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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years

Note

So! What about the god ok switch-a-roo? The pillarmen are now human and their s/os are pillarmen!

I interpreted this request as body swapping (similar to what we see in a much later part of JoJo) and I hope this is what you meant, my dear Anon! 🙏❤🥰

If not and you meant for me to write this in another way, I am SO sorry I misinterpreted the request and I sincerely hope you still enjoy this nonetheless! 😅😇

Body swapping with the Pillarmen! 😱 🔁

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• Ending up in your body will piss Kars off more than anything really.

• Don't get him wrong, he loves you with all his heart; it's just that he's a man who is rather comfortable in his superiority and status over your race.

• He had worked VERY hard to get himself where he wanted to be afterall...

• Suddenly being reduced to a mere Human is enough to make his (er... your) stomach turn.

• Kars' new "limitations" in your body however didn't stop him from working out how this happened and, more importantly, how to UNDO it ASAP.

• When you happen to come to in Kars' body, the feeling is unsettling and strange to say the least.

• Piloting not only a Pillarmans body but Ultimate lifeform's as well will take you some getting used to for sure.

• For one thing, you'll come to find his hair gets in the way of EVERYTHING.

• If the wind blows or if you happen to turn sharply it's suddenly in your (well... his, but you get the idea) mouth or sticking in your eyes or just plain in your face!

• You can't understand how he stands it at all!

• There's no time for you to ask him to teach you how to wrap it up like he does either to remedy the issue so you have to grin and bear it.

• On the other hand, even the slightest jump in your emotions makes his arm blades spring forth!

• You almost ended up accidentally stabbing Kars (while he was in your body) as a result of getting worked up over the whole matter.

• Kars could only watch you floundering about in his body, frowning and shaking your human head as he told you repeatedly to keep calm and they'll stay put.

• As if you could keep level-headed at all in this situation as it was.

• On the upside ot things however... you learn some interesting things about Kars.

• "...Wait." you paused, peering down at the muscular legs beneath you; your eyes bore into Kars' boots with a critical gaze. There was something cushy sitting just below the heel on the inside.

• "Do you... have cloth wedged into your boots?" A sangria eyebrow raised, ruby eyes falling onto Kars.

• You watched as the features of your own face shifted dramatically, mouth falling open, scandalized. "I--" he began, but your voice fell short as he couldn't find anything to say in defense.

• "Do you do this to make yourself look taller?" A wheeze rose up in the Pillarman's chest, rich barking laughter ringing out as you doubled over in laughter.

• You suddenly came to the realization that you had never once seen Kars without his boots off, the pumps at the very bottom of the boots gave him a little boost as it was but on the inside it quite literally felt like you were wearing a pair of high heels.

• You were starting to wonder just how tall Kars really was. Hell, you were starting to wonder if he even passed Santana in height without these boots on!

• Your laughter fell short as a familiar, much smaller, hand reached up and grabbed your new body by the scarf. You were hauled down to meet the burning and intense gaze of your own eyes, Kars snarling right up into his own face.

• Jeeze, had your face always looked that red when you got angry before?

• "If you speak of this to ANYONE, I will spill each and every one of your own secrets to the others," he growled lowly, giving your voice an uncharacteristically harsh and grating tone. "Am I clear?"

• It took all you had inside not to call him "shortie" once things were finally back to the way they were and you both settled back into your own bodies.

• Despite your curiosity, your question on his exact height would never get answered.

• Kars knew how to put those arm blades to use better than you of course...

Esidisi:

• Oh boy... you have to be VERY careful piloting this one.

• And I mean the absolute definition of careful!

• When your consciousness ends up transfered into Esidisi's body, its no surprise that you feel very warm and fuzzy on the inside.

• It's almost a feeling akin to when you sit just a little too long in a bath that's a little too hot.

• Strangely, it was actually kind of a comforting feeling amongst this whole ordeal.

• However, if you're not careful with your emotions (warm and fuzzy feeling or not) than you might just accidentally end up burning a hole right through the Earth!

• Or worse... end up spraying scalding hot blood and flaying fleshy veins dripping with the stuff in all directions.

• Your core temperature has to constantly be monitored or you'll pay the price.

• It seems like even if you unfocus for one singular second, the Pillarman's entire body starts to smolder like a cake burning in an oven!

• Esidisi, on the other hand, is actually quite enjoying being in your body.

• He's having a much better time than you are for sure. In fact, he's laughing like this is nothing more than a game to him!

• You'll have to keep your eyes on him because he can't keep his (or rather, your) hands off your body.

• "Esidisi!" You barked, the Pillarman's voice was like the clap of thunder as it raised in octave; clearing the air with its power and inevitably startling you (again) even though you were the one wielding it. "Get your hands out of there, right now!"

• Your command was met with laughter, you watched as a wide grin stretched across your own face as Esidisi pried your hands off of your behind (for the 3rd time) and tucked them neatly into your pockets as he continued to giggle to himself.

• "I wasn't doing anything~" he purred, making your voice sound uncannily like a bad child playing innocent, acting wasn't just caught squeezing your cake.

• He was being to curious for his own good.

• That and the fact that he's taking enjoyment out of little ordinary Human things while piloting your body

• Things like feeling actual pain when skin is pinched or when hair is pulled seemed like it could entertain him for hours on end.

• If you don't keep a close eye on him and his shenanigans, you might just end up getting your body back all banged and bruised up if he goes too far with his fun.

• Fair enough, as he might just get his back half-burned into the ground or covered in blood...

Wamuu:

• Wamuu straight up does NOT have a good time dealing with suddenly being Human.

• The fact that it's your body he's in doesn't help that any either.

• 12/10 would NOT do again. 0 STARS!

• Wamuu, always a composed and calculating Warrior and tactician, was now in full panic mode.

• All his life he carried himself with pride, building his little ego off all his strengths and victories because of his status and his incredible unmatchable power.

• Now, with all of that ripped away from him, the Warrior felt too vulnerable and naked for his liking in this Human form.

• "Ow! OW!!!" Wamuu cried, eyes wide as your hands flew to your back. "Why does it hurt there? Do you always have pain like this?" Came the question, it was more than strange (and a little unsettling) to hear your own voice asking you that so desperately.

• "You get used to it." You replied, the deepness of the Pillarman's voice sending deep vibrations through the hardened chest as you spoke.

• "Why-- Why does this body feel so sluggish? I feel so inexplicably weary..." "I know. You get used to that too." "WHY IS EVERYTHING SORE?! WHY IS EVERYTHING CREAKING?!" "It's fine. That's normal."

• On the other hand, your mind suddenly being swapped into Wamuu's body isn't quite as bad as being in the others but... there are still some things to get used to.

• For one thing, it was hard to get used to simply walking around in it.

• Wamuu was so immensely big, muscular and heavy that you felt as if you were shaking the Earth with each step, causing you to lumber and stumble around with no grace to speak of.

• For another, a wirlwind just seemed to follow you wherever you went. It was honestly harder to control than it looked!

• When you wanted it to move one way, it went another. Wind blew up, wind blew down.

• You found yourself standing around, massive hands flying to the loincloth in an attempt to keep it from flinging up and showing too much.

• You wanted to spare least a shred of Wamuu's lost dignity while he wasn't piloting his own body after all.

• His horn is an entirely different matter.

• At one point the breeze blew too strong and the Pillarmen's signature headpiece suddenly flew right off his head and then... out sprang the horn.

• It shot 18 feet into the air, skewering two trees and drilling right through them like an overcharged power drill; a terrifying whir filling the air as chunks of wood flayed in every direction.

• The entire time you screamed in terror (you had no idea Wamuu's voice could go so high until that moment), slicing through an entire plot of trees as Wamuu yelled for you to put it away before it went for something breathing... like your own body that he was currently inhabiting.

• In the end, the relief you both feel to be back in your own bodies once the entire mess is fixed is immeasurable.

• You also both agree to never speak of the experience again for as long as you live.

Santana:

• Much like Kars, Santana is more unimpressed about the whole thing rather than upset or worried.

• Apart from you of course, Santana just barely tolerated Humans (or Primitives as he liked to call them) as it was.

• He often spoke about how fragile and flawed your kind was, honestly the defenselessness of a Human was laughable in his eyes.

• Therefore, he absolutely does NOT like suddenly being reduced to one, even if it is your body.

• The entire time he's practically pouting, the very definition of apathetic, grumbling to himself and following close behind as you tried to chase down the person responsible for the swap.

• "This form is... limiting." Came the low growl, each word sounding so very unlike you despite the fact it was your voice he was using. Santana practically spat as he kept talking, "Flawed. Primal. Defenseless."

• You were handling things admittedly better than Santana but it was still more than overwhelming.

• For one thing, you'll come to find that Santana's senses are extremely heightened.

• You never realized how very unbelieveably strong a sense of smell, taste and hearing could be until now.

• You could smell animals that had passed through the area nearly a fortnight ago just by putting your nose to the air. You could hear the thumping of your own heart from where it sat back in your own chest as Santana followed close at your heels.

• For another thing... Santana's body felt... odd.

• It was a strange and indescribable feeling; it was best put as you felt like a substance that constantly balanced between solid and liquid.

• How on Earth could he stand being a living mass of puddy and sharp deadly bones all the time?!

• As Santana kept grumbling about how very imperfect his new form was, your only hope was to give him that huge bag of gummy bears you had been saving in your bag for later to snack on.

• It would give you a moment of silence to think straight. However, if Santana was himself that would've been a good idea but in this case... not so much.

• "What's wrong?" You questioned, the Pillarman's gravely voice holding a different tone than you were used to as you used it, studying him.

• Santana had suddenly stopped following and was now slumped over, clutching at your stomach. A low whine surfaced, almost a sob, as he spoke through clenched teeth.

• "Do.... not.... feel..... good." Came the whimper. You came rushing to his side, your temorary body dwarfing your real one as you pulled Santana close to see if he had somehow gotten hurt.

• "What--" the question fell short as you spied the now very empty bag of gummy bears laying nearby.

• That bag had been huge, filled to the brim with bright and colourful gushy candy... and Santana had eaten ALL of them.

• It was that day that Santana found out that a Humans biggest flaw was that too much sugar made them sick.

• Good luck with enjoying getting your body back when the time comes as you now suspected you would spend your time kneeled over a bucket with a hot water bottle instead of celebrating...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #pillarmen headcanons #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #anon ask #my writing

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Note

Hi hi! I saw your post asking for request/inspiration! Maybe Geralt x fem reader, and geralt has to hunt down a monster but the reader as well, so first they try to outsmart the other but eventually they realize they have to work together and they end up falling for each other? ❤️❤️

Bound By Blood - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader - Part 1

side note- I have no self control and just kept writing so we’re gonna have a pt. 2 soon

Summary: Geralt has learned of a mysterious witch and her supposed vicious familiar, now he must hunt to bring them down for their crimes.

Warning: blood & gore, angst, bit o fluff, some smut sprinkled in the mix

It had been a good couple of weeks since his last kill, or since he had a solid amount of coin that could pay for food and board. So like any Witcher with a freshly sharpened sword and a thirst for coin with a little adventure included, Geralt was on the move, in search of his next monster to slay.

Though by the looks of it, the continent is starting to feel like a much larger place then he remembered, or perhaps he’s out in the wilds a bit further then once previously thought. Either way, the day is bright and the woods are green, although the occasional snowflake floating into his hair and Roach’s for that matter may become an annoyance later on. Guess he’ll just have to see where the road takes him this time.

No sooner would his swimming thoughts of wondrous curiosity be answered after a couple hours of traveling through the now very snow covered forest, where he would happen upon a small gathering of road worn travelers. All of whom appeared to be speaking over a small fire, their horses tied off close by. And most likely, weapons hidden at the ready for odd folk like himself.

Roach’s hooves are almost silent against the powdery white fluff as Geralt makes his way into view of this pack of loyal companions trying to have a meal in the midst of their camp before nightfall. Soon their eyes find Roach and himself, these strangers look on in cautious apprehension, wary and uncertain of what this Witcher’s true intentions are.

Suddenly a young foxy looking boy stands, his thick auburn hair falling in his face as he points a shaky steel knife in the air, “What business you have? We don’t want a fight.” Speaks the boy as confidently as he can muster, though there is a small waver in his voice. The others wait for an answer.

Geralt blinks, face unassuming and as relatively non-threatening as possible, “I’m just passing through, I’m trying to see what beast needs killed over the next hill.”

The boy lowers his knife, “Oh...well, good luck to you then. There’s been a great bear said to be hunting for Nilfgaard soldiers over that way, that’s why we’re headed west instead.”

Before Geralt is able to respond an older woman with a wolf rug over her back steps next to the boy protectively, “Best keep a move on Witcher,” She warns, eyeing him up suspiciously with her pale grey eyes, “said a woman with...unnatural powers commands the beast to kill for her. A witch of the wood it’s said, but that old bastard she has, been killing villagers and travelers alike who venture too far from town.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mutters Geralt before directing Roach to continue onward with a click of his tongue.

——

They had never seen you coming, and now they’re paying for their lack of scouting with their pathetic little lives. The soldiers of Nilfgaard were said to be the most deadly and dangerous, men who came with fire in their hearts and steel in their hands. They feared nothing and no one, dressed in black armor and growing in numbers from the south everyday was enough to make you feel sick.

They had no right nor proper business claiming and desecrating what wasn’t there’s, how dare they hurt innocent people, they acted like true barbarians. And you would not put up with it any longer, they had burned your home, murdered your mother, and destroyed the rest of your village.

So for their crimes, you decided it was time to do what was necessary for the continents future survival, it was time to hunt. For months have you and your furry companion been here and there eradicating soldier camp after soldier camp with great satisfaction, now finally at long last have you tracked down a group of Nilfgaardians who’ve strayed too far from the main hoard. How unfortunate.

You had waited patiently to ambush them on the main road where they’d been trekking down for the past day and a half, it was too damn easy, all you did was pretend to be a hurt scared maiden in the woods. Then when they attempted to comfort you, your bear burst forth from the underbrush and slaughtered a handful before they even knew what hit them.

Now here you stand, boots in the spattered snow as you look around the blood stained white blanket of earth where a multitude of soldiers lay dead and mutilated. Though one remains with air still in his lungs, you smirk a wicked grin, eyeing up the fallen soldier as he stares wide eyed up at you from his broken body against a tree stump.

Your furry accomplice breaths heavy mountainous breaths close by, though he’s aware enough to know you’ll take care of the last one. And the terrified soldier knows it too as you take more steps closer. He flinches as you crouch down to meet his blood spattered face, “Nu-no, no...do-don’t...”

“Shhh.” You smile, raising a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly.

He’s shaking now, eyes like a young fearful child’s as he studies your beautiful yet frightening appearance. “I thought all Nilfgaardian soldiers feared nothing, not even death. What a disappointment you all are.”

“We will...ta-take it....a-all...” He whimpers out as you throw him a harsh glare that shuts his bloody mouth.

“Just like I have taken your brothers lives,” You whisper with a sly grin before casually shrugging, “an eye for an eye they say....so don’t be afraid, I have felt the same as you do right now. Helpless, terrified, in pain....but listen...” You look sincerely into his broken gaze, a small smile upon your lips as you rest a comforting hand over his arm, though he knows its anything but comfort. “Nilfgaard and all her subjects can burn in the fiery pits of the underworld for what they’ve chosen to do in these lands. I was on the wrong side of the sword once, now you are, and no magical bear is going to come save you.” Your words are as deadly as poison, like a cobra spitting venom to their prey before the final strike.

His eyes go wide, blood seeping down his cracked lips, “No. No..n-no no! No!” Suddenly you thrust your dagger right through his jugular and right back out again causing a spurt of blood to mark your cheek, standing back you watch as he gasps and sputters, choking on his own blood as it gushes out of him like a waterfall.

“He even dies like a bitch.” You mutter in disgust, cleaning off your sword with your arm before sheathing it once again, now looking over to the beast standing in the snow. Heavy white clouds of hot breath pierce the crisp air as he watches your every move in interest, “Come. Let’s get away from here before someone sees us, we don’t need anymore bloodshed today. Now these fuckers are food for crows.”

The bear growls in agreeance, trailing after you as some hungry black ravens caw from the trees in excitement for their new free meal. No village will burn today.

——

“Oh yes, I saw her command the bear to kill those soldiers just three days ago!”

“That beast took my son last week, kill them Witcher!”

“I’m afraid to visit my cousins in the next town over! You must kill them!”

That had been the comments and ramblings of the townsfolk of the local tavern when he asked who and where this witch and her bear was. Though he didn’t get much of a solid answer by any means, not until an old hunter had eventually directed him to where the most recent cluster of Nilfgaard soldiers had headed.

Stating that if Geralt follows their route, then he would most likely come upon the men’s remains somewhere along the road, and if he was lucky, he’d run into the two killers as well.

Indeed it had taken him about a day or so, but eventually the farther down the trail he got, the fresher the tracks became. Suddenly during his journey did he pass a rider-less horse on its way back towards town, a dark brown smear of some kind splattered across its grey leg. Now this looked quite promising.

Only a small trot up the road did he finally find the brutal remains of the soldiers that had most definitely not made it to wherever they had planned on heading. The snow in particular was disturbed and littered with chunks of men, swords thrown about and shields bent and broken. He could smell blood and piss from the men, most of all he could smell bear and what it had done here, though it was strange too. For a sweeter scent could be recognized on the cool wintery breeze, such a viable contrast to the current state of the environment.

She still lingers close, thinks the Witcher. Quickly moving to pull out his silver sword from within its sheath. Sensing a new presence among the fallen, he whips around in a dark blur only to be greeted face to face with a beautiful woman.

He stood his ground eyeing your form suspiciously like a lion wondering if his prey will be easy enough to kill, though he wasn’t certain if he truly wanted to kill you at all. You looked rather unassuming and calm, less monsterly and more a simple traveling woman then anything else, such unlike the grisly tall tales that those travelers and townsfolk had gossiped to him about.

Honestly Geralt was beginning to doubt what he had been given coin for, but he would not submit to that thought just yet, he has faced creatures just as alluring as you and found them quite deadly enough.

Keeping his silver placed firmly at his side, though still tightly grasped in his strong hand, his golden eyes trail over you cautiously, “You do this?” He wonders, coming out more of an accusatory statement as he glances at the bloody array of dead Nilfgaardian soldiers gutted about on the soft white snow.

Your breaths are steady though you feel more annoyed by his random intrusion then anything else, you only came back here to take their weapons to give to the villagers, “I have no quarrel with you, Witcher.” Your voice is truthful and fierce, not an ounce of nervousness radiating off of your tongue. As far as you’re concerned this man is nothing but an inconvenience.

He keeps a stoic face, not revealing much but a tinge of amusement in his shimmering eyes, “Strange then. I’ve been given coin to kill a dangerous sorceress and her enchanted bear. Fitting your description exactly, and here we are. Among the dead soldiers you’ve been claimed to murder.”

Scoffing you curtly fold your arms over your chest, “I hardly see a problem here when these fuckers have slaughtered countless innocents! They’re marching for the north and I do not doubt they’ll get it if people like me don’t try and lessen their numbers.”

He looks to the ground then back up to you, letting out a low frustrated sigh, “Your beast has killed villagers. Innocents.” His words are almost a slap in the face, but you know those people only got in the way of taking down these soldiers.

“Yes.” You nod, watching as he studies your face, “And it is a tragedy that I am greatly sorry for...but my companion is still an animal with his own will even when I give him a task. A bear is a bear, Witcher.”

He hums, “I understand that. But I cannot let you kill anyone else.”

Taking a single step back you quickly unfold your arms, alerting the Witcher to raise his sword though you show no intention of fighting him. His grey brows furrow as you shake your head, “You’re better off leaving us be. Those soldiers deserved what they got coming to them, and the people of this continent will thank us in due time. For they do not know the wrath and ruin that Nilfgaard is capable of.”

He watches as you take a couple more steps backwards towards the pine trees, your face serious and unflinching even when he takes a few steps towards you. “I kill monsters, witch. You’re no different.”

Now this does anger you, for that your eyes almost appear to darken with rage, your posture taller as you stare him down, “You are nothing but a blind fool who cannot see the bigger picture! So I won’t feel very bad about this..”

“About what?”

He watches as you take a step to the side, ignoring him when suddenly without warning does a ginormous brown bear charge from out of the evergreens, teeth and claws at the ready as they swing for his throat.

Geralt just barely dodges the huge furry bastard when a blundering paw races down for his arm, he twists away and out of the bears reach though his sword does catch the thick black pad of the bears left paw. It roars in pain, face a mask of rage as it turns towards Geralt with lighting reflexes.

Suddenly the bear swings a heavy paw directly into Geralt’s leather armored chest, knocking the wind out of him while also managing to thrust him blindly into a thick oak tree. All that the Witcher can glimpse before slipping into blissful unconsciousness is the wounded beast retreating into the woods while your silhouetted form begins walking towards him.

Then darkness.

——

When Geralt comes to he’s distressed to find his armor gone and his torso bare except for a thick white bandage wrapped around his shoulder and chest where the bear swatted at him with its large paw. The fabric is oddly soft, though a slight pink uneven line has seeped out now visible across his breasts, no doubt the area where that bear had gotten him.

His big golden irises blink hard, focusing better now to unexpectedly find your smirking face as you walk into view, “Have a pleasant rest?” You muse, sitting down in a soft cushioned chair at his bedside, “My old friend gave you a run for your coin huh?”

Well this is odd, he thinks.

His brows furrow even deeper, though his chest hurts too much to attempt an escape, “I would have imagined you were going to kill me. I don’t understand...”

Chuckling lightly you smile, “Remember Witcher, I have no quarrel with you. Just those fucking soldiers....and don’t worry, my companion will not bring you any more harm unless I see to it.”

“Well...uh...I guess that’s good then.” Mutters the Witcher, begrudgingly scooting himself up so that he may rest against the wooden headboard and have a better view of the small room, “Where exactly are we?”

Looking around the cozy cabin you’ve decided to inhabit for the time being, your eyes finally rest back on the curious silver haired man, “Somewhere that was once vacant and now is livable. That is all I will say, and all that matters to you now....so, my pursuer who’d see me dead if not for my cleverness. If you are going to be in my care for however long it takes you to heal, what is your name?” You watch as the Witcher purses his lips together, pausing for a moment to think if he should tell you, “Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.” He reveals in that titular gruff voice of his that’s honestly starting to grow on you even in the brief time you’ve known him.

Handing him a small smile of acknowledgement, you nod, “And I am Y/N of Stygga in the land of Ebbing which is north of Nilfgaard...so, Geralt of Rivia....what brings you to Thurn of all places and into my care? Besides the fact that my companion almost ended your pretty life.” You end with a wiggle of your brow.

“Coin.” He mutters humorously, so he is not just a man of silent beautifully chiseled stone after all.

You hum, “Simple and straight to the point, are all Witcher’s as intriguing as you are?”

Geralt blinks slowly, deciding to rest his head against the wood as he looks forward, “Perhaps only the ones who want to survive.”

Laughing you lean back in your seat, “Flattery and humor may yet keep you alive then. But you are mistaken with me, I do not intend to keep you as a prisoner in any way if that’s what you are meaning. You are free to go back to wherever you came from or to wherever you’re going....as I said, I have no quarrel with you. Witcher.” You speak his name with a bit of attitude considering he did originally come to kill you, nonetheless you quite enjoy his presence.

The look he gives you is enough to make you chuckle once more, then his eyes glance back to you, causing your laughter to die down, though he’s surprised that your smile has prevailed. “Then why have you kept me alive when you could have ended me just as quickly?” He wonders.

You shrug, “The world is scarce of such creatures like yourself, Witcher’s hmm...monster hunters. Others will need you, and this world is big after all and full of terrible things.” You add, hugging your cloak tighter as you tilt your head at him, “so I’d assume after you heal up you’ll leave me and my companion be as long as I agree to keep away from towns. Yes.”

“Hmm.” He utters, brows furrowed as he thinks over your offer.

The Witcher keeps silent as his face shifts into deep thought, huffing you roll your eyes, “Geralt are free to leave if you so choose. I give you my word if you give me yours.”

“Which is?”

“You let me and my familiar leave in peace and we let you live.”

He studies your face for a moment, trying to find any signs of falseness though he fails to spot it, “Fine.” Grumbles the handsome silver haired man.

You smile in accomplishment before a slightly awkward silence fills the room, deciding to break the tension you tap the arm of your chair, “Are you going to leave then? Right now?”

He keeps silent for some time as you patiently await his answer until finally he looks into your eyes, “No.”

“Huh.” You slowly nod, not quite expecting that answer, “...are you thirsty then? You were out for some time.”

“Yes.” Answers Geralt, simple and straight to the point.

Smiling you nod, standing now to fetch your new friend some water from outside, once you return with a metal cup do you hand him the cold liquid, his warm hand just barley touching yours. Sending shivers down your spine that you didn’t know was possible as you go back to sit next to him. “Those wounds should heal soon enough, I’ve heard Witcher’s heal fast. Is there any truth to that?”

His golden eyes trail over to you, not a hint of annoyance in the way that he looks to you now, “It would seem so. Hopefully I never have another run in with your friend anytime soon. Though I wouldn’t mind running into you again, hopefully under less bloody circumstances.” Admits Geralt with the ghost of a smile.

You chuckle, “As would I.”

——

In the following days would you and Geralt find comfort in one another’s presence as you helped him heal from his wounds. This Witcher had told you numerous stories about his adventures all over the continent and what beasts have been slain by his hand and sharp silver.

They were undoubtedly fascinating though surprisingly full of such vigor and even respect for the ones he’s been given coin to kill. It was pleasant when he spoke of all those who he had prevented from meeting an untimely and violent end from said monsters.

Even more so bewildering to you was how invested and intrigued you had become with each passing day, you actually woke up excited to see someone, to hear their voice and have them ask how your morning was.

Unbeknownst to you, Geralt had healed two days ago but had come to the fascinating conclusion that he was in-fact enjoying your company more then first realized. He loves listening to you boast about all the clever tricks you’ve pulled on the Nilfgaardians and how you’ve kept them away from the villagers who would most like want nothing to do with them.

Maybe it is the palpable truth that he has been indeed a bit lonely, or maybe it’s just that you tell the best stories and are unlike anyone he’s ever met before. But Geralt has begun to grow a deep fondness for you that cannot be fully explained by himself no matter how hard he may try.

Though at first he found you beautiful enough, that wasn’t a large concern considering he was there to kill you. Then once all was revealed he decided you really aren’t as evil and malevolent as what was spoken to him by the townsfolk.

Now, he has seen you, heard your voice and been given a kindness that he knows is something he shouldn’t deserve. But he cannot fully know if you share the same growing feelings, why would you? He came to kill, he came to end your beautiful life and for what, gold? No, you mean something now, you are someone to him now, a person that he can’t help but care for. And maybe even love, that is if he knew what that truly felt like, is this it?

But what of you?

You’d be a filthy liar if you said this Witcher didn’t tug at your heart strings like he does so freely without even knowing it. He has wonderfully taken you off guard with his hidden tenderness and rough voice that you’ve decided is one of the most alluring sounds you’ve ever heard.

His eyes catch in the light like two shimmering golden coins, the way he asks you for a drink or a piece of bread sends electricity through you. How pathetic, you think, however it is rather nice. And most of all, his body is truly something else, you’ve never seen a man so toned and full of scars. How lucky you were to take his shirt off and keep his wounds from bleeding out, and in those hours after, he looked rather peaceful as he slept.

If only you could have joined him, felt his touch, been the one who he wanted more then the bread you’ve given him. But he is just a Witcher, he will leave and life will presume as it had been before either of you had met. He’ll become just another lost tragedy of your past, another loved one gone, never to be seen again.

He is just a Witcher you fool.

You frown now, your gaze focused on the small hearth as you sit by the fire, poking it with a metal stick as your thoughts drift to better days long gone, taken so suddenly and without so much as a sorry from who did it.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes stare vacantly into the beautifully glowing embers, you hear nothing but the sparks of flame crackling on wood.

“Y/N.”

A whisper perhaps, you can’t tell, you’re so lost into your own head at this point nothing but the fire matters to you.

Without warning a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder causing you to jump and drop the metal stick onto the stone fireplace with a loud clatter. Your eyes dart for the one who touches you as your heart beats heavily inside your chest.

Instead of a petty thief come to slay you, is the soft comforting eyes of Geralt, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Apologizes the Witcher as he sits down next to you, offering half of his huge warm blanket.

You oblige without a second thought and let him drape it over your back while he then scoots closer so that your crossed knee is touching his. You give him the flash of a sad smile before drifting your dreary gaze back to the glowing hearth.

“Thank you for sharing, winter is cold after all and this cabin isn’t the most insulated of places.” You add, a low drone in your voice much unlike your usual lively self that he’s grown to love.

Furrowing his grey brows, Geralt studies your half illuminated face in the firelight, the only real source of light since the sun has gone down hours ago. “I figured you needed the company, and a blanket. I can almost of see my breath.” He says with a small chuckle though you barley acknowledge his very presence.

“Y/N?” He whispers, nudging your leg with his, “I haven’t spoken of it before but if I may ask, what happened to your hand?”

You look down to your left hand opposite of where Geralt is sitting, you hide it from the light though it is covered with a white cloth and your long sleeves. He is very observant isn’t he?

“Nothing important. I got it when fighting those damn soldiers before I saw you. It’s almost all healed up.” You whisper, “No need to think about it anymore.”

The room stays silent for another couple minutes before he finally speaks once again in that low gruff voice of his, “What troubles you?” He asks much to your surprise, maybe he is too observant for his own good.

“Many things.” You mutter quietly, turning your face to find his concerned gaze, a small smile on your lips to lessen his doubts, “Don’t worry my dear Witcher, you’re not one of them. And I’d rather not give you my burdens, they are not a fun little adventure like the ones you’ve told me about.”

“Neither are all of mine.” He speaks truthfully, staring deep into your saddened eyes, “I would be honored to comfort you of such miseries if you still want me near after.”

You look to the floor, biting your lip at this almost intimate news even if he only means to speak words of ease to you. Why not? What is there to lose if you tell him why you feel so full of melancholy.

Raising your eyes back up to his, you take a deep heavy sigh before looking back into the fire, “I had a good life. I really did, I had a mother and a brother. But that was all taken from me when those bastards plundered and beat their way into my peoples lands. Looting and killing as they went, what could I do huh...my family was in their way.” You admit with a hidden rage that just about causes the flames to glow brighter.

“They came into our village and began to burn everything they could, they ran into houses and stole away valuables untouched by the desolation yet. They took and killed my neighbors and friends, women and children, screaming infants.”

You pause for a moment, eyes welled up with unshed tears as you find your voice, “They burst through our door and pulled us three from our house before we could even react. Then those fuckers killed the only person who ever showed me true kindness and love, she didn’t deserve to die that way Geralt, she didn’t. Then again none of them did.”

“I can’t imagine.” Whispers Geralt sincerely, understanding how much it pains you to speak of your mother like this.

“For that,” You seethe out darkly, “I killed my first soldier that day, but of course they didn’t like that, not at all. Soon they held me down and beat me bloody like I was a fucking dog, if it wasn’t for my brother who stopped them. I’d be dead, he saved my life that day, helped me escape and I never looked back.” You swallow thickly as a lone tear slides down your cheek, “I haven’t seen him since, and I dare not think of how he met his end. It just fills me with rage and then...as you can see, I get like this.”

“Best not to linger in the darkness for too long.” Admits Geralt, his eyes truthful and honest as he takes you all in, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Breaking out into a crooked smile you blink more tears away as he moves an inch closer, “I already feel gone some days. I’m not a good person Geralt, I’m dangerous.” Your voice his raspy and soft now as the feel of the room appears to take a shift somewhere you’re not so sure of. Dangerous? Y/N he has no idea.

The Witcher’s lips curl into a pleasant smile as his face keeps mere inches from your own, “I like dangerous.” Whispers Geralt before his plush lips pull you into a new world of warmth and fire. He moves against your mouth, taking his time as the two of you find a comfortable rhythm. Well, this is nice.

He tastes as sweet as the apples you gave him for dinner and all the better to draw you away from your darkness as he showers you in his intoxicating light. You can’t believe how gentle and passionate he feels against you now and it’s only his lips!

You could stay like this forever but soon enough he pulls away, resting a calloused hand against your knee, “Forgive me I should have asked.”

“Don’t be a fool, I was thinking it too. And anyways you kept your word.”

“Did I?” Wonders Geralt, brows furrowed in confusion.

You smirk, “Remember? You said you’d comfort me of my miseries? Are you still planning on doing that...just a simple question really you don’t have to look so lost.”

Breaking out of his frumpled gaze he finally gives you a handsome smile, “How could I forget?”

“Well it was pretty traumatic so.” You deadpan with a dark humored snort before Geralt leans in to capture your lips once more.

The next morning you wake from the warm comfort of the cabins large single bed, an equally as warm arm covering half your face as you feel a large body pressed firmly against your side. Your hair lays free and unkept around your face as well, and you already know your naked underneath this soft blanket and snoozing man next to you.

His breaths are slow as he stirs in his slumber, pulling you in even closer as his arm now finds itself against your one free breast. You giggle quietly at the situation, how awkward it would be if someone was to burst forth from those doors and find you both in the nude like this. Ha, let them try.

Apparently you’re not as subtle as you’d thought, Geralt awakens before sucking in a deep breath as he stirs slightly, suddenly freezing in place once he realizes his hand is practically squeezing your boob.

You chuckle, moving your hand to keep it there, “You’re surprisingly a cuddlier, who would have thought?” You jest humorously.

“Uh....yes.” Mutters Geralt awkwardly as you smile, though he can’t see it.

Noticing his change of behavior you realize he doesn’t really know what to do about your boldness so you help him out by shifting yourself to face him. “With how well you were treating me last night I would have thought my breast would feel quite nice in your hand. Have I misinterpreted?”

He smiles, a small dusting of pink finding its way onto his chiseled features, “I find it important to respect you first Y/N, this is still...new.”

Biting your lip you lean in close to place a gentle kiss against his soft lips, “I enjoy your touch, you’re something that I believe I’ve been missing for a long while. Maybe we were meant to find each other and you not kill me.”

He chuckles a sweet sound that fills you with pure joy, “And you to heal me, I don’t feel much pain anymore.”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you graze your hand down his face and arm, “I healed you enough about six days ago, I know you were just milking it since.”

“No I wasn’t...”

“Oh shut it, I think it was a clever idea to get in my pants if that was your plan.”

He fake scoffs, “That wasn’t the plan Y/N.”

“Then what was the plan? Oh wait,” You move yourself even closer to him, lips just barely touching, “Witcher’s don’t have plans, they just flatter and hope for the best.”

His strong arm holds you close as you rest your hand on his shoulder, “Maybe so.” Whispers Geralt before pressing his lips to yours.

Soon enough you find yourself pinned down to the bed, a very hot and visibly happy Geralt deep inside you as you try and keep yourself from screaming to loud. You can’t help how big and beautiful and so very large he is, and anyways he looks like a man on the edge of paradise. Who are you to deprive your new lover of his high?

Geralt does admittedly feel blessed against you if you’re being completely honest, the way he thrusts deeply into your womanhood like a man deprived of such pleasantries, or maybe the way your name falls onto his sweet lips when he feels his weakest. You can’t tell for sure, but he may be in love with just as much as you are with him and that is a promising thought. Or is it?

With an almost whiny moan do you finally come, the pleasure built up after such a ride releasing at long last. Sending a wave of euphoria throughout your entire vessel causing your slick walls to clench around Geralt’s hard cock as he continues to relentlessly pump into you.

Soon you can feel a hot warmness pooling into you as your Witcher grunts in satisfaction while his length twitches inside you, painting your walls with his seed like the skilled artist that he is.

Hovering just above your sweaty and very naked form does he smile kindly before leaning down to capture your swollen lips with his own. He bucks his hips into you a couple times more as he enjoys the feeling of making you squirm underneath him. Completely surrendering all that you are to him, though he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t doing the same with you.

Laying flush against you, his body still between your sore legs he pulls away from your pouting lips to lean his arms against your face. Soon another kiss is stolen, then another and another as he gently presses his lips to your cheek. Then jaw, where he decides to stay and attack for awhile which causes you to chuckle at his adorable-ness.

“You need new clothes.” You practically moan as he playfully bites your jaw, kissing that spot just as quickly.

“It’s warm in here.” Mutters Geralt against your hot skin, “Nothing is as interesting as you.”

You bite back another moan, “We need food.”

He smirks against your neck, rolling his hips to try and sway your mind, “But you’re delicious enough Y/N.” Oh this man.

Breathing heavily you do your best to fight off your growing arousal, “Geralt.” You warn through clenched teeth, hands leaving red marks down his back as you playfully threaten him.

He kisses your cheek once more as a sly hand squeezes your firm breast, “Fine. Let me make love to you first then we can go.” States Geralt against your lips as he suddenly gives you three deep slow thrusts that send you into another realm of pleasure.

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #henry cavill #geralt x y/n

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bunny-hoodlum · 3 years

Text

Asynchronous With You: Chapter 2

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (maybe mature later)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

When Naruto and his playdate make it back to his place, there are no shoes in the genkan. He's got the apartment to himself just as promised.

He's starting to get nervous when he takes off his shoes and she bounds across the corridor, heading towards the living room.

A brow perks up as he follows after her and she's sitting prettily on the sofa, with her hand on the remote.

He walks up behind her and perches his elbows beside her head as she finds the program she was looking for.

One of those intense dramas with controlling parents and an abusive ex-boyfriend. Naruto dropped his head with a sigh. This is not what he thought was going to happen.

At the sound of her patting the spot beside her, he reluctantly agrees and plops down with his arms crossed and his spine limp. Already bored.

"I'm obsessed with these, so you're going to have to bear with it," she said almost seductively, like a Mistress withholding his reward after a bout of slow torture.

Suddenly the front door goes ker-chunk. A shock runs up his back and his arms tense around his middle. Head turned towards the entryway, he stares in disbelief as Hinata pads across the corridor. She nearly enters. The kitchen is behind them after all. But she freezes as his panicked expression and ducks down around the corner.

Naruto raises up, saying "I'm gonna take a piss."

"If you're escaping, I'm leaving."

"I'll be back, for real. I'll watch your show with you. But I really gotta leak," He hurried off and sharply rounded the right corner. He grabbed Hinata by her shoulders and hurried her down the corridor, hiding her behind his larger frame. They made it back to her room where he closed the door behind them. And then he looked up at Hinata's winded expression. "Thought you'd be at Cram."

"I,I was about to make us dinner," her voice shook breathlessly. His eyes dropped down to the grocery bags in both her hands. He could make out an extensive category of cup ramen brands and flavors through the semi-transparent plastic. The shape of the other bag was tented, a case of eggs weighing it down. "I didn't think you'd be happy with curry udon."

"I wasn't," He crossed her room, closing the space between them and he took the bag of ramen of from her. He eyed the goodies inside. Some favorites, some unknowns. Triple X Crawfish flavor? Carbonara? Squid Ink? He was already beginning to forget both his guest and his libido in favor the buffet right before him.

"I thought we could try them together." She bit her lip. Her with her hand free, she began to finger and twist the hem of her skirt. An action that was perilously similar to the vision he had when he imagined her in her panties.

The cloth-wringing was a subtle shift from her finger-poking days, but it was a tell nonetheless.

It must've put her off to find out there was a stranger home, even if he was the one that brought her in. She's still not very good around new people, and he thinks perhaps that pretty girls intimidate her too, (with special exceptions held out for Ino and Sakura). He literally just brought the enemy into her territory.

What to do, what to do?

Did it seem like he had a choice anymore? No way he could still get lucky with Hinata home.

Naruto grimaced as he did the only thing he could do. "Well, she said if I don't watch her show with her, she'll leave."

Hinata's shoulders visibly relaxed. They exchanged lopsided smiles as they hovered in the silence.

Taste-testing cup ramen with his foster sister. His mouth stretched wider at the notion, contentment and gratitude deepening a little further in his heart.

When was the last time they hung out together, anyways?

They passed the time talking like they used to do, only pausing when a rather violent ker-chunk rattled down the corridor.

Naruto grimaced as that girl's dual nature became more apparent to him. Kind of like someone he used to have a crush on.

Naruto stood up and reached his hand out to Hinata, grinning widely, teeth gleaming. "I think you might've saved me this time, Hinata."

____________________________

As they sampled and slurped each new flavor over dinner, sharing bites and commenting at which ones they liked best, Naruto remembered the one thing that's been weighing in the back of his mind. He remembered, because he was having fun, and there might come a day when he can't have fun with her like this.

"Where're you going for high school?" he asked.

Hinata slurped up the two noodles hanging daintily from her chopsticks before she put the cup down, her expression thoughtful. "Kurenai-san can't afford to give me the same education that she gave Neji, so my options are limited."

"What? That's not fair."

Hinata replied with a shrug and a smile. "It's not really fair on her, either. She just happened to be our next-door neighbor when it happened. She didn't have to take us in. And if she never knew us and what we were going through, she never would have. You could say we were lucky and she was unlucky--"

"If she really felt that way, then you wouldn't still be here and Neji wouldn't have seen graduation. The way you're thinking of it is completely wrong."

"Did you wish I hadn't come home?"

Naruto pulled back. "Huh?"

"Spending time with her may have been boring, but you were looking forward to something else. You can have the things you want when you don't have to share."

How did the conversation devolve like this? Where was all of this coming from?

"Hinata... Wherever you go, I'm going to go with you," As he said that, her head perked up, her wet eyes took him all in. "I think so, anyway. Everyone's staying here, so, I think I'd miss them a whole lot. I mean, making new friends is great and all, but I got a good thing going here. What about you?"

A chill inhabited her features, like she had just locked herself away in order to face him.

"I don't know."

"Aren't you in two clubs now that you're not deputy class rep anymore? What was it, bug-catching and dog grooming?"

Two interests that couldn't be more unrelated if it weren't for the fact that it was Hinata who was interested. She had that motherly nature about her. She loved to take care of things. Just like she chose to do now for him.

Hinata nodded lamely.

He slouched in chair, one arm draped over the back as he sighed in resignation. He wanted to hear words from her, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen. He glanced in her direction and his dismay edged further into disappointment.

She kind of looked like Neji right now. Like back when him and Neji were bitter and small. Hinata looked like a blizzard raging inside a snow globe.

He has to stick close to her, make sure she's alright at all times. But right now, he was failing. Right now, he couldn't see what was attacking her.

AN: Oof, short-ass chapter. 1200 words. 😅 Felt like a good jumping off point though, I think it'd be good if the next chapter were from Hinata's perspective. I think I'll definitely combine this chapter and the first one into a single chapter for AO3 and FFN when this is all done.

btw I hate doing summaries. I always feel like I'll end up writing something completely different, rendering it all lies. Lies, I say! 😲

#naruhina fanfiction #naruhina #asynchronous with you fanfiction #chapter 2 #foster sibling au

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myelocin · 3 years

Text

tomato sauce for hello, and mornings for i love you

synopsis: “you are the who, love is the what, and this is the why.”

genre: fluff | wc: 2,300+

characters: konoha akinori

this is why i need you | jesse ruben

a/n: HALLOW??? HALLOWWW?????? @gg9183 MY ANGEL MY LOVE HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO U we will ignore the fact that i am late i meant to post this yst but my laptop updated and i didnt save a fat chunk of this LOL. (speech aside) i love you. konoha loves u. i’m in this corner of the world blowing a candle for u and cheering u on always. happy birthday my best girl <3

It’s a good day to love you today.

Konoha’s up by seven, then at the grocery store by seven forty-five. A quick breakfast in the car: just a bottle of orange juice and a bag of chips that he just knows you’ll scold him for.

Pick up the balloons after heading to the bakery, then finding a way to somehow sneak all of what he has prepared in the house before you wake up. He smiles, delighting in the thought of another year with you.

Three birthdays together, a little apartment situated close to the city, and a multitude of inside jokes that would piss off Bokuto on the days he feels excluded. You snicker with him when he whispers his commentary towards you in the theaters, and he’ll do the same when you critique how the popcorn tastes that day.

There’s a lot of unknowns that balance what keeps the joy afloat, he thinks. He doesn’t know what to say when calling the doctor for his yearly checkup, and he doesn’t know how to counter the what-if scenarios the two of you usually talk about.

Sitting in his car, he chuckles. The rush hour of the morning borders unforgivable today, and while he could have sat still in his car, grumbling about the inconvenience, he settles for huffing towards it instead—defining factors like that as one of the inevitables in life.

So he thinks of you.

He left the house a little before sunrise, with you still asleep in bed. On the left side, wrapped in 75% of the blankets, with the plush cradled in between your arms. Some days he regrets winning that for you. While you said the expression on the hamster’s face mirrors his when he’s coming home from a rough day at work, it’s also the same plush that’s usually sandwiched in-between the two of you every time he tries to hold you at night.

Some days it’s like that, but today, he’s thankful it’s there to keep you company while he’s out here.

He’s always heard about the things people do for love, and while in the beginning he was never one to believe in its influence, as he catches a glimpse of himself on the rearview mirror, he laughs. There’s at least ten paper bags from the grocery store—all of which are meant just for breakfast, and a box with the god-awful hot pink wrapping paper he couldn’t have changed at the very last minute.

It’ll have to make do, he supposes. Slip ups happen sometimes, and in love, perfection is only a far-fetched dream.

In youth, love is make believe. Love is the ice cream truck that passed by his street every afternoon, and the coins his mother would leave out on the kitchen table for him just enough to treat himself. Love is the stories and the idea that he’d find a hand to hold and squeeze tight, even if all the boys in class would roll their eyes and stay away from the cooties.

Love is good.

Then as it stays good, love becomes great.

He learns of that the second he turned twenty and met you on aisle three of the grocery store at 2 in the morning. Pyjama bottoms, hair in a bun, and you’re squinting at the labels—trying to decide whether to get chocolate or vanilla for the frosting.

He said his hello then, because love at that time was also the three second push that came into his life as a show of brevity.

Konoha eases off the brakes, letting the car roll for a good couple of meters before slowly coming into a stop again—the traffic still present.

With a sigh, he resorts to tapping on the steering wheel and reliving through the memories again. He had no game then, he realizes. He approached you with half of the pickup line he plucked from reddit jumbled up as he said it, and he had a tomato sauce stain on his shirt.

Now that he thinks about it, he looked a little sleazy.

But the world has its ways of redefining what it means to be perfect, he supposes. What happened after was you turned your head, two tubs of frosting on either of your hands, and a smile already cracking its way through the prior confusion on your face.

And shit, he remembers, that’s all it took for him to realize that perhaps this is what they mean about the great that comes with the redefinition of love.

From then, you became a fixture of his every day. Three years since tomato sauce stains and your icing dilemma, he still learns more and more about you, finding home and falling in love as the days go by.

So today is a good day to love you.

Your third birthday you’re celebrating with him, and he’s in his car crawling his way through the traffic with a jar of tomato sauce and two kinds of canned icing in the paperbags in the back seat just to commemorate the first hello.

Tapping his finger against the steering wheel, he smiles. There’s a comfort in knowing that you’re headed home. Back to you, back to love.

He hopes that god awful plush is keeping you warm, Konoha thinks with a smile. Then with a laugh, he steps his foot off the brakes again, the world letting what’s there flow as motion comes once more and eases him into the road that brings him closer to you.

An hour later, he’s trudging up the stairs.

To be fair, in the parking lot he did try to think of at least a speech to present to you. Perhaps the classic ‘I love you, babe. Happy birthday,’ followed by a suave look, a bouquet of flowers, and breakfast in bed. He smirks, knowing even though blunt sentimentality has never been you nor his’ style when it comes to communication, you always had a soft spot for the moments where he did remind you that his love will always have the intention to stay.

Staring infront of the door, all it takes to put himself together is a deep breath, an honest smile, and just like that, he’s good to go.

Cake in hand and the strings to the balloon pinched in between his fingers, he nudges the door open, trying to be quiet as he cranes his neck and listens for noise inside the house. Delighting in the silence, he makes his way in, careful so he doesn’t disturb the peace.

Mornings have always been easy with you.

You wake up around the same time as he does, and breakfast is always shared at a table for two. Easy conversation, sleepy smiles, and little chuckles sprinkled before the beginning of the day is kickstarted.

Konoha smiles. There’s a cake with a smiley face iced in the center and a bouquet with all your favorite blooms in tow. A whole lot of love is the product of the bits built one on top of the other from the everyday that remains his—though it’s as much as yours too.

There’s love found in home, three years shown within, and the subtle promise of a lifetime in the presence that stays.

“You know,” a voice jolts him. Konoha, wide eyed, turns towards the kitchen, quickly spotting you.

You’re sat in your usual spot by the window, a bowl of cereal in front of you, and his hoodie wrapped around your frame. You smirk at him, spoon in hand, eyes to him. “If you’re going to surprise me, you could have probably pulled it off if you didn’t have a whole concert in the shower.”

His tongue pokes his cheek, the red on his face displayed in full colors because of how bright the morning is. “Last night you said you were sleeping in, so I figured you’d be knocked the fuck out till 10 or something.”

“That was the plan,” you laugh, shifting your eyes back down to your breakfast and scooping up a bite.

You hear a huff, then when you turn to him, you smile again. Konoha’s standing a little awkwardly in the middle of the living room now. His Donald Duck house slippers on, and his socks aren’t even matching. On top of the paper bags on the table, he’s still trying his hand at balancing the cake, bouquet, and strings from the balloon in his hand.

He’s looking at anywhere but towards you.

Laughing softly under your breath, you throw him a lifeline. “Want me to turn around and have you clean up your entrance so that I can pretend to be surprised when you say happy birthday?”

When you look back up, he’s already made it halfway across the living room, just now stepping into the kitchen to plop down on the seat in front of you. Puffing his cheeks, he sets the boxes down on the clear end of the table and leans forward. Meeting him halfway, you smile as he presses a quick kiss on your temple.

In laughter, he eases into love. “Happy birthday,” he smiles.

Smiling along with him, you hold out the spoonful you meant to give to yourself in offering towards him. “Morning.”

Even though he’s a little disappointed he couldn’t pull off the surprise, the smile on his face is still cheeky when he faces you. Mornings are easy, he thinks again, because love is.

“I can still cook for you,” he offers, taking the fork from your hand and reaching in the bowl to pick at the bits of fruit instead of the actual cereal.

You quirk a brow in his direction. “By that do you mean you’ll just plate the takeout you got and hide the boxes so you can tell me you cooked for me?”

“Will that impress you?” Konoha laughs, the smile on his face easy.

“Depends,” you shrug. “What kinda takeout did you get?” Peering into the boxes he tries to shield with his body, he eventually moves away with a laugh when you swat him on the shoulder and poke him to the side. “Was anything even open this early?”

He points the fork with the slice of strawberry in your direction, his face smug. “I ordered in advance.”

Narrowing your eyes, you lean forward and take a bite, laughing when he gives you a look for biting the piece you don’t doubt he’s been eyeing for a while now.

You snort, recalling the memory of him hunched over the desk the other night, shooing you away everytime you’d enter the room. “Tell me you didn’t bother that poor auntie at 11 in the evening just for this?”

He looks away, eyes closed. “I’m a resourceful man.”

“She’s in her sixties and 11 is probably three hours past her bedtime!” you laugh.

Konoha looks at you anyway, smiling. “But are you happy I got you your pastries?”

Eyeing the box, it doesn’t take much for love to resettle into peace again, your joy quickly mirroring his. “You drove all the way there for me?”

“Always for you,” he responds, like it’s the most obvious thing.

You reach forward and pinch his cheek, finding love in the silly bits of him too. “But you always complain about how annoying it is to drive this early in the morning. I know rush hour’s a bitch,” you try to reason.

He shakes his head. “I know. But it’s your day.”

“You drove there last week too when I was craving,” you mutter. Konoha crosses his arms one over the other, and leans his head against it down on the table. Looking through his lashes and up at you, he beams. “That’s because I love you.”

Poking through a bigger piece of fruit from your bowl, you bring the fork towards him, until it’s just barely poking at his lips. “You know, you’re really sweet when you’re decided.”

Accepting the strawberry, Konoha suppresses a chuckle. “I’m always decided when it comes to you, what do you mean?”

Shrugging, you sift through the contents of your bowl, looking for more slices of fruit. You’ll add more next time, you note in the back of your mind. He smiled more when he ate the strawberries instead of the initial blueberry.

“I also got tomato sauce and icing,” he admits, tilting his head to the paper bags still on the coffee table in the living room. “To commemorate hello.”

“So you’re a poet now, I see,” you tease.

“I can be a lot of things in this life.”

You tilt your head. “Like?”

“I’ll tell you once I think about more things that impress you the most.”

You smile. “Just be Akinori.”

He smiles again, love written along the peace in his expression. “Deal.”

“It’s nice to be loved,” you tell him, eyeing the bouquet with the blooms and the cake with the smiley face peeking through the window of the box.

“Because I love you, that’s why,” he replies.

Morning is easy.

A table for two, light conversation, and a history lived and loved even though silence tends to resettle in the room from time to time. Memory relished through love and the flow of the day nurturing enough for him to delight in the moment and feel at ease because this is the kind of love that’s meant to stay kind for a lifetime.

“Happy birthday,” he smiles, and when you look at him, he thanks his lucky stars for that three second rush of brevity that pushed him to begin love with a hello.

ily always <3

#gray <33

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thanksjro · 3 years

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More Than Meets the Eye #32 - Nobody’s Ever Actually Dead in Comic Books

Our band of merry guys-who-weren’t-on-the-Lost-Light-in-issue-#1 approach the shattered husk of the Lost Light, in a gruesome scene that is only slightly marred by the graphic design.

Font doesn’t really suggest danger, does it? Here, for comparison, is something I slapped together in fifteen minutes (including recreation of background) using a font I got off a free font site.

Now, one could say that my version is rather derivative, flat, and arguably cliche, but you know what else it is? Appropriate for the fucking mood of having found a destroyed, hemorrhaging ship after everyone you knew disappeared.

I’m available, IDW! Hit me up.

Theorizing that this is the ship that the Coffin Rodimus came from- remember that? It was a few issues ago- the gang flies in for a closer look. The ship blood is actually something called quantum foam, which allows for quantum space travel to happen. It’s not supposed to be outside of the quantum quills, but the ship’s pretty junked up, so it is.

Because the ship is so very full of holes, the gang can set down for repairs pretty easy. They land in Swerve’s, finding it in less-than-pristine condition. They also find evidence of Crosscut having gotten creative, as a poster for the play he was working on is hung up in the room. Considering he was still writing it when he disappeared, this might seem a bit odd. But then you remember that this is a ship from the future, and it stops being so odd.

Because this is a future ship, with evidence that Crosscut did some stuff, it stands to reason that, at some point, everyone is going to come back from being disappeared.

Just to die.

Which is a bummer, but one crisis at a time.

Megatron disembarks the Rod Pod, with Ravage following, and everyone is just a touch put off by the duo. Everyone but Nautica, who proceeds to commit a microaggression.

Nautica, that’s Soundwave’s father you’re petting like a common animal.

Ravage, angered by this over-familiarity, swats at her. Skids questions letting an active Decepticon roam around, but Megatron brushes off these concerns, saying that finding any still-living crew members is more important. With that, the search begins.

The gang splits up to look for clues, despite Riptide thinking this is a horrible idea. They’re on the clock for this one- the quantum foam is liable to explode if it touches anything, and there’s an awful lot of the stuff floating around right now.

Nightbeat and Nautica leave the rest of the group to their own work, seeing as Nautica has the most appropriate alt-mode for traversing the gaps in the ship.

Man, that’s pretty cool. Wish Nautica hadn’t been regulated to being “girl best friend” for her character arcs, I would have loved to see her do some neat stuff for her own development. Guess that’s what happens when you get introduced as main cast late, and have to compete with all the faves who had dozens of issues to be established and who also don’t have to deal with the whole “token girl character” thing.

The rest of the gang- Megatron, Ravage, Riptide, Skids, and Getaway- start looking in the area they’re already in. Seems a little lopsided, but whatever.

Ravage finds someone almost immediately, identifying Ultra Magnus through smell alone. Only, it isn’t just Ultra Magnus.

The Magnus armor lays not terribly far away, having had its hands cut off to prevent the recall signal from being activated before being gut-murdered.

Gut-murdered wiTH A FUSION CANNON, MEGATRON

Of course, Megatron was forced to destroy his fusion canon after it was decided he would be joining the Lost Light, but you can buy these things off the black market like it’s nothing. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Brainstorm had a few stashed in his lab.

As it currently stands, nobody can trust the guy who has a storied past of killing Autobots, on a future ship where the only folks who could stop him are dead. Megatron, at least, has the good sense to not argue this fact, and suggests that the boys lock both Ravage and himself up until they suss out exactly what happened.

Meanwhile, over with Nautica and Nightbeat, we run through all the weird shit that’s happened in the last day or so.

Nautica, you’ve been on this ship for months now. How did you miss the fact that the only couple within 800 miles got annihilated by way of Phase Sixer? I feel like that attack might have come up at some point.

Since they’re on the subject of spouses, Nightbeat asks Nautica if she’s married, or if she has friends. Though noting that such a direct line of questioning might get him slapped with someone else, Nautica reveals that she is single, though she does have a best friend. Nightbeat is also single, probably because he pulls shit like this.

While this conversation is going on, Nautica uses her Sonic Screwdriver wrench to open a door with the literal push of a button. Brainstorm tricked out her wrench so hard it turned into a magic wand, which is good, because they’re going to need all the help they can get now that space is literally warping around them thanks to the quantum foam.

Nautica kicks something on the elevator, and that something turns out to be Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase. Too bad Swerve is gone, he was so invested in what it contained. Luckily, Nightbeat is just as interested.

Back over on the other side of the ship, it seems as though Megatron kept his word about not resisting, as both he and Ravage have been locked in a cabinet. Wonder how that’s going for them.

Oh, better than I expected.

Ravage is fucking pissed that Megatron joined the Autobots, thereby turning his back on everyone who supported his cause during the last four million years. Despite this grievous betrayal though, the Decepticons haven’t stopped moving. Turns out, Galvatron’s in charge now.

But only if Autobot Megatron isn’t some sort of ploy.

It’s at this point that we learn just why Ravage is here to begin with- to see if Megatron’s truly given up the Decepticons, and if he has, to murder him. But first he’d like to know why this is happening.

Megatron views himself as a monster, having perpetuated a war that ended the lives of billions, destroyed the Cybertronian way of life, ostracized his race from the rest of the universe, and killing just to have something to do. He doesn’t like feeling this way about himself, so he decided to walk away from that life by joining the other team.

Don’t think it’s quite that easy to do, but okay.

Ravage isn’t so sure that this change of heart is going to stick, still convinced that Megatron will snap back to his old self with just a bit more time. Problem is, Megatron may not have a ton of that resource left.

Didn’t they build that body in like an hour so you wouldn’t die? Yeah, no wonder it feels as ill-fitting as a twenty-dollar suit. Thing’s probably made out of pig iron and duct tape.

The lights come on before further self-reflection can be done, and the duo realize that they’ve had guests this whole time.

Someone put the kettle on.

Obviously some fucked up shit happened on this ship. Megatron isn’t so sure that it’s him who did these dirty deeds, however, as he reaches into Ratchet’s mouth and pulls out his brain. Which feels like something that doesn’t really absolve one of guilt, but okay.

Also, ew.

Back with Nautica and Nightbeat, things are getting weird.

Now, this sequence might seem confusing at first blush, but this is because the laws of reality are collapsing around them. Going by clues in the background, we can find the proper, linear progression of time, and thus is conversation. This is what is actually happening:

With the mystery of Brainstorm’s briefcase eluding us once again, we move on to see more graphic aftermaths of violence. Poor Tailgate has been nailed to the wall with a chunk of a metal beam that’s almost as big as he is. The mood lighting for this scene is gorgeous, but I’ve hit my limit for exposing y’all to gore for this issue, so you’ll just have to trust me on this one. Then they find something even more interesting.

Who’s ready for Under Cold Blue Stars… 2!

Back over on the opposite side of the ship, Riptide’s found something nasty. It’s a bunch of dead bodies!

Including, uh, Pipes.

Who already died a while ago.

Hm.

All the bodies in this room are in their alts, and it looks like they’ve all been shot and drilled into, for some reason. Skids brings up that he had a friend who could identify the placement of any robot’s brain module just by knowing what they turned into. Then he reaches into a corpse to see what the drill-hole’s all about. It makes him sick, though maybe not for the reason you might think. He gets on the phone with Nightbeat, who’s called to tell them that they’ve found Overlord.

Still locked in his weird body harness.

And decapitated.

Megatron is on the other line, calling because he’s figured out the same thing Skids has. Someone paid a visit to this ship. Someone nasty.

The gang regroups, and Nautica gets the basics on the DJD, because I guess nobody’s mentioned them even in passing in the last six months, either.

God, what do they even talk about on this ship? Certainly not their feelings.

The reason that one room was filled with alt-modes was because of Tarn’s addiction to transforming; t-cogs are easier to remove when they’ve been used recently.

We get a quick 4/5ths-page gore-fest, then it’s back to making it all about Megatron.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you FUCKING DEFECTED, YOU POOL NOODLE.

Nightbeat’s beginning to put two and two together. There’s an Overlord in the basement. That shouldn’t be, because Overlord got exploded by Chromedome when he mercy-killed Rewind. Something is off about the past of this ship.

Before he can establish his MTMTE everybody-lives-but-then-dies AU though, the quantum foam fucks with the ship. These sons of guns need to get the hell out of here, pronto.

Oh god, what now?

Ravage smells someone inside the Magnus armor, someone who isn’t a part of the usual nesting doll lineup. Megatron reaches into the Crackerjack box and pulls out one hell of a prize.

HE LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVES

Chromedome would be so thrilled, if he still existed.

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #slaughterhouse #issue 32 #maccadam #Hannzreads #incoming analysis #text post #long post #comic script writing

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angelicmark · 4 years

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pairing: sniper!renjun x runaway!reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff?

warnings: gun use, fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, sad

wc: 7.5k

summary: he’s a sniper, you’re a runaway. how could that possibly work?

➣ apart of the narcissistic lovers series

↳ masterlist

eyes closed. focus.

the air was heavy, almost hard to breathe as you stood, listening at every angle you could. you could feel someone watching you, everyone was watching for you but this presence was different. you could almost taste them. you smile softly to yourself, eyes still shut lightly. you lick your lips, the air being different and a lot cooler on your skin sitting on top of a roof. that’s when you hear it, the click and trigger you were waiting for. your smile grows as you turn your head in the direction of the person chasing you down. they hold a gun in their hands, a sniper to be exact. the second they look into the scope, they back away slightly as they see you looking directly into it. you wave a little, your teeth showing in a bright smile.

“got you,” you whisper to yourself with gritted teeth. this was a play of power and money. everyone wanted your head chopped off or with a bullet in the back of it. did everyone really think you were that careless to let your guard down? they couldn’t be that stupid. your raise your glasses, “zoom in, vera.” immediately, your glasses react to your demand and you get a close, lovely look of your rival.

he was beautiful. his hair was fluffy and his eyes were piercing right through you, dark under the soft glow of the streetlight. all black clothes, as predicted, and black gloves covering his hands. he had an innocent look on his face, and you were almost uncertain he was the one out to get you, but seeing the sniper in his hands and being caught red-handed makes all the difference. he was going to kill you. well, was.

you sigh, taking off the glasses and tilting your head with the same smile from earlier. you won’t forget that pretty face for awhile, how sad the two of you couldn’t have met on other circumstances. you would have loved to have him beneath you, or maybe even above you in bed. you shake your head, chuckling to yourself. how sad.

you decide to let him live, opting for a quick smile as you run off. he gapes at how fast you move, trying to gain strength inside his body to just.. shoot you. get the job done. the reward was high, he wouldn’t have to worry about another bill ever again. and yet, he chose to let you run. he watched as you left, seeing the way your smile charmed the way through his head. he cursed, how could he let that happen? he has never once missed, let alone let anyone run off like that.

he’ll get you, next time for sure.

you were exhausted. with a large price over your head, you couldn’t exactly go out and enjoy your day to a nice meal and a walk in the park. you had to either steal your food, or dress in overly heavy clothes. you sigh, taking a bite of your nicely heated noodles. at least you had ramen when all else failed. you didn’t have friends, considering they were all after you, too. but, you guessed that was just common sense. you would probably want the money, too. especially in these circumstances. but no one knew what they were fighting for. they just saw you as a price tag they deeply wanted to steal.

you had a specific hide out, opting to stay there only some nights in case someone discovered you. this was one of those nights. it wasn’t the easiest spot to sleep, nor the warmest. but it was the safest. you smile to yourself as you blow on your ramen, taking a large bite. people were so gullible when it came to a large chunk of money. you were honestly surprised you weren’t killed yet, but you were once an assassin too. and you were damn good at it, too. nothing went over your head that easily. and you were grateful for it.

finishing up, you clean away the mess you had made. the air had a chilling bite to it, but you were lucky enough to have some heavy blankets just in case. you look out your small window, the space being very limited. a part of you wished for a normal life outside of this one. but, who would you be without all of this? you couldn’t imagine it. not one bit.

stretching, you smirk a bit. another day of running around had you tired out, but never tired enough. you made sure of it. if you did end up getting way too tired, you always slept uneasily. nightmare after nightmare, hour after hour. when it came to sleeping deeply, you would always wake up in a fearish sweat, checking the clock with shaky eyes and a trembling body. you had your downfalls, too. you weren’t perfect, far from it. nightmares were definitely one of them.

but you get to sleep easy that night, another day awaiting you and begging to come sooner. what a relief.

you huff out a breath of air, anger seeping through your teeth. you were normally calm, quiet, easy to the heart. but you were honestly pissed off at this point. you knew your circumstances, but if these idiots don’t piss off soon, they were going to be killed first before they even got to lay a hand on you.

“piss off!” you yell, and there’s a snarl in your voice. you weren’t like this. no, not one bit. you breathe in a deep refreshing breath of air. you need to calm down. when you open your eyes again, you’re met with a different pair of glowering eyes. you raise an eyebrow, “and who might you be?”

“not going to matter once you’re dead,” he tilts his head, a smile creeping on his pretty face.

then it dawns on you. he was the man from that one night, fluffy black hair dude. you smile, you just couldn’t help yourself, “aw, why not?” you pout, this was too fun for you.

he feels his chest tighten at the look in your eyes, “you really don’t care, do you?” he shows his sniper, the head of the gun resting on the ground as he leans on it slightly.

“or i know you’re not going to kill me,” you place your hands behind your back, your hands creeping into your satchel and baring a knife. “but, yeah, i kind of don’t care.” you shrug your shoulders, a smile playing on your lips with ease. “what’s the point of living when you have a price over your head? if someone does get me, they win. fair game. i just like playing while i can.”

he scowls, “you’re sick.” but he likes it. why does he like it? you had blood lust in your bones, he didn’t. he was just a man trying to live and provide for everyone he cared about. you were just a woman playing a game, a game that included your life.

“if i’m sick,” you clutch your knife behind your back, a smile still on your face, “then you’re sicker.” suddenly, you kick back his gun, shoving it on the ground as far away as you can.

he’s shocked, eyebrows creasing in anger, “what the fuck-” he’s on the ground in seconds. he wasn’t as sharp as he thought he was. and, soon, you have a knife to his neck, straddling his waist with smiling eyes.

“aw,” you coo, a fake pout on your features, “i thought you were going to kill me?” the alleyway gave you such a pretty look. the moonlight was truly doing you justice right now. why was he admiring you?! you had a fucking knife to his neck! you shift on him, pressing the knife a little deeper. “you know, this is actually the closest someone has gotten to killing me.” your voice was filled with admiration for the man beneath you. but the knife on his neck still didn’t waver, “i actually almost want to keep you.”

“fuck off,” he spits back, anger deep in his eyes. no fucking way would he let you keep him. he wasn’t made for you, fuck no.

you laugh a little, “careful,” you lean closer to his face, your breaths starting to mix in the cold air, “you still haven’t killed me.”

“yet,” he replies.

you smile while nodding your head, “yet.”

you get off of him with ease, and you know he’s going to reach for his sniper, so you step on the hand that was closest to it. he snarls in your direction as you stand above him. he’s quick to grab your ankle, but not fast enough. you easily kick it back with a roll of your eyes and a glare. he was really testing your patience.

“give it up, pretty boy,” you scoff, going to pick up the gun yourself. you look through the small lense before whistling softly, “she’s a keeper.”

he lays down, slightly defeated, “yeah, now can i have her back?”

you trace your fingertips along the cold, biting metal. you smile, “of course. it’s no fun if i take away your only weapon.” you place it down softly, before scooting it away with your foot, “but i can’t have you trying to kill me while i run away.”

you reach into your small satchel, grinning wildly as you pull out rope. the man scoffs at you, “typical.”

you easily tie him up, well, without the ocassional kicks and hits he tried to land on you. but soon enough, you were done and he was leaning against the brick wall with a sour face.

you toss him the knife that was previously against his neck, “here, use this to get out.” you smile at him with warm eyes, “you know, you’re actually really fucking hot. if this was any other time, maybe we could get to know each other. but, i see we both have different motives.” you nod your head at him, gesturing to the gun, “see you later, pretty boy.”

and, once again, you were gone.

your mind was a little off the next day. but you did your best to stay sharp and on guard, you had to. you breathe out, resting your head in your hand while sitting on top of some random rooftop. you were bored, but wildly distracted. the male with dark hair was strikingly beautiful and for some reason he was taking up your brain. you huff out, scoffing to yourself and cursing. he wasn’t worth the time you were spending thinking of him. he had one thing in mind, and it was killing you for the money.

you were level-headed, sure. but that didn’t mean you didn’t have weak points. much to everyone’s disbelief, you were quite the hopeless romantic. but nothing could ever work out for you. you were crazy, off the rails. plus your name was everywhere imaginable. no one wanted you, unless it was your dead body for the large amount of money. and that’s why you couldn’t trust anyone, never ever going to be able to live even a fraction of a normal life.

hearing a click behind your head was what caught you by surprise, freezing in your spot. your shoulders tense, before you smirk and put on a brave face all over again. here you go.

the cold metal of the gun sticks to the back of your head, “can i at least know your name?” you pout, knowing the person behind you could hear it.

they scoff, “why? you’re going to be dead anyway.”

ah, so it was him.

“wow, you’re back,” you smile, “most people don’t come back for this many tries, you know. now i have to know your name.” you feign excitement. it was true, not many people tried this hard. there’s silence after awhile, and you start to think you’ve ticked him off, before he breaks it again.

“renjun.”

it was brief, not much to discuss. your eyes widen in surprise, and you make quick work of turning yourself around so the head of the gun was pressing into your forehead. it was a different one this time. you sigh dreamily at him, looking at him with pretty, innocent eyes.

“such a fitting name, renjun,” you lick your lips, and he grunts at you, his jaw ticking as the hold on the gun tightens. you so desperately wanted to lick along it, but knew you wouldn’t have that chance in a million years.

why was his heart beating so fast? he could hear it in his ears, begging to slow down. the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth was so pretty, he almost wanted more. was he sick for wanting more? was he fucking creepy?

you tilt your head at him, “why haven’t you clicked the trigger yet, renjun?” your voice was so damn pretty. “don’t you want to kill me? just like everyone else?” your voice was sweet, but your eyes were glaring. you had a bitter look, and he hated the thought that you were thinking of him as everyone else. but, wasn’t he? he was here, trying to kill you. just like everyone else. just as you said.

slowly, he lowers the gun.

your eyes run wide, your body starting to shake and your eyes examining his every move. what the hell was he doing? there is no way he could have grown a soft spot for you over such a short amount of time. you were worth so much money, he could have it all. why was he doing this?

to be honest, he didn’t know why. he wanted to know why. he desperately wanted to just raise that gun back up and.. kill you. but, he couldn’t. his body wasn’t moving, and his bones were starting to give out. he could do it right now, get all the money to himself and help everyone he loved. but, the second he looks back into your eyes, he finds himself dropping the gun onto the ground. it makes a loud noise as it hits the concrete, filling your ears in the silence. the wind blows chills down your back as the two of you look at each other. you were shocked, and he was internally battling himself.

“is this..” you swallow, your voice growing shaky, “is this some kind of sick joke?!” your voice raises a bit, anger starting to surface as he looks at you with mild confusion, “i mean, come on, you could have easily shot me! is there something wrong with your head right now?!”

he watches as you start to lose your cool, but he can’t seem to respond properly. he was losing his mind, but stood in silence as he took your screaming and swallowed it down like a pill. your eyes were growing blurry, tears starting to cover them. you huff, turning away from him so he doesn’t see them. why were you fucking crying? were you disappointed he didn’t do it? or were you relieved he didn’t? you didn’t know. but you so desperately wanted to.

“yeah, i think so.” he answers after awhile, and you’re about to ask him what the hell he meant before he continues, “i think there is something wrong with my head right now.”

you whip back around, your demeanor more cool-headed now that you had a chance to catch your breath. his eyes were dark under the faded lights, but he still looked extremely beautiful from where you stood. he was too close, yet too far. he hadn’t moved an inch since getting there, like his feet couldn’t move and were glued to the ground. you sigh, eyes looking towards the night sky.

“can’t blame you,” you shrug your shoulders with a casual intent, “i think there’s something wrong with mine, too.” you look back into his confused eyes with a gleaming smile. you were pretty, too perfect in his eyes. dressed in all black, you looked even more appealing to him. you could say the same for him.

he awkwardly shifts around before responding, “why is everyone even chasing you?”

you stiffen in your spot, looking at him with a stoic expression. and he’s about to take his question back, before you answer him, “father. i tried killing him because he was abusive towards both my mother and me. then he suddenly put a price over my head for my dead body.” your answer was vague, but it was all he needed in order to understand. you haven’t told anyone, nor has anyone asked. it was new. did you appreciate it?

he nods, “right.” he doesn’t say much, and you’re grateful for it. you didn’t need sympathy, anything but that. and a part of him understood that.

you start to walk towards him, and he wants to move away, but he doesn’t. he wants to curse at the way your scent starts to make his body start to go a bit rigid, but he stays put. you were beautiful, the moon shining over your features as he drunk in your appearance. you had such a pretty little smile stretching on your face, so close to his. you stood directly in front of him, your breaths starting to mix together. and you notice the small hitch in his as you lean in.

“you’re really pretty, you know,” your voice struck him like lightning. the jolt he got down his spine was almost embarrassing.

he gulps, his hands starting to claw at the ends of his sweater, “the fuck?” his words were harsh as he tilts his head a bit, but you could tell he was only putting up a front. you grin wickedly.

“you were so close to killing me,” your eyes scan all across his face, “but you didn’t.”

he scoffs, “thanks for pointing out the obvious. i could pick up the gun again-”

“but you won’t,” you state. and he shuts his mouth closed. you smile again at the look on his face, annoyance starting to resurface there. “i like you.” you blurt out, his words catching you by surprise.

his eyes widen, before he scowls, “i keep trying to kill you, why would you-”

you cut him off again, “but you didn’t do it.” you lean closer, a hand coming up to trail along his jaw and he tenses visibly. you drop your hand with a chuckle, “i like you.” you repeat the sentence, your eyes intensely searching his, “i want to keep you. for myself.”

just how crazy were you? and just how fucking crazy was he for liking the idea?

“that’s fucking weird,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t resist the idea. and you grin, not missing the small detail.

“let me show you something,” you say with a small swing in your body. you had a cute expression on your face, excitement visable. he huffs, hating the fact that he liked it so much.

“like what?” he was still cautious, but you couldn’t blame him. you could be quite scary when you wanted to be.

“come with me,” you hold your hand out.

it takes him awhile of switching his gaze between your hand and your pretty smile, before slowly taking it. the walk was quite silent, but the grip you had on his hand never let up. even when your hands both got sweaty, you would only look at him with a curious look when he tried to break away. and he couldn’t bring it in himself to let go after that.

when you finally reach the small house you had set up, you grin as you unlock the door. the both of you step in, and he looks around cautiously as he drinks in the atmosphere. it was extremely clean, and surprisingly sleek. you kept yourself together, he could see. was this where you lived?

“i live here,” you answer for him, as if you could read his mind. he looks at you with uneasy eyes, “don’t worry, i’m not killing you. that’s not my job anymore. everyone’s out for me this time.” you shrug your shoulders, hanging up your coat. he eases into the idea of being in your home, but not moving from his spot. you smile warmly, eyes searching his, “calm down, i like you. i don’t have any intent on hurting you.”

he nods his head, “but why?”

you pause for a moment, thinking it over, “i told you why. you didn’t kill me, even though you could have. that’s worth something, right? or am i wrongfully judging you? i noticed you pick up the gun on the way over here before we left.”

he swallows, “no, you’re not wrong.” he takes the gun out, placing it on your kitchen counter that was right next to him. the cute grin on your face that appears makes his heart race.

“i knew i wasn’t,” you lean against the counter, crossing one leg over another. he drinks in your appearance again, his body wanting to fall at your feet all over again. his whole entire body was aching for you, terribly so, too. “why won’t you kill me?”

he looks into your eyes, “i don’t know.” and it’s true, he didn’t know. he really didn’t.

you nod your head, “can i kiss you?”

he chokes on his spit, eyes wide as he coughs a bit, “w- what the fuck?!”

you grin wildly again, “i didn’t hear a no,” you sing out, and he blushes softly.

“that’s such an odd quest-”

before he could finish his sentence, you were already leaning in and kissing him softly. your lips were soft, and his were heaven. he was hesitant, only slowly starting to ease into it. his hands latched onto your sides as fast as they could, fingernails digging into you. you sigh into the kiss, and it was a lot less eager than you expected. it wasn’t as sexually frustrated as you assumed. it was sweet, soft, slow. something you weren’t used to. it was such a nice feeling, though. making you lean even closer to his body as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. you never wanted to move away from him, never wanted to forget this moment.

your hands traveled from his shoulders up to his scalp, tangling into his soft black hair that you knew him so well for. it was a lot softer than you imagined, making you hum in his mouth. he licks along your bottom lip, and you were quick to grant him access. he grins a bit in delight, a noise of approval bubbling in his chest. he tasted like mint, and you tasted like strawberry. it was such a pretty contrast, much to his pleasure. he groans when you pull a little harder on his strands, backing you into the counter and smirking when you let out a small whine.

you smelled so sweet, like soft lavender and raspberries. he didn’t really know why, but he loved it. he could smell your shampoo, your laundry soap, and the candles in the room. you were intoxicating for him, just as much as he was for you. his kisses were growing more and more aggressive, until there was no more room to argue the fact that the two of you were heated more than you should be. his tongue explored yours, easily taking the lead with no problem. you let him, but as the two of you pull away, you suck on his tongue and grin at him when the two of you part with panting breaths. your chests were heaving, and he stares at you with deep concentration.

“what the hell is it about you?” he questions, brows furrowing, “i shouldn’t be in the slightest attracted to you, but i am.”

you trail a hand along his cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles. you smile when he leans into your soft touches, “i shouldn’t be attracted to you either, but i am.”

he sighs, head falling onto your shoulder as he places kisses there, sucking and making you gasp when he bites softly. he grins at that, placing his kisses along your neck and jaw, peppering you in sweet pecks. you ease into his arms, one of your hands clutching onto his shoulder while the other stays in his hair. he makes quick work to lift you onto the counter, and you raise an eyebrow as he leans back and studies you for a minute.

“can i fuck you?” he tilts his head, eyebrows starting to furrow again. you chuckle at his blunt question.

you place your hands on his shoulders before you start to swivel your hips against the buldge in his pants, “why ask?”

this was all he needed before he grips tightly onto your hips, pulling you against him and attacking your neck again. these kisses were rougher than the last, and you sigh at the feeling of his tongue swiping over your sweet spot. you clutch tighter onto his shoulders, moaning very quietly when he bites down. he wants more of those noises, the small sound sending blood rushing to his cock. you were so pretty, even the smallest noises had him going and wanting more and more.

his hand is quick to unbutton your pants, sliding them off with ease. he smiles to himself when he sees the small wet patch between your legs, “how long have you wanted this?” he tsked, “so naughty, baby.”

you let out a soft gasp mixed with a moan when he rubs you through your panties, eyes starting to pleade him when he rubs vicious on your clit. it was so good, so warm, but definitely not enough. you needed more.

“please, renjun,” you whine his name, clutching onto the hand that’s rubbing you. he let’s you guide his hand to reach beneath the constricting fabric, his fingers feeling just how wet you really were for him. “please touch me.”

your eyes were begging for him, and he couldn’t deny you for any longer. he inserts two fingers suddenly, making your mouth hang open in a long moan. he relishes in the way your eyes start to roll back with lust, the expression good enough to eat. he curls his fingers up immediately, wanting more of your sweet sounds. and he got them, the sound echoing off the walls and traveling right into his ears. his thumb was working just as feverishly on your clit as his fingers were that were inside of you. it felt so fucking good, his fingers working deliciously on you.

“fuck,” you breathe out, looking at him with such a pretty expression, “feels so good, renjun.”

he’s quick to pull his fingers out, making you whine and watch as he slips them into his mouth, “want you to cum on my cock,” he says simply. you nod and smile eagerly. he can’t help the smile that creeps up on his face. “do you have any condoms? i wasn’t expecting-”

“cum inside me,” you pull him back towards you as you see him start to back away, “please? really want you to fill me up.”

he gulps at the expression on your face, “shit,” he breathes out, “fuck, yeah, okay.”

you grin at him, watching as he starts to undress and you help him with his shirt as he takes off his pants and boxers. when he’s fully naked, he slips your panties off along with your shirt and bra. everything was moving so fast, but you weren’t complaining. not after seeing his long, pretty girth practically begging you to take him. he smiles at you admiring him, and you pull him in for another kiss. this one was more eager than the last, teeth clashing and tongues meeting incredibly fast.

you groan when you feel him start to push in the tip of his cock, and you have to break away as he slams into you all of a sudden, making you lose your breath. his hips were moving in no time, making you moan and whine in his ear and he chuckles at the sweet noises he’s granting out of you.

“fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” he licks the shell of your ear before biting down on it. you moan again, biting down onto his shoulder as your nails start to scrape at his back. “i can feel you clenching around me, practically begging me to fucking take you.” he was pounding into you at this point, his words making you throw your head back with your mouth open in a silent scream. he licks his lips, kissing along your neck and biting down more harshly than before.

“renjun,” you whine, fingernails digging into his skin so deliciously, “fuck, you’re so fucking good.”

“yeah?” he pants, a groan of his own surfacing when he feels you clench again, “such a good girl you are, taking my cock so well, princess.”

you whine at the same, and he’s working his hips so well that when he starts to press his thumb against your clit again, your body starts to spasm against him, moaning and mewling for him.

“please, oh fuck,” he was so deep inside of you, making you whine out and curl your toes in pleasure, “gonna cum soon, please.”

his dick pulses inside of you at the noises you make, “come on, baby. you can cum,” he breathes out, leaning back to take a long look at your face, “but don’t fucking close your eyes. keep your eyes on me when you cum, let me see just how pretty you really are.” he licks his lips when your walls flutter again, “cum on my cock, angel.”

and you lose it, wailing out and struggling to keep your eyes open and focused on him as you cum around him and dig the heels of your feet into his back while your nails dig into his shoulders again. he groans at the feeling of you significantly getting tighter and tighter. he rides you through your orgasm, huffing and watching the way your eyes start to flutter when you finish. he stays still for a little bit, letting you enjoy your afterglow before starting to move again.

“s- sensitive,” you try to push him back, but you struggle a bit and end up pulling him back in when you start to feel just how good the curve of his dick feels when he moves inside of you again.

he snaps into you, “i haven’t cum yet, sweetheart.” he kisses along your jaw, and you whine when he swivels his hips into yours, your abused clit more sensitive than the rest of your body. you unintentionally tighten around him and he grins as he picks up the pace again, going at it and wanting to see you fall apart for the second time. “i know you can take one more for me, can’t you, baby?”

you nod your head eagerly, “yes, yes. i can, renjun.” your name sounds so sweet coming from you, and he grins all the same. “i can.”

“good girl,” he sighs, and he picks up the original pace and sets his thumb right against your swollen bud all over again. the extra sensitivity makes you mewl and wail against him, so close to cumming already when he barely even did anything. “fuck, already, baby? that’s okay, cum for me again. such a good fucking girl.”

you whine, cumming for the second time that night and he doesn’t stop his pace as he feels your pussy start to milk him of his cum, “fuck, please, fill me up, renjun. would love your cum inside of me.” your voice eggs him on, and soon enough, he’s releasing inside of you with a long groan, his white sticky cum filling you up impossibly deep.

“oh, fuck,” he shudders a bit, his body going stiff as he clutches tightly onto your hips with both hands. he sighs, letting out a long breath of air as you groggily look at him step away and pull out of you. both of you wince at the loss of contact, but his eyes quickly advert to the way his cum drips out of you. he hums in satisfaction before looking up at you again. your eyes were droopy and you looked exhausted. “need sleep?” he asks, pulling on his boxers with ease and handing you his shirt.

you grin and take his shirt as you slip it over your head, “mm, yeah..”

he chuckles a bit before scooping you up and placing you in your room and on your bed as you guide him to where it was. you yawn happily, a smile on your face. he rushes to grab a wash cloth, and when he’s done cleaning you, he looks unsure of what to do, worrily looking at you and debating on whether he should lay next to you or not.

“you can stay,” you say, grabbing onto his hand and pulling him down with you. “don’t leave, not yet.” you whisper, curling into his arms with such a natural vice that he has no other option than to stay. not that he wanted to anyway.

“okay,” he whispers back, “i won’t.”

he’s quickly eased into sleep when he notices the rise and fall in your chest against his, smiling softly as he admires your sleeping form.

what the hell did he just get himself into?

when morning rises, you expect him to be gone. but he’s not. he’s still asleep, his eyes fluttering while in a deep sleep. how is it possible for him to sleep more than you? you certainly didn’t get as much as he did. but you admired the way he looked anyway. he was beautiful, so innocent when in a deep rest. and it aches your poor heart. because there isn’t a single way the two of you could stay together in this universe. definitely not this one, at least.

he can feel your gaze on him the moment he opens his eyes, and you smile sweetly at him. his bed head and the sunlight shining in on the two of you felt almost unreal. he was way too pretty in the mornings, it was almost unfair.

“morning,” he groggily says, his voice creaking just a bit. and you admire it all the same.

“morning,” you answer back, a smile gracing your delicate features. you’re normally drawn in some kind of twisted smile or grin, so seeing you in such a sleepy haze makes his chest tighten just a bit. you were incredibly beautiful, how could he ever resist you? why did you have to have such a complicated backstory? it made his head hurt, an eager mind on finishing off your father for you. you didn’t deserve this, not one bit.

he catches sight of the glasses held in an expensive case, his eyebrows furrowing as he grabs them, “what are these?”

you smile, “that’s vera, she’s good at zooming in on things when they’re too far. like enemies and stuff like that. she’s pretty useful, i designed her myself.” you pride yourself as you lay next to him. he smiles a bit, enjoying the overflowing pride that hung over your shoulders. “you can try them on. just say, ‘zoom in, vera’ and she does exactly that.”

he slips them on easily, the glasses covering his eyes nicely. they were a little bright, but he assumed they were mostly made for nighttime, “zoom in, vera.” and the glasses suddenly become extremely close to the vase that rested on your desk. they held no flowers, but the intricate details the glasses displayed made a low whistle come out, “woah,” he chuckles a bit before taking them off, his head growing a bit dizzy, “those are really fucking cool.”

you grin, “right?! and super useful for me.” he loves how excited you were. the way your eyes would gleam so prettily under the rising sunlight. you were surely a genius, a lot smarter than him. he admired your work, admired how strong you really were.

you were truly a sight to be reckon with.

it felt like he had known you his whole life. the days pass and pass between the two of you. and he constantly visits you, always around you. it’s like you have an invisible leash on him. he wants to always be with you. and an undeniable glow grows between you two. it’s like it blossoms into a bright spring, making his heart flutter any time he had the pleasure of hearing you laugh, seeing you smile, all caused by him.

you were on the couch, his arms loosely hanging around you as you sat on his lap. it was so comfortable around him. he didn’t judge you, even stopped seeing you as a valuable price tag like everyone else. it was like you were almost living a normal life.

but you weren’t.

and reality always knew a way to strike you right back in the face.

“i’m not normal, renjun.” you break the silence that fell over the two of you, and he stares at you with a questioning look. “i don’t get a happy ending.”

he looks away for a moment. he knows that. do you think he doesn’t know that? in all honesty, it’s all he can think about at night when he holds you tight in his arms before falling asleep. it was painful to think about. but he couldn’t help himself, and it seemed you couldn’t either.

“i want to make you happy while i can.” and he means it. he really does.

you smile sadly at him, looking at him with guilt written deep in your eyes, “i don’t deserve you. you don’t deserve this mess.”

“but i’m here, aren’t i?” he says, and his eyes are desperately trying to pull you out of whatever bad headspace you were in. “i don’t care what i deserve. i want you. that’s it.”

you brush a strand of hair out of his face, “i want you too. you do make me happy. i haven’t felt like this in a really, really long time.”

“you make me happy, too.” he states with ease. and you bite your lower lip before pressing a soft kiss to his pretty lips. he was too good for you. he deserved someone who could go out on dates with him, someone who could really cherish him without having to run away from everything, someone who could always be there. that wasn’t you. none of those things were you.

“i can’t go out with you. i can’t watch movies or walk around the park with you at night. i can’t hold your hand and go shopping. i can’t be in public.” you start, going to kiss his cheek as your voice starts to grow shaky and your eyes turn heavy, “i can’t give you the normal, cheesy romance that everyone dreams of. i can’t give you the love i know you deserve..” you pause, looking away for a moment, “i’m not the type of person anyone can love, or deserves to love. i don’t deserve that kind of love. least of all, from you. you deserve the cheesy romance. the kind that sweeps you off of your feet. i can’t give you that. i’ll never, ever be able to give you that.”

his eyes fill with tears, some falling down his cheeks as he stares at you with slight frustration, “i don’t care! i don’t fucking care for that kind of shit, i-”

“but i do,” you were speaking so softly, so calm. you ease off of his lap onto the spot next to him, “i do, renjun. and that’s what hurts.”

he’s silent. for what feels like the longest time, he’s silent. and he now knows what he’s going to do. he’s going to get you out of this.

days pass after that discussion, and renjun doesn’t contact you or even tries to visit you anymore. and you assume he’s moving on, but you don’t blame him. you would too if you were him. you’ll never forget the memories he had given you in such a short amount of time. the feeling he managed to give you. it was remarkable. he was beautiful. inside and out, you meant it.

so, when he barges through your door, catching you by complete surprise, your heart leaps out of your chest when he hands you a large amount of paper. you furrow your eyebrows, seeing a fake ID, flight tickets, and hotel check ins. you stare at the papers, then him. what the fuck?

“renjun-”

“i don’t want to hear it,” he seethes, his teeth clenching as his voice grows deep, “i managed to get you a flight out of here, with a fake ID. you’ll be going with a personal escort and wear these clothes i bought for you,” he drops the duffle bag around his shoulder, “no one should notice. i bought them according to when it’s the less crowded time. i have friends who work at the airport, so don’t worry. it’s all quite fucking convenient, really.” he huffs, his shoulders finally slouching, “i grew attached to you too quickly. i was afraid of losing you, so i stayed by your side through it all. i figured if i was there, nothing would happen. but i can’t always be here, can i?” the question was rhetorical as he looks away for a moment, eyes seemingly more focused on the floor beneath your feet, “these past few weeks with you, they were nothing i’ve ever experienced before. but neither of us can keeping going like this. i know that now.

“when you told me that you cared for those kinds of things, i knew i had to get you out of here. so that you could live those dreams of yours. you deserve that much. and, even though i know it can’t be me, i just want you happy. i want you to feel that, with at least someone.” he looks at you with glossy eyes, and you’re stuck in a state of shock as tears start to flood your own eyes. “i was selfish thinking i could keep you here.”

the air turns cold. and you feel a shiver run down your spine as you break into a fit of tears. you were breaking apart, feeling like you were finally able to get an ending you’ve always wanted. but, was it worth it if the ending didn’t involve renjun? you really didn’t think so.

“i can’t leave, not without-”

“yes, you can. and you will,” he brushes his thumb along your cheek, and you’re suddenly aware of how close he had gotten, “chase your weird, cliché dreams i know you love to think about, angel. promise me, you’ll never forget about me, though.”

and you do. you do promise him, because you know it’s impossible to forget someone who went through hell and back to make such silly dreams of yours come true. he wanted you happy. he knew you were tired, knew you were running a very thin rope. it was either this, or one day someone ends up killing you. he couldn’t go with, and you knew this. you knew he had other things to take care of here before he could really move forward. he wasn’t ready. but he needed you to be.

and when the day comes to leave, you remember kissing him. you remember kissing him, all while knowing it would be the very last time. knowing you wouldn’t be able to have him like this, not until the two of you meet in a less fucked up universe that wasn’t this one.

“one day,” he says, “i know we’ll be together. maybe not now, or in this world, or in this universe.” he pauses, resting his forehead on yours, “but i know, one way or another, we will find each other.” he smiles softly at you.

your eyes well up, “thank you, renjun. for everything.”

he shakes his head with a sad chuckle, “don’t. you deserve this.” a kiss on the cheek, and he was finally easing you out of his grip.

and you were walking away.

“i love you.” you whisper, and you know he couldn’t hear it the farther you start to walk away. tears were undeniably falling at this point, sniffling could probably be heard if someone was standing too close.

you managed to love him like some kind of summer romance. and even though it wasn’t something straight out of a movie, and even though it didn’t have the happy ending you were hoping for. it was enough for you.

your love for renjun, was enough for you.

and his love for you, was enough for him.

“goodbye, renjun. thank you.”

i like to think that somewhere out there, on a planet exactly like ours, two people exactly like you and me made totally different choices and that, somewhere, we’re still together. that’s enough for me.

a/n: hope you liked it!

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ccsthemovie2 · 3 years

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(I think it's a word over 500, but:)

"Speaking of Tsukishiro, how's he doing?", Eriol asks. Frying pan to fire to volcano.

"He's good," Touya says quickly, before Sakura can say anything. Yukito is not even in the ballpark of "good". Yesterday he called Touya and begged him to bike over and said it was important and when Touya showed up he was asleep, and stayed fast asleep right through to the next morning. He keeps trying to make appointments with doctors, and then falling asleep before he can call, or, when Touya calls for him, before he can make it out the door. Privately, Touya isn't sure how much good a doctor can do for him, but anything has to be better than this, right?

"Really? I'm glad to hear it." Ugh, how much has Sakura told him. Not that she doesn't have a right to talk to her friends, but, come on, would it kill her to least keep it between her and Tomoyo and the funny looking cat.

He's good, that's an obvious lie. Ruby has said Yukito could barely stand upright at school. Every inch of Touya Kinomoto is packed full of magic. Sooner or later, Eriol figures, either Sakura will be powerful enough to sustain him, or Yue will have to get over himself and just eat already. Touya can't actually do anything with his magic, so it's not like Yue, even weak as he is, will have to face much of a struggle to take it. (Aside from competition with Ruby, of course. There's something to that, right, articles and studies about animals being healthier if they need a bit of careful planning to get their food? Yes, so this works out nicely.)

Or maybe- oh, that's probably it. Yue's on to him, isn't he? He's just being stubborn as usual, figuring sooner or later Clow will appear via Eriol and save him. He can imagine how surprised, overjoyed, grateful Yue would be, if Eriol showed up and saved his life. He can imagine Yue's head resting on his neck as clearly as if he had kept Yue well-fed with magic a thousand times in his lifetime. It would be nice, in the short run, but it wouldn't be right, no. Clow is dead, and Yue needs to learn to live with that. If he knows what's good for him, he will take responsibility for his own life, and if he doesn't...

Ahh, well, maybe it's Clow's old sentimentality, maybe Eriol is just warming up to Sakura's moon guardian all on his own, but he can't bring himself around to the idea of letting Yue just die. He'd save him, if it came down to it. But, he tells himself sternly, only as an absolute last resort. He's just worrying because he misses Yue and wants to get to know him better all at once in that past-and-future way- it's worth a visit, soon. Yes, a nice little visit, and Yue will never even have to know it happened. Just to check in.

(sorry the formatting got weird when i copypasted lol!)

hiiii thanks for the ask!!!

if we talk about this convo we need to back up and talk about how it got here. this should give you some idea of how badly this needs to be under a cut for length lol.

so it all starts with the bit about how someone falling and being caught is something that happens a lot in ccs. how with eriol, it's purposeful, and with fujitaka (and i misremembered it but since found out she fell *on* him and not *caught* by him, which lolol i hope he broke a bone, but also its fine the fic's already marked canon divergent, or maybe the story gets misremembered, whatever, in any case), it's an echo of clowriol's intentional artificial-trustbuild-dangersaves but without the magic or purpose to back it up (just like fujitaka himself!), but it's a situation he quickly makes favorable to him, because it may be a blank slate but it's made of the same material.

this whole convo was part of one of the very first chunks written, but everything was going to go in a very different direction at first. (there's a lot of Cut Content from this fic, some that i just didn't like, some that wasn't connectable with the rest of the fic after it took the shape it took but might pop up somewhere else one day idk). in this particular bit i cut the later half of the conversation because i really didn't like what i'd written, but then even though the direction of the story changed the conversation was still going so it had to bounce somewhere else, so it bounced to yukito. here we are answering your ask 2 paragraphs in!

yukito, iirc in the anime, did catch her from a fall, (in the manga, which made way more sense for why she had to change her clothes and rest so much, he saved her from drowning, again iirc because who can trust a memory) and at a point where eriol still has some investment in making yuekito/sakura (ewwwww) happen, he's going to try and draw on that symbolism to nudge her in that direction, right?

so all this said, SPEAKING of yuekito. how are they doing.

bad, obviously. touya's freaking out. i imagine that part of what's stopping yukito from seeing a doctor is yue, though- he knows it wont help, and i dont think yukito has, like, person insides that will stand up to medical tests, and yue would pick up on yukito like, not wanting to be outed to the doctor as a magic construct because he, like, doesnt actually have a real heart that pulses, just a repeating heartbeat sound. doesn't for real have blood etc to test, just records of blood type (for personality reasons).

and also touya's a very like keep-ur-problems-not-everybodys-business type so hes like imagining sakura venting her fears to this weirdo and getting pissed off. but that didnt actually happen, eriol knew all on his own lolol. touya you have to say something nice should happen to sakura to make up for wrongly suspecting her now

and this bit on eriol's end is all wrong information and inaccurate conclusions and i was really worried ppl would take it at face value but i hope nobody did. in ccs we get moments where eriol wants sakura to take power, or to learn that power can be taken- his final battle with her, for example, where the answer to his light and dark puzzle is to use kero and yue's power, except that's not something she would ever Want to do or would even Occur to her to try. the power is gifted to her by kero and yue (and syaoran!) because they love her.

same concept, here- the answer to the 'yue is dying' puzzle is to eat touya's power, and he can't imagine the real reason why he won't just do that, and when he thinks about it too long it goes right to his ego- yue looovvvvesss clow, and by extension me. he wants meeeeeee to save him. he wants to neck kissy MY magic soo sooooo bad. but yue isn't considering any of that at all. he's thinking about yukito and what touya means to yukito and why that would make yukito hesitate to reach out, and that no way in hell will he just ambush his other self's crush down a dark alley and take his magic, even to save both their lives. he's a lot more selfless than clow and eriol ever realize. maybe- this is just a half formed thought right now, i dont know if im like certain about it, but- maybe they feel his devotion to clow was a form of selfishness, that he Wanted Love as a thing he could hold and own, whereas pretty much everybody else who meets him goes like YOU SELFLESS MAN YOU CANT JUST DIE FOR PPL YOU CARE ABOUT YOU GOTTA TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF TOOOO

and there’s also that bit of teacherliness intrinsic to the three of them again: im doing this to teach him a lesson. im letting ruby do her thing without telling her what’s going on to help and encourage yue, etc.

anyway, that (in terms of fic weaving itself into canon) solidifies his decision to do uhmmmm a thing that creeps me out real bad in the anime (knocking yue out to have a moment with him, and oh, ding, there's another 'you fell but i caught you' moment!). eriol loves this manner of hanging out with people, you see it later in this fic, even:

It's important to say what's in your heart to the people you want to say it to, even if you have to make sure the other person never hears it. It's important for your own emotional freedom.

he loves to spend time with people exclusively on his terms, to the point where the other party never even knew he was there, because he knocked them out, or because he was just staring creepily at the outside of sakura's house while she did homework, etc etc etc.

tldr: it's all connected, aaaaaaaaa

#ask

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seijohsfairy · 3 years

Text

you’ve been in love with kuroo tetsuro for years, silently supporting from the sidelines. it’s where you feel comfortable, felt- comfortable. so now that kuroo finds out you’re his most loyal fan?

.wordc. 9.5k tw manipulation, degradation!, corruption, bullying, dubcon/noncon, coercion, yandere kuroo, fingering, oral, Kuroo is on the world’s biggest ego trip

.author’s note. I finally finished this monster after struggling for so long ( ɵ̥̥ ˑ̫ ɵ̥̥) inspired by fanatic by @/jackrrabbit. if you want to read an amazing bullying smut, it’s seriously perfection

An obsession. If someone asked, you’d never call it that. An appreciation of the sport maybe, or of the hard work and dedication of the players. But an obsession might’ve been more accurate, as you have been a fan for years now. At least you can admit it to yourself. Not a day goes by where you forget to think about volleyball, and more in particular, him. It’s not your fault it makes you so happy… It’s not at all, and yet—

You’re able to watch the young men through the open doors of the gym, the resounding bangs of spikes flattening against the polished floor filling the building. You huff out in the afternoon sun and hide under the sun-bleached, red parasol as best you can, before wiping a bead of sweat from your temple. Soon everyone will be pouring out of the classrooms, which brings a smile to your face. But for now, you spare another look inside the bright hall, following the red jerseys as they move swiftly around the court. The speed at which the balls connect with the floor have always impressed you, but your eyes are instead on the middle of the group, tracing the number one mindlessly.

“Senpai, are you alright?” your junior squeaks out. You flinch in surprise at her question, almost dropping the drink you’re holding in the process. Her short brown hair sticks to her face where a wide-eyed expression marks it, though a small, unsure smile stays in place. You quickly bring out a laugh though, waving off her concern.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry,” you put down the glass can and press your cool fingers to your forehead, smiling, “the heat just makes it hard to actually pay attention. Could you repeat that, please?”

“I’m just so glad you suggested this, s’all!” she beams, putting the last of the lemonade out on the table, each can in between ice packs. They’re already dripping, coming summertime close to unbearable. “My big brother always talks about the fanclub at home and that other teams don’t have a fanclub near as good as ours!” You smile at her while you pour chunks of ice into the white wine, putting it out too. The entire table is decorated with the team colors, flyers to one side, donation jar and cash register on the other, with all the drinks, ice pops and watermelon slices in the middle.

You even made all of the small, red cat charms that hang from the parasol yourself. A bit overkill perhaps, but no effort really feels big enough when you’re as dedicated to a team as you are, even if it’s embarrassing to say. But well… you’d do just about anything to support Nekoma and the man you’ve been crushing on for years now. While you peer up at the windows of the classrooms, mentally keeping track of just how much longer you’d have to wait for the rest of the fanclub to join you, you miss the proud look the younger girl sends your way. Yui, the libero’s younger sister, pulls her hair up in a tiny ponytail. “You must be so proud since you started it all by yourself.”

You look back down at her, flushing. “Of course I am proud of the fanclub, but I’m even more proud of our team. Y’know, I’ve been watching some of them since middle school and they all seem to enjoy it so much. It makes me want to support them in any way I can.” You’ve taken the requests of the team to heart to the best of your ability. Hopefully you can sell a lot, they’d really need new cleaning equipment and some of the shorts and jerseys could definitely be replaced with new ones.

“Of course Nekoma’s angel would say that,” a voice giggles, the black haired girl strolling up behind you. All the others walk close behind, right when the bell indicating the last class rings. The rest of the fanclub waves politely, many of the girls with their own healthy flush. “Make some space, Mrs. Kuroo, everyone will be getting out in a minute or so.” You give the other third-year a little poke in her side, looking down at the menu as you pick at the corner of the laminated sheet. It’s so silly, but the nickname makes you all warm inside. How nice it would be to actually be… well. You shouldn’t think so far ahead, or not ahead at all, since Kuroo Tetsuro has absolutely zero interest in you. The overflowing amount of love you have for him isn’t making up for anything.

“Don’t call me Mrs. Kuroo. It’s embarrassing,” you tell the raven-haired girl, glancing back inside the hall for just a moment to watch as said man gulps down his water, sweat drenching his hairline and dripping down his chin. “Even if I like it, he doesn’t know I exist.” Some of the girls coo at your admission, all of them at least aware that you’ve looked up to the Captain for years. Your friend sends you a knowing look, before cracking her fingers and getting to work on the cash register. She’s been trying to get you to say something for months, and with the last few weeks of high school growing closer and closer, you can’t even blame her.

But what would you even say to the guy you’ve crushed on for so long? After all, you’ve been in his class for three years now and he never once spoke to you directly either. He’d probably be creeped out by your dedication to him. Before you can think of any more, bunches of students start pouring out of the buildings, looking tired out by the day. When they see your stand, many of them light up, already taking out their wallets to get some cool lemonade. You clap your hands and look at the girls surrounding you, before nodding. “Alright, let’s do this! We’re going to sell everything out today. Yui, you get that side?” You turn to the first few customers and put on your best smile, handing them a menu. “Welcome to the Neko Outdoor Café! Would you like a drink?”

///

“Captain!” Yamamoto calls, pout more pronounced with each passing second. “Please let us take a break. Please.” He’s about to get on his knees and beg. “Come on, man. I need this.”

The raven haired man just lifts a brow in his direction, before turning his attention back to the bench so he can tie his shoelaces properly. “Shut up, you’re being noisy.” He doesn’t care to ask what the guy is on about, already more than annoyed at having to practice in this sweltering heat. Every movement feels slower than usual, it’s pissing him off.

“They’re going to sell out and leave, Captain!” the other tries again, tugging at the edge of Kuroo’s jersey like a child. In fact, he looks like he might burst into tears. The Captain ignores him.

“I’m sure they’re keeping some extras for us,” Yaku tries, smacking Lev’s hand away from his water bottle and downing the last of it.

Kenma hums. “You know they wouldn’t leave us with nothing, they’re all so thoughtful.” The setter is already trying to soothe a teary-eyed Yamamoto, while Kuroo straightens out to wipe himself down with a towel. “They probably have a whole pack of ice lollies stored away for after practice. Our cheer squad leader wouldn’t be caught dead forgetting about anyone.” At the mention of your name, the Captain frowns, the sound unfamiliar. “She even remembered to bring some mango for me last time, and I don’t even remember telling her I don’t like watermelon that much.”

“Who now?” Kuroo frowns. He pokes out his tongue to wet his lips, following his team’s gazes to outside the gym, where rows of students are lining up. He can just see the edge of a red table, curiosity peaked.

Kenma’s face blanks when he looks over at his long time friend. “The leader of the fanclub? She’s been to every one of our matches since like… eighth grade or something. How have you never noticed her?” Some of the boys turn to him in confusion too. Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest, before chewing on his answer. It’s not that he ignores anyone on purpose. But your name doesn’t ring a bell, neither does the description.

“Pretty sure she really likes you, too,” Lev suddenly says, getting up from his spot on the floor to bound closer to the door to watch past it. “She always wears clothes with the number 1 and your name on it. She’s very nice, she bought me chocolate milk after our last game.” He stares out the door for a moment longer, before perking up and waving for his older teammates’ attention. “Ooh ooh, she has ice creams for us, she’s calling. Can we please take a break, Captain?”

Everyone turns to the third year. Even Kenma is giving him an unspoken question with his expression. “Fine, whatever,” Kuroo just sighs, giving into their antics. “But after that we’re getting back to spike training and you better all jump higher than I’ve ever seen you jump.”

While waiting in line, he asks to point you out. You’re busy smiling at every single student that comes by, colored shadow falling over you because of the sun shade that is just as red as the rest of the table. Just as red as your flushed face, and as red as the shirt that you’re wearing with his name on it. You look kind, with a childlike joy on your face, innocent in the way you beam out warmth. And after staring at you for a while, you do start to look a bit familiar. Huh. So this is what his biggest fan looks like. He’s not let down, not exactly, though he does wish that you’d focus less on the lemonade and more on him as he waits in line with the rest of the team. But it’s understandable, you’re just trying your best. Even he can see that.

Suddenly, you look up from the cash register, having been shoved in the side with an elbow by your friend and in the split second he catches your eyes, he can see several emotions flash in them. The last one before you look away is definitely wide-eyed mortification though. You look away from him and turn to your friend, whispering something in her ear as your cheeks grow red-hot. You blank at her answer, before biting your lip. It’s strange, but something in the things you do are cute to him. How you nervously toy with the edge of your shirt. How you try to keep your eyes on the ground but glance back every so often anyway. How you put on a smile. You must really, truly like him. And he can’t say he doesn’t like at least that. That innocent expression on your face is to die for. Really.

After a minute or so, you seem to gather your wits and look up to walk from behind the stall. “Guys, you don’t have to wait in line. Come up here,” you wave them over, not looking at him at all. Somehow, this only makes him giddier, wanting to see you flush even harder. Maybe you’d pass out if he talked to you. Maybe you’d cry. Would you even be able to handle it if he got any closer? The smirk that clings to his lips is one of ego-filled happiness, he can’t help himself. Something about you makes him feel like he’d be able to break you with the slightest of pressure, and though he’s never quite wanted to control someone like that, he can’t say it doesn’t feel exhilarating.

Everyone moves out of the one line to skip to the front, as you busy yourself by glancing under the tables to pull out an extra cooler, opening it swiftly. That way your skirt pulls up insanely high, though you try to keep it down with one hand. Oblivious to what you’re doing, surely. His cute, little fan. He’ll have to give you a lesson on proper manners, but not now. All in due time. When everyone starts thanking you, you just rub your neck, straightening back up.

“How much are they?” Kenma asks, “I’ll pay. Is it alright if I get the money to you after practice though?”

“No, no!” you beam, “they’re free for you guys! I could hardly let our own team pay for some stupid ice pops and lemonade.” You don’t hesitate to smile at Kenma. Kuroo holds his tongue from breaking into your conversation for now, instead taking one of the watermelon slices and biting into it. You seem to sink into yourself a bit when he turns back in your direction, almost as if you’re trying to disappear into the background entirely. Would be hard though, with that bright a shirt. “We also have wine if the adults want any,” you continue, shooting Kai and Yaku a guilty glance then and trailing off. “Though that might not be a good idea if you’re still practicing.”

You still have yet to look back at him, creating a void of something in the pit of his stomach. Why don’t you want to look at him as much as he wants to look at you? “Are there any strawberry pops?” Lev asks, probably aimed at you but Kuroo’s already taking a step towards you before you can answer.

This way you’re not able to ignore him any longer. Your eyes are so big and stunned when you glance up at him, tilting your head back just so you can look him in the face. There you are, he thinks. You pull a lip into your mouth, cheeks burning with color. Your chest heaving up and down, heart clearly pounding so hard he swears he can hear it. And Kuroo is living for it, the thrill of making you so affected by his presence undeniable. He wants to be the one to make you so flustered, wants to be the one to taint it too. He does know that’s probably not normal, but it’s so tempting. He smiles down at you, watching when your lips tremble softly. Cute. He softly calls out your name, grinning wider when you seem to mellow for a moment at the sound. “Did you do all this yourself?” he asks, enjoying the starstruck expression on your face.

You have to take a moment to get yourself back on track, clearly. Understandable. “Mhm,” you manage though, looking anywhere but him again when you realize you’re staring. “W-Well, everyone helped plan it, of course. I just made everything they planned out.”

“Yeah?” His smirk has yet to leave his face, but if it could grow any wider, now would be the time. You give a shy nod, looking back up at him for a moment. “The lemonade looks good. The watermelon’s good too.”

You’re practically glowing at his compliment, taking a step back to roll yourself back and forth on the balls of your feet. He wants to place his hands on your shoulders to keep you still, but really, you might just faint if he does so he holds himself back. “T-thank you s-so much! I’m glad you like it. I hope you’ll be able to use the funds well, but if you ever need anything else, you can always ask me,” you lift your shoulder and smile at him for just a moment, blush still raging on your face. You blank then, quickly adding, “or any of the other girls! We’re all here to support you, so… p-please keep working hard and doing your best a bit longer!” You’re stuttering like crazy too. He’ll have to work that out of you.

Before he can say anything else, someone calls for your name, so you quickly bow and rush back to your spot behind the stall. The girls giggle and poke at you, some of them hardly subtle in their whispering and cooing. And Kuroo smiles, because he might have just found something new to peak his interest.

///

You couldn’t have known. Not really. You couldn’t have known the full extent of his anger and definitely not how it would turn on you. So why does it feel like you made a horrible mistake? As you are sweeping the last of the hall, you hear the familiar, resounding echo of volleyballs smacking against the smooth surface. It’s a sound that’s long grown near and dear to your heart. Still, you put the brush to the side to make your way to the gym door where it stands swung open. It’s a Friday. The Nekoma team doesn’t play volleyball after school hours on Fridays. You frown as you peek around the cold, metal door into the otherwise vacant hall. As the class representative this term, you’re basically expected to be the last one here.

The man causing the constant butterflies in your stomach is facing away from you, frustration seeming to radiate off him in angry, black swirls as he throws balls against the wall, making continuous tosses to himself. You wait for a moment longer, glancing back into the school building as you debate your options. Though you were unable to watch the end of practice, you saw the beginning. Kuroo was anything but the collected player he normally is, the sight of it making your heart ache. Very hesitantly, you knock your knuckles against the metal. You rather wouldn’t be putting yourself in his proximity by choice, last time enough to make you so flushed and flustered you were stumbling all over your words.

Still though, you just want to help him. Maybe you could make him feel just a bit better. “Kuroo-san?” you try softly when he doesn’t react. He catches the ball at your call, pausing for a second. Then he turns to you. A shadow on his face, tall shape seeming to loom over you even from afar. You dig your nails into your own palms at the sharp glare that’s sent your way, his eyes flicking over your entire body, coming to rest back on your face. He doesn’t say anything, so you try to gather your courage and clear your voice, taking a step into the gym. “I- Sorry, I heard you still practicing. Are you- I mean- I don’t want to assume or anything, b-but- you don’t normally practice on Friday.”

The brief flicker of courage you had soon sinks deep within the pit of your chest as the silence continues. He bounces the ball on the floor once before catching it again, lifting one of his brows. Still with that gleam in his eyes, the one set off by the darkness cast around him. Then he sighs, and in a second his smile is plastered back on. The smile you’ve grown so used to seeing from afar, but it doesn’t feel quite right. It certainly doesn’t reach his eyes. It looks a bit off too, lopsided like he’s trying to convince himself to keep it up. “You— Ah, you’re the… fan club girl,” he nods. He tosses the ball up a few times, seemingly thinking, before he clicks his tongue. His deep voice resonates through the empty hall. “Yeah, sorry if I’m bothering you. I wanted to get some more practice in.”

You wring your hands into the front of your shirt, mindlessly bunching it up in between your fingers. When his eyes are back on you, you have to fight yourself from taking a step back. “No, you’re not bothering me at all, I don’t expect any less from our team Captain.” You swallow. Then, barely louder than the thumping of your heartbeat against your ribs, a thought tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. “Would you like me to help you practice for a bit?” It’s a little thing, so small, and you’ve done it for Lev and Kenma plenty of times. But your hands shake when you ask.

Kuroo’s eyebrows pull tightly together, his expression looking so off-putting even when you normally think everything about him is beautiful. You think he’s perfect, even drenched entirely in sweat and with grooves dug deep under his eyes, exhausted to the bone, so why? Why does he glare at you this way, and how can you make your heart stop wavering in your chest? You briefly stand there to think about what you just said, trying to figure out exactly what you did wrong to make him feel even more shitty, but come up blank. He must have misread your tone of voice, or maybe you had a dumb expression on your face. Just some stupid mistake you made. That’s the only explanation you have why amazing, gorgeous, perfect star player Kuroo is acting the way he is.

“Do you even know anything about volleyball? You don’t look like you do.” The sharp comment feels like a slap to the face, and you take in a little breath as you attempt to rid the unsettling tension between you two. Maybe soothing him isn’t the way to go, but you know Kuroo makes himself feel better with practice and that is something you can do. For him, you could for hours.

“I— I can… serve alright,” you hesitate, looking from his face to his shoes instead. “I know a l-lot about volleyball and though I- I might not be the best, I’d still help, right?” His sharp eyes are still on you like an accusation, and no, no, no, this is all wrong but you don’t know how to fix it.

“Aah,” Kuroo coos then, chuckling to himself as he passes the ball your way, “you want to help me.” You barely catch it, clutching it close to your chest as he motions you closer with his hand. “O‘course you do.” With sheepish steps you make your way toward him because he asked, staying an arm’s length away for your own poor heart. Last time you were this close to Kuroo, all you could do was give some mindless encouragement, even though you were trying. You just couldn’t help get flustered back then. A cold shiver makes its way up your spine though, and you fight the pressing feeling to run. This is your favorite person in the world you’re looking at, and you’d do anything for him. You would, really. “Because you’re my fan, aren’t you?” he echoes your thoughts, and you bob your head in reply.

Your voice is barely above a whisper now, throat closing up when he leans in as if to inspect you more thoroughly. “Yes, of course, Kuroo-san. I’ve been a fan since I first saw you play a match back in middle school.” You wince at your honesty. Don’t tell him that, your mind screams, but it’s too late. All you can do is bite your lip to keep more from tumbling out.

“Yeah, yeah, so I heard.” He gleams, petting your hair and you try to keep your elation to a minimum, because his eyes are still just as sharp as they were when you first walked in, but butterflies flutter in your stomach. His fingers linger for a moment, the weight of his hand making your heart jump. It’s gone soon enough. “You in my class?” You nod eagerly, but while you do he’s already speaking again. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You’re my biggest fan, huh?” He’s leaning closer again, closer, too close, almost like he’s going to kiss you and you might sink through the floor if he gets any closer.

You try not to let the faint smell of his cologne overwhelm you, his face flushed at the edges of his cheeks because of the exertion. You open your mouth to figure out a response again, but Kuroo is faster. “You come to each match, hoping I’d notice you, right? Begging for my attention like a little kid, wearing my name on your body like that. Don’t you feel embarrassed?”

It takes your brain a while to unfilter the words, playing and replaying them now that you take a step back. “Aren’t you embarrassed to be so obsessed with me? Such a cute, little fangirl, just begging for a look your way?” No. It’s not like that, you are not like that. You’re not obsessed, you just care a lot about him. About the entire team. “Pretending to be into volleyball so you can talk to me, right? Do you talk to Yaku’s sister so you can get to me? Do you talk to Kenma so you can get to me too?” You want him to stop talking, why is he still talking? Why is he acting this way at all?

“N-No, it’s not like that,” you bring out, flushing when his hand wraps around your one shoulder to keep you from backing away from him. He straightens out to his full height, towering above you and as you follow his tall body up to his expression, you hate how he is smiling. A loathing, off-centered smile that gleams on his handsome face. The feeling to run grows so strong in your mind that for a moment you can barely ignore it. There’s something wrong. But of course you remain, you just want to make him feel better. “It’s not like that at all. They are my friends. I love volleyball.”

“You love me, Y/N-chan?” he asks then, dark eyes glazing over.

“I— I’m your biggest fan,” you settle on responding. Wouldn’t it be too much to admit you love him, even if you do? He doesn’t seem to take it, looking down at you with thinly veiled irritation now. The fingers on your shoulder tighten, though you’re too distracted to notice. “I mean- Of course I… love… you, but not in an obsessed way! I just have a lot of respect for how hard you work,” you drawl out, throat closing up when the gleam on Kuroo’s face seems to drop in favor of something softer. Something like admiration. You used to love how he would wear his emotions on his face, but now it’s too much. He’s still not satisfied, you can see it. “And I’d do anything to make you feel better so-”

“Hah. Aren’t you just incredibly sweet,” he sighs, finally letting go of your shoulder. You can feel the weight of it long after it’s gone, warmth trailing down your limbs tentatively. You’re so glad you let out a trembling puff of relief. He takes a deep breath, before he smiles again. Softer, familiar, and your heart slowly comes back to life. This is how it’s meant to go, this is how you always imagined it as Kuroo leans down to brush a strand of hair away from your face back behind your ear, sweet and tender. Hair that you keep longer than you’d want because you know Kuroo likes it that way. You’re sure your stress of earlier was showing on your face, cheeks burning for attention. “You’re so pretty like this, my little fangirl. Mine.”

You don’t miss the drop in his voice, a possessive tone that seems misplaced. As he brushes a knuckle past your cheekbone, tingles pool in your belly. “I’ve had a really tough day today, you have no idea. But I’m glad you’re here now. I think I do know how to fix my shitty mood, actually!” He takes your hands in his then, enveloping them with soft traces of his fingers. He pulls you toward the side of the gym, dragging you behind him. Kuroo Tetsuro is holding your hands. It feels too quick, sprung on you so suddenly it makes your head spin, but they are just so warm around yours like you hoped they’d be. The dark-haired man looks back over his shoulder. “You said you will help me, right?”

“Mhm,” you smile, watching him, how his shoulders move under the red volley jersey and his hair waves softly with each step. And he’s still holding your hand. This must be a dream. You’re on a mindless path until he walks you past the lockers and the damp feeling of the shower air hit your face. That’s when you slow your feet and pull against him a little, blinking out of your daze to glance to the side. Kuroo turns to face you. “Hey, this is the boys’ room.” Your obvious statement makes him chuckle, one hand coming up to cup your cheeks and though it’s insanely overwhelming, you don’t have the heart to pull back. He squishes your cheeks together until your lips turn into a cute, little pout.

“You’ve never been in a boys’ locker room, sweet thing? You’re just that good, huh?” Kuroo stares you down with his pretty, golden eyes while you fail to answer. Isn’t being good supposed to be a positive thing? But he says it like it’s something dirty, like you’re not quite right and you can’t help the sinking feeling that fills you to the brim. He pushes the door to your side into lock, the loud clang making your heart race. When he turns back to you, the darkness in his face is what scares you most.

Cats don’t eat cats, do they—

He doesn’t hesitate to grab you by the shoulder and shoves you up against the lockers, your back connecting with the cold metal sharply. You wince, his hand still around your cheeks. It’s so much bigger than you, you realize, he’s so much bigger than you. That never scared you before, but now you’re painfully aware of the looming shape and the way he’s able to look down at you like this. You swallow and keep his golden gaze. But he releases his hold on your face to hold the back of your neck, long fingers splayed across the soft skin, before leaning down so far into you, you can feel the tremble of his breath on your face. “Would you like me to kiss you?”

Your eyes are wide, unbelieving. Of course you do, but… You wait for what feels like a lifetime, his warmth too close to you. You can’t say no, can you? So you nod and drop your shoulders, eyes fluttering closed. If he were to kiss you all those uncomfortable feelings swirling inside would surely vanish. Kuroo hovers his lips over yours, you can feel them so close, but no more than that. And he chuckles, tilting your head to the side with two fingers instead. “No. You don’t deserve it yet. Don’t you think you have to work a bit harder for it? I know you’re good at that.”

He walks toward you until you’re fully pinned to the cold locker in between his legs, as he connects his lips with your neck. His lips are so hot, like steaming coals on you, and you can’t help but grab onto his bicep for support. It flexes under your touch. He kisses down your throat and jaw, lips dragging trails of kisses and tongue carving paths down to your collarbones and to the edge of your shirt.

And you’re so overwhelmed that the person you’ve loved for so long is actually touching you, that you don’t notice how tight his grip is wrapped around your neck, fingertips pressing ovals into the expanse. “You just wanted this the whole time, huh,” he coos, voice sickly sweet. But when he looks up at you from under those lashes, the gold in his eyes has the sharpness of a blade, daring you to reply. You shudder when his hand drops down to drag your shirt up. “Bet you’ve had so many guys hoping that one of them would feel and taste like me.” He unceremoniously shoves it up from your body, over your shoulders. You look to the side where it drops to the floor, your school uniform a crumpled mess.

“Kuroo-san,” you bring out, self consciously wrapping your arms around yourself to cover up. You don’t like this. You don’t like him telling you that you’ve had people just to prepare for him, don’t like him eating up the sight of you like you’re a piece of meat and you definitely don’t like how he presses his thigh in between your legs to pin you up to the locker. “W-what are you doing?”

He huffs in amusement, tangling his fingers into the hair at the top of your neck to tug back your gaze towards his. “You can drop the politeness, silly girl,” he says again, letting go to brush softer circles into your skull. His lips brush over yours as you stand there, trembling, unsure what to do. How can you say no to him if he’s here, so close, with you for the first time in ever? He taps his fingers on your hands to make you release your hold on yourself, which you do with a bit more coaching. Maybe you just think this is going way too fast because it is him. The boy that offers his friends water before drinking himself, the one with the loud laugh that rings through the halls and makes your heart thump. The guy you’ve been head over heels with. That one.

This is okay, you say to yourself, calm down. His other hand traces along the bottom of your bra as soon as you drop your arms to the side, slipping a finger under just enough to lift it from your skin and you shiver. “You gonna take this off for me?” he asks, rubbing his thigh in between yours more. You can’t answer because you’re dropping your head back against the locker, overwhelmed and unsure still, with the lack of oxygen getting to you all you can do is let out a little whimper. You don’t know a lot about this, you’re sure he does. The hand around your neck drops so he can flip your skirt up, chuckling at your cute panties. You look down in embarrassment and attempt to shove the plaid fabric back down over your thighs but then he lets out a growl, holding it in place. “You wear my name on your body like my personal whore. Don’t play too shy to follow through.”

His long fingers trace over the edges of the panties, where you take deep breaths to calm down. You can’t help but push your waist down on his muscular leg for some friction, looking to the side when he chuckles. “You really are a little slut.” This time you shake your head though, pouting at him.

“I’m not, Kuroo.”

“Liar,” he breathes, pressing his nose to the crook of your neck. “You act like a well-mannered princess but we both know you want to be put in your place.” Not waiting up for a response, he lifts you by your thighs up higher, so he can bury his face into your covered chest, dragging his tongue over the one cup. You can feel the wetness of his tongue seep through the lacy fabric onto your skin. It’s warm and uncomfortable, his breath cooling your skin down instantly. “If you’re not going to take it off, I will,” he gleams, looking up to check your expression again. Ever so slowly he starts pushing the fabric up, not bothering to unhook the piece of clothing. Instead he toys with brushing over your pointed nipples, kissing up your sternum. His eyes flick to yours continuously, like he’s making a show of undressing you. He licks his lips, leaning towards you again.

“Kuroo,” you manage to mumble, resting your one hand on his shoulder to push him away from you. You stumble when you land back on your feet, looking down at the floor. Burning heat covers your entire face, from your cheeks up to your ears. It’s physically painful to be so near him, and the tight grip on your thighs isn’t helping. Your heart is pitter pattering so hard it might break through your ribcage. Despite how much you dreamed about falling in love with him, it wasn’t like this. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I have to lock up the halls and go home.” Your friend’s voice rings through your head then, something about bad guys and the way they prey on kind girls like you, creating cold goosebumps along your arms again. Kuroo Tetsuro can’t be one of those guys, you’ve looked up to him for so long. If he is, what would you even do? “I want to—”

“Don’t lie,” he interrupts, glaring up at your disapproval, “don’t ruin this for me.” Without hesitation he locks his mouth onto your exposed skin, rubbing his knee against your covered center, hard. It sends a spike of heat down your body. You breathe out at the rough laving of his tongue, only soothing after he sucked and bit the tender skin. His one hand reaches up to pull down your panties from under your skirt as soon as you’re closing your eyes, and though you open your mouth to stop him he shuts you up by pinching your thigh sharply between his long fingers. “I told you to stop lying to me. Whatever comes out of that pretty mouth next best be the truth.” He trails his digits up and down a few times, the slightest soothing to your anxiety.

“I… I just don’t—” you swallow, looking away from his eyes to focus on the shine of the lights. They make your eyes burn, but at least you don’t have to undergo his vicious glare this way. It really feels like he despises you for even breathing in his direction, though then why would he be kneeled in front of you. The conflict makes you nauseous, more insecure than you’ve ever been around him and your throat closes up a bit. When his stroking stills, you push through the words anyway. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

He laughs. A warm, bubbly sound against your thigh. “No one’s ever stuffed you with their fingers before?” He looks gleeful, nuzzling your hip in a too-intimate gesture. You’re his fan, but he barely knows anything about you. You slowly shake your head, cheeks warming. His hands start moving again as he shuffles closer between your thighs so his mouth is level with your chest. As he eyes you up and down, he giggles to himself. “Did my slutty fan get herself off on the thought of me? D’you beg for me when coming around your useless, little fingers?” You bite your lip, eyes flicking down at him when he calls your name. “I’m waiting for an answer~”

“I don’t—,” you bite out, flustered and feeling small. He must hear the edge in your voice. With a quick flick of his wrist, he brings his down on your thigh, pinching you hard for good measure. You yelp and grab hold of his head to steady yourself, before quickly pulling your hand away again. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Wanna try again?” he mumbles though, trailing two fingers up and down the crotch of your panties. It feels warm, and really good, but you’re still cold to the touch. Is this really okay? You doubt it. When he starts licking at the edge of your panties you shudder, letting your weight fall into the sturdy locker for support. “Hm, d’you get off to me?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth. You might have touched yourself down there once or twice, but in your imagination that was always long after he’d gotten to know you. In your imagination he was gentle, caring. Nothing like the impatient trailing of his fingers, like he can’t wait to play a game you never agreed to. At his golden gaze, you let the truth spill. “Sometimes,” you breathe, immediately hiding your face in your own shoulder from embarrassment.

“That’s what I thought, dumb girl.” He pushes your panties unceremoniously to the side to collect the slick there, grinning. You didn’t even notice you were getting wet while trying not to anger him. He doesn’t waste time taking advantage of this fact though. He spreads your bottom lips open with his fingers, looking up at you easily. His deep voice feels loud in the pressing silence of the abandoned gym, and you can’t help but wonder how much trouble you’d get in if anyone found you here. “Listen, brat,” he calls, pushing his lips to the top of your thigh to bite the plush skin. You jerk away from him with a cry, but he doesn’t let up.

“I’m gonna push my fingers inside that filthy cunny of yours, stretch out your little hole so you can actually fit something in there. ‘Cause I know you’re a good girl, so you’re probably gonna go braindead if I fuck you like this.” He chuckles at your hitched breathing. You can’t even begin to understand. The person you love more than life itself wants to fuck you? Well, his fingers are still playing down there, slowly pushing into you and they are thick, much thicker than yours. You can’t believe it. Kuroo Tetsuro wants to fuck you, in the boys locker room of the school gym while you should be long on your way out by now. No, you can’t. But you don’t find the words to speak up under his gaze, not wanting to disappoint him. If he notices your mental struggle, he doesn’t show it. “Then you’re gonna help me out like you promised by sucking my cock, right?”

You freeze up. You did say you’d help him, you said that didn’t you… But you didn’t know it would be like this, if you did you would��ve said ‘no’. You curse yourself for saying anything at all, trying to calm your heart as best as you can. You’re feeling so overwhelmed. By his touch, his presence, the situation, the stress put on your poor, frazzled brain. When two of his digits are halfway inside you, you let out a whimper. That’s at least three of your own, you already feel spread so thin. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, raven hair, needing anything to cling to. “Say, ‘Yes, Tetsuro’,” he coos, pressing a row of kisses over the front of your panties, chuckling at the little bow. But the sweet tone is taken away as soon as it comes. “Say it.”

“Y-Yes… Tetsuro.” He hums happily, shoving his fingers inside you in one swift move until his palm is against your center. Your legs almost give out at the feeling. “Ah- ah! S’too much, Kuroo.”

The raven haired man grins at that, curling his digits inside you and pulling them out just as quickly. Like striking a match. You reach up your hand to bite into it, hoping to contain your sounds. Your slick sounds ring through the empty locker room as Kuroo slides them back in and out at a punishing pace. “My dumb, pretty baby really is clueless, huh,” he sighs, long fingers sliding under your knee to place it instead on his shoulder. It only debases you even more, struggling to stay upright as he brings his face in between your legs. When you whimper in embarrassment, calling his name, he scoffs. “You should let me play this how I want to, since you clearly don’t know anything.”

The curl of his long fingers brushing up against the soft, spongy part of your walls makes your brain numb. His words hurt. You don’t want them to, you wish they didn’t. “My dumb slut,” he hisses, before the harsh lines of his mouth are buried between your thighs. His tongue sweeps out to deliver a long swipe from his pumping fingers to the top of your slit, before swirling around the nub making you tremble. Your belly tenses, coil in the pit of your stomach growing irritatingly tight as he grinds his face against your pussy, obscenely slurping at the wetness. Your fingers twitch in his fluffy hair, attempting to comb through it best you can as your eyes flutter closed.

“Kuroo, ‘m close. Really close.” You can barely raise your voice enough to make it be heard over his motions, though he looks up at the call of his name. “I want to cum,” you say, “please.” He doesn’t still his fingers, but the twitch in his brows seems to indicate disaster, and you quickly bite your lip to think. “C-Can I?”

“D’you think this is about you, Y/N-chan?” He grins at your blown out expression, relishing in the wide eyes and bobbing lip. He uses his thumb to continue putting pressure on your clit, as he tuts his lips. “I’ll decide if or when you cum, because you’re mine. And when I decide to stuff this cunt you best consider yourself lucky, baby, that my cock is breaking open your perfect, little body.”

“Y-yes, but—” you bring out, ignoring the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You can’t hold it if his fingers only speed up their devouring of your body, mouth wrapping around you to suck hard.

“Don’t cum yet,” he mumbles, going so hard it’s making your vision sway. His tongue and mouth go harder, despite his order. And with mindless pleas you come around his fingers, shutting your eyes tight at the white splotches. Legs flexing and fingers tightening in his hair. You let your head drop as he works you through the feeling, until you’re pushing him off from overstimulation. Your cheeks feel akin to a forest fire when you open your eyes to his huff, tracing the lines of the hardwood floor under your feet. When he pulls his fingers out of you, you can feel some of the slick drip down your thighs and you instantly burn brighter.

But you don’t get to think about it, because Kuroo is straightening up before you, back to his overwhelming posture above you. He stares at you for a moment, before he leans in. Out of instinct, you lean back, away from his face when he wipes it. The glint in his eyes is a scorch mark on your sanity, his face so close to yours. “Can’t you listen to what I say, or are you just that cockhungry and stupid?” Your head is shaking side to side before you can stop it, hoping that you’ll be released soon. But you said you’d help him and if you don’t, Kuroo might hate you. You don’t think you could handle that. Rejection would’ve been better, after all. “Get on your knees and make it up to me.”

You choke back a sob at the order, looking up at him with big eyes again. You don’t want to, you don’t want to sit on the cold floor of the locker room where teenage boys drag their sweaty bodies— Kuroo seems to soften slightly at your expression, lowering his palm to your crown to pat your head, gently brushing over your temple. “You’re my biggest fan, aren’t you?” The low rumble of his voice right next to your face, his warm body so close and the curl of his pretty lips, everything makes you so docile. Dreamlike. “You’re really helping me so much,” he coos, and before you know it his mouth is on yours. His mouth… is on yours. And he tastes like you, and he’s kissing you. You freeze, not stopping him as he grabs your hands and loops them around his neck, his own picking you up to melt into an embrace.

Like two lovers in a painting, he claims your mouth with his tongue and curls your feeble body into him. So strong, with hard lines of his body that make your heart swell under your ribs. His hand on your thigh, the other on your neck, he kisses you and you think the stars might be exploding around you. He pulls back for a moment enough to breathe, before peppering another few kisses on your agape lips until you could turn black and blue from the bruising weight of your adoration. Kuroo brushes your hair away as you look at him, chest heaving against his each swell of your lungs. He starts peeling his lanky body away from you. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought that you were my biggest fan, but if you don’t—”

“No, I am!” you squeak, grabbing onto his jersey to keep his warmth close.

The noirette gives a faint smile, shaking his head. You don’t stop to question him acting so different from before, since your greedy brain clings to every word. “It’s okay,” he mumbles, “I’m used to being taken advantage of by girls.” His eyes shift to the side, lips dropping into a downturn. “They tell me how much they care about me so that I’ll have them, then leave me. I know my teammates are always the favorites anyway. So I understand that you don’t want to do anything more, it’s okay.”

“No Tetsuro, I want to, I swear!” you blurt out, grabbing his large hand despite the jitters in your system. He gives you a slight raise of his eyebrow. “I want to— s-suck you off.”

He chuckles, gaining back some of the brightness to his eyes. “You can’t even say it without stuttering.” The hand on your neck slides to your shoulder, slowly pushing you toward the ground. You hesitate for another moment, before dropping to your knees when the pressure becomes too heavy. When you’re eye level with his shorts, you swallow, bringing up your hands. The fabric is pulled taunt, showing off your effect on him. Ever so slowly, you pull the elastic of the red shorts down, taking his boxers with them in the process. You push them down until his hard cock is freed, curving up towards his belly and twitching with anticipation. Kuroo just bites his lip when you look up at him. “Give it your best shot, baby.”

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, tip glistening with precum. You slowly start moving your hand down his length, but you’re clearly not going fast enough because his hand is back in your hair, yanking you closer to his dick this time. He presses the tip to your lips, and you whimper out as you open your mouth. He’s quick to grab hold of himself to push inside, too quick and stretching you painfully. He’s big and wide and you immediately know you’ll ache once this is done. But as he starts working himself deeper, your eyes fluttering at the feeling and focusing on not choking, he makes pretty grunts that you tell yourself make this worth it. He reaches the back of your throat with plenty to spare, and you bring your hand up to hold yourself on his thigh. It stings.

But he doesn’t stop, even when you whimper around him and push at his leg. “Take it all the way,” he grunts, cocking his head back. The noises you make only make him more vocal, but you’re fighting through the feeling of panic in your chest. Each time he pulls back more saliva messes up your face, keeping Kuroo’s attention on the pretty way you take him. “You think you deserve my attention? My dumb, useless little bitch wants my approval?” He grunts when he hits the back of your throat again. “Because if you can’t even take my cock in your mouth without drooling all over yourself, I don’t think you do deserve it.” He slows his hips when you make a throaty sound, fingers tangled tight in your hair as he pushes in until your nose is pressed to his skin, before letting you back. You gasp for air when you’re finally let up, holding a sob that threatens to crawl out of your throat.

“Kuroo, I can’t,” you bring out, wiping your fingers under your eyes to get rid of any tears, but he doesn’t let go. Your voice is already raspy, grating against your tender throat.

“Yes you can, you’re doing well.” He pushes his cock back to your lips and though you’re more prepared for it this time you’re still shocked by how big he feels. Spit seeps out along the edges of your mouth, tongue being pushed down and your lungs struggling. He moves your head up and down his cock over and over, barely leaving you enough time to take a couple deep breaths. He slowly starts fucking your face when the tears spill over your cheeks and clump your lashes, hissing when you gag on him. “That’s how you suck a cock, idiot. Can’t do anything right without my help, can you?” His words just make you cry more. He bruises your throat until you can’t take any more, pulling out of his grip despite the pain and falling back onto your butt.

“Kuroo,” you cry out, losing control over your own tears. Your voice sounds double, like it’s been split in two. “I don’t like this.” A little squeak falls from your lips, airways painful and ragged. “I want—,” this time you can’t hold back the sob, “I want you to be nice to me.” You sound so pitiful, even to your own ears. You’re crying. But the man you’ve looked up to for so long is calling you all these names, making you feel so dumb. Are you really that dumb for liking him, supporting him, being his fan? “I don’t wanna do any more.” Tears are flowing, wet and warm down your cheeks and neck. Stop, stop crying. You reach a hand up to smear them away, but in their place new ones still come. “Please, I wanna go home.”

“Shh, shhhh,” he hushes, petting the top of your head like you’re a well-behaving pup, and you hate how you lean into it. The idea of yourself makes you sick to your stomach. Why are you even letting him walk all over you like this? Is this really the amount of self respect you have? Kuroo peers down at you between his legs. “You’re doing so well for me. You’re the best fan I could ask for. I’m sure you can take a bit more.”

“No,” you squeak when he reaches for your face again, “it hurts and I don’t like it.”

Kuroo stills. Regards you with a long, drawn-out breath, before humming in what you pray is understanding. “Alright,” he helps you up from the floor, steadying you in his arms and moving you both to one of the benches instead. “I wouldn’t want to hurt my number one fan, would I?” He sits down on the bench first, pulling you to sit on his thighs facing him. You wipe the mess of tears and saliva away as best you can, watching as Kuroo slides you closer to him without a care in the world. And you want to be mad, you want to push off him and do anything other than sit here and take it, but you can’t. You can’t, because you’re weak. You can’t, because you’re an idiot fangirl, and he’s been everything you’ve wanted since you were thirteen.

“Push your legs together,” he orders, squishing your thighs and reaching down to slip his cock in between them. He fucks your legs with the last of his restraint, pace from fast to punishing, kneading the doughy expanse between his fingers and pressing his forehead to your shoulder. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the shudder down his spine and the tensing of his legs below you, but you don’t process it. Everything feels far away. And then he calls out your name, and cums on your thighs, spilling white all over your panties and skin. He kisses your neck, and your lips after that. And you just stare at the tiles of the boys room showers before he slides you off of him.

Your legs tremble. He quickly uses a towel to clean himself up before tucking himself back in, and smiles down at you. “Thank you so much, baby, that was perfect.” He leans down to press a kiss to your temple as he hands you the towel. “Clean up?” The fluffy towel with the red cat embroidered on it is stained with the cum you clean off yourself, as tears roll down your face. You loved him so much, but now you just hate him. Embarrassed, hurt, useless. Kuroo’s bright face as he talks is another slap in yours. “Lighten up, I’ll lock up the gym for you, okay?” He smiles when you lift your eyes to his figure in the doorway, your crumpled skirt bunched in your hand. “And don’t even worry about it, I’ll walk you home. It’s the least I could do for my fan.”

It is the least he could do.

You nod and put up your most convincing smile.

///

thank you so so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed. did this have to be so long? probably not. did i make it that long anyway? yes. mean kuroo will live rent free in my brain for the coming six months.

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basicjetsetter · 3 years

Text

Part IV

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Little angst, Lot of anxiety, Fluff if you squint

▹ Words: 2.8k

▹ A/N: This chapter’s a bit on the short side, but it establishes a lot. Happy reading!

You’re not exactly sure how you pull it off, but you somehow manage to elude Peter for five straight days.

Playing the impromptu game of hide-and-not-be-seen was touch and go for the first two days, mainly because you weren’t sure what time you’d see Peter in the diner’s entrance. All you knew was that he’d show up early, whatever that meant. Almost every chiming bell sent your heart into overdrive, and whenever you thought you saw him, your stomach performed painful somersaults as you mapped out all likely escape routes.

No place in the diner was safe. Hal’s has a pretty simple layout: front entrance, booths to the immediate right, and bar with barstools to the immediate left, all in a shotgun fashion. If one were to try looking for someone, especially from the front entrance, all they’d have to do is marginally widen their field of vision, which is why the first two days were tricky.

The next day after the first run-in, about three hours earlier than his initial arrival, Peter came in through the front door, buddying up with Chris and asking for you.

You were clearing off an unoccupied table, piling dirty plates, when Chris called out, “Hey! How’s it hanging, Peter?” With the stack of dishes still clenched in your hands, you dropped down and crawled under the booth, coming face to face with an unsavory assortment of chewed-up gum underneath the table, holding your breath for dear life. Peter stayed for about ten agonizingly treacherous minutes as Chris failed to locate you.

On the second day, a sluggish Tuesday morning with only four regular patrons at the bar and no one in the booths, Peter had just walked through the entrance as you were coming out of the back, hand-carrying three of Hal’s famous Thin Mint Milkshakes. Without a thought, you spun right around and dashed in the opposite direction, busting through the employee door and colliding straight into Wendy. You’d never seen someone throw such a fit, but then again, you’d be pretty pissed too if someone coated you head-to-toe in milkshake.

That day was… eventful, to say the least, but it gifted you with the best estimate for Peter’s arrivals. Early meant 11:30 a.m. on the dot. Lunch. You tested out the time the next day, waiting behind the employee door and peering out the medium-sized port window. At 11:30 a.m., right on cue, was Peter, dapping Chris and ordering a slice of Banana Cream Pie to-go while also asking for your whereabouts, staying for only half an hour.

He left you a note each time he departed.

Can’t seem to catch you. I’ll try again tomorrow :) – Peter

Is this not a good time for you? I’ll stop by later if you want – Peter

Is everything alright? Text or call anytime you need me. I’ll be there – Peter

From the second note on, you found yourself captivated by his neat little scrawl and the way he always signed his name at the end, as if you’d forget it was him. You’d read them on your way home and right before falling asleep, trying and failing not to picture him smiling at you while you absent-mindedly smiled at his words.

Your friendly boy-next-door is so easy to fall for, but you just can’t do it. You can’t allow yourself to fall. Nobody would be there to pick you back up.

Some nights, you lied awake drafting a message that would effectively convince Peter that things wouldn’t work between you, that you’re a lost cause, and he should probably find some other connection if such a thing exists. But then, unfailingly, you’d think about his concerned little notes and sadly acknowledge that he deserves more than a measly text. After showing up to Hal’s for almost a whole week just to get to know you, Peter deserves the truth.

Your heart is not ready for a Soulmate, and it might not ever be.

By the fifth day, you spend a good chunk of time pondering over the right words to say to Peter while simultaneously hiding in the kitchen, pretending to prepare more fries. You never looked forward to hiding from him, but what other option did you have? Going out there and letting your coworkers and boss know he’s your Soulmate? They wouldn’t shut up about it, especially not Chris, the open romantic.

When your shift ended that day, and you walked up to Chris so he could hand you Peter’s fifth note, he emphatically shook his head.

“On behalf of my new friend, Peter, I can’t in good faith give this to you,” he stated, tucking the folded paper into his back pocket and crossing his arms. “Not until you tell me why you’re dodging him.”

You frowned, crossing your arms too. “It’s really none of your business, Chris.”

“True, but it’s his.” The little dig got to you, making you wince. Chris continued softly, “Look, he won’t tell me what’s up with you two, either. And, trust me, I've asked. It's just... I’m kinda involved now, being the messenger and all, so shouldn’t I know some of the situation?”

“No…?” you hedged.

Chris didn’t budge.

You couldn’t think of a lie on the spot, and a half-truth would only further complicate things. Treading the fine line of what’s too much information and what’s not enough left you frustratingly tongue-tied. What’s specific enough to still be vague? Chris stared at you expectantly with a petulant little lift in his brow, ignoring a customer’s disgruntled calls for a refill in the napkin dispenser.

In the end, you huffed out a resigned breath and hesitantly admitted, “Peter's someone I knew from high school—a really nice guy.” For Chris’s benefit, you added, “He just likes to check up on me every now and then. You know how I don’t get out that much…”

And in a heartbeat, Chris morphed from a tough enquirer to a softened pile of dough, sagely nodding his head as if he knew all too well how reserved you are and how much of a losing battle it is persuading you to venture out. Or maybe it was because he understood how difficult it is to reconnect with people you unwilfully lost touch with for five years.

How everything and everyone fell right back into step with everyday life, like five years was just five minutes, continues to boggle your mind. It’s not normal. You won’t ever pretend that it is.

The disgruntled man shouted, “Can I get any damn service around here?”

Chris immediately broke from the conversation and left you behind the bar, off to go charm the customer’s socks off and earn a nice $10 tip even though he clocked out ten minutes ago.

You went on your way home, the ever-present anxiety of confronting Peter growing by the second.

Hours later, dressed down to your pajamas and reading his words over again, you’re still thinking about it, dread now gnawing on your insides.

You couldn’t even enjoy your newfound peace of mind. Ever since the voice stopped, Peter twined into all of your thoughts: his notes, his visits, his smile, your connection to him. There had to be a reason why destiny paired you. Besides being your Soulmate, what is he to you? What are you to him?

Unrest barred you from sleep for most of the night, and when you woke up the next morning, showered and ready to tackle another day, it hit you.

It’s Saturday—your day off this week—and you’re not scheduled to go back to work until Monday.

You could put off telling him… but what would be the point? It’d only prolong the inevitable. You needed to come clean today.

Picking up your phone, you steadily tap in his memorized cell number, then type:

-Hey Peter, it’s Y/N. Can you come by my place? We need to talk.

Three minutes later, he texts back.

-On my way.

✦ ✧✦ ✧

A nice, early summer breeze billows around you, doing its best to calm down your erratic nerves as you wait for Peter on the roof.

Are you doing the right thing?

Will Peter be okay with this?

What if he isn’t?

You jump out of your skin at the muffled Thwip and sudden appearance of Peter standing a few feet away.

His chestnut hair is windswept, and he’s wearing regular clothes, a faded blue Midtown High hoodie and denim jeans. You weren’t sure why you expected him to come dressed in his suit. It could be because you heard the sound of his web-slinger first and immediately thought of Spider-Man, but it’s more likely that your brain hasn’t connected that they are one and the same. You don’t see Spider-Man when you see him. All you see is Peter.

He’s tense, not moving an inch closer and keeping his shoulders pinched up like he’s on the defense. You can’t guess why he would be.

Gulping down a hard lump lodged in your throat, you stutter, “H-hi.”

He gives you a polite smile that doesn’t reach his sullen eyes. “Hey”

You both begin at the same time.

“Peter, I—”

“Look, Y/N—”

Ice floods your stomach, freezing your veins and squeezing your pounding heart. He has something to say to you? About what? You subtly jerk your head up, signaling for him to speak first.

Peter clears his throat, looks down at his shoes, then back up at you. “I know you’ve been hiding from me.”

“You do?” you squeak, eyes wide.

“Yeah, and it’s okay.”

Your voice hikes an octave. “It is?”

He nods. “Yeah. It’s fine. I get it.” He stops to scratch the back of his neck and dejectedly rambles on, “I’m not the safest person to be around, and it’s all super weird and a lot to take in. Like, a lot. My Aunt May freaked out too when she found out. Anyway, I… I get it if you don’t, y’know, don’t want me.”

“Wait, hold on,” you interrupt, trying to wrap your head around what he said. “You think… you think I don’t want you because you’re Spider-Man?”

“Well, yeah.” He says it like there couldn’t be any other possible reason.

You lower your gaze to the ground, unable to meet his curious gaze. “No, Peter, that’s not it.” Tears prick your eyes, but you fight like hell to keep them from falling. Steeling yourself, you quietly confess, “It’s me. I can’t be your Soulmate because…” A rebellious tear rolls down your cheek. “Because I’m not ready.”

As soon as you spoke the truth out loud, laying yourself and your broken soul bare, you dimly sense the previously severed string quiver deep down inside your chest. It’s the first time you felt it in five years, and it’s not how you remember it. It’s not severed, but it’s not whole either. Its presence only reminds you of what you can’t have, what you aren’t ready for.

In the ensuing quiet, you swipe the tear off your cheek and look at everything except Peter. Yellow tulips are blooming on someone’s balcony in the neighboring apartment building. A handful of fluffy clouds float in the piercing blue sky. An orange tabby cat is sun-bathing in a window.

It’s such a beautiful day. Yet, here you are, struggling not to cry on a roof.

Peter breaks through the silence, murmuring, “To be honest, I’m not ready either.”

“Really?” You ask, a little too hopeful, bringing your eyes back to his. They look so weary yet resolute.

“Yeah. I was actually freaking out that night we met.” He timidly grins, and your heart flips. “I didn’t know what to say, then I screwed up and forgot to ask if you were okay after I had literally just saved you from falling. Not really a glowing first impression.”

Astonishing yourself, you laugh. You couldn’t help it. There was absolutely nothing remotely hilarious about that night, but the way Peter described it, as if it were a blunder solely on his part, was so ridiculous that it was funny. Peter joins in, too, his laugh coming out airy and wondrously addictive. That smile you couldn’t stop thinking about for a whole week brightens his face.

When the laughs fade, Peter soberly says, “Even if we aren’t ready, maybe we can try being friends, just to see where things go? I mean, we were meant to be together for a reason, right? This could be it.”

You unconsciously nibble on your lower lip, considering his proposal. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might want to be friends. Would you want to do that? These days, you aren’t really open to platonic relationships, and Soulmate or not, being in a friendship would require some sort of connection. You don’t like those much.

Be that as it may, Peter seems like the type to respect your many boundaries, and that’s exactly what you would prefer in a friend at the moment. Someone who doesn’t pry. Someone who doesn’t uphold generic expectations. You could go for a diner talk every once in a while.

Besides, it’s just a little friendship. Most are surface level, and some don’t even last a year. What’s the worst that could happen?

You sincerely smile at Peter, wondering about the last time your smiles were sincere, and say, “Okay. Let’s be friends.”

His face radiates joy. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I think we can do that. But I have a few terms.”

Peter eagerly nods, waiting.

You try not to focus on how his happiness thrills you. “One, don’t tell anyone we’re Soulmates. I don’t really want any of my coworkers to know.”

His smile drops into a sheepish wince. “I kinda already told Ned. But he won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“That’s okay. It’s mostly my coworkers I’m worried about,” you reassure. You weren’t going to berate him for telling his best friend. If things were different, you’d have done the same. “Two, don’t ask me to hang out with your other friends. I don’t do big friend circles.”

“Got it,” he militantly nods again. “It’s mostly just Ned and me anyway.”

“And three,” your grin broadens. “If Chris asks you what’s going on between us, be super vague.”

“Done.” He smirks back at you, then extends his hand. “Friends?”

When your hand touches his, and you shake on it, the warmth of his palm thaws out all your remaining anxiety. “Friends.”

✦ ✧✦ ✧

When Monday rolls around, a tiny ball of doubt weighs you down.

It’s not that you were afraid of talking to Peter. You were actually looking forward to getting to know him now that you officially became friends. It’s the future you’re stuck on. What happens if you get too attached to this friendship and want more? What if friendship is all he wants? What if it’s the other way around?

If you were honest with yourself, you’d know which way the gage is leaning, and it’s not in your favor.

You’re cleaning off the bar top when Peter comes in, doing his usual greeting with Chris before settling down on a barstool in front of you. He’s a little high strung, leaning his chin on his hand, then thinking against it, only to do it again. It was oddly comforting to know that he was overthinking too.

The corners of your lips tug up in a soft smile. “Hi, Peter.”

Your face warms as he smiles back. “Hey, Y/N.”

Chris barges in, leaning his elbows on the bar top and gaping incredulously at you and Peter. “Woah, woah, woah! Did I miss something? Since when are you two speaking in public?”

Peter checks his watch. “About thirty-seven seconds ago.”

“Oh, come on, dude. At least tell me what happened.”

You and Peter share a knowing look like two conniving co-conspirators sharing an inside joke, and you giggle as Chris huffs in annoyance. He glumly storms off when you two stay hushed, muttering, “Fine, next time you need a middle-man, count me out.”

“Does he hold grudges?” Peter asks after Chris walks out of earshot.

You’re still shaking with giggles. “Not at all. He’ll be back to his happy self in less than an hour.”

Peter only stays at Hal’s for twenty-five minutes, but they were the funniest and most intriguing twenty-five minutes you ever worked.

The conversation began slowly at first, but each question loosened the formalities. Peter asked about easy things: when did you get into art, when did you start working at Hal’s, and when was your birthday, all while digging into his slice of pie. He caught on fast enough to know the topic of parents was off-limits, and he thankfully chose to stay away from any talk of the blip.

When you asked him questions, he was open and responsive, jumping at the chance to talk about his passion for bio-sciences and Star Wars, sometimes covertly mentioning some of the duties he has a Spider-Man. Not a minute was wasted. You talked while serving customers and cleaning tables, keeping up the joke of staying quiet when Chris tried to meddle.

It all turned out smoother than you expected. Almost too smooth, and you’re not sure if that’s good or bad.

You are sure about one thing, though. You like having Peter as a friend.

...

Part V

#peter parker #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #spider-man x black!reader #spider-man x reader #soulmate au #post endgame #pre far from home #peter parker soulmate au #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #marvel fanfic #black!reader #slow burn #how to trust a heart #peter parker fluff

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strosmkai-rum · 4 years

Text

ADDITIONAL DRAGON SHOUT USE HEADCANONS

note: these are headcanons for the use of shouts by dragons. also known as, bethesda, i KNOW dragons know more shouts than the three or four they use in game. so here. every shout covered.

- fire breath. oh. oh.

- okay but definitely fire breath shouts have different colors like to show how hot/strong the flame is

- a really bright red that sputters a lot or catches in their throat means that they don't quite understand the meaning yet, and it'll take more meditation/practise before they can get a constant orange stream of fire

- so we know how fire breath looks in game. it's a stream of orange flame. well i raise you:

- the fire will burn hotter and change color (red to orange to white to light blue, see the charts abt fire color or something idk what they called), and even stagger the user if it's too strong.

- very, very strong fire breath shouts have the impact of unrelenting force, so first they destroy anything in their way with the sheer impact and anything else is melted by an actual stream of lava/that shit is definitely not fire at that point, lava's the only comparison i have even if lava not blue-

- i fucking hate that in game if you use fire breath on a rock it'll like, be burnt only. enough understanding of fire breath and you can turn anything into slag.

- fire is just so cool. maybe some dragons like roasted meat, like huge scaly gordon ramsays. maybe they shout at some ground so they have a warm place to sleep. it’s canon that it’s greeting though, so a weak fire breath to say hello not friend, i will not roast you alive and instead slightly warm you.

- frost breath. a stream of icy wind IN GAME. not really here, though. i agree that it’s something like an icy wind, but has extreme power and force behind it, and while fire breath will roast you, frost breath will just plain fuck you up if you try to hold your ground. you won’t get the chance to be frozen, you’ll just go flying.

- weak understandings make a really cold breath. sort of how in winter you can see your breath? yeah, that’s a weak frost breath.

- strong understandings will cause most things to frost over. it has the effect of a weaker ice form, but with a lot more versatility.

- both fire breath and frost breath are commonly used in sweeping motions, as opposed to focusing on one target. let’s face it, what kind of a human can stand up to even half a second of that? it’s a lot more efficient in taking out big groups, or destroying the terrain to give them a disadvantage.

- ice everywhere. that is all.

- ice form now, hehe. so! don’t try to block it. your shield or arm is gonna get cast in ice and be useless/immediately shatter. yeah, that’s right. you don’t thaw out of an ice form, you explode. into lots of frozen pieces.

- but, let’s say, you don’t like my exploding hc. that’s fine. i raise you, person frozen in a solid chunk of ice that would put the sea of ghosts to shame. they not gonna thaw out in time to be saved. sorry. no escape.

- call dragon is used when, you know, calling other dragons. other dragons know other dragons, so it’s either a challenge, or a call for help. or, in paarthurnax’s case, bro i just wanted to talk nO DONT SHOUT-

- being called for aid in a battle is an honor and a sign of trust between dragons imo, shows that you trust them enough to cover you when you need aid and that they’re strong enough to pull you out of whatever crap you’re in.

- storm call. beautiful. it's control over kynareth's domain, so yeah, kind of an ego boost. but also mad useful in a fight, striking down your opponents with lightning. dragon's can't fly while using this, as a bolt could hit them instead. and oh boy, they're strong. can easily tear a whole through a wing or break a plate.

- clear skies is funny too. can you imagine a heavy downpour and some dragon’s trying to sleep without the ground turning to slush, so he just shouts the storm out of the skyr? incredible. just as storm call can summon one, clear skies gets rid of it. the stronger shout prevails. but use it enough times in succession, and kyne might get a bit pissed off…

- oh, i can def see drain vitality used after a rough battle, dragon needs healing stat so they find a crowded area/a big animal and steal their life force. an easy way to heal up.

- dismay would be used with battles against huge numbers of people/a literal army. it’s sort of like mind control, but you can only control the effect, and that’s about it. make them scared and stuff. for some people, they’ll turn tail and run. others maybe hesitate. others don’t care. won’t work against akaviri though. stoicism and all. or other dragons.

- cyclone would be hella useful against big groups. great for sowing chaos.

- disarm. ah yes. used, quite often, in battles with worthy opponents. say an akaviri. say some words, and their katana goes flying. it’s a great intimidation tactic. oh, try to hold onto it too, and you can easily snap your wrist or fingers.

- and i say worthy opponents, as in "mortals that were specifically trained to fight dragons/are incredibly powerful, not your average soldier".

- marked for death, oh i like this. so the wiki description is that the opponent’s life force and armor are weakened. can you imagine battling a dragon, they shout at you, and suddenly your armor just...starts disintegrating? like there’s holes forming, straps holding armor plates together disintegrating entirely, and any wounds you have are opening up like chasms. it’s devastating. used against a dragon, their scales start to grow brittle and weak, so it's a lot easier to break a plate.

- slow time, ah, this would be a huge huge ego boost. time’s akatosh’s domain. it doesn’t stop for anyone, but maybe it’ll slow down a bit for dragons.

- hc that dragons are not affected by slow time. they’re fragments of akatosh, the time god. they sure won’t slow down. neither will the db. so imagine one of them uses slow time, and suddenly there’s this normal paced battle one on one, with everything else at a standstill/veeery slow, until time catches up and everyone but them. is so out of it and jaded bc humans can’t really comprehend time, they’ve like a hundred years at most (hc that bretons live slightly longer due to slight mer blood). elves have a more firm grasp of it, esp altmer. yeah, yeah, they’ve a right to brag here.

- additional thoughts, maybe stuff affected by slow time either:

1. has normal running thoughts but physically is slowed down (not very probable imo, but still possible)

2. has both slowed consciousness and physical form (most probable)

- bend will. aha. now this, works on the dragonborn as well as other dragons. it’s pretty much mind control. you need a strong willpower to break free, though.

- unrelenting force. nice. it is strong. trees are easily uprooted. boulders fly. people fly too. no matter who you are, though, always brace yourself before using it, because you could go flying too.

- dragons won't get thrown back too far, but maybe they'll jump back or take flight for a second before landing again.

- dragonrend. no. they’re mad scared of it. mad scared. partially the reason they hate and fear akaviri. a dragon can’t comprehend dragonrend, because it’s mortality in a shout. and for most of them, what they don’t understand, they fear.

- whirlwind sprint is interesting to say the least. so, the db can use it and...run really fast? so how does it work for dragons? they can't run, per se, so here's my take.

- maybe dragons can use it while flying. probably super useful in aerial combat with other dragons. it lets them quickly dodge shouts, change direction unpredictably, and stay out of their reach.

- become ethereal, oh, oh. just, can you imagine a fucking dragon turns blue during a fight and suddenly you can’t hurt them? heehoo. it’s not used very often, as become ethereal's best used when you’re not doing too hot and need to heal up a second. not much can get them to that point. but it’d be so funny though.

- aura whisper isn’t very commonly used, actually. dragons have incredible sight and smell, they’d probably sense anyone way before they could approach. by the way bethesda, what’s that thing called “i can sneak up on a dragon?” yeah, no. you can’t.

- kyne’s peace, maybe if they’re really not having it with the local wildlife and just want to nap in peace. but i don’t think that many bears or wolves will threaten a dragon.

- animal allegiance isn’t used much either; they’ve no use for the local flora. there’s not much stronger than a dragon. maybe sometimes they use it to acknowledge kyne’s gifts, and that animals/nature can be worthy allies..

- elemental fury is kind of an ehh, skyrim says it lets you swing faster. maybe it lets them fly faster/use teeth/talons/wing claws faster? i'd imagine it's only applicable to physical attacks, though.

- battle fury’s a maybe. it’s for allies, and i don’t think there were too many references in game about dragons being super close with each other. i could definitely be wrong though. they do call themselves brothers and sisters, but maybe it’s just a shared blood thing.

- throw voice is practically useless in game. dragons wouldn't want to hide anyways, unless grievously wounded.

- soul tear i'd imagine only durnehviir knows, and for good reasons too.

- call of valor isn’t here, for obvious reasons.

- dragon aspect i wouldn't think, as it's meant for the db to take on a draconic aspect. can't get much more draconic than an actual dragon.

- alduin’s meteor storm shout isn’t actually a shout, mans just roars.

- alduin’s shout to resurrect dragons i’d assume would only be known by him, and other dragons are unable to comprehend the meaning of the shout. so, the words of the shout are slen (flesh), tiid (time), vo (un, like the prefix). so has his own grip on time, and can use it to bring dragons back to life, provided they still have their soul.

- look, there’s gotta be a better explanation as to why other dragons can’t use it. maybe they can use it. but then the ability bring other dragons back to life would be so widespread, the dragon war probably would have ended a lot sooner and not with the outcome we wanted. so maybe only alduin truly understands the meaning of death and rebirth, having destroyed the world many times before, only to be reborn with it and repeating the cycle again and again.

- universal hc that lots of words in dragon speech can be used in different shouts with interchangeable meanings.

you’re at the end. good. listen here. journalism class is on my ass about articles and shit. i’m going to be busy from now. i had some stuff to slowly give to you guys to give me time to make more, but i caved and released them all at once. give me some time. please. sorry if these weren’t quite up to par with my last ones, but i said “hey, imma release two thing today” and it’s12:08 am here.

can you tell i’m super tired? i wrote like half of these half asleep.

#skyrim #tes #dragon #shouts #magic #lore #headcanons #my headcanons

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catfe-overlord · 4 years

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Whumptober 2020

Day 5: “Where Do You Think You’re Going?”

On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

::Some villains trap Kirishima and use him as a test dummy for a quirk-enhancing drug. They make a monstrous discovery...

••••••••••••

“Crap, crap, crap, crap!”

Kirishima’s head whipped around in every direction, but there was no escape. He was trapped, the only way out being the way he’d come, which was now blocked off by the gang of thugs he’d lured here.

Stupid, rookie mistake. He ran right into an alley while trying to lead the villains away from the crowded area, only to meet a dead end of tall brick walls. There was no hope in climbing over them, no way through.

At least there were no civilians around. No one to get hurt.

No heroes either, to his dismay. Normally he would’ve been fine in a situation like this, but he’d used up his quirk in a previous fight only minutes before he and Suneater ran into these guys.

“Uh oh, kid,” said the villain with an impossibly long neck. “Looks like you’re outnumbered. And if my eyes don’t deceive me, your quirk ain’t holdin’ up so well.”

Crap! What do I do? What do I do?? he thought frantically. He was up four to one, no sign of Fat Gum or Suneater coming to his rescue. These guys were huge, and there was no beating them in a fight without his quirk.

He was screwed.

One of the other villains, this one with flaming blue hair, laughed from his belly, “He looks like he’s about to wet himself!”

Okay, ouch. That only managed to piss Kirishima off, and he felt a new wave of adrenaline rush through him. He hardened his skin, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. He surged forward, planning to take these guys out as fast as possible.

It didn’t last more than a few punches. He felt one of the villain’s fists connect with his cheek, the force of it rattling through his brain. He fell back onto his rear end, scrambling to get away from another hit. A few more like that and he’d be out of commission.

The tallest of the men stepped forward, but the other with a wickedly long goatee stopped him with a hand to the chest. “C’mon, guys. Kid can’t even activate his quirk.”

The one with the long neck pulled a gun from his back pocket, and Kirishima’s heart nearly stopped beating. The man smiled wickedly. “How about we help him out?”

Huh?

“Oh, this is gonna be entertaining,” said the tall villain.

No one made any attempts to stop him as he aimed the gun for Kirishima and fired.

The bullet struck the hero-in-training on the shoulder. The pain was intense, but it wasn’t what he’d expected. It didn’t pass through like he’d imagined a bullet at nearly point blank range would, but instead lodged into his skin. He quickly reached up and yanked it out, finding a needle at the tip.

They’d injected him with something. Shit, they injected him with some foreign drug!

If he hadn’t been panicking before, he definitely was now. He remembered the time Suneater had been shot with a similar gun filled with quirk-dampening bullets. Could this be anything like that time? That wouldn’t make sense. Kirishima couldn’t use his quirk now as it was. This was something else.

He jumped to his feet, immediately woozy. The world started to shift around him unnaturally, warping and twisting and wrong wrong wrong.

He felt his skin go rigid as it hardened against his will. His entire body hardened and it didn’t stop. He felt himself go Unbreakable, go beyond that. His body was changing, expanding, growing until he stood a foot taller than any of the villains.

“Kid’s a total monster, dude,” said the man with flaming hair. His expression was twisted into a smile, impressed with their work. “This is gonna be the perfect distraction.”

Kirishima tried to speak, to ask what they’d done to him, but all that escaped his mouth was a series of harsh, cracked sounds. Even his tongue had hardened under the drug’s effects.

He tried to take a step forward, but he wasn’t accustomed to such a large, heavy body and it sent him right to the ground. The men all stepped back, laughing hysterically.

“Come on, guys,” said the man with the goatee. He was wiping a tear from his eye after laughing so hard. “We’d better get out of here before the cops show up.”

“Let’s go find a good spot to watch the show.”

“Man, I wonder if they’ll even recognize him.”

They all darted out of the alleyway, leaving Kirishima behind. He pushed himself back to his feet, taking an unsteady step forward, then another. He barreled out into the street, into daylight where people could see him, and all hell broke loose.

A woman screamed at the sight of him. A car swerved to avoid him as he stumbled around, dazed, confused and terrified. He cried out for help, but instead it sounded like a roar that ripped through his throat. Bystanders on the sidewalks fled in horror.

Kirishima continued up the street, searching desperately for Suneater. He’d recognize Red Riot, right?

Instead he found himself up against Kamui Woods. The hero swung in using his branches, dropping ten feet in front of Kirishima.

“You’re done terrorizing these civilians, villain!” the hero stated. “I suggest you back down now before things get ugly.”

Before things get ugly?!

Kirishima shook his head, hoping Woods would understand he wasn’t looking for a fight, but the action only resulted in disorienting the teenager more. His vision tunneled, his ears rang, and he toppled into a parked vehicle, crushing it.

Branches wrapped around his body, trapping his arms against him. They travelled down to secure his legs, and he fell onto his side heavily, cracking the cement ground.

“I’M NOT A VILLAIN! I’M NOT A VILLAIN!” he tried to tell him, but his voice just wasn’t his own. He truly sounded like a monster.

“Hey, calm down!” Kamui Woods was saying from somewhere off to his left. “We can’t understand you. Slow down. Use your words.”

Kirishima couldn’t breathe. He was panicking. What if he was stuck in this body forever?! He’d been turned into a monster and no one recognized him and he couldn’t speak and they thought he was a villain and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t—

He effectively burst through the branches, freeing himself. Before Woods could trap him in another flurry of branches, Kirishima climbed to his feet and ran in the other direction. He needed to get away, find somewhere quiet where he could figure this out.

He barreled down the street, vision tunneling dangerously, looking for anywhere he could hide, any escape route he could take. There was nothing big enough for him to hide behind, nowhere without onlookers to give him away.

If he could just make it back to UA. It wasn’t far from here, only six blocks! He could make that, right?

He made it five blocks before Fat Gum appeared from around a street corner, blocking his route back to the school. “Hey, big guy! Where do ya think you’re goin’?”

“Fat Gum!” he cried. His voice came out a crackle of unintelligible sounds.

Suneater appeared beside him. “Stop, villain! Hey, wait—!”

Kirishima didn’t wait. He bolted past the two, neither trying to stop him much to his surprise. When he looked back at them, they were hot on his tail, probably having just overcome their temporary stupor.

Kirishima stumbled into the side of a building as he tried to round a corner, crumbling a hefty chunk of the brick wall. Crap, he was messing everything up! He was going to get arrested for destruction, let alone fleeing the scene and evading heroes!

He burst through UA’s gates, no alarms blaring because thankfully he remembered to grab his student pass! He was practically home free!

And there was Bakugou, Midoriya and a few others crossing the lawn not thirty yards away. They must have just finished the training they’d been working on together, trying out some new special moves. Bakugou was walking ahead while Midoriya chattered on about something behind him. Then the blond looked Kirishima’s way.

Kirishima froze. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t want his boyfriend to see him this way. He was a monster, and it’d hurt too much if Bakugou didn’t recognize him. He wanted to curl into a ball and hide.

Bakugou dropped his bag and started running at him. “Kirishima!” Bakugou called out. Kirishima panicked—didn’t know what to do—so he stood there, utterly frozen, and started to cry.

It was so unmanly, but he was scared to death he was going to be stuck as this monster the rest of his life. Bakugou wouldn’t want to be with some giant freak with sharp ridges for skin who couldn’t even say his own name.

“Red Riot!” called Fat Gum behind him. He didn’t turn to look, but he was sure Suneater was with him. Great, all the people he admired most were witnessing him a crying mess.

At least they knew it was him and didn’t think some monster had infiltrated the school again. Everyone circled him, the rest of the class joining Bakugou’s side, unsure what to do about their monstrous classmate in front of them.

“Kirishima…” Bakugou breathed. He stepped forward, approaching Kirishima slowly. “What the hell happened?”

Kirishima yelled, “Stop! Don’t come any closer!” but no one understood. They couldn’t understand. Even if he could speak properly, he was crying too hard to make sense.

Bakugou continued forward until he stood feet away from the hulking monster that was his boyfriend. “Shitty Hair...”

“Bakugou, don’t get any closer!” yelled Cementoss, who was just approaching the group. “He could be dangerous.”

“We don’t know his mental state,” Fat Gum backed the teacher up. “I know Red usually wouldn’t hurt a fly, but we don’t really know what we’re dealing with here.”

“It’s okay,” Bakugou said, not to the heroes but to his boyfriend, his best friend. He held an arm out, his fingers brushing the sharp, rigid skin. “I don’t know what happened, but it’ll be okay, Kirishima. Crying is manly too.”

Kirishima fell to his knees, an absolute mess of sobs. Even at this level, he was still taller than Bakugou, but that didn’t seem to bother the blond. He grabbed Kirishima’s massive hand and held it up, rubbing smooth circles against his palm, cutting his own soft hands against Kirishima’s hard edges.

“It’ll be okay, Ei,” he continued in the softest voice Kirishima had ever heard from him. “You’ll be fine. Promise.”

Then Kirishima felt it, like a spasm jerk through his body. His skin hurt and his brain went foggy and he felt so suddenly weightless. Bakugou got taller—no, he got smaller as he shrank back to his normal size.

His body felt like jelly and his legs wouldn’t support him, as light as he was versus moments ago. Bakugou had to catch him before he went crashing down.

He clung to Bakugou’s shirt, trying desperately to hold himself up, but he was just too weak after such an exhausting ordeal.

“Glad to have you back,” Bakugou smiled down at the boy in his arms.

Kirishima wanted to kiss him so bad, but he knew it wasn’t the right time or place. He could barely keep his eyes open as it was.

“Red! You’re okay?” Fat Gum asked from his other side. “What happened?”

“I-I’m fine,” he managed, voice gravelly and raw. His throat hurt, still felt like there was a marble lodged in it from crying so hard. “Those villains… they shot me… with some quirk-enhancing bullets.”

Cementoss and Fat Gum shared a look. The two pros would have to report this, and Kirishima would have to give a statement to the police.

After he got some rest. As his eyes drifted shut, he reminded himself to tell Bakugou how fucking lucky he was to have him as soon as he woke up.

••••••••••••

I hate this but I also love this ?? I had a lot of fun writing this but it’s weird and it could’ve been written a lot better if I didn’t rush so bad. I’m almost two days late! And I have yet to write today’s prompts and there’s only two hours left of the day! Grrrr !

I have days 6 & 7 already planned out, I just have to write em. I think they’ll be rather short fics, so I apologize now. It’s the only way I can catch up! Haha

Read previous day here