such certainty, he was sure you could hear his heart breaking, the sound of his panicked breaths. “Felix and I… I don’t think we’re a good fit.”

That was it, the final straw. He choked on a sob as he turned away, already feeling the hot rush of tears spilling from behind his closed eyelids.

He had curled up in his study, face tucked into the worn couch, and cried into his elbows, cursing his own stupidly all the while. His tears soaked through the strands of his hair, ran down his face in rivulets, dripping off his chin.

He was so delirious at that point that he allowed Stella to curl up next to him, even stroking his fingers through her soft, silky fur.

“W-why am I like this, Stella?” Felix mumbled, still sniffling around the remnants of his sobs. “It was idiotic of m-me, to think-” Felix flopped onto his back, wiping at his eyes. Then he groaned. “Goddess, and now here I am, conversing with you. A rather pitiful display.”

Stella, as expected, did not offer a reply, though her rumbling purr provided some comfort.

Felix stared up at the ceiling until morning light streamed in through the windows, caught in a miserable state. He is accustomed to being alone- after all, his wasn’t the first time he had his heart broken by someone he was sure he was in love with.

This was the only time, however, that it cut him this deeply. Never had he felt such hurt before, not even in death. In fact, he was certain he preferred that dull, empty nothingness to this.

He sighed, tiredly letting his eyes flutter shut. Stella’s fur tickled his nose, and he whispered, “How you’ve ruined me, my dear barista.”

✦✧✦✧

Things were strained between the two of you from then on. Felix wouldn’t meet your eyes whenever you were near each other. You could tell, by the redness of his eyes, that he had been crying, though for what reason you couldn’t be sure.

He kept his distance, and you chastised yourself for missing him. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? But you suddenly weren’t so certain. You stomach was slowly twisting into knots of guilt and longing.

You sat with Felix, sifting through more textbooks in an attempt to find a hint as to how to send you home. It served as a reminder, somewhat, as to why you had pushed him away, though as time passed the memory became fainter. You were instead focused on how Felix kept his eyes trained downwards, not once making a characteristically snide or snarky remark.

The silence and the tension stretched between the two of you until it snapped like a frayed string.

“Why?” Felix suddenly asked you, gasped it out as if it pained him. You’d met his eyes, though he still wouldn’t meet yours, his hands squeezed into fists in his lap.

“Why what?”

“Why did you turn me away?” he continued, his lower lip quivering. “I had hoped-” he trailed off, as if he couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Felix finished a moment later with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “You deserve much better than m-me, of course. I was selfish to think otherwise.”

“Felix-”

But Felix was no longer listening, having slammed his textbooks shut and left your side with tears swimming in his stormy eyes, muttering under his breath about how stupid he had been, desperate to keep you from seeing what a mess he’d become.

You felt awful. You’d been so determined to quell the growth of your relationship that you’d disregarded Felix’s rather fragile sense of self worth. You’d absolutely crushed him, you thought regretfully, and for what? Perhaps what was between you couldn’t last, but you should’ve been grateful for the time with him you were given.

Hours passed. You’d searched the rest of the day for Felix, but you couldn’t find him. Not in his bedroom, his study, the library, not with Sage or Anisa- your necromancer had mysteriously vanished.

Until you’d remembered one evening when he showed you one of his favourite places- a grassy hillside overlooking the sprawling city underneath. With the sun sinking over the horizon, you’d found him there, chin resting on his knees, pulled up to his chest. The wind whipped through his dark hair, cooling the streaks of tears on his reddened face.

Felix looked back over his shoulder at your sudden appearance through one of his trademark portals, then buried his face in his arms with a low groan.

“Felix, listen to me,” you whispered. Coming to sit beside him in the long grass, you gently wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into your side. You could feel him hiccup, feel him tremble against you.

You settled your chin on his shoulder as the both of you looked out over the world that had once been so foreign to you. The wind once more rippled through the sea of grass around you, the sun reflecting off each individual strand. As the sunlight slowly waned into a single strip, it touched the tips of the buildings below and lit them up like candles.

“I am so, so sorry, baby,” you said, “for making you feel that way. I was worried it would hurt, when I have to leave. I thought I was doing us both a favour by keeping us apart. You did nothing wrong, Felix, and you weren’t selfish.” You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the dying sun warm your face. “I was.”

“You weren’t-” came Felix’s muffled reply, quick to defend you as always. You shook your head, kissing the curve of his shoulder.

“I was. I thought it would be best for both of us, but I was wrong. I missed you so much, you know. Every day, I always wanted to see you. But I didn’t, and I told myself that was for the best. It was stupid. I hurt us both.”

Felix exhaled. You could feel the tension melt off him in little waves as his shoulders slumped. “You will have to leave, one day,” he murmured. “It was only logical.”

“Then we’ll face that when it comes, okay?”

Felix sighed, closing his eyes, then leaned into you and settled his head on your shoulder. “Okay.” That one word was still rather wobbly, as if he didn’t believe you. His chest rattled with each of his shaky, uneven breaths.

“Now, let me see you smile.”

You suspected you were pushing your luck with that, and your assumption had been proven correct when Felix rolled his eyes and sent you a rather unimpressed look. “No. That’s ridiculous,” he huffed. “I’m not an infant.”

You simply resorted to other means of achieving what you sought. Felix squeaked as you shifted to the side and rolled him onto your lap, laying down in the long grass in a similar position as you had in the library, long ago. This time, however, when his eyes went wide above you, you shot up and kissed him, merely a chaste peck on his plush lower lip.

His blush was more brilliant than the setting sun behind him, a bright, fiery red you couldn’t believe you ever thought to abandon. Though he groaned and stubbornly averted his eyes, Felix couldn’t help but smile- a mere quirk of his lips that was faint enough to miss.

And yet, it was good enough for you.

#Felix Escellun #Felix x MC #felix iskandar escellun #Last Legacy #Fictif #Fictif Last Legacy #Last Legacy Fanfiction #Fictif Felix #Last Legacy Felix #Sage Lesath #Anisa Anka #alexa writes #alexa plays last legacy #interactive games #rime varela #fictif sage #Felix Escellun X MC

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niksfics · 3 years

Text

↬ FATE

↬ PAIRINGS: kenma x f!reader (side aka rebound mention) miya atsumu x f!reader

↬ WARNINGS: a whole lotta angst, breakup, it’s an online relationship, kenma is cold and hurts ur feelings

↬ SUMMARY: your relationship with kenma really had felt like the last one. He was it, turns out he didn’t have similar feelings.

↬ A/N: alright loves!! This isn’t proofread at all it’s 2 in the morning I’ll edit when I wake up, butttt Thanks to my lovely ex girlfriend you are now being graced with this steaming pile of trash. (Lovely was not meant sarcastically at all she is in fact very lovely.) Ngl almost, if not all of this story is about my relationship with my ex gf. This is how I cope people. ￫ It’s taken me awhile to actually be able to right something that’s why things kinda stopped. Tbh after she broke up with me it’s been very hard for me to write so hopefully this helps! And I hope you enjoy!! I would also just like to say if it feels a lil weird it’s cause these are things I’ve actually written in my notes I tweaked it a little to fit the story but it’s straight from the source 😩

WC | 2.5K

You sighed as you opened your notes app. Your eyes scanning over all of the little facts and quirks he had told you about himself. All the stuff you’d wanted to remember. The stuff that had seemed so important to you before. Now it was meaningless, almost like facts about a stranger. Almost as if you hadn’t spent four months learning about and growing with eachother.

You scrolled down a little bit right under, how his favorite marvel character is Spider-Man and you chewed on your lip. Your fingers hovering above the keyboard on your phone. You looked over the facts again. The things he dislikes and the stuff he adores, the things he likes to collect to the way he feels passionately about a certain topic. You begin to type.

Friday June 25th 2022 12:22 Am

I cried again tonight, because I still love you. It’s been a month and six days since we broke up. It feels like there’s a hole in my chest. You seem to be doing fine though, so I’m happy for you! This is the second time since we’ve broken up that I’ve felt actual physical emotional pain in my chest. Remember when I told you how bad it hurt after we broke up? Remember how you didn’t even ask if I was ok? Didn’t even bother to answer. Do you remember that? I remember. I’ve thought about it every day since. I remember it being so bad I genuinely thought I was having a heart attack. Wasn’t until I’d called tetsu crying that he’d told me it was just emotional and I should probably try to relax.

I read through our old messages. I’ve never wanted something back so bad. Never wanted to beg anyone to stay till now. I wish you loved me like I love you. I wish I hadn’t grown so attached, wish I hadn’t fallen so deeply into love with you. I wish it wasn’t my fault that we broke up. I wish I wasn’t so fucking scared. I wish I was fearless. Wish I could rise into love bravely. I wish I was brave when it came to you. I keep telling myself it was me. It was me not you. You didn’t love me anymore. You don’t love me anymore and you’re just too nice to say that. So you told me in the only way I could handle. Except you hadn’t used the words you should have. You got bored. We both know it’s true. You were bored of it, and I don’t blame you. I know we’ll never talk again, and part of me is so glad. Another part of me forces myself to read through all our messages though. I wish I could just tell you one last time. I love you.

You sighed saving it before closing out of it. Tears you hadn’t known were falling finally became known to you as they streamed down your cheeks. Your eyes puffy as you wet your lips, the salt of them coating your tongue. You were bitter and so were your tears. I briefly wondered what he was doing right now. Probably playing a video game. You knew his schedule all to well by now. Probably testing out a new game for his stream.

A new set of fresh tears fell as you remembered how you used to call him right before he went on. Being lulled to sleep by his occasionally curses and the clicking oh his controller or his keyboard.

You never expected things to end this way. You really thought he was the last one. Yes it had only been four months, but the way he made you feel. The way that it had felt. It had felt final, and you’d been friends before you even started dating.

You sniffle moving yourself to the kitchen to poor yourself a glass of water as you remembered how nervous you were when you first texted him. You had acumulated quite the crush on him back in high school. As Inarazaki’s manager you were required to go to the games, and even after your team lost you had stuck around. Watched him play and cheered him on. Two weeks later you had begun to text, as friends of course. It wasn’t until four months ago that you’d gotten together.

Your anniversary was only two days prior to your break up. You both had never been one to even care about that stuff. You had agreed early on in the relationship that we wouldn’t do anything due to the distance, and the business of our schedules. You were never one for remembering things like anniversaries anyways.

He really did feel like the one. Sometimes you just know. Sometimes you can just feel it. Like, you know that feeling you get when you know something is off or you know for sure something is about to happen even without being told it’s going to. That’s what it felt like to be with kozume kenma.

You thought you knew, you thought this time, this time its for real. You thought it was finally safe to say, that he was the one. You both had even admitted to looking for each others initials in those stupid soulmate tik tok videos.

You were finally in a mature relationship with someone you could talk about anything to. You had gotten so caught up in it, that you didn’t even see the end creeping up on you.

↝

You’d finally gained the courage to text him again. Unfortunately it was in a drunken daze. Your hands shaking as you fumbled with your phone typing things you’d come to regret in the morning. You’d sent him a series of texts telling him how much you missed him, how you didn’t understand how he was so okay. You had been a wreck that night. One of your friends puking in her toilet as you cried. You were happy of course that he was doing so well, but you’d been a wreck for so long and he hadn’t even changed. You told him you wished you could be okay.

When you’d awoken the next morning hair knotted in a complete mess and wiping drool from your chin your heart had sunk even lower. His response was cold. You knew that kenma could be cold. You knew that it was just who he was, but this particular text had felt so unfeeling and unfamiliar, it was as if he hadn’t even sent it himself. He had only ever talked like this to you once and that was when you first became friends all those years ago.

Kozume ❤️

Hey, it’s okay. And yeah you see what I choose to put up. I could be better. But I choose to stay optimistic and busy. Sorry that things are this way.

You had never seen so many periods in a text before. He only used grammar like that when he was peeved, and maybe you were wrong, maybe he’d done that on purpose, but it had hurt so bad. It had caused an ache so deep in your chest that you weren’t sure if you’d ever even dated him at all.

Yeah.

It was the only thing you could bring yourself to respond back with. How were you supposed to respond to that? You’d stared at it for so long and after you’d sent it you wished you had said more. Wished you would’ve said something more insightful than a simple, heartbroken, “yeah.”

Not too long later there was another ping and you held your breath. His name briefly appearing across your screen.

Yeah. I could be better. But I hope you do well soon. I’m sorry that I can’t really do much to help out

And of course you did the only thing you could do. Deflect. Pretend like you hadn’t said what you’d said not even fourteen hours ago.

No it’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry that you could be doing better.

He left you on seen. You knew you sounded like an asshole. At least to you, you felt like an asshole. Why couldn’t you have come up with something else. Why couldn’t you tell him the truth. Tell him how you felt. Tell him that you didn’t think you should be broken up anymore. That the month long cruel joke was over and you were ready to spend your nights falling asleep to him playing video games again. You didn’t though, and you never would. You’re not brave enough, too prideful to even try.

You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat as you realized even if you did beg him. Begged him to take you back. Tell him that you still love him. You were too late, and you just couldn’t be selfish when it comes to him. He is over you and it was so plainly obvious. You know that deep down. Know that he’s moved on, and it kills you inside. So you did the only thing you could do. Try and put it into words.

So as you lay in bed the warm body you let occupy your space sound asleep beside you, his toned blonde hair tousled slightly and you sighed. Finally away from the shenanigans of your friends you took a deep breath before you closed your eyes.

You opened up your notes app again and scrolled past the last entry. You swallowed again as you blinked the tears out of your eyes. Your thumbs beginning to move before you even gave them permission.

Wednesday June 30th 2022 1:39 Am

Here I am again. Stuck. Stuck in the same place I’ve been for so long. You know, I write so beautifully when I’m broken. I’m most of my best work is written when I’m being torn apart. But I just, I can’t seem to find the words. I can’t seem to put it into a document and turn out little story into a different story to cope. Can’t seem to write it out. Can’t seem to move on.

I hovered over the unfollow button on your page today, to keep myself from scrolling through your things again. To keep myself from getting hurt. So I don’t have to be reminded. I want to delete it. Delete where we officially met. On a chat through my screen. I wanna wipe the messages clean. And I’ve tried. Oh how I’ve tried. But I can’t.

I want to delete our conversations. The hours long talks we had, but then, what happens afterwards? What keeps the memories alive. I’d never been so in love with someone before. I’ve never actually…. Been in love before. I thought I’d been in love, but it didn’t feel like that, and losing them never hurt like this. Losing someone has never hurt this bad before.

I’ve never felt the emptiness you left so deep in my very being with anyone I’ve ever met before. I can’t seem to pull myself together. And it’s pathetic I know. It’s pathetic that I’m still here. In the same place I was a month ago. It’s about to be two months we’ve haven’t been together. I’m hurting. Hurting so bad. It’s painful to look at you.

I haven’t deleted the photos even though I probably should. They’re still tucked away in an album in my camera roll labeled “us <3” the one one I made specially just for you. The way I’d been so excited when I was finally ready to tell my friends. I even have this stupid notes folder from when we were dating where I wrote all the little things about you that I never wanted to forget. I find you so endearing. Everything you do. I just couldn’t help but right it down to keep it safe so it never leaves my mind. So that I never forget. But now, forgetting is all I want to do.

I never thought there’d be a time in my life where I was more emotionally stunted that I normally. So stunted I can’t even put this, our split up, into words. Make it something entertaining for somebody else to read. Write a book about it. My publicist keeps asking when the sequel for my book will be done. I don’t know if it’ll ever be finished. I can’t do the one thing I’ve always been good at. I’m crying as I write this.

And I wish it would just end here in this little notes app. Wish the love would die in here. I always think I’m over you and then I see you again, and nowadays your everywhere. A very big hit and I’m happy for you and your success, but seeing you makes my heart squeeze in my chest.

I think I’m over you until I play that stupid fucking game that causes me to scream at my phone, or my laptop in frustration, but I just can’t seem to delete it because I know it’s something that you love. That show we used to talk about. I know you know which one, I can’t seem to watch it without thinking of what was. You’ve ruined it forever cause now it only reminds me of you. I know you’ll never see this, but I like to imagine you can. That my time for closure has somehow come.

When you told me you were sorry that things were this way, it was a real slap in the face. It stopped my false hope. My wishing. It all came to a halt. I’m glad. Glad that you’re happier. That you’re better without me. But god, now I’m so fucked up and I can’t even talk to you.

You were the only person I had left. The only one who understood me. And now you’re gone. You took a part of me with you that night. A part that I’ll never get back. I should’ve known that you would leave. I’ve never been able to get someone to stay for longer than three to four months.

I thought I could let my guard down though. I thought we were in the clear. I’d thought finally. Finally someone is gonna stay. I thought you were my person. I still think that to this day. I thought we were gonna make it. And now I’m with this guy I don’t even like. He’s not you, he doesn’t act like you. He doesn’t like video games like you do.

He doesn’t talk to me like you do. Like you did. But you know how it ended I don’t need to put it here. Unfortunately I’ll always love you even if you don’t love me. This is so scattered, I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy.

With that you closed the app and put down your phone. Plugging in it and as it dinged miya atsumu rolled over in his sleep. He reached for you his hands wrapping around your waist to tug you against his strong body.

His gravely voice whispering through sleep, “mmm finally decided to come to bed?” You hum moving an arm under on of his to wrap around his thin waist. “Mhm, thought you might need the company.” You began to draw little shapes and letters against his back as he chuckled, “oh yea? How thoughtful of you princess.”

Suddenly it was quiet and your closed eyes opened to his wide brown ones, his eyebrows furrowing .

“Did you just spell kozume on my back?”

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lovetendencies · 3 years

Text

DRACO MALFOY in WISH YOU WERE HERE

tw / blood, self-harm!

Your heart ached as you saw your first child, your first baby, get on the train to Hogwarts. The school you and the love of your life went to—Draco Malfoy.

He waved off his kid with a small side smile, looking at him with pure happiness in his eyes. Once you two had gone home, he didn’t hesitate to fall against the dark grey couch as he had rubbed his temples.

The time you and Draco had shared was with difficulties, hatred, and genuine memories. It wasn’t the best as he’d call out to you in the same time he’d done with Hermione Granger before, mumbling and yelling out: “You stupid Mudblood!” and after he’s asked for your hand to the Yule Ball in your fourth years, he’s apologized profusely with gritted teeth and ignorance, trying to maintain his image as he gazed upon his Slytherin gang and friends who laughed under their breaths.

You, too, had also maintained your image. You were associated with the trio themselves, they’d look at you from time to time with raised eyebrows and side smiles, hoping you’d give them secrets Draco has never told anyone. “So, tell me, does he wet the bed?” Ron asked intrigued, leaning in against the table with a wide smile. He and Harry had hoped you’d say yes but you couldn’t tell them anything—especially after he’d been vulnerable with you. “Look at her, dancing with Krum,” Ron mumbled under his breath as his date, Padma Patil, rolled her eyes.

If there was one thing that Draco Malfoy said to you during the Battle of Hogwarts, looking pale and ill, he hated you. “I just used you to get closer to Harry. I’ve not once loved you nor have I ever meant anything I’ve said,” he spat, his eyebrows furrowed while glaring you down while his hair was starting to fall apart, the gel he would attempt to roll his hair back. “I was confidential, meaning it was purely business and everything we did didn’t mean anything. I would never fall in love with a girl—who didn’t even know this world could have possibly existed!” Draco’s aunt, who you have met multiple times, Bellatrix Lestrange crept up behind him with a creepy and wide smirk.

“You hear him,” She whispered. “He didn’t love you, never have, and never will,” Bellatrix’s back begun to straighten as she raised her wand, pointing directly at you as you kept your ground. You didn’t bother to move or glance away the slightest bit—despite what you’ve heard, mortified, and disappointed at the fact you had thought at the time you captured his heart and he had yours. “You better get moving, little girl, for this is the only time I’ll ever be generous to let one of my victims leave alive and well,” She twisted her wand towards you. But all the time, you kept looking at Draco with pity and disappointment.

But he, too, had raised his wand with wobbly lips and soon to be a hard gaze filled with hatred and stone cold. You saw how hard his eyes were, as if everything really didn’t mean anything at all, when you two had shared a night with love and tenderness and at that fact, your first love, Draco Malfoy. But even in those times, you didn’t believe Draco could’ve said that by himself, he looked at you still with the same love and care he did that night. He almost looked as though he didn’t want you to leave—but in the situation, he wanted you to.

He had risked everything to make sure your safety was assured even if his was put in vain—even if he believed that you truly loved him when he had fought many times in his head that you didn’t, that you were a spy for the trio and order. Still, he told you everything but not this, not this. “Draco, is this all true?” was one of the first things you’ve spoken that day. Soon after you said that, Lucius and Narcissa crept up behind Bellatrix and Draco, surprised that their own son would raise his wand to the girl he shared many moments of weakness with—even if they hadn’t known about it but still, surprised.

“I lost interest in you the moment you spoke about your stupid life,” he spat out, his voice cold. “Your filthy parents, the way you’d smile each time you spoke about them, and the way you’d like everyone even when they didn’t like you back,” he rolled his eyes. “I wondered how a girl like you could ever be or think that way,” he paused, taking deep inhales. “But then it hit me, you were broken. Nobody ever liked you when you were a poor, weak of a girl, so you changed yourself. Everything you said to me, I told to everyone at the table,” Draco’s voice cracked for a second, his hand had trembled for a moment before he collected himself.

“As if I could ever love someone like you, a filthy muggleborn of a girl,” and it was left at that. Bellatrix had smirked and begun to laugh at his words, looking back and forth at you and Draco and in the corner of your eyes, you heard Narcissa’s breath hitch and Lucius adjust himself uncomfortably. “Now, run along and go tell the order, if I assume they’ll still take you back for betraying them,” Bellatrix laughed harder, her wand still pointed at you until she began to back you up against a hard black door, shutting you out.

At that time, you hadn’t known what to do as you betrayed Harry coldheartedly and just as importantly, your best friend, Hermione. You didn’t know what to do because you were all alone, once again, and after the Battle. It was a surprise that Hermione still took you in once she saw how dreadful you looked, your clothes torn apart in some places, blood trickling down your forehead from the crucios Bellatrix had put on you before he had walked in. “I’ll still love you,” Hermione whispered, embracing you tightly as she endured the hours of crying.

“I knew he loved you. I knew he did—didn’t you see the way he looked at you across the Great Hall? When he’d stare at you across the room with a smile?” Hermione whispered, side-hugging you as she rest her head against the top of yours. “But it wasn’t true, Hermione. Everything I said to him, he told them, he said everything. And I thought I could trust him, and he betrayed me like that even if I tried to look for hope,” you mumbled, small sniffles as you tried to collect and maintain yourself.

A small voice in your head would laugh and whisper degrading things—Harry and Ron would look at you with skepticism but soon it vanished when they saw how ill and broken you looked, weak in Hermione’s arms she wouldn’t open to just anyone, if anything, they had learned to trust you like each other.

After the Battle, Draco had attempted multiple times to reconcile, saying things like he hadn’t meant anything and he done it to make sure you were safe. “Do you think I’d do that for just anyone?” he whispered, his face deep in his hands. “Do you really think I’d do that for any other girl? That I would really let go of everything we’ve built together?” Each time he spoke, the words he’d spit out were genuine and voice cracks each time he mentioned the crude and hurtful things he said to you. “The girl who trusted me enough to tell me about her problems, how she was hurting on the inside, and that’s one of the reasons why I fallen in love with you in the first place,” he whispered.

“Right from the start, you immediately stole my heart. I used to hate how high you kept your head when I possibly couldn’t even when anyone would say you were nothing, you still kept your head held high. I used to hate the smile like it was saying you were okay, that you were happy regardless, and I hate to think of myself—when I saw you that evening, that I was the reason you wouldn’t smile ever again,” Draco inhaled sharply, his face deep in his hands. “Even more so, a muggle girl, my parents would have never approved of you and it should have been a red flag for you when they accepted you,”

“After the many times I’ve said that they hated muggleborns,” Draco finally had the courage to look up from his hands and to you, his ocean blue eyes were deep and sorrow, and looked as though he never slept since the war. “That was my warning sign for you but when you told me that you were happy when you met them. I felt guilty for using you,” the way he said it was enough to make you burst into tears, remembering you took the torture just so Draco could be safe and not a strand of hair touched on his head, and his black suit clean.

“If I made you think I didn’t love you,” Draco whispered. “Then I’m so sorry—but I didn’t know you’d have been hurt this way. I thought I was doing what was right at the time, and that you’d never have been harmed,” he fidgeted with his fingers, one of his nails were painted Red like that night when you had painted his nails at the lake, when you guys shared a night in his dorm room. “But please don’t hate me,” was one of the last things he said.

“I’m still in love with you, Draco,” you whispered. “Because that’s what this stupid and filthy muggle of a girl is like,” it looked as though his heart was about to burst out of his chest and his expressions looked as though he were surprised. “Despite everything, I tried to push you away—but I couldn’t even if Hermione would urge me to,” you chuckled, remembering the times she’d threaten to take away your prized and favourited possession. “And I forgive you after everything. So please, don’t cry anymore, my Snowman,” he chuckled, recalling the time you guys built a snowman family with the amount of children you two would have.

You reached out your hand to him and he hesitantly, looking up at you and your hand until he took it into his own, resting his cheek against yours. It was enough to completely shatter you. He was yours again—and you were his. “I’m never leaving you again,” he whispered. “Never will I part from you. I’ll make sure nobody hurts you,” it had taken time for you two to rebuild a relationship. He’d look guilty from time to time but he learned to let go of the past—and when he had shown you the Dark Mark on his left wrist, it torn you apart again.

There was dark red outlines on his skin around the Dark Mark, there were scars, and it looked as though he had tried multiple solutions to get rid of it. But it wasn’t something to get rid of that easily, and slowly as time went on—with you, he accepted it. Still, at nights, he’d have nightmares, whimper and cry in his sleep, and he’d sweat profusely. He was, and with your help, learning to let go of everything.

Draco had gotten up from the couch, raising up his sleeves as he had crept up from behind you, your apron he had bought you for your birthday he fiddled with as his arms travelled around your waist. “I never meant to fall in love,” he whispered. “But I went and did a dangerous game that almost didn’t give me the wife I love so dearly and a kid I’d die for,” Draco kissed the back of your neck as he pushed aside the cutting board, making sure you were looking outside the window that seemed so familiar.

“I don’t care about anything except you and the family we created together,” he wrapped his arms around your stomach, there, was another baby. “And I continue to hope and watch what the future holds for us and what we’re expecting,” he smiled, turning you around to meet the kisses he planted on your forehead. “I was close to losing you. But you had taken me back, accepted me, all while you still loved me as I felt the same way,” Draco whispered.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he spoke multiple times with delicacy in his voice.

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