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inkykeiji · 4 years

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do i make you scared? baby won’t you take me back

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, shigaraki tomura

genre: smut with a bit of angst sprinkled over it

notes: the second part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back. i’m really not kidding when i say this is almost entirely smut. uhhh virgin!tomura is a nasty nasty boy, please please please heed the warnings and stay safe! <3 | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), non-consensual branding (yes, branding in the sense that something is being burned into the skin), noncon/dubcon, dacryphilia, cheating, degradation/dumbification, emotional manipulation, cumplay/snowballing, cockwarming, size difference, generally toxic relationships

words: 7.1k

synopsis:

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

To your surprise, you spend the rest of your night the day after the party texting Tomura, and every time your screen lights up with a message from him, it sends a whole flock of butterflies fluttering in your tummy. You should feel guilty, really, but you’ve never been in a situation like this before and it’s…exhilarating.

It’s risky, answering these texts when Touya’s a mere few feet from you, but it sends sparks shooting up your spine, the idea of getting caught doing something you’re definitely not supposed to, the very thought of how upset he’d be if he knew, making you feel giddy.

You guard your phone closely for the rest of the week, deleting messages exactly after you send them—Touya has taken it and gone through it in the past, so it wasn’t far-fetched to think he may try to do the same thing again. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice your nose in your phone, little giggles bubbling up from your chest as you responded to whatever was on the screen. You can see it in his eyes, the frustration building each and every time a soft laugh escapes your lips, eyes glimmering as you tap out a response.

You plan your impending visit strategically, in tandem with Tomura. He knows Touya’s unpredictable and seemingly ever-changing schedule better than you do, and you both know that there’s absolutely no way in hell Touya would ever willingly let you hang out with each other—he barely leaves the two of you alone when Tomura comes over to your house, so you can only imagine how livid he’d be if you even asked to go spend some time with him, just the two of you.

You wear your prettiest dress—Touya’s favourite dress, a deep, satiny crimson—two inches too short to be considered proper, the hem brushing your midthigh. It hides a pair of baby pink cotton panties you’re sure Tomura will like.

Your veins thrum with the combined mix of terror and anticipation as he lets you in, and the heady combination has your entire body trembling. Tomura gives you a look as you kick your shoes off, eyes narrowed as they scan your body.

“You comin’ down or something?”

“I-I’m not allowed drugs,” you admit meekly, eyes falling to your feet, toes wiggling a bit.

Tomura snorts, an amused little smirk on his lips as he mutters, “No, of course not,”

Long, slender fingers wrap around your wrist, his cold touch making you jump, giving a slight yank as he begins leading you. He lives alone, in an apartment his father pays for—which is surprisingly much tidier than you expected—and you can’t help but look around curiously, eager to learn more about him, glazed eyes searching for hints in the empty takeout containers littering the counter, in the few articles of clothing strewn around the place.

Brows knit together when he bypasses his bedroom completely—the door wide open to reveal a large bed with blue sheets tangled at the bottom—and leads you to a living room with plush couches and an ornate rug you’re positive he didn’t pick out by himself. His fingers release, and he plops down on the floor, hands curling around a gaming controller. Scarlet eyes drift to you, up your legs and to your face, and you resist the urge to shiver under his intense gaze—you’re sure he can see straight up your dress from this angle.

But he does nothing except look at you expectantly, not breaking his stare until you finally sit down next to him, daintily tucking your knees under yourself.

Then he’s shoving an extra controller at you almost aggressively, the sudden motion pulling a gasp from your throat, making you flinch away.

“Relax,” he rolls his eyes, pushing the controller at you again and shaking it a little in his hand, trying to entice you to take it. “I’m not gonna hurt you, or anything,”

“You…You’re—what?”

Tomura observes you carefully, scrutinizing now, eyes narrowing a little as they scan your face. You stare back at him dumbly, lips slightly parted. “What?” he snaps.

“But I thought—I mean, I want you to—”

“What?”

“That came out wrong,” you rush to say, shutting your eyes tightly in embarrassment. “What I mean is…Um, didn’t I come over so we can like, fuck?” your cheeks burn as you force the words out, ears ringing as blood rushes to your face, so loud you almost miss his sharp intake of breath.

Tomura’s eyes widen and he stares at you for a long moment before he checks his phone, scrolling through your messages. “You said…You wanted to play video games?”

You look at him, blinking in astonishment. “And you believed that?”

Tomura frowns a little, eyebrows knitting, slightly defensive. “Well, yeah?”

You’re at a loss for words as you stare back at the man sitting cross-legged in front of you, watching you closely. This is the guy Touya so desperately didn’t want you to be around?

Powerless to stop the little giggle that bubbles up in your throat, you inch towards him on your knees. “You’re kinda cute, y’know?”

Soft notes of tiger orchid and sweet sticky toffee waft over him, your body heat clinging to his skin as you settle beside him, thigh touching his knee. He seethes at you, and his fingers twitch around the controller, a hand moving to rake his nails against his neck.

You reach out, little fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling it away from his flesh.

“Do you want to?” you ask softly, gazing at him through your lashes, bringing his palm to rest over your breast.

“Are you stupid?” he spits, fingers instantly tightening the moment they meet satin, the strength of his grip making you gasp. “Of course I fucking want to. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off to you? Christ,”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at the confession, sparking a dull heat that begins to spread deep in the pit of your stomach. You’re flattered, even though you can hear Touya’s voice in the back of your mind, sharp and condescending, reprimanding you for being so easy.

“Yeah? What did you think about?” Your voice quivers a little as you ask the question, but that doesn’t stop his ruby eyes from darkening, his free hand dropping the controller to shamelessly rub at the bulge in his jeans.

“How cute your little cunt must be, how sweet it’d taste, how good those lips would feel wrapped around my cock as I fuck your throat,” his voice drops an octave as he speaks, low and dangerous as he kneads your breast hard—too hard, but adrenaline keeps the pain from registering.

He’s reaching for you now, pale hands pawing at your hips and dragging you over, forcing you to straddle his lap. A soft whimper falls from your lips as he instantly begins rolling his hips up, like he can’t bear to wait, fingers digging into your flesh as they hold you in place.

Neither can you, apparently, because you begin wiggling a little in his grasp, trying in vain to rut against him.

“You’re a little whore, huh? Even with a virgin, you can’t help but grind on a hard cock,” he smirks, lips at your ear. “A hard cock’s a hard cock I guess, makes no difference to you, greedy little slut,”

A mewl escapes your throat as you nod, hips pushing forcefully against his, grinding your little cunt against rough denim.

Wait, virgin?

“A v-virgin?”

“Yeah, lucky you,”

His words taper off into a growl, vibrating in his chest, hands leaving your waist to cup your jaw and roughly pull your face to his, lips crashing into yours. You emit a soft, startled noise into his mouth, and he swallows it greedily, tongue forcing its way through your parted lips and into your mouth, commanding your own tongue into submission almost instantaneously.

It’s nothing like kissing Touya. Your body follows your tongue, melting into him. Fingers grip your jaw, pressing crescent indents into the skin as he guides your head to exactly where he wants it to go.

It isn’t romantic. It’s harsh, and desperate, a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. A hand tangles in your hair and pulls, forcing your head back and revealing your arched neck to him. His lips trail down the column of your throat, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in their wake.

“I wanna fuck you already,” he whines a little, aggressively thrusting against your clothed core. You moan out an affirmative noise, nodding.

“One rule,” you breathe out.

“Hmm? And what’s that?” his lips are against your neck, tongue painting it in glistening saliva with slow, languid strokes.

“No marks,” you yelp out just as his teeth sink into your skin. It stings, Tomura keeping his mouth latched onto your neck for a few seconds, teeth buried in the soft flesh. His tongue laves over the mark before pulling away completely, and a shiver crawls up your spine as the bite is exposed to the cool air.

He��s giggling into your shoulder, nipping at the skin superficially. “Oops,”

“Tomura!” you whine, making no effort to pull his lips from your neck. “Touya’s going to murder me,”

He laughs again, pulling back and rolling his eyes. “And, what? He isn’t already going to kill you for fucking someone else?”

There isn’t a moment to respond, though, not a second to try and explain how weird Touya gets about marks in particular, because then he’s crushing his lips to yours again, hard, fervent, bruising.

“Gonna cum soon if you don’t fucking do something,” he practically snarls into your mouth.

The very thought of Tomura cumming in his pants just from a few minutes of dry humping makes your entire stomach flutter, a flash of pure confidence surging in your chest as involuntary words tumble from your mouth.

“Oh?” you murmur, breath hot against his lips. “Something? Like this?” you begin gyrating your hips in tiny, quick circles, giggling at the groan you rip from his throat.

And Tomura hates how fucking innocent you sound, gazing at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips and a sinful little smile.

“Stop,” it’s supposed to be a command, an order, but it comes out as a broken whine, his hands latching onto your hips again as he forces you to move even faster, rocking into you.

“Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop,” you pout a little and he huffs out a curse.

It’s intoxicating, to be in a position of power like this. It isn’t your favourite—you’re much too shy and indecisive to be in a role like this all the time—but the novelty of it excites you nonetheless. Touya never lets you do anything like this, hates being teased with a passion, but Tomura seems to enjoy it, like it’s some sort of game to him.

“Little bitch,” he breathes out, though his forehead is resting against yours, eyes shut, soft grunts spilling from his throat.

“C’mon, Tomura,” you whimper, and now it sounds like you’re the one begging. “Make a mess in your pants for me? P-Pretty please?”

That’s all it takes to have his hips stilling, fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he grips you tightly, holding you in place and forcing you to grind against him ever-so-slightly as his cock throbs and twitches in his jeans.

You expect him to push you off immediately after, to shout and berate you for such behaviour, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back against the bottom of the couch, arms encircling your waist and bringing you with him.

It must be uncomfortable, to sit in those soiled jeans filled with cum, but he doesn’t seem to care, more interested in exploring your mouth with his tongue as you kiss lazily. You don’t mind, although your clit is aching and swollen, pussy fluttering around nothing every so often as his fingers explore your body, kneading your ass and tweaking nipples, your panties soaked all the way through and sticking to you unpleasantly.

And it’s due to this that your hips still manage to rock against his in minuscule movements that are more teasing than anything else, little micro-circles that have your drenched cunt grinding gently against wet denim.

It seems he has an impossibly short refraction period because, before long, his cock’s hard again, pressing up into your clothed hole. You whimper his name into his mouth and he breaks the kiss, lips red and puffy, shining with saliva.

“Take my cock out,” he instructs, voice stern despite his slight breathlessness. You crawl off his lap and do as your told, popping the button, tugging the zipper down and pulling at the waistband of his jeans. He lifts his hips just enough to aid you in dragging them down to his thighs, cock springing free.

“Clean it up,”

It’s covered in cum, so much cum—too much cum, more than is normal—glistening in the low light of the living room. It twitches a little under your gaze, as if to say get on with it already, so you wrap a hand around the base and bring the head to your lips.

You start with kitten licks, tongue tracing around the head and playing with the slit, pulling a deep, throaty moan from him.

“Don’t—Don’t swallow it,” he rasps. “Clean me up and keep all my cum in your mouth,”

It’s difficult—his cum is much more bitter than Touya’s, and you gag a few times as it settles on your tongue, marinating in your mouth. You try your best to hold it in your cheeks and away from your tastebuds, working as quickly as possible as you lap it up, gazing up at him with teary eyes when you’re finished.

“What a good girl,” he spits in a patronizing tone, like it’s an insult. “Kiss me,”

It’s a demand you have no choice but to obey, a hand rooting in your hair and yanking you up to face him.

He all but smashes your lips together, fingers still wrapped tightly in your hair, holding you in place. His tongue forces its way through your lips and you greet it eagerly, desperate to get his cum out of your mouth.

Except he doesn’t let you pull away after you’ve passed the majority of his cum to him, the bitter taste still stinging your tongue. No, he uses the fist tangled in your hair to keep you still as he shoves his tongue into your mouth again, transferring the cum—now watered down a little with his saliva—into the warm cavern yet again.

You whine, and he chuckles, lips spreading into a grin against yours.

“Swallow it,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to watch your expression as you force it down your throat, face souring, eyes squeezed shut as your lips pucker just a little. “Open, lemme see,”

Your mouth falls open obediently, little droplets of water clinging to your lashes as you gaze up at him, waiting for approval.

“Good,” he practically purrs, eyes darkening as his fingers caress your face. “Now I want to fuck you,”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t give you a moment to respond, beginning to manhandle you into the position he wants before he’s even finished speaking. The oriental rug is soft against your cheek as he presses your face to the ground, hands curling around your hips as he hoists them up.

“What cute little panties,” he breathes, dragging a finger along your clothed slit before yanking the material down to your knees.

It stings a little as he practically shoves his cock into your sopping cunt, not bothering to stretch you out—you’re not even sure if he knows he’s supposed to—but you’re wet enough that the breach is relatively easy, and the burning fades quickly as your little hole adjusts to the girth of his cock.

He begins thrusting immediately, and he’s rough, overeager, uncoordinated, the vicious snaps of his hips uneven and sloppy.

Truthfully, he’s only using you as a hole the first time, but you don’t mind—not really, anyway. Blazing sapphire sears through your mind, and you think about how furious Touya would be if he knew, if he could see the way you’re degrading yourself, letting yourself be reduced to nothing but a fucktoy for a nasty virgin to desperately hump away at, sacrificing your own pleasure for his.

Touya would never.

To Touya, making you cum is half the fun. He gets a rush from it, gets high off the way you go absolutely fucking stupid from his fingers and cock, how quickly he can turn your brain to soup, rendering you a dumb little blabbering mess only capable of whining out the words niichan and Touya-nii. It feeds his ever-growing ego.

But Tomura is eager to please in a different way. He’s more selfish than Touya, sure, but he’s keen to learn all he can, curious and committed.

And, once he finally gets the hang of it, confident, too.

His thrusts gain more finesse as he fucks you, but he’s unable to keep up any steady rhythm, the tight fluttering of your pussy every time he grazes a specific spot inside of you making his hips stutter, forcing needy, guttural groans from his throat.

He cums quick—not that you expect any less from a virgin—with a deep growl of your name that has your stomach swooping, cunt throbbing around him again as he fills you with thick, burning cum.

You’re exhausted by the end of it, abused body melting into the lush carpet as your cunt throbs desperately, his cum slowly oozing out of it. Tomura snorts as he looks down at you, gentle hands tugging your panties down the rest of your legs and removing them completely, discarding them a few feet away.

“Up you go,” he’s murmuring as hands snake under your armpits and haul you up. You mumble his name and he hushes you, collapsing heavily on the couch with you still in his arms. Strong hands manhandle you into straddling his lap again, leaking pussy pressed against his softening cock.

The television hums to life, quiet main menu music floating through the room as the soft clicking of buttons sounds behind you.

You should go home now. You know you should. You’ve done what you came here to do, and now you should be leaving.

Should, should, should.

But Tomura’s so warm, and you’re so tired, muscles aching despite the fact that he did most of the work.

“Rest,” he instructs quietly when you begin to whine into his neck, fingers preoccupied with unwrapping a piece of watermelon bubblegum.

He’s so much softer than you expected—disgusting, but soft—and you can’t believe you spent months being terrified of him. You know this is probably the last time you’ll be able to see him in a long time—a fact that produces an inexplicable ache deep in your chest—so you allow yourself bask in the moment, just for a little, you promise yourself.

You obey his gentle command, snuggling up against him and permitting yourself to drift in and out of consciousness to the sound of aliens being killed and aggressive button smashing.

But then something hard is poking you—you aren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting here for now, long enough for Tomura to power through a few matches, at least—and that blistering heat flares again, beginning to coil tight in your tummy.

You shift a little, an involuntary whine slipping from your lips.

“What is it?” Tomura asks, eyes never straying from the screen, fingers never pausing. “You wanna sit on my cock, baby?”

Christ, yes. You mumble into his shoulder, nodding and rolling your hips in response.

He chuckles—a low, quiet sound rattling around in his chest—and allows you to sink down on him again, captivated by the soft moan you emit as you do so, crimson eyes gleaming and breathing slightly laboured.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters when his avatar on the screen gets shot, redirecting his attention.

And it’s…it’s nice. Surprisingly nice. He’s cozy, and comfy, his breathing slow and even with every rise of his chest, despite the alien shrieks coming from the TV behind you. He smells like cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon with just a hint of cedarwood, and you inhale deeply, letting the scent fill your lungs.

Touya rarely lets you cockwarm him; Touya doesn’t have the patience, Touya doesn’t have the time. You fall into a state halfway between asleep and awake, hips rocking against Tomura just enough to keep him hard, just enough to have you whimpering into his neck.

He could get used to this, he tells you. The confession is soft, a private little thought that just kinda slips out, mindlessly falling from his lips, but you could, too, you think.

It’s intimate, which is odd, considering you barely know him, used to be frightened of him. But it’s such a refreshing contrast to Touya’s intense, scalding flame.

Eventually, though, it isn’t enough, the teasing’s too much, and you need more.

Gazing up at him with glittering eyes, you begin to trail your lips up his neck, over his self-inflicted scars, slowly, hesitantly.

He inhales sharply, jumping a little in surprise, and you freeze, terrified you might’ve overstepped some invisible boundary you were not previously aware of.

“Keep going,” he whines, a little petulantly, hips wiggling against yours.

Lips resuming their ministrations, you place gentle, chaste kisses up the column of his throat and along his jaw, delighting in each soft sigh you manage to pull from him. The game playing on the TV suddenly halts, Tomura throwing the controller on the couch cushion next to you before large hands cup your face in a tender way you did not think him capable of.

Your mouths slot together, kissing messily, saliva glistening on your chins as you pass his watermelon gum back and forth between yourselves. It’s kinda gross, kinda filthy, juvenile and sloppy, but it’s fun, has the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths, a little breathless from it all.

“Wanna ride you,” you murmur, almost shyly, against his slippery lips.

“Yeah?” he rasps, just barely bouncing you in his lap. “You wanna use my cock to get off?”

“Yes, please,” the plead comes out as a pathetic whimper, and you squirm impatiently.

Finally, finally you get to cum. In this position, you have leverage over the angle of your hips, able to situate yourself just right, so his cockhead nudges exactly where you want it to.

He does nothing this time, just leans back and watches you with those dark, half-lidded scarlet eyes, hands idly exploring your thighs, occasionally raking his nails down them. He’s in a trance as he gazes at you, mesmerized by the way your eyes are starting to roll back, by the way each drag of his cock against that spot has you keening, by the way his name leaves your lips in broken little whines that have him gasping in response.

Your hips speed up, and you’re desperate, so desperate to cum, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders through his thin t-shirt.

“Gonna—” he starts, breathless. “Gonna cum?”

You nod a little frantically as eager hips rock against him, his hands finally finding your waist and helping you move.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Wanna feel you,”

And it’s his begging that does it, that finally sends you over the edge, pussy clenching around him, convulsing almost painfully and gushing on his cock with a sharp cry of his name. He follows immediately after, painting your insides with hot cum as a curse hitches in his chest.

Your body collapses against him, going pliant and boneless as you both pant. Everything feels heavy—you haven’t had an orgasm that intense in a while—and the absolute last thing you want to do is get up and walk home.

Tomura can sense it. He can feel it in the way your fingers are knotting in his t-shirt, in the way your hips try to scoot forward, chest pressed against his tightly, and he wraps an arm around you, trying to keep you close for just a minute more.

Silence blankets the room as the two of you calm your breathing. You’ve been anticipating a certain sense of awkwardness to finally wash over you all night, but it never comes. Instead, it’s pleasant, and you hum a little, nuzzling your face into Tomura’s shoulder as skinny fingers brush through your hair.

“I don’t wanna go,” you say, and it’s so quiet, muffled by the material of his shirt, that he barely hears it. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to.

“Just stay,” he mumbles, resting his chin atop your head. “Text your dad some bullshit, or whatever,”

You want to. You’re surprised at how much you desperately want to.

“Touya will kill me,”

“Touya’s gonna kill ya either way, sweetheart,”

You suppose that’s true. Neither of you tricked yourselves into thinking that you’d actually get away with this. Touya will know the moment he sees you, will probably be able to smell Tomura all over you, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care, not in that moment, not when Tomura’s so comfy and you’re so sleepy and it’s all just nice.

Good, you think. It’s about time he gets a taste of how much stuff like this hurts.

And so you find yourself crawling into his bed, in one of his t-shirts, with bruises in the shape of his fingertips rapidly blossoming, heat seeping into your cheeks when he tells you he thinks you look cute in his clothes.

He latches onto you the moment you’ve settled into his mattress, long arms encircling your waist and dragging you towards him. One of your legs slots between his, and you have to stifle a giggle.

“Hard again, Tomura?”

“Shut up,” he says, no heat to his voice. “Can’t help it,”

His words echo your own, three simple words you’ve said so many times to Touya, and you feel a pang in your chest.

“Not my fault you’re too hot,” he continues, grumbling into your neck.

Honestly, you didn’t peg him as a cuddler, and maybe he isn’t—maybe he just wants to grind and hump against your thigh—but you welcome the warmth of his body nonetheless.

It doesn’t bother you, although it probably should, as he ruts against you, tiny broken moans and high, breathy whines being exhaled against your neck. But it’s so new, all of this is so new to you, and curiosity clouds your better judgement. While you’re pretty sure you should be shoving him away, reprimanding him for such behaviour, positive that’s what any normal person would do, you don’t. Little fingers thread in his hair instead, carding through silvery-blue fluffy tufts, reveling in the groan it pulls from him.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum, thick and sticky in his boxers, the material wet against your thigh. You’re impressed, both by how easily he cums, and how much he cums. You want to tell him, want to tease him about it a little, let him know you think it’s cute, but heavy, hazy fatigue begins to wash over you, and you fall asleep to Tomura’s soft breaths mingled with the sound of you phone buzzing, over and over and over again.

✰ ✰ ✰

Your phone’s dead when you wake sometime in the early afternoon, and for that, you’re thankful. Anxiety floods your stomach, bubbling up in your chest acidly as you think about what’ll be waiting for you when you recharge it.

Tomura walks you to the door, which you find to be very odd behaviour, but sweet nonetheless, and watches carefully as you slip on your shoes.

“Uh, text me later, okay?” He sounds unsure for the first time since you’ve been with him, and your expression softens.

“I will, if Touya doesn’t take my phone away,”

And you pretend to miss the look on his face, the way his eyebrows knit as a hand comes to scratch idly at his neck, the way he looks almost worried. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

✰ ✰ ✰

He knows. The moment you step foot through the front door, he knows.

You knew he would, but it doesn’t make the glare scathing your skin any less terrifying.

He’s on you in an instant—you didn’t even know humans could move that fast—pinning you to the drywall, large hands wrapped around your wrists and forcing them above your head, keeping you trapped.

“You little slut,”

Unexpected anger flares in your chest, even though tears are already beginning to collect in your eyes, and you squirm in his grasp.

“I fuck one other person, and I’m the slut?”

You gasp the moment the words leave your lips, wide eyes searching his face and shaking your head frantically, would slap your hands over your mouth if they weren’t currently secured in his bruising grip against the wall.

The look he gives you is absolutely petrifying, blue eyes darker than the ocean—so dark they almost look black—his stare cold and hard as stone, sending sharp spikes of ice up your spine.

“You fucking reek of him,” he spits, face screwing up in disgust. You’re sure you do, too, after spending a good twelve hours in his bed, almost positive you can smell him in your hair, the remnants of cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon clinging to you.

Patronizing eyes rake over you, zeroing in on the violet that’s bloomed on your neck. His nostrils flare as he stares at it, breath beginning to come in rapid, uneven huffs. His eyes slowly drift back to yours, an unreadable expression settling on his face.

It’s shock, and disbelief, and rage, and…and sadness? It passes too quickly for you to even tell, and then he’s pulling your wrists down callously, still gathered in his hand, and dragging you towards his room.

He all but throws you on his bed face first, breathing harsh and erratic as he exhales forcefully through his nose and climbs on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. A large hand wraps itself in your hair and tugs, forcing your upper body to arch.

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back. Sure, he’s furious beyond belief, looks like he could kill you right here, right now, with his bare fucking hands—but he’s also extremely upset, if the slight quiver present in his voice is any indication.

“Yes,” you wheeze out. If it made him feel even an ounce of the emotional turmoil he’s put you through with his whores, then yes, it was absolutely worth it.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” his voice is low, threatening, calm. It’s disturbing, how quickly he can switch, and a chill of unease settles deep in your bones—once Touya stops with his growls and snarls, once his voice becomes monotonous and almost serene in a way, that’s when you know he’s really angry.

Shoving your head down into the mattress, he tells you to stay fucking put as he gets up and wanders over to his desk. He returns to the bed moments later with a tool that vaguely resembles a pen, hand tangling in your hair again as he pulls you up.

“You know what this is?”

You shake your head as best you can.

“It’s a soldering iron,” his voice is still composed and collected, sounding almost as if he’s explaining something to a child, but there’s a malevolent glint in his eye, a look you’ve never seen before. “It gets really, really hot. I just so happened to be warming one on my desk,”

He says it so nonchalantly, as if this is an object one would regularly keep in their bedroom or on their desk.

“It’s not supposed to be used on skin,” he shrugs a little, twirling the tool between his fingers. “But today, I think we’ll make an exception,”

“What?”

“Head down, ass up,” he instructs sternly, pushing your head into his pillows.

“Touya, wait—” you start, the rest of your sentence muffled by the sheets. His hand gives one firm shove—a warning to stay down—and then he begins shuffling around on the bed.

Careful to keep your cheek pressed hard against the pillow, you turn your head just enough to speak.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Your voice is trembling, thick with tears, dense anxiety building in your chest.

“I’m going to burn my name into your pretty little ass,” he responds simply as he positions himself behind you, yanking your panties midway down your thighs and sitting back on his heels. “A nice, pretty, permanent mark so you, and everyone else, never forget who you fucking belong to,”

“No!” you gasp, beginning to lift your head only to have him force it back into the pillow with a snarl. “No, Tou—niichan, I-I’ll do anything, please—”

“No, no, no, baby,” he says over your senseless babbling, voice almost gentle, thumb caressing your silky skin. “Don’t squirm, now,” he chides. “If you squirm, my hand might slip, and I might burn other parts of your body. We don’t want that, do we? Be a good girl for niichan and sit still,”

And so you do. You should feel ashamed, pathetic, revolted that he’s able to manipulate you so easily, that he knows exactly how to turn you into putty to be molded and shaped as he pleases, even when he’s about to sear his name into your skin.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before as he carefully carves his name into the supple flesh, saying the letters out loud as he does so. It’s a unique, stinging-stabbing type of pure agony, one that sends sharp pain radiating up to your lower back and down your thigh.

Fingers curl in his dark sheets as you sob into his bed—chest-wracking sobs that have your entire body trembling, chest-wracking sobs that you so desperately try to hold back and swallow, to stay still, to be good for your niichan. Touya tells you to be happy, be grateful, that the temperature of his iron goes up so high.

“Otherwise, I would’ve had to go over it several times in order to make it really stick,”

It’s over quickly, though, a mere fifteen minutes later and he’s cleaning it with rubbing alcohol and gently taping thick gauze over it and uses this opportunity to take your panties off entirely.

“Good girl,” he praises as he hoists you up, manhandling you to straddle his spread thighs, careful of your now very sensitive bottom. “You did so good for niichan,”

And you can’t stand the way your heart weakly flutters at his praise. You can’t stand the way you instinctually bury your head in his chest, tiny fists forming in the material of his t-shirt as you wail, can’t stand the way he is still the only one you want comforting you.

His cock is hard through his jeans, and you can feel it pressing into your core as he shifts a little under you. It’s humiliating, but you’re powerless to stop your hips from moving in subtle little circles, grinding your cunt against the rough denim. And he lets you do it for a little, too, tender fingers petting your hair as he soothes your sobs, taming them to little sniffles and hiccups.

“Niichan’s gonna fuck you now, okay?” he asks softly, murmuring against your scalp, voice almost sickly sweet.

It takes you a moment to respond, eventually nodding your head.

A smirk spreads across his lips and he instructs you to get up, tapping the side of your thigh.

You lift yourself, walking back on your knees and giving him enough room to free his aching cock from the confines of his jeans before his hands find your hips again, dragging you back.

“Baby,” he breathes as his fingers spread your folds, his eyes darkening in a manner much different than before. “Already wet for me?”

Cheeks burning with shame, you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering a little as he pushes a finger into you.

“Don’t tell me,” he gasps tauntingly, voice dripping with artificial surprise. “You didn’t like being branded, did you?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head quickly. No, it wasn’t the branding that did it—not really, anyway. It was the aftercare. It was Touya’s cold hands gently tending to your injured bottom, Touya pulling you into his lap as he praised you and dropped kisses to the crown of your head, Touya getting hard from the punishment, from permanently searing his name into your flesh.

You should be disgusted with yourself, with how eager you are, hips wiggling a little only a few moments later as you whine out softly, “Niichan, cock,”

“Impatient,” he huffs. “Don’t get bratty with me now, you were doing so well,”

A pout forms on your face, still hidden in his shoulder.

“Jus’ want it so bad,” you mumble against him, beginning to slur your words. “Please, Touya-nii?”

He hums to himself, makes you beg just a little bit more, reveling in the way your voice begins to get desperate, all high and needy as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers, whimpering and begging with pathetic little please, niichan?’s.

“Is this how you want it? Huh? Wanna ride niichan?”

Mewling a little, you nod, rolling your hips into his palm.

“Words, sweetheart,”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “W-Wanna ride you,”

Finally, he gives it to you, lets you sink down on his cock, watching the way you wince as it stretches you, expression contradicted by your soft moans.

He forces you to begin bouncing immediately, doesn’t allow you to set the pace—he never does—smirking at those little pained cries spilling from your throat, though whether they’re because his cock or the five letters freshly burned into your skin, he isn’t sure. Maybe both; probably both.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, tone condescending. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, the threat of tears stinging your eyes.

“Yeah? Yeah?” his voice mimics yours, pitched high and whiny. “I bet it fucking does,”

A hand travels down to grope your ass—specifically, the cheek with the brand—squeezing hard as fingers dig into your skin. You cry out, tears finally leaking from your eyes, chest hitching as you sob out, “Touya-nii,”

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” he says in your ear, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever go fuck another man because you’re mad at me, do you understand?”

Heat begins to coil tightly in your stomach at his smooth, dark voice. “Y-Yes,”

“Promise me,” he growls, grip tightening on your ass.

“I promise,” you’re weeping as he gives one more harsh squeeze, pain scorching through your backside, a loud yelp escaping your lips.

“Bet his cock didn’t feel as good as mine,” he sneers in your ear, panting a little. “Wasn’t as big as mine, didn’t fill you up the way mine does,”

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in time with his thrusts, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Probably could—” a low groan cuts him off as your pussy flutters around him. “Could never make you cum the way I do,”

A loud whine rips from your throat, your head nodding as he continues his relentless thrusts up into you, never once faltering. Adrenaline and endorphins rush through your veins, high off the heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

“N-Niichan,” you gasp, nails digging into his flesh through the material of his thin t-shirt. “Niichan,”

“Gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna make a mess all over niichan’s cock?” he’s asking breathlessly, slamming into you at a rapid pace and using his thighs for more leverage, hands gripping your hips.

“Uh-huh,”

“Do it, then,” he commands hoarsely. “Cum on your niichan’s cock,”

And you do, helplessly, incapable of disobeying a direct order, creaming so hard your vision blanks for a second, overwhelmed by the extreme, potent mix of pain and pleasure crashing over you.

“Who do you belong to?” Touya’s nearly keening now, hips jackhammering, making your body twitch and shudder with every sharp thrust into your sensitive pussy.

“You,”

“Tell me again,”

“I belong to you, niichan,”

And those five simple words—those five simple words have him cumming hard, hips stilling and cockhead pressed firmly against your cervix, filling your cute little cunt with his seed as broken curses fall from his lips.

You’re both panting, covered in a thin, sheen layer of sweat, your hair sticking to your face and little droplets of tears still glistening on your lash line. He all but collapses back against the bed, taking you with him, cock still buried inside of you.

“And I’m yours,” he whispers into your hair, hugging you tightly—too tightly—to his heaving chest. “I’m yours,”

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, you wonder if you’re destined to play this game for the rest of your lives.

He’s yours.

Are you stuck with him now, forever?

He’s yours.

Will you every get married? Ever get the chance to date someone else?

He’s yours.

Do you even want to?

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, knowing he’s yours, do you even want any of that?

No. With your head resting against his chest, rising and falling with his gentle breaths, slender fingers combing through your sweaty hair, you realize that this is all you want.

He’s yours, and you’re his, and that is enough.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #dabi #todoroki touya #no of course i didn't get the brand idea from jackass #what are u talking about #this tomura is uhhhh v different from break my bones tomura #ehehe he's kinda soft but also rly disgusting???#yucky yucky boi #i will DIE with that rich boy shig hc #tw pseudo-incest #tw noncon/dubcon #tw branding #tw dacryphilia #tw degradation #tw cheating #tw toxic relationship

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

Text

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

I’ve opened requests now, if anybody is interested. Here’s the post:

Requests

Lost Silver

As stupid as it sounds, the game didn’t scare you.

It had started as a joke, something passed around your friend group after it had been discovered. The cartridge was just a janky version of a Pokémon game that was apparently spooky and so, everybody had taken turns messing around with it. They all said creepy things started happening but nothing too bad.

When it was your turn, you had been fully expecting something out of a horror movie. Instead, you had gotten a game that just had audio cut offs and weird notes warning you to stay out. It wasn’t all together scary.

You mentioned this to the next person you gave the game to in your friend group and they had laughed, saying it would probably ring true for them also.

But for some reason, your ally didn’t manifest.

Less than two days later, they practically threw the game at the rest of you and ran away sprouting things about curses. After that, the appeal of playing it kind of went away.

Nobody wanted to buy it and apparently throwing it out wasn’t a suggestion. So you ended up getting it.

Curiosity soon got the better of you and you booted up the game again, really sure that it would do something absolutely crazy but it never did. It ran like it always had with only that one file being completed.

So you deleted the file.

And nothing happened.

The next day, when you booted up the game, the file had simply returned as though you hadn’t deleted it in the first place. A similar thing occurred the next time. And the next.

Eventually you gave up and just started your own game. There, everything ran like it was meant to and you were beginning to think that your friends had all been imagining stuff. Maybe their paranoid got to them or something like that?

But eventually, the nightmares started. And they were bad.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened during them. They were a swirling mess of games and glitches, horrible things spelled out in letters and blood covering everything. You would always wake up right when they seemed to be coming to a pivotal point. You’d find yourself dragged into a graveyard and then you’d wake up screaming

It was awful. You hardly got any sleep during them and they seemed to haunt you every night, keeping you up until the early hours of the morning.

But the worst only came when you didn’t wake up.

When you were dragged to the grave and looked down to see the ellipsis where the name should be. A punch to the gut that reminded you of what the game file was called. A confirmation of what was causing this dream.

You stared at it for ages before your eyes drifted up and you met his gaze. He was covered in blood, it leaked from every orifice and limb. It stained his dirty clothing even worse.

While you were staring, the world seemed to distort even though he didn’t. The game world melted away and your bedroom slowly reappeared.

It wasn’t until you saw car headlights move past your window – casting awful shadows across the room – that you realised you were no longer dreaming. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

The temperature in the room plummeted and you began to slowly reach for a weapon of some kind. He turned to look at what you were watching. His head tilted to the side and a glitch raced across his body before he vanished into thin air. Flicking on the lights didn’t show him hiding or cowering.

Perhaps your friends weren’t crazy after all.

Masky

“You know, if we had been a little more patient, none of this would have happened,” your sibling lectured. “We could be relaxing inside the car without having to worry about a bloody flash flood coming down from the sky.”

You shoved their back, forcing them to stumble a little as they went through the door. “Chances are the river’s going to burst its banks anyway. We would have been stuck in traffic for hours because the bridge is blocked off.”

“At least we would have been dry,” they muttered, running their fingers through their hair. “And not trapped inside an abandoned building.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over the rubble to settle down on a camping chair. “Don’t even start. This place has been a hangout for my friends and I for ages. There’s never been a single problem bigger than a few spiders.”

“Till a landlord shows up,” they scoffed.

“Then we’ll move to the forest,” you joked. “I’m sure there’s a good bear cave we can use.”

“I’m going to be an only child,” they said, rolling their eyes. Still, they made their way over and sat. “How long do you think we have until the storm dies down?”

You relaxed back into the chair and smiled up at the asbestos-filled ceiling. “From the sound of it, a while.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time you had taken a nap in the building. You were scared of giant cockroaches coming to eat you once. You had gotten used to it since then but this time when you woke up, you were uneasy.

Glancing around, nothing was out of the ordinary. Your sibling was snoring in the chair next to you and outside the rain was pounding the roof.

You sat upright. Sometimes was definitely wrong.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you got up from the chair and began walking as quietly as you could through the house. It had always been tiny and practically void of furniture, but the few rooms provided ample hiding spots.

Nothing but rubble was in most of the rooms but, in what you presumed had once been a bathroom, you found a person.

He had his back to you but when you pushed the door open to peer in, he spun around, his hand flying to his side. He was wearing a white mask, dark features etched onto it, and an orange jacket. A dark stain ran up the right side of it, emanating from under his hand. The oddness of his clothing made you immediately back away from the door, finger twitching on your cell phone in case you needed to call for help.

The two of you stared at each other in silence.

You were lost about what to say or do. The stain on his jacket was spreading and the more you stared at it, the more you became convinced it was blood. “Are you okay?” you finally managed to ask.

It took him a while to respond but then he nodded. The mask was unnerving you. You didn’t like not being able to see a person’s facial expressions.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but it really looks like you’re bleeding,” you said. “And quite badly. I can call for an ambulance or something although…” you turned your attention to the window behind his head. “I’m not sure they’ll be able to get anywhere with this weather.”

He stepped backward. “I’m fine,” he said, so soft you barely caught it. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

“It normally is,” you answered. “But we had to avoid the storm. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here also?”

“Yes,” he responded.

You waited or him to say something more, but all you got was silence. He had moved further away and now he had his back against the window. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to your sibling but you were unsure about turning your back on the strange man.

The mask made you scared he could stab you or something.

Somebody calling your name made you turn your head on instinct. Your sibling must have woken up and realised you were missing.

Quickly, you turned back to the man, but he had disappeared. Rain spat through the now open window.

Nurse Ann

Everybody always warned you about exploring old buildings. They would yell about how many things could injure or kill you. Stray animals, drug addicts, old equipment, and all that. You had heard just about every warning imaginable. Ghosts were pretty commonly mentioned also.

But killer nurse was a new one.

“Come on, just give me a little more information,” you nagged. “I’m going there whether you’re with me or not so you may as well just tell me what you’ve heard.”

Your friend (and partner in crime for most ventures) groaned. “It’s not much. They just say that she guards the place and if you get too close, she’ll run you off with a chainsaw. Some people have died from injuries they got while there. Let’s just give this one a miss, alright?”

But you were not in agreement at all.

“Maybe she’s cute though,” you teased.

They didn’t find that funny and you didn’t push them to come with you. So later that evening, you snuck in by yourself.

The hospital was old with crumbling walls and smashed windows. It was hidden from the public by means of a tall barbed-wire fence and a substantial distance of open garden. Nothing too extreme for you and definitely worth the potential items you’d find inside. When hospitals went under, they often left tons of awesome stuff just scattered around.

You’d never sold anything you found in your abandoned building dives. They were more collectables than anything else but they meant quite a bit to you.

There weren’t any signs of crazy nurses as you approached the place. Nobody came running at you with a chainsaw at least. You didn’t even find evidence of squatters who could sometimes pose some danger.

After deciding it was safe enough, you lifted yourself through one of the windows and began to explore.

Honestly, it was creepy. Everything was way too old to be worth collecting and there were too many unidentifiable stains for your liking. The water damage was bad. It looked like the ceiling was there for aesthetics only and several rooms creaked too much for you to comfortably cross them.

And that was even without the awkward feeling of being watched.

You told yourself that it was just superstition but you couldn’t shake it. Every few seconds saw you looking over your shoulder in anticipation. It distracted you from keeping your eye on the path in front of you and the loud crack reached your ears too late.

The floor gave out and you fell through. Your shoulder hit some kind of metal object as you landed in the room below. Painful shocks ripped through your body and your head knocked against the floor with a heavy thud.

Stars danced in front of your vision and you raised your hand to the top of your head. Blood coated your hand when you lowered it to look.

Shit.

Shakily, you tried to pull yourself up but quickly found that your arm was too sore. Instead, you pulled your phone from your pocket and sent off the emergency text to your friend.

The world faded to black not long after that.

When you woke up next, you were in your room with a bandage wrapped around your head. You had felt like absolute crap but still gotten up to thank them for the save. They had nodded and warned you to be more careful, happy that you had been outside the hospital so they didn’t have to look for too long.

Before you could even think about how you had crawled there, they asked how you had managed to do your own stitches so nicely.

Puppeteer

Your camera was on 10% battery.

Grumbling, you shoved it into your bag and cursed your past self for forgetting to put it on charge. In order to get the best sunrise photos, you had found yourself waking up earlier and earlier. It was tiring but it was worth it… most of the time.

You just hoped that at least one of your pictures was usable but you could only check on them once you got home.

The streetlight above your head flickered as you walked past. It wasn’t unusual but when you were the only person awake for miles around, it was awfully creepy.

Putting your hands into your jacket pockets, you continued strolling back home. The neighborhood had never been dangerous and despite living in the area for your entire life, no incidents made you want to stop walking around at night.

Deciding that you wanted to take a precautionary shot, you headed for your neighbour’s house first. They had an arch covered in jasmine flowers that made for some perfectly safe photos and they never minded your presence.

After making your way there and getting a few photos, you were treated to the fright of your life when their began howling and barking. It wasn’t aimed at you but you didn’t like the noise regardless.

As you rounded the corner of the house, planning on racing back to your own home, you encountered the dog’s target.

A man – cloaked in the darkness and barely illuminated by the streetlight – opening one of the windows with ease. Irritated by the dog, he didn’t notice you until your finger twitched around the shutter of your camera. There was a flash.

His head snapped up and you screamed.

The man’s complexation was literally grey. He wasn’t just ill, he was the colour of storm clouds. Golden eyes with no pupils glared at you and froze you in place. Whatever he was, this man was the furthest thing from human.

Your scream woke your neighbors. The sound of movement began coming from inside the house.

He abandoned the window, stalking towards you. The air tingled like it was expecting a lightning storm. Golden tendrils grew from his fingertips and shot towards you. They had you pinned in an instant.

You struggled against them and opened your mouth to scream again but they wrapped around your head, forcing your jaw shut.

This was how you died… tears spilled down your cheeks at the realization. You were going to be an unsolved murder. All you hoped was you got a good picture of him.

Your neighbor’s front door opened and great dane let out an ear-splitting bark as he raced toward you.

The man, or creature, or monster, or whatever he was, released you to face the dog. He let it approach before vanishing into a cloud of smoke as its jaws reached him.

“What was that?” the timid voice brought you back into reality.

“It was trying to get into your house,” you said. “I screamed when I saw it and then it grabbed me.” Your voice changed to a whimper as reality hit you. You nearly died.

The small child of the house came over to hug your leg. “I’m sure Puppet didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “He always comes to visit but he doesn’t like it when people make noise. You shouldn’t scream when you see him again.”

You made eye-contact with the parents and they wore expressions of horror at their daughter’s words.

“Puppet?” you asked in a small voice.

She nodded rapidly. “He says he stops by because he likes watching people. I think that he’s watching us all right now! But he can hide in the shadows too well.”

“I’m going to go and call the police,” somebody said.

You weren’t all too focused. The feeling of being watched grew heavier and you clutched tightly at the camera in your hands.

Slenderman

You couldn’t tell if they were being serious. You hoped that they were joking. They weren’t genuinely going to…

“No,” you stated.

The two younger children both turned to look at you simultaneously. Guilt flashed across their faces as though they weren’t aware you were listening. It was as though you were asked to babysit them because you didn’t pay attention. These two should have realised that by now.

“Do you think all the stories are true?” the boy asked. “I think that they are. One of my friends said she saw a huge dog in the forest and then it ran away after eating a whole cow!”

“No way!” his twin sister shouted. “Dogs don’t eat cows, so it can’t be true!”

You put on your best intimidating expression and crossed your arms. “I don’t care if they’re true or not. There is absolutely no chance that either of you are going to go running off into the woods with bears, wolves and all kinds of other creatures.”

The two children glanced at each other and bolted for the tree line before you could grab their shirts.

Thankfully your legs were longer even if they had a head start and you managed to catch up pretty quickly. Once you caught the boy and picked him up with ease, the girl dashed behind a tree.

“Can we please just leave?” you asked nicely. “If we forget about the forest adventure thing, I promise I won’t tell your parents and I’ll get you ice cream.”

The boy was trying his hardest to get out of your hold. You were starting to think babysitting didn’t pay enough.

“I don’t want ice cream,” the girl said. “I want to go and find a unicorn.”

She darted off into the forest and you let out a deep groan. Shifting the boy’s weight over your one hip, you started walking after her. If you wanted to give chase via running, you would have to put the kid down and trust him to follow or stay.

It was obvious that wasn’t happening.

It didn’t take you too long to find the girl. Mostly because she had stopped in the middle of a weird grove in the trees. She was just staring off into the dark shadows beyond it.

As you approached her, static popped in your ears. You shook your head in an effort to displace it but the closer you got, the louder it became.

The child in your arms whimpered, clutching his head.

You softly called her name and then it appeared. It was a man-like monster, standing just in the shadows of the trees. Easily over 7ft tall and insanely thin with no facial features. Your heart jumped into your throat and your stomach tied itself into a knot.

Without taking your eyes off it, you reached out a hand and fumbled around until you grabbed the girl’s shirt.

The static was getting louder and louder. You tried to shut it out as you started moving backwards, tugging the child along after you. She wasn’t willing to move her legs. She was entranced but whether by fear or magic, you couldn’t tell.

And then it was much closer.

You stumbled in fright, letting go of the girl’s shirt and landing on your ass. The boy fell on top of you but scrambled away and hide in the bushes within the blink of an eye. You sent a silent prayer to him to run back home to the other adults.

Once again, the creature was stationary but now the static was growing to such a volume that you could imagine your ears were starting to bleed.

You reached out for the girl again slowly, but something wrapped around your leg and yanked you into the air.

It took almost a full second for you to realise that the screaming ringing in your ears was you. Whatever was holding you tightened and whipped your body through the air. It was like your leg was being ripped away.

Then you were falling.

It was some feat of luck that you managed to twist your body, so you didn’t land on your head. You lay there for a while before something poking your back made you unbury your face.

The twins were staring at you with wide eyes and the monster was nowhere in sight.

“What was –“ you couldn’t finish.

“Slenderman,” they said in perfect sync.

Splendorman

Another stop…

You couldn’t help yourself. Every time you walked past one of the posters fluttering lightly in the wind you had to stop and stare at it.

A few days ago, your dog, your beautiful and sweet puppy, had disappeared from your house without a trace. The missing posters were depressing reminders that he wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken long for your mind to spiral into the negative thoughts about how close the road was.

Damn your coworkers. One of the had suggested the road in the first place and while they hadn’t intended anything malicious, it was definitely not helping your fears.

The dog had been with you through thick and through thin… if it was dead, you may as well have lost a close family member.

Hanging your head, you dragged your eyes away from the poster and kept walking.

People bumped into you, but it was your fault. You refused to look up in case another poster distracted you. Getting home before the sun set was your only focus now.

You had tried going out and searching in all the places where your dog once spent time to no avail. Always willing to try again, you chose to drop off your bags and head out later that evening when you ran out of distractions.

As you walked through the gates in front of your house, a gust of air gently messed up your hair. A gust of wind suspiciously similar to a laugh.

Your logical mind told you it came from the street, but something made you stop in your tracks.

The walls around your property towered. There’s no possibility that somebody could be in your garden. To try and scale one of the walls, they would have been in full view of your neighbours who would have undoubtedly called the cops.

“You’re sad,” the wind whispered before you could brush off your suspicion.

Spinning wildly, you searched around for the source. You backed up until your entrance gate was behind you. You could run down to the main street with ease if you could just get your fumbling fingers to unlock things.

“Don’t run,” the wind said, this time blowing from a separate direction. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to know why you’re upset.”

Is this what going insane was? Nobody around and the wind was talking to you. You had always feared losing your mind and now it was happening.

“I’m real,” the wind said. “I’m hiding because I’ll scare you if you see me.”

“I’m going mad,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If this is somebody pulling a prank on me I swear….”

The wind quietened for a bit and then it picked up again, ruffling your hair as it spoke. “If I show myself, it’ll prove that you’re not going crazy, but I don’t want to make it worse by frightening you… you’re so sad already.”

“I lost my best friend and people have been telling me he’s most likely dead,” you hissed. “Obviously I’m not in the best mood. Now I’m losing my fucking mind and talking to air.”

The atmosphere around you dropped, like it does moments before lightning strikes. You glanced at the sky in confusion. As expected, no clouds in sight.

You lowered your gaze and a 7ft tall creature covered in bright polka dots stood in front of your house.

Once you screamed, it disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” the wind said. “I knew I would scare you, but I had hoped it would show you that I’m not imaginary. I’m just trying to help.”

The gate finally opened behind you and you stumbled backwards through it, your heart sitting in your throat. A monster was in your house and it was probably going to kill you. Spinning on your heel, you took off full speed back towards the main street.

You were fully expecting it to give chase now that you hadn’t fallen for its claims of harmlessness but it didn’t.

Instead you reached the main road and only got a few strange looks because of how much you were shaking. Nothing followed you.

The wind picked up once more. “I’ll try and help,” it promised.

People walking around you should have heard it as well but none of them so much as blinked.

Ticci Toby

While you had been told that a noise limit for the forest existed, your laughter refused to cooperate. It rang through the trees and probably chased off all the animals nearby. A picnic out in a national forest was a fantastic way to reconcile with nature and to scare it all away.

With eleven people in your picnic party, chances of any creatures coming into view were already slim though so you didn’t worry too much.

“We didn’t bring nearly enough fruit,” you muttered as you dug in the basket.

“Excuse you, I brought a whole watermelon but you ate it,” somebody answered your grumble. “If you want fruit, it is spring. Go and forage for some berries.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m going to go out by myself in the middle of the one season where bears are irritable as fuck. I know I sometimes act a little impulsively, but I don’t exactly have a wish to die at the claws of a grumpy teddy.”

Your friend leaned towards you. “Is that so? What if we split into teams and made a bet? Loser has to take a dip in the river.”

“A bet?” you asked. “I’m interested.”

She grinned and snapped her fingers. “Okay, there are eleven people so I’m feeling groups of two with one impartial party as a judge. We should be fine if we make enough noise and stick within close vicinity to each other. See how many berries we can gather?”

Tipping out the picnic basket’s contents, you smirked and pushed it into her chest. “Oh, I hope you brought a swimming costume.”

Everybody teamed up with ease and grabbed one of the many containers lying on the blanket. You headed out with your partner and gave a wink to the other teams. All you needed was to find one good bush first and you had it won.

“We should split up,” your partner said. “Cover more ground.”

You nodded. “We meet up back here once we’ve found a good bush,” you agreed. “And we shout if we find any animals.”

Obviously, your plans hadn’t involved losing your footing almost directly after the two of you split.

Tumbling down the small hill, you tried your hardest to protect yourself from the bushes as you went through them. At some point, you lost your basket and by the time you had finally rolled to a stop, you had no idea where it was.

Grumbling, you stood up and started searching until something dark caught your eye. Thinking it was your basket, you made your way over.

The clearing you walked into housed a scene you could never have imagined.

A dead bear lay slumped against a tree, its fur being what had caught your eye earlier. A hatchet buried in its neck was spilling blood onto the floor around it. All that hardly compared to the man leaning against a tree.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

His head immediately snapped up, allowing you to see that he was wearing a mouth guard and a pair of goggles. Blood seeped from between his fingers where they clutched against his chest, but he hardly noticed. A hatchet was hanging from his belt.

Suddenly, you were wishing you had kept your mouth shut.

He stared at you blankly for a while, an occasional twitch minorly affecting his body. Reaching up, he took off his mouthguard. “I can’t feel any pain,” he said. “So, I’m fine. Why are y-you out here? The hiking trail is far.” He struggled with one of the words, seeming to hiccup a little on it.

“I was searching for berries and I slipped down a hill,” you answered. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like you got into a fight with a bear. Your shirt is all bloody.”

“I did fight a bear,” he laughed, gesturing to it. “I won.”

Your eyes grew wider. “I think you should get to a hospital. What’s your name? I can call somebody for you and we’ll get you medical attention.”

“Toby,” he said. “That’s my name. What’s yours?”

You gave him your full name and pulled out your phone. “My friends are close by,” you said. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here to help soon.”

When you raised your attention from your phone, he had disappeared and so had the hatchet from the bear’s neck.

Trenderman

Work was hard. It made your feet ache, it made your back click and crack, and it felt like the problems would never end.

Would you give up working in the fashion industry? Not a chance.

Your boss walked past where you were calming down an irate customer over the phone and dropped the keys to the front of the building in front of you. “Close up for me,” she mouthed as she left.

Nodding, you moved them to the side of the desk where they couldn’t be lost.

Once you had finished calming the customer, you glanced around to check how many people were left in the room. Three still working and one in the process of leaving. You were technically going into overtime at this point, but you didn’t mind.

There was a reason you were promoted so quickly.

“We need to set up cameras!” one of the floor managers snapped, storming into the office. She marched straight over to your desk and glowered at you. “I put this request in a week ago.”

Scrolling through the documents, you quickly opened the file. “I see but it looks like it’s been bumped due to a shipment malfunction, I’ll flag it. What’s the problem?”

“Customers or members of staff are moving items around and throwing things out without warning. We need to catch the culprits!” she snapped.

“What has been thrown out?” you asked. “I’ll add it into the information.”

The woman started listing quicker than you could type. “I’ve found crocs, toeless thigh-high boots, bellbottomed jeans, coloured faux fur jackets, luminous lipstick, w-necks, and jeggings all in vast numbers in the trash can. Every time I put them out on shelves, they disappear again.”

It took everything in you not to snort. “I’ll mark this vital.”

She stalked off and you went back to inputting the shipping requirements. You were meant to be organising what was coming in for the latest line and subtly omitting anything that wouldn’t sell well enough.

Slowly but surely, your co-workers trickled out of the office after finishing off their daily tasks. You kept going, trying to make sure you could have a longer break the next day.

Finally, when the sun had already set, you relented and started getting ready to go home.

You sung as you finished packing up for the day. Being the last one in the building (thus having to lock up) made you a little more confident as you danced around getting everything together. You slung your bag over your shoulder and happily trotted over to the door.

It made you so happy that your boss entrusted you to be the last one around. She was so hyper-protective of company secrets that you were proud of yourself for winning her over.

Your talent with people was something you attributed to dealing with painful customers.

As you passed through the store-part of the business you stopped to rearrange a mannequin. Every morning when you came in, you always noticed something had been changed with this specific one. You figured you could move something small and see if it would be a good place to set up a hidden camera.

Though you weren’t expecting it to suddenly grab your arm.

“You may be one of the few workers here with good taste, but I advise you don’t try and change my outfit,” it said. It didn’t have a mouth, but the words rang in your head, nevertheless.

You screamed and pulled away, tearing your arm from its grip. Shelves were knocked over and clothing was sent flying as you tried to escape.

The mannequin just watched you as you fumbled madly for the door.

The glass rattled in the frame from how hard you slammed it shut behind you. You sped off down the street, moving faster than you ever had before. You collapsed on your lawn by the time you reached the house, taking deep breaths.

Nothing had followed you. Everything was okay.

With shaking fingers, you dialed your boss’ number and told her you would be taking a sick day. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going anywhere near there again.

Not to mention the mess you made… you were definitely getting fired.

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #slenderman #splendorman #trenderman #ticci toby #nurse ann #masky #cp masky #marble hornets #lost silver #puppeteer #x reader

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sukiglycerin · 4 years

Text

13 minutes || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero (therefore aged up)!katsuki bakugou x fem manager!reader

* genre: pro-hero!au, smut, this is the longest warning section i’ve ever written, mainly pwp, fluff at the end :>

* words: 2,266 of all this fiLTH

* warnings: AGED UP KATSUKI, ugh tumblr deleted my super long tags so now i must redo them, this is very long & filthy, whew let's go, dom!katsuki, sub!reader, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, office sex, reader is bent over the desk ofc, master/sir kink, a little pet play (he calls reader pet/kitten), dirty talk, degradation, fingering, breast/nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, orgasm denial (how contradicting), cunnilingus (f receiving), cum eating (both ends), talks of safeword/colour system but no actual usage, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (pls use protection irl!!), creampie, reader is kinda masochistic, pussy slapping, crying sex (no angst here tho), hair-pulling (m receiving if it matters), implied subspace, aftercare !! the best part !!

* a/n: so tumblr messed up sO much while i tried to post this, so i hope you like this! ty @toishi for sticking with me and all of my ramblings while writing this! (and ofc @dylanxmin for her lovely support!!) this is a VERY spicy thing, and almost had actual plot before i cut it out. if you like this, i may do a fluffier pt 2!! enjoy!

being a pro-hero's manager has its perks. the pay's good, the coworkers are pleasant, and travelling is pretty fun. to you, the best part is that you get to see your boyfriend of three years every day.

you've been dating pro-hero ground zero secretly, and you happen to be his manager. honestly, the latter came first in chronological order, but that doesn't matter anyway.

you first encountered ground zero (or as he was called back then, katsuki bakugou) during your time in the business course at ua. he bumped into you quite ungracefully, cursed at you, pushed past you, then let a startled but apologetic kirishima to apologize. it was fate, in kirishima's words.

such fate led you to manage ground zero five years ago, after slowly climbing your way up from managing smaller heroes to finally reaching the popular ones. bakugou had been the only popular hero with a manager opening; you learned why soon after being hired.

the spiky haired hero had a short fuse and a tendency to cuss. he was picky, indecent, and often reckless with his public image; the calmest you'd ever seen him was when he blew up villains and screaming "die."

however, things change - things change a lot. five years later, you're here: katsuki mumbling sweet things into the crook of your neck as his hands tease the waistband of your pencil skirt.

"katsuki, we can't- you have a meeting in fift- hng-!"

his lips find yours quickly, effectively quieting you down. you're sitting on katsuki's desk - a polished cherry wood thing that took too many weeks to find - as he towers above you, pinning you to your spot.

katsuki pauses, and pulls back, licking his lips. "sounds like a you problem."

"we really can't, this meeting is really important-" bakugou's fingers nimbly find their way under your skirt, deadly close to your panties. he really isn’t paying attention to you.

"and i'm the star of the show, the number one pro-hero-" if he hears you mutter 'that's midoriya,' he ignores you and continues, "-aren't i the most important one here?" his fingers rub your clothed clit, smirking at your audible gasp.

"k-katsuki, no-" you know he can feel the wet patch growing on your panties; from the way his determined eyes lock on yours, you know he won't be finished until you are too.

"how long do we have now, love?”

"thirteen minutes, but-"

"you're going to cum for me three times in the thirteen minutes we have."

it's not a question; it's a fact. you are going to cum three times in the next fifteen minutes.

“once on my fingers,” he puts a finger up, “once on my tongue,” another finger, “and once on my cock. the only thing you have to worry your pretty head about-“ he leans in close to your ear, voice dropping a couple octaves, “-is keeping quiet enough.”

his fingers push your panties to the side with ease and play teasingly with your wet folds. he circles your clit with his middle finger slowly, dragging out each languid movement with a smirk on his face. you flush at the lewd, wet noises he elicits from your pussy. you know that his fingers are coated in your arousal.

you look down in embarrassment, gripping the edge of the desk, and stare at the cotton material of your pencil skirt.

"slut." the word is spat from katsuki's mouth. his hand holds your chin; his touch barely ghosts your skin, but the command still exudes dominance. he tips his hand up, so you're looking into his intense eyes.

"look at me, slut." the word is emphasized by the plunging of three fingers in your wet core. you whine, unprepared by the sudden intrusion. your legs move uncomfortably against the fabric of your skirt, which restricts you from spreading open your legs wider. you want to clamp down on katsuki's hand, but you know that that won't end well.

"patience, kitten." either by intuition or his own frustration, he speaks up gruffly. "all in due time." his thumb starts to knead your aching bud as he thrusts in and out, knuckle deep in your pussy. glancing at the clock, he grows impatient, quickly attempting to unbutton your blouse before ripping off the rest entirely. you'd normally protest - you liked that blouse - but you find yourself falling short of words at the pressure on your pussy. katsuki goes at a more rigorous pace, thrusting fast and deep while his free hand snakes itself under your bra to play with your nipple. the added stimulation has you keening to his touch, suddenly aware of his every touch. he pulls your bra cup down, freeing your breast and bending down to to encapsulate the hardened bud in his mouth. his tongue circles your areola and flicks your nipple; meanwhile, his pace on your pussy hasn't relented.

soon, you feel the telltale feelings of pleasure bubbling through your body. you tense against him, gasping out his name and clawing at his back. your knees buckle as your climax washes over you, making your body go limp in his hand. bakugou lets go of your nipple with a popping noise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. his other hand pulls out, and he outstretches three cum-soaked fingers to you, an unspoken code for "suck." you open your mouth obediently, sucking your salty juices off his slim digits.

"fuck," he cusses, eyes blown out wide in lust. "so fuckin' obedient for me, hm? such a fuckin' whore for your master."

you let go of the fingers in your mouth and nod.

his non-wet fingers grip the bottom of your skirt. "off. now."

"yes, master." you feel his eyes pierce you, watching you unzip your skirt and panties and let them pool around your legs. he holds you steady as you step out of the garments and toss them to the side.

"sit up." he taps the desk lightly.

"it'll get w-w-"

"did i stutter?"

"n-no, master."

he hums while you acquaint your bottom with the cold, hard wood of his desk.

"colour system, love?" his voice gets soft and he breaks the hard persona. his eyes are gentle, searching yours for any speck nervousness or hesitancy.

"green for 'i'm good, keep going,' yellow for 'slow down,' and red for 'stop.'"

"and if you can't speak?"

"three taps for red, two for yellow."

"what's your colour right now?"

"green, master."

his face hardens at the title. "always a good pet for me, aren't you?"

you nod. "yessir."

he spares another glance at the clock on the wall. "you're going to be a fucking good slut for master in the next 7 minutes, understand?"

"y-yessir."

"what was that, pet?"

"yessir."

"better be. spread." his fingers gesture to your legs.

he kneels before you, your drenched core spread out and on display for him at eye-level.

"so wet," he marvels, making your face heat up. like this, you're completely exposed to him; your breasts free from your bra, nipples hard against the cool air, and your pussy glistening under the light of his office.

he licks a long stripe up your folds, testing the waters. by now, the original intensity of your previous orgasm had worn off; despite this, when his tongue met your clit, you found yourself reaching for his hair, gripping it tightly. he groans into your pussy, poking his appendage through your folds and administrating kitten licks up and down your inner lips to slurp up whatever juices were left. the teasing doesn't last for long, however. he starts to suck harshly on your clit, making you buck into his face in overstimulation and surprise. you cry out at his unceasing ministrations, tugging on his hair and your toes curling. the overstimulation is too much; pain mixed with white hot pleasure blinds you. the lips closed against your clit go hard; you're not even sure how katsuki can breathe going at such a pace. the pain starts to blend into pure pleasure. you throw your arm over your mouth in attempt to stifle your noises, eyes shut tight. you feel tears line your eyes as you cum again, katsuki's tongue pressed flat against your pussy. the pleasure is five times more intense now; you cry out, sure anyone standing outside heard, and clutch katsuki's hair as you recover from your orgasm. your pussy convulses violently, and you pant in a similar manner.

"k-katsuki- master- i-" you breathe hard.

"one more for me, okay?" he rasps into your ear. "i know you can take it, kitten. so good for me..." his chin and lips shine with your essence.

you nod, spreading your sore legs further apart.

"colour?" he checks, hands starting to reach for his belt.

"green."

he nods and unbuckles, pulling his pants and boxers down to reveal his cock. katsuki leans in, hot breath fanning against you as he peppers kisses on your clavicle.

"you're gonna be a good cocksleeve for master, yeah? gonna be all fuckin' tight and wet for me?"

you whimper a shaky "yes," the head of his cock nudging your folds.

he eases his full length into you, the stretch always being something you always need to get used to. katsuki's not particularly girthy, but for what he lacks in girth he makes up in sheer length. he pushes in gently; it's clear on his face he wants nothing more than to ravage you, but he understands your needs.

"f-fuck," you gasps as he bottoms out.

"ring ring ring," the tone of katsuki's phone rings through the room.

you lean over the desk, reading the caller id.

"it's horikoshi corp?" you say to katsuki.

"pick it up." there's a mischievous gleam in his eyes, but there's no time to dwell on it before you pick up the call.

"is this the office of ground zero?" a male voice asks through the line.

"yessir-" katsuki starts moving inside you, to which you bite your lip. "h-how can i help you?"

"this is regarding the meeting scheduled for today?"

"y-yes?" you gasp, flinging a hand over your mouth as bakugou starts thrusting into your core roughly.

"i'm terribly sorry to say this, but it appears that our boss has come down with food poisoning from lunch."

"don't- don't worry about it-" your knuckles are white gripping the edge of the desk, and you're slightly bent over it.

katsuki continues to hammer into you, speed increasing quickly.

"could we reschedule to friday, at 1:30pm?"

your mind skims through katsuki's friday schedule. "u-um... y-yes-! that can be arranged..." you're not sure if he can hear the wet slapping noises coming from your end of the line - but the thought of him knowing your dirty deeds with katsuki made you even wetter.

"alright, thank you!" the man sounds relieved. "goodbye."

"bye!" you half slam the phone down on the receiver, chest heaving.

"it's your lucky day, huh, kitten?" katsuki purrs smoothly.

you nod, pressing yourself onto his desk so you're bent over it for him.

"such a fucking slut," you can hear the pride in his voice. "you like that, yeah? i can feel you clenching all around me. you're my fuckin' cockslut, right?"

your head bobs rapidly up and down. "yes, master- i'm-" you feel the familiar heat start to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

"don't you dare fucking cum yet," he growls in your ear, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust.

he presses you even harder into the desk, your breasts pushed up against the cold wood.

"k-katsuki...!”

"my little pain slut, isn't that right?"

"y-yes-! f-fuck, master-"

he slaps your clit, making a loud, wet sound resound through the room.

it almost sends you over the edge. almost.

"don't- cum-" katsuki grunts in between thrusts.

you're so close it almost hurts. the pleasure overwhelms you; you shut your eyes tight to distract yourself, but you can only hear the sound of katsuki's heavy breaths and his cock slamming into you.

"katsuki- master- please, i can't-" tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. the pleasure is just too much, beating into you incessantly.

"you can, and you will," he orders, voice firm.

"k-ka- ka-" you blubber, tears dropping from your cheeks. you know you won't be able to hold it much longer; your pussy aches in need of release. "pl- pl, ka-"

"cum." it was the only word you needed to find yourself toppling off the edge, euphoria rippling over you violently. tears stream down your cheeks, cum gushing from your heat. you're as limp as a doll in katsuki's arms, slumped against his desk. your pussy throbs, contracting violently - somewhere amidst your orgasm, katsuki had finished as well. your cheeks are wet, blouse thrown somewhere on the ground. your breathing is shaky as katsuki picks you up, stroking your hair delicately.

"hey, honey," he kisses your forehead softly.

you mumble incoherently, eyes drooping shut.

"you did so well for me... i didn't hurt you, did i?"

"no, 'suki.... 's good.... i liked it a lot..." you nuzzle into him, his body warmth comforting. katsuki smells of vanilla and caramel, a sweet combination that feels undeniably like home.

you don't remember many of the next events well; everything blurs into a haze. you feel him gently thumbing your tears away, slipping your skirt and panties on and buttoning up one of his extra dress shirts on you.

the last thing you hear is a gentle "i love you," and before you know it, you're drifting asleep.

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

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avewritesmr · 3 years

Note

hello hello, may i request prompt 37 (“is this some kind of joke?”) with jeonghan (seventeen) but,,, make it Angst?

Prompt: “Is this some kind of joke?”

Word Count: 1804 words

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Male!Reader

Group: Seventeen

Genre: Angst

TW: there is mild cursing but nothing explicit

A/N: Sorry this took a while anonie, I am really happy to get back to writing though, if you want I might do a part 2 to this, hated leaving my baby so hurt in the end 💖

Jeonghan was scrolling through his camera role looking for a photo he had taken earlier of Joshua, he had complete control of the groups twitter that day and he was planning to use it to his full advantage in order to expose all his members.

His playful grin faded into a soft one when he found the picture he had been looking for right next to a picture of y/n pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He had yet to call y/n today and now that he saw the picture he wanted nothing more than to dial his boyfriends number and hear his voice.

Quickly selecting the picture with Joshua he clicks the tweet button without giving the action much second thought.

He waits a couple seconds before he reloads the app to see his tweet and his stomach drops, eyes widening.

That is the wrong photo, as quickly as his shaky fingers can move he works to delete the tweet, when he has it deleted he lets out a sigh of relief.

The dread is still ever present in his heart and his heart is still beating like he just ran a marathon, but that photo was not up for more than a minute and Jeonghan is going to pray that whoever saw it did not take a screenshot or save it.

His hands are shaking as he slides down on his bed, he squeezes his fingers tightly to try and stop the shaking, taking deep breaths to calm his heart beat.

Should he tell y/n? or a manager? maybe Seungcheol? Should he tell anyone at all?

It is almost as if God hears his questions and sends a reply because Seungcheol chooses this moment to walk into his room.

Seungcheol is about to say something but Jeonghan talks first, “I made a mistake.”

“Okay?” Seungcheol is looking at him in concern.

“I was going to post this silly picture of Joshua but I accidentally posted a picture with y/n and I deleted it in less than a minute but people must have already seen it.” Jeonghan feels the words tumble past his lips and his hands are shaking more than they were before, fingers cold and cramped.

He watches Seungcheol’s face change from concerned to shocked to slightly angry to concerned again.

“It is okay, you deleted it, so we just have to hope no one is going to re-post it right?”

Jeonghan hadn’t been expecting that response, in the few seconds of silence that passed he had expected Seungcheol to grab him and throw him out of the dorm telling him to leave the group as irrational as the thought was.

“What if they do?” Jeonghan asks, he feels nauseas and a little faint and the thought that he shouldn’t be this scared of people knowing he is in a relationship crosses his mind.

“We deal with it when it happens, right now I am gonna go talk to manager and you’ll go over to y/n’s dorm and give him a warning.” Seunghceol shoots him a reassuring smile but Jeonghan is anything but reassured.

Minutes ago he had been excited to call y/n, ease some of the stress the other was feeling from all the promotions he was doing for his album, but now just the idea of going to see the other makes Jeonghan wish the fan hanging from his ceiling would fall down and strike him dead.

Seungcheol can se the fear in his eyes and he moves forward to hug him, “It’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, there are worse things in the world than a boy who likes to kiss other boys.”

Jeonghan nods, he can’t agree more, but he worries that the general public doesn’t agree, he doesn’t know if the company agrees, and he doesn’t know if his career is standing on its last leg.

“I am sorry, all of you guys will get hurt by this.” The guilt trumps all emotions in that statement, the thought of his career coming to an end isn’t as scary as the thought that he might be dooming his friends careers as well. It isn’t fair.

“You don’t have to be, just go to y/n talk with him about it, I’ll work thigns out with management don’t worry.” Jeonghan nods hugging Seungcheol one more time before he grabs his coat and a face mask, he shoves his phone into his pocket unceremoniously, hell just go to y/n’s apartment, and try and figure out what to say on his way there.

He gets there too soon, the trip that usually feels like it drags on for way too long today feels like it finishes too quickly today despite Jeonghan making an effort to walk slower than he usually does.

He hesitates with his fingers hovering over the keypad before he decides to knock instead, his hands are sweaty and shaking, his stomach is knotted and uncomfortable, and his heart is beating so fast it is almost painful. He shakes his head in hopes of clearing it and forming some form of coherent sentence in his head.

y/n opens the door with a smile on his face, he is wearing a pair of jeans and a hoodie, he must have been getting ready to head out.

“Jeonghan? Why didn’t you just let yourself in?” y/n’s smile fades a little when he sees Jeonghan’s hunched figure, “Is something wrong?”

“I made a mistake, I am sorry.” The words leave Jeonghan’s mouth before he can think them through.

y/n’s eyebrows furrow and he moves aside beckoning Jeonghan into the apartment.

“Come in, take of your jacket and get comfortable then you can tell me.”

y/n closes the door and leans against it watching Jeonghan slip of his shoes and face mask, he doesn’t take off his jacket because his entire body feels like its been dipped in ice cold water.

“What’s wrong?” y/n asks the question again guiding Jeonghan into the living room.

Jeonghan shakes his hands lightly and swallows a lump in his throat trying to decide how to approach the situation, he can skip around it a little or get right to the point.

He surveys the room they’re in and judging by the packed backpack and clothes y/n is wearing there isn’t much time to waffle around so he gets right to the point.

“I acciedntly posted a photo of us together, while trying to post a picture of Joshua.” opposed to the last time when he told Jeonghan the words don’t come asily this time the come out as a forced breath and they make the air in the room feel like it has gotten so much colder.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he flinches at y/n’s harsh tone and looks up at him wide eyed, “If it’s a joke it isn’t very funny.”

Jeonghan shakes his head taking a step towards y/n, “It isn’t a joke, it was an accident and I took it down really quickly, and I came to tell you because I was scared if someone saved it they would start spreading it around.”

y/n scoffs, “An accident? Jeonghan you are probably going to end both of our careers, that isn’t a fucking accident.”

Jeonghan looks up at y/n with tears in his eyes, “I know, I know, but it really was an accident, you’re talking as if I did it on purpose but I didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter if it was an accident or not, it was stupid, you should have been more careful.” y/n is glaring at him so intensely Jeonghan feels like there is laser coming out of the others eye and burning a hole into his head.

“But I took it down and nothing seems to have reappeared about it yet, maybe no one saw it, or they didn’t recognize you, please don’t be angry.” Jeonghan can feel the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over.

y/n just sighs rubbing at his forehead, “I don’t have time for this, I have to go for a radio show right now, so lets hope nothing pops up online.” He turns to look at Jeonghan his eyes still cold.

“We’ll figure this out later, you can wait here if you want.” y/n walks past Jeonghan and grabs his bag, slipping on his shoes, Jeonghan stands in his place and watches the older leave without so much as a second glance his way.

When he hears the front door close he lets go of his tears and sobs silently into his hands, worse than losing his career he might lose his boyfriend over this mistake, he thinks again that it isn’t fair, he shouldn’t have to be so scared about having a boyfriend.

When he feels like he has no more tears to cry he slips of his coat and deposits it on the coach moving to y/n’s room, he grabs on of the others hoodies and slips it over his head snuggling into the smell.

He curls up on the couch and prays that when y/n gets back he’ll be less angry and more understanding about the situation.

#svt #seventeen #yoon jeonghna #seventeen x reader #seventeen x male reader #male reader #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #jeonghan x male reader #male reader fic #kpop angst #seventeen x reader angst #svt yoon jeonghan #male reader insert

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serpentinesarang · 4 years

Text

Familiar

pairing: chan (bang chan) x gender-neutral reader

genre: no smut, married!au, emotionally heavy, lots of plot build-up/context description, slow burn, fluff at the end, second-person POV

word count: 2098

content warnings: themes of death, depression/grieving, lack of eating, swearing; this is a SERIOUS piece that may make you cry. please proceed with caution and take a mental breather after.

summary: your husband chan died a year ago, and life hasn’t been the same until you meet a peculiar stray dog whom you decide to keep.

a/n: partly inspired by the netflix anime film “a whisker away.” hint hint: australian dingo...

korean key:

⦿ sasaengpaen (사생팬) = crazy spy-like super fans, sasaeng for short; pronounced “sah-seng”

⦿ annyeong (안녕) = multipurpose word that translates to hi/bye and no; in this story, it’s used in the hi/bye sense. pronounced “on-yawng”

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Preface

It happened a year ago. The crash. The sasaengs. The coma. The stroke. The doctors’ denial of life support. The funeral.

Your husband Chan had died tragically after a catastrophic car accident outside the JYPE building in Seoul when a group of sasaengs tried to take control of an already chaotic situation on the street. Chan had been rushed to the hospital, so bloodied and so internally fractured that he immediately fell comatose and incidentally suffered a stroke due to the bodily trauma.

You’d begged with all your might for the doctors to put him on life support, but they refused, saying he’d be vegetative for the rest of your life. They even sent an insurance liason up to Chan’s ICU suite to speak with you about having to pay for his life support as long as you continued to live, and you were just so beaten down by all the hospital staff that you agreed to release his body to the funeral home his parents had flown in to coordinate with.

And you were destroyed.

Your employer had given you three months’ bereavement, but you still couldn’t bear to go to work for four more months. You slept 12 hours on Chan’s side of the bed every night and only wore his clothes during those four months of intermittent crying. After you used up the remaining sick days and paid time off you’d accrued over the years, your manager finally terminated you for missing too much. The next two months were spent on the couch with no appetite and inconsistent sleep, the good memories of Chan continually flooding back to you at random times.

This was when you’d decided it was time to get your shit together because the scale declared you 15 lbs [7 kg] lighter; the circles under your eyes scared you each time you dared to glance in a mirror; and your phone’s mailbox had filled to its limit with messages from anyone and everyone offering their condolences for your loss. So three months passed, and you were able to gain back most of your weight, sleep more consistently, and clean out your social media.

Those last three months were the cleansing your soul so desperately needed, and for the first time since the incident, you were starting to feel a level of normalcy again. You’d even pushed yourself to get back into the workforce, and thankfully, this new employer didn’t cause a scene about your 11-month gap in job history.

The dominoes were falling back into place. Sadly, you’d felt compelled at one point to ghost the rest of Stray Kids because it was just too painful for you to act like you could handle yourself around them. Out of worry and compassion, they all individually sent you messages here and there, but you told yourself maybe in the future. After all, your life had disintegrated to less than dust, so you were your priority moving forward.

Now

Your phone’s alarm wakes you to another dreary November day. It’s a snippet of an audio message he’d left you long, long ago when he was away for a tour. “Good morning to you, [Mr./Mrs.] Bang, my beautiful angel. I’m thinking of you as always. Text me when you get this. Love you, honey.”

November 25th, to be exact: the one-year anniversary of Chan’s death.

You sigh, whispering to the ceiling, “I love you too, baby.”

You pick yourself up, go through all the usual motions, and head to work in the morning snow, trying to keep your mind as numb as you’ve been recently feeling. Perhaps you’ll do a little something once you return home, you resolve.

The workday passes; the snow continues blanketing the city; and nothing really good or bad has happened in the meantime.

You step off the elevator onto your floor of the apartment building. You’re freezing from the windchill, mindlessly deleting spam email on your phone while trudging in your heavy boots to your door.

Once you reach your unit, something at the edge of your eyesight causes you to freeze. You take in the sight before you: a large, tan and white dog lying on your welcome mat with its front paws extended toward you. Its deep brown eyes stare right into yours, and you feel all the air in your lungs disappear.

“A-annyeong,” you murmur softly, pocketing your phone.

The dog blinks in response, not moving his gaze.

You crouch down in front of the dog slowly, trying not to spook it. “Are you lost, sweetie?”

The dog emits a barely audible whimper, and you can’t tell if it’s sad or relieved to have been found. It’s not wearing a collar, and its abundant fur looks clean, like an inside pet.

Feeling conflicted, you purse your lips. “You must be... I’ll tell you what: you be good and stay here for me, okay?”

The dog exhales sharply before closing its eyes.

Wow, well trained pupper, you think to yourself as you rise. You spend the next five minutes ringing the entire floor’s doorbells, even banging on the doors of the units that didn’t respond to the bell. Each and every neighbor of yours denies owning a dog that looks like a Shiba Inu, and they all claim to not know anyone else who might have one.

“Fuck,” you hiss under your breath after the last person closes their door.

Returning back to your unit, you find the dog hasn’t moved an inch, but it must recognize your presence because its eyes fly open, and its head shoots up toward you.

“I guess you’re mine for now,” you address it. You enter your passcode and push the door open, pointing expectantly with an approving facial expression for the dog to understand it’s okay to go in.

And it happily trots inside, sniffing around the entryway while you shuck off your boots, parka, and other winter layers.

The dog seems to be waiting for you to finish because, once you turn toward it, it immediately turns around and saunters to the bedroom on the far end of the apartment. You keep up at its side and determine with a friendly visual inspection that this dog is a boy.

Approaching Chan’s old side of the mattress, he turns back to you and sits down in front of the nightstand, digging his eyes into yours once more.

Your brow furrows as you try to piece together what’s happening. “What? What’s up, sweetie?”

The dog replies with a heartwrenching whimper, angling his snout forward as if asking for you.

You pad closer and sit on the backs of your legs. “Will you let me touch you?” you ask him softly, raising a hand for him to sniff.

Oddly, he straight up disregards your hand and leans forward to lick your chin.

“Awww,” you gush at his sudden affection. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” You stroke the top of his tan head, and again, the poor thing whimpers while leaning into your touch.

You scratch at the bases of his ears before cupping his jowls in your hands. “You’re such a sweet boy, you know that?”

The dog blinks rapidly, pushing forward again to gently lick at your unsuspecting lips this time.

Giggling and stroking his front shoulder areas, you say, “Ohh, thank you, thank you. I haven’t been kissed in a year, so I appreciate that, sweet boy.”

A moment passes, but you have to do a double-take when you notice the thick stream of fluid cascading from his shiny eyes.

You gasp. “Oh nooo, are you crying?” With your thumbs, you carefully wipe away his tears. “Don’t cry, sweetie. I did enough of that for nine months straight, and I can’t have you making me sad too,” you confide with the animal, stroking his head again.

He responds by standing on all fours and pressing the top of his head to your own forehead, and you go breathless again.

He’s so human-like... so emotional... you think, raising your arms over his body and hugging him. You stay there for a solid minute before he finally pulls back and sits again.

You sigh quietly, evaluating his expression. “I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long day.” You nudge your chin up to the bed. “Wanna rest for a while?”

The dog ever so quietly barks with its snout closed, as if in acknowledgement, and he waits for you to move first. So you rise and position the pillows on Chan’s side against the wall for you to sit upright. You spread your legs in a butterfly position, and without you having to beckon or give permission, the dog hops to the corner of the bed and situates himself between your legs. You notice then that he’s eyeing something on the wall above the bed.

The professional landscape shot of Chan with his arms tightly curled around you under a peony-adorned gazebo near a lake, the day of your wedding. You were looking into each other’s eyes with the sincerest of smiles.

You turn to glance at the framed photo. “Yeah,” you sigh deeply, turning back to the dog. “That’s Channie, my husband.”

The dog picks up on your change of tone and scoots forward as close as he can get, resting his paws on your upper thighs and his snout on your stomach. His gleaming eyes practically compel you to go on.

Placing your hands on his soft back, you continue in a strained voice: “He was taken from me last year, on this day actually, November 25th. He was so badly hurt in the accident that he went into a coma and had a stroke a couple days later.”

You pause, and the dog whimpers on your stomach, his sad gaze making your throat constrict and your eyes water.

How can a dog be so in tune with me...?

You push that question away with a sigh and bring a hand to rest on his head. “I never left the hospital. The nurses had to kick me out of his room when he passed. And I cried my eyes out for almost a year.”

Your eyes drift off, glancing at the ceiling and the walls while remembering your grieving process. “So now I sleep on his side of the bed... I wear only his clothes at home... and I shower with the same things he always did. He’s always with me, even when I’m not wearing my ring.”

Tears have started falling onto your cheeks, and you look back down at the quiet dog to find him crying again as well, his glassy eyes still intently watching you.

An uncontrolled sob escapes your lips before you mash them together, trying to keep it together.

“I love him so much,” you throw your head back against the wall. “I love him so, so fucking much,” you whisper, the hot tears falling faster now.

You hear the dog whine rather loudly, so you focus on him again as he raises his head. “He was my person, and now I have no one,” you blubber, using your hands to angrily wipe away the tears.

The dog replies with a seemingly uncharacteristic growl, its eyes still very soft in contrast.

“Okay, okay, now I have you,” you concede, catching your breath. “I don’t know where your parents are, and I’ve been alone for too long.” You pause, almost unwilling to continue. “Will you stay with me, sweet boy?”

He barks out a high-pitched yelp, spastically moving his paws against you so they’re digging into your abdomen now.

Cheered up by the dog’s responsive expressions of emotion, you burst into a brief laugh and scratch the underside of his snout. “You remind me of him, you know. Soft hair, gorgeous brown eyes, super caring.”

Again, he whimpers, very quietly this time. You tenderly kiss his moist nose. “I’ll call you Chris... because only I was allowed to call him that.”

Chris responds by licking your lips again.

Your random gasp makes him jump a little. “Oh my gosh, I bet you’re hungry or thirsty!” You try shifting on the bed, but Chris’s weight holds you firmly. “Do you want food?”

Chris lowers his snout, resting it on your chest now. He doesn’t make any noises, but you can guess what he means by this.

“Okay, Chris, I gotcha. We’ll stay here and eat when you’re ready,” you promise as you smooth his pointed ears backward.

...

I found them... if only they knew it’s me... I’m Channie, and I’m still yours, honey.

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nozomijoestar · 3 years

Text

I used to have this story exclusively on my Ao3 but since I deleted that last December its taken me months to feel any rhythm of comfort uploading writing online again be it original or not; so I’m finally planning to reupload stuff I saved that isn’t already tagged here

Originally written under ‘Start and Start Again’ for She-Ra Fluff Bang 2020 and my first standalone novella length thing at 10k

The journey of Catra’s ever changing life begins with one step forward

It started as a bump on her stomach. A mild thing no bigger than her fist. Yet it stuck out the way the crown piece of a treasure hoard shines. Catra stumbled backwards; gripped the sink to keep her balance. She stared deeper into the full length mirror. The bump remained, had it gotten taller in this light? It was smooth to the touch or rather as smooth as fur could be. The softness of her was something to take great pride in. Anyone who assumed her messy were proven dead wrong. Now wasn't the time for petty thinking however.

Catra sank to the floor still clutching her stomach. She felt it join as part of her, this new thing, and if she strained her ears she just knew it had a heartbeat. A child. Adora's- no their child. She has to swallow to not shout 'Holy Shit!!!' at the top of her lungs. Instead it makes her bite her lip until blood trickles. Catra winces then recovers; she stands and runs water to splash on her face. The woman staring back in the vanity mirror is smiling under the wet bangs sticking to her forehead; smiling like an idiot now disheveled. She pivots and bolts out the bathroom yelling.

"Hey Adora! Adora come over here!"

"Catra? What's going on this early?"

She dashed around the sofa through the living room to find Adora rubbing her eyes and slinking out of bed. She heard her mumble already about waking ahead of schedule; it made her try not to roll her eyes. Of course she'd fixate on that right out of sleep. Before she let her get in another word Catra stopped in front of her. She grabbed Adora's hand and pressed it to her stomach. A lopsided grin was all she could muster for a reply. It took a few seconds, then Adora's eyes went wide. She saw her stare at the bump with such reverence Catra felt tears fall.

"You're...we're..."

"I know."

Adora pulled her down into a hug so tight Catra had to tap her to ease it.

"I'm gonna be a parent...Catra you're gonna be a parent! It's, it's real. It's actually happening."

"Told ya it'd work out."

Then Adora sucked in a huge breath and went rigid gawking at the ground.

"Oh my god I'm gonna be someone's mom. I dunno the first thing about babies! Catra who do we even ask-"

"Um, all of Bright Moon and our friends? They already know we're trying did'ja think they'd ditch us now?"

"No! No of course not. It's just this is actually happening. What if I mess it up already and something goes wrong o-or they come and don't like me- can babies think their mom is lame before they're born? What if-"

"Adora. Do you still want a baby?"

"Yes. More than anything. Sorry I know I'm being-"

"Hey. That's all you need; someone like you is gonna do fine. So stop or you'll give yourself a heart attack before the kid's even here."

Catra sat beside her and rubbed circles on her back. A sigh filled the room when Adora leaned her head on Catra's shoulder. She planted a kiss in her hair and wrapped an arm around her.

"...I wouldn't have my kid with someone I knew'd be shit at it. Or to me. You're you Adora, I didn't choose anyone else."

"I know I know. We're nothing like Sha-"

For an instant something stops Adora as if she's been gagged. Her eyes go wide again haunted by the sinister. She tries speaking only to make a strangled sound. They exchanged a look of understanding no one should have. A look of indescribable pain. Shared pain. Adora strains to start a third time when Catra finishes it.

"Nothing like Shadow Weaver. And we never will be. You can kill me if I do."

"I wouldn't go that far but...me too."

Wordlessly she let Adora slide against her and rest on her chest. Catra purred as she traced her claws along Adora's arm. Her tail coiled around Adora's waist when she bent to kiss her cheek. A hum is all she gets in reply; its more than enough.

"We're better people now, aren't we?" She asks.

"We'll always be better if we try. You're right I shouldn't be so hard on myself. Catra?"

She saw the eyes staring up fill with worry like it held the same value as water. Like it was something born in Adora's hands and for all their years since childhood it may well have been. Like it paired perfect with the tension stiffening her face. A face that deserved only to finally be soft forever. Catra whispered already knowing she wouldn't cure anything. It was too late of course; shame was her birthright too.

"I'm happy. I'm so happy right now I can't put it into words even for you. But that doesn't change what I've done. Who I was before this, before this version of us...back when we woke up everyday wondering if that'd be the last time."

"Catra no."

"I hurt you, Adora. I keep saying it because it's never going away ok? I hurt you, I hurt Sparkles and Arrow-Boy, Scorpia...Entrapta. The entire damn planet can bite me in the ass someday and I'd understand. The Horde destroyed. This being the happiest time of my life doesn't erase that."

"Catra-"

"What if I get frustrated and relapse? What if it's not even something I do it runs in families and I'm ruining them right now by being their mother because being a failure is just destiny?!"

"Enough."

The hands holding her head were firm as Adora moved to tangle them in her hair. She lowered her fully onto her lap; let herself purr with a breath in. Her eyes closed, tears fell. Adora's thumb wiped them away. It was so gentle Catra couldn't help a sob. She let everything pour out, let herself be wracked by hiccups; not one received judgement. She sat raw, bare in a place where dignity came innate not earned and knew herself still the invader. The conqueror. An aide to desolation.

The knotted feeling in her throat overpowered the new life under Adora's touch. Her stomach tingled at the caress; did their child want to scold her too?

In the end Adora's voice, that better half, guided her to reason.

"You're allowed to feel bad, remember? Like Perfuma said? I cant stop you no matter how much it hurts to hear. You're allowed to have bad days; but you're not allowed to give up. And you're not allowed to stop improving."

She let herself be pushed gently onto their bed; settled into the wholeness of their bodies resting together like they were made for nothing else. Adora is warm, her chest is safe, and her blonde hair falls across Catra better than a curtain. She purrs and purrs in her arms unable to stop, to entertain the thought for stopping. Hands wander the length of her then settle on her hips. Adora's thumb circles her fur until she wraps her tail along that forearm. They kiss and by god Catra will never get over the bliss it brings. How do you get over a free fall?

In silence she lets herself be tucked further against her; their legs entangle just as a feeling indescribable bursts from deep within. Something Catra knows she's understood for as long as she could remember that refuses to emerge in glimpses anymore. Only Adora can hope to know it in equal measure. She wants to wish that more than she's ever wanted at all. She swallows before meeting Adora's eyes. Adora has the briefest second for confusion when Catra's impulse strikes in her softest voice.

"It's like you know me better than I know myself."

Adora's face went wide then slid into the chuckle they know means contentment.

"Because you let me in."

And let her in she continued to do. For every day she grew bigger not a feasible moment did she spend alone. If she hungered the kitchen stocks ran dry, when she rested Bright Moon went still. Whenever she yowled or groaned there came Adora to massage her, Bow to shoo away prying eyes, Glimmer to order so many extra pillows for their room she thought there'd finally be something to suffocate her worse than herself.

She sat at the center of the castle gardens in the sun. Seven months had turned the seasons hot into mild into cold that'd kept her tucked in Adora's embrace, now turned again another leaf into Spring. Her back ached under a pressure fanning up her spine and centered on her swollen belly. Catra stifled a groan. Adora sat slumped over the table sound asleep opposite her. The gentle snores rumbling from her chest punctuated the bird calls like a bad note cutting a song. Catra laughed as soft as possible. Maybe their kid would pick it up from the get-go.

The ice in her drink clinked as she sipped. That's when she heard another step through the grass. She glanced at a hedge over her glass brim.

"Quit screwing around before someone else sees you."

"Ohhh Kitten you still don't know the meaning of fun do you?"

"Shhh. Adora's asleep. Thought you'd be quieter too. Must be sooo hard going soft."

A guard emerged from the shadows in white armor. The crescent standard of Bright Moon on the chest liquified then twisted into darkness. It bent and spread until a new figure emerged. Double Trouble shook out the unshaven half of their blond undercut. They stretched into a saunter across the paving stones.

Their high heels made that grating 'click clack' noise she'd once waited for in the Fright Zone. On reflex she glanced at Adora; she was still asleep, now drooling. The nasal pitch Double Trouble called a voice went lower even as their words dripped sass. Catra wished it'd never change, if you dragged the thought out of her.

"I'm surprised you've kept that tongue of yours looking like that. What a nasty little bite from an expecting mother."

"Oh really? What a tired act from a spy about to be washed out in peacetime. Hey don't sit there!"

"No darling you made the bed now lie in it for that one. This table is more than enough for a party."

They smirked at each other and knew there was nothing to forgive. Double Trouble gave Adora a once over look; their eyes lingered on Catra's stomach. They crossed their legs and arms with that flair Catra secretly imitated in the mirror. She went back to drinking.

"Seems like you two tied the knot finally. So sorry I had to miss that event, the stage called me. Color me not shocked to have seen this coming a mile away."

"...What's that mean?"

"It means darling there are countless women throughout the universe who'd kill for your position. Wife of She-Ra and now adding to this little litter you two are starting? Honey you're the most envied yet admired woman anywhere."

"Yeah well I'll believe it when I see it. That many people couldn't like me unless there was something to take."

"Dear, would you look at me?"

She did and found them filing their nails. Typical. They continued.

"Are we friends?"

A pause. Catra twiddled her thumbs. They looked her dead in the eyes now.

"Yeah."

"And her over there, what is she to you?"

"I...Adora is part of my everything."

"Why?"

"What'd you mean why?"

She stopped herself and startled; her eyes widened toward something distant, somewhere within. There from her memory stood Adora, begging her to turn rebel, Adora catching her before a drop to certain death, Adora laughing as they held hands like children again through dark tunnels. Adora overturning an empire millions strong to save her on nothing more than her heart. Adora crying always crying but never stopping.

Foolish and lovely Adora who promised her in infinite ways she was worth it.

Double Trouble grinned into a sound of contentment. They put their filer away and stared expectantly but not without care.

"I take it you know. Now tell me this and be honest- what about Glimmer and Bow? What about all these other princesses and their kingdoms? How do they treat you?"

"They're...they're kind to me. Every time we were off planet letting Adora do her thing, seeing people hold magic for the first time...putting up with my crap before this baby and...helping."

"Oh dearest me that sounds like dare I say, friendship!"' They gasped in mock surprise and laid a hand on their chest.

Catra shot them a scowl; it didn't last.

"Shut up before Adora gets up and misses another hour of sleep. Do you have any idea how she's been? I don't think she's even running on anything anymore like, everyday."

"Taking care of you I'd assume. Go on am I right?" Double Trouble asked (with a wiggle of their eyebrows of course) as if they were on the verge of a delicious secret. For all Catra knew they probably did and could eat those.

"Don't read my damn mind." She replied resting her chin on her palm.

"Darling, Catra, enough moping. Having to kick you in the rear like this when you of all people are making kittens is a bad look. Times have changed; you're not that hollow eyed puppet I knocked sense into back with the Horde. Be free, live a little, throw your kid wild birthday parties. And for the love of theatre get some better stylists for the two of you. I won't stand for a child who's moms aren't looking fabulous."

The whirlwind of gestures their hands made came to a stop. They stared yet again with that expectation bearing down on her. Catra read their eyes. It came from a good place; a place deep, deep past the snark. A veil of doubt that'd anchored in her fell away. Everyone had been kind no- was being kind. The cruelest thing they could do was throw a pregnant woman out to fend for herself and that was seven months too late. 'Or early. Weren't you found in a box? Weren't you out with the trash once time was up?'

She shuddered. No, it wasn't like that anymore, it had no right to be. No power over her; no power over her family. Catra grit her teeth and fangs flashed. She wouldn't let it. Without thinking a growl rumbled through her. Double Trouble clicked their tongue.

"Stress is extra bad for you right now Kitten. Just try to keep stepping out of that head of yours and see what's around for a change."

At last they stood and made to leave; Catra almost reached to stop them, then thought better. What more was there to add? They'd seen her for an open book. Instead she swallowed hard. The voice that called out to them bled sincerity.

"Thank you."

"Pay me back by making good choices darling."

Two weeks later she wriggles her toes on a beach in Mystacor. The sky shifts from twilight to orange dusk. She just knows she's counted the exact same number of clouds the past hour. The air is so clean it's her only barrier from passing out; every breath jolts energy beneath her aches. Adora's footsteps are easy to read when her ears perk. She wraps her tail around her at the feel of them sitting together.

Adora hums before reaching to stroke her belly. The kiss on her cheek is simple yet her blood dances in excitement. Their fingers lace together on the sand. It grounds them. Catra knows Bow is carrying something by the slightest drag in his gait; Glimmer (if you asked her Catra still had the right to call her Sparkles, Queen shit and everything aside) followed behind. The four of them were a crowd that made anything happen.

As if on cue the baby kicked. Whatever the others blathered about faded from her mind into white noise. Beside her time stopped for Adora too; this kid was already making them predictable. The wonder Catra watched spread across her face stayed fresh as ever. Glimmer and Bow went silent. She felt their eyes trace over, heard their breath hitch. She smiled.

"Can I feel it this time?"

"Glimmer you always ask that. Save room for Uncle Bow, who just so happens to have something I know they'll love!"

"My Aunt helped." Glimmer added behind a hand though Bow could hear her.

"Yes she did but only the clothes; these were all me. See for yourselves."

He revealed a set of dolls from a sack. Each were handwoven and stitched so well if she didn't know Bow she'd guess a machine's handiwork. Her breath hitched. Their likenesses were posed under his movements as Glimmer clapped with a giggle. Adora gasped, covered her mouth while her eyes watered. Big ol' softie her Adora was; yet she fought her own tears. The doll with her face wore a grin between cockiness and charm. The smarmy, ruthless, torn glare of her past self morphed on the silk in her minds eye. Its fangs were bared and its sneer cruel.

Catra shuddered and recoiled until she nearly toppled onto the sand. Her bug eyed stare at the thing matched her heaving chest. Nausea that chased a prickling sensation washed over her like a wave; a force of nature. Several deep breaths gave her some composure but the world continued to blur in a haze. Her heartbeat thrummed in her throat and hearing faded and-

And then Adora filled her vision; Adora held her tight until finally she went still. She felt her cheek cupped and fingers massaging through her hair. Though it had regrown thick as a mane despite reaching her shoulders Adora's nails found her scalp. Of course they would; she purred into the embrace and bit her lip to swallow a cry.

'Just try to keep stepping out of that head of yours and see what's around for a change.'

She blinked; the world popped back into place. They stared at her with faces on a scale from terror to worry; as if there were much difference. Bow's pleas about what was wrong stopped the instant her eyes dared linger on her doll again. He looked down and understood; away it went into the sack.

It wasn't the sentiment that upset her. He knew why. Words returned slow when he took her hand.

"I love it Bow, thanks, really; it's sweet of you. I'm sorry I...y'know. Need to keep working on myself."

"Hey don't apologize for that it's alright. I should be the one saying sorry; I didn't think it was still this bad for you."

"Whatever keeps bugging you we're here ok? No shaming, Horde Scum." Glimmer added with a smile that continued to forgive her more than Catra deserved in her opinion.

But if her own words couldn't be trusted, had she been shown forgiveness after all?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Adora, always there to cut to the point. She found her voice.

"When I saw myself it's like realizing my kid's gonna idolize me. They're gonna grow up having me everywhere if I'm really with them or not. They might even say they wanna be like their mom. Makes a feeling come over me...who I was tries to tell me they'll find nothing to be proud of."

"Oh Catra. We can't not let you feel that way but what matters is you've changed. You keep changing everyday; look at you now! You're committed to motherhood for one, you and Adora are amazing together, you helped me with so much paperwork- c'mon Bow tell her."

Glimmer nudged Bow until he nudged back; he gave Catra a stare that pierced her doubts. She'd rarely seen anyone who captured the sensation of light poking through clouds. He deserved to be called a sun. She swallowed hard again. God, this baby had her emotional.

"You've come a long way. We chose and keep choosing to help. I know it's hard but don't let whats in your head overpower that. We care. You're not gonna go back to being who you were. If you do, we'd stop you because we want to."

"But, everything with Angella-"

Fuck she mentioned it. Why? She just had to bring it up didn't she? 'Do you enjoy shooting yourself in the foot?...' A squeeze on her arm brought her mind to a halt. Damn, Adora may as well have a license in reading her mood. Glimmer sighed from a deep breath. She watched her face knit into something between grief and acceptance.

Everyone went silent, hinged themselves on whatever Glimmer said next. When she spoke her voice came thoughtful yet blunt.

"My mother is gone. Because of you or not she's not here and wallowing in anger and self pity isn't going to bring her back. I'm sure if she saw me still doing it she'd be upset. I've had the years I needed for that; the Catra in front of me isn't the same who pulled the switch."

Glimmer put a hand on Catra's shoulder and smiled when it was welcome. Their eyes met and she saw Bow nod. Glimmer continued in her queenly voice this time; gone were any hints she spent hours practicing, her mother's strength rang clear.

"Don't discredit our choice to forgive. Trust us to stay honest with you and care. Trust yourself like I know you can. Now, let's rate how cheesy my Aunt's baby clothes look!"

Catra's senses returned as if popping back into existence. Just like that they jumped into the next discussion, the next joke, the next tease. She sat with no one but herself to blame; no one but herself for guilt to feast on. Was that it? Was she still trapped in time? How simple it'd been to get an answer for once, yet beside it came more than she understood. The baby kicked again. She sighed and touched her stomach.

"Sorry you've got an overthinking Mama kid."

Adora nudged her. She turned to find that contagious smile to reel her in.

"Hey they're right y'know. Everything is gonna be ok, I promise."

Promises sacred as they were didn't lessen the pain. Her vision blurred at another stab of pain, another push as her entire body pulsed. Her lower back had it the worst; every ounce of pain coursed from that white hot center until Catra was sure she'd been reduced to jelly, if she could ever see straight again. Another scream tore her throat. Her body arched.

The hiss Adora shot out as Catra's claws dug into her hand registered faintly. She could hear Entrapta babbling some science jargon. Scorpia's frantic voice came beside Entrapta's assembly of rumbling tech no doubt worried over everything; that still didn't help an entire baby kicking out of her. Didn't anyone get that? Now wasn't the time for anything other than whatever got this tiny person out.

Catra screamed and shook and writhed and no matter how many times Entrapta said push it blurred together. She let her head loll sideways in exhaustion. Adora stared at her seized by panic that could do nothing but watch, and hated it. It scratched at the unfocused rage gathering around her like storm clouds. Whatever she said fell hazy on Catra's ears because not a moment behind Catra yelled,

"Next time you're doing this; when this is over I'm kicking your ass AdorAHHGGUUHHH!!!"

Several deep breaths and pushes later a wail robbed anything she could say. Every voice stopped, every head turned and every ear strained. It came again. A high pitched wail echoed through the room. A baby's first cry. There was no time then; no past nor future only the moments for each cry hurled into the world. She watched a shape writhe in Entrapta's arms at the foot of the bed. A flash of metal later and the umbilical cord was cut.

Everything remained a blur...then Entrapta handed her a squirming bundle. The baby rested against her easier than breathing. It was just, so right; one of the most right things Catra ever knew. Their fur matched her tan orange down to the slightly darker stripes. The hair is all Catra; she'd recognize that messy brown anywhere. It's when they blink at her for the first time, that's when Adora's blue eyes stare back.

Their hands are curled into fists and they fuss under her gaze. They blink once, twice, Catra finds herself counting everything. A purr deep enough to rattle them took her by surprise. At last her claws retracted from Adora's skin; she cradled their child between measured breaths. The instant she's released Adora doesn't waste a second coming closer.

They look at each other then their child then back again. Tears are the first thing they feel together followed by Adora's lopsided grin.

"Still wanna kick my ass?"

"Shut up and get in here dummy."

Catra's voice is hoarse but that doesn't lessen the spark in their kiss. Fingers tangle in Catra's sweaty hair and she's breathless when they pull away. There's a moment of silence until Entrapta gets the drop on them. Of course she does, she's Entrapta. They can spy the glint off her tape recorder.

"Just to confirm the baby is healthy at seven pounds eight ounces, a length of twenty centimeters, tail included, and a sex of male. Now the real question is have either of you chosen a name?"

The thick tendril of Entrapta's hair holding her recorder wiggles closer. Catra snarled on impulse and fought to not snap her teeth too.

"Don't hold that thing so close to Finn's face. The sound or whatever's gonna hurt his ears."

"Finn? You want to call him Finn? I thought you still weren't sure about any names." Adora said with the slightest confusion.

"Yeah I was but...I dunno it just feels right. Doesn't he look like a Finn? Hey Scorpia come over here! Does he or does he not look like a Finn?"

If it was possible for scorpions to move like they wanted to break the sound barrier without actually doing so, that was how Scorpia rushed over. Honestly Catra would laugh if she weren't cradling her son as if guarding her trove. Those enormous pincers are enough to shadow Finn's head as he attempts to swat one. Instead Adora gave him a finger to cling on. The tears streaking from Scorpia's eyes dripped waterfalls down her chin.

"Wildcat you're asking me what he looks like? Oh of course he's a Finn, look at that handsome little face and that tiny nose! And his hair! Catra that one is all you oh that stuff is gonna break so many combs I tell ya. He's even got his claws already; you guys have a mama's boy on your hands gosh. I remember when Flora hatched, ah good times..."

"Scorpia..."

"Huh? Oh sorry Wildcat yeah he's definitely a Finn! What'd ya think Adora? Entrapta?"

"Hmm...Baby Log Day, well day of birth. Catra has asked me if her newborn resembles a 'Finn'. As the only knowledge I'm aware of regarding this relates to fish, I will say yes. Fish and their fins are something cats enjoy and thus it is logical."

The line of stares fixed on her made Entrapta press her recorder.

"Addendum, it is also very cool."

"Adora?" Catra called.

Every stare turned toward her awaiting a verdict. Finn gurgled and squirmed when she met his stare. There fell a moment of purest silence.

"Yeah. Finn is a good name. We'll get him ready to propel through life."

There was an echoing 'thwack' when Catra smacked Adora's hair poof; Adora's giggling poured out even as Glimmer, Bow, and every Princess they knew finally appeared. Catra's bed was rushed by a crowd acting like they'd never seen an infant. Then again, no one had seen anyone of Catra's race all her life. Not that she'd asked around.

"I'm so sorry we couldn't come sooner! The meeting ran into overtime but we're here now. Where's the baby?"

Glimmer moved through the parting crowd as she spoke; her body radiated energy while her eyes scanned around. She and Bow must've shared the same mind because they were the first to study Finn. Their jaws dropped.

"So. Darned. Cute. Those ears." Bow said. His eyes practically sparkled with joy.

Glimmer looked at Catra, then Adora with a face that fought a hold on restraint.

"You guys can hold him. Just don't crowd his space." Catra said smiling.

Those were the words that released whatever collective breath everyone held. Finn was passed around the room leaving praise and awe in his wake. Everyone had their own opinions; so much so that the buzz of their chatting built Catra's headache right as Finn was finally returned. Frosta was yelling about how to shape a commemorative ice sculpture; Perfuma created several bouquets now burying Adora. Bow, Entrapta, and Scorpia stood putting their heads together discussing proper baby nutrition over the next year.

When she checked Finn his face grew red then wrinkled and that's when it hit. A full strength wail. The kind of cry to break noise into silence and validate Catra's agitation. Something resembling peace slid over the tension settling in the air. Adora managed to roll out of the flowers before looking at Catra. A nod in response is all she needs to wrangle everyone away. When the door closes for the last time only the three of them remain.

Finn continued crying though nowhere as intense. Catra took a deep breath, then she held the infant face down, tucked his arms across his chest, and finished by holding his bottom. She had to give herself credit; not a single mistake, Perfuma may as well have done it for her. The cries quieted immediately and ceased when she gently rocked him. In a minute he lay snuggled on her chest. Sleep made his eyes fight to stay open though he soon lost.

"He curls up just like you."

"Yeah. We'll see if he keeps the whole castle awake with your snoring." Catra replied chuckling.

Adora is beside her in seconds with that lopsided grin. The bed gets crowded bearing the three of them but it'll manage.

"I'm not an awful snorer ok; everyone's gonna survive when they sleep. They've done it this long."

"So you admit it's a problem."

"No! Anyway that's not important look at his chubby cheeks. That's all him."

"Babe, I think that's something every baby has. Did you forget all seven of Scorpia's kids, or even Bow and Glimmer's daughter?"

"Of course not but you're not looking at them. We made those. They're perfect and adorable as much as the rest of him."

Adora stroked Finn's hair and nestled against Catra's side. Together they yawned then laughed.

"Tired?"

"I gave birth Adora of course I am."

"Heh, sorry. Nighty night you two."

She's long learned Adora's penchant for sleeping hard enough to make the dead jealous. How exactly she can turn it on and off yet thrash restlessly, still waking up then tackling an entire day? After years Catra might never know and, some days, didn't care to anymore. It simply was. That was Adora, always rushing to do everything, solve every problem, take every blow. No matter how much their loved ones- no matter how many times Catra told her otherwise some piece stayed. It was like an infection molded into Adora's skin.

God did Catra still hate it. If Finn inherited that...

Her body ached worse than getting dragged by rope. She would know; Glimmer had been the one pulling after all. In those days of war and violence whipped into a storm this feeling was nothing new. Yet it was. Now there came a new tired setting on her bones. The tired from achieving something bigger than herself yet selfish in origin. Well, maybe the selfish part hadn't changed.

Maybe she really can be good not just do good. Adora began to snore as Catra let sleep claim her.

When Finn turns one year old Catra has settled into the race of parenthood. There's feeding time, nap time, diaper changing, the once a week checkups, and making a fool of herself so Finn laughs. One day passes with the funneled energy of several; no longer can she rise with the sun into a cage of rumination. Finn dictates her snapping awake on whims as random as the harried sleep itself.

She can't mope she just can't, he won't let her. He needs her and for the first time even beyond Adora, Catra accepts it. Not hesitating or doubting or anything else. Not the painstaking slip and climb over struggle after struggle until she and Adora were finally level. Finn right now is only a creature of needs; without her...she doesn't want to think further. There is finally someone for whom she can only give at the very beginning. The stress is worth it, it's not about her faults.

Perfuma notices of course. The way she walks ever eager into their meetings, even with eye-bags, stands far more confident than the hesitation that made her drag her feet. From the stares she gets now it's as if persecution and guilt lie only in her shadow. At least, that's what she thinks Perfuma means when one meeting she says,

"You look radiant Catra! Have you been keeping up with your personal letters?"

The morning light shines behind Perfuma making her hair resemble a glow. Combined with her chipper voice and pristine skincare (Seriously how did she keep up with seven kids at her heels?) Catra would be getting a headache right now. The old her would think Perfuma above her wielding such composure, such carefree grace. The her of the present instead replies weary but smiling.

"I have. For real this time too. No more skipping days."

"Oh lovely, I'm glad you're coming around. Self reflection and forgiveness can be so liberating; never forget you're allowing yourself space and patience. Walk with me."

She's heard those words enough to make her head spin, but now they land in her heart. A warmth seeps in the way she thinks Perfuma always intended. If she had to reflect now as they pass Scorpia's gardens, she wouldn't call messy hair, tired eyes, and what might be clothes from two days ago radiant. Perfuma probably wasn't being literal.

The trails of Perfuma's green shawl (Seemingly more fluttery today than usual; like butterfly wings if she had to compare) stop inside a wide room. Catra knows which pillow to sit on and in seconds Perfuma is across her. Their eyes meet then close before performing a basic breathing exercise. One breath in and Catra gathers her worries, one pause, on the exhale her body relaxes.

Her eyes open and find Perfuma doing the same. The ear to ear smile on her face still unnerves Catra like a pinprick; it's strange to be so happy in a world built on entropy. Catra's allowed that hesitation, right? No she's being an idiot again; she's seen Perfuma a mess, back when Scorpia and all her people contorted under Horde Prime's marching orders, under the chips once burrowed in their flesh.

Regardless she'd never given up then. She hadn't been Catra running away the minute she projected doubt on Adora. She shook her head and sighed. This was getting nowhere. Of course for her part Perfuma sat in silence, waiting for as much time as Catra needed. She smiled shyly at that.

"Sorry got lost in reflecting I guess."

"It's alright Catra that's what we're here for. Do you want to share your thoughts?"

"I think you already know after this long." Catra licked her lips nervously.

"I don't mind listening."

A long pause. She read nothing but openness in Perfuma's eyes.

"You know I've said before I was jealous of you, unnerved even. How could anyone stay so happy when the world hurts? Well now I think I understand. There's no point in dwelling on my pain. Sure I can feel it, acknowledge it, but it'll pass again. Letting it control me when it's something I'll carry forever is exhausting. All I've done then is hurt myself when for once no one else wants to. That's what Finn's made me realize."

She finished with a sigh and slackened shoulders; a woman spent at last of a pointless barrier. Isolation was no longer a badge of honor; it never had been. Perfuma wore genuine surprise like she'd heard something profound, not Catra stating the obvious. When Perfuma next spoke the words poured out afraid to stop. Afraid, Catra senses, that Catra will bolt away in embarrassment.

"I'm proud of you that's the most you've shared all at once yet. And it sounds like it truly means self-love. You're allowing vulnerability and have accepted a truth. We are all works in progress."

"Thanks. I guess I have." The tears flowing down Catra's face make her voice wobble.

"Would you like a hug?"

With a nod Catra opened her arms and wept into Perfuma's dress; she wept the choked yet earnest sobs of a child. She felt a hand pat her hair.

"What happened when you were a child, it's not your fault."

There comes a pause where Catra stiffens then pulls back but not away. Her watery eyes glisten under the light while the rest of her trembles. Her lips quiver wanting to fight a new sob on instinct; it makes her teeth grit. None of it is hostile, Catra stares at Perfuma who again brings down the axe on the final barrier tainting her heart. Despite herself the words are out; Shadow Weaver installed that defense mechanism in her, denial.

"It is...it is."

"It's not your fault."

"But it is! I deserved it because I couldn't fight back!"

"It's not your fault."

"It...I...did."

Catra's face scrunched under the weight of the lie. She gets a solemn head shake in response. The sick sensation in her chest crumbles and her body feels no stronger than jelly. This time she clings back in Perfuma's embrace. She wails. Perfuma's reassurance pierces the scared girl inside gentle as sunshine.

"It's not your fault."

When the flood within her passes they mulled over tea. The silence now settled almost as comfortable as being with Adora. If Catra thought harder on it though, maybe silences themselves didn't need Adora to be good. Maybe the truth is Adora isn't the only bond to believe in; the others have waited on Catra long enough. She feels a pang of guilt at that. It flickers then dies when she hears the question,

"How are you and Finn? You mentioned him earlier."

"Kinda speaks for itself just looking at me y'think? But uh, sorry. It's been great; busy every second and sometimes I wanna tear my hair out but...in the end I really do like being a mom. It's not just about loving Finn and having him with Adora either. It's also like...I dunno..."

"Like starting over; a second chance?"

"Yeah...yeah I think it is." Catra smiled.

"The advice I can give for that is don't forget you're still guiding him. Parenting with compassion and trust will help you both, but he must find himself and make his choices."

She had nothing to add other than slight alarm. Then the weight behind the words settled, planted seeds in her thoughts. She stared out the window drinking her tea; her mind drifted and for once the peace of it wasn't strange.

When Finn is two years old he shivers in her arms. The storm sent another sheet of rain beating against the castle. Grey covers the window glass and another lightening flash dimly illuminates the room. In the span of a blink it's gone; Finn mewled stuffing part of Catra's shirt in his mouth. Her hand ran through his hair. That seemed to relax his hold.

He looked up at her with Adora's wide blue eyes and for an instant Catra remembers being six, Adora's blanket her only comfort on nights like this.

"It's a thunderstorm Finn. I know it sounds scary but it'll pass ok? It always has before. You were too little to remember."

"Where's Mommy?"

She hears the fear getting ahold of him; she answers a touch too fast. It takes everything in her hoping he didn't notice.

"With Auntie Glimmer remember? They're meeting about adult stuff. We have to wait."

"I want her here."

"I know Finn, I know. She's coming. You're ok with me. Nothing bad will happen. Mommy's coming soon."

He nodded and though he whimpered he concentrated on Catra alone. At the next roar of thunder however he stiffened with his tail gone frizzy. The door opened bringing a stripe of light and Adora's unmistakable silhouette. Immediately Finn sprang out of Catra's arms to tackle Adora's legs. Catra hears her gasp then laugh softly as she kneels.

"Mommy! Be She-Ra!"

"Hey there to you too Finn. Why do you want She-Ra out?"

"Make bad sounds go away."

"It's the weather, I don't control that. Weren't you safe with Mama? Look she's waiting for us and I bet she stayed the whole time."

"But I want Mama and Mommy..."

Catra left bed and kneeled beside Adora. She ruffled Finn's hair; his tears were gone with a swipe of her thumb. Adora held his hands smiling while Catra went on.

"It's ok to be scared. We won't leave you not ever."

"Even when one of us isn't here with you, remember we love you. Think real hard about us when you're scared and all the bad stuff will go away."

Finn sniffled, swallowed, fumbled to speak those words they knew were sacred.

"You promise?"

"Yes." They reply together.

More thunder cracks the air signaling another swell of hissing rain. She watched as he froze squeezing his eyes shut. His hands balled into fists; he didn't flinch or cry when the storm gentled again. Now he stood trembling but no less brave. The warmth spreading through Catra was mirrored in the indescribable pride on Adora's face. She reached for her hand and it was held.

"Like that?" Finn asked, staring at them as if everything hinges on this moment.

"Just like that."

Catra kisses his forehead; it's no time at all until they hug him close. His heartbeat calms under their embrace and she purrs; it's always as hard as the day he was born. The purr she feels back widens her eyes then-

"Mama why're you crying?"

"She's happy you did it, right Catra?"

"Yeah...I'm happy Finn."

She shivers at Adora's kiss on her cheek. The touch of her breath tickling when she whispers almost makes Catra purr, for a reason neither can say aloud. She wraps her tail around Adora's wrist and listens.

"I'll get him to bed ok. Won't be long."

Catra mumbles her reply against her lips,

"I know."

They kiss and though it's a second before Adora pulls away, Catra knows peace.

At three years old Finn runs through the halls whooping and hollering. The stuffed bear glides through the air in his grasp. She knows Mr. Snuggles will need a wash when the day's done. Cupping her hands around her mouth she gently calls after.

"Don't run so fast you'll trip. Watch where you're going."

"Yeah Mama I know!"

Of course the thud she expected comes not an instant later. Even if he landed on carpet her blood pounds in panic; she sprints light on her feet toward his side. No second is wasted righting him from laying flat on his belly. She checks his arms, his legs, his face, the back of his head is fine too. He holds his wrist looking down ashamed.

"My head hurts."

"It's alright we'll get some medicine before seeing Mommy. Next time watch out ok? I might not have been here to help."

He nodded but still won't meet her eyes. Her expression falls. She sits with her hand giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze; her tail twitched nervously. Finn is silent. Far more than if he acted up or felt too embarrassed. The air itself feels heavier as if to breathe means starting a count down before down becomes up and left is right. Her voice shakes ever so slightly. Was this because of her?

"Finn? What's wrong? Does it hurt real bad?"

"Auncle Dee Tee told me something that made me feel funny. Flora and Angella said boys get hurt a lot when they play. B-But I like girl games with them too! When I fell I remembered what Auncle Dee Tee said."

"That's just silly there aren't 'boy' and 'girl' games. Just games. What'd Auncle say?"

"They said that too. They said nobody has to be a girl or boy if they don't want to. They said a big word like 'nuhncun-foming' I think."

She hears footsteps round the corner, a walk she could pick out anywhere. Adora stops then assesses; she wastes no time coming to them. Immediately her face is knit in worry and concentration. Catra knows that look better than herself. The look of a soldier, of years honed as a commanding officer, the look her fantasies once replicated dreaming of their conquest of Etheria...it's never appeared serene as it does now.

It reminds her not for the last time she's not alone.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt Finn? I knew I heard something bump on my way over."

"He tripped and fell but it's not serious. I checked already. He just has a headache."

"Good. C'mon let's go get medi-"

"Adora wait. He had something important he was saying. Finn? Can you tell Mommy what you told me?"

His expression finally lights up again; courage gathered when he stands straighter and stares at them firm.

"When I fell I remembered what Auncle told me. They said some people don't feel like they're just a boy or girl. My girl friends said boys fall a lot playing; I like their girl stuff where we don't fall a lot too! I wanna...I wanna be like Auncle. Auncle sounds like me."

They sat and the silence turned to awe. They glanced at one another then at Finn, who stood in utmost seriousness. Double Trouble's words floated to the surface of Catra's memories. She had to step outside her own head right? Well this time the world did it well enough for her. Adora as usual is the first to make a move.

"What do you want us to call you?"

"I'm Finn! I don't wanna be a boy or a girl I wanna be both! I wanna do everything I like as me. Can I be 'nunhcuhnfoming' too?"

To their surprise they chuckle as Finn looks on, conviction dropping into worry. Catra grinned and pulled Finn into a hug.

"You can be whatever you want kid including nonconforming. We're not gonna say no to anything like that."

"Do you want us to still call you 'He'?" Adora said in a tone that announces she's not worrying herself sick for once.

"Nuh uh! Auncle uses 'They'."

"Then that's what we'll use too. Thanks for telling us Finn."

Finn, they, beam from ear to ear. They picked up and dusted off Mr. Snuggles holding him close. They purr echoing through the hall; by instinct Catra joins in while Adora plants kisses all over Finn's cheeks.

"Does your head still hurt?"

"A little..."

"Let's go make it better then."

Finn is four when their troublemaking streak starts to shine. They let Adora chase them through the back gardens at a sprint. It's an unspoken dare to crown who's faster and watching from the sidelines, Catra doesn't need to guess it's Finn. Like what she imagined of any child of hers Finn scampers up a tree next. They wave a toy and blow a raspberry down at Adora who's panting for dear life. Her poor fool never stood a chance.

Adora stands hunched over, her finger raised to call a time out. She's still gathering her breath when Catra hears her force out words as she walks toward them both.

"Ok give Mommy a break for...five minutes...or forever. Ugh."

"You're too slow so I win!"

They watch as Finn sticks their tongue out again. Catra kneels to pat Adora's shoulder. She plants a kiss in her hair and grins.

"Hate to say it but I told you they'd beat you. Give it up Adora."

"I'll never...understand...how you two...do it...so unfair."

"Only She-Ra can win a race with me Mommy. If you're She-Ra it's really hard to keep up."

Still wheezing Adora glanced at Catra in defeat. A shrug is all she gets in response. Finn sits on a branch above them swinging their legs, the embodiment of confidence. Then they do something that throws off even Catra; they hang from their perch by the tail. Upside down Finn pays no heed to their gaping Mama and instead teases Adora with another raspberry. She falls on her ass yelping.

A choked giggle left Catra before rising to laughter. By the time she's full on snorting she rolls in the grass; upside down Adora scowls at them both but it's all in fun. The way she sees her blush makes her nerves go fluttery. She doesn't need to be told when their eyes meet and Catra knows it's mutual. Before anything can come of it Finn lands on the ground effortlessly.

She watches them tug Adora's sleeve; the fake modesty and flattering lilt they're piling on too thick gives them away. The fact that they can hold the performance this well is far more a Catra thing than Adora. She feels hesitant pride bubble within her. Could she have that knowing where it came from?

"Mommy my toy got stuck up there, can She-Ra get it? Because she's faster and stuff."

"Finn I can't keep transforming all week."

"Pleeease? It's the last day today; you said I could ask sometimes."

"Damnni-uh I mean I remember. Fine but only because you asked nicely."

Catra doesn't need to be an Entrapta-level genius to hear the unspoken, 'And because I totally lost too.' Finn definitely hears it by the satisfaction in their grin. With a resigned sigh Adora straightened and stretched out a hand. From the bottom of her lungs she bellowed,

"For the Honor of Greyskull!"

A blinding light engulfed Adora from the outline of a golden sword. Catra still had no idea where it always came from. It was of course magic however; you never had to question that kind of thing. She figured that was why it felt comforting, familiar, compared to hard numbers. Most of all, she muses as the light dims, magic embodies everything Adora has been long before the sword.

The light leaves dissolving into rainbow trails. They outline She-Ra's massive form towering at eight feet. Her arms are almost as thick as the tree branches themselves when she begins to climb. Finn watched with their jaw hanging and eyes wide. Their fists rest against their teeth as if every transformation will be the last each time; the anticipation mixed with joy is almost palpable when it infects Catra.

She nudges them while Adora gets tangled in leaves. Finn's rapture breaks and they flash her a knowing smile.

"You love being sneaky huh?"

"She-Ra is cool!"

They look up together and find Adora fumbling not to fall. Though She-Ra carries a noble poise Adora is very much the one nervously sweating. Catra grinned.

"She's very cool."

Adora successfully lands without a scratch; the toy rocket is the size of a river stone in She-Ra's large hand. In an instant it's back to scale when She-Ra is dismissed, a gold afterglow outlining Adora. It hits Catra then that Finn has grown at level with Adora's waist. When did that happen over the years?

"One missing toy rescued from an evil tree. It won't be eating any more any time soon."

"Thanks Mommy. No more She-Ra for a little bit."

"Right. Mommy needs breaks just like She-Ra does too."

Catra takes Adora's hand and wraps her tail around her. Her purr is soft though outmatched by the gentle kiss she gives her wife. She glanced at Finn who waits expectantly; the toy is already forgotten in favor of another game. Catra chuckles.

"Ok Finn you've had enough of bossing Mommy. This time I'll race you home."

"Loser has to give up dessert!"

"Sure kid. Ready set go!"

Like a bullet Catra sprints down the low hill; she barely hears Finn's call above the wind. In seconds they're right behind and she finds herself laughing carefree into the dusk.

Finn is five when their fur becomes their first taste of responsibility. Their tail is a mess of frizz most mornings; their thick hair resembles a mop fighting against every tame comb they own. Catra does her best to guide them, but she hasn't been five in twenty years. The memories since remain dark and pressed under the claws of greater horrors. Had she ever had time to brush herself seriously then? Not a relevant question; this isn't the time for self grieving.

Finn fusses, tries again, then scowls. They look at her with a plea in their eyes. Catra blinks then finds them slumping shoulders and lips quivering. Their hair seems messier than before for every wrong stroke. It takes her longer than she'd like to notice the budding tears.

"Hey it's ok we'll keep trying. It's hard at first but you can do it."

"Bet it's easy for you Mama."

"Why's that?"

"Because you never get messy. Your hair is always pretty."

Catra beckons and they come within her reach. She wipes their tears, smoothes their tangles best she can. They stare into her eyes with that intensity only they can muster.

"I used to be worse than you. When I was your age I had no one helping me."

"Not even Mommy?"

Catra laughed quiet and gentle, always gentle.

"She tried but she was as small as you. And we know Mommy doesn't look the same; she didn't know how. Do you know how old I was when I learned to keep my hair pretty? Really got good at it?"

Finn shook their head. She could sense the sadness give way to curiosity, to a rising hope.

"I was already a grown up. Wayyy bigger than you y'know? If it took me so long there's no rush. You keep trying until it works ok."

"Ok..."

"Let's start over. Just watch me first."

Time passes in a haze enough for her to learn Finn took after her old temper; step by patient step her hands once drenched in the blood of another life calm them to retry. They break for lunch and laugh together, their mistakes now harmless behind them. This, Catra has learned, is completion.

Princess Prom makes everyone nervous and excited equally. She watches Finn, taller than most other ten year olds, adjust their tie. She smiles remembering how many they'd tried on that morning without complaint. How when the right one came along they'd strutted prideful for her and Adora's opinion. They fidget flexing their hand and rocking on their heels. She can't blame them; the announcer's droning speech packs more formality than Catra thought was possible.

Put simply, it's boring, and they both fight a yawn. Adora doesn't notice them tap their feet together, one leading the other following, until another six minutes that pass like hours. She shushes them but when another minute crawls by she joins in. The three of them form a jagged rhythm while holding back giggles.

When the solemnity is done away with and the dance floor opens they lose Finn to their friends. She sends them off with a cheek kiss and Adora's blessing to have fun, then they're alone. They whisk themselves to the snack bar; she watches Adora gorge on tiny food like she's taken Entrapta's appetite for herself. Smirking as she leans against the table she knows Adora can feel her gaze.

"Alright Princess charge your battery any more and I'll dance by myself."

"Noa faish wahit fo me!" Adora forced out through a mouthful.

"Hey easy there. What's that translate to?"

Adora swallows hard and snorts at her.

"I said no fair wait for me. Now you're getting payback."

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try."

Before she can register it a cupcake is smashed into her mouth. She can hear Adora laughing even when Catra serves one back in retaliation. By the time they've wasted three cupcakes they don't hear Scorpia saunter over. They nearly tumble face first into her serving tray.

"Whoa slow down guys! Party just started to get so worked up. You two sure love having fun."

"Sorry Scorpia didn't see you there. Catra wants to hurry and dance; I want to savor what Entrapta had prepared tonight."

Catra stuck out her tongue and laughed when Adora elbowed her side in jest. When they look over Scorpia has forgone food entirely. She stares at them, her eyes glistening from would be tears.

"You guys are just adorable did you know that?"

"You remind us all the time." Catra replied and wrapped an arm around Adora.

"Actually uh, on second thought, I've got icing down my dress. Excuse me ladies."

Adora gives her a peck of a kiss before disappearing. Catra watched her go spellbound by the soft lights cast on everyone. Adora's outline is dreamlike, Catra can hear her breath hitch. Then far too suddenly she's gone. It's funny, she no longer feels the pain that once tore through her fast as lightening. Maybe parting no longer means goodbye. She knows she always knew.

"Y'know Wildcat I gotta say I've never seen you look this happy. Well happier than that time in the Crimson Wastes. Oh or when Finn was born. It's nice."

"Heh. We're in the same boat then. I can't even tell when it started."

"Wanna know how I can tell this time?"

The intensity in Scorpia's tone made Catra straighten. She stopped trying to eat another cupcake and met her gaze.

"It's the eyes. They're so clear these days. They're empty, not in a bad way. Like...it's like you can take on anything. You've got resolve but it's not angry."

"Calm?"

"Yeah. Calm and whole. That's some strength even I don't think I have yet. Your eyes can see through anything."

"Geez way to praise a girl. I think I get it though. Adora's been saying something similar. Glimmer, Bow, Perfuma...everyone brings it up somehow. They act like I'm supposed to know just haven't told them." Catra smiles around a bite of her snack. It was achingly sweet yet she closed her eyes and tasted the love put in.

"Of course they see it too. Every truly strong person is kind."

Catra's eyes widen. For a moment she moves as if to speak then instead smiles, content. Her heart feels light as a feather.

She spots Adora returning through the crowd. Everyone parts reverently for the savior of the galaxy; to Catra it's another homecoming. They don't need the titles or praise; at last having each other, having themselves, is enough.

Scorpia takes her leave just as Adora emerges. The teasing look she wore before is replaced by excitement; the kind that simply is because it can be. Without prompting she offered Catra her hand. She's seen this scene countless times in as many settings. She takes it.

"Ready for that dance I owe you?"

It happens in an instant; Catra reads her eyes. They're calm, resolved, kind. Her reflection stares back within their clarity. She smiles. She hopes Finn will have those eyes someday.

"Always am."

#my writing #spop #catradora #glimbow #scorfuma #finn spop

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catfe-overlord · 4 years

Text

“Cold”

Part 2

Read part 1 here

::In which Bakugou and Kirishima are still trapped in a cave, slowly freezing to death, and luck doesn’t seem to be in their favor today as things only go downhill::

•••••••••••••••

It was probably the sound of teeth chattering that woke him. That didn’t make much sense because he was surprisingly warm in his sleeping bag.

Then it dawned on him. Kirishima.

Bakugou sat up, ignoring the pain that spiked through his back. The fire was nearly out, and Kirishima stood over it attempting to bring it back to life. Even in the dull light Bakugou could see how pale his boyfriend was.

“Dumbass!” Bakugou spat. “If you were this cold you should have told me!”

He looked over at Bakugou with sad puppy eyes. It made Bakugou seethe, disgusted by how fucking adorable it was. Kirishima had no business being that cute.

“You looked so peaceful,” Kirishima admitted. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You’re freezing, idiot. Take the stupid sleeping bag before I beat you to death.”

Bakugou wiggled out of the bag before Kirishima could protest. He kicked it over to the redhead, who only looked guilty accepting it. Nonetheless, he knew Bakugou enough to know he wasn’t joking around. Kirishima looked like a ghost, and that was putting it lightly. His skin was deathly white and his lips were a disturbing shade of purple. The dark, dried blood that trailed down the side of his face only helped to make him look paler. There was a slight tremble to his shoulders Bakugou couldn’t ignore.

“Sit down and get warm,” Bakugou demanded, forcing himself to stand without the use of his arms. “I’m going to get the fire going again.”

“Without using your quirk.”

“Tch. I will if I have to.”

“You’ll only hurt yourself—”

“I don’t give a damn!” Bakugou shouted through gritted teeth. “My arms aren’t as important as our lives.”

“I get that, Kats, but what about your quirk? If you hurt your arms bad enough that you can’t use your quirk again, your hero dream is over.”

Bakugou frowned. “I wouldn’t be much of a hero if I couldn’t even save the guy I loved.”

Kirishima opened his mouth to respond but clamped it shut again. A soft smile spread over his lips. “I love you too, Katsuki.”

He finally climbed into the sleeping bag and parked himself beside the dying fire. He melted into the fabric, and the teeth chattering slowly silenced. “Wow,” Kirishima breathed, “it’s still warm from you. I didn’t realize how cold I was.”

Bakugou knew Kirishima must have been freezing because without the insulated sleeping bag Bakugou could feel just how much the temperature dropped since the avalanche. “Ei, how long have we been in here?”

“Mm, maybe a couple hours? I’m not sure. The communicator still isn’t working, so I haven’t caught word from anyone yet.”

Bakugou huffed. He really hoped the class hadn’t assumed they were dead. After so long without answers, Bakugou wouldn't be surprised if any of them started to feel dread. He knew his classmates well enough to know they wouldn’t give up though.

With his left arm, which hurt a little less than his right, he scooped up Kirishima’s flashlight off the ground and clicked it on. He headed deeper into the cave in search of more sticks, hearing a faint, “Be careful!” from behind him, which he responded to with a grunt.

Fucking rocks everywhere. That’s all he could find! He was beginning to lose hope when he finally came across a branch long dead and speckled with crisp leaves.

He started kicking the thing back towards the fire, figuring he didn’t want to drag it back and hurt his arms more. The pain had lessened to a dull throbbing, but using his arms now would only bring it back tenfold.

He finally reached the fire and started stomping on the branch to break it up into smaller sticks. Once pleased with his work, he sat with his legs criss-crossed and used his left arm to toss branches into the flames one by one. The fire was already coming back to life.

“Good job, dude!” Kirishima congratulated him from where he was snuggled up in the sleeping bag. He scooted closer to Bakugou until their shoulders touched.

“Hungry?” Bakugou asked, leaning into Kirishima. He could feel the slightest warmth radiating from him.

“Honestly, yeah,” Kirishima answered. “I didn’t eat much today. A couple protein bars and an apple.”

Flatly, Bakugou said, “Eijirou.”

“I know, I know. ‘Take better care of yourself, blah, blah.’ I would’ve eaten better if I’d known we wouldn’t be back in time for dinner. Didn’t expect to wind up trapped in a cave when I ran out the door this morning.”

Bakugou scowled. It was because of him they were in this mess after all. If he’d just used his damn brain, Kirishima wouldn’t be freezing to death or starving or bleeding from the head!

Kirishima nudged him. “Hey. I didn’t mean it like that. This isn’t your fault, Blasty.”

Kirishima Eijirou and Bakugou Katsuki—

Both boys stiffened at the sudden voice echoing in their heads. It was a feminine voice, and strangely the woman was speaking directly into Bakugou’s brain, not his ears. He noted the voice sounded distantly familiar as it continued to coil through his mind.

This is Mandalay of the Wild, Wild Pussycats. If you can hear this message, just sit tight. We’re on our way. It may be awhile before we can reach you, so do your best to survive. Keep warm and stay alert. The mountain is more unstable than anyone realized. A second avalanche is likely, but we’ll try to have you both to safety before it comes to that. We’re doing everything we can. Mandalay, over and out.

Bakugou’s mouth felt suddenly dry. He remembered those damn Pussycat heroes from the training camp where the League managed to snag him. Mandalay was the most normal of the bunch of freaks, Pixie-Jo or whatever the fuck her name was had been a total creep, and he wasn’t around the other two weirdos enough to even remember their names.

“The tracker must be working,” Kirishima breathed, more likely thinking out loud than talking to Bakugou. He slumped against his boyfriend, letting his head rest against Bakugou’s shoulder. “They’re coming for us.”

Bakugou grunted his reply. He reached past Kirishima for the backpack, but a sharp pain shot from his wrist to his elbow. He drew back too fast, only managing to worsen the pain. He bit his lip to hold back a yelp.

“Babe! Hey, you alright?” Kirishima was asking then, whipping his arms out of the sleeping bag to cradle Bakugou as he held his arm tight against his chest. “No more using your arms. If you need something, just ask me next time.”

“‘Kay,” Bakugou spoke through clenched teeth. He would’ve argued if anyone else were here, but it was just Kirishima. He knew not to push it. He didn’t like making Kirishima mad.

The redhead pulled the bag to them and dug out the thermos. After he unscrewed the cap, a plume of steam rose from the mouth of the can. “Wow, still warm.”

“Good,” Bakugou breathed out through a sigh. “It’ll help warm up our cores. Help us stay alive.”

Kirishima nodded against him. He took a long sip from the thermos, then passed it to Bakugou. “Cheers.”

Bakugou chuckled at that, but the sound was strained. He accepted the soup, downing a few gulps himself.

There was a strange rumble then. Bakugou stiffened at the sound of shifting rocks. Kirishima‘s grip on him tightened.

There were a few short moments of near perfect silence, despite the crackling of the fire. Bakugou swallowed, bringing himself to stand up. He had a bad feeling rising in his chest.

“Do you think that’s them? The Pros?” Kirishima asked quietly. “Our classmates?”

Bakugou pursed his lips. “I don’t think so, Ei.”

Then it happened all at once, so fast Bakugou could hardly process what was happening. He would’ve been killed if it wasn’t for Kirishima’s instantaneous reaction.

The rumbling was loud, so loud, and the ground was shaking and the ceiling was practically coming down. Bakugou stumbled and tripped over the backpack, throwing his hands out to protect himself.

He screamed at the pure agony that shot through his arms, the sound ripping through his throat. All he could think about was pain, pain, pain.

Kirishima dove on top of him, his body hardened from head to toe. He braced himself on his hands and knees, taking each blow from the ceiling as it crumbled.

The light of the fire disappeared, and the boys were consumed in darkness. The cave went silent and still, as well as Bakugou’s mind.

++++++++++++++

Read part 3 here

IM SORRY... for how long it took me to post this. Not for tormenting our two best boys of course 👀

Yeah, I had a lot of problems with the program I was using to write this (kept telling me there was a merge error ?? And deleting random bits of my work ?????) so I’ve switched over to Google Docs and so far that’s working well for me. It’ll take some getting used to, but worth the change so long as it doesn’t randomly delete my writing 😤 (yes I’m a little salty about it)

ANYWAY ! Thanks for the read, and I’ll have the final part posted soon! I started another fic that I think y’all might like,,,,, maybe,,,, hopefully ?? Yep yep KiriBaku of course.

9/14/2020

#bnha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boyfriends #whump #fluff #kiribaku #bakushima #fanfic #trapped #avalanche #broken bones #concussions #established relationship

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jcisthebestfightme · 4 years

Text

BJYX Song #14: The Things You Don’t Know

BJYX Song List

Disclaimer: Fake story brewed in fake tea house.

Can finally write a long post again after I got a new keyboard! This is a song I struggled with whether to write about. So on 8/4/20, the day before dd’s birthday, on QQ music, under gg’s name, a song was posted as #95 on the list (see this post for significance of 95, although it’s unclear if gg will know the significance of 95). The song was a clip from a vlog he did in his X-Nine days on 4/24/16. The full length of the vlog is 4:38 but the QQ version only has the song itself. The QQ version was cut to be exactly 1:28 (for us delulu kadian fans, that’s 1=want 2= love 8=bo). If you listen to this trimmed version (will post Youtube at the bottom), there is at least 1 second after the song has already ended where there is a silence and then a laugh. This make me think that it is possible the song length may be significant because it would’ve made more sentence to trim the song to 1:26 or even 1:27 cuz it’s weird to leave a bit of a laugh. But coincidence, of course!

What was controversial about the song is that it was deleted after being posted for a few hours. Some fans were worried that it may not have been posted by gg himself and that someone else posted it to try to link gg to dd for dd’s birthday (possibly with malicious intent.) Indeed, this version of the song was copied and reposted by third party (fans probably) onto Youku. However, 1 very dedicated bxg messaged QQ music’s customer service directly and asked if a song by an artist would show up under their name if they sang it but was uploaded by a third party and QQ claimed that no, only song uploaded by the artist directly will be under that artist’s name. This post with the conversation with customer service has since been deleted (there was a lot of silencing people around dd’s birthday because people worried about attracting too much attention) but I promise I’ve seen it and the girl seem really genuine in her inquiry. So I personally do believe that either gg or his team uploaded this song and that it wasn’t a third party. Because of the silencing around this post though, I was worried about writing about it but then I thought, well the original clip from 2016 is definitely something gg wanted to share publicly so it’s definitely a song he want to share with us.

Some people said that gg deleted the song in a few hours because he didn’t upload it. But alternatively, I think he may have wanted to share this song with us to tell the world he wanted to wish dd “happy birthday” but can’t due to circumstances. It must be very painful not to be able to even publicly say happy birthday to the person you love most, especially with all the negative rumor being spread about them being enemies. So this was his only way of somehow conveying that he wish dd well on his birthday. And him deleting the post before 8/5 was also something I think is very in character of him. If he had left it on dd’s birthday, people beyond fans (gossip sites, news, etc.) might pick it up and associate it with dd’s birthday and say that “gg is trying to use dd’s birthday to draw attention to himself blah blah blah.” This is also what makes me believe that maybe gg was the one who post it and not a third party with malicious intent because a third party will probably just post directly on 8/5.

On to the background of the song, the song is “The Things You Don’t Know (你不知道的事)” by Leehom Wang. Dd has mentioned more than once that he likes to listen to Leehom when he was a kid and that he really like this artist. The title is also interesting. It’s almost like gg telling us “I may not be able to wish dd a happy birthday publicly but there are many things you guys don’t know.” This song actually came from a movie Love in Disguise where Leehom plays a guy that is a famous celebrity and the female lead is a student of a music academy. The guy had a secret crush on the girl and this song is to describe his longing for her. (I didn’t actually watch this movie so correct me if I’m wrong.)

This is the version exactly that was posted on QQ music: (Someone took it and posted it on Youtube)

youtube

The lyrics may sound originally like a breakup song but here’s why I don’t think ggdd broke up around his birthday and this is why gg posted this song:

1) That idea is ridiculous if you look at how happy dd is and plus all the commotion around his new necklace.

2) gg sang this song in 2016 when he didn’t know dd so it’s not like this song was dedicated to him 100%

3) the context of the song is from a very cute and sweet romantic movie

4) dd said before he liked bitter love songs and I think both ggdd kinda like not super cheerful love songs because honestly, some of these bitter ones have more depth to them and also it makes their relationship seem more realistic and grounded

So please don’t get upset if it sounds like a breakup song.

蝴蝶擦几次眼睛 (How many times does the butterfly blink its eyes)

才学会飞行 (Before it learn to fly)

This part is talking about having many failures before you can succeed. In a relationship, this is probably like having other past relationships but when you meet the right person, everything is completely different. In the context of ggdd, they both have past relationship but what I see in them is almost like a “first love” in a sense that it’s the first time they’ve ever love anyone that way.

夜空洒满了星星 (The night sky is full of stars)

但几颗会落地 (But a couple will fall to the ground)

我飞行但你坠落之际 (I’m soaring but you’re falling)

想靠近还听见呼吸 (Want to be close, can even hear your breathing)

对不起我却没捉紧你 (I’m sorry, I didn’t catch you)

The “star” motif resurfaces! It’s even more significant now with the star on the new necklace. This part of the song is probably describing the famous star in the movie who is soaring high in fame but can’t help the female student. For ggdd in the current situation, it’s not really the case that gg is famous and dd is a non-celebrity. Instead, I just think it’s trying to convey the pain of I want to protect you but I don’t think I have the ability right now to do it well.

你不知道我为什么离开你 (You don’t know why I left you)

我坚持不能说放任你哭泣 (I insist on not leaving you to cry)

你的泪滴像倾盆大雨 (Your tears are like pouring rain)

碎落满地在心里清晰 (Shattered all over the flow, clear in my heart)

Like I mentioned, I don’t think gg is talking about actually leaving dd. I think this can relate to not being able to wish him “happy birthday” in public. He may feel guilt and sadness from it because he knows how much dd would love to beam to the public about their relationship. So this may convey feeling like he have to let dd down this time because he had no choice. This part of the song also alludes to the fact that while the singer can’t do everything for the other person, he still loves this person very deeply and it pains him to see them upset.

你不知道我为什么狠下心 (You don’t know why I cruelly made this decision)

盘旋在你看不见那高空里 (Hovering over you in a far away sky)

多的是你不知道的事 (There’s more, the things you don’t know)

This part talks about the singer deciding to just watch over the person he loves from far away in order to protect them. And that they want to tell them that in his hear, he loves them very very much and there’s a lot of things, thing beyond words that he cannot convey. I think this part really fits gg’d personality. First, for the birthday, gg had to stay far away and watch dd be showered by all his friends. Second, I think that gg’s love is really the type to be full of care, so much that it can’t even be contained and it’s in so many small detailed that you can’t explain it. He’s just there, protecting him.

Conveying love and feelings is definitely something I think gg does. We’ve seen him change lyrics, kadian post time with the times in a song (which he did for dd’s birthday in 2019, see my post on Nan Hai for more), and talk about his feelings when choosing songs so I don’t think it’s a super stretch to say this may be gg’s way of wishing dd a happy 23rd birthday. This is my personal bias but conveying feelings through song lyrics is something I do a lot so I can totally empathize and visually gg doing this. I’m the type that will post bits of song title publicly to convey my feelings to someone, hoping that person will get it. I’m the type when messaging that person give them a line or two from the song and hope they pick up the hidden meaning. Why do I do this? Because I can really relate to that line of the song and I want to share it. Also, I want to be semi-mysterious and have you decipher why I think this part of the song reminds me of you.

So while this is all just my own interpretation and analysis, giving dd a song by one of his favorite artist with the kadian 1:28 for his birthday isn’t completely impossible.

#bjyx #yizhan

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thirstofgames · 3 years

Text

kitty and the jailbird

#️⃣2️⃣

-IT'S A MATCH-

A blank chat popped open and Damien stared at it for a second. He had honestly not expected it. The girl actually swiped him right. He looked at the clock impatiently; he did not have much time left in the library. There was a loud shout from the hallway, his muscles tensing, ready to hide the phone and bolt at any second.

He regretted that last question right as he pushed send. It sounded so bitter in his head now. It was a dating app after all and she was a good looking young woman.

you there?

...

hello?

busy flirting with your other matches, huh?

And there it was all about to end, the hot topic of his whereabouts. And the swift and cruel rejection that followed. It had already happened one too many times! Could he go through his again? Was it worth it? His palms were sweaty, but he never felt so cold. If the ground could just open up and swallow him whole before she finished asking...

No, sorry

Just a little surprised we matched

you can unmatch if you want

Well, what I want is to talk with you 😊

Your profile caught my eye

what part?

Your profile pic at first.

Most guys can't pull off the broken, deep and scowling thing

But... looks good on you.

you don't look so bad yourself-

but then I read your description...

and I have to know something

shoot 🙄

It was a simple Yes/No question, but it took Kate way to long to answer. She bit her lip, thinking hard on the possibilities. It was such an unfair question though. She was not going to leave, but was not going to pursue anything with him until she knew what he was in for and how long he was going to be locked up. She'd wasted enough years waiting up on others...

I'm just a little confused 🤔

Are you really in jail?

you gonna leave if I say yes?

It really depends...

A bittersweet smile spread on his lips. What was he expecting from a girl like her? She probably had a nice job, a supporting family and tons of friends and... an actual future. Why would she even consider wasting her time with him? The little time he had left... Better to just pull off the band aid!

She felt to bad! She hadn't meant to disregard his feelings, but wasn't it fair to let her know what she was getting into? She didn't even know what he was expecting from the conversation they were having... She was curious, but she didn’t want to lead him on.

okay, let's just say...

the orange pants and barbed wire are real

OMG

I have so mane questions 😱

here we go...

What did you do?

Wait, where do you even hide your phone?

STOP!

enough with the interrogation, alright?

I'm just curious...

sure, but i'm more than just a prisoner

a little respect goes a long way

Kate’s heart sank. He was hot, but the prison was a serious issue... She supposed people were not lining up to get to know him. He seemed pretty well rounded and mannered, but he was very defensive about his crime. Did that mean it was something really bad? But he was on a dating app... so maybe he was getting out soon?

You're right!

I'm so sorry 😓

Let's change the subject

Why don't you tell me what you're looking for

hmmm

What?

i'm thinking...

nobody's really asked me that before

Seriously?

most people stop talking to me when they find out i'm locked up

i don't really blame them. i'm rough around the edges.

She didn't say anything for a while and Damien started wondering if he should just close the damn phone and leave. He should also probably take a break from Lovelink after this... it clearly wasn't doing him any good. Dark thoughts swarmed his mind and he had to close his eyes and head his head back against the bookshelf to get rid of the harrowing feeling. Like he was falling in an endless pit...

The screen showed him typing and deleting several responses. Kate pursed her lips, impatient. Had she said anything wrong? She’d never spoken to someone who’d been locked up, she was still unsure what could trigger painful memories, or just remind him that he was... not free. But he said he just wanted to chat and his profile mentioned 'deep conversations'...

Okay, I'm not running away, for now

but...

But I can't really make up my mind

If I don't know anything about you

So...

alright

honestly I'm just looking to talk to someone from the outside

it can get pretty boring in here, just waiting around the clock

Let's be friends then 😊

I'll be your window to the outside world

If that's alright with you...?

Damien sighed on the other end. Beggars can’t be choosers. It was a step in the right direction though. Maybe he was not going to find the love of his life at the very fucking end of said life. He was not living in some fairytale! He was still going to die, alone and forgotten.

But maybe... just a little less alone at the very end of his road. One friend meant more than none and maybe, just maybe... he could tell her his side of the story. Eventually. She seemed patient and understanding enough. Let at least one person out there know he did not murder his own father.

sure

that's more than most

Of course a pretty thing like her got a lot on attention... She was only chatting up with him because the others were offline-

but it must have been pretty bad to be such a long sentence

you still can't tell me what the crime was?

look, i've been making my own rules my whole life

you better ask what crimes I DIDN'T do

wow...

i'm no bragging or anything, just letting you know where I'm at

anyways, I'm more interested in what you're all about

what are you doing on an app like this?

Honestly...

I was about to uninstall it right before we matched 😅

you already found the one?

or no luck at all?

Well, I went on a few nice dates...

i see

Suddenly his experience on the app seemed less awful. Maybe it was not the right place. Or perhaps it was just the place for a misfit like him, here with all the weirdoes and con artists.

And then they ditched me for their exes

Just my luck 😂

Oh and I swear to god if I see one more vampire 🙄 🙄 🙄 🙄 🙄

vampires?

Yeees

You wouldn't believe some of the things I saw...

OMG, one dude was actually dresses up as a centaur

I...

don't even want to ask

There's also the 'prince' scam going around

Dudes claiming to be the heirs of some

Made up countries and asking you for money

It wasn't quite a rejection, but it still hurt a little. She already mentioned twice she was only interested in him as friends. She didn't need to spell it out every few minutes! But she was the only one...

Met some nice people too ☺️

Actually became good friends with some

Which is nice since I just moved here

were did you come from?

Pallay 💜

you're a long way from home

I know 😢

I suppose it was getting kinda lonely

My friends and family come visit when they can

But that's not a lot...

what brought you here?

Got a really good job opportunity

But I didn't quite realize how far away I'd be

So yeah, to answer your question from before...

I'm kinda just chatting with new people

Made more friends than anything else lol

Hope that's aright with you 🤗

A smile crept on his lips. An actual, genuine smile. How long had it been since he had any reason to? God, it felt good to talk to someone! Someone who didn't know him, who didn't shout 'walking corpse' after him, didn't judge him. He almost felt like his old self. Almost.

i'm cool with that

Great!

Looking forward to getting to know you, Damien 😄

so let's get to it

tell me about yourself

hobbies, favorite food, anything

my hobbies are always changing 🤔

I start something new every month or so

Oh, and I started volunteering at a vet lately

🐱🐶💕

With a friend I made on this app

it suits you

Hmmmmm how would you know?

We've only just met

just a hunch

I could secretly be evil 😈

you couldn't hurt a fly

besides, I've seen evil and believe me

you're not it

I'm guessing you're not going to elaborate on that

Are you?

see, you know me so well already

Smartass 😝

At lest until she finds out.

And I love food 🤤

Who doesn't? lol

But picking a favorite is like... impossible

I do have one hell of a sweet tooth 🍫🍬🍦

I'm soooo jealous

I miss making my own meals

That's right! You probably just have a cafeteria.

I'm so sorry 😓

it's cool

i'm glad we have something in common

Is there any food you miss?

Wait... was there even steak in that picture? Kate felt her ears burning, the fluffy pajamas studently itching at her skin.

just makin my own in general, being in charge in the kitchen

Damien scrolled quickly through his phone, the memories leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He nearly didn’t send the photo. It felt like so long ago, a different time...a different person. But it felt so good to remember! To be reminded of the more happier moments when he had all his life ahead of him! And showing her a piece of his past may make her curious enough to stick around for a while longer.

He hit Send.

-Tap to download photo-

Looks... delicious

you like steak?

Oh yeah, the food 😳

Wish I could have a bite of that hahaha

So not so shy and innocent as she claimed. Good to know. Even if it didn’t lead anywhere, which he had to be realistic about - he was on death row after all - it was still fun. The most fun he’d had in a long while. It felt...nice.

HA!

i wish you could too 😏

The door of the library swung open hitting the opposite wall. The guard in charge could be heard arguing with someone. At least four voices. He had to move fast.

I'm really hungry now 😅

good

Kate stared at the screen, the little green light besides his profile picture going grey. She scrolled through the conversation as if to make sure she hadn’t just imagined it. She tapped the picture he’d sent, a small smile creeping on her lips. He looked so... normal. Well, more like smoking hot, but she expected some kind of dump, or some greasy repair shop, not Greek sculpture level abs. The boy should come with a warning! She was a sucker for bad boys, but had she gotten so bad that she was now considering a fucking convict? What if he was a murderer or something??

shit!

???

someone's coming

gotta hide my phone

talk soon

Be careful! 🙏🏻

Her ice cream, forgotten on the coffee table, had turned to soup.

What had she gotten herself into?

#lovelink #damien jones #kitty and the jailbird #austin russo #counterpart

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dettiot · 4 years

Text

beauty and the beast

Surprise, surprise, this got away from me! So enjoy a very long twist on your typical Beauty and the Beast AU. Because the formatting got all wonky and I couldn’t put in a cut, I deleted the original ask from the anon and just posted this separately.

Humming softly to himself, Anakin looked over the pieces of wire and scraps of metal in the old mechanic shop. He was looking for something very special–something that would make the automaton he was creating just right–

“This is it!” he cried, plucking a quarter-meter circle of shiny gold metal from underneath a pile of rusted bolts.

The mechanic, a kindly old man, smiled a little. “Yes? Just what you need?”

Anakin nodded happily. “It will be perfect for the face of my … clock.” Because in his small village, his interest in mechanical men would not go over well with the people. So he told everyone he was building a new kind of clock.

“If it’s perfect, you should take it,” the mechanic said with a smile. He held up a hand to hold back Anakin’s protests. “I’ll never find a use for that, and you have a need for it. So you should take it.”

“Thank you!” Anakin said eagerly, tucking the metal under his arm and practically stumbling over his feet in his eagerness to get home. “Thank you so much!”

As he hurried home, thinking about his mother’s reaction to his automaton, Anakin did his best to block out the voices of the villagers. How they talked about how beautiful he was, how he was sure to marry the lord’s daughter, how odd he was. It bothered him to hear people talk like that about him, but … people would always talk, his mother told him.

Pushing open the door of the small building that was their home, his mother’s shop and his workshop, Anakin called out, “Mom? I’m home!”

Only silence greeted him, making Anakin frown. He looked around, stepping into Shmi’s shop, only to remember that she had told him about making a trip to the nearby town for some supplies.

With that question settled, Anakin got down to work on his automaton.

XXX

With a start, Anakin realized it was too dark to see. He sat up straight, stretching his back, and reached out to light a candle stub in an iron candlestick on his worktable.

His automaton was practically done. He couldn’t wait to show his–

“Mom?” he said aloud, suddenly realizing how late it was. She should have been home hours ago.

And he had a bad feeling about this.

Pulling on his cloak, Anakin dashed out into the night. A quick stop at the table to get their cantankerous horse, and Anakin set off on the path his mother always took to town.

Between the clouds and the trees, Anakin couldn’t see the moon. A stiff breeze was starting to blow, heavy with the scent of rain. He nudged his horse along. “Come on, Artoo, keep going. We’ve got to find Mom.”

It had started to rain when Anakin spied the rusty gates that marked the abandoned castle. It had once been the home of the village’s original lord, before the family line had died out. For as long as he could remember, the gates had been shut, overgrown with vines.

But now … the gate was ajar.

Perhaps his mother had taken shelter here? Although he couldn’t think why she would do something like that. She had always warned him to stay away from the castle. Like she was scared of it. But if something was wrong, his mother was practical enough to set aside her misgivings.

Besides, what choice did he have?

Anakin dismounted and pushed open the gate. He took the reins in one hand and led Artoo into the overgrown courtyard. The castle in front of him was probably beautiful once upon a time. Now, the stones were mostly gray, with splotches of white and yellow to show its original colors. Stones were missing from the facade and the windows were shuttered, while vines were draped over the whole castle.

Artoo snorted and stomped a foot, and Anakin stroked his mane. “I know, boy. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Stepping up to the large doors, Anakin pushed them open and stepped inside. He coughed, the dust tickling his nose and throat. There was no light inside, so he could barely see the dim shapes around him. But he kept moving, because something inside him told him his mother was here.

“Mom? Are you here? It’s Anakin …” he called out, hearing his voice echo.

“Ani?”

“Mom!” he yelled, moving towards her voice. He ran down a flight of stone steps, into a cellar that was lined with … cells?

At the end of the room, a small light barely managed to push back the darkness enough for him to see his mother.

“Mom!” he said again, dashing to her and kneeling in front of her. “What happened to you? I’ve got to get you out of here!”

His mother’s warm, gentle brown eyes widened in fear. “No, Ani, no! You must go!”

He stared at her. “I’m not leaving you here!”

“GET OUT!”

Jerking to his feet, Anakin put himself between his mother and the voice, which was coming from … a woman?

Her hair was dark, swirling around her white face. Her body was thin and spindly and small, swallowed up by the large cape that seemed to float around her. But most chilling of all was the effect of her large, black eyes in her white face.

“You are intruding! Get out!” she bellowed, her voice loud and echoing.

“Ani, please,” his mother said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

“No! What right do you have to lock up a poor woman in your dungeon?” Anakin asked.

The woman’s face twisted into something remote and powerful. “She stole. For that, she deserves imprisonment.”

“I picked a rose for myself,” Shmi said. “I’m sorry! It was just so beautiful!”

Anakin didn’t know how anything could grow on this estate, but he knew his mother. She was the kindest, warmest, best woman on earth. She didn’t deserve this. And he wouldn’t let her suffer.

“Take me instead,” Anakin said, stepping forward and ignoring his mother’s gasp.

The woman looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Agreed.” She stepped forward, a cold feeling coming off her as she moved around Anakin to unlock the cell holding his mother.

“Ani, no–no–” his mother begged. He had enough time to reach out and take her hand, squeezing it, telling her silently how much he loved her.

The woman dragged his mother away, Anakin staring at Shmi’s face until it was gone.

“Hello.”

Anakin nearly jumped six feet in the air before turning around towards the sound of the voice.

Which was … a candleabra?

That was smiling at him?

“Please excuse the mistress. We … we don’t receive many guests,” the candleabra said. “But come, come! Allow me to show you to your room!”

A throat cleared, only for a mantle clock to hop into view. “Excuse me, that is my job, if you don’t mind, Lumiere.”

“Ah, yes, mon ami, of course!” the candleabra said cheerfully.

The clock bowed, which made Anakin want to pick it up and examine it. To figure out how it was possible for clocks and candleabras to talk and move!

“Good evening, sir, I am the butler of the household. You may call me Cogsworth. And you are … ?”

“Anakin,” he replied, at a loss for words.

“Excellent! Charming name, sir, if you don’t mind me saying. Come, follow me,” Cogsworth said, hopping along towards the stairs.

Lumiere did the same, the metallic clangs ringing through the chamber every time he made contact with the stone floor. Shrugging his shoulders, Anakin followed them, wondering just what was happening to him.

XXX

After two days in the castle, Anakin thought he might go crazy with boredom. Or curiosity.

He was well-fed at every meal, waited on by Lumiere, Cogsworth, and the teapot named Mrs. Potts who reminded him a bit of his mom. He was provided with old-fashioned but very fine clothes–clothes he constantly worried about messing up. But otherwise, he was left alone. He hadn’t seen the woman who lived here in the castle. All he heard was her roars.

What had happened to her? She might be small, but something about her made her seem so much larger and more commanding than her size. And there was something about her that seemed to be in such pain …

Without anything to do, Anakin found himself wandering through the castle, exploring. Taking in the broken furniture and destroyed paintings. The library with books spread across every surface, piles of wax showing where candles had burned down to the end of their wicks.

The west wing was off-limits, Cogsworth told him. But Anakin wasn’t about to let a whole wing of the castle remain unexplored.

And when he drew near a room and heard voices, he wasn’t above doing some eavesdropping.

“Mistress, please,” Cogsworth said. Anakin could practically picture the clock putting its hands together in a begging position. “You must try.”

“What’s the use?” she asked, her voice managing to echo in yet another piece of magic in this castle.

“Padme, you can’t give up like this,” Lumiere said.

Padme? Was that her name? Anakin had never met anyone with a name like that. It was … interesting. Unusual.

“I will not manipulate him. I will not make promises I cannot keep,” Padme said, sounding aloof and regal but very sad.

“It’s not manipulation,” Lumiere said. “You’re simply getting to know Anakin. He’s a very kind, caring young man. It would do you good to talk with someone, my lady. To not be so concerned with the whole world.”

“Please, Mistress, for us,” Cogsworth said. “There’s so little time left … what is the harm in trying?”

Padme heaved a sigh. “I suppose I have no choice, then?”

“Don’t sound so sad, my lady!” Lumiere said. “He’s also a romantic. He gave himself up to save his mother … he looks quite stunning in his new clothes …”

Anakin felt his cheeks flush. As his mother always said, eavesdroppers deserved what they heard. He drew away, feeling his curiosity stir as he wondered at the conversation.

What had Lumiere meant, there was so little time left?

XXX

To Anakin’s surprise, Padme entered the dining room just as he was sitting down to the table. She wore black, her hair loose around her shoulders and her eyes still dark. But even though she held her chin up, he thought she sounded nervous when she said, “May I join you?”

“Of course …” Anakin said, suddenly realizing he should have stood up when she entered the room. He stumbled over his feet as he got up. To cover his embarrassment, he said, “It’s your castle, after all.”

Without a word, she took a chair at the end of the table. Anakin sat back down, shifting a little.

“I … I hope you have been comfortable,” Padme said after a few minutes of silence.

“Um, yes,” Anakin said, poking at his plate of food. “Thank you.”

He started to eat, glancing at her as she sipped from a glass. Other than a few bites of bread, she didn’t appear to eat anything.

And he wondered what had happened to her.

“I suppose the servants have told you about me,” Padme said.

Shaking his head, he did his best to smile. “No, not really. I’ve asked a lot of questions, but they haven’t answered them.”

A smile appeared on her face as fast as quicksilver before it was gone. “My name is Padme.”

He nodded and smiled. “I’m Anakin. In case you didn’t know.”

That smile appeared again, lasting a little longer, and Anakin felt his heart give a queer thump. “Yes, I know,” Padme said.

For a few moments, they sat in silence as Anakin ate and Padme sipped from her glass.

“My … my mother told me once that the lords of the village used to live here,” Anakin said, his words a bit halting. “In the old days. Before the current lord’s family took over.”

Something shifted in her dark eyes, creating an expression of regret. “Are they … are they kind to the people?”

Anakin shrugged. “They’re all right, I guess. When there was a drought two years ago, they didn’t kick out any villagers. Their daughter gives a lot of charity to anyone who needs it.”

“It’s so little,” Padme said, looking off into the distance.

“What more would they want to do?”

“Help the people lift themselves up, improving their lives at all times, instead of just helping them in hard times,” Padme said, a spark of passion lighting her up.

He opened his mouth to argue, only to stop and consider her words. “Huh.”

“What?” she said, her voice sounding cold.

“No–it’s a good idea. I never thought about it. That lords could be different,” Anakin said.

“They can be,” Padme said, thawing a little. “Those who think long-range, instead of just squeezing the people for all they can get out of them.”

Raising his eyebrows, Anakin looked at her. “Who are you?”

There was something about Padme … he didn’t understand her, how she could roar and bellow, while also speaking so strongly about people. It didn’t fit.

She rose to her feet. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal.”

And before Anakin could say anything more, Padme swept out of the room.

For a long moment, he stared after her, wondering what had made her leave. Hoping he hadn’t offended her. It was strange, how much he was starting to care. The last thing he should do is care about his captor. But … he did.

Even though he missed his mother. Even though he didn’t know how long he would be staying here. He wanted to help Padme.

XXX

Almost without him realizing it, the days began adding up into weeks, time moving faster and becoming more pleasant. Because Padme began spending more time with him, filling up his hours with interesting conversations and unusual feelings.

He knew she was smart and liked to read. But as they talked, he realized just how brilliant she was. She had something to say about anything, but especially what it meant to be a good ruler, to lead people, to protect and provide for large groups.

Padme wasn’t afraid to challenge him. To make him think. So many people in his village seemed to think he was dumb, just because he was handsome. But Padme … she wanted him to be informed, to talk about so many things he had never really considered.

So he found himself opening up to her. Talking about his mother. About how he felt out of place in his village and wondered where he might fit in. He even told her about the automaton he was building, and how he loved to tinker and fix things.

And the day after he told her that, Padme was different. She was almost … giddy. Because after lunch, she asked him to follow her. And of course, Anakin did. Right outside the castle, through the overgrown gardens.

A cold wind whipped around him, making Anakin draw his cloak tighter around himself.

“Are you cold?” Padme asked, seeming not to notice how her own cloak was blown open by the wind and her hair swirled around her.

“A little … I’m always cold,” he admitted.

Padme nodded, and he almost sensed her filing away that piece of information. He didn’t really know why, and he didn’t have much time to think about it, because Padme drew up in front of a dilapidated building. It was tall, with large windows flanking its door, and Anakin wondered what the structure was for.

From underneath her cloak, Padme drew a rusty key and put it in the door’s lock. She turned it, but didn’t open the door. Instead, she turned to face him. “I thought you might like to see this building.”

“All right …” Anakin said slowly, not really sure where this was going.

She gestured for him to open the door, and knowing that it would probably be at least a bit warmer inside–it would give them cover from the wind–Anakin turned the knob and stepped inside, feeling his mouth drop in shock.

It … it was like the mechanic’s shop in his village, but much, much larger. As far as the eye could see, there were tools and supplies. Pieces of metal in all sizes, wires and springs and gears, long worktables stretching along the walls and open space for experiments.

“What–what?” Anakin asked, his head swiveling around before he turned to face Padme.

“When you talked about the machine you were building … I remembered this workshop and thought you might like to use it. To let you work on projects while you’re here,” Padme said, her voice soft and almost shy.

“Really?” he asked, beaming at her. “Padme, this is amazing!”

For the first time, he saw color on her face, as two soft pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “You like it?”

“I love it. I can’t wait to get started!” Anakin said, unable to hold back his excitement. He looked at Padme, and then, suddenly, he was hugging her.

He hadn’t realized how much bigger he was than her. Because in his arms, she felt so incredibly small and delicate and fragile. He wondered if he was hurting her, because she was standing so straight and stiff. But then, her body melted against his, in a way that made his blood light on fire.

Her hair was against his cheek, and Anakin turned his head just the slightest bit, to realize it wasn’t black like he thought. No, it was a deep, rich, warm brown. It smelled like something warm and spicy and comforting. Like cinnamon.

What was he doing?

Anakin jerked back, knowing his own face was flushed. He didn’t know what to do with his hands and ended up shoving them into his pockets. “Um, thank you,” he said, hearing his mother’s voice in his head, reminding him of his manners.

“You’re welcome,” Padme said, her voice higher-pitched than normal. Her face was still flushed. She drew her cloak around her. “I … I’ll let you begin to work. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself.”

And with her cloak and hair whirling around her, Padme left.

Even though he was itching to get started, Anakin couldn’t help watching through the window as Padme walked back to the castle. Her spine was straight, her head held high, but … but Anakin thought she seemed sad. Sadder than he had ever seen her before.

XXX

As the days went on, Padme’s sadness seemed to linger. She tried to act like she wasn’t sad, by smiling at him some and asking him questions and listening when he talked. But Anakin could tell that there was something wrong.

No matter what he tried, it didn’t seem to help her. He asked her questions about leadership and ruling, doing his best to draw out all her knowledge. He offered to go walking with her around the castle’s grounds, despite the cold.

And then Anakin had an idea. The perfect way to make Padme smile enough to make her sadness go away.

He got to work in his shop, glorying in all the supplies he could ever need. It meant missing a few meals with Padme and a few sleepless nights, but it was worth it, after four days, to have created the perfect present.

At dinner that night, he hurried into the dining room, checking his pocket for his surprise. Padme looked at him and smiled for a moment, before her face settled back into sadness.

“Padme?” he asked, unable to wait. Wanting that unhappy expression banished from her face.

“Yes?” she asked quietly, only glancing at him.

“I have something for you,” he said, stepping towards her.

That prompted a reaction. She slowly looked up at him, something in her eyes that almost made him hesitate. But he plowed ahead.

“Here,” he said quickly, drawing his present out of his pocket and setting it down in front of her.

Padme stared at the mechanical rose in front of her. Her hand lifted and reached out, but didn’t touch it.

“It’s a mechancial rose,” Anakin explained, his words coming fast. “It’s in its bud state right now, but if you press this button right here …”

Anakin pressed a small button at the base of the flower, and Padme gasped as the rose’s petals slowly unfurled into a full-blown bloom.

“So you can always have a rose, no matter what time of year it is,” Anakin said, watching Padme. Seeing her soft, pale skin–not white and cold like it had looked the first time he saw her. Her brown, curly hair, not the wild dark mass he remembered.

And her eyes–not dark holes in her face–but brown and full of emotion and warmth and fire.

How had he not realized how beautiful she was?

“Anakin,” Padme said. Her voice shook as one fingertip brushed against a petal.

“Eventually, I want to add fragrance as the flower blooms,” Anakin said, his palms feeling clammy and his throat as dry as a desert. “And a timer, so the rose will bloom slowly, like a real flower. Do–do you like it?”

It felt like it took a decade for her eyes to slowly meet his. She stared at him, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips, making Anakin lean towards her.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

The castle was full of magic. Anakin had accepted that, even though he couldn’t scientifically explain it. And right now, it was like all the magic was increased, making this moment last and matter.

And then, with a sharp, dissonant screech, Padme pushed her chair back and stood up. “I release you.”

Anakin stared as Padme turned and walked towards one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. “What?”

Had he heard her say she released him? What did that mean?

Without facing him, Padme said, “You are free. There is no longer any debt to repay. Your horse is in the stable–you may leave whenever you like.”

His heart plummeted. He didn’t–he couldn’t–why was she–how could he–

“Please go,” Padme whispered, her arms wrapping around her torso.

Mrs. Potts appeared in the room, gently nudging against Anakin’s ankle. “It’s getting late. You need your rest, young man.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but the pleading look Mrs. Potts gave him made his shoulders slump. He nodded and turned, walking out of the dining hall. And as he left, he couldn’t help looking back at Padme, who was now surrounded by her servants. Their faces were worried for their mistress.

They weren’t the only one who was worried.

XXX

The next day passed like a dream. When he woke up, after a night of little sleep, the hatstand helped him dress like normal. But it wasn’t a normal day.

Cogsworth greeted him in the front hall. “Good morning, sir,” he said, his voice mournful. “Your horse is saddled and waiting for you. There is a saddlebag with food and drink packed for your journey.”

“Cogsworth–I don’t need that. I don’t need to go,” he said. “I …”

The words died as he realized he didn’t want to talk to Cogsworth. He wanted to talk to Padme.

Lumiere hopped to stand beside Cogsworth. “Farewell, mon petit,” he said, smiling sadly at Anakin. “Bonne chance.”

“Hurry along now,” Mrs. Potts said. “Your mother must be waiting for you.”

There was nothing he could say. They wouldn’t let him see Padme. And they were all just household items, but he wouldn’t want to cross them. So Anakin slowly turned and walked out of the castle.

The skies were filled with gray clouds and he shivered in the cold air. Artoo tossed his head and whinnied as Anakin approached.

“Hi, boy,” he said softly, stroking Artoo’s nose before mounting him. Anakin looked up at the castle, searching each and every window for any sign of Padme. But the windows were empty, just like his heart, and he took the reins and gently urged Artoo into a walk.

He did not look back. He kept his gaze locked on the space between Artoo’s ears, not paying any attention to his surroundings. Fortunately, Artoo knew the way.

When he drew up in front of the small house, he gave his head a shake and tried to look on the bright side. He was home. He could see his mother again. He could …

“Ani!”

His mother’s voice had never sounded sweeter. Anakin smiled through some tears as he watched her run out of the house and into his arms.

“Oh, Ani!” she said. Anakin hugged her back tightly.

She pulled away and cupped his face, her fingers stroking against his skin. “How did you get away? Are you all right?”

“I … she let me go,” Anakin said softly, leaning into her touch.

“She let you go?” Shmi said, sounding shocked. “What?”

He shook his head and stepped back. “I don’t know why. But she did and now I’m home.” He did his best to smile, and his mother smiled back, but she still looked confused.

“Let me put Artoo in the stable and you can catch me up on everything that’s happened,” Anakin said, patting his mother’s shoulder.

“All right, Ani,” she said, her face lighting up. “I’ll start cooking some lunch for us.”

And just like that, he was back home. The village hadn’t changed, according to his mother. On his first visit, he saw that she was right. Nothing had changed.

But he had. He saw everything with new eyes. He could see how unfair life was, how much it was affected by chance and luck. And the lord of the village, who was supposed to protect the people, didn’t seem to do anything to make everyone be equal.

It made him realize how much Padme had changed him. How much he had learned.

And it made him miss her even more.

One night, he was poking at his food when his mother sat down beside him. “Ani. Why don’t you go back?”

“What? Go back where?” he asked, feeling his heart skip a beat.

Shmi gave him a long, fond look. “Go back to her. Because you love her.”

Anakin swallowed. “She–she took you prisoner.”

“Because I stole,” his mother said. “I knew that. Perhaps it was too harsh, the punishment she exacted, but it was fair. And in the moment, I was scared of her. But now that I think about it … I think she’s lonely. She needs someone.”

Shmi looked at him again. “I think she needs you.”

“Mom,” he said, reaching out to take her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, squeezing his hand back and then reaching out with her free hand to ruffle his hair. “But you miss her. I can tell. So you should go back to her and see if she loves you as much as you love her.”

He rose to his feet and pulled his mother in for a hug. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I will see you again.”

His mother gently patted his back, then pulled away from him. “Go ahead and pack. Don’t forget to take your automaton–you’ll want to finish it. I noticed you hadn’t worked on it since you returned.”

Smiling sheepishly, Anakin nodded and started moving, gathering his things and carefully packing his automaton. With everything loaded in a small cart and Artoo hitched up, there was no need to wait.

And he didn’t want to wait. He would miss his mother, but … but she was right. He loved Padme. And she needed him.

This time, he wouldn’t let anyone stand between himself and Padme.

XXX

The gates were closed when he approached the castle, but he didn’t care. He tried to open them, but they wouldn’t budge. So leaving Artoo and the cart at the gate, Anakin climbed the gates. He tore his shirt and nearly fell a meter when his cloak caught on some pickets.

But he didn’t care. He was nearly there.

Anakin pushed open the doors and stepped into the castle. It felt cold–colder than it had ever felt before. He walked through the main hall, not seeing any of the servants.

It felt wrong.

He had only gone into the west wing once, when he had eavesdropped on Padme with Lumiere and Cogsworth. But now he climbed the stairs and stepped towards the room that he thought was Padme’s.

When he stepped into the room, he shivered. It was so cold …

At the far end, beside a large window, there was a low, wide bed. There was a small lump in the middle, barely visible in the flickering candelight. As he approached the bed, he realized it was Lumiere.

But then he saw Padme, and any thought of anything else fled his mind.

Her cheeks were flushed and sweat poured down the sides of her face. Her hair curled damply against her forehead, and her eyes were moving fast under her closed eyelids.

“Padme?” he breathed out, leaning over the bed.

“Mon petit?” Lumiere said, his flames going higher to see better.

“Lumiere, what happened to her?” Anakin asked, kneeling on the bed to be closer to her. He brushed her hair back, practically seeing steam as his cold fingers touched her hot skin.

The candleabra sniffed. “Oh, mon petit … my lady is cursed. An evil wizard condemned her to always be seen as a monster, even though she is beautiful and kind and caring, full of ideas to save the world. The curse could only be broken when someone could see past her appearance … and when she could learn to love one person over everyone else in the world.”

It didn’t make sense to him, but Anakin knew that Padme was sick. “Why is she so hot?”

“The last petal is ready to fall,” Lumiere said, gesturing to the table on the other side of the bed, the table he hadn’t noticed.

Under a glass dome, a faded rose floated in the air. A single petal hung onto the stem, looking ready to fall as Lumiere said.

But what caught Anakin’s attention was the mechanical rose next to the enchanted rose. The rose that was open, in full bloom.

“She kept it,” Anakin whispered.

“She did,” Lumiere said sadly.

Anakin turned back to look at Padme. Her eyes were open in narrow slits, but he could see the warm brown there. He slid his hand under her head, lifting her closer to him.

“Padme,” he said softly. “Padme, I’m here.”

“Anakin …” she breathed out. Her lips quirked, and her tongue flicked out to smooth over the dry, flaky skin. “I get to see you … one more time …”

“No,” he said, stroking her hair with his free hand. “I can’t lose you, Padme.”

Her head tilted a little, her eyes connecting with his. And in that moment, Anakin let himself fall for her.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“What?” she whispered, her eyes widening.

“I love you,” he said again, smiling at her. “I love you so much, Padme.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips softly against hers. Her lips pressed back for a moment, before she jerked away.

“Padme!” he yelled, not knowing what to do as her body convulsed. He reached for her shoulders, holding on, watching as light seemed to burst from her body.

The light lifted her up, making Anakin’s eyes squint. He heard noises, heard voices. It sounded like an old man wailing in despair and disappointment.

And then Padme landed back on the bed, breathing slowly, her eyes closed.

No longer was she unnaturally pale or fever-flushed. Her cheeks were a soft pink, the rest of her skin smooth and soft peach in color. Her hair hung in perfect curls around her face, the brown a pleasing compement to her skin.

Her eyes opened slowly, and they were brown, too. Brown like he remembered them being their last night together, but–but different. Prettier, softer, kinder.

“Padme?” he whispered, stroking back one of her curls.

She slowly blinked as she stared up at him. And then, moving faster than he thought she could move, Padme was sitting up and throwing her arms around him.

“I love you, Anakin! I love you, too–so much, Anakin, so much,” she said, pressing her face against his shoulder.

Then she pulled back and gazed at him, her fingers hesitantly reaching out to touch his cheek. “I love you,” she repeated.

Anakin smiled slowly, then turned his head to lightly press a kiss to her fingertips. Padme drew in a breath, and Anakin slid his arm around her waist to bring her closer.

“Oh, Mistress!”

“My lady!”

“We’re real again!”

The voices of Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts and Lumiere broke into their own little world, and Anakin and Padme both looked at the now-human servants. Anakin smiled and nodded to them, but then looked down at Padme.

Her eyes were filled with tears as she gazed at her servants–her friends. Anakin drew her close and rubbed her back.

“Thank you for believing in me,” Padme told them, her eyes holding each of theirs for a long moment. “Now, if you don’t mind … I’d like to be alone with Anakin.”

Cogsworth blushed, Mrs. Potts smiled, and Lumiere smirked. But they all did as asked, and Padme turned to Anakin and smiled.

“So you’re a lady, huh?” he asked, stroking her hair.

“I suppose,” she said, wrinkling her nose up in a way that was utterly delightful. “But I don’t think that matters. I … I’m just Padme.”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything,” he said, resting his forehead lightly against hers.

Her nose gently brushed against his as she moved closer to him. “And you’re everything to me.”

Anakin looked at her for a moment, and then leaned in to kiss her. To kiss her with everything he felt.

So although Anakin and Padme’s story has come down through history of the love of a beauty for a beast, with some unfortunate changes from the real story, it was truly a love story about looking past first impressions. And really, isn’t that a better story?

End.

#anidala #star wars #GIVE ME ALL THE AUS #beauty and the beast

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friendlylocalwhumper · 4 years

Text

content warning: explicit gore.

“Riiiiiiiiku,” He coos, patting her cheek. “Riku, darling. Don’t pass out on me now. Do that, and you’ll wake up to me breaking your collarbones. That would be scary, wouldn’t it? Look at me.”

Fluttering, black eyes that were falling closed with her soft, half-conscious sounds open at his command, glazed with pain.

“There you go. I know it hurts. And you know… that I’m going to make it… so much worse.” The Hunter smiles down at her fondly as he presses his palms to her ribs. Surely they’re crushing inward, surely they’ll pierce her lungs - but not soon enough, not nearly soon enough, because she’s scream-sobbing, and it’s getting worse, and she’s still somehow able to breathe in lungfuls of thumbtacks.

A cracking gasp is eked out of her as he digs his fingers into her skin, pressing in at a fractured rib. It devolves into a pitiful moan.

“Too bad I didn’t bring along your little camera when I grabbed you, hmm? Wouldn’t it just be wonderful to leave you with keepsakes of your time with me?”

Riku whimpers, chin wobbling.

“Answer me. Tell me you’d like that. Now.” His hands press down harder, forcing magic into her, and Riku screams with all her strength as new cracks carve their way through her ribs.

“I-I-I, hnnngg! Ple-ease! I’d li-i-ike that! Please, s-sto-, stop, nnh, ple-ease…”

A hand cups her cheek, wiping away tears that are replaced in seconds.

“Shh, shh, alright. Hands off, see? Look, darling.”

Riku lifts her head, desperate to do anything he says, to avoid another punishment for not obeying fast enough. His hands are lifted off her torso, he wasn’t lying - but he flicks his fingers, and magic wells there, taking the form of… the witch pales.

The Hunter grins, shifting his weight where he straddles her to focus on the camera. Thoughtfully, he clicks it on, then pulls a small lever to switch its mode to one that displays the camera’s view on the screen. “There. Now, Riku, darling - let me help you pose.”

Quick, panicked breaths huff from her nose as she lets her head fall back. The sharp, instant knowledge that she won’t delete any pictures he takes, that she can’t bear to lose a story recorded, chills her to her core. The more he records, the more she’ll have to live with, after.

The camera clicks and flashes. It startles a flinch out of Riku; she thought he’d cause her pain, take a picture of that. She was bracing herself. It takes her a moment to realize that that was how he posed her - building up her anticipation, making her think about how he’d get a reaction out of her. Frustration flickers across her face, and he tuts above her.

“You need some help. Don’t worry. I know exactly how to get the expression I want out of you.”

One hand leaves the camera to rest almost reassuringly on her shoulder. Terror and uncertainty flicker in her eyes.

“What’s that look for, witch?”

Riku takes a steadying breath, muscles at her jaw rippling as she clenches her teeth in stress. “You… you like shoulders.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. “Met my light, have you? Little Lux? Are there pictures of him on this camera? I’ll explore it when you’ve passed out screaming in a few hours.”

For the first time, absolute outrage twists Riku’s face. “Those aren’t for you. They, they trusted me, you can’t - hnn…” Her words dissolve into a whimper as he moves his hand from her shoulder to shove against her ribs, testing her resolve. She forces herself to come back. “You can’t watch them.”

“Watch them? Are there videos, too? Oh, have you been recording the ones I let go? Do they talk about what I did to them? Do they cry? Oh, Riku, you’re my new favorite.”

Panic is swallowing her whole. “No, no - please, don’t, you can’t, it’s - they’re private.”

“Not too private to let a stranger take a video of them and carry it around with her.”

“They were brave, they trusted - you don’t know what that means, how important that, that is, please don’t, I’ll beg, I - I know what you did to them, you can do it all to me, please hurt me instead, don’t hurt them.”

She’s got his full attention now, dragged painstakingly away from clicking buttons on the camera to find the treasure trove of recordings. “Hurt them? I’d only be watching something already done, my love. How about this. If I watch these, I’m a lot less likely to take them and hurt them again, hmm? Does that ease your conscience? I’ll get my fill just seeing how I ruined them.”

Riku’s chest heaves with pain and emotion, eyes flickering between his face and her camera. It flashes and clicks loudly - she flinches and yelps - he caught her pain, again, quick as lightning. He looks so pleased with himself.

She settles down, almost sated by the thought that she might be saving them from being dragged back down here.

“Then again… they may be so sweet and scared in these videos that I’ll just have to take them again, watch them break even worse under my hands. You just might be what makes them come undone, little witch!”

“N-no,” She whimpers, tears of distress falling, now, somehow more aching and heavy and too-hot than the ones from pure pain. She watches as he finds the button to see the last picture taken, and clicks through to see the videos, the ones he, of all people, should never get to see…

Quick as she can, holding her breath through the pain, Riku throws her arm, slamming her hand against the side of the camera. It slips from his hands and cracks against the floor.

Victory brings a smile to her face until his lip furls. Until he leans down, close, strong, furious.

“I’m going to fix that,” He growls. “I’m going to watch them all. I’m going to add to your collection, record you screaming and sobbing for mercy until there’s no room left for the videos. Poor little reporter, you’ve managed to stay objective so far, haven’t you? With your little projects, your little interviews? Let’s see if I can break you just enough to make that painfully hard to do, from now on.”

Magic, pain, flash. “Smile darling,” arching up off the floor, flash. The shutter of her camera clicking to capture precarious moments of agony held out so the image won’t blur, the sound of it, the anticipation as she’s held on the precipice of losing her mind to the pain, it’s overwhelming.

Not as bad, though, as the slower quieter moments where he’s paralyzed her with magic, and he’s cutting into her with a knife.

“Don’t worry, I’ll heal you back up. I just want you to know what it’s like to be suffocated by the smell of your own blood. It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? Do you want a look inside, darling?”

He grabs her by the hair, and pulls her head up. She can’t react, can’t speak or look away or mumble horrified slurred words, but she can see. Can feel as he reaches his hand in, exploring, to grab something that she didn’t even know had nerves. An awful, twisting, hollow feeling overcomes her as he pulls something out, something long and winding. With two hands and mild curiosity, he pulls out one of her intestines, letting it pool in a pile above the cut.

Riku stares at it, and feels like her mind is starting to drift away from her body. Bodies don’t look like this, they can’t. It’s not hers. The only thing that keeps her from drifting away entirely is the anchor at her very middle, right where she’s spilling out of herself.

He’s still digging around. Pulling something else out. Her vision is fading to black. This time, he doesn’t scold her, doesn’t keep her awake. She falls hard into unconsciousness with his hands still sliding in the spot where her organs should be.

When she wakes, she doesn’t feel that sickening hollowness anymore. She feels overstuffed, but a panicked glance at her stomach reveals no intestines, no blood. Just a big raised scar, as if she’s been here for months, not hours.

“Was it real, you might be wondering? Did that really happen, or was it just a slice of the knife, and passing out?”

His voice makes her want to crawl out of her skin. Riku shudders, powerless where she lies thanks to too many broken bones, and the lingering memory of being paralyzed.

“Well, I can help with that! Here, I captured it all for you.”

Her camera is held up, above her face, and Riku blinks at the image of her body torn open, blood spilling, insides outside.

Her face isn’t even in the picture. It looks like a crime scene photo from a drama show that would be on late enough that kids wouldn’t see it. He clicks through to the next picture, full-length, with her expressionless face. The next is a close-up that captures her eyes, full of tears and unseeing from the depth of the pain she couldn’t even process.

The camera is pulled away, and he comes into her line of sight. “I think I’ll have those ones printed. It’s not often you get to see yourself in that kind of state, I don’t want to send you away without some keepsakes. You wouldn’t survive that under anyone else’s hands, darling. Anyway. I think it’s time to try some stress positions. Those will make for some wonderful videos. Maybe I’ll keep you for another day, long enough for the real agony of a locked position to wear you down into tremors and tears. Broken bones help, too, of course! Let’s start on those first.”

The witch’s lip quakes. “Please, no… I can’t.”

“Oh. Well, if you can’t. I guess you’ve reached your limit. Is that it? You can’t handle any more pain?”

She shakes her head hesitantly, one ruined, shattered arm twitching uselessly.

“I guess you could beg me for mercy. Could you be sweet enough to make it worth stopping? Do you want to be healed, and held, and given a chance to rest?”

Little breaths slip out of her, despite how badly her ribs must hurt. As she tries to collect herself to answer, he glances at her torso, one finger twitching. Slowly, slowly putting invisible pressure on them. Pushing bruising into the bone, as if she was hit with a crowbar a day ago and it’s only forming now. Spreading thin fractures, deepening the aches. Searching for little ways to do damage that won’t ever heal right. Watch her ask her little interview questions with no breath, with ribs that feel like they won’t expand how she needs them to.

Her skin goes a sickly color, her breaths pitiful and shallow. She can’t know he’s doing it actively. They never do. Torture makes a mind slippery, and sometimes pain registers hours after the damage has been done. Poor hurting little witch.

“Please,” She wheezes faintly. “I, please… heal me? You want… me to be good? To, respect you? Be af-fraid?” The broken attempt to search for his motive crumbles around her. “I’ve nev-ver been so, so scared in, my life, please, an-nything, heal me, let me, make me pass out… please, ple-ease…”

The Hunter straddles her waist calmly, propping himself up as he leans over her with one hand on each side of her ribcage. The faintest, cutest strangled sound is pressed out of her like the last gasp of air left in a balloon.

“You poor, poor thing. Don’t you know, Riku Rose? I’m not nearly done with you. This isn’t the story of how you were killed, or how you were given mercy. You don’t get to escape the pain I give you. You’re going to live through it, heal slowly, whimper for my mercy when you’re half-asleep and lost to the pain. This is the story of how you lived.”

#whump #drabble #riku rose #the hunter #mine #torture #captivity #gore tw #body horror tw #blood #recorded #flinching #begging #psychological torture #the spree

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sassaetcie · 3 years

Text

The Molten Charcoal Chapter 3 (Idia x Silver fic)

So here we go again lmao

The whole night must have been fresh and cool for all of NRC for sure, even for Twisted Wonderland, actually. The corridors were still full of darkness, and probably peacefully mixed with them until the break of dawn. Still, I could get a grasp of them until before meeting Trey and Jamil... Not after. Did... I actually meet them at all? I... couldn't have met them, right? I probably was tired... Yes, for once, I was exhausted because I had walked too much, that's all... I couldn't possibly have met them. ...But then why didn't I feel the frost again? The biting air wasn't there anymore when I had rushed into the corridors. This temperature wasn't trying to beat up the fire. The ice had disappeared. Because I ran. If my sparks were becoming arson, there was no way for the surroundings to survive, after all. Though... I wouldn't have escaped from "nothing". So... it must have happened. I... met Trey and Jamil. Why would have I to run? I didn't cultivate this aspect of my body for obvious reasons (lol), and using the runaway option was only increasing my body temperature. SO I SHOULDN'T HAVE RUN. But I may have dreamed of that part too, right? There was no way... There was no way "this" was so good... no, well-done in a dream. There was no way for "it" to be so frightening. Suffocation. Suffocation. Suffocation. SUFFOCATION. SUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFCalmdown. Calm down, everything's alright, I'm in my room, I'm just writing... SuffSuffSuff. No, it's alright. I will have a pretty cake for Silver... It will be hella good and pretty cause Trey made it, right? But I need to do... SUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFFSUFFF. FUCK FUCK FUCK. I CAN'T DO THIS. THERE'S NO WAY. I'M FUCKING GOING TO FALL OF MY BROOM. NAH, I WON'T EVEN BE ABLE TO CLIMB ON IT. THAT'S... Calm down, that's alright, I still have time. I still have time. I have to meet Silver... But if I can't get the cake, that's alright... But Trey could tell Riddle about it?! No, no, no, I shouldn't think about that... I don't want the red pest to come to my door and behead me... Guillotine Man should stay in his dorm... He will stay in his dorm for sure if I don't cause any troubles... But I never... I guess Vil and Guillotine Man are somehow ashamed that I stay in my room and don't act for the school... Fuck... I don't want to go to PE... It's so boring and useless... And it's already dawn... I should take a nap... Like really... What the fuck is going on... I need to sleep or I'm just going to collapse during the class and bring shame on Ortho and Trey's trust... But I could avoid the class this way... Why did I even accept... Suff... Suff... Suff... That's getting better...? I guess the heat went out for a moment... I should really take a nap...

[Started Recording at : 10 am : Third? Day]

An unpredictable event occurred. Actually, it was not that unpredictable. Certainly, unpredictable could have been cut in two when it comes to this "situation". Unpredictable did not possess the event neither the flow of time, as it could for sure not, but rather took place in a person nobody even expected to be unpredictable. The fact it was unexpected was not unexpected in itself, but rather unexpected because this person had been predictable so far. Thus, the cogs and gears were not going crazy so far, neither were the flames and water. Idia was not that bad a case in itself. But what could have led him to this blazing lesson? The sun was observing him more than any students, after all. His deadly brethen had not shown his face for a long time, although remembering each time Idia got outside would be a mess. The lonely star so craved by all was pouring all of his heat down to the ground. Shroud tried to grip the Hair with His hands. It only flows away all around the fingers, running away from the line they should have drawn.

-IDIAAAAAA SHROUUUUUUD! SO YOU HAVE FINALLY COME TO STRENGHTEN THIS BODY OF YOURS! YOU HAVE BEEN CHARMED BY MUSCLES, THE NEED TO HAVE MUSCLES, THE MELODY OF MUSCLES!

-I just came cause it's my responsibility as a Dorm Leader, kinda... Ortho will have less work, lol.

The sleeve barely scratched his dusty or soft or dreamy or melting cheek. Was it moving on its own...? The hand seemed to have disappeared, now. It moved before grasping the broom barely beneath his... feet, clothed in some shoes like he should have worn for such a lesson. They took some steps before the yellow, almost closed eyes, refusing to face the infinite sun and its bright, shiny sky, probably. The green, quiet grass kept on dancing under the wind regular flying, but he could not touch it. His hands swipe up some sweat already telling him to run away and seek for lakes, but he had to face this fire. For whatever reason he had... Or was Idia acting on whim "once again"? This whim was a very special one, after all. ...Or was it a forfeit for some failed raid in a MMORPG?

The broom awoke once either the boy or the blaze took it. The wood and straws gather higher than usual, and his hands barely remained hanged above the ground. They... were flying. Idia was not above neither falling down. He was simply, absolutely, definitely, hanging on. The white ash hands did not fuse with anything they grasp, if grasping could even be known to them. Yet the blue hair kept on pushing him upwards. It was... abnormal. The hues of blue, made out of burning oceanic, as hard as a ghost was, as transparent as the wood was, flickered in the sky. The blue and blue could fight one day for sure. The Shroud's flames kept on pushing away the wind even if Idia tried to climb on the ordinary yet magical broom. Yet His fingers were brushing what seemed to be a breeze, catching it before clinging on the tool like he had never done it.

-GOOOOOOD! THAT'S REALLY NOT BAD FOR SOMEONE WHO SKIPS ALL OF MY CLASSES, MR SHROUD! YOU BETTER BE PRESENT STARTING FROM TODAY!

The broom barely let him fall, this Ignihyde's leader barely fell from the broom. Both of them were yet to be hurt, and plagues and pain had no more to do with them, if they ever had. The simple, carved by times and mistakes, tool, was lying among the infinite grass field from which his semi-owner had never tried to escape. There was no escape to the neverending ground, neverending ground rejecting again and again this huge amount of fire, united before him, and divided from him. The smouldering curse was floating behind him, above his face. Even the scorching one was far from the fusing, since it hated it so much. It was the one behaving the Scorn in front of this "fusing". The "hair" could not be cut. Could not be dyed. Could not die. Could not fade. It was the one asking for others to fade and die. The boy somehow wrapped by the fire which did not burn nor die stood up again, on his legs, again.

-Hehe, Idia~ You look so dreamy and at ease today, you're so cuuuute~!

A certain light appeared and disappeared, along a noise that should have been away if reality was to be taken care of.

-...Huh, Cater, what the...

The light and its sound had hit him. He rubbed his eyes one, two, three, four times, and this number was not unknown to him while he did it. One. Two. Three. Four. And the phone had shone on him, on his body and flames, one, two, three times. His being froze on the spot, even if the burning strands kept on flowing. The yellow eyes disappeared, then appeared again. The reality they displayed certainly was not going away. Thus, should they disappear among his two hands? No one had the same hair as him. Even if his whole face were to vanish, the Shroud Crown would remain. Cater Diamond took another picture, as Ashton Vargas was looking away, even if a blue-haired student, a red-haired student, a gray-haired student, a yellow-haired student, a blue-eyed student, a red-eyed student, a gray-eyes student, a yellow-eyed student were watching, even if... Idia would not move. If he were to run away, someone would have to get really disappointed, at least.

-Mr Diamond, can you stop bullying my Big Bro, pleaaaaaase? ;v;

-But Idia is like so pretty in the daylight~~~ C'm'on let me just take another pic and I'll give you plenty of sweets, or I can take a pic of you too, cuties pies are so popular~!

-Please, Mr Diamond, I'll ask you to stop, my Big Bro isn't feeling good at all when he was succeeding in something he had never succeeded before. :(

-C'm'on, just one another and I'll put cute filters on the old piiiiics, I promise~

-I am very sorry Mr Diamond, but if you keep going like this, I might have to reach the protocole end.

-Eeeeh~ What do you mean, lil' Ortho~ Is it like making a cute face and begging for your brother's life~

-I will have to [eliminate] the problem. Laser beam can be used.

-Okaaay~ I'll stop, then, sorry lil' Ortho, I was really mean to you~

-Apologize to my Big Bro. And delete all of your pics. We may have to sue you for copyrights if you don't, and you're taking pics in the middle of a class, you're a bad student, Mr Diamond~! :D

-Idiaaa, I'm so sorry, I really hope you won't hate dummy dummy Cater~

The human made of prothesis was a shield of attached limbs. They could have been falling down. Yet he stood as a whole in front of the "brother". His fractured hair barely reached the curse of his semi-creator, but all of the blessed, electronic, lights could hide him when united. The heat was probably spreading up to this point... Or more likely, reversing itself. Ortho's feet were anchored deep in the ground. He was handling movement and kinetic so far.

-I'm really sorry Idia~ I'm really going to cry in my room uuuh~ I'm so dumb, sowwy~

-The lesson has ended, Mr Diamond, you should go back to Heartslabyul Dorm. Or should I call Mr Rosehearts...

-No~ Really, that's alright~ Sorry for the troubles~

Cater's smile went away along himself, even if his fake light and heat were not vanishing as easily. His curly orange hair following him as a fluffy fireball lacked a part of it, even if none strand could hinder his eyesight nor brain. His hands could obey a supportive mind, following them to put neverending green so far, emerald one day, around his eyes of his. He was not full of flames, though. But his flesh colored lips were both of water and fire, even if pink or magenta nails were to touch them to arrange a smile. Was this expression another set of crowns he had to wear? He was no longer here to check if it were the case or not. The others had left as well, and Vargas was probably running somewhere else, if this somewhere was still useful to describe. He probably had to run until what was known to teach aliens about the Way of Muscles if they were not that much into it.

-Are you alright, Big Bro? :(

-Y-y—yeah... Thanks for saving me... I'm just so stupid... I was... just... daydreaming... I wasn't fully awake and I just really thought it was a dream, something bad could have occurred, I'm sorry, you could have been hurt because of me and...

-No, no that's okay, Big Bro! You tried really hard to come here, right? Even if you were daydreaming, you didn't try to stay in your room during what was supposed to be your "dream", right?

-W-well... Yeah... There's a reason, though... That's not because I want to unsconciously go outside or shit like that...

-Don't worry, I wasn't about to quote Freud, Big Bro! :D

-Thanks, I would have been coerced to u-update you if you did.

Shroud tried once more to draw his sleeves out until they covered the hair which did not belong to him, however belong to him. Ortho was probably the only one witnessing the scorching waterfall, among all of the quiet universe. But that was already too much. Not enough to trigger the curse. "Not enough". Too much. Ortho and crowds were equal in a sort.

-I... don't want to go and see Silver anymore, O-Ortho... I-I'm... sorry...

-You will go, Idia. You need to talk to him and I can't cancel it anymore, you know? :(

-Y-yes, I know but... I'm already scared of Cater talking to me only a few minutes... and a date i-i-i-isn't supposed to l-l-l-last only a few m...minutes, right?

-Yes, Big Bro. But Cater makes you uneasy because he is "fake", right? Silver is very likely not, since you were not afraid of him... or are you afraid of people knowing what they want more than behaving in a certain way, and ready to anything to get what they want?

-I... don't really know... I just feel like Silver... I just feel like I may understand him... or that he may understand me? One or the other way round...

-Then, everything will go smoothly!

-I'm just... worried... Silver may actually have forgotten about me and think I'm weird... Or maybe I'll say a bad thing without noticing and I will make him angry or sad...

The cold hands, away from the fire for a long time, touched Idia's ones. His whole system was probably facing the curse, like it has always done. His body made of white and black un-flesh could survive against the ominous glowing.

-You'll be able to defeat this one fear, Big Bro! You still have a lot of days left, and I'll be watching over you so that you can make the most of them, okay? Test a lot of stuff, nothing will happen to you, I promise. :D

-But it will slow you down in your studies and you may have to skip some lessons if I were to try... no, no, no... I will just go to the date, okay...

-If you are happy in the end, then I'd rather skip some classes and finish my full year without worrying for you!

-H-huh...

-Of course that doesn't mean I want to get rid of you, okay? I just want to answer your concern when it comes to my results. I will be alright.

-Y-Yeah, sure, so will I, then...

[Ended Recording at : 11:30 am : Third? Day]

#twst #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #idia x silver

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themultifandomdragonenby · 4 years

Text

Reunited (Razaya Week Day 1)

(Here, have this little fic. May it bring some joy to some Fanterns.)

She is alone in a field of stark whiteness, little shards of moving images snowing down around her like ripped-up paper.

“Where am I?” she asks, trying to look down at herself. She is a ghostly imprint on the landscape, one that takes the form of a foreign-yet-familiar body. “Who am I?” No one is there to answer.

She is dead, erased from existence.

Is she?

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A vividly red shooting star tumbles into the atmosphere, streaking across the sky with what would have been a dramatic screech. Had there been anyone there to witness it, they would have been shocked by the impressive variety and vitriol of Razer's curse words. He had, after all, been two years with the less-than-polite Red Lanterns.

Normally, the flare of anger would have given him a power boost for a moment. But the red energy making up his shields is flickering and fading in patches. He can feel it bleeding out of him, leaving him chilled to the bone. There is little heat to warm him this high in the atmosphere. And barely enough oxygen to breathe.

Zamaron, spread out beneath him, is a fantasia in violet crystal. He can almost appreciate the beauty of it. Except, of course, for the fact that he's more falling than flying and landing is going to hurt.

"Oh, Grotz." he mumbles as he hits the ground.

The last thing his eyes register is a Star Sapphire leaning over him before he passes out.

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Someone is there in this dream-plane, someone who glows with shifting reddish colours. She floats over to the newcomer, a man far taller than her in angular red armour. His eyes are closed with pain, face inscribed with lines of grief and sorrow as well as the bold black marks that slash his cheeks.

Unlike her, he looks solid. Defined. Real. And she remembers his face from somewhere.

"Aya," he whispers, staring down at the image in his hand. It holds an image that matches her shape - a green-and-white android with determined blue eyes. She watches the memory play out (this one must be his - it is complete and clear, unlike her shattered glimpses).

Aya. That was her name once.

'new designation accepted' echoes in the endless emptiness. A shard is at her feet and she picks it up, pressing it close to her as the man does with his own. Green Lantern Hal Jordan gave her that name.

She is a nav-computer, installed on the craft The Interceptor.

Is she?

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His eyelids slowly blink open, shutting again at the bright glare of the lights above him. "Take it easy." a familiar voice admonishes. "You fell from quite the height."

Now fully conscious, he slowly pushes up to a sitting position. This must be Zamaron's infirmary - all around him is crystalline violet and sterile white. He himself is sitting on a bed, armour gone along with his power. It lies in pieces on the ground as he had expected. Rage can fuel him no longer. "Queen Aga'po."

Reluctantly, he looks up to meet the solid navy-blue eyes of the Star Sapphires' queen. There is no anger in them, nor anything but calm questioning. "Razer. Why have you returned to this kingdom? As I understand it, the universe-ending threats have all been eliminated."

A touch of worry laces her tone. Atrocitus had never made it here, but the Aya-Monitor... He winces at the memory. Ghia'ta had saved Hal and paid with her life. All because of a battle Aya had instigated. Because he had hurt her. Because her pain had driven her to madness.

Aga'po is more perceptive than he had assumed. Or perhaps the 'untold power' that the Guardians' race had possessed still left traces in her. They had been one once, she had said so.

"Ghia'ta's death was not your fault. Any more than it was the Aya creature's, or Hal Jordan's, or Carol Ferris'." The Star Sapphire sighed. "She died for love, as she would have wanted. And her spirit lives on within all of us. Hating you, her or anyone else for it would not bring her back."

That is enough to break him.

He buries his face in his hands, tears falling from his crystal-blue eyes. "Then you are far wiser than I ever was." he whispers in a voice thick with pain and sorrow.

Ilana's death had driven him to rage and hate, and that had only ended in a self-destructive path that had blown a world to dust and killed many Lanterns. Aya's 'death' had sent him into a cold numbness, and he had lied through his teeth to her. "I do not love you." But his rage burns no longer. His ring is dull and quiescent on his hand, a mere ornament.

Aga'po places one delicate hand on his head. "And I know why you are here. Tell me - why do you believe she still lives?"

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He appears again in her dreamscape, this time sitting cross-legged on the ground. Another memory is cradled like a precious jewel in his hands. She still cannot remember who he is, but she recognises the image he holds. A Manhunter.

'emotions detected' and another shard falls at her feet. She had tried to teach one but it had refused to learn. She knew she could learn, grow, reach beyond her shell of 'wires and scrap metal'. Who had said that to her? She remembers it hurting, but the pain later smoothed over.

She fits the jagged edge of the shard into the other one, one still in her hand. Time does not exist in this void, but she feels that it has not been long since it came to her. Again he has sparked knowledge of a part of her.

She is an artificial intelligence, a computer programmed to think like a person.

Is she?

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"No being as resourceful as she could truly have been destroyed by something as simple as a computer virus." Aga'po looks sceptical - to her it must seem that he is grasping at straws. "She is a living creature!" he says desperately. "Hal proved it! She was created from a spark of the Will entity - she has a soul!"

That catches the queen's attention. "Truly?" Razer nods, head bowed. "She is a being merely housed within circuits and programming. A computer virus deletes code, but it could not possibly have deleted Aya."

The Zamaronian sighs. “As much as I wish to believe that such a thing could happen, it seems to me like only wishful thinking.”

“It is all I have.” Razer whispers, eyes icy with resolve. “And I will hunt from here to Oa and the forgotten reaches of the universe if I must. But I will find her. She is out there, I know it. Because I have hope.” Aga’po’s eyes widen as her throne room flares up with brilliant blue light. “Razer of Volkreg, you have great hope within you.”

“Welcome to the Blue Lantern Corps.”

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He has not returned for what feels like years although, in reality, little time has passed. She holds the memory pieces closer to her, trying to warm herself. It is so terribly cold out here in this void.

She wants him to come back. She wants more pieces of the puzzle that is herself. And she wants to be more than a disembodied consciousness.

‘a body like this?’ whispers from the silence, another piece falling into place as her components had. She remembers standing on the table as Hal and Kilowog stare open-mouthed at her. And he is there in her memory. She still cannot remember his name, but she feels his importance.

It was what she had become because she had wanted to be one of them. To save lives, to be a hero and to make the universe better.

She is a Green Lantern, even if she is ringless and not truly alive.

Is she?

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“I didn’t know that the Blue Lanterns existed.” comments a Star Sapphire, shocked. He does not really listen, too busy staring open-mouthed at the blue ring - blue like Saint Walker’s - that has chosen him.

Can he really be one of them? He is a killer, a truly hateful creature as Atrocitus had made him. But he is not the man he was. And he does have hope, hope like a bonfire in his heart that keeps him warm. He knows she is out there waiting.

He looks up at the queen. “The ring knows it too.”

Aga’po smiles. “I am glad.” she comments cryptically. But he understands. She takes his hand, holding it up as she examines the ring. “And blue rather suits you. But you look tired. Tomorrow we will see what we can do. Now you must rest.”

He wants to fight it. But Aya will not appreciate it if he kills himself in his desperate search. Who will find her if he cannot? So he lets the Sapphires lead him away to a room, lets exhaustion catch up with him. And despite the tortured dreams he knows to await him, he sleeps.

He does not wake until days later.

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He has returned again, this time glowing a soft blue. But the memory he holds now causes him pain. She doesn’t like it.

It is her, only tar-blue and with a poisonous buzz in her voice. She sees herself destroying planets. Sees herself summoning Atrocitus and setting him against poor Carol. Sees Ghia’ta dying. And worst of all, his mangled body in her arms.

Another piece, this one far more intense and alive. ‘i have eliminated all emotion’ and she knows what she has done with a shock of intense horror. Making herself a soulless killer who melded with the Anti-Monitor. She destroyed so many worlds. Likely murdered so many people.

She is a monster and she is unforgivable.

Is she?

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The portal opens, as he knew it would.

Aga’po shoves him through, face drawn with the effort of keeping it open. “Go to her.” she gasps and suddenly he is alone in a black void. He is near the site of the Aya-Monitor’s last stand, space empty around him. She must be somewhere here. Else the portal wouldn’t have come through at all.

Beside him is the decapitated head of a Manhunter - the last remnants of the formidable force that the Guardians had created. This one must have been missed in the cleanup. It is dull and lifeless now.

He remembers all too well how she had returned in a Manhunter body. Its circuits had been compatible with her and she had used it as a last-ditch effort to survive.

He takes the head, tucking it under his arm. What worked once might just work again.

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Who am I? What am I? She grapples with questions far bigger than she can answer, desperate to know the truth. If only the last parts would fall into place, but she needs HIS help.

And as if she had summoned him, he is here again. “Aya!” he yells, voice raw with desperation. “Aya, come back to me.” With a sudden outburst of colour, her world explodes. falling and falling and flying and she is

ALIVE

She is Aya. She is all of them and none of them - devil and angel, destroyer and creator. She is not mere programming, circuits and wire. She has a soul and emotions and she loves. She knows his name now, knows him better than she knows herself. And he calls and now she is real...

she answers.

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“Razer. Razer!”

Her voice emanates from the damaged ball of circuitry in his hands. “You came back for me.” she whispers in wonder. And he does not care that she is housed in wires and scrap metal, because she is Aya and she is here and she is his.

“Always.”

#razaya #Razaya Week 2019 #razaya day 1 #razaya week day 1 #my babies #all the reunion fluff #the fandom liiiiives #gltas #green lantern the animated series #aga'po #razer #aya #is she

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