#did you see how he grimaced when the full weight of the bond hit him

[obey-me-headquarters]

Bark bark Pet AU Lucifer... Maybe he was a show demon but now that he's old he got tossed, poor dear.... Now you can give him a nice retirement in your home with plenty of preening and kisses 🥺🥺🥺 He's still pretty even if he's "out of date". From: obey-r-us

👀👀👀 omg that is such a good thank you!!

I can totally see Lucifer being a show demon! His black wings are a rare trait for demons to have, plus his pride really leans into the "show dog" persona.

I imagine as a show demon, Lucifer lead a very.... practical life. His accommodations were nicer than a typical demon, as his handlers didn't want him to get stressed and lose his shine. But he was often emotionally and physically neglected. He didn't have an owner to cuddle him or run their fingers through his hair. So for most of his life he never really bonded with anyone.

I imagine getting tossed was extremely stressful for Luci. His life was full of routine. Wake up, eat what he's supposed, work out, and get ready for the next show. As he got older and noticed that he wasn't coming in first as much he gets a little annoyed but also scared. What else was for him of he couldn't perform? What would happen to him?

He tries to do better, to prove to the judges and his handlers that he was wroth keeping around, that he could get first place like he did before. But as his gray hair grew in and his eyes got crow feet the handlers spent less time and effort on him.

On the day he got tossed he was extremely stressed, trying to talk his handlers out of it. It isn't until one of them hits him does he realize that there's no going back. No one has ever hit him before because he needed to be in prime shape for shows, so them hitting him affirms that there's no going back. He's really going to be abandoned.

He try to rationalize it in his head, telling himself what's going to happen so he doesn't get surprised. No amount of talk could have perpared him for the kennels. So small that he could barely stand in, he had no hope to keep up his appearance and work out. Not to mention the food, he was kept on a strict diet before, and the mesh they fed him now he could barely stomach. He lost a lot of muscle and weight in the kennels.

Maybe your not the first to adopt him. Others try to adopt him to be a house pet or even a companion because they think he would look go in a suit as their butler. But Licifer is not at all prepared to be a house pet. He prefers standing, and can't help but grimace whenever he's forced to his knees.

Owners complained about his pride, saying that he holds himself too highly for a old show demon that can't even win a contest now. Punishment is also something Lucifer wasn't used to, now matter how much he tries to pretend that he's a tough demon.

When you finally come along Lucifer has been throughly wrecked. The stress from his old houses, and his lack of weight has completely killed his self image. But he still can't stop himself from holding a certain amount of Pride. He still walks and talks like a show demon walking down the runway.

Lucifer is prepared for suffering when you first take him in, for punishments and abuse. He wasn't expecting you to be so kind. To give him a warm bed like he had when he was a show demon. To feed him warm food and not garbage. To not mind that he prefers to walk on two legs instead of crawling.

He wasn't expecting the gentle care you provide, and when you gently thread your hands through his hair he can't help but melt into the feeling. Never getting so held so gently before Lucifer can't help but hold tightly onto you.

You even buy him fancy product for his hair and wings, carefully helping him preen his feathers. Soon he's able to look at his wings with pride again. Even though he's still uncomfortable with taking off his clothing, you never push him, letting him cover up.

When you first told him you thought he was pretty he scoffed, not believing it for a second. How could he be pretty? With his gray hair, and crows feet, and dull feathers, and skinny body? He was beautiful before, now he's nothing. But as you cuddle him close, press gentle kisses on his forehead, when you look at him with such *pride* he slowly starts to believe it too.

And when he returns to a healthy weight, when his wings shine, when he's wearing the fancy clothes you got him, Lucifer has to agree with you that he's beautiful. Even though he looks nothing like he did before.

#thank ya for the prompt!! #as you can prompty tell im in a pet mood today lol #yall send in your ideas and ill see if i can do anything with em!! #ask #obey me pet au

[abovexhorizons]

Anonymous asked:

Your father will get her back from you Isa. Nowhere is safe even if you think it is. The walls have ears, the streets have eyes.

We will find your safe havens, your contacts, your so called friends, we will see just how much they value this disgusting bond you say is friendship, no bond can last when money talks, or more persuasive methods must be employed.

So you can run, run and hide, that little fox minx will be returned to your father soon enough. He will get what he is owed. And your punishment will come. You will pay for your treachery.

Each word was a dagger, dipped in the finest poison one could find; each syllable a jab at the heart, every pause giving cause for concern.

She'd had nightmares about this; pleasant dreams turning into the darkest terrors that they'd be found, that he'd still be looking for them. That crossing the mountain and escaping to the far-reaches of the Estal Republic and beyond wouldn't save them.

That no matter what she did, that no matter how hard she'd try, Isa would always be found wanting. Was it a cruel trick, played by the Gods? Was it fate, binding her back to her home, that'd make her incapable of fulfilling her task, her mission, her goal?

"You're wrong!"

Isa's words were slung forth like steel, the weight of her conviction carried on them. She had to believe that this would work; that there was no way they'd ever be caught and captured. The sheer idea of the abuse he'd inflict on them both was enough to cause a crack in her soul of steel.

That he wouldn't be able to weave his darkness back into their hearts, minds, bodies and souls. That Gylbard wouldn't get his prized toy back in his possession.

"Y-You're wrong..."

Though the more she thought about it, the further into dread she fell; eyes once full of hope softening into clouded judgement as she thought about the implications of what they were saying. Of what they meant.

Her hand shakily gripped the hilt of her sword to steady herself; mentally and physically. Isa felt like she needed an anchor, something to keep her mind from dissociating the trauma that came with thinking about her past.

About what they did to Rika; herself included.

"You're... Wrong. My friends wouldn't give up on me; on us, on this dream. We all share a desire to see Rika returned home safely-- why can't you see that? Why would you bid her suffer more? Hasn't she been through enough?"

Almost at the edge of tears, Isa could only hold herself together by a thread; a dry gulp of lumpy saliva the only moisture her mouth could muster.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together an argument to get this person to be quiet; to get him to leave her thoughts all-together. She'd promised not to resort to violence first herself; a vow she would not break now.

But, perhaps it was for the better? Perhaps, if this person died, they'd be safe. If she killed everyone that opposed them first, then by right, Rika and herself would emerge victorious.

But where did she draw the line? Was it just people that antagonized her, or was it those that refused a barter? Perhaps people that hit on either of them, or men that looked at Rika like a fleshlight?

It was too much to consider at once; her frown tugging into a grimace as she tried to muster the courage to argue back.

"You're wrong about one thing, though. I will never let Rika fall back into my fathers hands, no matter what; this, I solemnly vow with all my heart. They can use me, abuse me, disembowel me in front of the entire world for all I care; but I will never let harm come to Rika."

It was a strange boost of confidence, as if the words carried greater weight than they truly did. Isa was just one woman; this she knew.

"I will endure the exile, and I will find her peace at the end of our journey. You cannot stop us. You cannot stop me."

#{Knight clad in Shining Armor | Isa} #THIS IS THE GOOD SHIT #Anon Ask

[honey-dewey]

Gold in the Summertime

Pairing:  Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 2,545

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of injury, stitches, and needles, but it’s mostly just that sweet sweet hurt/comfort

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Very few good things ever happen at three AM in the Urgent Care. Let’s make a short list of things that will definitely not fall under the category of ‘good.’ 1) Having a patient who has apparently injured himself but refuses to tell you how. 2) Said patient hyperventilating and panicking until he actually breaks something because you tried to give him a tetanus shot. 3) The same patient’s three best friends yelling at you. 4) Singing to still the same patient to calm him down so you can stick him with a tiny needle so he won’t possibly die of tetanus.

A/N: The song that inspired this fic is actually a favorite of mine called ‘Gold in the Summertime’ by Matt Nathanson. Not required to read the fic, but it’s a cute song. 

“Hey.” 

“Oh hell no,” you said, turning to see your fellow night shift nurse, Tori, standing in the door of the break room. “No, I am not dealing with whatever drunken fool walked into that waiting room. It is three in the morning and I do not feel like screwing around right now.” 

Tori raised an eyebrow. “Done?” 

“Done,” you said, standing and preparing for the inevitable. “Who’s the patient?” 

Tori handed you a file. You opened it, quickly scanning the information. F. Morales, forty two years old, in decent health, up to date with all his immunizations, served in the military, and was currently in the Urgent Care for a laceration on his left shoulder. 

“How bad is it?” You asked, closing the file and following Tori to the waiting room. 

“Eh,” she said with a shrug. “He isn’t gushing blood, so it’s not ER worthy. Probably just needs some stitches and a tetanus shot, depending on what got him.” 

You blinked. “He didn’t say?” 

Tori grinned. “Nope. Have fun.” 

Groaning to yourself, you opened the waiting room door. “Morales?” 

A man stood up, clearly the injured one in his group of friends due to the wad of cloth he was pressing to his left shoulder. “Yes?” 

“Follow me,” you said, tucking the file beneath your arm. “So, what happened?” 

The man grimaced. “Uh, I busted my shoulder.” 

“How?” 

The man was silent as you pushed open an exam room door and gestured him inside. “Well?” 

“Well what?” 

You sighed. “How’d you cut yourself?” You asked again, watching the man hop up on the exam table. You walked around to his back and slowly cut away the patch of his shirt that covered his shoulder. “And while you’re at it, you got a first name I could use, Mr. Morales?” 

“Please just call me Frankie, most people do.” 

“Most people?” 

Frankie shifted as you examined the harsh tear in the skin. “My friends, those assholes outside, call me Catfish.” 

You chuckled. “Military nickname?” 

“Yeah.” Frankie winced as you pressed a finger against the wound. 

A beat of silence, and then you had another question. “Is Frankie your legal name?” 

“No, why?” 

You smiled. “We need a legal name for the records.” 

Frankie shrugged his uninjured right shoulder as you continued to evaluate the messy scrape on his left. “It’s Francisco. And that shit hurts.” 

“Sorry,” you said, stepping back. “It needs a few stitches,” you decided. “But it isn’t horribly urgent so I’m gonna go grill your buddies outside to see if they’ll give me more answers about what happened.” 

Frankie nodded, watching you leave. 

“Would the party that escorted one Francisco Morales please follow me?” You asked, pushing open the waiting room door. 

Three men stood up, and you led them down the hall a ways, so your conversation would be private. “Alright. Spill. He won’t tell me what happened.” 

The man on the left snorted. “Unsurprising,” he said. “Fish is like a damn lockbox.”

“Benny,” the man in the middle hissed, nudging the man on the left. “Santi, you wanna take this? You saw it best.” 

“Excuse you!” Benny objected. “I was there too!” 

“You’re drunk.” 

The man on the right, Santi, sighed. “Frankie got into a fight outside the bar we were at tonight. Some guy made a horrible comment about how women belong in the kitchen, I dunno, I didn’t hear that bit too well. But Frankie managed to win the fight with minimal injuries, right up until the guy’s equally shitty friend clipped his shoulder with a ripped in half beer can.” 

You nodded, jotting notes down on Frankie’s file. “So what I’m hearing is that he was cut with a piece of likely filthy metal?” 

“Yep.” 

“Perfect,” You grumbled sarcastically. “You boys can head back to the waiting room. I’ll send him out when I’m done.” 

The boys left, and you swung by the supply closet to grab a suture kit before heading back into Frankie’s exam room. “Still bleeding?” 

Frankie looked up. “Yeah.” He had taken his hat off, fidgeting with the worn out brim. “Hurts.” 

“I’ll bet,” you said, coming up behind him and gently taking his hand off the wound. “Gonna pop some stitches in, disinfect the hell out of this, then get your height, weight, the like, and send you off with a tetanus shot just for good measure. That old beer can probably doesn’t have any kind of illness, but we have to be sure.” 

Frankie was silent, which wasn’t a good thing. You disinfected the wound, which sent him into a tailspin of hissed curses in your general direction, and before he realized what was happening, you were halfway done with the stitches. 

“And that’s the last one,” you said, tying off the last stitch. “The stitches dissolve after a while, so you shouldn’t have to worry about coming back to get them removed. But do take care to change the bandages twice a day, and do not use this arm. I don’t care what you have to do, please do not rip these stitches.” 

Frankie chuckled. “Yes doctor.” 

Finishing up the bandage, you grinned at Frankie’s current shirt situation. “Do you want me to grab you a new shirt? I kinda ruined yours.” 

“You did your job,” Frankie pointed out. “But yes, that would be nice.” 

You ducked out of the room and grabbed a spare shirt from the nurse’s lost and found. “No one’s claimed this thing for almost eight months. I think the guy who owned it quit,” you said, handing Frankie the old Jack Daniels whiskey shirt. You watched him struggle to put it on, helping him a bit as the shirt got caught on his shoulder. 

“Okay, follow me,” you said once Frankie was wearing a shirt again. He followed, just as asked, and you took his height and weight, texting both figures to Tori so she could prep a tetanus shot for you. In the meantime, you kept Frankie occupied, asking him questions about military things in the exam room. 

“What’d you do in the military?” 

“I was a pilot.” 

“Planes?” 

“Helos.” 

“Fun. I’ve never been in a helicopter before. Those friends outside, are they?” 

“Military friends? Yeah, mostly. I knew Santiago before all that though.” 

A knock at the door interrupted your bonding session. Tori opened the door, holding a tray with the tetanus shot and a band-aid. “Sorry. Those shitty kids band-aids were all I could find.” 

You shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m sure Mr. Morales won’t object to a Paw Patrol band-aid.” 

However, as you turned back to Frankie, you realized he’d gone white as a sheet. “Frankie?” 

Frankie shied away from you, despite you not moving. “Don’t,” he said, voice choked. “Please.” 

Your heart squeezed at the desperation in his voice. He was very plainly terrified. “Frankie,” you repeated calmly, holding both hands up so he knew you were unarmed. “Hey, deep breaths.” 

Frankie took a stuttering breath, and you sent a silent prayer out that he wouldn’t have a panic attack here. You sat next to him, keeping a few feet of space between you and him. “Do you want me to go get the boys?” 

Frankie shook his head, eyes wide. You tried to think. Distracting him would do no good. You’d tried that before with other people, and with patients who were this panicky, a distraction made it worse. Trying to sneak up on him was somehow an even worse idea. With his background, he was likely to know when someone was trying to surprise him, and he could definitely defend himself. The only thing you could think of was calming him down and then sticking him as fast as you could. 

It took a few minutes, but Frankie’s breathing returned to normal, and his muscles relaxed somewhat. You didn’t move, simply sitting there beside him and establishing yourself as a calm figure despite your reeling mind. “Frankie?” 

He looked up at you, not saying a word. 

“Are you ready to try?” You asked. “I have to give you the shot. I don’t want you to get sick, okay? Tetanus is a killer, and I don’t wanna see you dying in a hospital bed until you’re at least eighty, okay?” 

A slow nod. You stood, making your movements obvious as you put on new gloves and opened an alcohol wipe. 

“C’mere,” you said, gesturing Frankie closer. He scooted towards you, and you met him halfway. “This is cold, just a warning.” 

You rolled up Frankie’s shirt sleeve, exposing his left shoulder. He shivered as you ran the alcohol wipe across his skin, and kept his eyes anywhere but on you as you uncapped the tiny syringe. “Frankie?” 

Frankie whined, his breathing picking up again as his body barreled towards full panic mode. 

“Frankie!” You recapped the syringe and set it aside, turning your full attention to Frankie. He jumped away from you, eyes wide once more. You stood back as he curled in on himself, breathing quickening too fast. He was hyperventilating. “Frankie! Listen to me! You’re not-“ 

You cut yourself off as the loud, ragged breaths began to turn into animalistic screams, Frankie losing his balance and falling off the exam table and crashing into the sink before hitting the floor. The thud his body made scared you, but not as much as his current panicked state. 

“Tori!” You yelled, opening the door and yelling for your coworker. “Tori!” 

Unfortunately, it was not Tori who came to your rescue. It was Frankie’s three friends, all of whom looked incredibly concerned. Tori was behind them, shouting that they couldn’t be back here. Santiago simply pushed past you and immediately rushed to Frankie’s side, the other two joining him as he attempted to console Frankie. 

You, knowing your help wouldn’t be needed, tried to step away, but Santiago turned to call you back. “Come here!” 

Sighing, you hesitantly entered the exam room. “What do you need from me?” 

“What did you do to him?” Benny asked, clearly the most worried. “He hasn’t had an attack this bad in years!” 

“I just tried to give him a tetanus shot!” You defended. 

Santiago and the other man had gotten Frankie situated back on the exam table, sitting on his sides and keeping him upright as Benny rushed in and took his hands. “Fish? You with us buddy?” 

Frankie, who had thankfully stopped screaming, whined. Benny smiled, squeezing his hands. “There’s our Fish. Hey, hey, no, look at me,” he directed as Frankie’s eyes drifted to you in the corner and his breath hitched. 

Frankie’s head slumped against Santiago’s shoulder. He hummed uncomfortably, face scrunching as he shifted, trying to get comfortable. 

“His shoulder,” you guessed softly. “Someone’s touching it.” 

The man on Frankie’s right looked at his back. “Shit. Sorry Fish.” 

Frankie sighed in relief and turned into pudding against Santiago’s shoulder. Benny still held his hands, humming softly. The other man, whose name you still didn’t know, stood and pulled you aside. “Hey. Did he tell you?” 

“That he was trypanophobic?” You said, sliding your hands in your pockets. “No. But I figured it out pretty quickly when he went white as hell as soon as he saw the syringe. No one has a reaction this severe unless they have a phobia.” 

The man nodded. “Yeah. Benny was right. Fish is kinda stubborn about these things. He hasn’t had an anxiety attack in years though. Sorry Benny gave you shit about triggering one. I know it wasn’t really your fault.” 

“It was,” you mumbled, eyeing Frankie over the man’s shoulder. “It just wasn’t my intention.” 

“Yeah.” The man looked back at Frankie. “Is the tetanus shot necessary?” 

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Santiago looked at you. “How good are you at singing?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“It keeps him calm,” Santiago explained. “He used to sing to the helos whenever there was bad turbulence. Kept him level. We’d do it while you give him the shot, but none of us can sing.” 

Frankie made a small, strangled noise, and you almost freaked out until Benny smiled and you realized Frankie was trying to laugh. 

Smiling, you grabbed the syringe, a new alcohol wipe, and the band-aid. Santiago moved so he was sitting mostly behind Frankie, still supporting him. The other man, who you faintly heard Benny call Will, sat back on Frankie’s right. Benny took Frankie’s hands and stood to the side a bit so you would have room to work. 

“Oh, let’s keep this going, I wanna go all in,” you sang softly, repeating some cute and catchy song Tori insisted on playing whenever she could. “We’ll never be lonely in the dark.” As you sang, you opened the alcohol wipe and cleaned a patch of Frankie’s shoulder. 

“Rooftop in soho, Prince on the radio,” you kept going, uncapping the syringe and taking Frankie’s arm. “The city streets glow, gold in the summertime.” You quickly, between words, stuck Frankie and pressed down on the plunger. He whined, shying from the pain, but you just pressed the band-aid over the tiny puncture mark and kept singing. “Summertime, summertime, summertime, I gotta get that feeling.” 

Gently taking Benny’s place, you stripped your gloves off and put your hands overtop Frankie’s. “You did good, Frankie,” you said. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here so the boys can take you home.” 

Frankie wobbled to his feet, still nonverbal and a bit unsteady. You ended up needing a break in the waiting room, which was still empty. Giving Santiago a bottle of water for Frankie, you sat next to Frankie while the boys started the car. 

You absently hummed the song from earlier, mostly to fill the stifling silence. As you reached the part you’d sung for Frankie, you noticed, with a small jolt, that he was humming along with you. 

“You like the song?” You guessed, and Frankie nodded. 

“Here.” You pulled a pen from your coat pocket and took his hand. “Give the whole thing a listen,” you said, scrawling down the name and artist of the song on Frankie’s hand. “And then call me,” you finished, adding your phone number below the writing. 

Frankie smiled. “Meet cute,” he rasped, voice practically destroyed. 

You laughed. “This is more of a meet ugly, but sure.” 

Santiago came back, helping Frankie to his feet. 

“See you again?” Frankie asked, voice still pretty shot.

“Hopefully not,” you said, holding the door open for Santiago. “At least, not here.” 

Just like that, Frankie was gone. 

That sunrise, as you settled into bed, you got a text from an unknown number. 

Unknown Number: Song was super cute. Definitely adding it to my exercise playlist

You: Is this Mr. Morales?

Unknown Number: Just Frankie

Unknown Number was saved as Just Frankie

You: Okay Just Frankie. How’s your shoulder

Just Frankie: Hurts like a bitch, but I’ve had worse. 

You: I’ll bet. 

Just Frankie: Hey, wanted to ask you something 

You: shoot

Just Frankie: do you always work nights?

You: not always, but mostly. 

Just Frankie: cool. You free tomorrow at noon? I found this cool lunch place that has the best burgers ever

You: ever? I’ll have to see about that

Just Frankie: it’s a date then 

You: It’s a date

#Triple Frontier #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

[90slevi]

First Date {Denki Kaminari x Reader}

Finally some wholesome fluff because why not? And who better to write fluff about that our Denki Kaminari? :)

Kaminari was shaking.

Not with fear or anything, but because he was excited. And nervous, of course, but mainly excited.

Ever since he'd left U.A to become a pro-hero, he'd had no time to go out looking for relationships or start dating, but now he had more time on his hands, he'd finally met someone online. Someone who wouldn't use him for a free meal or someone who'd use him for money and fame. Finally, he'd met someone who seemed to genuinely like him for who he was, and he couldn't be more excited as he sat in the half-full cafe, his phone in his hand as he messaged his best friend about the new girl he was just about to meet for the ninth time that day.

Nibbling on his thumb, he looked out of the large window beside him as people walked past, looking for the kind face he'd seen in many pictures and in one call. Yes, he'd only called you once, and it'd lasted over four hours as the two of you bonded over music, heroes, comic books and more interests of yours. As Kaminari thought about you more, the more excited he became; the butterflies in his stomach became heavier and heavier, and he was waiting for the cafe door to open so the weight on his shoulders could disappear.

You felt just as excited.

Focusing on your studies at a regular, non-hero school had been tough, and you'd spent so many nights revising that you hadn't had chance to jump into the dating scheme, and now you'd met the perfect person.

Denki Kaminari, the current 19th Pro-Hero with lightning-blonde hair and a contagious smile that made your heart race, was the man you'd started talking to. He was a man not only with an attractive face, but he had the sweetest personality too, something you focused on so much more. He was incredibly funny, most of the time unintentionally, and had a heart of gold, even sending you a cute little letter in the mail with a box of pocky as a gift only two weeks after messaging you. When he asked you on a date, there was no way in hell you were denying him. You even called up sick to your job just so you could go meet him, which wasn't something he needed to know.

As you walked down the street towards the cafe you were supposed to meet him in, you checked your watch and panicked. Five minutes late. Again. Picking up the pace, you held your bag close to your chest and adjusted your skirt so it wasn't rising, and finally met the entrance, praying to whoever that you'd come to the right place. Pushing open the door, you walked inside, the sweet, warm smells of blueberry muffins and strawberry jam hit your nostrils, and you couldn't help but become rather giddy.

Quickly, you scanned the cafe. It had a really pretty interior, with modern, brown and beige walls and large mirrors and windows. Vintage picture frames hung as decoration and a few realistic plants were sitting on a shelf on the far right. Tables were set neatly in rows, with couples and families sitting on almost all of them. Nibbling your thumb, you stood on your toes, looking for the familiar tuft of blonde hair that belonged to Kaminari, and when you saw him, your heart almost stopped.

He wasn't looking up; instead, he had his nose in one of the menus, presumably ordering a drink for himself before you arrived, and you rushed enthusiastically over, catching his attention instantly.

His hazel eyes lit up, and he waved happily as you arrived at the table. Standing up, he was unsure of what to do. He really wanted to hug you, but he had no idea what your boundaries were and he didn't want to overstep them already. Handshake? No, that's stupid. High-five? Completely out of the question.

Thankfully, you caught on to his mini-dilemma and pulled him into a hug, his arms wrapping around your shoulders for a few seconds before pulling away. You gave him a quick squeeze before sitting down, dropping your bag beside you and beaming.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" Kaminari said, a hint of pink appearing on his cheeks as he admired you. "You look so pretty!"

"Thank you!" you grinned, clapping your hands together at the compliment. "You look lovely too. And yeah, I got a little nervous that I'd come to the wrong place, but I'm here now! Say, how long have you been here for?"

"Only ten minutes, don't worry," he answered, and you quickly apologised for being late. "Hey! Don't worry about it! I usually get here a little early, anyway."

"Ah, so someone's eager," you joked, giggling as he became flustered. "Don't worry, you're not the only one."

His eyes lit up, and his smile seemed to be uncontrollable at this point. As mentioned before, you found his grin extremely contagious, and you couldn't help but return it as you glanced towards the menu put in front of you.

"What made you choose this place?" you asked, cocking your head at him as you glanced towards the drinks, becoming interested in the unique cocktails and milkshakes the cafe made. One that really attracted your eye was a vanilla milkshake that had a dollop of strawberry ice-cream on top with a swirl of whipped cream and marshmallows, and it seemed to peak Kaminari's curiosity too.

"Well, two of my friends bought their dates here, and they ended up getting together in the end, so why not give it a shot?" he said, and you chuckled at his explanation. You were so glad he was just as eager as you were about him, and you prayed this all went well because he was probably the sweetest guy you'd ever met. "Ah, sorry, was that a bit too up-front?"

"No, I feel the same," you grinned, trying your best to comfort the poor guy. He seemed to be trying his best but couldn't help himself from rushing, and you couldn't blame him. He was a single pro-hero, while all his other friends were in relationships and one or two even married. "It's nice to be honest!"

"Heh, I'm glad you think that, because from what I've heard, other girls think it's weird," Kaminari chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well, you've clearly not met many girls who like you for who you are," you beamed, and his eyes, once again, lit up in excitement. "But I do, so hello!"

Kaminari was completely and utterly in love.

However, before their conversations could continue, a waitress wandered over, wearing the cute uniform you used to wear before beginning a different job. A cute, light brown blouse and black trousers with a beige apron over the top was the perfect uniform, at least in your eyes.

"Good evening, guys!" the woman said enthusiastically, a wide smile on her face as she held a clipboard in her hands. "May I take your drink orders?"

"Sure!" Kaminari replied, glancing over to you to make sure you were ready. However, to give you a tiny bit more time, he decided to speak first. "I'll take the iced coffee with chocolate sauce and vanilla ice-cream, please!"

"And you?" the waitress asked politely to you as she wrote down Kaminari's drink. You pouted as you read one of the options you were particularly drawn to, and the blonde couldn't help but watch at the cute things you did without realising it.

When he'd called you for the first time, he'd picked up on so many of your adorable mannerisms that even you yourself hadn't noticed, and he couldn't help but poke fun of you every time you did them. Now, he had found another to tease you about, and he couldn't wait to see your pretty reaction to it.

"I'll have this!" you said, pointing to the name you struggled to pronounce. The waitress glanced over and nodded, noting it down. It was the vanilla milkshake you'd spotted earlier, and you thanked her as she walked away. "Yo, how the hell do you say that?!"

Kaminari looked over, his eyebrows furrowed, and he almost snorted at the funny spelling. "You're asking the one who had dyslexia, Y/n. I have absolutely no idea what that says."

Grimacing, you wondered why the hell you'd chosen the drink you couldn't say, but thankfully you'd saved yourself from embarrassment by NOT saying it. However, Kaminari had a smug grin on his face, and you cocked your head at him in confusion.

"Y'know how I was making fun of you for sticking your tongue out when you write the other day?" he asked, and you nodded slowly, hoping to dear God you didn't just do that. "Well, you pouted when you read the menu, and it was probably the cutest thing ever."

"Oh no!" you complained, a laugh escaping your lips as you buried your face into your hands. Kaminari joined in with your laughter, watching as the tips of your ears went pink. "You're joking! I haven't done that since I was a damn kid!"

"Well, you've done it again," Kaminari grinned, glad he'd bought it up just to see your reaction. "And I love it!"

About an hour and a half passed, the two of you joking around and laughing as you ordered meals and deserts. You completely adored the guy, his optimism, positivity, and enthusiasm rubbing off on you so much that you now had a better outlook on life. He constantly threw cheesy pick-up lines at you that you'd expect to hear in middle-school, but at the same time, it was refreshing and fun instead of completely cringy, and at one point, you played footsie under the table to the point where you hit your ankle on the table leg so badly you audibly said ouch. He didn't even judge you when you dropped food on your shirt and cursed a little loudly by accident, instead laughing with you and grabbing a tissue as quickly as possible so it hopefully didn't stain your shirt.

And, because you were having so much fun, you didn't notice it get dark outside.

"Oh sugar," you muttered suddenly, glancing outside the window as the sun passed the horizon and the sky went from a light blue and orange to navy blue and purple. You gulped, becoming rather nervous, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Kaminari noticed your sudden change in attitude, and he took your hand in concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked, genuinely caring.

"It's getting dark," you answered, nibbling on your finger. "And I walked here... I don't fancy getting attacked by a villain."

"I can always walk you home if you need it," Kaminari offered, and you looked at him guiltily, not wanting him to go all the way to your house as it'd take him longer to get home. "Y/n, if it means spending more time with you, then I really don't mind. In fact, I'd love that!"

Pink spread across your cheeks at the flirtatious compliment, and you nodded gently. Although you still felt pretty guilty, you wanted to spend more time with the guy, and that gave you a giddiness you hadn't felt since you were a teenager. That same giddiness you'd felt after falling in love for the first time. Hopefully, this time, you wouldn't be completely crushed.

"Split the bill?" you asked Kaminari, and he raised an eyebrow.

"I was gonna pay the whole thing!"

"Absolutely not!" you exclaimed, pulling your purse out of your bag and rummaging around for your card. "I'll pay exactly half. It's only fair, right?"

"If you insist," the blonde chuckled, taking out his own card and paying at the bar, where the same waitress was standing. You wandered over and did the same, pulling your jacket over your shoulders and eventually putting your card back in your bag. The two of you bid your farewells to the cafe owners, before wandering down the dark street.

It was obvious you were nervous, and with good reason, too. Only a year ago, you'd been walking alone from a friend's house and been attacked by a villain, who'd not only assaulted you but stole your bag too. It'd left you both traumatised and terrified of being alone in the dark, so it was suitable for Kaminari to offer to walk you home. He'd known this since the call you'd had, which you'd accidentally blurted out your deepest secret of having a fear of the dark. Of course, it was only natural for him to ask why, and you explained the whole story.

If anyone tried to hurt you, he'd absolutely tear them to shreds.

As the two of you walked, your hands eventually interlocked, your fingers linking with his as a cool autumn breeze danced around your body, leaving small goosebumps on your skin. A happy smile appeared on Kaminari's face as he gave your hand a squeeze, and you returned the little gesture.

"So, how far away is your house?" he asked, and you pointed down the street you were on.

"You go down there, turn left, and take another right," you explained, and he nodded. "It's not too far, about a ten-minute walk, but it's still a little scary."

"Yeah, I wasn't the biggest fan of the dark when I was younger," Kaminari chuckled, glancing down an alleyway as the two of you passed it. Since he became a professional hero within the top twenty ranks, he'd clearly become much more aware of his surroundings and even a little paranoid, praying he wasn't going to be ambushed. He had of course warned you of the dangers of dating a pro-hero, but you really didn't care. Whether he was a pro-hero or not, you loved him a lot. "And my house was right next to U.A, so it was pretty ridiculous!"

You giggled, imagining what Kaminari was like when he was younger. You'd been told by one of his friends that he'd been a total flirt and a bit of an idiot, and you saw that he hadn't exactly changed much. Which was good, because he was definitely your type.

Eventually, you reached your house with no problem at all. At one point, he'd let a small spark of electricity emit from his hand to light the way when you became particularly nervous passing the same alleyway you'd been assaulted in, but you sighed with relief when you entered your warm home.

"Thank you so much for the amazing evening," you beamed, and Kaminari grinned.

"It's honestly been such a great day, so thank YOU," he replied, and you smiled at his comments. "I really hope you're free tomorrow because I've got some free time that afternoon and I'd love to call you again."

"I can make time if you'd like," you chuckled, and his smile grew. "I should finish work at about 4pm."

"That's great! I think I finish at about 5, so we can call if you want!" Kaminari exclaimed enthusiastically, and at that moment, something just took over.

You kissed him.

Your lips met his so suddenly that the blonde was in so much shock to even move, but once he realised what was going on, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed into the kiss, his slightly chapped yet perfectly-shaped lips merging with yours. And, once you pulled away, he gave you a quick peck on the forehead for good measure. Your face was pink, surprised with what you'd done, and so was Kaminari.

"Well, I'll be seeing you tomorrow," he said, making you laugh. "Have a great night, Y/n."

"You too, Denki!" you beamed, waving as he left the premises. “Get home safely, and sleep well!”

#denki kaminari #kaminari #kaminari x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #anime #fanfiction #kaminari is dyslexic

[hardyimagines]

Unofficially Official

drabble to get me motivated 💕

Warnings: mild smut, mentions of blood and wounds, swearing.

———————————————————————

The sky was dusted in a visible, murky fog. It covered the skyline, making the clouds in the air invisible. The trees surrounding the green river were naked and broken. The leaves that should’ve been coating the wooden branches were gone, little flakes of orange and green remnants still attached to the limbs on the ground.

The roaring of the river was loud. It drowned out the sounds of any nearby enemies. The boat you were on was stuffed full of men. There were about 20 of them and each one was special to you in one way or another — but one man was a little more special. You’d never necessarily told him, but you did your best to make it clear. And he wasn’t an idiot, so you were positive he knew.

It was four months ago when these men had been at home, hidden in small tents and little huts they’d built to keep them from freezing to death. The men shared a small house, forced to bunk together to provide warmth and use less necessities. You’d been on the river with your brother, going on an adventure that he’d begged and begged and begged you to come along on. With a lot of asking and asking and asking, you finally caved. And it was something you wished you’d never done. The river was too rough for someone so inexperienced, he hadn’t been able to control the steering and the piece of shit had fallen apart the second it hit a rock too sturdy to be knocked out of place. The river took your brother before you had a chance to even look in his direction. You’d never felt so cold, so lonely, and so broken in such a short span of time as you did in that moment.

You’d been alone for a week, curled up beneath the small, provided warmth of big trees and the blankets that had drifted to shore. If there was one thing your father had taught you when he would take you and your brother hunting, it was how to start a fire. So that was what you did. A fire to keep you warm, to dry the blankets, to cook what little food you could find. You didn’t have the stomach to kill anything other than a fish, no matter how hard you tried, it just left you watery-eyed and frowning. Killing a harmless creature wasn’t ideal when the fish in the pond were available. You hated fish, the smell — the taste, but you didn’t want to starve to death.

You walked in the daytime. You searched for a place to go. You searched for people. And you’d eventually found them. You’d found their little hideaway all because of the glow from the fire they had and the smoke that lifted from the top of it.

“She can’t hear you.” Glass pointed out. The man was kneeling at the front of the boat with his son, Hawk. The pair had their guns aimed at the surrounding cliffs, watching for any sudden movements. “Been daydreaming all day.” He told Fitzgerald.

John Fitzgerald was very special to you. He was cold, mean, angry, determined. He found it easy to lie to his group in order to get what he wanted. He stood tall, broad, with icy blue eyes and a full snow-dusted beard. He always wore a bandana around his head to cover the scar from when he had been scalped. The bandana was covered by the hood of his favorite green coat and on top of that a thick brown one. The man had been the first one you’d bonded with when you found their settlement. He hadn’t liked you much, he found you annoying and clingy — but overtime, he realized that he was just convincing himself he felt that way because it was a lot easier than admitting he was actually attracted to you.

“Wasn’t talking to you, was I, boy.” It wasn’t a question. Fitzgerald lifted his fingers to his chin, scratching at his facial hair before he moved over to you. “Y/n.” His fingertips grazed the underside of your chin before dragging your face toward his own.

You blinked once and then twice before your eyes fluttered. You were pulled back to reality. Peering up at the much taller man, you stood from your position on the wobbling barrel. Your hand moved to his forearm, squeezing it softly. “Mh? Sorry..”

“What were you thinking about?” He broadened his shoulders. Your eyes moved along his face, scanning the dirt that stained his skin. He had speckles and stains of blood on his cheeks near his sideburns.

Your sweet eyes moved along his face before you lifted you hand to his cheek. Brushing your warm fingers along his cold skin, he leaned into your touch discreetly. “You.” You whispered softly before letting your hand fall to lay against his chest. Curling your fingers in the front of his coat, you tugged him toward you with a soft sigh. “Come on, you look like shit.” Twisting around on your heel, you released the man and moved around the side of the boat toward the back. There was a bucket of water and some dirty cloths in a pile.

Fitzgerald was hot on your heels, boots thumping noisily against the floor of the boat. All of the men watched the pair of you go before directing their stares back to what was truly important and that was keeping an eye out for the Arikara.

“What’re you bringing me all the way back here for?” He inquired before leaning majority of his weight against the sturdy wall at the back. He tongued his cheek and watched the way you grabbed one of the cloths from the floor. You sunk the dry material into the bucket, soaking it. You looked over your shoulder toward him.

“You won’t clean yourself so,” Removing the cloth from the water, you turned on the heel of your boot and moved in his direction. “I’ll have to do it for you.” Coming to a stop in front of him, you drew your bottom lip in and tipped your head back so you had a clear view of his handsome features. He tilted his head down so you could see him clearly, pink lips parting but no words left him. You lifted the material to his cheek, free hand cupping the other side of his face. Running the soft sheet along the dirty skin, you watched the dirt smear and smudge, mixing with the blood before it all eventually wiped away. The blood wasn’t his. It was from animals and enemies that they’d come across in the last few days.

Fitzgerald placed his fingers on your hips, brushing his hand up and around to your lower back. Your eyes grew heavy because of his touch, but you didn’t verbally say anything, you merely continued with what you were doing. The man almost smirked at the affect he had over you, practically quivering because he’d just touched you. “What’s the point in cleaning me up, gonna be a mess in a few more days?” He pointed out, fingertips pushing into your back in order to drag you in closer. You let out a little gasp of surprise, glistening eyes falling momentarily to his lips as he spoke.

“It’s hygienic, for one.” You offered. “And maybe it’ll teach you to take a bath in the river every once in a while.” The wind whipped around the pair of you harshly, sending strands of your hair flying this way and that. You smoothed them down and lowered the rag away from his face when it was all clean. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now I can see your handsome face.”

The man scoffed. He was far from handsome, but he appreciated the compliment. “That so?”

You nodded. “And your mouth wont taste like dirt.”

“I never taste dirt.” He assured you.

“I was talking about me.” You bit your bottom lip. The pink flesh paled beneath the secure clasp your teeth had on it. Fitzgerald straightened, hand gliding from your hip south to trace your rear. You slapped his arm with a giggle of disbelief. Leave it to the man to ruin the moment when you were telling him — as discreetly obvious as you could — that you wanted a kiss. It was quiet then, as he stared down at you with amusement in his eyes.

“Oh, sorry, I must’ve misread that situation.” He lied before placing his free hand on the back of your neck. Twisting your body around before you had a chance to say anything about it, he pressed you flat against the wooden boards and leaned in to close the space you clearly didn’t crave at the moment. Your hands lifted to his cold, clean, damp cheeks. Cradling them, you let a soft whimper of approval fall from your lips to fill his mouth. This affection was rare. It was a habit of yours to keep your distance when others were around. It didn’t seem fair, to love on the man when the others missed their loved one’s. Fitzgerald, on the other hand, he didn’t give a shit who was watching. He also didn’t really care that the two of you never spoke about what the occasional sex and kisses meant. He tried not to think too into it. Course, he would think about you and the relationship you shared with him long after you’d gone to sleep, but he’d never bring it up to you. What was the point in labeling it? There was nobody else around you were interested in. He couldn’t take you on romantic dates or shower you with any other type of affection. You couldn’t have a house together — a kid. The future together was this. It was simple, it was...

“John.” You moaned out against his lips. He was kissing you feverishly. It was something you were very, very use to. His facial hair was rough against your delicate flesh, a contrast you craved. You could feel the consequence of his arousal, so you looked south. “Maybe we should...” You grimaced apologetically. You couldn’t have sex with him now. That was for late at night, when the rest of the men were fast asleep, peacefully residing, oblivious to the world around them. It wouldn’t take long for his erection to go away. With the cold air and the frustration of being halted, you were positive it would take a few minutes.

“Oi!” Anderson shouted. “Up there!” His warning was heard by all, but not in time. The surrounding Arikara, perched on the cliffs high above the boat that drifted down the river, had the upper hand. And they took advantage of that. The arrows that soared through the air were almost impossible to dodge. Glass, Henry, Hawk, and Bridger fired their weapons blindly. Bullets flew past arrows to hit the attackers on the hills.

Fitzgerald pulled back. His eyes seemed to darken, hand moving to the strap looped around his neck to drag it off of him and aim his rifle. It was loaded, ready for use. “Inside!” He told you firmly. His hand curled around your elbow, dragging you off the wall and toward the door. He nudged you in the direction of safety, gun lifted and pointed toward the trees in the distance. “Them son of a bitches are hiding!” He growled. His words were more for himself than the rest of the men. He twisted around to move to the front of the boat, coat whipping harshly behind him. He didn’t make it halfway before a heart-wrenching cry split the peaceful air. Your scream mixed with the crashing waves, sent every man’s head twisting in your direction. You weren’t a target. The men were the targets. But one clumsy shot from one of the Arikara was all it took. An arrow was stuck through your arm, piercing one side of your muscle and completely forced through the other side. The hot tears that filled your eyes were impossible to blink away for the pain that flooded you was angry and red. You fell back against the wall and clutched the space beneath the wound. Your fingers resided around your elbow, the shot being just above that. Fitzgerald saw what you felt — the world around him was red. He was blinded by rage. Curling his fingers around his rifle tighter, it was as if he had some sort of blessed vision. He caught sight of the bastard that had shot you, reloading his bow with another arrow and without any hesitation, he fired a shot in the Arikara’s direction. There was no surprise at all when the bullet hit the boy in the face, giving him no choice but to collapse. Fitzgerald watched as his body fell forward and rolled off the tall cliff. Throwing his rifle to the floor of the boat, he heaved a heavy breath before moving to your aid. He sounded like a bull, heavily huffing and puffing as he tried to exhale all the rage he felt in his body. Throwing the door open, he gripped your waist and drew you into him.

“Easy- easy.” Your voice cracked. He was being tender with you, as careful as possible, but you still felt the need to plead with him. Whimpering under your breath as he guided you out of the Arikara’s eye, he sat you down on one of the beds before crouching down in front of you. Blood oozed from the wound, leaving a trail from the arrow down to your wrist, before it dropped to form a puddle on the ground beside John’s boot.

“This ain’t gonna feel too good.” He told you, hand lifting to squeeze your forearm. Rotating it so he could see how far through the arrow went, he clenched his jaw before standing. The thumping of his boots told the men guarding the boat that Fitzgerald was seeing to your wound. He lugged the cabinets open and pulled out the toolbox they kept and then the first aid. Carrying both boxes over to the bed; he set them down, one beside the other before he laid his hand against your chin, palm grazing your soft skin as his fingertips grazed your cheeks. “Lay down.” He instructed. You weren’t going to be stubborn now. Doing as he said, you laid back on the mattress, knees bent and hanging off the bed. Fitzgerald was knelt between them, hot breaths hitting your thigh as he popped open one of the boxes and rummaged through for something to cut the arrow with. The tears in your eyes fell free as you laid on your back and stared at the underside of the top bunk bed. Your eyes dropped shut, an attempt to hide your pain. Firtzgerald didn’t blame you for crying, if anything he admired it. There was nothing wrong with showing how you felt. He didn’t expect you to bottle yourself up or act too tough. You had a fucking arrow in your arm.

Firtzgerald cut one side of the arrow, the shorter side, so he wouldn’t have to pull too much out of you. A wince left your lips from the movement of the weapon. “Count down.” You begged softly. “Please, count down.” Your breaths were ragged and loud, chest shaking with every inhale and exhale. He knew that wouldn’t help, it would only make you increasingly nervous.

“Okay.” He murmured. His hand curled around the wooden stick, clutching it securely, and his free hand pressed against your arm, holding it in place so when he jerked on the arrow it would slide out without bringing your arm along too. You bit your cheek roughly as he began to count. “Three.” Your legs began to shake. “Two.” He’d barely finished the word. With no warning whatsoever and without finishing the countdown, the man pulled the arrow out of your arm. He slung the thing to the floor before grabbing a rag and pressing it against the hole in your arm.

A yowl, followed by a string of curses left your lips. “Fuck..” The word was broken and drawn out. Your foot hit the floor roughly, stomping against it as you laid on the bed. You wanted to grab your arm and squeeze the hell out of it until the pain was gone and the limb was numb, but John was tending to it. You also wanted to slap the man for not following through and counting down for you, but in a way, you supposed it had helped. You weren’t able to obsess over the expected pain. John covered the hole with a bandage, wrapping it tightly. There were other people on the boat, capable of stitching the wound up. He wouldn’t try, he didn’t want to hurt you further. The least he could do was prevent you from bleeding to death though. You sat up when he backed away in the slightest. Looking down at your arm, you sniffled pathetically. It hurt. It hurt like a bitch, but you’d been through worse things on this journey.

Three months ago

The feeling of drowning was itchy. You’d never felt so desperate and helpless in all your life. Water flooded your lungs, entering your mouth and nose as you screamed and fought against the Frenchmen. Thrashing beneath the water was the last thing you should’ve been doing, but you tried to fight him off. Tried to bury your fingernails in his wet skin, tried to fight your way to the surface for just a quick breath of air. Crying underwater made you feel hot, as your tears mixed with the river’s waves. You weren’t ready to die yet.

Fitzgerald wasn’t your’s then, he was just the bloke you were attracted to. Fond of. And as if you needed another reason to like him, he saved you that day. When every other man was oblivious to your turmoil and fate, when every other man was running toward the boat for safety, gathering pelts and thinking only of themselves, John was sprinting through the water, thick, soaked pants weighing him down — slowing him, but he fought as hard as he could against the river to get to you. And he’d made it. He stabbed the man in the spine before grabbing the collar of his jacket and shoving him beneath the water. It was his turn to thrash. To cry. To beg and fight for his life. You broke to the surface with an audible cry, a sound that made John push the man further under the water and bury his knife into his back one more time. The sudden shock of another stab was enough to make the man suck in a deep breath — only all he got was water and it filled his lungs in seconds. Blood and water mixed, and the man had no one there to risk their life saving him as John had done for you. You’d thrown yourself into his arms, clutching on to him tightly. He’d held you for what seemed like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been — the pair of you still needed to get to the boat. His hand wrapped around your own, pulling you through the river’s strong current so he could lift you up and into the boat. The pelts he’d been carrying had been discarded when he saw that you were in trouble and that right there told him you were more important to him than the entirety of this journey. You grasped his hand and helped him up and into the boat and the second he heaved a sigh of relief and went to catch his breath, you curled your arms around his broad shoulders and pulled his pink lips to your own — taking the air away as soon as he’d caught it. It was the first time you’d kissed him and you’d grown addicted right then. He let out a husky hum of approval and wound his arms around your waist. His lips were soft, his beard was scratchy, and his tongue was inviting — addicting. The surrounding men had really thought that the two of you were about to screw from how passionate the kiss was growing to be in a short span of time. It was your way of thanking him, but your intense attraction for him might’ve played in your choice of thanks as well.

Looking toward the man who was eyeing you with worry, you slid off of the bed and directly into his lap. John placed his hand, bloody from tending to your wound, in your hair. Holding you close to him, securely and protectively, he kissed your forehead and shut his eyes. It was silent which meant nobody was shooting anymore. The Arikara were gone, dead, or too far to attack. It didn’t matter which one was the right answer, for the time being, everyone was okay.

“We’ll be at the settlement soon.” John whispered softly, an attempt to comfort you.” He figured it would be a weight lifted from your mind — to know that you’d be in a place that didn’t get attacked. A guarded, gated home. And you didn’t have to leave it if you never wanted to again.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t see that happening. You wanted to be wherever he was.

———

Three days later

The room was warm and crowded. An orange hue was casted over the length of the room from the lit flames that danced in the candles hanging from the ceiling. Fitzgerald was sat at a table with the rest of the men, knees spread wide and hands folded on top. He looked grumpy, glaring at the rest of the men. He always looked that way though, harsh and unapproachable.

You made your way into the room. It stunk of liquor. The tables were sticky, the men were rowdy, and the room was loud with drunk chatter and deafening music.

Your hand pressed against Fitzgerald’s back, brushing along the length of it as you came to a stop behind him. Their were men sitting on either side of him, across from him, and every other spot. You slipped your arm around his neck, hunching over so your chest pressed against his back. It was no secret the two of you were involved so you gave in to the rare display of affection. The bandage around your arm was clean, recently changed and although the wound was still sore, it didn’t bother you all that much. John looked over his shoulder at you, breaths heavy and hot. He’d been drinking, you could tell right away.

“Hello, beautiful.” Your lips twitched upwards at the compliment. “D’you wanna sit down?” His hand fell to his thigh, patting it to usher you forward. Usually you’d say no, in order to avoid any altercations. It just took one rowdy, drunk bloke to accidentally say something about you and Fitzgerald was liable to kill them. Officially together or not, he didn’t want any other man laying a hand on you — or directing their stares or words at you. Smoothing down your dress, you lifted your leg and stepped over the bench. Your hand pressed against Anderson’s, John’s best mate, shoulder to steady yourself before your body lowered down on top of John’s. Your back pressed against his chest, small body wiggling on top of the man’s. “Easy, little one, quit that squirming.” He pressed his lips against your ear and laid his strong hand on your thigh to cease your movements. You wore a playful smirk as you moved your hands to the cards laid in the center of the table. Playing as if your moving around was unintentional, you did everything you could to apply pressure to his crotch now and then, excitedly standing and then dropping back down on him — or happily bouncing when you’d draw a card you wanted. Fitzgerald shut his eyes and searched for his patience.

He grumbled huskily, an incoherent utterance of words. Placing his hands on your hips, he yanked you back down and on to his lap. His fingers moved along your thighs, caressing the thick fabric of your dress. This, being at the settlement, was the only time you could ever wear the pretty attire so you took advantage of it. And he was grateful. Rolling the bottom of your dress up, just enough to where he could get his hand beneath it, he let his thick fingers brush along your thighs as they made their way north. Your eyes widened, knees instantly pressing together to trap and halt his hand.

“John..” You warned.

“Y/n.” He used the same tone before pushing his hips into your own so you could feel the erection you’d caused. “You have to stop doing this to me.” Tease, tease, tease, it was all you ever did. It was his turn. His fingers skimmed the front of your underwear, ready to pry them to the side and sink his digits into your warm entrance, but you stood with flushed cheeks, hands moving to your thighs to push your dress down and effectively rid of his hands.

“I,” Your voice shook. “am suddenly feeling very under the weather.” You whispered. “Think I’m gonna go, uh, lay down.” Ushering over your shoulder toward the exit, you looked down at the man who’d just been trying to turn your on. Climbing out of his lap, you ruffled your hair and headed for the exit.

Anderson lifted a brow. “You just got here!” He called toward you before looking toward Fitzgerald when he began to rise.

Fitzgerald lifted his cup before finishing off the beverage. “That’s my cue to go with her.” Slamming the mug down on the table, he lifted himself up completely and slid off of the bench to follow directly after you.

Anderson rolled his eyes. “Fuck me.” He looked back to the surrounding men. “Well, gents, looks like I’m not going to bed for a while.”

Your bedroom was silent as you laid down on the mattress, waiting for the man to join you. The pair of you had a little bit of a more private space than the rest of the men, but Anderson was the closest to the bed, so he would make himself as busy as possible for the night, and you intended on taking advantage of that. The door creaked open and Fitzgerald came in, hands already lifting to pry off his coat. “Well,” His eyes, dark with lust, moved to you, scanning the length of your body. “are you finally gonna let me have my way?” His tone was serious, but you saw the amusement in his gaze.

“I suppose.” You told him breathily. Rolling your dress up to your hips, you parted your thighs and sent him a lazy smile. “But you’re not undressing me.. anyone could come in.”

Fitzgerald nodded once, eyes falling to the space between your spread legs. Tossing his coat on to the rack in the corner, he slipped out of his boots and made his way toward the mattress. You watched intently as he rid of the two shirts he always wore. The fabrics were stained from him always wearing them. The cloths thudded dully when they came into contact with the floor, but your eyes didn’t dare stray away from the bare chest in front of you. Swallowing thickly, you bit your bottom lip. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on the big bear, and since he was taking forever to get to the bed, you pushed yourself up on to all fours and crawled to the edge of the mattress. Laying your hands on his thick shoulders, you dragged the big bloke down and on top of you, submissively slumping beneath him.

If this was how every night could go, you’d be eternally grateful. Unfortunately it was a rarity to be at the settlement. Most nights were cold, spent outside in the snow, sleeping huddled up against a tree. Sex was the last thing on your mind then — when you were freezing and afraid of being attacked by any other group of nearby people. John had made it clear that you didn’t have to come on any other excursions, but he knew you were stubborn and you weren’t going to let him go without you.

That’s what couples did though, right? They didn’t want to be apart. Maybe the pair of you were worthy of having a label. But you didn’t find it necessary to talk about. It was alright to come to terms with it just for yourself. You knew he was yours and you were his.

What else was to say, you were unofficially official.

———————————————————————

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @pansexualginger @heyitscam99 @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @favouritereadings @badmaax @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @bignastyfan-nz @hot-and-spiceyyy @azayamari @shane-isa-shame @baliadelcuore @lonewolf471 @crldrr @keeleyella @lovebitesimagines @eddieisasnack @overitall2018 @axxl-rose @slytherintothedeep @lucreziaborgiatheunholyfamily @demoncrypt1066 @captainbuckyboobear @phire23 @orphiceseum

#john fitzgerald x reader #john fitzgerald imagine #john fitzgerald #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine

[thetorturerwrites]

Puer Deus: Hurricane

This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @faestae-writes​. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

***

Captured

Summary:  In suffering, there is beauty.

A/N:  PLEASE READ THESE.  18+ only.  Physical violence; sadism; references to abuse; reference to sexual assault; dub-con/non-con

Word Count: 3000+

Day Two

Tucked up into a ball in the farthest-most corner of your cot, you stared at the thick cell door.  It had only opened twice since Ren exited through it yesterday, and that was only for food.  

Nothing had changed.  Still captured, still manacled, still with no information to offer.

You had spent the night alternating between bursts of panic that he would return and arbitrary fits of sleep. The exhaustion was pervasive, and your limbs were leaden. Your brain was slow and foggy, and your mouth was chapped, cracked, and unbearably dry. 

You hadn’t eaten; and after a while, the food was reclaimed.  You understood. There was no sense in waste. You had gone to the basin a few times to drink water, but no amount of it washed the taste of him from your mouth, and you gave up trying. 

Part of you didn’t want to let go of that taste, the reminder that you’d been alive yesterday, electric under the whim of a tyrant. You were caught in this frustrating double helix of relief and disappointment that he did not come.  You willed your warring insides to just fucking pick one.

The emptiness in your stomach rumbled, and you tightened your hold on it, squeezing both arms tighter. You hadn’t consciously decided to hunger strike, but the idea of eating something he would likely make you vomit onto the floor was less than appealing. Laying your head against the wall, you closed your eyes and yielded to the white noise. The thrum of fans, maybe engines, lulled you into dozing.

When you woke, you searched for him in the room, but you were still alone. Reaching up, you pressed your palms, dotted with crescent-shaped bruises from your fingernails, into your eyes. How were you going to get out of here? You wracked your brain over that last arms deal, trying to recall any detail, any nuance, that you could use to your advantage.

Yesterday, you’d accepted that this would be your life, that nothing you could tell him would grant you freedom.  After your brain rested, miraculously not concussed that you could tell, you weren’t so willing to surrender. This could not be your life, this one cell with its bare cot, freezing commode, and perpetually cold water in the basin.  Rising, you paced off the quarters’ circumference, counting the steps, willing your addled cerebellum to work faster, better.

Santcha had done most of the talking, and you’d done everything else.  Your lip curled in a sneer at the thought of that worthless bastard. You recalled that you’d watched as he talked with the defector and the woman, only half paying attention because you didn’t care about the Resistance.  You only cared that they paid.

Stopping after the fifth circuit, you dropped your forehead into the wall with a thunk and pounded your fist on it in frustration.  You couldn’t remember what they had said about where they were going. That was it. The fucking First Order burst in after that and sent them all scattering.

The whir of the door was your only warning; and in the half second that followed, you were driven further into the wall.  The manacle chain was trapped beneath your breasts, and it nipped your skin, catching on the fabric. Your breathing kicked up, your thighs clenched, and you flexed your fingers against the wall, palms beginning to leave sweaty hand prints there. 

He was here.

But then there was nothing, and you balked under the weighty silence.  Had the door closed? Had he stepped in? Could he feel the conflict within you? Was this your death sentence? Your mind pitched with all of the questions and possibilities.

Say something. Do something.

And then, the grenade that was Kylo Ren exploded.

He stomped on the basin in the corner with a snarl, nearly wrenching it from the wall, and you winced recalling how that was you yesterday under the weight of his boot.  From the corner of your eye, you saw he lifted the paltry cot and threw it across the room. He wailed, but you couldn’t tell if it was anger or anguish. The helmet’s modulator strained to keep up with the boom of his voice and threw it in halting, choppy digital fits. 

You blanched at the swoosh of his ignited lightsaber, and you broke into a full-body cold sweat, holding your breath. But the weapon’s hellfire didn’t come for you this time, and you could only listen as he turned it upon the room.  You heard the sizzle as the saber plunged into the wall, the smell of warping steel and melting plastic overpowering. The hum of it as he spun captivated you, It, too, sounded alive under his thumb. Did the fabled weapon crave it as you did?

Ren shredded through what you thought to be the cot and kicked apart its pieces. He gouged at the walls until you could see the ends of long black scars marring the otherwise bleary room. Black smoke rose in curling tendrils up towards the ceiling, and you chased it with your eye, wondering what path it took to escape that was closed off to you.

You had pictured him like this, a feral, stalking predator, hungry for something only found in the hunt. Throughout the night, you envisioned his long limbs and strong frame plowing through everything, everyone, in his path. Now, your eyelids danced with the idea, the absolute power of him, and the strand of you yearning for him lengthened just a bit more.

Sparks rained down on you when the offended red fire met the ceiling, power lines hung like angry serpents, and grates clattered down only to be kicked away. You felt certain the next burst of electricity would ignite you, and you licked your lips, feeling suddenly magnetized.

Drawn to him.

Whatever wreckage was to come, he made you feel alive in this moment.

Your forehead warmed the wall where you were pressed, a lone rivulet of sweat dripping down the very center.  You were flushed all over now and grateful for the Force. It anchored you and kept you from facing the terrible cyclone raging behind you, regardless of how you wished you could witness it. It kept your face, your eyes, from betraying your mind under his scrutiny. 

Each of Ren’s vengeful howls and grunts was flanked by erratic breathing.  The room smelled terribly of industrial carnage, and your chest tightened, inhaling the charred air. You wondered if he could smell it, too. 

His helmet hit the wall to your left, a spiderweb breaking into the paint from how hard he’d thrown it, and your lungs seized. Would he show you his face? You had also spent the night wondering how a man like this could look. Was he a man? Or was he truly a monster, part of him decimated the way he sought to equally pulverize the universe as his legacy?

The lightsaber’s constant static thrum cut off, ending your debate. You let loose the breath you had been holding, finally registering your chest tighten painfully in need.  He had more regard for his lightsaber than his helmet, you thought, as he dropped it less angrily onto the floor.

Another moment of silence passed, and you shuddered, awed at how easily he rendered you incapable by doing absolutely nothing.

The eye of the storm had turned onto you.

You were not prepared. 

His gloved fist connected with the wall just to the right of your head, leaving a large indentation, and you flinched. The velocity of his punch was not lost upon you; but, a second later, you forgot about the show of brute strength when that glove was yanking your head back.  He stuffed its counterpart into your mouth so far you nearly inhaled it and choked. 

He threw your head forward carelessly. Your jaw worked, still aching from yesterday’s vicious exercise, trying to maneuver the leather to a more comfortable position and to ease your tongue into a less awkward twist.

Had he seen the relief wash over you as he muzzled you?

That relief was quickly cut off as the Force manipulated you, Ren moving your body to his will.  You grimaced as your forehead met that slick spot it had created on the wall again. Your feet were forced further apart, your stance widened.  You trembled, recalling Santcha, recalling your Master. This could only be one thing.

The shuck of his belt as it was pulled from his pants sent you into a frenzy. Whatever hunger you had for him perished, replaced by horror, devastated by your utter impotence to do anything but be his object.

You lunged forward and threw yourself back, but the Force held you. You jerked your head to the left and right only to have your forehead pushed even harder against the wall.  He pinned you there like an insect.

And then, your manacled hands were forced up over your head, your body drawn into a long line, a target.

You were crying before it had even begun. You’d thought he meant to fuck you, but that thought died when he didn’t step closer. The longer he took to close that distance, the more certain you were you’d been wrong.  But were you relieved?

The silence of him frightened you more than his outbursts ever could, and this dead air was worse than any previous.  Your very thoughts were frozen.  

You knew, without doubt, violence was coming for you, and there would be no quarter.

At the first ferocious bite of his belt, you forgot to breathe. You couldn’t exhale, and your chest spasmed. He had struck you with no hesitation, no buildup, using the wide strap as an extension of his massive arm, his viciousness.

There was no time to be shocked because the second blow landed, then the third. You strained against the bondage, trying to twist away.  You concentrated everything you had into breaking that Force bond, willing yourself to be stronger than you actually were, but it held you, and you felt only that you would tear your muscles if you kept fighting.  

Angry ridges raised to life on your back, pulsing with the rush of your blood, your body trying in vain to keep up with the assault.  Your heartbeat stuttered, anxiety coursing through you with no outlet, your only option to move your fingers and toes in an attempt to process the pain.

It was futile.

The strap came blistering down against your ribs, and your body suit tore under the abuse, not meant to withstand such a buffeting.  Small holes burst in the wake of the heavy leather, and you keened for it, your safety, your cover. Once it was gone, you would be of even less value than you were now.

Sweat dripped down your face, stinging your eyes, corrupting the taste of the leather. You could smell it blending with your fear.  You were boiling and shivering at the same time, your body unable to decide which pain response was appropriate and struggling to do both.

Strike Strike Strike

Your universe narrowed to his belt and the pain it wrought.  But there was nothing of him, no breathing, no cursing, no growling.  He obscured even himself in this rage, and you felt untethered from this world.

You heaved and panted, arching and contracting as much as he would allow, a snake shedding skin as more of you peeked through the torn fabric. This new, uncovered layer was pink, red, and purple.  It was angry, lamenting, and it bore bow-shaped blemishes marking the path of the hurricane. 

When the belt fell again at your backside, blood vessels burst, dotting the area with a constellation of plum-colored stars.  At the small of your back, hot sweat pooled, the slick of it turning the strike that fell there to a swath of stinging needles.

Ren was relentless in his hysteria.  He beat you from calves to shoulders.  Every terrible punch of his belt was solid, never diminishing, and they came so fast you lost count of how many you’d taken. 

Crack Crack Crack

The endorphins reached their peak, and you drew in a faltering breath. Trembling fingers stretched upwards even as your body slackened. Bleary eyes fell shut and you stilled, silence blanketing your mind.

You let yourself fly, welcoming the darkness. It whispered to you, and you reached for that comfort.

In suffering, there is beauty.

You swam in dopamine, epinephrine.  Fear arguing with lust. Hazily, your brain offered up that he was again angered by your attempt to go where he could not follow because he roared, the first you’d heard of his voice without the helmet. 

Suddenly, the leather litany ceased, but you knew better than to believe you had yet suffered enough.

Something had changed.

You squeezed your eyes hard and tight as he snarled angry words you couldn’t piece together. Bearing down on the glove, you thought you certainly could taste it, the last of his inhibition burning away.  

He was wallowing in sadism now, giving himself over to the headiness of its power.

The next collision came with the hard metal buckle walloping into your skin instead of the leather, and it slammed you forward. His hold on the Force was unsteady as he poured all of his anger into you and let himself lose control.

You choked and nearly coughed up the glove. You saw white spots behind your closed eyes and desperately tried to cling to clarity, consciousness. You had no idea what he would do to you if you passed out now, and you didn’t want to find out.

In this new barrage, you counted five buckled shots, and you thought he had to have pulled them up from the very tips of his toes, each cresting harsher than the last. They cracked out into the room like lightning, and the thunder of them shook you to your bones. 

The adrenaline flight carrying you crashed, and you sagged against your invisible bond. Moist lashes moved sluggishly, eyes shining but unfocused. Your body was giving up, moving beyond acceptance and into defeat. 

Your gray matter could offer up nothing save that single repeated idea, one long ago adopted and cherished. It was your hymn, your supplication to the unknowable that helped you bear the weight of your past. And now, your present.

In suffering, there is beauty.

You hung, suspended between this reality and the next, your only company the hammering of your heartbeat.  It sounded to you that all the world was silent, except for your breathing and his. 

Kylo Ren had gagged the universe with his furor.

One last strike fell with the might of a bomb. He must have thrown the entire weight of his towering body into it because it exploded against you with such force that the buckle broke off and clattered across the floor. 

All of the air was forced from your lungs on a furious scream, but no sound traveled.  Your back bowed so fiercely your hip bones smashed into the wall, toes turning white with the strain.  You hiccuped and wretched, unable to bend forward even an inch so you could vomit the leather onto the floor.

Destroyed, you swayed piteously, head dropped forward, body limp and wracked with silent sobs, and finally allowed some respite. 

Your back was throbbing from the base of your neck to your ankles. You were one long exposed nerve, a constant stabbing from over stimulation. It reached up to even invade your brain, and you could manage no thought, nothing greater than existing from second to second.  Even your mantra was stolen from you.

The welts and blossoming contusions painted an impressive span on your body.  He hadn’t let loose his anger just on your back. It had slithered all around you to mark the sides of your arms, legs, hips.  Your catsuit was gashed apart, hanging in disheveled ribbons at your back.

There were ball-sized hematomas rising where the belt buckle had struck. 

Each inhalation, each heartbeat, was an exercise in endurance, the strength of your will.  Because every movement, no matter how small, set off another aftershock of pain, rippling fire down the length of your spine.  It was all you had left, this resolution to breathe.

Your first thought as you came back to yourself was that this was victory. You were present.  You had not been lost to unconsciousness.

You had survived him.

When he finally stepped away from you, his breathing ragged, you prayed that he was sated, his anger having run its course, but you did not hold your breath in hope. You did not try to move.  You had learned the lesson yesterday. 

You did what objects do – wait to be used again.

What did your Child God think of you in this moment, you wondered. 

Function returning, you listened as he moved around the room collecting his helmet, saber, and belt. He even pocketed the broken belt buckle. Not wanting to see him, you pressed your eyes shut tight. When you lost consciousness after he was gone, you would not likely remember having seen him, and you wanted that memory, not a blurry half-truth you couldn’t trust.

At his departure, the weight of the Force finally lifted, but your body could not hold you. You crashed down onto the floor in a bruised and bloody pile, thankful that he had not turned his attention underfoot and taken the last solid surface upon which you could lie.

You used the only bit of strength you had to pull the glove from your mouth before you actually did swallow it to shake loose this painful plane of existence.  Closing your eyes, you exhaled an unsteady breath, and succumbed to darkness.

In suffering, there is beauty.

#kylo ren smut #kylo #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x you #sadist kylo #adam driver #adam driver fanfiction #Puer deus

[ravenloveless13]

Pack Ties (Pack Ties Series)

"Pack Ties?" Remus asked, putting the kettle in his hand to turn and look at Lily.

“Yes, apparently it is a magical contract” Lily replied back as she carefully reads the large book that rested on the kitchen table while with her other hand, she was thoughtfully stroking her swollen belly “a werewolf creates this magical bond with the members of their family, that way when the full moon comes and he loses control, they would be the only ones he could not hurt”

Remus took the two cups of tea; Lily's, with milk and sugar, and his only with sugar. He brought them to the table to sit across from his friend. That was his day to "take care" of Lily because since she had become pregnant, James had become paranoid about her safety and although all the marauders knew that the redhead was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, no one in their right mind would attempt Lily's wrath in this state. They had agreed that for Jame’s and their peace of mind (because James could become a real pain in the ass when he gets worried about Lily and the baby safety) one of the marauders would stay with his wife if he had to go out on an Order mission. On that day it was Remus's turn and although he loved spending time with his friend, he was a bit nervous about it since the night of the full moon is near.

"I've never heard of that," he said once he took a seat across from Lily and handed her her cup of tea.

“Well ... apparently it is an extremely ancient ritual, but it is not entirely proven. This contract does not guarantee that the werewolf will preserve their human mind during the transformation as the Wolfsbane potion does, but it does guarantee that the wolf does not attack their family. It says that the contract links the magic of the wolf and the other person, making it feel like they're part of their pack.

"Hmmm makes sense..." Remus muttered as he leaned back into the chair and stared at his reflection in the cup of tea in front of him.

During several of his missions from the Order, Remus had encountered several wizards with the same curse as him and had observed that no matter what, they never hurt each other on the full moon.

"We should try," Lily said smiling as she closed the book.

“Hey?”

“We should try it, maybe that will help you not to have so much pressure during a full moon. We could all join you, that way you could finally spend the nights here with us instead of in the woods”

“Lily I don't think that's a good idea, it's too dangerous”

“So are all those missions that Dumbledore makes you do and you do not protest about it.” “Those are different…”

“How is that different ...? Remy, whether you like it or not, you are part of this family, we’re your pack. James, Sirius, Peter, and I care a lot about you, especially when you have to spend the full moon all alone. And now with this war that breathes us, the ingredients for your potion will become scarce and those idiots will find it difficult to accompany you. Also when Harry is born I will not allow you to get away from us. Let us try this, please. Look, the ceremony must be done under the new moon which will be super safe. James and the others can get the ingredients that we need and I'll make the potion, so you don't have to worry about a thing…Hmmm, I wonder if by drinking it now Harry will be bonded or if we will have to do it all over again when he's older? Well, it doesn't matter.”

Remus let his friend keep talking to herself while she planned and organized everything. He just couldn't say no to her and understood that Lily wanted to help him. After all, ever since she joined them and discovered that the boys had turned into Animagi to help him, she had not only kept the secret but was responsible for making and giving him his Wolfsbane potion whenever she could. Remus's mind wandered off a bit at the thought of not being dangerous to his friends. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but he couldn't deny the fact that if the potion could work, then it would take a huge weight off his shoulders. Knowing that no matter what, he wouldn't hurt James, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and soon Harry, allowing him to breathe calmly.

"So Remy, what do you say… shall we give it a try?" Lily smiled excitedly with bright eyes. It had been so long since Remus had seen her so excited about something that he just chuckled before sighing.

“Even if I tell you no because it is dangerous and maybe it won't work, I know you will ignore me and move on or worse, you will make our idiots bother me until I give in, so why deny me if in the long run you always get away with what you want?” Remus smiled and Lily approached him to hug him or so she tried because she ended up smashing her belly in his face where Remus felt the baby kick him.

"Wooo I think even Harry agrees," she agreed.

♡/~/~/~/~/~♡/~/~/~/~/~/♡~/~/~/~/~/♡

Summer 1985

Uncle Vernon's car pulled up outside the forest that looked dark and scary. The huge man got out of his car still mumbling under his mustache and yanked the back door open before pulling the little boy out of the car.

Harry let himself be dragged by the arm, too scared to say anything. He knew he had done something wrong, although he still did not understand what it had been. All he had done was ate a cookie that had flown into his hand when Aunt Petunia's friends were in the living room drinking tea. Harry had quickly learned that he could have a few extra snacks if he waited for Aunt Petunia's friends to come over for their weekly tea party because being surrounded by other people, his Aunt Petunia couldn't yell at him and wouldn't tell Uncle Vernon because she didn’t want to have to suspense her tea parties. Harry was quite small for his age, but his teacher always said that what Harry lacked in height, he made up for in cunning. And although Harry did not understand the meaning of that word, in his head that must be a good thing because his teacher always said it with a cute smile in her face instead of the typical grimace of disgust that his uncle made him every time they called him an ungrateful freak, two other words that Harry still didn't understand but made him feel bad inside.

Uncle Vernon released Harry causing the little boy to stagger a bit since they were already deep in the forest and if it weren't for the full moon, everything would be pitch black.

"Where are we, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked, rubbing his arm where his uncle had gripped him so tightly.

"Don't ask questions boy!" The man yelled which caused Harry to turn away in fear, he didn't like it when his uncle yelled at him, that only meant that he was going to get hit or have a long time out in his cupboard, and Harry didn't like either one or the other.

“You are going to stay here freak so that you learn that you should be grateful for the ceiling over your head and keep all your freakiness under control!!”

“bu..but ... it's scary here” Harry is scared but not as scared when he sees his uncle's face turn red in the moonlight.

“But? Did you say but?!” Vernon growled before raising his hand to slap the little boy so hard that made his glasses fall off. “UNGRATEFUL FREAK!!! EVERYTHING WE'VE DONE FOR YOU AND THAT'S HOW YOU ANSWER ME!!! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FREAK FACE AGAIN!!” He yelled before turning and leaving Harry there alone sobbing as he tries to find his glasses.

When Harry put his glasses back on, he realized that he really had been left alone in the terrifying forest. Still sobbing from the blow, Harry winced when he heard a howl in the distance. He remembered that once his teacher had read them a book about animals like wolves, foxes, and owls that usually lived in the woods. Harry's favorite had undoubtedly been the wolf, but the teacher had assured them that these were the most dangerous out there and that they should never approach one or it could eat them.

Trying to ignore the pain from his face due to the slap and his little arm, Harry wiped his nose on his shirt and started walking, unsure of where to go. Maybe if he was lucky, he would find a candy cottage like the one in the story they had started reading at school. They had not finished the story yet because the teacher stopped when Aunt Petunia completed that the teacher was fully their minds with nonsense. Harry remember that his teacher stop the story when the kind old woman let the siblings stay to eat and sleep at her house. Hopefully, Harry might be as lucky as them.

The little boy walked for a long time until he felt Dudley's old shoes hurt him, so he opted to curl up next to a tree to get some rest. He felt really tired because, after the cookie incident, Aunt Petunia made her friends leave and forced Harry to clean up the backyard, which was not strange, however, what was strange for him was that his uncle came later with his face exceptionally red and forced him to get into the car. Harry didn't like the car very much because he would always feel sick or slide down from the seat when his uncle made a hard turn, which he had done all that afternoon by not knowing where to go. When night fell, the journey slowed down, Harry thought they were heading home. The truth was he didn't understand why his uncle had taken him on such a strange ride when it was clearly noticeable, from the rudeness that he kept mumbling, that he was very angry with Harry. But now lost in that dark forest, Harry understood that this had not been a fun ride because he doubted his uncle would come back for him.

The howls were heard again closer now and Harry snuggled up in fear. A wolf was nearby and he sounded angry, very angry. Suddenly, in the moonlight, a huge wolf appeared in front of Harry. It had a stunning brown fur that Harry would have liked to be able to pet if it hadn't been showing its teeth as it growled.

Harry froze and for some strange reason in his mind, he was grateful that he didn't feel like going to pee as he wouldn't have liked being eaten by a wolf with his pants wet. The wolf's footsteps were silent as he approached Harry, still growling as his nose moved frantically in his direction. Harry noticed that the wolf's eyes were a beautiful amber color that did not leave his face. When Harry felt the hot breath of the wolf breathe on him, the little boy closed his eyes and tried not to cry in fear but the tears were already running down his face.

Suddenly and without any explanation, a large and wet tongue licked Harry's face, causing the little boy to giggle when the wolf licked him again, this time down to the base of his hair which remained half stopped by saliva.

"No Mr. Wolf, don't do that," Harry laughed as the wolf continued to lick his face, however when it licked his cheek where his uncle had hit him, Harry let out a groan of pain.

The Wolf pulled away and growled as Harry was startled again for a moment as he thought he had made him angry. The Wolf began to walk in circles, growling even louder before letting out a furious howl. The boy did not move but something inside him told him that although the Wolf seemed angry, he was not angry with him.

After a while of walking in circles, the Wolf approached Harry again, staring at him. The emerald green eyes were lost for a moment in the amber gaze until a growl came out of the boy's stomach which made him look away in embarrassment. With all the fright of being lost in the woods, Harry had completely forgotten how hungry he was, after all the last thing he had eaten had been a cookie.

The Wolf who had sat across from Harry stared at him until he seemed to make up his mind. Then, with great care, the Wolf moved closer to Harry and crouched low enough for the little one to climb onto his back.

"Can I ... can I get on?" Harry asked not quite sure why he thought he understood what Mr. Wolf wanted to say to him.

With a single nod from the Wolf, Harry scrambled up onto the animal's back. Once Harry managed to get comfortable and grab onto his fur, which was actually quite soft, the Wolf got up and started trotting through the forest, not going too fast so he would not scare or make the boy fall.

As the wind was blowing Harry's hair, he wondered for a moment if he was not dreaming because riding such a huge wolf was the kind of dreams that his aunt could considered like stupid nonsense.

After a while, the Wolf led Harry to a small log cottage in the middle of the forest. Harry was a bit disappointed to see that the cottage wasn't made of sweets, but he had to admit it looked like a nice place to live. The Wolf crouched down and let Harry get out.

"Do you live here, Mr. Wolf?" Harry asked and the wolf nodded before getting up on its hind legs to open the door. It seemed unreal to Harry that a wolf could be nearly as tall as his Uncle Vernon. When the door finally opened, the Wolf nudged Harry inside.

Again Harry was a little disappointed that inside the cottage there were no chocolate tables or candy chairs as in the story, however, the boy had to admit that the place was quaint.

The cottage had a single large room where the kitchen was, a table with two chairs and a sofa in front of a fireplace that was lit. Harry also saw some stairs that probably led to a second floor and a basement, but what really caught the boy's attention was a photograph he saw on a pile of books next to the sofa.

The photo was moving! Harry saw in this a very pretty woman with long reddish hair who laughed out loud with her eyes closed as a deer went in and out of the photo making very ridiculous jumps.

‘That is indeed a silly image’ Harry thought, but for some reason, it also made him very happy. Harry didn't realize how long he'd stood there staring at that beautiful photo until he felt Mr. Wolf sting his back with his snout. Turning around, the boy found that the Wolf had brought him apples.

"Are they ... for me?" Harry asked, unable to contain the emotion in his voice and the Wolf nodded. Harry held up the two apples and not caring that they weren't candies like the ones the siblings in the story ate in the cottage, Harry devoured them. Rarely on Privet Drive aunt Petunia would bring apples or any kind of fresh fruit since Dudley hated them, however, once she "forgot" to send Harry his lunch, the teacher had given him an apple and for Harry, it had tasted delicious. The Wolf simply stared at the boy eating the fruit with such emotion and wondered when was the last time the little boy had eaten since he hadn't weighed anything when he had carried it.

When Harry finished his fruit, he spotted a trash can and tossed the apple cores there before yawning. Already calmer and enveloped by the warmth of the fireplace in the cottage, Harry started to feel sleepy. The wolf approached and without waiting for Harry to say something, he carefully lifted him from that big shirt that the boy was wearing and carried him to the sofa, where he sat him before jumping on it and putting his head between his legs.

Harry yawned again and rubbed his eye under his glasses, careful not to bruise his sore cheek. The wolf did not stop looking at him at any moment and when Harry turned to see him, he licked his injured cheek very, very carefully. That had felt different from how Mr. Wolf had licked it in the forest, for some reason Harry felt in his heart that the Wolf seemed to want to push away the pain he felt on his cheek and that only made the boy feel safe with the animal.

“Mr. Wolf ... do you think ... I can stay here with you?” Harry asked when the Wolf stopped licking his face. His cheek didn't hurt so much anymore.

The wolf's amber eyes returned to Harry's and Harry thought that if he didn't say something quickly, the Wolf might say no.

“I promise I will be good, and and and ... and I also can clean the floor and wash the dishes. I even know how to cook eggs and bacon” Harry said quickly with his hands a little shaky. He wasn't lying, he knew how to do that and more because they were the typical chores that Aunt Petunia made him do almost every day, but he still had problems cooking the bacon because it still burned a little because he was afraid of the oil since it had been burned the first time, but he couldn't let Mr. Wolf know that or he wouldn't let him stay.

The Wolf averted his eyes from Harry thoughtfully and suffocating anguish flooded the boy's chest. What if Mr. Wolf says no? where would he go? Uncle Vernon had told him that he never wanted to see his freaky face again which meant he couldn't go back to them. What would he do now that he was homeless?

A soft sob rose from Harry's chest as he hid his little face between his knees. Since he was little the Dursleys had taught him with a strong hand that he must not cry, so Harry always waits for the darkness of his cupboard to let his tears come out if he had had a bad day, and that had definitely been a bad day, at least until Mr. Wolf had arrived. Now with a full stomach and in a warm place, Harry allowed himself to cry because now he was truly alone and forever because no one wanted him.

The Wolf got off the couch and walked over to Harry to look at him as the little boy tried to hold back his tears.

"I ... don't have a home, Mr. Wolf ... please ... please ... let me stay" Harry sobbed.

It was moments like those when Harry felt the loneliest. Where he was aware that there was no one in the world who cared about him. No one would give him a cookie once in a while or worry if he would get hurt or wasn’t home or stay with him at night until he went to sleep.

No one...

Because the only people who could have done that for him were his parents, who had died in a car crash and Harry would never see them again. The Wolf moved closer to the boy and let out a groan of sadness. To Harry, it was as if the Wolf was trying to comfort him or was sad for him, which made him calm down a bit. Perhaps no adult cared for Harry but Mr. Wolf seems to and that was enough to make the boy smile again.

Harry hugged Wolf's head for a while before the Wolf leaped back onto the couch and pulled Harry by his shirt to lie on top of him.

"I promise you will not regret it, Mr. Wolf, I will always be very good and obedient ... so please, let me stay," Harry muttered, hiding his half-asleep face between the brown fur of the Wolf that smelled of chocolate.

♡/~/~/~/~/♡~/~/~/~/~/~/~♡/~/~/~/~/♡

Harry shifted a bit on the couch as the delicious smell of bacon hit his nostrils. Sitting a little sleepy, Harry noted to his delight that he was still in Mr. Wolf's cottage, however, when he looked around, Mr. Wolf was nowhere to be seen.

No, the only thing Harry saw, other than the incredible amount of books and photos that were moving around, was a young brown-haired man in the kitchen with his back to him who was whistling to himself. Harry crouched nervously on the couch. ‘Where was Mr. Wolf? Was that man the owner of the cottage? What if that man made him leave? What if he got mad at him? What if he hurt him more than Uncle Vernon did?’ Harry thought to himself.

The man turned away from the stove and turned, making his eyes fall on Harry, but instead of looking angry, Harry sees happiness in them.

"Good morning Harry," he said approaching Harry, allowing him to notice the different scars that adorned the arms and neck of that man.

"How ... how do you know my name?" Harry asked, forgetting the rule of not asking questions that his uncles had imposed onto him.

The man calmly approached and knelt down in front of Harry who was still curled up on the couch. The man's amber eyes reminded him of Mr. Wolf's eyes.

"I've known you for a long time, Harry, even before you were born," he said calmly looking at the boy with a fondness that Harry had only seen in his Aunt Petunia's eyes when he looked at Dudley.

"Really?" Harry felt something strange inside him that made him trust every word that man said.

“Yes, your parents and I were good friends, practically family.” he said as he raised his hand carefully so as not to scare Harry and stroking his hair.

“Family ... like a pack? That's the family of wolves, isn't it?” Harry asked excitedly to remember something they had taught him at school.

The man looked at him with an expression of surprise and amazement before letting out a very pleasant laugh that caused Harry to giggle. He definitely liked that man, he wasn't scary.

“You are absolutely right cub, like a pack,” said the man taking Harry in his arms, and although Harry had learned to stay away from any type of contact that adults wanted to give him because usually they always wanted to harm him.

But something in that man's eyes told Harry that nothing and no one would ever hurt him if he stayed with him, so the boy concluded that it was okay for him to put his little arms around that adult's neck as well as had done the night before while he slept on Mr. Wolf.

"What's your name, sir?" Harry asked as the man sat him on one of the dining room chairs to put in front of him a plate of eggs with bacon and orange juice.

“Remus Lupin, cub. But you can call me Moony”

#remus lupin #harry potter #werewolves #lily potter #magic #harry potter au #moony #packties

[deaf-sakura]

Signal (Deaf Sakura AU)

(This took me a while to churn out but I’m not mad at it; I love any sort of feedback so feel free to chat with me in the notes or via my askbox! You can find this on AO3 right here, so stop by and drop a kudo/subscribe if you can!)

Sakura sat on the bridge with her teammates, fidgeting with the choppy bangs framing her face and the stiff fabric of her new headband. Naruto kept glancing at her with a nervous grin, like he wanted to approach her but wasn’t sure how. She smiled politely back at him, not really wanting to start a conversation through notepad this early. Sasuke on the other hand stood motionless, not acknowledging either of them.

She sighed and scooted over to one of the poles supporting the bridge, resting her ear on the cool metal. Its surface buzzed from the river rushing below, and she watched a large branch drift towards her until it hit the bridge, sending up a hollow bang that vibrated in her ear.

That was a habit she’s had since preschool; it wasn’t a ‘deaf' thing so much as a ‘Sakura’ thing. Her favorite memories involved sprawling out on the school’s merry-go-round and pressing her ear against it while Ino and the other girls played around her. She’d giggle at how the vibrations from all their running, stomping, and spinning tickled her ear, and they’d gush about how her laugh was “so cute, like a baby’s!” later on (not that she’d know or care about how her laugh resembled a baby’s).

Now she sat here with two former classmates she barely knew and was desperately missing her old friends. Ino was the only one in the academy who could sign, so why on earth weren’t they put on the same team? Why did she have to be stuck with the hyperactive knucklehead who was always shouting at her? Or the sullen emo boy who wouldn’t look at her to talk, then got mad when she couldn’t read his lips?

Sakura sighed again, not caring who heard. And this new sensei who always wore a damn mask over his face? That had to be the worst part. She couldn’t even read his lips. When she motioned for him to pull the mask down, all he did was take out a sticky note and write down his directions (she made it a point to never write anything back). And here they were, one day after the bell test, groggy, bored, and probably being stood up by their new sensei.

Suddenly she sensed someone, their chakra to be exact. Probably the teacher. She could tell he was coming towards them quickly, his energy flickering wildly through the tree tops.

She tapped Sasuke’s foot to get his attention, but he barely glanced at her. She tugged at his pants leg, and he pulled away, making it a point to step just out of her reach. She quickly turned around, jaw clenched and cheeks burning. Naruto however was still watching her, now eagerly scooting closer to hear what she had to say. She paused before pointing at the canopy of leaves; he looked back and forth between her finger and the forest, brow knitting in confusion. She covered her face with the free hand and gestured towards the trees again. His eyes flickered.

“THE TEA-CHER?!” he shouted, over-enunciating every syllable. She gave him an awkward nod and a smile. Sasuke actually perked up at this, but he still wouldn’t look straight at her.

Within a second Kakashi appeared, perched on the railing with an arrogant grin clearly plastered on under the mask.

‘Good morning guys!’ he signed, lips moving under the mask as he spoke in tandem with his signing. He smiled at Sakura. ‘You signaled to the others that I was coming. Now tell me, how did you know that?’

‘I sensed...’ her arms froze as her mouth fell open.

‘My chakra?’ he finished. ‘That’s actually pretty good coming from a rookie. Good job.’ She stared blankly at him before her lips twisted into a snarl.

‘You sign?!’ He grinned and tried addressing the group again, but Sakura leapt in front of him and pulled his arms back down.

‘Why didn’t you do that yesterday?! Instead of making me read through all those stupid little sticky notes!’ She stomped her foot at the last word.

‘Relax, relax....’ his held his hands in the air defensively. ‘I’m still getting to know you guys and you’re still getting to know me. Can’t be spilling all my secrets so quick, can I?’

‘Liar!’ she snapped.

Honestly, he had no good reason. Maybe he didn’t want to get too chummy with a team he didn’t expect to keep. Maybe he didn’t want her bonding with an ANBU assassin until he knew he wasn’t going to go get his ass blown up on an S-rank mission. But none of that he wanted to explain right then and there.

‘Listen, I want you to be able to trust me, alright? From here on out I’ll keep signing. I’m not gonna let you fall behind or feel like you’re not a full fledged member of Team 7. I promise.’ He squeezed her shoulder. She eyed him pensively before nodding.

‘Okay.... First and foremost, let me give you two these. That should kick off your signing.’ He handed the boys two pocket-sized books labeled “Beginning Fire Nation Sign Language”. Sasuke scowled.

“Why do I have to be the one to-”

‘From here on out, this is officially a bilingual team. Most ninja develop some sign language to communicate on stealth missions and to work with deaf civilians and clients. However, you three will-’

“On stealth missions?! So like, you use it as some sort of secret code?!” Naruto snapped.

‘Yes, it’s like a secret code you can use on stealth missions,’ Kakashi repeated, trying to keep Sakura in the loop.

“That’s awesome!!!”

‘No,’ Kakashi shook his head. ‘Follow me.’ He held up his hand to his face and bent his fingers like claws, then motioned Naruto to do the same. He waved it over his mouth twice, nodding when Naruto mimicked perfectly.

‘Awesome,’ he repeated. ‘Start working on this; you say it and you sign it. That’s how we all communicate.’ Naruto grinned and repeated the sign to Sakura who smiled back.

‘Like I said, most ninja learn some sign, however working on this team your skills will greatly exceed that of your peers which will open you up to more missions. Just like any other skill set, I expect you all to work on your communication skills both during and outside of official practice. Is that understood?’

Sakura nodded her fist for ‘yes,’ and Naruto followed suit. Sasuke nodded curtly.

‘Great!’ Kakashi smiled. ‘Now, let’s get on to some real training.’

..........

To say Kakashi worked their asses off was an understatement, but to his credit, he did give them breaks.

Naruto collapsed in the grass after his tenth lap around the training grounds. Kakashi grinned and handed him a dictionary.

“If you have time to sit, you have time to study!” he said a little too sweetly. Naruto happily obliged, quickly thumbing through his new book. Sasuke used this as motivation to keep moving until he was dry heaving at the base of a pine tree. 

When Sakura fell to her knees panting, he loomed over her with that same saccharine-sweet grin behind his mask.

‘Let’s see.... You obviously don’t need to work on your signing. What can we work on while sitting down, hm?’ She shrugged sheepishly. He hit his fist into his palm with sudden realization. ‘Your academy teachers said you were great with chakra control!’

He pulled her up by her elbow and dragged her to the edge of the pond.

‘You’ve used chakra to climb up trees before, right?’

‘Just a little bit.... Ino’s dad taught me.’

‘Great! Well this isn’t much different. Focus your chakra at your feet, and just follow me.’ He stepped out onto the water and took three wide steps before turning back to her. She was smiling ear to ear in awe.

‘It’s the same idea, except you’re using your chakra to gently repel the water rather than glue yourself to the surface. Your turn, follow me!’ Sakura glanced between her sensei and the water before taking a shaky step onto the pond. Once she shifted enough weight on it to know it wouldn’t fall through, she lifted her back leg from the shore and put it in front. She started hobbling over to Kakashi’s side, latching onto his arm before she could lose her momentum. He quickly turned and dragged her out further onto the pond until they were way too far from shore for Sakura’s liking.

‘Now....’ Kakashi made the sign for chakra by his shins, telling her to redirect her chakra there.

‘And now sit!’ He pushed down on her shoulders until she awkwardly knelt on the surface. She bobbed shakily, her calves getting swallowed and spat out by the water until she found the right balance of chakra over so much surface area.

‘Good work. Now see how long you can hold this position while I go check on the boys.’ Kakashi grinned.

‘Wait, I just stay here like this?!’ Sakura snapped.

‘Yup, just come join us when you’re done!’

‘I don’t wanna fall in!!!’

‘Hm.... I can’t say I blame you. You better focus then!’ With that he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Now...Naruto, how are you doing?” he hummed. Naruto perked up at Kakashi.

“Oh...I’m doing great! I really like this stuff Kakashi sensei!” he grinned.

“Great. Show me one sign you’ve already learned.”

“Okay!!!” Naruto eagerly crossed his forearms and stuck up his thumb and pinkie on one hand, then started flexing his fingers on the other.

“Bullshit!!!” he hollered, cackling to himself. A single bead of sweat slipped down Kakashi’s forehead.

“Okay great. No, really, fantastic. Got anything useful though?” Just then a scream echoed around them followed by a splash. 

“She can swim right? Okay, yeah, she’s swimming, she’s fine,” Kakashi mumbled before turning back to Naruto.

Naruto hummed before touching his pointer finger to his wrist and waving his free hand.

“Leaf! Like the village.” Kakashi gave a more earnest smile at that.

“Alright, how about you Sasuke?”

“Tch.” 

Kakashi sighed and Naruto grimaced.

“Come on bastard, this stuff is actually pretty cool! Plus you should try to learn to talk to Sakura just a little bit! Not like we can be passing notes in the middle of a mission.”

“I don’t need to talk to her, loser. I don’t even need to be talking to you, either. You’ll both just get in my way.”

“Sasuke,” Kakashi hummed, giving him that fake smile. “No man is an island, no accomplished ninja today got where they are on their own. I know you have...goals. And signing with us won’t exactly help you accomplish them. But trust me when I say, becoming an integrated member of your four-man squad will help you develop your skills in the long run. It’s in no one’s best interest for you to isolate yourself.” He calmly held Sasuke’s gaze until the younger broke away. Just then Sakura came trudging in, soaked pond water.

‘I fell in!!!’ she snapped, huffing in anger.

‘You poor thing. Will you live?’ Kakashi snorted.

‘I saw him sign “bullshit” and it broke my concentration! How did he learn that?!’

“Ooh Kakashi-sensei, she cursed at you! I caught that! I’m already pretty sharp, huh?” Naruto laughed. Sakura caught just enough of what he said to look bemused.

‘Alright team!’ Kakashi spoke and signed. ‘I’d say we got off to a good start today. Meet back at the bridge tomorrow and we’ll start discussing our very first mission! Until then, you are all dismissed.’

Sasuke quickly turned on his heels to head home, while Naruto started running off and yelling his goodbyes behind him. But as Sakura tried to leave, Kakashi tapped her shoulder.

‘I’m just now realizing, I never got your sign name,’ he said. Sakura smiled shyly. She held up two fingers on each hand and traced them down the sides of her head, from her scalp to her ears. Kakashi copied her.

‘Ah, so like your headband?’

‘Not really. I had this ribbon growing up that my friend Ino gave to me. I wore it to hold my hair back with every single day until I was given my headband. I still have it though, the ribbon!’ she grinned.

‘Okay then, Sakura....’ He emphasized her name now that he had it. ‘I’ll see you back at the bridge tomorrow first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I want you to start thinking up sign names for all of Team 7 so we can easily communicate. Understood?’ She nodded before he once again he disappeared in a puff of smoke, letting Sakura be the last one to leave the training ground.

#sakura haruno #pro sakura #deaf!sakura #sakuino #inosaku #deaf sakura #team 7 #kakashi and sakura have a good HEALTHY student/teacher relationship #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #kakashi hatake #deaf character #based off ASL

[trashpandaorigins]

The Body Keeps the Score  Ch. 16 Bonds of Blood and Steel

"You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

Don't you understand, what I'm trying to say?

And can't you feel the fears I'm feeling today?

If the button is pushed, there's no running away,

There'll be no one to save with the world in a grave,

Take a look around you, boy, it's bound to scare you, boy,

And you tell me over and over and over again my friend,

Ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

Eve of Destruction - Barry McGuire

Rocket sped toward the third sector of the Keystone quadrant with reckless abandon. He made sure there was enough fuel for the long haul, and was of course armed to the teeth. He concentrated on tracking Nebula’s pod and piloting the pod around the thousands of keystones that the quadrant was named after. Harmless pieces of rock floating in space but depending on the size it could really mess up your ship if you hit one. He concentrated on anything, anything but Groot. Anything but Gamora, anything but the Nova Corps or the weapons he’d left behind that Drax had no doubt gotten into by now.

Damn guy can never keep his hands to himself.

The raccoonoid guided the pod around another set of keystones, glancing at the screen for any detection of Nebula’s pod. He counted the rounds of ammunition he’d packed if only for a distraction.

Groot’ll be fine. Quill can barely take care of his ship but he knows better with an actual living creature right? Well at least Drax was a parent at some point he’ll now Groot needs feeding and attention...won’t he?

He sniffed, whiskers twitching, on the small rectangular screen before him he could just make out the marker for the third sector and beyond that the blinking dot of the other stolen pod.

Damn escape pods don’t have any guns on em’.  He hadn’t taken that into consideration in his inebriated plan. Rocket glanced down at the weapons around him, tucked in and around the seat. The only advantage was that Nebula didn’t get the chance to pack.

“Beep, beep, beep, Pod 2 identified, thirty lengths away.”  Rocket reached down, grabbing for Quill’s elemental blaster at his hip, the weight of it heavy. He scanned the endless sky stretching out in all directions, a void of black set against the drifting stones. His fur pricked with anxiety, the Keystone Quadrant was large, but not that large and if what Gamora said was true...there were Halfworlder’s out there right now, looking for him.

But she didn’t give me up to them . Probably because she’s a good person, despite everything that purple asshole did to her. How she’d managed to come out of her torture a better person, he’d never know but he envied it. Oh no, he was much more like Nebula. Hopefully that would work to his advantage.

As if on cue the orange escape pod stood out contrast to the rest of the galaxy before him. He flicked on the communications,

“Nebula, this is Rocket. Land on the nearest Keystone, we gotta talk.”

He held his breath, watching her pod slowly come into focus; though he kept enough space between them and several stones, just in case.

“Nebula! Land on the nearest Keystone! I want to make a deal!”

Her pod swung away, ducking underneath a large stone.

“Shit!”

Rocket punched the accelerator taking off after her. Whipping around a stone and launching over another, the orange light of Nebula’s engines streaked across the pebbled sky. He turned to the starboard side, narrowly missing another stone in pursuit of Nebula.

“Why don’t these things go any faster?!”

He cursed, surging forward. The engines shook sputtering. He turned straining to see the fiery tail of Nebula’s pod. The raccoonoid growled in frustration as his own ship sputtered after her.

Closer….closer...I got yah, I….fuck!

His escape pod shook, the sound of metal against rock crunched and scrapped. He grabbed for the controls, trying to push it forward but the keystone he’d grazed now stuck to the bottom of the pod.

Rocket looked upward, noticing the last bit of bright light from Nebula’s pod fade into the dark. He grabbed for the emergency space suit nestled under the seat and wiggled it on, at least five sizes too large.

“Stars damn it,” the raccoonoid opened the hatch, bracing for the cold. He shifted the  hadron enforcer in one paw, taking aim, leaning out over the pod precariously, took aim and fired.

The pod lurched forward, sending his stomach into a sickening torpor. He slammed the lid down over himself and fixated on the map once more. He tracked her down easily enough and leapt over a large stone, wincing at the way the pod rattled.

It ain’t gonna be space-worthy for long.

He pushed it forward, with a satisfied laugh as Nebula’s ship came back into view.

“Not going so fast now are yah?”

He grinned, steering his own ship higher and ahead, over a large keystone. Nebula’s craft gilded under and he took his chance. Diving down just in front of Nebula’s pod. The stutter of her engines blasted as she struggled to pull up in time. Rocket glared at her from his pod, her own suspicious eyes met his. She bared her teeth, making to steer to the leeward side but the raccoonoid intercepted, knocking his ship against hers with a hot clang of metal and fuel

“Nebula! I just want to talk!”

“Shut up fox, I know you’re with Gamora,” her voice seethed through the poor speaker system. This time she sent the pod flying upward. Rocket tensed, pursuing her. He angled the pod directly under her own and sent the struggling engines to propel upward, the glass of the dome creaked and groaned as he slammed into the bottom of her ship. Pushing it up and up.

Keystone to the right, Rocket noticed out of his peripheral. He tried to steer her pod towards it, as she struggled to break free. The raccoonoid held his breath, bracing himself for the impact as he pulled the throttle down all the way, sending his ship into full speed.

I’m sorry Groot….Quill better keep his promise...I’m sorry Gams. For everything.

He shoved Nebula’s ship into the large stone, metal and fire and fuel colliding with the hard rock. Everything rattled, a muffled scream in the distance he was pretty sure was Nebula.

They hurled into the surface of the stone. Everything shaking, Rocket swallowed the sickness in his stomach, trying to keep his head straight as everything spun. The heat from their engines revved, tumbling and intensifying.

What the hell were you thinking?! Quill could come up with a better plan than this!

Rocket’s cybernetic implants burned with the building heat. The metal conducted heat as swiftly as they launched into the rock. The impact stung, rolling and jostling. The raccoonoid cursed, eyes roving. He curled his paws around the steering throttle trying to control the crash. Nebula’s ship tore away from his with a deafening shriek of metal. The velocity gradually slowed, and the raccoonoid swallowed down his vomit, head in a daze.

When the pod eventually came to a screeching halt he hardly knew it.

“N...nebula?”

He coughed, wiggling his limbs, trying to breath through the pain of his aching back and searing chest. The cybernetics are still hot to the touch, threatening to melt his flesh. He fumbled for Quill’s blaster and a pistol and heaved himself out of the pod via the shattered glass dome. Wincing with the scraps of sharp glass embedding into his fur Rocket fell lamely out of the ship with a thud. Pulling on the hood of the space suit he still worse, he looked around in a fog.

Nebula’s pod was strewn several lengths away, he leveled the blaster in his shaking paws and fired a blast of ice at the dome of the pod where the woman was struggling to open it.

Oh yeah, I see why Quill likes this so much!

“Where is she?!” Nebula growled, Rocket fired again. This time the icy blast shattered the glass. The cyborg woman shielded herself only to lash out and aim to fire back at Rocket with some concealed gun apparatus in her cybernetic arm. The raccoonoid ducked out of the way.

“She ain’t with me! I came alone! Will yah’ just put the dast arm away!”

He waited, watching her climb out of the escape pod, cursing and stumbling out onto the barren rocky wasteland.

How the hell is she still alive?

He wondered upon watching her stalk towards him without any space suit or protection whatsoever. Rocket bit his tongue but slowly lowered the blaster to the ground and raised his arms up.

“I didn’t come here to fight yah.”

Nebula grimaced but lowered her arm to her side, standing stiff and glowering down at him. A Flarken ready to attack.

“Gamora’s not with you?” She demanded hotly.

“If Gamora was with me we wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation now would we?”

The cyborg woman looked around the barren keystone suspiciously, finally looking down at him once more.

Wish there was some sort of rock or somethin’ to stand on, he thought with a pinch of anxiety. It was better, to at least be eye level with the person you were negotiating with. Plus she’d have the advantage of a higher vantage point if she did choose to attack. The small pistol concealed in the space suit did little to reassure him.

“You said you were here to make a deal?”

“Well….you hate Thanos don’t yah? Even more than your sister.”

Nebula’s mouth twitched, face as hard as steel.

“I know you want to kill him and I don’t blame yah. Hell, I’d help you do it. But what if I I told yah I could give you somethin’ better?” He asked, with practiced cunning. He watched her face shift subtly into curiosity.  

There yah go, you got her. Just like Contraxia and Vartor and Pleeta.

Just like every other bargain or blackmarket job he’d taken. Every con, every bet. With that, he continued with easy confidence. He put his arms down, speaking with an old bravado.

“Why kill the big guy when you can undo what he did to you? Kill him, you’re still the same old metal hunk of junk, even after he’s gone. Undo what he did to you, that’s real revenge and you can always kill him after that too.”

He watched her momentarily glance at her metal arm. That agony, that self-loathing, the alienation and disgust at your own body. All familiar.

“What if I told yah...I could undo it all. Everything he did to yah.”

She exhaled a shaking breath. Rocket smiled to himself.

“I can meld over that metal, give you a flesh lookin’ arm. Probably remove that thing all together and attach a real flesh and blood one if you wanted. I could take that piece in your head, make it so it matches your actual skin.” 

Could fix the internal stuff too...It would be risky and take longer but it could be done. But I could leave her mods so she could still fight... his imagination ran wild with the possibilities.

Nebula listened intently, her jaw loosening. She opened her mouth to speak but Rocket was on fire now.

“And that’s just the outside stuff, all those procedures I could make it so you’d no longer remember them.”

The ecstasy of ideas and excitement was suddenly pulled out of him and he swallowed the lump in his throat, looking down at his own augmented legs.

“Make it so you don’t wake up screamin’ no more. It’d be like he never tortured you.”

No wind, no air in the galaxy made for quite the awkward silence between them.

“What’s the catch?” She finally whispered after a time. Rocket’s ears pricked upward, “I said what’s the catch? What do you want out of this rodent?”

Rocket sniffed, tail twitching, then took a deep breath.

“You gotta promise me you’ll give up this murderous revenge spree with Gamora.”

Nebula eyed him incredulously, but didn’t move to shoot him. Rocket continued quickly before she changed her mind.

“She was a kid Nebula. She was doin’ what she had to survive. She didn’t think about what Thanos was doing to yah not cuz she didn’t see it or cuz she didn’t care...it was cuz it would’ve gotten in the way of her own survival.”

He stopped waiting for Nebula to attack him. But she only blinked, frowning. Out here on this isolated rock spinning through the galaxy it felt like they were the only two people in the universe.

“It’s instinct,” he whispered, voice low. “You would’ve done the same.” He paused, breathing heavy with effort. He didn’t dare meet her eyes.

“When I escaped the lab, I blew up buildings, killed whoever was in my way. S….shot at anything that moved. I….I didn’t think about freeing anyone else and I didn’t feel guilty when the o...others got experimented on.” Though he could still hear them, their pathetic cries, whimpering, shrieking, mewling.  

Blackjack...Lylla...all of them in there.

“I...I didn’t feel guilty….cuz it meant they weren't experimenting on me But Gamora does feel guilty an’ she’s a better person because of it.”

Nebula pressed her lips into a fine line. Rocket sighed, more exhausted now than angry.

“She’s tryin’ to make it right. I’m askin that you ever meet her again...that y...you give her that chance. An you know, don’t kill her.”

The cyborg woman glared at him. Black eyes full of intentions Rocket could not discern. The only thing the scientists did not condition into him were emotions. He watched her weigh the options. Standing stiff and staring at the cold grey rock surface between them. Rocket held his breath. He could almost feel the keystone orbiting though the sky. Nebula breathed slowly, he watched her precariously.

“....You better make it worth it, fox,” she growled with conviction.

Light relief flooded through him.

“I will.”

He reached slowly for Quill’s blaster and hooked it into the buckle at his hip, striding past Nebula to her pod.

“Where are we going?” She demanded, following him.

“You think I got a whole med facility hiding under this desolate rock?” He jumped into the pod, fiddling with the controls to distract himself. Nebula climbed in next to him.

“Then where are we going? “

Rocket’s muscles tightened, his stomach churning. He shook his head, running a paw over his eyes, hoping she could not detect the terror in his voice. He tapped in the codes with trembling fingers

“.......the worst place in the galaxy pal.”

Out of the corner of his eye Nebula bared her teeth,

“I’m not your pal.”

“Yeah,” Rocket punched the ignition, bracing as the pod took off. “I’m not my pal either.”

#the body keeps the score fic #rocket raccoon #nebula #groot #baby groot #gamora #gotg #Guardians of the Galaxy #drax #Drax The Destroyer #my writing #peter quill #star lord

[invisbledragon]

Tinsel Tidings (Wolfstar Secret Santa 2019)

Christmas time at a magical school located somewhere in Scotland 1977. Two boys with fates entwined. One with a dark history, one that is marred. Love can find a place to grow.

Rating: General Audiences Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Oblivious Idiots, Pining Idiots, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Music, Jewish Remus lupin Jewish Character, LGBTQ Jewish Character, LGBTQ Character, Werewolf Remus Lupin, POV Remus Lupin, Gift Fic, Gift Exchange, Tumblr: tumblrsecretsanta, Full Moon, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), The Marauder's Map, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius Black & James Potter are Brothers, Sad Sirius Black, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting, Veritaserum

Due to the fact that this is over 1K this is hidden under the cut.

Cross-posted to Pillowfort and to Ao3.

    It was the annual Christmas party, and a certain scarred wolf boy was searching the decked halls for his… friend. Yeah... his friend; that’s what they were after all. Just… friends?

    Once he’d managed to make his escape from the brightly lit Gryffindor common room and their garish green decorations, clashing against the bright red and gold of the common room colours, Remus had been relieved to see the simple silver suits of armour in the halls, unadorned and not screaming a bewitched version of Christmas songs that were ringing about back where Remus had just escaped from. That and all his friends screaming and hooting and shrieking in glee at the sight of the shiny gift papers piled into a stack for the remaining students at Hogwarts to descend upon in haotic madness. It hadn’t taken very long for Remus to exhaust himself in the madness of the common room, not particularly enjoying himself, what with the dread of the evening’s activities looming ahead. It would, after all; be the full moon and he would once again transform into a slobbering beast craving the-

    Remus slapped himself in the face briskly attempting to derail his thoughts. This was a time of merriment and cheer and he would not allow his negativity to curdle his thoughts and turn this into a miserable event for everyone. And… speaking of miserable events…     Remus spied a familiar name upon Jamie’s map that he had… borrowed. Without asking. Friends could do that, after all. There, in the Astronomy Tower, there was Sirius, proof of it in the ink on parchment clasped inside a suddenly clammy hand. An equally clammy hand grasping a silver wrapped gift; what if he’d read Sirius wrong. No.

    Remus mused as he climbed the stone steps of the Astronomy Tower; he knew his friend. And this was The gift for him, especially with what had gone down this past summer. Bygones were bygones after all. Especially when they were as close a group of friends as they were… family practically. James and Sirius were definitely brothers.

    “Sirius.” He whispered reverently, the name echoing hauntingly at the raven haired boy curled up in the corner; as much as a corner could be in a space with no edges. Remus let his gaze drift over the older boy, taking in the tattered quilt, the manic glint in his eyes dulled by the cold, his wand laying just out of reach, and the shine of green gift paper. He’d been hiding, then. 

    Was it Regulus? Was it Walburga; that bi-... Remus cut off his thinking, no cursing out his best mate’s mum if he wasn’t in the mood for it.

    And looking at the defeated slump of his shoulders, Sirius was not in the mood for much of anything. So Remus kept quiet, pulling his cloak further round his shoulders, and biting back a grimace as he settled onto the icy stone to wait out this time with his dearest pal.

    It was when the sun dipped behind the trees to begin its descent, Sirius stirred, his voice a mere whisper as he shivered.

    “So much has happened over our years here at Hogwarts. Never once did I think I’d find a family who loved me as much as I loved them. Never once did I know what it felt like to be hugged without fingers pinching at me. I didn’t know what it would feel like to laugh and smile without fear of being shushed or yelled at for being improper. These last few years have turned me from a porcelain doll into a right proper person. And yet; I still find myself scared sometimes. That same lost little boy I was back in first year.”

    Remus listened to Sirius speak, the cadence belying his calm. Sirius shifted and half turned to Remus, eyes fixating on a spot just over his ear, a method Sirius used when he was too nervous to meet someone's eyes if this was a topic of great difficulty or sensitivity to him. 

    “You might have guessed by now, that there was something I wanted to talk to you about, but I wasn’t sure how to go about this. Since this is our last Christmas, or Yule, or Hanukkah in your case at Hogwarts, I figured there was no time like the present.” Sirius hesitated and with his tongue wetted his lip and wiped away the slight moisture that was pooling in the dip of his upper lip. “That, and James said if I didn’t spill he’d dose me with Veritaserum and lock us in a room together; and this way, at least if you don’t like what I have to say, you can leave anytime.”     Remus leaned forward and grasped Sirius’s hands with his own, meeting the molten silver gaze with his own. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would make me want to walk away from you, and drop our friendship and this bond that we have.”     Sirius swallowed heavily, “I don’t want to be friends with you anymore.”

    Remus reeled back, breath punched out of him, ears ringing hollowly. Had he heard him right?

    Sirius leaned forward and placed his now free hands onto Remus’ shoulders. “No. No! Listen to me. I don’t want to be friends with you anymore, at least not just friends. I want to be more than just friends. Remus; I think I love you.” His voice cracked on the last sentence, the air hanging still between them.

    Remus stilled. Now that he’d definitely heard. How many times had he imagined those words spilling from Sirius’ mouth? How many times had he dreamed of this happening, and now, was it really coming to be?

    Remus sobbed, elation lighting him up from inside. “Yes! Sirius yes, so many times yes. You’ve no idea just how many times I’ve wanted to ask you this same thing.”

    Sirius sank backwards onto his heels with the weight of Remus flinging himself into his arms, tears of joy streaming down his face. He’d done it. He’d actually.. And it had… “IT WORKED!” He shouted and he gripped Remus tightly, needing to be grounded lest he fly away with this balloon of joy that was bubbling up inside of himself like a fountain overflowing.

    They knelt there, kneeling on the stone floors and woolen cloaks until the sky changed pitch and cast shadows into the Tower. Remus pulled back with a sharp gasp, face contorting in pain.

    “It’s time, isn’t it?” Remus nodded in answer to Sirius’ question.

    “Its nearly sundown.” Sirius stood, and helped his… his boyfriend! to his feet. He scooped up the gifts as he trotted his way to the stairs, they could exchange them later. They had elsewhere to be.   

    The sun was rapidly sinking as they hurried their way across the ice-slicked grounds, following a familiar path to the Whomping Willow, meeting their friends under the now stilled branches of the great tree, ice cold ground hard under their hands, feet, and knees as they crawled and then walked into the familiar cavernous trail that led to the Shack. Remus unclasped his cloak, already prepared for the shift in his oldest clothing.

    Just before the shift overtook Remus, Sirius called out with a cheerful grin and a playful wink; “Next time we come down into Hogsmeade, let’s do it properly. It’ll be our first date, what do you say, aye?” And then he shifted in midair, black fur melting down his arm, spine elongating, and soft pads hitting the wooden boards with a dull thump.

    It was time for another full moon; but this one didn’t seem quite as bad as the others before it.

#Fluff #Getting Together #Oblivious Idiots #Pining Idiots #Mutual Pining #Hapy Ending #Christmas #Christmas Fuf #Christmas Party #Christmas Music #Jewish Remus Lupin #Jewish CHrcter #LGBTQ Jewish CHaracter #LGBTQ Character #Werewolf Remus Lupin POV Remus Lupin #Gift Fic #Gift Exchange #Tumblr: tumblrsecretsanta #Full Moon #Marauders Era (Harry Potter) #Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter) #The Marauders Map #Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship #SiriusBlack & James Potter are Brothers #Sad Sirius Black #Walburga Black's A+ Parenting #Veritaserum #Harry Potter #fanfiction #fic

[nalufever]

For the Best

Chapter two of On Camera

Fandom: The Flash

Snowells, Caitlin Snow x Harry Wells

Rated: mature (future lemon)

Caitlin held her pillow in a death grip, a thin line of saliva connecting her to it as she crooned softly in her sleep. Her smartphone chirped with the tone from an incoming text which she was able to ignore. Mere seconds later, Caitlin's alarm blared rock music and she rolled and bolted upright, bleary eyes and clumsy hands searching for her phone to quell the source of the disturbance.

Get up. Your ride is here.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and onto the floor, Caitlin detached her phone from her charger and started typing a response. Is there coffee?

Her phone pinged and a picture popped up on screen - two large steaming coffee confections. Caitlin tapped furiously. Gimme ten minutes!

New music blared and Caitlin swiped to answer the phone, closing her eyes. "Yes?"

"Hey. Do you want me to wither waiting in the car or come on in so you can take longer getting ready?"

"Harry, you already know." Caitlin giggled and then tapped the 'hang up' icon. Life was funny. They'd immediately clicked as friends from day one of the movie shoot, bonding over lunch and shared scenes. They were written as good friends and that had naturally morphed over into their real lives. It wasn't hard after all - Harry treated everyone with enormous respect and kindness.

When her car had developed an unholy rattle (and her garage mechanic was booked for several weeks), Harry had volunteered to drive her, saying he was sure Caitlin would do the same for him.

Harry knocked on the front door, waited a minute and then let himself in with the key Caitlin had insisted on giving him. Caitlin had a nasty habit of falling back asleep. Having another person making noise helped keep her awake - most of the time. He wandered into the kitchen and popped the muffins he'd brought into the microwave, looking for the butter where he'd left it last - having to take the butter out of the fridge. He sighed. Rock hard. He'd have to nuke that too or risk turning the pastries into crumbs.

The two coffees he set on the kitchen island and moved to the sink. Dirty plates and take-out containers scattered on the countertop. Harry grinned; time to make some noise. He ran the hot water, dumped in a healthy amount of soap and began to clean the dishes, making sure to drop the silverware into the sink of bubbles and then into the other side, piece by clean piece.

"Can you not make such a racket?" Caitlin trudged over to her drink and took a sip, sighing with contentment. "God, this is soooo good."

"You don't have to call me God."

"I wasn't. Should I call you the butter police?" Caitlin took the butter off the counter and moved it into the fridge. "Can you please stop doing that?"

"What?" Harry turned his smile to maximum wattage. "Making it easily usable?"

"I keep it cold for portion control if you must know. The harder it is to spread, the less I use."

"…" Harry shook his head and restrained himself from looking at Caitlin's fit body. "You don't need to diet."

"Tell that to my agent and most of the directors I've worked with." Caitlin noticed the pair of buttered muffins gently steaming on a plate. "At least you'll be gaining weight with me."

"Then let's eat." Harry started the sink draining, wiping his hands on a towel and slouched on his favourite barstool. "You're gonna need energy for today's shoot - they've got you scheduled for that running scene."

"Oh yeah," -Caitlin snagged a piece of muffin right out of Harry's hand-"might as well carb up then." She smirked, breaking into a giggle at Harry's look of outrage. "You're the one who told me I don't have to diet, you've got no one to blame but yourself."

He smiled. "I'm my own worst enemy."

Director Tina flipped pages on her script and frowned. "This scene is right before 'Tom' makes his big discovery - but you're supposed to be angry at his distrust of you, 'Danielle.' I need your running to be angry."

"Sorry, I'll do better." Caitlin apologized, lips pressed in a tight line. "I won't let you down." Her eyes were drawn to Harry who approached Iris and whispered into her ear. Caitlin scowled.

"Perfect!" Tina clapped her hands. "That expression - perfect."

Caitlin allowed the wardrobe workers to tidy her appearance for the hopefully last take she'd need to do running in stupidly high heels. The clapperboard was held in front of the camera, clapped - and Caitlin started acting.

"Drop me off at Trevelyan's Tavern?" asked Caitlin. "I accepted a last minute date and it was just easier to meet right after work. So glad they don't need me for the weekend."

"Of course." Harry glanced at his passenger. "Mind giving me directions?"

Caitlin fumbled with her phone, tapping away and giving up with a frown. "I'm out of juice - hand me yours?"

"I'd love to, but I'm sitting on it." Harry stole another look at Caitlin, his expression unreadable. "Don't get weird about this, but-"

"I'm not about to reach in there and grab it!"

"Y'know when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me?" Harry pointed at the glove box. "As I was about to say, don't get weird about this, but I picked up a charging cable for your brand of phone."

"Oh." Caitlin knew her cheeks were radiating heat and colour. "Sorry."

"Heh, as if I'd hit on someone young enough to be my daughter."

"I know. You have too much class for that, but you can't be my dad's age," exclaimed Caitlin. "He's seventy." She grinned. "I'm not as young as I look either."

"Most people would just reassure me I'm not old." Stopped at a traffic light, Harry gave Caitlin a mock glare. "You know us actors are sensitive about our ages."

"You're many things, but you're not age obsessed." Caitlin withdrew the cord from the glove box and connected her phone. "Thanks."

"Don't be too happy. I didn't want you using all my data."

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, old man."

Home had never called so strongly to Harry before; the weather was beautiful - a brightly blazing sun and endless blue sky - the grass and flowers were out in full glory. Harry removed his shoes and took his book out into the courtyard so he could enjoy the fresh air, turning on his favourite music before settling down on an Adirondack chair.

Realizing he'd read the same paragraph several times without making sense of it, he shut the book and sighed. Something felt…off. Not quite right. Work on the movie was going good - most of his scenes were in the can and he was enjoying his co-workers - well, most of them. He still hadn't warmed up very much to Julian, but the man had made an effort to be more friendly.

Stomach rumbling, Harry decided to fix that problem, but upon surveying the contents of his fridge decided a trip to the grocery store was first. Or should he dine out? Thoughts of Trevelyan's Tavern flitted into his brain and he immediately squashed them. Caitlin and her date were there, and it was already weird enough that they were carpooling, if he showed up and Caitlin noticed, she would definitely think he was creepin'. Did young people call it that anymore? Eh.

Harry pulled into the closest supermarket and parked - but before he could exit the car, his phone rang. "Yello?"

"I need a favour! Can you pick me up?"

"I'm fine, how're you?"

Harry regretted his flippancy at Caitlin's next words. "My date is not going well - he's got a restraining order against him-" her voice grew louder, "-and he's proud of that!"

"I can be there in under ten minutes." Harry grimaced. "Has he threatened you?"

"No, but he's creeping me out something fierce." Her voice faltered, and in the background, Harry could hear a staccato knocking. "Ugh - he's pounding on the ladies' room door. Come in and tell him I've got a family emergency?"

"Hang in there, I'm on my way."

Caitlin saw Harry first and bolted from her chair so fast it almost toppled. "Harry!"

"What's going on?" asked Caitlin's date, "You know this guy? That ain't your dad, is it?"

Life pivots on a fulcrum - choices, opportunity, and serendipity wreak havoc on the best-laid plans and intentions.

"I'm her -"

"Previous boyfriend!" Caitlin lunged over to take hold of Harry's hand and started babbling. "Just seeing you has stirred up memories! I realize now I can't move forward because I'm still stuck on you." She flung her purse over her shoulder and gave her ill-fated date a stilted smile. "It wouldn't be fair to you to lead you on, I'm sorry, Tony."

Confusion was replaced by arrogance on Tony's reddening face. "You're out with me, he musta dumped you and you think he'd take you back like that?" Tony snapped his fingers to emphasize his point. "I don't think so."

"Regardless of what you think, the lady has ended her date with you - and we'll be leaving." Harry had to admit he liked how tight Caitlin was twined around his arm, but this was a performance and he loathed how her fear of this guy, Tony, was making her act.

"Not before she pays her share. I don't like not gettin' something for something." Tony rose out of his seat and glared. "This place ain't cheap, and-"

Harry held out his hand and cut off Tony. "Allow me." Harry took out his wallet as best he could one-handed and tossed several twenties onto the table. "We'll be going." He patted Caitlin on the shoulder and smiled.

Caitlin gave a jerky nod and if her smile wasn't happy at least it was relieved. "I think this is for the best."

"Whatever." Tony picked up the money and shoved it into a pocket. "What a waste of my valuable time."

#On Camera #the flash #chapter 2 #For the Best #mature #future lemon #snowells #Caitlin Snow #Harry Wells #Snow x Wells #nalufever

[diannaphantomfiction]

Karivarry LifeSwap AU Writing Prompts. Prompt 10/♾: Red Hot

Prompt requested by an anonymous asker. Here’s the Prompt:

Prompt for the KarivarrySwap AU, Kara Gets tortured, being the only human in the trio, and Barry and Oliver move heaven and earth to save her. Basically Angst for Kara bc im a sucker for that. :)

The thugs had gotten lucky. Barry, Kara, and Oliver had drawn straws to figure out who’s home they were staying at tonight because even though they had talked about, they hadn’t moved in together yet. They ended up in Central, with a pinkie promise that they would get Kara back home in time for work the next day. They were just settling in for dinner when they had realized that Barry only had one box of pasta which would have been more than enough for Kara and Barry, But Oliver needed around 200,000 calories a day. Carbs were his best friends and he would eat around 3 times as much pasta as Kara and Barry combined.

“I’ll be back soon.” Kara said, slipping a single dagger into a holster on the small of her back. “I’m just going to that store around the corner.”

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to go with you?” Oliver asked.

Kara smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I can beat you both up. I’ll be fine. Barry?”

Barry poked his head around the corner from the kitchen and Kara blew him a kiss. Barry beamed and with a rush of air, left a feather light kiss on her cheek and speed back to the kitchen. She rolled her eyes and left the apartment.

They had jumped her on the street, injecting her with a fast acting sedative before she could fight them off. Kara managed to get a couple good hits in, but she was small, even with her muscle mass, and it started working quickly. Her hits became sloppier until she was seeing double and fell into a wall. The last thing she felt were their arms wrapping around her as her vision tunneled to black.

She didn’t open her eyes when she woke up, choosing instead to access the situation first. She had been stripped down to her underwear and sports bra, and one of the thugs was currently feeling the bottom and seams of her bra for weapons. As they moved onto her underwear she turned her focus to her bindings to focus on honestly anything else. The metal cuffs holding her arms high above her head and the cuffs binding her ankles together were not just tight enough to hurt, but too tight for her to wiggle out of, even if she dislocated her thumb. Her entire weight was resting on her wrists and her tiptoes. Oh, that was going to start hurting soon.

They’d untied her hair from it’s signature braid too, as though she could actually have a weapon hidden in it. Honestly, her hair wasn’t even thick. At most, she would have a bobby pin, but she didn’t even have that.

Kara waited until she heard the thugs walking away to open her eyes and test the bonds. She could barely move an inch and she certainly wasn’t getting out of this unless something changed. Right now, she only had one choice.

“Barry...Barry, please hear me…I don’t know where I am, but I’m in trouble...big trouble…”

She kept whispering to Barry on repeat, knowing that if she repeated it enough, it would eventually break through the constant buzz of background noise Barry dealt with daily. She kept it up until she heard the click of a very familiar heels. No. That was impossible.

The door swung open and in she walked, wearing that all too familiar multi-layered black and grey suit, sans bow and quiver, the one thing that she wore that wasn’t necessarily the best for fighting were those kitten heeled boots, but she fought in them as well as Kara fought in her combat boots.

“Astra,” Kara snarled, mouth tugging into an ugly grimace.

Astra tuck a couple steps forward, placing her hands behind her back contemplatively. “Hello, Kara.”

“You’re dead. I killed you.” Kara jerked forward as best she could, but it wasn’t much.

“Let’s just say it didn’t stick and leave it at that.” Astra smiled, sinisterly. “Well, no, not leave it at that, actually. See, it’s not easy to forgive your murderer.”

“Fuck you. You wanted to level an entire section of town, you were going to murder thousands!”

“Semantics. You have named yourself, judge, jury and executioner of National City. Now, it’s my turn to do the same to you.” With a flick of her wrist, her baton was extended to full length. “And I’ve found you so very guilty. First, I’m going to break you my dear. Then I’m going to go after those sweet boys of yours. I’m going to make you watch as I slaughter them, as I slit their throats in front of you and bleed them dry. And only then and only then am I going to kill you, and it’s not going to be quick, I promise you that.”

Kara grunted as the baton connected with her ribs, hard enough to leave a very nasty bruise. This was not going to be fun.

Astra beat her until she grew tired of it, then sent in her thugs to continue the work and they beat her until she was unconscious, only to walk her up again in a couple hours to start again.

This repeated twice and by the time she had fallen under the third time, she had several broken ribs, a cracked jaw, a broken wrists, bleeding from her wrists and ankles, and numerous large horrid bruises. When she was woken up, it was to heat in the small, cold cell. Kara stared at the fire Astra had built in the middle of the room with horror in her eyes. She could imagine what Astra had planned, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Good morning, dear,” Astra’s smile was wicked and just as terrifying as the fire, she was holding a long metal rod. “Well, good for me.”

She placed the rod half into the fire. “Grab her feet.”

“No. No.” Kara struggled and tried to kick as the two men grabbed her legs and lifted them. She couldn’t get any leverage though, all she could could do was wiggle helplessly and open the wounds on her wrists again.

Astra removed the pole from the fire, red hot, and moved forward. With a sizzle, the red end of the pole met the sole of Kara’s foot. Despite the pain, Kara’s jaw fell open and she screamed.

Kara had been missing for two days. And a long two days it had been. Within two hours they were worried sick. Within three, they were searching the city frantically and they continued to until they had to stop to eat, sleep, and soak under the home sunlamp they had for Barry. Their bed was cold and empty, neither one of them wanting to move into the center where Kara usually lay. More than once, they found themselves reaching for her in the night, to place their hands on her back or shoulder like they usually would.

As soon as they had woken up and eaten, they were right back out there, Barry sustaining himself on the light of the sun, and Oliver only stopping to speed eat snacks. Barry was flying just outside the city when he saw something weird, our more accurately, he didn’t see something.

“Ollie. I think I found her. I’m heading in.”

“I’ve got your signal. I’ll be there is just under a minute.”

Barry flew in as quickly as he could and straight into a small group of hired thugs. They weren’t difficult to take out in the slightest, he did it with such ease that he wasn’t even breathing heavily by the time he was done. Then, he opened the next door and felt cold air rush in place of his blood. There she was.

Barry flew over and upped her face in his hands. Kara didn’t open her eyes. Her heart was beating though, and air wheezing through her lungs. She was too warm though. Way to warm. And the smell of burning flesh filled his nose and Barry’s heart sunk. He kneeled down and lifted her feet just enough to see. Barry swallowed bile. Third degree burns.

“Oh, Kara…”

Barry stood back up as he felt the crackle of lightning in the air and the familiar whoosh of Oliver arriving. Barry looked back and saw the shock and horror in Oliver’s eyes.

“Help me get her down!”

Oliver ran over and carefully wrapped his arms around her waist. Barry reached up and carefully broke the cuffs around her wrists at the hinges, carefully pulling the metal from the pus, blood, and swollen wrists. Oliver caught her with gentle ease and slowly lowered her to the ground. Barry kneeled by her feet and broke the cuffs around her ankles.

“We need to get her to a hospital.”

Oliver looked Barry in the eyes. “You have to take her.”

“What? But you’re faster!”

“And you’re smoother!” Oliver didn’t mean to yell, but he couldn’t stop himself. “And this is your city! We don’t know what they’ve done to her!”

Barry swallowed hard, but nodded, carefully pulling her into his arms. “You’ll come after?”

“Of course. As Oliver. They may not let Superboy stay, but they will let her boyfriend.”

With that, Barry flew her to the hospital, where they immediately rushed her back and cops and doctors came forward to ask him questions. After the appropriate amount of time, Oliver rushed in, only to be pulled off into a room by the cops. Barry pushed himself into the room, daring the cops to try anything. They asked Oliver a thousand questions. Where were you? Who would want to hurt your girlfriend? Did she have any enemies? Did she have any enemies in America? Did you get into an argument? And the dreaded, why didn’t you report her missing?

Oliver stuttered out an answer about her PTSD. How sometimes something triggered her and she would run off, but that they could usually find her pretty quickly. How he thought it was just that. It was a believable lie, considering it did happen from time to time.

With that, Barry made it care the questioning was over, stilling the cops with a simple glare and led Oliver out into a long term waiting room.

“I’m going to go change,” He whispered, leaning in just a little closer than a hero should with a civilian, “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

With that Oliver sat down and he waited.

#fanfiction #Writing Prompts #Karivarry Life Swap AU #Arrow #The Flash #Supergirl #AU #prompt #Karivarry #Life Swap AU

[spencecreates]

An old scene with Anthony. I tried to fix it up a little but it’s still woefully unedited so prepare for mistakes. Also it’s kinda long so that’s fun

Tw: mentions of abuse

“You always did look so pretty all decorated like this.”

Anthony knew that voice well and what it referred to even more so. He didn’t react, swirling his drink around in the glass in his hand. He’d have turned to look at his lover if he’d thought he could. The healing lines down his back and the few on his chest burned too much for him to think of doing much else. Each breath lit his body on fire.

“Oh, Tony, don’t go giving me the silent treatment,” came the same cool voice, accompanied by the man’s choking cologne. Anthony always hated the smell. It was something between pine and what he assumed was the stench of other people’s suffering. He wouldn’t put it past Lester to be able to bottle such an intangible smell. “You know this wouldn’t happen if it didn’t need to. You wanted someone to help control your temper and this is the way.”

Anthony tensed at the hands that came to rest on his shoulders, the added weight doing nothing to help the pain his body already endured. He didn’t respond, bringing up his drink to finish it off. He expected the tightened grip that came with his continued silence, though it didn’t stop the grimace that crossed his features.

“I didn’t mean to be helped like this,” he finally said, voice a soft rasp. He cleared his throat, his voice coming stronger when he spoke again. “I didn’t tell you my past so that you can continue it.”

Lester clicked his tongue and stepped around him to ease himself in the seat across from Anthony. His black eye was prominent against his pallid skin and the bruising had even spread across to the other. Anthony looked away, guilt adding to the anguish he already felt.

“Of course that’s not what you meant,” Lester said and reached forward to grab Anthony’s chin, turning his head sharply so he was forced to look at him. “You wouldn’t know what you’d need, would you? No one does. After all, you’ve tried everything already and look at what your temper did.” He gestured to his black eye. “I know what’s best for you, baby, even if it doesn’t seem that way. You know I love you.”

There was a moment of hesitation and then Anthony slowly nodded, eyes flicking away from Lester. His lover gave a smile and leaned forward to kiss him before letting him go.

“Good,” he said in a voice that set Anthony’s teeth on edge. “Now come on, let’s go to bed, baby. I think we both need some rest.”

He stood, his hand being held out to Anthony. Hesitantly, the larger man took his hand and stood, legs feeling weak as he instinctively brought his arm around Lester’s shoulders to keep himself upright.

Each step towards the room made the feeling of disgust and unrest flare up. He didn’t want to sleep beside Lester that night; he didn’t want to sleep next to him ever. He stopped then, earning a look from his lover. He cleared his throat.

After a moment, he said, “I think I should sleep out here tonight. I’m just gonna be tossin’ and turnin’ anyway and I don’t want to disturb you.

Lester gave a nod. “How thoughtful of you, babe.”

“Goodnight. love you, Les.”

Lester smiled and kissed Anthony’s cheek. Anthony gave a tired smile as he pulled away, watching him go to the room and then moved slowly over to the couch. The pain set in again as he settled onto it, unable to even close his eyes. There’s be no sleep that night but he at least wanted to try.

He stayed on his side, eyes staring unfocused out of the window across from him. He could see the clouds rolling in but he hoped that there wasn’t a storm that came with them. A bit of rain he could handle but not anything else. Not that night. It already resembled enough of those nights he spent in the godforsaken home.

He finally closed his eyes, thinking of this mess he called his life. Lester had picked him up out of the gutter, cleaned him up. He owed him everything. Or at least quite a bit. He sighed and pressed his face into one of the couch pillows, willing himself to sleep.

When he finally did fall asleep after who knew how long, he was plagued with nightmares. The same as the one he’s been having for the past few years. He’s immobile as he stares at Gabriel, eyes wide and trying to scream for him to watch out but nothing comes from his mouth. Though this time he doesn’t get to the end.

“Gabriel!” he shouted, eyes snapping open. He sucked in a breath and then felt someone’s hand holding to his shoulder. Instinctively he slaps the hand away and sits up to get away, instantly wincing as the pain flared up again.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s just me.”

Slowly he’s able to focus on Lester kneeling beside the couch, the man looking half awake and pissed. Anthony took a deep breath and his voice is soft and shaky when he speaks, “S-sorry, Les. I just… it was just a nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Lester nodded and stood up, casting a glare to Anthony.

“Better do something about those or I’ll have to gag you when you sleep so I don’t have to hear this shit,” he said menacingly and Anthony nodded, though he doubted there was anything he could do. He laid back down as Lester went back to the room, mumbling under his breath. Sleep felt even farther away than before.

Not a moment later, he was sobbing. He pressed his face into the pillow to muffle it so he didn’t disturb Lester again. Never in his life had he felt so broken. He had no hope to be whole again, not as the shattered mess he was and certainly not while under Lester’s “care”.

He couldn’t handle this anymore. He needed to do something. Change something.

He took a moment to pull himself together and dry his eyes before standing. He wavered a bit and took a moment to regain his balance as the pain flooded through him once again. He had to grit his teeth and sucked in a deep breath before he finally moved, taking slow shuffling steps from the living room.

His mind whirred to make some sort of plan. He glanced to the room he shared with Lester. Nothing he needed was in there, thank God. Everything important was kept in his truck just in case the police ever got on their case and a way to escape was needed. Then his attention shifted to Lester’s office.

He had money, a lot of it left to him by his parents, but he hated using it. He knew that what he did would have disappointed them with his life. He didn’t want to taint their memory with it. But if he took money from Lester, it was already tainted. Stealing from a criminal wasn’t a bad thing to do. They canceled out, didn’t they?

Anthony sighed and went to the office, to the vault that resided in the hole in the wall behind a picture. As he input the combination, he considered briefly if this was what it was like to have a Bond villain as a partner. As the lock finally clicked, he heard Lester sigh deeply in the doorway.

“I tried to tell myself that you weren’t stealing from me,” Lester said. Anthony was frozen, not moving as he heard Lester’s slow heavy, footsteps move towards him. He swallowed. “After all, you love me, don’t you, Anthony?” Anthony’s chin was gripped tightly and his head was jerked to the side to look at him. “After all, you tell me every night. And my darling little Tony wouldn’t ever lie to me.”

“What do you think,” Anthony said coldly. He fully expected the slap to the face, the force of it making him stagger. He brought his hand up, pressing it to his cheek as he worked his jaw. “…I said what you wanted to hear, Les. Everytime. But I’m done with that.”

“Oh are you? Need I remind you of the new stripes, pet?” Lester asked. “You’re not such a well-behaved dog as you like to think, Tony.”

That was what made Anthony crack.

Lester always stood that way, the way that was supposed to make him seem bigger and taller than he actually was. And it worked. Anthony always let it. He always hunched his shoulders, wanting to be smaller and less of a target. But not this time. He straightened up, standing at the full six feet two inches God had allotted him.

“Not anymore,” he said. Lester went to reply but Anthony didn’t allow him the pleasure. He ignored the painful protesting of his still torn up body to grab the front of Lester’s shirt, yanking him close as he glared down at him. “I’m not your puppet, Les. I’m sick of taking your shit. I’m leaving.”

With that, he shoved him away, watching with satisfaction as he hit the wall with a loud thud! and let out a groan of pain. Anthony took a deep breath and straightened up, pushing his hair from his face. He truly needed a haircut.

“I’m leavin’…” he said, his voice softer, speaking mostly to himself as he convinced himself that was what he had to do. He shook his head and looked at the vault. “Keep your fuckin’ money. I don’t want it anyway.”

He turned to leave but was stopped by Lester’s voice, “I swear to fucking God, Anthony, you go out that door and I will hunt you down like the fucking dog you are.”

Anthony swallowed, the threat sending a chill through him. He’d seen what Lester could do to someone, how he could tear them and their life apart. He hesitated for a moment.

Then Lester stepped closer.

“Did you hear me? I said I’ll hunt you down, you idiotic bastard,” he snapped. Anthony clenched his jaw and turned, his fist connecting with Lester’s jaw hard enough to knock the man down. “Fuck.”

“Do it,” Anthony snarled, standing over Lester. Just that was enough to make him feel bolder. “I see your face again, Les, I’ll shoot that smug grin off.”

Lester stared up at him with hatred burning in his eyes, reaching up to wipe the blood from his face. Anthony took a deep breath and turned.

“I’ve killed men before, Les. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”

Anthony held his breath as he left the small house and then let it out once he stepped through the door. The beat up blue pick up sat in the driveway and his hands shook as he fumbled with the door. He didn’t relax until he was sitting in the driver’s seat, surrounded by the familiar atmosphere of it.

He wasn’t out of the woods just yet, he knew. He likely never would be. Paranoia settled in him as he thought to Lester’s threat to hunt him down. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the steering wheel, his breathing coming fast and shallow. His chest tightened and the suffocating feeling he’d come to expect at times like this settled over him.

No, he couldn’t afford this now. He needed to get away.

It took several moments for him to get a handle on himself and by that time tears were streaming down his face again. He straightened up, wiping his eyes angrily. He hated crying, hated how vulnerable and weak it made him feel.

“Come on, Anthony, you need to go,” he muttered to himself. Finally, he dug the keys out from under the seat and started the car up, pulling away from the house.

He glanced back only once as he drove off, feeling like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Only a moment later was it replaced with the even heavier burden of knowing that Lester would never stop until he found him.

#oc: anthony #my writing

[ohmytheon]

Two Souls (bnha daemon au, 5/7)

title: two souls

summary: There is nothing more special than the bond between a person and their daemon, but some people are inexplicably drawn to other daemons as well. Ochako wants to prove to the world that she and her daemon are capable of becoming heroes while Katsuki and his daemon are ready to take it on. What neither of them counts on is that same world pulling them together, creating a bond stronger than anything thought possible.

notes: This might be my favorite entry of the whole week. At first, I didn't know what to do, but then it hit me and I loved writing it.

Notes on daemons Katsuki Bakugou: Eurasian Wolf - Mako Ochako Uraraka: Asian Golden Cat - Hayato

Day Four: Supernova

There was so much fire, but there was even more smoke, making it difficult to move. Ochako's helmet did little to filter it out and was making it harder to see where she was going. In a fit that she knew a few of her friends would scold her for, she pulled up the visor of her helmet and then held a hand over her nose and mouth. With her face exposed, smoke attacked her senses, but she was at least able to see better.

With that in mind, Ochako continued her search on the floor. So far she'd managed to get twenty-two people with their daemons and six pets out of the burning building. Of course she couldn't touch any of their daemons - it was a taboo even in situations like this - but she'd found out that she could cancel out a daemon's gravity as long as their person was touching them. She didn't know why and didn't question it. All she knew was that she could save people and she had to save more.

By the time she finished her sweep of the top floor, she was coughing. There was no one up here. She was terrified that she had missed someone, but she couldn't waste any more time in here. It would collapse at any minute and she couldn't take the smoke any longer. Before she could find a window though, she heard something burst from the stairwell door down the hallway. When she turned to look in that direction, she was stunned to see Mako shaking off soot and pieces of wood.

"What are you doing?" Ochako demanded as she rushed over to the wolf daemon. "Is Bakugou in there?"

Mako shook her head and grimaced. "No, he's down below. He had to save a few people from the floor below us." Meaning that he hadn't been able to take her down with him. It wasn't an impossible distance for their soul bond, but it was bound to be painful. She was handling it with strength and dignity though. Ochako knew that some daemons would be crying and writhing in pain, not to mention how Bakugou felt. It was hard to use your quirk with your soul so far. "Where's Hayato?"

"Not in the building," Ochako said. "I didn't want to bring him in here."

It stretched their bond to the limit, but she handled it better than most. The distance they could manage with their bond had always been a little longer than normal, but once she had started using her quirk on herself more, they'd had to learn to push it even further.

Despite giving her an incredulous look, Mako didn't comment on it. Instead she turned back from the door that she had burst through. "There's a woman in the stairwell. She won't leave without her suitcase full of photo albums and that thing is damn heavy. Her squirrel daemon freaked out the moment she saw me and won't listen. Idiots."

That had to be the last person in here. Ochako didn't think she could manage anyone else, not with the way she was hacking. She stepped into the stairwell and spotted the woman leaning against a large suitcase and close to falling unconscious from smoke inhalation. Instead of wasting time arguing with her, Ochako used her quirk to lighten the woman and the suitcase and then dragged them to the nearest window. She released them from the quirk and then activated it again so that only a little bit of their weight remained. It had taken her three years to figure that out. With that done, she was able to push them out the window and watched as they slowly floated to the ground.

"Okay, I think that's it." Ochako turned to face Mako. "We can go down the-"

There was a loud crash that forced Ochako to duck and shield her face as the ceiling in front of them crashed. Embers splashed her arms, burning through the thin material of her costume. It stung, but she grit her teeth and dealt with the pain. When she lowered her arms, she could only gape as she saw that the route to the stairs was completely blocked off by burning debris. The way to the stairs was cut off, which meant that there was only one way down.

"You have to get out of here!" Mako exclaimed through coughs. "I'll find another way!"

Ochako turned to Bakugou's daemon, who was crouched low, as if she could somehow get closer to Bakugou. No doubt he was suffering down there as well, but he probably didn't know where his daemon was. This was too far for them. The strain was too much. She could see Mako struggling with the smoke as well. If she was having difficulties, then Bakugou was surely feeling the effects. If something were to happen to her…

There was only one thing to do.

Taking a shallow breath, Ochako lowered herself down onto her knees in front of Mako. "There is another way, but…" The wolf's eyes were bright, glowing through the smoke as the fire around them reflected in it. She wasn't afraid of Mako, not like she had been in the beginning, and maybe she sometimes got closer than normal, but never like this. Their eyes were locked on one another's and while bits of determination and fear could be seen in her eyes, there was also trust. "I won't do it if you don't want me to though."

Mako huffed out air through her nostrils. "No, it's…the best way. I understand. I just thought it would be…different."

"I know - it's not fair - but it's my turn to protect you two." A nervous chuckle slipped out of Ochako and she smiled weakly. "Bakugou is going to be furious with me."

Somehow, despite being a wolf, Mako's face softened. She was more expressive than any daemon she had ever seen. "Trust me, he really won't."

Even though the wolf was comforting her, Ochako still felt nervous as she stood up straight on shaky legs, a scared feeling bubbling in her gut. Despite the fire and smoke surrounding her that screamed at her to hurry, she hesitated when she stretched out a hand and closed her eyes. It couldn't be helped. She was about to do something that she'd never done before - that Mako had never done before - and all of it without Bakugou's permission and away from Hayato. It was unheard of. It was wrong on every level.

It was the only way to save them.

Hold on, Ochako sent along her bond to Hayato.

What are you doing?

In the end, Mako made the decision for them all as she pressed her head into Ochako's hand. An explosion of heat hotter than any fire burst inside of Ochako, so strong that it nearly sent her reeling and she had to put a free hand on the edge of the window in order to keep standing. It wasn't painful though, as much as she'd feared. It was warm and powerful and so overwhelming that she wanted to bask in it forever. It was like standing in the sun after being in the cold for so long. She could feel his confidence, his insecurities, his pride, his fear, his strength…

With Bakugou's soul in her hand, Ochako could feel all the things that made him burn so bright and it made her want to burn with him.

And then, digging her fingers further into Mako's fur - into Bakugou's soul - Ochako jumped out the window and they fell together.

Katsuki had barely managed to carry the two kids out of the burning building before the exit exploded behind him. The children screamed in his arms, clinging to him as he bent down and huddled over them taking the brunt of the heat and explosion for them. Luckily it didn't hit him directly, but it sure as hell wasn't fun, especially when his shoulders and back were peppered with burnt debris. After waiting to see if there was another one, he unfurled his body and set the kids down so they could run to their parents.

When he turned around to assess the damage, his stomach twisted. The way in was gone. He could launch himself back up and get in through a window, but then he'd have to find Mako in time before the building collapsed. Their soul bond would allow them to seek each other out. Whether or not the building would stay standing for long enough was another thing. He could do it. He had to do it.

If something happened to Mako, he would die.

When he took a step forward towards the building though, a frantic voice cut in demanding, "What are you doing, Bakugou?"

Sweeping his head back around, he found Hayato glaring up at him. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Katsuki searched the area, but didn't see Uraraka anywhere. What was her daemon doing without her? Then again, what was he doing without his? They'd been forced to split up and test the full limit of their bond. It was eating away at him, making him think that she was on the top floor. How far had Uraraka parted from Hayato? He knew that she had a longer bond than most. "Where's Uraraka?"

"Still inside searching for civilians," Hayato told him. His voice was confident, but he couldn't hide the way his tail flicked or his whiskers twitched. He was anxious and for good reason. Uraraka was up there and he couldn't get to her. It would've been a lot more convenient had he settled as some sort of bird, but no, she had to have a cat for a soul. "Where's Mako?"

"Doing the same," Katsuki responded gruffly. "That's why I've gotta-"

The overwhelming urge to cough came over him, forcing him to double over with his hands on his knees as he seemingly tried to hack a lung out. By the time he stopped, Hayato was right in front of him, far closer than he'd ever been before. Uraraka was so friendly and warm, but her daemon preferred to keep his distance from even her closest friends, making sure to stay out of reach. Here, at the base of a building on fire, he was close enough for Katsuki to touch without even stretching his arm out.

Katsuki thought to make a sharp comment about it, but a painful tug in his gut sent him down on one knee and a gasp of, "Mako," was ripped out of him.

"You're at your limit," Hayato surmised worriedly. "Stay still."

"I can't," Katsuki ground out. "I have to-"

He could feel her emotions through their bond, as strained as it was. Earlier she'd felt frustrated - at having been forced to separate and maybe from searching for a way out or dealing with a stubborn civilian. Now, despite being trapped in a burning building without him, she wasn't terrified. There was a hint of fear in her, humming like a guitar string being plucked, but mostly there was confidence, trust, and excitement. It was how she felt when they were about to win a hard fight. The exhilaration for something more. He couldn't figure out why she was feeling that now. It didn't make sense for the situation.

What are you doing? Katsuki demanded of her, hoping she could hear him despite their strain on their bond.

Hold on, was all she said.

And then his whole world exploded in a supernova and he had to press both hands to the ground to keep from falling on his face.

Even though his eyes were closed, all he could see was light until it felt as if he'd drowned in it. When he was finally able to come up for air, gasping as he barely held himself up, he felt… Fuck, he felt lighter than air, like he could fly without using his quirk, like he was soaring with no fear of falling. A chill ran down his spine, making him shiver and his fingers dig against the concrete, but it was wholly pleasant. Warmth soon followed, cascading over him, until all he could feel was a sense of comfort. The only way he could describe it was like being pulled into the warmest hug, being promised that he would be protected, and believing it.

When Katsuki managed to glance up, he connected eyes with Hayato, who had frozen in place. There was an indescribable emotion in them. His legs were locked in place, his hair standing on end, and his tail sticking straight up. It was only a few seconds, but looking at Uraraka's daemon now, he felt the strangest sensation to touch him and, even stranger, he actually thought that Hayato wouldn't say no.

"Look!"

Katsuki couldn't have said who had shouted, but he knew where to look as the tight string between him and Mako began to loosen. He raised his eyes and let out a shaky breath the second he spotted her - and Uraraka. The two of them were floating gently back to the ground, Uraraka with her legs raised behind her. But what really caught his eye was the point of contact between the two of them. Uraraka was holding Mako's back with two hands, her fingers dug into the wolf's fur. Just seeing her touch Mako like that made him shiver again. Both his and Hayato's eyes were locked on them until they were touching the ground and Uraraka released them from her quirk.

Uraraka gasped as she pulled her hands away from Mako, as if she hadn't been breathing the whole time, and stumbled backward. She would've fallen on the ground had Katsuki not managed to rush to his feet and catch her by the arms. Her cheeks were redder than normal, but it could've been from being surrounded by fire. She nodded her head, letting him know that she was okay, and he let go of her, albeit reluctantly. After feeling him touch and use her quirk on his soul, he felt compelled to stay close to her.

However, the desire to wrap his arms around Mako and never let go was stronger, and so he did, He staggered over to her and fell to his knees so that he could slide his arms around her neck and bury his face in her fur. She laid her head on his shoulder and pressed it against the side of his neck and face. He didn't cry, despite the fact that every emotion in the universe was crashing over them and through their bond.

You're safe, you're safe, you're safe.

Katsuki honestly couldn't tell which one of them was saying the words, but it didn't matter.

Feeling like they were one again, Katsuki unraveled his arms and leaned back so that he could hold her face and look her in the eyes. There was something strange in them, something bright that he'd never seen before, and he knew right then. He glanced back at Uraraka, who was on the ground, hugging Hayato and close to tears. Nothing would ever be the same.

And he didn't want it to be. Neither of them did.

#ochako uraraka #katsuki bakugou #kacchako #bnha #kacchakopositivityweek #mha #kacchako positivity week #bnha daemon au #daemon au #daemons #kpw #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakuraka #bnha fanfiction #kacchako fanfic #the things of songs

[writingisfancylying]

An old scene with Anthony. I tried to fix it up a little but it’s still woefully unedited so prepare for mistakes. Also it’s kinda long so that’s fun

Tw: mentions of abuse

“You always did look so pretty all decorated like this.”

Anthony knew that voice well and what it referred to even more so. He didn’t react, swirling his drink around in the glass in his hand. He’d have turned to look at his lover if he’d thought he could. The healing lines down his back and the few on his chest burned too much for him to think of doing much else. Each breath lit his body on fire.

“Oh, Tony, don’t go giving me the silent treatment,” came the same cool voice, accompanied by the man’s choking cologne. Anthony always hated the smell. It was something between pine and what he assumed was the stench of other people’s suffering. He wouldn’t put it past Lester to be able to bottle such an intangible smell. “You know this wouldn’t happen if it didn’t need to. You wanted someone to help control your temper and this is the way.”

Anthony tensed at the hands that came to rest on his shoulders, the added weight doing nothing to help the pain his body already endured. He didn’t respond, bringing up his drink to finish it off. He expected the tightened grip that came with his continued silence, though it didn’t stop the grimace that crossed his features.

“I didn’t mean to be helped like this,” he finally said, voice a soft rasp. He cleared his throat, his voice coming stronger when he spoke again. “I didn’t tell you my past so that you can continue it.”

Lester clicked his tongue and stepped around him to ease himself in the seat across from Anthony. His black eye was prominent against his pallid skin and the bruising had even spread across to the other. Anthony looked away, guilt adding to the anguish he already felt.

“Of course that’s not what you meant,” Lester said and reached forward to grab Anthony’s chin, turning his head sharply so he was forced to look at him. “You wouldn’t know what you’d need, would you? No one does. After all, you’ve tried everything already and look at what your temper did.” He gestured to his black eye. “I know what’s best for you, baby, even if it doesn’t seem that way. You know I love you.”

There was a moment of hesitation and then Anthony slowly nodded, eyes flicking away from Lester. His lover gave a smile and leaned forward to kiss him before letting him go.

“Good,” he said in a voice that set Anthony’s teeth on edge. “Now come on, let’s go to bed, baby. I think we both need some rest.”

He stood, his hand being held out to Anthony. Hesitantly, the larger man took his hand and stood, legs feeling weak as he instinctively brought his arm around Lester’s shoulders to keep himself upright.

Each step towards the room made the feeling of disgust and unrest flare up. He didn’t want to sleep beside Lester that night; he didn’t want to sleep next to him ever. He stopped then, earning a look from his lover. He cleared his throat.

After a moment, he said, “I think I should sleep out here tonight. I’m just gonna be tossin’ and turnin’ anyway and I don’t want to disturb you.

Lester gave a nod. “How thoughtful of you, babe.”

“Goodnight. love you, Les.”

Lester smiled and kissed Anthony’s cheek. Anthony gave a tired smile as he pulled away, watching him go to the room and then moved slowly over to the couch. The pain set in again as he settled onto it, unable to even close his eyes. There’s be no sleep that night but he at least wanted to try.

He stayed on his side, eyes staring unfocused out of the window across from him. He could see the clouds rolling in but he hoped that there wasn't a storm that came with them. A bit of rain he could handle but not anything else. Not that night. It already resembled enough of those nights he spent in the godforsaken home.

He finally closed his eyes, thinking of this mess he called his life. Lester had picked him up out of the gutter, cleaned him up. He owed him everything. Or at least quite a bit. He sighed and pressed his face into one of the couch pillows, willing himself to sleep.

When he finally did fall asleep after who knew how long, he was plagued with nightmares. The same as the one he's been having for the past few years. He's immobile as he stares at Gabriel, eyes wide and trying to scream for him to watch out but nothing comes from his mouth. Though this time he doesn't get to the end.

“Gabriel!” he shouted, eyes snapping open. He sucked in a breath and then felt someone's hand holding to his shoulder. Instinctively he slaps the hand away and sits up to get away, instantly wincing as the pain flared up again.

“For fuck’s sake, it's just me.”

Slowly he’s able to focus on Lester kneeling beside the couch, the man looking half awake and pissed. Anthony took a deep breath and his voice is soft and shaky when he speaks, “S-sorry, Les. I just… it was just a nightmare. I didn't mean to wake you.”

Lester nodded and stood up, casting a glare to Anthony.

“Better do something about those or I'll have to gag you when you sleep so I don't have to hear this shit,” he said menacingly and Anthony nodded, though he doubted there was anything he could do. He laid back down as Lester went back to the room, mumbling under his breath. Sleep felt even farther away than before.

Not a moment later, he was sobbing. He pressed his face into the pillow to muffle it so he didn't disturb Lester again. Never in his life had he felt so broken. He had no hope to be whole again, not as the shattered mess he was and certainly not while under Lester’s “care”.

He couldn't handle this anymore. He needed to do something. Change something.

He took a moment to pull himself together and dry his eyes before standing. He wavered a bit and took a moment to regain his balance as the pain flooded through him once again. He had to grit his teeth and sucked in a deep breath before he finally moved, taking slow shuffling steps from the living room.

His mind whirred to make some sort of plan. He glanced to the room he shared with Lester. Nothing he needed was in there, thank God. Everything important was kept in his truck just in case the police ever got on their case and a way to escape was needed. Then his attention shifted to Lester’s office.

He had money, a lot of it left to him by his parents, but he hated using it. He knew that what he did would have disappointed them with his life. He didn’t want to taint their memory with it. But if he took money from Lester, it was already tainted. Stealing from a criminal wasn’t a bad thing to do. They canceled out, didn’t they?

Anthony sighed and went to the office, to the vault that resided in the hole in the wall behind a picture. As he input the combination, he considered briefly if this was what it was like to have a Bond villain as a partner. As the lock finally clicked, he heard Lester sigh deeply in the doorway.

“I tried to tell myself that you weren’t stealing from me,” Lester said. Anthony was frozen, not moving as he heard Lester’s slow heavy, footsteps move towards him. He swallowed. “After all, you love me, don’t you, Anthony?” Anthony’s chin was gripped tightly and his head was jerked to the side to look at him. “After all, you tell me every night. And my darling little Tony wouldn’t ever lie to me.”

“What do you think,” Anthony said coldly. He fully expected the slap to the face, the force of it making him stagger. He brought his hand up, pressing it to his cheek as he worked his jaw. “...I said what you wanted to hear, Les. Everytime. But I’m done with that.”

“Oh are you? Need I remind you of the new stripes, pet?” Lester asked. “You’re not such a well-behaved dog as you like to think, Tony.”

That was what made Anthony crack.

Lester always stood that way, the way that was supposed to make him seem bigger and taller than he actually was. And it worked. Anthony always let it. He always hunched his shoulders, wanting to be smaller and less of a target. But not this time. He straightened up, standing at the full six feet two inches God had allotted him.

“Not anymore,” he said. Lester went to reply but Anthony didn’t allow him the pleasure. He ignored the painful protesting of his still torn up body to grab the front of Lester’s shirt, yanking him close as he glared down at him. “I’m not your puppet, Les. I’m sick of taking your shit. I’m leaving.”

With that, he shoved him away, watching with satisfaction as he hit the wall with a loud thud! and let out a groan of pain. Anthony took a deep breath and straightened up, pushing his hair from his face. He truly needed a haircut.

“I’m leavin’…” he said, his voice softer, speaking mostly to himself as he convinced himself that was what he had to do. He shook his head and looked at the vault. “Keep your fuckin’ money. I don’t want it anyway.”

He turned to leave but was stopped by Lester’s voice, “I swear to fucking God, Anthony, you go out that door and I will hunt you down like the fucking dog you are.”

Anthony swallowed, the threat sending a chill through him. He’d seen what Lester could do to someone, how he could tear them and their life apart. He hesitated for a moment.

Then Lester stepped closer.

“Did you hear me? I said I’ll hunt you down, you idiotic bastard,” he snapped. Anthony clenched his jaw and turned, his fist connecting with Lester’s jaw hard enough to knock the man down. “Fuck.”

“Do it,” Anthony snarled, standing over Lester. Just that was enough to make him feel bolder. “I see your face again, Les, I’ll shoot that smug grin off.”

Lester stared up at him with hatred burning in his eyes, reaching up to wipe the blood from his face. Anthony took a deep breath and turned.

“I’ve killed men before, Les. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”

Anthony held his breath as he left the small house and then let it out once he stepped through the door. The beat up blue pick up sat in the driveway and his hands shook as he fumbled with the door. He didn’t relax until he was sitting in the driver’s seat, surrounded by the familiar atmosphere of it.

He wasn’t out of the woods just yet, he knew. He likely never would be. Paranoia settled in him as he thought to Lester’s threat to hunt him down. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the steering wheel, his breathing coming fast and shallow. His chest tightened and the suffocating feeling he’d come to expect at times like this settled over him.

No, he couldn’t afford this now. He needed to get away.

It took several moments for him to get a handle on himself and by that time tears were streaming down his face again. He straightened up, wiping his eyes angrily. He hated crying, hated how vulnerable and weak it made him feel.

“Come on, Anthony, you need to go,” he muttered to himself. Finally, he dug the keys out from under the seat and started the car up, pulling away from the house.

He glanced back only once as he drove off, feeling like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Only a moment later was it replaced with the even heavier burden of knowing that Lester would never stop until he found him.

#anthony #my writing