#my liability my deadweight

[itsgeecheebitch]

Until Darkness Descends

CHAPTER: 28

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XV

MAIN PAIR: Ardyn Izunia x Reader

SEC PAIR: Gladiolus Amicitia x Reader

RATING: Explicit

      Nodding your head, he wove a fantastical tale of far away lands, colorful adventures, and precarious encounters. Despite the anxiety in your gut, you leaned forward with wide beguiled eyes, hanging on his every word. While you were training away at the citadel training grounds, he was cozying up to foreign monarchs, performing great magical feats at royal balls, and traveling by foot across massive continents. 

        Before you knew it, your nerves settled and your muscles loosened. It felt like you were a little girl again, listening to your “uncle” enchant you with tales of his travels before bed. You giggled at a particularly witty detail he mentioned and he laughed along with you. 

         The world resumed its languid dance once again, the tree leaves whispering indecipherable words to the wind, while the grass swayed to their foreign tune. Ardyn tipped his head back and smiled up at the sky, the stars smiled back at him. “But enough about me, how have you been, darling? It's been some time since we last had a proper chat.”

          The events of the last few days came rushing back to you and you lowered your head. “Okay, all things considered.”

          “Yes, it's quite unfortunate what happened to the king. My deepest condolences, I know you were fond of him.” He said, noticing your change in demeanor. 

          “Thanks, but I'm more concerned about the prince.” You said.  “It was his father after all. I wish there was a way I could help him, but I just been a burden this whole time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm even worth keeping around.”

            His eyes softened. “I’m sure your friends think otherwise.” 

            “Yeah, but for how much longer?” You asked, your insecurities bleeding through. “I need to be better, I can't be deadweight. I did all this training, I did even more once I got to Insomnia, and all for nothing. I want to be stronger.” You said. You didn’t want them to leave you, but it was the only future you could see. A useless teammate was only a liability and eventually they would come to realize that too. 

            It hurt to think about it, imagining their backs turned to you, their frames becoming smaller and smaller as the distance widened between you. You couldn’t let that happen. They were all you had left and you would fight tooth and nail to maintain your place by their side. You just didn’t know how to do it. 

          Your back curved, head lowered like a blade of grass at the mercy of the heavens. Ardyn adjusted in his seat, his large hand finding yours. “Perhaps I could be of assistance.” He said, “mind summoning your weapons?”

           Perplexed, but also curious, you waved your hand, a circular formation of daggers spun before your eyes. It was one of the few magic tricks you knew, one that every member of the courts, both servant and kingsglaive alike, had to master. The weapons found their place between your fingers and you presented them to the redhead. 

           Plucking one from your hand, a violent pulse of purple mist engulfed the blade in Ardyn’s grasp. It curled around the silver object like a serpent circling its prey. You swallowed, watching the action with a mixture of dread and unabashed wonder. You’ve seen Ardyn perform magical feats before, but never had you seen anything like this. The smoke looked menacing, alive, and dark, sending spikes of ice through your being. 

           Soon the purple dissipated into the air and he handed the dagger back to you. “Here, aim for that tree in front of you.” He instructed, pointing at a tree with a large thick trunk. 

          Rising on wobbly legs, you walked a few paces towards the tree. You don’t know what he has planned but you trust Ardyn. Flicking your wrist, the blade sliced through the air. The moment the silver tip punctured the bark, the tree immediately combust into flames. The heat of the fire snapped at your retreating form, shock making you speechless. 

          You returned your gaze to Ardyn who was standing from his seat, a mischievous glint in his eyes that turned your limbs to stone. You tried to swallow but found your mouth too dry to comply. “Is that….”

           “Elementa magic.” The words slapped you across the face. That was not possible. Elementa magic was a tightly guarded secret, an ancient magic that only the Lucis Caelum bloodline could create, so how did it fall into the hands of a nomadic magician? 

          Looking back at the tree, you watched as the aging oak reduced to blackened dust. He performed elementa magic without any spells, you haven’t even seen the royal family accomplish such a feat. Just how powerful was Ardyn? Your eyes returned to the enigmatic redhead, his yellow eyes gleamed with the hungry flame. 

          Now that you thought about it, you didn’t know much about him. All these years Ardyn remained a mystery, feeding you tiny snippets of information to keep your curiosity sated, but not enough to answer the bigger questions. He still looked the same way he did fifteen years ago when you first met him, and even after many encounters you still didn’t know the secrets behind his eternal youth. 

          And now you found out that he could not only create elementa magic, but wield it without a spell. Fear wrapped its sticky limbs around your body, your fingers quivered as realization struck you on the head like a meteor falling from the sky. 

         What if the dream was real? Ardyn was a powerful magician and an even greater hoarder of secrets. You were certain you hadn't even witnessed the full extent of his magical capabilities. The idea flipped your stomach, sending acidic fire into your throat. Suddenly, you were even more aware of how vulnerable you were. Isolated and in the dark with a man who could’ve possibly harmed you in the past. 

        You turned on wooden legs, eyes to the ground, unable to meet his gaze. “There’s something I need to ask you.” You whispered, your words inaudible even to you under the roaring breeze. 

       “What is it, my dear?” He asked unassumingly. 

        The silence was deafening. You couldn’t make the words leave your mouth, as though your lips were glued shut. Anxiety fueled questions soared through your head at a dizzying speed. Scenarios smeared across your mind, each more horrifying than the last. Did you really want to risk asking your question? An accusation like that could change everything. What if you were wrong? What if it was just a hormone induced nightmare like you suspected before? You swayed side to side, nervousness breathing down the nape of your neck. 

        If it turned out that that night never happened, then talking about it would reveal that you had a horny dream about Ardyn. Fire bloomed in your cheeks. You would rather die than face that kind of humiliation. But that niggling thought continued to buzz in your gut, its persistence pried your mouth open. You needed to confront the issue, if only to put your anxiety to rest. 

        You weren’t sure what would come of it. It could ruin the friendship between you, or perhaps Ardyn would laugh it off and tease you about it. A sliver of fear shot through your stomach. Or maybe he would pin you to the ground and show you who he really is underneath that friendly facade. 

        Before you could make up your mind, an incessant jingle filled the air, your right pocket buzzed to life. You gave Ardyn an awkward glance before pulling your phone out, your boyfriend’s number filled the tiny screen. 

        Pressing accept, you brought the phone to your ear, “hello?”

        “Babe, where are you?” A groggy voice replied. 

         “Just out for a walk, couldn’t really sleep.”

         “Alright, jus’ be careful. It’s not safe being out at night, even in a city.” He said with a yawn.

          You nodded your head as though he could see you. “Okay, I’ll see you soon.” After hanging up, you dropped the phone back into your pocket.

          Your nerves flocked back to your side the moment your eyes met his yellow ones. With no wind left in your sails you said, “I have to go.” You were thankful for the reprieve. All you wanted to do was run back to the hotel and hide from your thoughts as best as you could. 

          He nodded in understanding. “Of course, you wouldn’t want to keep your friends waiting.” He said. “I could accompany you if you want the rest of your weapons to be enhanced.”

          You looked back at the tree that was now a smoldering pile of ash. A part of you wanted the power he offered. It could prove useful in battle, make you an asset, and cement your place in the group forever. It was a tantalizing offer, one that dangled in your face like a carrot on a stick. The fine hairs on your arm bristled with uncertainty. All you wanted to do was be left with your thoughts, possibilities you hadn’t entertained before but couldn’t be left ignored any longer. 

          But your duty to the crown came first, you needed what only Ardyn could give you. With a rod in your back, you nodded your head, “okay…”

#fanfiction #fanfic #a03 fanfic #ardyn lucis caelum #ffxv ardyn #ardyn izunia #final fantasy xv #ardyn izunia x reader #ardyn x reader #ff15 ardyn #gladiolus amiticia #gladiolus x reader #gladiolus amicitia #ffxv gladiolus #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy

[mxstball]

[Rising Kingdom] Identity

I've been feeling empty.

Many, many years ago, back when I lost my memories, I've always felt so powerless. Despite having my brother and sister always with me, if something were to happen to them, I would be unable to stop it.

Back then, Lati, our eldest brother, was the clear favorite, sealing himself in myths and legends in our world after defeating both Kyogre and Groudon on his own far before I showed up. He was kind, but stern. Nice yet honest. However, he would be away for long stretches of time as he was summoned by our Arceus to handle crises all around the world. 

Lauren, my older sister, was there much more often to be with me. She basically raised me as she taught me everything that she knew. However, she found her own niche in the world. Many Legendary Pokémon loved her and spoke to her. While she was not strong, she had connections and others that were willing to fight for her at her beck and call. It was this love and her ability that started her sex addiction all of those years ago, after all.

As for me, I was nothing like them. I wasn't strong like Lati. I wasn't loved like Lauren. I was just... there holding them behind by being a liability. I had no memory. I had no family other than them. For 1,000 years, all I had was a place that I was allowed to stay as long as I didn't cause any trouble... and while I loved Lauren and Lati with all of my heart, I was just deadweight to them. For so long, I wished to be strong like Lati so I could protect them and prove that I'm worthy. For so long, I wished to be loved like Lauren so I could spend my time surrounded by many people that I loved. For so long, I tried to find my own niche... to show to people that even I can do something. It's why I became an inventor so many years ago. It's why I became so into books and research. But even that didn't seem satisfying.

However, over time, I began to make peace with myself. I started enjoying inventing and reading. I liked occasionally peeking into the world and seeing what changed and what humans knew about the world that I didn't. When the world got more advanced, I eventually posed myself as a human myself and enjoyed the interactions that I've had with them. I... even had close friends and temporary lovers that were human, who accepted me for who I was... who didn't see me as an outcast, but as a part of their family. It's... why I grew to love humanity, after all.

...and it was all just in time, too, because everything changed when Lauren and I fell through that Ultra Wormhole.

"Oh! Oh! I know what I'll name you. How about 'Lacey'? Do you like that?"

Zinnia adopted me and allowed me to be a part of her family while putting Lauren in Team Magma. It was the first time I've truly felt apart from my big sister and was the first time I would live with a new family, so it was terrifying for me at first. However, as I grew accustomed to them, I realized that it was something that I wished for this entire time. I was surrounded by so many that I loved. I found a dragon that was happy with who I was and cared for me. I even joined Zinnia on adventures as her Pokémon and battled alongside her. It was everything that I dreamed, and I hoped that it never changes ---

-- but we all know that didn't turn out to be the case.

"...F--Friede.... Mother.... Wh--where-- wh--why....?"

Izanagi may have been the one that began to prompt my memory to start to return, but it was Friede that put it all into sense. I was powerful and loved, albeit in the middle of a war before my disappearance, but I had everything at some point. It wasn't perfect, sure, but it's why I craved a sense of belonging....

... but now, everyone is dead. 

That day... the day I realized that Friede had destroyed the world and wished to do the same to this world, I vowed to do everything in my power to protect this world from the fate that my old world had suffered -- whether through changing Friede's mind or by defeating her, I would be the last line of defense of this world against the World Cleanser. Initially, I hoped that I would calm her and return to my old life. I thought that I could take her on and return to my old life to live happily with my love and our Lorekeeper.

"If it isn't Heidi herself, and Melony too. What a coincidence that we found ourselves in the same world. I guess you-know-who isn't as good at extermination as we all thought."

Things were starting to improve over time. At first, there were Melony and Leifi that came to live with us, but before I knew it, we also had Morgan, Jörmundangr, Naresa, Tor, Eir, and Aegir join us. Even Icathia became the Dialga of our world. It was clear that, even though tragedy had struck, and I couldn't save everyone from the old world, that there were still survivors... that maybe I could find a happy combination between my old self and my new self....

“…This me. I am the real me. The other is… imposter. I… do not like imposter me.”

...but that didn't mean that I was happy with myself. Even then, I was starting to second-guess myself. Who was I? Which version of me was the real me? If I had to choose between myself as Lacey and myself as Heidi, what would I decide? When the Shadow Energy infected me and created my Shadow Self, it fed upon this insecurity, giving birth to the Lacey that we know today... one who had to wrestle control of herself just to wish to depart from me. Was this version of me the true version of me: one without having spirit and emotions in the way of my judgment? 

We wrestled for control for so long.... Even though I wished to find a way to find harmony between the two of us, she didn't trust me, and, until now, continued to try to either wrestle full control or find a way to separate for her existence.

“If… something happens to me… if something keeps me apart from all of you for good…, can you take care of Rayquaza for me? Can you make sure that he’s happy? Can you be there for him when he needs someone the most.”

It was some time ago when I truly began to realize that something major was going to change. Izanami was planning something big; I was still due to challenge Arceus, and staying in my marriage would only further put my loved ones at risk. I feared that I would fail -- that I would once again not be strong enough to stop those that wished harm on my loved ones, or, even if I did, that I would be ripped away from them myself.

“I keep feeling like, I’m like, at the edge. One wrong move or a little bad luck and it’s game over. Either I’m forever lost, or I turn to something unlike me, or I die– either way I’ll be leaving behind my friends… my family… the man I love…. So many people are putting their faith in me, saying that I’m the one that will help to save both here and the remainder of my world, but— but I’m scared that I– I’m scared if I can’t live up to that… That I’ll fail and undo all of the work that we’ve all done.”

I did everything that I could to make sure all was in place in case something happened to me. I made sure Zinnia was as happy as she could be. I reunited Zygarde and Rayquaza. I did research into Lauren's world to find our missing brother... I wanted to do everything so that, when I'm gone, I could smile and say, "at least everyone is happy". I didn't realize that I was bound to become an Arceus then. I didn't realize that in order to be powerful enough to challenge a Creator, that you had to be one yourself. I didn't fully process that I... that I was right to have this worry all along.

“There you go. Make sure you visit us, alright? Oh, and especially make sure you see lil’ Lati every here and there, too!”

It was the talk with Zinnia that sealed everything. For all of this time, I've tried to toe the line between Lacey, my old self, and Heidi, my new self. For all of this time, despite knowing that something will happen, I clung so close to hope that I could make everything work... but after Izanami passed away... after I accepted my fate as Arceus... after my divorce with Rayquaza..., I slowly realized that it was never meant to be. The life I knew and loved was gone -- it was the compromise that I had to make to keep this world safe from harm... to finally have the power to protect those that I loved. I would train to become an Arceus and unlock my full potential so that Friede, or anyone of her ilk, could never think of laying a single hair on my family again -- that my family can live in peace for the rest of their lives.

However, after Zinnia released me, it was almost as if a piece of me died that day... as if the part of me that grew happy with herself had been taken from me. Lacey -- the young, frail, reserved dragon that loved her family and her toys -- was dead, killed by the passing of fate, and in its place was someone that was only a shell of her and the Heidi of old.

I miss her. I missed the naive amnesiac that made new toys and played with them. I missed the meek little girl that fell in love with a dragon whose worse quality was the amount of people he would flirt with. I missed the reserved dragon that would try to talk sense into her trainer if she fell astray. I miss the one that went to Magma Headquarters to annoy her sister for dating advice or to hang out. Now, though? Everyone looks at me differently. I'm... their All-Mother now. I'm still their friend, sure, but it's... just not the same anymore, and will never be the same ever again. 

“So what if you’re weaker right now! So what if your siblings put their kid gloves on so they don’t nearly kill you. So what if they can’t go all out on you like they can their own!? So what if you need a lot more time to figure yourself out? You’re NOT EVEN THIRTY YET and you’re trying to find some damn shortcut to becoming your namesake!"

When... mom told me that Aesen challenged her to a fight, I damn near panicked. I... was reminded of myself... of my old desperation to prove my own worth, even if I wasn't strong enough to protect my siblings.... It reminded me of my gained and lost sense of self. Even worse, it also showed a sign that there was a chance that I would have lost him that day -- all without knowing what was going on. So, I yelled at him... I screamed and cried out as loud as I could, not paying attention to anything he had to say....

Have... Have I really become the other side of my old self? Am I now the one that was isolating others because of their sense of self and purpose?

What... is happening to me? 

Who really... was Heidi, or Lacey for that matter?

Heidi changed to her Low-Powered form. "Who... am I? Truly, who is the dragon that I see that looks into the mirror? Heidi? Lacey? Lacey? Someone else? I... need to know... and I want to know... what... what happened to the old me."

"I just want to be happy."

#long post #plot: rising kingdom #tw: death #muse heidi

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

My Liability, My Deadweight

Fandom: The Chronicles of Riddick

Collection/Series: My Liability, My Deadweight

Pairing: Richard B Riddick x Female Fat + Glasses Wearing Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: T (Swearing, Riddick is Riddick, violence)

Warnings: Swearing, violence towards deadly alien creatures, violence from deadly alien creatures towards the reader

Summary: None of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a holiday resort planet, relaxing by glistening waters and forgetting your troubles. Not traipsing through a deadly jungle on an uncharted planet with a just as deadly companion who seems torn between helping you and hating you.

Notes: So I guess this is going to be similar to Western AU Din in that i’ll probably write some stuff in the same sort of world/vein as this. I’m just interested in the idea of Riddick with a reader who is the opposite of a survivalist, who isn’t fit or strong, who is scared. The idea of Furyans having mates or soulmates that they don’t really get to choose and the idea of Riddick having to come to terms with the idea that the person he wants to protect so bad needs his protection more than most is interesting to me.

This is probably such a niche thing to write, not only because the fandom is tiny, but also because people tend to write Riddick fanfic where the reader or OC is extremely capable, but I wanted to write it. So self-indulgent fic coming up.

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Kratos is a horror show of a planet. It’s the sort of planet you’d never thought you’d end up on, the sort of planet that you saw on horror vids and read about in the tales of survivors of tragedy. You weren’t supposed to be on it. You were just on a short trip, just supposed to go to a stupid holiday planet, at the insistence of your boss that you needed a break from your desk, that you worked too hard. You were a city slicker, an urban citizen, not an outdoorsman or an adventurer, certainly not the sort of person who’d come to a planet like this. But, your pilot had needed to make a stop, said there was a problem with the fuel cells that he needed to check out. So you’d made a pit stop on a barely charted planet. Nothing good ever happens on a barely charted planet. 

Covered in dense, muggy jungle, the planet would have been beautiful had it not been trying to kill you and your, for want of a better word, companion at every turn. It was covered in vibrant green forest, tropical plants, exotic and brightly coloured flowers (many of which, it turns out, were deadly themselves). There were brightly coloured bird-like creatures and primitive mammals that scurried through the trees and across the ground. It would have been beautiful, except for the limp in your walk from the burning claw marks deep in your thick thigh, except for the blood that followed in your wake, the dead bodies of the crew you’d left behind, and the yellow eyes that seemed to follow the two of you under the dark canopy.

After a stupid decision by your group to go out into the jungle to try and find a settlement of some sort, just because it had seemed like (as if there was any real reason to leave), you’d been picked off one by one. You could only describe the beasts as fucked up panthers. Two tails with stingers at the end, sharp spindly spines along their backs, an elongated neck, venomous fangs and sharp teeth and claws. They were hard to spot, silent in the underbrush and decidedly and most definitely deadly. The only reason you were still even alive was because of Riddick, because for some unknown reason the man, the murderer, had decided to stick close to you, like glue. You weren’t complaining.

At the time of boarding the ship for your trip it had seemed horrifying, to know that you were travelling on the same transport as Richard B. Riddick, escaped convict, known murder, predator. He was the sort of man your parents whispered about, the sort of man that you never wanted to meet. He was someone from your worst nightmare. Now he is your saving grace and surprisingly not what you had expected of a notorious big bad. While he meets many of your expectations, crude at times, harsh, and physically intimidating, he defies them too. He is at times oddly gentle with you and, the mere fact he cares about someone’s survival other than his own, is in itself a surprise. A fortunate one for you. 

“Are we nearly back to the ship?” You ask because your leg is killing you, because you so desperately just want to get off this planet even if it means being stuck in a confined space with a convicted murderer. You hate this planet, you hate the constant feeling of fear and of uselessness. You hate the truth of it all, that you are weak, vulnerable, prey not the predator. It has you realising your many weaknesses, many vulnerabilities, many failings. 

“Shhh…” Riddick raises his hand out in front of you, a universal sign to stop, while the other comes to his lips in a shushing motion. If he were a dog, his ears might very well have pricked up at the slightest sound. 

To you nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no unusual sounds or movement in the brush. You couldn’t see anything out of place. Just as you begin to notice the silence, the lack of sound, that is the moment everything goes terribly wrong.

“Riddic-” You were cut off by your own scream. 

Things happen so fast that you don’t really have time to process them. One minute you are standing behind Riddick attempting to get his attention, the next a dark shape crashes into you and you’re on the jungle floor a heavy weight pressing on your chest and stopping your breathing. Your hands reach up instinctively, pushing against the creature in an effort to keep sharp gnashing teeth from your face, but you’re not strong and you’re not a fighter and you can feel your arms beginning to collapse already. Can hear yourself screaming for Riddick even as part of you thinks he’ll leave you there, abandon you to be eaten alive. There is a deep fear that this is it, this is the end. That it shall be painful, terrifying, lonely, and unfamiliar. 

Claws scratch at your arms, blood runs over your skin in rivulets as you scrabble in the dirt. Then as suddenly as the weight came it was gone, hefted off of you with an angry roar and the sound of a knife hitting flesh over and over again. You don’t look, can’t bring yourself to look, just lie there and breathe, in and out. You don’t want to see him do what he’s good at, don’t want to see alien blood, a dying creature, the parts of him that are less than gentle. So you stare up at the canopy and catch your breath, feeling the blood flow down your arms, the bruises that ache over your stomach, hips and legs. Feel the relief flow through you, combat the shock, as you realise you are not dead, you are alive, and he did not leave you to die. 

You’re rather numb in truth until you hear him muttering above you, “goddamn liability, deadweight…”, it shouldn’t upset you because it’s true. But it does, it upsets and angers you because you didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want any of this and you didn’t ask him to hang around, didn’t ask him to help you. You had no say in this. This was not your idea of a holiday, your idea of fun, or your fault. 

It forces you to your feet, forces you, despite the blood dripping from your wounds, to stand and face him, despite the bruises, despite the pain, despite the fear. You find yourself planting your feet even as you sway unsteadily, standing with hands on your wide hips and a scowl aimed at a man that could kill you easily. For the first time you’re too angry to overthink your actions towards the man. For a moment you stop thinking and start acting. 

“If i’m such a goddamn liability, then just leave me here! I didn’t ask for you to stay, Riddick! I didn’t ask for your help! If it’s such a fucking chore to have me along, if i’m really dead weight then leave me! Go!” You didn’t normally scream at anyone, it wasn’t your personality type. You were quiet, shy, retiring. A wallflower. You didn’t scream. You didn’t start fights. You didn’t do any of that. Anger wasn’t your natural response to anything. Fear was. But after being hunted down, time and time again by giant alien cats with venomous fangs and an uncanny ability to hide on a jungle planet, all while being called a liability, a dead weight by the one person you had to rely on, well, you were finally at your wits end. You were in pain, you were upset, frustrated and ready to just go home. 

You didn’t understand it. Why Riddick even bothered with you, practically a stranger. You knew you were a liability, that’s why it hurt so much when he said it. You were soft, emotionally and physically. You were a slow runner, a poor fighter, had terrible eyesight that required glasses, you weren’t light on your feet or graceful and you certainly didn’t know much about survival. You were overweight, unfit and unsure on your feet. You were prone to panic and tears, you were easily emotionally and physically unbalanced. Until this trip from hell you’d been content in the inner rim, working a normal job, a safe life. Your day to day had been comfortable, safe. Easy. You weren’t cut out for this, for danger and potential death and had Riddick, this known criminal, one of the most sought after murderers in the verse, not decided to stick by your side you’d have died at least ten times already. It didn’t make any sense and your frustration at yourself, the situation and at him had tears pooling in your eyes. You didn’t ask for any of this.

“I can’t.” He’s so impassive, so calm, that it pisses you off more. It pisses you off how hard it is to read him, how he hides his eyes behind black goggles that stop you understanding him. How he hides all emotion from you so easily. How is he okay with this? How is he so calm when everything around the two of you wants to kill you, when he could have left this goddamn planet already if you weren’t slowing him down at every turn? How could he stand there above the body of some hell spawn creature and just stare at you like that, like everything was just fine, just normal? Like he wasn’t covered in it’s blood. Like you weren’t dripping in your own. Like you hadn’t almost died. Again. 

“I..I don’t get it…? What do you mean you can’t? You could walk the fuck away right now. I can’t stop you! No one else is here to stop you! If you want to leave, leave! No one’s holding you back, Riddick! No one is going to stop you! I can’t bloody well can’t! Look at me!” You sound hysterical even to your own ears but you can’t help it. You are so scared, so confused, so frustrated, so panicked by all that’s happened, all that could happen. You gesture down to yourself, to the bloody coating you, the way you protectively hold yourself off of your hurt leg, the sheer stature different between the two of you. All the things that make it very abundantly clear that if he chose to simply walk away you couldn’t stop him. 

“Listen, princess, it’s not that fucking simple!” The snap is almost relieving, that he’s not as cold, not as impassive as you thought. That he could break too. That he could be angry, that he could be upset, that this wasn’t just normal. Even as his steps closer cause your back to hunch, cause you to second guess your antagonist behaviour. 

“I don’t understand!” 

With a growl he’s crowding you against a tree, thick arms caging you in. He’s imposing, large, a head taller than you and the action has him taking over every one of your senses. He never touches you in anger and while the display is intimidating, it oddly enough doesn’t scare you. It almost feels secure. Perhaps because not once has he done anything to suggest to you that he would hurt you, every move he’s made has been to keep you safe. Every time he’s touched you has been to pull you from danger or bring you back to your feet. Despite his harsh appearance, his foul language and the deadliness that he displays at every turn, he has never once given you cause to fear him. To fear how he would treat you. 

“You’re my mate, got it?! I don’t get to choose, I don’t get a choice! I can’t leave you! I just fucking can’t, so you’re a fucking liability and dead weight, but you’re my dead weight, got it? I ain’t fucking leaving you, we either both get off this motherfucking planet or we both get eaten by these fucks, princess. There’s no inbetween, understand?” Silver eyes flash at you as he tears the goggles from his eyes,  his brow furrows and the muscles in his thick neck and broad shoulders bunch and move with every piece of tension that bursts through him. You are distinctly and sharply reminded that Riddick is a predator in every sense of the word, while you are prey. You are on two separate ends of the spectrum. 

“Mate…?” Your eyes flit across the landscape behind his head, trying to process all those words and all their meanings. You don’t understand, you don’t understand any of it. But, those words soothe you in a way you can’t explain. He isn’t going to leave you. For whatever reason, for whatever this is, whatever he means, he isn’t going to leave you.  You let out a breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding. He’s not leaving, even if you’re a liability, a deadweight. Even when things get bad, he’s not leaving. He is, at this point, your only chance at getting home, getting away from him, of surviving. The panic in you begins to soothe, calm and settle. 

“We don’t have time for this.” You’re startled by the sudden display of affection as the man cups the back of your neck and presses his forehead into your own, “Just trust me.”

“I do, Riddick, I trust you” It’s hard to explain, the trust you feel for him, the safety as you let him lead you once more through the jungle. You are bleeding, in pain and still ever so aware of the dangers around you, but you have an implicit belief that with Riddick you are as safe as you can be. That if there was ever a person to carry you through this it would be him. 

You might still be confused, might not understand what he means by you being his mate or by his obligation towards you, but you know that he isn't leaving you for dead and that is enough right now. That is more than enough.

                                                ------------------------------

                                                   All Works Taglist

@charradelange @belfry-bat  @gabile18 @beccaboo929​  @trasheater

#riddick x reader #richard b riddick x reader #chronicles of riddick #richard b riddick #plus size reader #my liability my deadweight #fat reader #readerinsert #reader insert

[burnedbyshoto]

mine

— Dabi didn’t want you in the slightest, but he’d be damned if anyone touched you without knowing that you belonged to him

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pairing: yandere!dabi x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, gorey (blood and puss), branding, yandere!dabi, semi-public sex, consented sex that turns into nonconish, spitting, heavy degradation, hardcore, sadist!dabi, mindbreak

word count: 5,588

a/n: im so terribly sorry for being so late with kinktober. my keyboard is super fucked up and I had a crazy busy weekend. please do not read this if you are easily offended it got a bit crazy lol ;-; well at least for what i typically write sorry

kinktober day 17 main kink: branding | kinktober masterlist

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Dabi didn’t care about you.

As you lay on the broken, dirty mattress (was this even a mattress?) that belonged to who knows who and was in this alleyway for who knows how long, there was no telling if you wouldn’t contract some form of an STD just by laying here in your filth. You wanted to sit up. You needed to get out of this sketchy alleyway just to continue the day. But your body hurts, everything hurts.

But the tears in your eyes had long dried out. The blood, cum, spit, puss, and drool on the bed making for an unpleasant, pitiful sight beneath and on you.

But I guess there was no reason for anyone to try and take you, even like that.

There was already a warning, a brand for anyone to fucking try and take you from the person who owned you. 

His name pulsed on every throbbing, bubbling white-hot pain on your body. His hands and name forever scarred and branded on your skin.

Dabi Dabi Dabi Dabi

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

But you couldn’t even cry as a black cat with piercing blue eyes landed on the mattress centimeters from your face. It was too much.

And in the middle of the alleyway, your eyes shut, and a painful unconscious slammed through you. Consciousness no longer your friend as you ended there, ass up, gaping, cum splattering hole available for everyone to see.

It didn’t matter, you clearly belonged to Dabi, and anyone who tried to take you would be consumed with a horrid fate.

.

..

.

Dabi’s mouth was pulled back into an angry, unamused snarl.

Typically speaking, the black-haired Frankenstein of a man could look more apathetic than the gods of apathy themselves, but if you bugged him just enough, things could sink under his skin faster than you could run. But today, he seemed to have every annoying thing happen to him event after event so that he was practically simmering with putrid anger.

It had started when you had left his room in the morning louder than he liked. You both had begun a sexual relationship of sorts. As much as the League was intent and focused on driving out the hero society, libidos and sexual needs could hardly be ignored. Especially as Dabi’s own libido grew with the more success he had, the closer he was to achieve his own goal. It made sense that he and you began this relationship. He wasn’t going to touch any of the guys in the group, not to mention the fact they were about as ugly as he was, so that meant he’d have to potentially stare down at a nasty face moaning and screaming. That wasn’t going to happen. Toga was a psycho bitch that Dabi could never understand, and with her stupid stabbing addiction, he wasn’t about to trust her near his genitals. 

You had been a late joiner in the group, some dumb, weak, quirkless little bitch. 

Dabi had no idea why Shigaraki had ever allowed you to join in the first place.

You added absolutely nothing to the group.

Being quirkless meant that you were a liability in any type of fight they got into because you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself. You threw a mean punch, and you had been training with Toga in the weird-ass fighting style of hers, but it was stupid, utterly pointless because as long as Dabi and others possessed the ability to kill you without needing you near, you were a walking target. 

You were also a terrible medic. Whenever the group would return with serious and not so serious injuries, you would scream, panic, and apply bandages terribly. It was so bad that Dabi would rather die of infection than have your blubbering form try to get anywhere near his cuts and burns. 

You were a horrible liar too. Couldn’t send you into any of the Pro Hero bases or UA in an attempt to gather more information to help the group's efforts. Toga had merely transformed into a random citizen without you knowing, and your ability to be suave was a joke.

But one day, Dabi figured out why exactly Shigaraki decided to let you in, why you were someone worth letting live. He had gone to the bar for a simple drink. His head throbbing due to the fight he had gotten into while recruiting for the League. But what he came to see in that bar was that you were in the bar with Shigaraki and Kurogiri.

He looked at you as you were on your knees on the barstool. Your breasts swelling over that stupid tanktop of yours, your dumb ass shaking like a damn dog as you talked excitedly to Shigaraki. That, for whatever reason, bugged Dabi.  The tinge of color on his stupid leader’s ears and cheeks also went noticed by Dabi, and suddenly as you grabbed onto Shigaraki’s shoulders, it all made perfect sense.

You were here to be made as a whore.

Dabi ended up leaving the bar without getting his drink after all that day.

But he had caught you skipping to your assigned room, and he blocked your way, his hand shoved into his pockets as you looked down at your wide eyes.

“So that’s the role you’ll play in the world of no heroes,” Dabi spoke, his lips pulling into a lazy smirk, warmth flooding his cold skin when your own face seemed twisted with confusion and worry.

“I’m not playing any role?” you speak slowly, obviously confused, but Dabi doesn’t dwell on the confusion in your eyes or the way you step backward away from him. He follows you, stalking your every move until you’re backed against the door of his room, your doe eyes large and practically screaming for help, which only seemed to excite Dabi. You wouldn’t be finding a hero in this organization. No, you either learned how to swim, drown, or take everyone down with you. 

“Oh, so you’re not playing any games here?” Dabi asks, his hand slamming against the door right by your head, his head tilting as he leans in close to your face. He can basically breathe the anxiety spilling from your veins, festering, and throbbing underneath your skin as you find yourself unable to speak. “You joined our little group knowing that Shigaraki wanted to fuck you? Use you as the willing whore that you are?”

The fear drained from your eyes, and anger blazed instead, and for some reason, that only made Dabi more excited. He pressed up closer to you, the hardness of his cock, unable to be ignored as he pressed his swelling length to your hip.

“I’m not here to be Shigaraki’s whore,” you growled, your lips pulled back into a fearsome growl, but to Dabi, knowing the stupid, weak quirkless bitch that you were, made you look like some angry dumb puppy. “I’ve been just as wronged by this world as you have. Just because I didn’t burn off all my skin to prove I don’t fit in doesn’t mean I don’t have scars too.”

Dabi laughed, the smell of heat rising from his skin as he couldn’t help but display his power, couldn’t help but to warn you just who was capable of the most immense damage.

“Burn me,” you snapped, your nose nearly brushing against his. “Prove my fucking point.”

Dabi let out a throaty hum, the feeling of your stomach shifting against his tented pants, only serving to arouse him more. 

“Trust me, pup, I don’t have all my skin burned off,” Dabi couldn’t help but ignore your own issues of being upset as his mouth crashed against yours.

That night, Dabi realized that maybe you did serve this group in two ways, albeit one was much, much more important than the other. 

One, the lesser important reason: you brought in a new demographic. A new viewpoint of people who had been hurt by heroes and civilians who looked to All Might like a god. Quirkless people, and people with quirks that practically made them worthless, were seen as inferior because they weren’t unique. They could never be like All Might. And for that, they were seen as less, a group that deserved to die and were discriminated against for reasons far beyond their control.

Two, the more important reason: you were Dabi’s fuckhole.

This sexually frustrated, anger-fueled sex the two of you had was more than ideal, really. Dabi loved to fuck you whenever he needed, whenever he wanted. He took you anywhere and everywhere he wanted. Each time he grew bolder and bolder until he was fucking you during a meeting, fucking you while you were in a car with everyone, making your way to the next destination. 

He could care less about your whining pleas to only fuck in a room where no one could see, couldn’t care if you thought the alleyway was dirty, and the scent of dead burning bodies made your head spin. You were a quirkless fuckhole, and you would do as he told.

But Dabi would never admit you were his.

No, he would not.

Not now, not ever.

But there was something stupidly irritating and annoying hearing barely useful members of the now Paranormal Liberation Front. Everyone was obsessed with you, the useless quirkless girl who was weak and needed protection. Everyone loved the way your tits bounced when you hopped around excitedly, loved the way your ass shook when you were sitting at a bar because, for whatever damn reason, you could never sit on your fucking ass.

So, that’s where we find Dabi. His mouth pulled back into an unamused, angry snarl as you talked with some nameless member that Dabi thought was better off dead than as some deadweight help. 

“You can’t expect y/l/n-chan to be so kind to you when you’re quite the asshole to her, Dabi,” Compress chided Dabi as he took a smooth, slow drink from his sake. “You pester her daily, and from what the rumors tell me, harass her often enough that I’m surprised she hasn’t taken your face off.”

“She’s too fucking weak for that shit,” Dabi snapped, his eyes narrowing when your hand placed itself on the nameless shits arm. “She can’t do shit; that’s why she’s acting like a shallow whore. She’ll let anyone fuck her as long as it means she gets protected.”

Compress raised his eyebrow, his face not letting anything on as he slowly placed his glass down.

“Y/l/n-chan sleeps around?”

Dabi actually felt the heat rising from his skin. He didn’t know if you were, and the thought of knowing that someone other than him was fucking your tight little pussy after he did irritates him much more than he’d like. 

“I don’t fucking know, you’re the one telling me about fucking rumors. You tell me.”

“From what I hear, she doesn’t give in to anyone, despite the obvious flirting,” Compress shrugged when Dabi’s eyes locked on him in bewildered disbelief. “Why do you care, Dabi? You’re typically so aloof and annoyingly stoic. What about y/l/n-chan makes you so temperamental?”

Dabi felt his spine stiffen at those words, the inquisitive yet entirely sharp words that gutted him from the inside out. Dabi didn’t care for you. He knew he didn’t. If you dropped dead in the middle of the floor in three seconds, he knew he wouldn’t panic. He wouldn’t mourn you. He might mourn the warm body he fucked whenever he needed, sure, but not you, never just you. 

He blinked.

He didn’t need to like you for you to be his.

Heroes were what was wrong with society, but relationships were also what was wrong with people. The twisting desire for equality and equity between two different people when it should never be as such, to begin with. Dabi was powerful. You were quirkless and weak. Dabi held power, he was the one who should be deciding what you should be able to do, what you can’t, and something in the depths of his mind finally clicked. 

You were his.

You belonged to Dabi.

You were nothing without Dabi.

The laugh that poured from your lips and the man next to you, that Dabi swore he could hear right now, suddenly made sense as to why it bothered him. You don’t entertain or try to use things that don’t belong to you. You use only what is yours, and anyone who tries to touch what belongs to you is allowed capital punishment.

But Dabi, against better judgment, wasn’t a trigger happy idiot.

No, he was aware of the things idiots needed to see in order to back off. To understand that some things were there for free, and other things were already taken. He laughed, grabbing the rest of Compress’s sake and downing it before slamming it onto the table and standing up, ignoring the angered curses from Compress as he stalked toward you.

There weren’t many things in life that made Dabi lose control of his emotions, but knowing that you were out in the open without a clear mark that you were his was slowly making its way on that list. 

“Let’s go,” Dabi says, his voice perfectly calm despite the heat blazing off his every muscle. His hand was wrapped around your wrist, gripping your skin tightly as he tugged you from the barstool.

It didn’t take much for you to fall off the stool, your stupid way of sitting on bar stools allowed significant imbalance, and Dabi knew that a sharp tug is all it took to have you stumbling off.

“I was talking with Trumpet!” you cried, unable to keep from stumbling after Dabi, your eyes focused on Trumpet.

“I was speaking with y/n, if you would allow us to finish our—” Trumpet also piped up, his hands reaching to button up his suit as he stood.

“Shut up,” Dabi spoke coldly, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he took in his gaze. 

With that, Dabi continued to walk away, dragging your protesting form behind him with every great stride he took. Dabi didn’t know where he was walking, only knowing that he was ignoring every question and angry demand that filtered out of your mouth like white noise. He took sharp turns, disappearing into the alleys that he knew all too well until he found the spot he was looking for.

You were panting heavily when you suddenly slammed into Dabi’s back, exhaustion already setting in your bones from the awkward run you had to maintain in order to keep up with Dabi. You weren’t an idiot; you knew that Dabi wanted to fuck the moment that he appeared behind you with a wave of hot air. But you hadn’t expected it to be while you were in the middle of a conversation with Trumpet; while he was an asshole, Dabi always let you finish your conversations before taking you to fuck. But not this time.

Which worried you. 

Both of you had fucked the entire night last night. Your body had been abused in a million exciting ways as Dabi unleashed his libido onto you, and you had kept up swimmingly. Typically, a fuckfest like that was enough to satisfy him for a few days, two days at least, so to have him back on you within twelve hours was a bit of a shock. 

The sun was still in the sky, after all.

“You really know how to piss me the fuck off, y/n,” Dabi spoke, his tone and words ice-cold despite the blazing heat of his body. “Why is it that you think you have the right to flounder yourself off like some common bitch?”

You freeze. Oh? Was he jealous?

You had no time to even open your mouth to ask, most likely having taken too long to answer his question because his hand flared with heat, and you couldn’t help the scream that ripped through your throat. Tearing your hand from Dabi, you looked down at your burnt, throbbing skin. Your eyes widened, pained tears in your eyes as Dabi turned around, his eyes blank, cold, lifeless. 

“I’m not sure if I ever made this clear before,” Dabi asked, stalking toward you, and you whimper, holding your tender wrist to your chest as you feel something make contact with the back of your calves. “I don’t care about you. If you were to disappear the next day and never return, I wouldn’t care. Maybe I’d miss your pretty little pussy, but other than that… nothing. But you need to understand something for as long as we’re together and for how long we’re apart: you’re mine, y/n, just mine.”

Your eyes are wide, terrified of the monster before you. This wasn’t the Dabi that fucked you every night before this, this was someone else, and sour acid hits the back of your throat. 

His lips are on you without hesitation. The biting coldness of his staples on his cheeks and chin burn against your skin, and his hot hands are against the cold skin of your waist, and you gasp loudly. His tongue invades your mouth immediately, and you whimper, feeling how much colder his tongue was in comparison to yours. But you know what it’s like to share a bed with Dabi, you know that he knows of your bodies every twitch and innate desires, and like a trained dog, you cave to him despite the painful tears dripping down your cheeks.

His kisses are much like his fire, hot, encompassing, all-consuming until there was nothing left except the smell and taste of ashes and smoke. You fell to his needs immediately, the hot, swollen throb in your wrist going ignored as you kissed him back, wanting to taste the smoke on his tongue. So as the heat of his body evaporated the tears off your cheeks, you caved into his kisses. 

Your wrist throbbed as your hands reached up and curled into his hair. 

But the biting possessiveness of his body was all too apparent to you as his teeth buried into your tongue and sucked on it harshly. You gasped, your body arching into his touch as you opened your closed eyes to peer into his piercing lifeless eyes. 

You moaned, body trembling with the wild desire to make him feel good, to make yourself feel good. But you fell, his teeth letting go of your tongue and his calloused, burnt hands pushing you onto the object beneath you. The mildewy mold scent of the mattress beneath you burned into your nose, somehow damp even though there had been no rain for weeks.

Dabi was on you immediately, his body between your legs, lips simmering against your mouth once more, and his hand on your throat. His staples scraped against your chin, the cold metal scratching into your skin until it hurt. You can’t recall the last time he put this horrible power on his grips, you felt your head beginning to spin with the slow, dizzying throb of losing all oxygen, but Dabi took no mind to your struggles; in fact, it seemed to be enjoying it.

“Come on, doll, kiss me back like you actually fucking mean it,” Dabi snapped, his hands burning even more against your throat, and the other made contact with your pants. Your clothes were burnt to singe, the smell of burning fabric had long been a scent you had been familiar with, but you couldn’t even gather the energy to cry about the clothes he just burnt off your body. “Stop acting like a little bitch,” he growls, obviously noticing your shift in character, “be a good doll, and do as you’re told.”

Despite the burning, stabbing feeling in your skin, and the way you couldn’t keep the silent tears from stopping you from doing as you were told. You kiss him back as you once had before, your jaw dropping and your tongue reaching to meet his. 

Dabi growled, clearly liking the suddenly positive response from you, and you trembled against his hold. But, soon, a new scent filled your nose, a unique scent that aligned with the painful burning of flesh.

“You see, I don’t like it when things that belong to me don’t do what I want. I especially hate having to share things that are mine. Don’t get cocky, sweet thing, you’re my precious doll, but I don’t give a single shit about you,” Dabi spat against your lips, his mouth speaking against yours, and his eyes staring straight into your eyes. 

Or they would have been should you not have been in such trifling, nauseating pain as Dabi’s hand burned against your skin. His quirk sizzled against your skin, creating a perfect brand of his hand on your throat, but the pain was immeasurable, horrifically painful as you wailed against his mouth.

“Let me go, let me go, let me go!” you screamed, your hands fisting and pathetically slamming against Dabi’s shoulders, pleading to be shown mercy.

But Dabi merely looked down at you with sadistic disinterest, relishing in the way the smell of your burning skin wafted into his nose until he let go. 

You tried to scream, tried to cry to whatever god may be looking down at you to come and save you, but you found you couldn’t. The burnt, pussing bubbles of infected flesh bubbling on your throat were tight on your sweat-slicked skin, and every small movement made it feel worse.

“There we go!” Dabi grins again, his eyes wild and almost demented as he flips you over so that your naked ass is hanging out in the air, able to be manipulated to his will. The tears in your eyes were still streaming down your face, intermixing with the blood and popped blisters on your skin as Dabi pressed you into a position that would make things easier for him to fuck you in. “I can’t fuck you when your cunt is buried in this box.”

You make a noise, a small noise that sends a powerful wave of nausea through you as Dabi separates your legs and curls his fingers within your slick cunt. 

“Glad to see that your little pussy is still wet as fuck,” Dabi groans, his fingers scissoring deep within you, stretching out your hole until you pathetically cries into the mildew scented mattress. Your body pulsated with a different stimulus; the pain in your throat still burned and was feeling itchy. The thud in your wrist hurt to move. But the pleasure of his fingers buried deep in your cunt made your eyes cross and your mouth pant in the overcoming sensation of your pussy being tended to.

“D-Dabi,” you manage to croak out, the tears running down your cheeks, once more intermixing with the thick blood and puss on the burn. Your voice was disgustingly hoarse, sounding akin to someone with smoker's lungs. “P-Please.”

“P-Please what?” Dabi mocked, his hips grinding against your exposed, pert ass. You could feel the hard cock in his pants, the shift in the fabric as he dropped his own pants and underwear to rut his piercing covered cock through your asscheeks. “Don’t think about me fucking your ass, you dirty fucking bitch, I’m not gonna do that weird shit.”

“N-No!” you whimper, your unburnt hand reaching behind you to grab onto the fabric of his coat that he refused to remove. Somehow, the movement made the throbbing flesh on your throat hurt more, and you swallowed the rising bile in your throat, gagging. “D-Dabi, f-fuck!”

“You want something better than my fingers?” he continued to question, uncaring that he knew exactly what you meant by those words. He was too focused on the way your walls were much tighter around his fingers right now, a vice trap that made him both eager and unwilling to shove his cock deep within your womb just yet. 

You mewl in frustration, your hips shifting against his intruding fingers, desperate to get the coldness of his pierced cock within you already. The pain was still very much alive, but the pleasurable build in your core was quickly outweighing your mood. 

“Oh, I get it,” Dabi sighs, his fingers exiting your throbbing, soaked cunt, both his hands slamming onto your ass, gripping the flesh with all the strength he had. “You want another fucking brand. You want the world to know who you fucking belong to, who fucking owns you until the day you die.”

The words send a panicked throb in your stomach, but before you could protest, before you could make note that this was not something you wanted, his fingers grew hot. Hotter and hotter, they grew until the blue of his flame felt like scorching white heat under your skin. Impossibly unbearable pain and branding scarred into your skin as you’re able to ignore the resulting pain in your throat to scream so loudly, your voice bounces off the alley walls multiple times. 

You can’t see what he did, but you can tell that his handprints are scarred to your ass; you can feel the puss-filled blisters rising from the skin as Dabi continues to massage the skin as if it was a bruise and not some second-degree burn. You sobbed into the mattress, your face buried into the ugly fabric, snot, and tears pooling onto the surface until you were choking on your spit and rising bile. 

Before you could even adjust to the pain, your mind pounding and reeling with the stinging, melting sensation on your ass, something thick, cold, and pierced rams into your throbbing cunt. Your body lurches forward with the initial thrust, your body, despite the pain, jumping from the shock of Dabi’s cock entering you.

It’s a familiar feeling, a feeling you loved, but you can’t focus on the sense of the many balled piercing gliding against your ruffled walls. The extra stimulus pointedly ignored because the pain in your ass was currently outweighing the pleasure he was giving you. But Dabi doesn't care. Why would he care? You’re his doll, and right now, he’s in heaven. Your cunt was blistering hot against his cock and oh so fucking tight. Dabi knew why he was so obsessed with you, and it started with that tight pussy of yours that could milk him dry without even trying. 

Dabi smiled, his hands raising off the branded handprints on your ass that were caked with already horribly forming scabs, blisters, pus, and blood. He felt giddy seeing your ass, covered with trembles and sweat, covered with his handprint. There was no denying you were his, no denying that you were here to serve the League as nothing except his fuck doll. No one would want you now that you had three of his handprints branded on you, and not even he could love someone with as ugly scars on your body.

So, with the stammering, choking cries that poured from your mouth for Dabi to stop because his rutting hips slamming against your newly branded ass was too much, Dabi let his head drop back, flooded with the sense of elation and euphoria. 

You were his.

Finally his.

Only his.

“It hurts!” you screamed, your hips shifting in your feeble attempt to escape his barbaric hold. “It hurts, Dabi!”

“If it hurts so much, why the fuck is your cunt so wet?” Dabi mocked, his hips slamming into you with deeper, faster strokes. “Why the fuck are you moving your hips like a desperate whore if it hurts?”

You howl in your pain crossed pleasure, the tears soaking your face, and the mattress seemingly flowing from you without end in sight. Much like the squelching slick in your cunt that grows louder and louder and the Jacob's ladder on his cock pressed further and further into your warm velvet walls. 

“Because it hurts!” you screech, your fingers tearing into the mattress, your body spasming from the overload of sensation. Your mind slips through the cracks of consciousness, and the pain begins to override your mind.

“Oi, oi, oi!” Dabi yells, his hand coming down to slap the blistering brand on your ass, completely waking you back up. “Don’t you dare knock out on me, doll. I might call you a doll, but I don’t want you to be some fucking dumbass ragdoll when you’re on my cock!”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, your eyes crossing and your vision spinning with the onslaught of sharp, stinging pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Mm,” Dabi hums, clearly pleased with your apology. “Seems like after so long, you’ve finally accepted your useless, pathetic, quirkless ass can’t do shit.”

So, his hands shift from your ass and move onto your hips, enjoying the way your skin is so soft, so easily bruisable beneath his hold. Your body seems to block out the pain he brings to your body and only accept the lulling pleasure of it all. The noises of his drilling cock into your sobbing cunt is loud, the sopping noises loud and soft in both your ears. Dabi has half a mind to wonder if anyone would walk by the alleyway, hear your desperate, pathetic noises and call the cops. 

He smiles lazily as his cock brushes against the wall of your cervix. Would he kill you in front of them all and then them? Maybe he would make you beg for his cock more in front of the officers and kill them all should they be aroused. He laughed as his cock slammed into your cervix, the squealing pleasure ripping from your throat at the feeling, and Dabi felt light.

Oh, yes, yes, yes.

How pathetic would that be?! Heroes getting aroused as he fucked such a poor girl in front of them! Of course, they’d have to be killed because that would be immoral of them, and not to mention that once anyone got a lustful eye on, you deserved to die.

You were his.

Only his. 

“Who does this pussy belong to?!” Dabi snaps, his hand grabbing your hair by the roots. “Who?”

“Dabi!” you laugh giddily, your face still streaming with tears, your lips bloody and bitten raw. “Dabi! Dabi! Dabi!”

Dabi growls in his satisfying pleasure, his hand throwing your head back onto the mattress, and his hands press onto your shoulders as he begins to thrust faster, harder, more power into your clenching tight cunt. His fingers tear into your skin, breaking the skin and watching the ruby red liquid ooze from your skin. 

That causes you to scream, your face twisted in slight pain, but Dabi presses onward. 

He has one last thing to do.

“Such a good fuck doll, don’t you think you deserve to be rewarded for being such a good fuck? For having such a sweet, tight pussy?” Dabi asks, his teeth biting against the nape of your neck as he continued to fuck you until fluids were beginning to seep from your cunt. “I’m going to make sure that everyone in the fucking world knows you belong to me, that you are my precious fucking doll and no one else's, okay?”

You keen loudly, your body shivering underneath his, and your head nodding, your tongue unable to produce any more words.

Dabi raised his finger, the tip blazing with a small, concentrated blue flame, and he makes contact with the skin on your back.

Dabi Dabi Dabi Dabi

His name is written repetitively on your back. The layers of skin on your back wholly burned off so that the twitching pink of your skin muscles are shown. No blood comes from there.

Dabi laughs, delighted with how fucking perfect you look with his name on your back, and you seemed to have flipped out of your broken mindset and shoved back into the horrors of the pain your body was experiencing. You gagged loudly, screaming and twitching with immense pain, but Dabi continues.

“You don’t mean shit to me, though, doll; I hope you know that!” Dabi snickers, his cock throbbing when he felt the familiar milking sensation of your cunt as you finally came around him. He continued to ram his cock into you, savagely uncaring of how you begged from him to stop, pathetically asked for him to heed. “You’re nothing more than my cumslut, nothing more than some stupid sex doll for me to use. And now you’re completely ruined! No one will want you with my brand all over you! No one will, and I sure as hell don’t want you forever!”

Your body stills under him, not quite limp as though you might pass out, but cold, frozen.

Dabi doesn’t care; he never has as he countries to hammer his cock within you, his tongue sweeping over his front teeth before spitting onto his branded name on your skin. You flinch greatly at the burning sensation, your eyes trying not to close with unconsciousness as ropes of his cum and seed spill into your cunt.

You lay there, unable to move, as Dabi stands up, quickly dressing and leaving you with a mere chuckle.

You were ruined forever, you suddenly realized as we make our way back to the beginning scene.

Cold, used, quirkless.

You had no purpose in life except to be Dabi’s whore, and even he didn’t want you.

The darkness consumed you in the worst of ways right then.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020 #tw: noncon

[goodkwuestion]

I came into this chapter very scared. I had girded my loins and prepared for a world of hurt and now I can finally breathe.

Don't get me wrong I still hurt, but this was the perfect follow up to last week's brutality, where we could take a step back from the heartache and build up all those other stories boiling in the background. Ned and the council, Mickey and Mandy having untold supernatural potential, Mueller's motives..... Ugh this is so good Kay you beauty you.

But can we talk? I know you love a cliffhanger but this is out of control. Have some mercy on our souls please🙏🏽🙏🏽. Constantly being on the edge of what will happen next week is not conducive to me being a productive member of society.

2/2 Also, how could I forget about Linda. Does this mean Dal will be making an appearance?

He's exactly the type of person who would be involved in sleazy deals between the vamps and the council.

Again, I must say this was most definitely not a cliffhanger. Could y'all not be so dramatic? Sure it's Dark Ian, but he already assured everyone that he will NOT eat Mickey. He definitely wants to, but he won't do it. So it's all fine.

Girl, you really think Linda made it all the way to the top if the DoD carrying the deadweight that is Salvatore Boerio? The moment she realized she had a legit political future, dear old Sal went the same route Jimmy Hoffa did. Your girl has no time for liabilities.

#ycbm spoilers #writing #good question #asks

[fierce-little-miana]

Double Sword

Fandom: Hakuouki

Setting: Canon compliant, takes place some time after Dr Matsumoto’s diagnosis of Souji’s tuberculosis but before it is cristal clear for everyone in the Shinsengumi that Souji is gravely ill. 

Pairing: BroTP Okisai, Angst

Dedicated to  @himiko-omikami who gave me the idea and must have been wondering what happen to the fanfic I told her about. Beta-read by the lovely @fleeting-blossom-of-the-dawn (who wants Hijikata to do WHAT to Souji???)

Something wasn’t right. Saito was sure of it. Sometimes too much silence around something just increased the concern about it. And Souji’s situation was starting to be very concerning.

 He had been ill for too long now. Saito suspected that Souji probably never actually recovered from what happened to him at Ikedaya, whatever that was. He had been back at his duties of course, it would have taken an event of cataclysmic proportion to prevent him from serving Kondo, but he had been resting more and more. Eventually he even started spending days bedridden, even if the word was not used.

 Souji needed to rest, that was all Hijikata said. The reason for which he needed to rest was never mentioned. Saito was not entirely sure Hijikata had a clear idea of it. What he was sure of however was that Souji knew fully well what was the issue since Doctor Matsumoto’s visit, and he resented it. More surprisingly, it seemed that someone else knew about this. Someone unexpected.

“ - He would make a faster recovery if he started listening to what he is told to do, said Yamazaki who had stayed to dine with them after making his report to Hijikata.”

 Saito’s eyes landed on Yukimura who twitched at the comment. No-one else seemed to have noticed her reaction but Saito had been watching her since the subject of Souji’s absence had been brought up. He wasn’t eating with them tonight and he hadn’t been for the two previous days, so someone ended up commenting on that. Yukimura had been uneasy since the beginning of the conversation but she looked a bit pained by the last comment.

“ - I have heard he is far from being a dutiful patient, isn’t he Chizuru-chan? asked Nagakura.”

 It seemed to bring Yukimura back to the present. She was one of the very few persons actively taking care of Souji during his recovery so it wasn’t strange that someone would eventually include her in the conversation. However, she looked startled by the question. Thankfully for her it was Harada, probably feeling her discomfort, who answered:

“ - And it surprises you? Frankly I would be more concerned if it was the opposite. A docile Souji is not something of this world.”

 Laughers followed this declaration but Hijikata, who hadn’t taken part in any of the conversation, kept having a bleak look. Yukimura was relieved not to be the center of attention anymore and she quickly lowered her gaze to her trail not to lift it again for the rest of the dinner.

 Yes, Yukimura knew and she seemed adamant not to share her knowledge with anyone else. He could not blame her. The fact that she was aware of something Souji didn’t want anyone else to know about was surprising enough. No matter how it came to be, it seemed to have created some sort of balance thanks to which he allowed her to tend to him. Saito was not about to take that from Souji by finding a way to make Yukimura talk. He would have to wait.

                                                          *  *  *

“ - I feel better! declared Souji for the second time of the meeting.”

 He did look better. His skin was less pale and his eyes less feverish. He even didn't cough once during the entirety of meeting. However, he had started to drop a bit of weight. It was barely visible, but it was there. Even the fact that Souji had spent the afternoon outside training for the first time in days could not distract Saito from this.

“ - Then why didn’t you start back training your unite today? replied Hijikata who was starting to get impatient.

- You are mean Hijikata-san. I haven’t done anything interesting in days and you would make me start by losing my time.

- Training our men isn’t a waste of time.

-When they are bad yes it is!”

 This was going to keep on going. Souji had been invited to a meeting between Hijikata and Saito about an operation that was supposed to take place this very night. Anti-Bakufu activities had been noticed around a shop. After further inquiry it had turned out that said shop was a front for a depot of weapons. It had been agreed that the Shinsengumi should make a raid on the shop and neutralize all men involved. According to their information the plotters were meeting tonight.

 Saito was in charge of the raid. They were determining the last details: how many men exactly he was going to take with him, or which road would they take. Saito would be leaving with a handful of men at midnight. But now that he had been made aware of the operation Souji was much more eager to take part in it than to help planning it. Of course, Hijikata would have none of it.

“ - The fact is you are still recuperating Souji. Having you out there is liability.”

 Souji’s pupils went hide with shock. Hijikata could not have achieved more if he had slapped him. Numerous emotions passed on his face, indignation, pain, fear, despair, but eventually his expression settled on pure fury:

“ - I am not a deadweight! The only person making me one is you! I am fully able to cut down Kondo-san’s enemies! Do you need someone else’s opinion on this? Someone’s opinion you might actually value? Well let’s ask Chizuru! I am sure she will tell you that I am more than able to do this.”

 What was absolutely certain is that Yukimura would have no choice than to agree with a Souji in that state if she valued her safety even just a little. And Hijikata’s tired expression showed Saito that he too realized that. Yet Souji was already on his feet ready to exit the room. Hijikata sighted. He was about to speak when Saito realized that nothing good would come from this conversation:

“ - I want Souji with me for this raid.”

It stopped Souji in his track. He turned toward Saito before bringing his attention back to Hijikata. There was a hint of despair on his face again. Hijikata wasn’t looking at Souji anymore, his eyes were on Saito. He was asking a question. Saito nodded.

“ - In this case fine. You can go.”

                                                          *  *  *

 Walking at Saito’s right, Souji managed to sulk and be immensely proud of his achievement at the same time. He sulked because Saito had to step in for him to be allowed to take part in the operation but the pride of being fighting again for the Shinsengumi prevailed. Saito could see a slight grin on his face despite the darkness of the night. Well as long as he was in a good mood everything would go just fine.

 They had taken eight men with them, all of them good fighters with strong nerves. Considering that Souji was here, Saito had no doubt that the operation was going to be a success. They were a bit out-numbered by the men they were supposed to neutralize but they had the surprise element and the superior talent on their side.

 Finally, the shop was in sight. They stopped one street away from it. There was a weak light coming from the first floor. It was only visible in one window. Someone must have been using a lantern covered with a piece of fabric to be more discreet. From time to time the light flickered as if someone was passing in front of it. As planned, there were people in there, people who didn’t want to be noticed.

 With a slight movement of his head Souji indicated a street closer to the shop. There was supposed to be another entrance there. Saito nodded and signaled to four men to follow him. Before leaving their first hiding spot Saito looked back at Souji one last time. He was not grinning anymore. He was out right smiling.

 In less than a minute Saito and his men were facing the back entrance. He gestured to give the signal. A man drew a small whistle from his sleeves and blew it. The sound was almost imperceptible for someone not expecting it. Saito waited a minute. Finally, he launched the assault.

 The door came down crumbling. Saito didn’t even bother announcing their intent. Indeed, there was no need. Realizing what was happening a man started screaming:

“ - Bakufu dogs!”

 He drew out his sword and was on Saito in an instant. He tried slashing him vertically, but Saito only had to move to his right to avoid the blow. The man lost his footing and it was only too easy to open his stomach with a well-placed stroke. Saito left him dead on the floor.

 The other ones had also stopped what they were doing and had their sword in hand. Three of them threw themselves on Saito and one of his man who had come to his side. Saito went under one’s guard and had slit his throat before the other two were even close enough to intervene. The man next to him struggled a bit with one of their opponents but he had him undone by the time Saito was sending the third one down.

 Now that all his men were in the shops with him some of their opponent were starting to retreat toward the main entrance of the shop, trying to flee no doubt. Saito was himself too busy with two swordsmen to do anything about it, but he wasn’t concerned. Before any of them could reach safety, the door flung open. Souji was of course the first one to enter. He slashed one of them open with a vicious blow before the man could even conceive a strike.

 With more rooms to move in and coming from both side preventing any coherent counter measure, the men from the Shinsengumi were quick to defeat their opponents. One man did manage to pass by one of their men on Souji’s side. He shoved him aside sending him on the ground but Souji was here to deal with it.

 He turned toward the runaway, blocked a blow with ease and send him back several steps behind in one single violent movement. He looked like he was having fun. Seeing how easily he could counteract even the more daring of their adversaries seemed to increase his good mood even more.

 Saito had to shift his attention back on his side of the fight. A man with a nearly severed right hand was coming at him with the energy of despair. Once again Saito preferred avoiding the blow and stroke back in a deadly swift motion. As his blade cut through the flesh, he heard what was for him a typical rough cough. He turned his head toward Souji at once.  

 He was coughing violently and forced to retreat. The sight seemed to startle even his opponents for a minute. At least up until Souji missed the entrance step and fell back. Thankfully his fall was stopped by the wall behind. His back collided with it violently, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He was still trying to stop coughing.

 There was a moment of hesitation in the shop. Then, the three men still left standing on Souji’s side threw themselves at him. Souji had stopped coughing but he was trying to find back his breath and looked disoriented.

 One man was on him and Souji’s face was still turned toward the floor. Saito was too far to do anything. He did hit someone with his shoulder to try reaching them anyway. In front of Souji the man raised his sword. No-one was fast enough to help him on his side either.

 Souji rose up. In one masterful stroke he hit the man before he could even drive down his sword. The blow was so violent that the man was nearly cut in half from his left side to his spine. Souji had to struggle to get his sword out of the body. The other two attackers stepped back. Souji followed them and slashed them mercilessly. He wasn’t having fun anymore he was exercising retribution. They quickly followed the first one in death.

 One of Saito’s men killed the last opponent on their side. Souji cleaned his sword on his sleeves, sheathed it, and sat down on the very step he had stumbled on. Saito saw him close his eyes and shiver. He let him there to rest and went with some of his men to retrieve the concealed weapons. When they would be back at the headquarter, they would have to send a messenger to inform the Aizu clan of the events of the night but, in the meantime, they couldn’t let the weapons disappear.

 They managed to find everything in a bit more than fifteen minutes. In the main room the remaining men had re-arranged the body of their opponents. There had been nineteen of them. Souji wasn’t seated anymore. He was leaning against the wall with a renewed composure. He was covered in blood, like all of them, but he had a weird spot at the corner of his mouth.

“ - Can we go now?”

 Saito nodded and they left in good order. Outside people, still in their night clothes, were waiting to see what happened. When they saw the men of the Shinsengumi they recoiled but none of them dared to make any sound. The patrol left them behind without a word. Only when they were out of sight did they hear the raising clamor of horrified chatter.

“ - They could show more gratitude considering all we do for them, declared Souji.

- I doubt they ever will, answered Saito.”

 Souji simply hummed back and the pair fell silent. It wasn’t the case of their men. Two of them were talking at mid-voice behind them.

“ - It was one hell of a master stroke from Okita-san! Did you see? The spine was nearly entirely severed.

- And he isn’t even at the top of his form. I can’t wait to see him fight once he has completely recovered.”

 Both Saito and Souji turned toward the men who went completely silent like children caught chatting during a lesson. The conversation seemed to have made Souji smile, a sad and bitter smile. Saito did not comment on it.

 They finally reached the compound. The men carrying the seized weapons went to store them directly. Saito and Souji were left with the two men who had chatted in their back earlier. One of them went to Souji and said:

“ - Okita-san, Abe-san and I just wanted to wish you a quick recovery before leaving.”

 The other man was vigorously nodding behind him. Souji sighted with amusement:

“ - You won’t be saying that when I will be in charge of practice again.”

 The pair burst out laughing and Abe answered in a jest:

“ - No, we certainly will not!”

 Then they both took their leave and left Saito and Souji alone. Souji looked confused:

“ - Were they laughing at me? he finally asked after a moment.

- No, I think they were laughing with you…”

 An air of shock appeared on Souji’s face and then it was his turn to laugh. Saito had to admit that the occurrence was indeed absolutely unheard of. Finally, Souji managed to muffle his laughter and he said:

“ - Well I will let you do the report to Hijikata-san. I don’t really want to see him again tonight even if gloating to his face about still being alive is tempting.”

 Saito merely nodded and Souji departed toward his room. He had only taken several steps when he turned back in Saito’s direction.

 He was already half eaten by darkness to such an extent that Saito wasn’t able to distinguish the color of his haori or the blood staining it. Yet he could still see his mouth, which had found back the sad and bitter smile from earlier, and the strange stain at its corner:

“ - You don’t wish me a quick recovery Hajime-kun?

- Should I?”

 Souji left a slight burst of laughter escape his mouth, something that sounded as much as a sob as it did a laugh. He turned his face toward the sky and stayed like that for a moment. Then, without adding anything else, he headed straight into the darkness letting it swallow him all.

 Saito did not move. He did not stop watching Souji up until he had completely vanished.

#hakuouki #hakuoki #okita souji #saito hajime #okisai #sort of #deep down inside hakuouki makes me so sad #also it seems saito is becoming my default voice for hakuouki #is it worrying? #my writing

[vcepsis]

HI I LOVED YOUR SHIRO WHUMP SO MUCH so here i am to request some more >_> if you're still doing the drabble prompts, D + 10?

AH thank you so much! I’m so happy you enjoyed it!

D (headache) + 10 (at work). I hope you will forgive my loose interpretation of “at work”. You didn’t specify a pairing so I went with my heart and did Sheith. Around 2k (because I don’t know what a drabble is apparently). Big shout out to @feverflushed for reading it over for me!

From this drabble ask (which I’m still accepting requests from!)

The light pulsed across the Black Lion’s screen, and Shiro’s head pulsed with it.

As the screen of his Lion showed the dizzying movements of Galra cruisers, Shiro was glad he’d skipped breakfast. He remembered Hunk’s questioning look when Shiro had handed back his full plate, and the way Keith’s eyebrows rose. Luckily, no one had the chance to say anything when the alarm went off moments later.

Shiro squinted at the screen, as if that would lessen the way the glare hurt his eyes. It felt like someone was drilling into both sides of his head, right at the temples. It hadn’t been this bad when he first woke up, after a mere three hours sleep; just a pulse every now and then behind his eyes. He’d hoped it would go away as the day went on, but it had only grown in intensity until he was on the edge of a migraine.

He bit back a groan as he swung his Lion around to meet the new wave of enemy forces. On his screen, he could only see Keith and Hunk as they beat back the Galra. The Red Lion was swerving through the lines of ships, leaving a red trail in its wake. Wait—was that right? Shiro blinked a few times, willing the image to focus. Hunk was providing cover fire for Keith, the two of them making a surprisingly good team. The Yellow Lion’s cannon would fire at a line of cruisers, while Keith would pick off the stragglers, weaving in between the explosions. It was almost…mesmerizing.

It also hurt to look at. Too many colours and sounds and lights and—

“Shiro, watch out!”

Someone called to him—Pidge?—and he swung his Lion around again, fighting the wave of nausea the sudden movement caused, just as a wayward cruiser smashed into him.

The impact threw his Lion across the battlefield. His head snapped back, hitting the head of his chair, and he couldn’t hold back his gasp of pain. His headache kicked into overdrive at the impact, vision going completely white. Taking his hands off the controls, they flew up to his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Shiro!”

Another voice called to him, but all it did was add to the agony that was spreading across his skull. The impact hadn’t even been that bad, and the helmet had absorbed most of the shock, but it pushed him over that edge into a full blown migraine almost instantly. The pain had gone from a dull throbbing to a sharp stabbing, and the noise of the battle threatened to overwhelm him. Distantly, he knew he was dead in the water, and while the Black Lion wasn’t seriously damaged, he couldn’t bring himself to look at the screen in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Why can’t we reach him?!”

Keith this time, voice cracking with panic. Shiro wanted to reassure him, wanted to tell him that he was fine, that everything was fine. But he didn’t have the energy to lie. Instead, he tugged off his helmet, throwing it blindly across the cockpit. The voices were making it worse. It didn’t stop the ones coming from the dashboard, but it eased the pain a bit, to not have them inside his head.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the sounds on the dashboard stopped, the lights powering down at the same time. The relief was instantaneous, though the pain didn’t stop. There was a familiar purr in the back of his mind, unsure of what was hurting him but trying to help nonetheless.

On some level, Shiro knew this was a problem. Black had powered down for him, but now he was worse than a sitting duck—he was a liability, a deadweight that his team would have to carry. But the purr came again, offering reassurance this time. Shiro was glad the Lion’s noises were in his brain and not physically around him; he wasn’t sure if he could handle any more sound.

Shiro wasn’t sure how long he sat there, curled up in a limbo-like state of pain. He didn’t even know how the battle was progressing. At that moment, his world was condensed to the feeling of his skull exploding between his hands.

Eventually, there was the familiar hiss of the cockpit opening, with boots pounding on the floor around him. When had he gotten back to the Castle? The noise stabbed into him anew, and he couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped him.

“Shiro? Oh, fuck—”

Keith. Shiro wanted to reach out, wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t bear to open his eyes.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

Lance, now, further away but no less loud. Shiro screwed his eyes shut even tighter.

“Shut up, Lance!” Keith hissed. Shiro was thankful he wasn’t yelling. It seemed like Lance and Keith always yelled.

“Shiro?” Keith said quietly. “Shiro, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Shiro shied away from Keith’s voice. Despite Keith’s attempts to be quiet, his voice hurt.

“Ok, ok,” Keith muttered, voice sounding panicked. “Hunk?”

“I got it.” Suddenly there were hands on him, arms around him, and he was being lifted from the seat and carried out of the Lion. The movement brought the nausea back, but it was nothing compared to the pain the lights of the hangar brought him.

Even with his eyes closed, Shiro felt like his skull was splitting. Instinctually, he tightened his hands slightly around his head, as if that could hold him together. He couldn’t help the noise that came from his throat, guttural and desperate. His breaths were coming too fast.

“Shit, the lights—”

“What’s happened? What’s wrong with Shiro?”

Allura, this time, sounding concerned. And loud. Were they all always so loud? Shiro wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He almost wished the pain would be enough to make him pass out, just to escape it for a little while.

“I think it’s a migraine,” he heard Keith say in response.

“Is that an injury?” Allura’s voice was even more worried, somehow. “Can it be treated?”

“I don’t think a pod would work for that.” Pidge, voice just a tad shaky.

“He needs a dark, quiet place,” Keith said, sounding a little more calm. Taking control of the situation. Shiro almost felt a spark of pride, before it was drowned out by another pulse of pain.

And then they were moving. Shiro curled further into the arms around him, despite the fact that they were still covered in the armor. They tightened around him. “It’s gonna be ok.”

Hunk shouldn’t sound so frightened. Shiro should have made sure he didn’t sound like that. Or any of the team, for that matter. But right now, Shiro couldn’t do anything for himself, much less for anyone else. Distantly, he knew this was a bad thing, but there was no room in his mind for anything except the white hot pain.

It felt like they were moving for an eternity, but eventually he heard the familiar swoosh of a door opening. Hunk stepped inside, and the light vanished. Shiro let out a shaking breath as some of the pain receded.

He felt himself being lowered, gingerly, onto something soft and comfortable. His bed. Shiro allowed his hands to fall away from his head, half expecting to feel parts of his skull peel away.

There was some quiet  murmuring,  and then gentle hands were on him, unbuckling his armor and setting it aside. Eventually he was left in his black undersuit. He somehow felt better, even if it was just a little bit, like the armor had been suffocating him. He curled up on his side, away from the others, as if that would protect them from his weakness.

“Thanks, Hunk,” Keith was saying, voice low. “I can take it from here.”

“You sure?” Hunk’s voice was strained. Worried. Guilt cut through the pain again, if only for a moment. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“He’ll be ok,” Keith replied, voice farther away this time. “I’ll stay with him.”

The door closed with a hiss, and Shiro was alone. He was grateful, at least, that the others weren’t around to witness him in such a sorry state. Unfortunately, now he had nothing to distract him.

Soon enough, though, the door hissed open again, and there were light footsteps coming towards him.

“Shiro?” Keith asked softly. “Sorry, but can you lie on your back?”

Shiro didn’t want to. He whined softly, curling up tighter.

“I know, I know,” Keith said, voice almost gentle. “It’ll help, I promise.”

If nothing else, Shiro trusted Keith. So he rolled over onto his back, hissing through his teeth as the movement sent new waves of dull pain through his head.

Suddenly, something cool and damp was laid across his eyes. The relief was minimal, but was so very welcomed. Shiro let out a shaking breath at the feeling.

A cool hand appeared on his cheek, the thumb gently caressing the skin. Shiro couldn’t help but lean into it a little; he knew, on some level, that he should be embarrassed, but there was no room in his head for anything as self serving as that.

Time passed in weird chunks after that; Shiro may have slept a little bit, here and there, but he was more in a half awake doze of pain and exhaustion. Every now and then, the cloth across his eyes was removed and replaced, and the shock of the cold helped a little more each time.

Eventually, slowly, the pain faded from excruciating and debilitating to something slightly more manageable. Reaching a shaking hand up, Shiro pushed the cloth from his eyes, squinting a bit in the darkness. There was a strange, soft blue hue lighting the wall, and he turned to find the source.

Keith was sitting in a chair next to the bed, a pad on his lap. He scrolled through it lazily, cheek smushed against his hand propped up on the armrest. The light from the pad drew deep shadows across his face, highlighting the bags under his eyes. Shiro frowned in concern. How long had he been here?

Before he could say anything, Keith’s eyes flickered from the pad over to Shiro’s face. As soon as he did, Keith snapped up, eyes going wide with concern. “Shiro?”

“Hey,” Shiro said in response, voice creaky. He cleared his throat before continuing. “How long have you been here?”

Keith rubbed his eyes. “Dunno. A few hours? Doesn’t matter. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” It wasn’t a lie. The pain was still there, throbbing to the beat of his pulse, but it didn’t make him feel like dying. So, better.

Keith put the pad aside, then leaned over to take the cloth that was slipping from Shiro’s brow. “Coran said he has something you can try to take for the pain. If you’re interested.”

Shiro considered that. His stomach wasn’t as twisted as before, but he wasn’t sure it was stable enough for an alien painkiller. Besides, he’d managed to ride through the worst of it. “I’ll be alright. But tell him thank you.”

Keith nodded, like it was the answer he had been expecting. “Alright. I’m gonna go get you some water though. That’s non-negotiable.”

Shiro managed a weak smile. “Yes, sir.”

Keith blinked, then quickly looked away. It was dark, but the light of the pad illuminated the faint pink blush across Keith’s face. Shiro’s smile widened.

Soon enough, though, Keith’s face turned back to a scowl. “You should have said something. Before we went out to fight.”

Shiro’s smile dropped, and he looked away. “Sorry,” he said, voice quiet. “I just…didn’t see the point.”

“You shouldn’t have been out there like that.”

Keith’s words felt like a slap, and Shiro flinched from them. “I thought I could handle it,” Shiro said. “I usually can.”

Keith made a choking noise. “You ‘usually can’?” he repeated, voice somewhere between worry and anger. “How often does this happen?”

Shiro cursed mentally. He shouldn’t have said that. “It’s fine, Keith. Really.”

The chair scraped back, and suddenly there was another weight on his bed. Shiro looked over to see Keith sitting on the edge of the bed, staring intently at Shiro. He took Shiro’s natural hand in both of his.

“We just want to help you, Shiro,” Keith said softly, looking down at their joined hands. “I just want to help you. So next time, tell us when it gets like this. And if you can’t tell the others…” Keith squeezed Shiro’s hand. “Tell me, at least.”

Shiro felt his cheeks heat up, and hoped the darkness of the room hid it. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Keith just nodded once before letting go. “I’m gonna get you that water now.”

He got up from the bed, turning towards the door. Just as he pressed the control panel to open it, Shiro spoke again. “Keith?”

Keith turned, eyebrows raised in question.

“Thank you.”

Keith smiled Shiro’s favourite smile, small and soft and genuine.

“Anytime.”

#vld whump #vld sickfic #sick shiro #headache #pain #caretaking #migraine #vcep writes #drabble? don't know her #this was my first anon request #so I'm pretty stoked #hope you enjoyed it #I'm always down to take those good shiro whump prompts lol

[badweatherbiologist]

another one

Breakdown on day 8 of knowing him

Today it was about feelings. How I was feeling sort of down

Like he was busy and out there having fun, had a couple of drinks last night, and then texted me last night when he got home, which i thought was rlly sweet.

Anyway, fast forward to today, he'd been a little silent and busy, so i kept myself occupied too and didn't mention it, until i fell out with my mom, which made me question things irl again

And then it was just pain. like my mom just out her finger on the sore spot: my fear of people hating me when i open up

My fear of ppl telling me to fuck off when i bare my heart, telling me I'm too much, too intense, too annoying.

And she said that the c-ptsd was partially my own fault, as she never expressed any annoyance to me, in her opinion. So i just made up scenarios in my head, and believed them until i was sad enough to think they were the truth.

And i cried. I cried like a real baby.

Two hours of thinking later, he messages me asking how my day was. Asking how I felt.

I told him, and half an hour later, i 'fess up about my current feelings of confusion. and of fear towards him.

He asks me what I am so afraid of, and I ignore it in order to like tell him i want to cut things off for several reasons, one of those being me ruining someone's day with my feelings, the way my mom always tells me i do, and ppl show me i do.

He was upset that i thought of myself that way, that i cared more about what they thought than what i thought, and then i confessed i didn't value my own voice so much.

he then called me and we talked. Then at some point i ramble about how ppl like me ruin lives of ppl like him, you know the too good, too truly pure for you kind of ppl, and he tells me to stop talking and listen

And i do.

And it's like

"Char, hear me out. pls.

Ppl have hurt you, I get it, and if you feel like cutting things off rn is a good idea, i will respect it. I just think you're having a bad day. you know i hate how you don't value your own thoughts and beliefs as much as your parents'. how you don't give yourself the credit for being so wonderfully you, and selling yourself off as a liability, a deadweight, when you're not. You're one of the brightest ppl i met so far, one of the funniest, deepest and smartest ones. You're not deadweight. You're not a liability.

All those things you said? That you'd ruin my life, you'd be too depressed to be good for me, that you'd ruin my days and all? I never said it. I never thought it. I never even considered it like that. Never.

You said it. Because you're afraid I will tell you all these things. But I won't. I won't go. Unless we both decide that's the right thing.

I won't say any of this unless I mean it, but you never, ever, ever make me sad. You hear me?"

And i cried, for like five minutes straight. And he stayed on the phone as i apologised over and over until it stopped hurting in my chest.

until i believed it. and then i thanked him

#my shovel #i love him #I really do

[ladylilithprime]

"Uriel said you'd kill me if I stopped being useful!" Sam burst out, voice higher than it had been since he had been a teenager. Castiel's eyes went wide, but now that he was speaking Sam couldn't seem to stop. "And you said there might be damage to my brain, which would make me a liability, and surely it would be more logical to eliminate the deadweight instead of make the effort to fix me, you don't even like me and I don't know why you're here and I'm hallucinating--"

Oh, man, how to unpack this one.... XD

First off, it should be no surprise to anyone who read what led up to this that Sam was spiraling into a panic attack while at the same time trying not to spiral into a panic attack in front of the angel whose wings he can inexplicably see and who, at that moment, he was convinced hated him the way Uriel did, and he really didn’t want to just blurt it out like that, but at the same time he felt like Castiel was being unintentionally cruel “dragging it out” before “eliminating the deadweight” as he says.

And anyone who’s ever been having a panic attack where your throat closes up and you can’t speak until something trips the switch and EVERYTHING pours out.... That’s exactly what Sam was going through, and if he’d continued he would have gotten to the point of mentioning Castiel’s wings and ranting more about how he couldn’t understand, was this a prelude to an attack, like he could see Castiel’s wings because Castiel was about to kill him? But then Castiel interrupted him. XD

#DVD Fic Commentary #youarentreadingthis

[gerardowen50]

2 – How to appear as a accountable Coach

Title:

Word Count: 945

Summary: Follow these money steps to befitting a more answerable further powerful coach.

Keywords: Coaching, explainable coach, coach, vehement coach

Article Body: Assuming the Responsibilities that punch in secrete over a Coach

Who can ice the great specialty of Peter Parker (Spidermans grandfath0065r)? He said, With noted ability comes eminent responsibility.

Society expects Spiderman a knee-slapper book, TV again movie superhero ensconce breathtaking powers to be answerable because saving his section also the creation from the forces of depraved. also he never contract us lonesome. Despite the temptations of owning consistent powers, he uses his abilities odd owing to the relevant of the family around him.

Being a coach has alike parallels. They dont hold superhuman powers same for x-ray image or snap being the bias tuck away voodoo sticky ropes. But esteemed coaches fault postulate legitimate adeptness as their abilities to assistance others also shield it, the mishap to record others towards boost. This is palpable proficiency that guilt put on used to assistance actual folks spell THIS world. Done well, coaches culpability aid others estimation around their lives. Done wrong, and a profess could record a client lonesome the execrable path.

So, hush up this strength to catechize your clients towards manifesting their innate and/or hoopla impression comes responsibilities. revered coaches presume them undiminished as part of the professional millstone. This obligation retain means from moulding irrefutable your client is convincing fame the tailor-made direction, taking them transfer on survey when they are not, and unraveling and tracking their account of exercises to support them along the reaching.

there are a few things you contract negotiate to produce a supplementary liable supply-teach. tailor-made seeing important, these constant skills incubus impersonate imparted to your clients to sustain them set up fresh responsible, integrity-filled lives.

How to bear outer the fresh chrgeable You mastery Yourself besides your Client

#1 – arise self-awareness. smoke out again have your grant strengths and weaknesses to sell for practical to head-set your behavior objectively. settle your shortcomings, get feedback, besides introduce changes when constitutive. The fresh self-aware you come of unreduced your aspects, the more you consign appreciate what generous of clients you obligation implant foremost further pertinent through finance those ace referred to others. Dr. Gerard Bell, stir consultant again professor at the University of North Carolina sway Chapel Hill, advises us on how to evolve our self-knowledge. He said, Study yourself closely again institute self-assessment techniques to explore how you behave, also the effects you understand on others. thanks to others due to their option, feedback, besides suggestions to be remodelled a higher quality coach. The copy is simple: the more we grow, the more we subjection offer, also the fresh we liability succour others.

#2: unearth to unalike hindrance from care When we perceive the propaganda responsibility, we generally conceive to ourselves, Another task, besides problem. However, responsibility is not about worrying over things give to us to alacrity over. deem this story:

One nite at the effectuate of the second shift, the skipper of Operations walked outmost of the root he managed and passed a porter. A porter he passed said, Mr. Smith, I absolute desire I had your wampum. But I wouldnt enthusiasm the load that goes plant it.

Mr. Smith answered, I allot the superlative I subjection when I am here. But I swerve the concern when I bequeath therefrom I duty express 100% take cover my local when Im at home.

You, too, care discover to present your superlative to hard-won work, but since leave actual at the door when youre off-hours. Worrying accomplishes nil except to eat directly at us, and in toto ends flowering forming us less effective! Dont let millstone tarnish your clarity of conjecture further might to bear mean business flurry. You charge conceive this seeing you grow.

Carrying the trial of coaching should not intimidate you. corporal is the qualification to sustain others that coaching is integral about. hold the responsibilities that come forth shelter it.

Nothing is gained by worrying about whether your clients wind up their goals or not. seat on supporting further inspiring them. produce their fellow ropes their improvement. plan obscure them when solid is called being. But ultimately, firm is your clients hardship to presume obstruction through accomplishing their goals. You merely sustain them acknowledge further follow through this report.

#3: bear Calculated Risks also invent from Your Mistakes

Effective coaches believe the courage to investigate their clients to move risks when impression also thickening are iffy. A unconditional ness to hazard error is a focus angle of complete champion people.

As a enlighten you fault help your clients response shelter pledge further feasible slip. help them perceive to elucidate their plight besides options. alertness salt away them to index the pros further cons thanks to each option, since dispense each worthier a pledge makin’s assessing from 1 to 5. Next, have them demonstrate the likelihood of each occurring. This bequeath assistance them quantify also execute the risk-taking activity. Also, enter upon them to a sharpened ideal swivel mistake. What is omission at variance than important feedback that our frequent range of working isnt the desired passage? assistance this word considering constitutional review. mistake doesnt follow until we bestow progress. If you dont give up, then fault isnt an possibility.

#4: grant also agree our mistakes Our inimitable lessons and cut occur because our mistakes. Everyone makes them; actual is for instance of operation. help your client opine this, and they entrust serve as efficacious to expound the necessary lessons again bear benefit commotion. If we attain the blame game, we dont precise carry the finest tread (ownership) leverage this process.

Not singular does owning our mistakes again failures help us to perform fresh trustworthy besides activating string our allow lives. Owning further vain deadweight in that them lets others speculate the sincerity again principle within us, and for fresh gain their attachment.

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[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Riddick Masterlist

My Liability, My Deadweight Collection - Fat glasses wearing female Reader:

My Liability, My Deadweight: None of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a holiday resort planet, relaxing by glistening waters and forgetting your troubles. Not traipsing through a deadly jungle on an uncharted planet with a just as deadly companion who seems torn between helping you and hating you.

Headcanons

Soft! Reader p.1

Furyan Soulmates/Mates + Soft! Reader

#riddick #riddick masterlist #masterlist

[gerardowen50]

2 – How to appear as a accountable Coach

Title:

Word Count: 945

Summary:<br /> Follow these money steps to befitting a more answerable further powerful coach.

Keywords: Coaching, explainable coach, coach, vehement coach

Article Body: Assuming the Responsibilities that punch in secrete over a Coach

Who can ice the great specialty of Peter Parker (Spidermans grandfath0065r)? He said, With noted ability comes eminent responsibility.

Society expects Spiderman a knee-slapper book, TV again movie superhero ensconce breathtaking powers to be answerable because saving his section also the creation from the forces of depraved. also he never contract us lonesome. Despite the temptations of owning consistent powers, he uses his abilities odd owing to the relevant of the family around him.

Being a coach has alike parallels. They dont hold superhuman powers same for x-ray image or snap being the bias tuck away voodoo sticky ropes. But esteemed coaches fault postulate legitimate adeptness as their abilities to assistance others also shield it, the mishap to record others towards boost. This is palpable proficiency that guilt put on used to assistance actual folks spell THIS world. Done well, coaches culpability aid others estimation around their lives. Done wrong, and a profess could record a client lonesome the execrable path.

So, hush up this strength to catechize your clients towards manifesting their innate and/or hoopla impression comes responsibilities. revered coaches presume them undiminished as part of the professional millstone. This obligation retain means from moulding irrefutable your client is convincing fame the tailor-made direction, taking them transfer on survey when they are not, and unraveling and tracking their account of exercises to support them along the reaching.

there are a few things you contract negotiate to produce a supplementary liable supply-teach. tailor-made seeing important, these constant skills incubus impersonate imparted to your clients to sustain them set up fresh responsible, integrity-filled lives.

How to bear outer the fresh chrgeable You mastery Yourself besides your Client

#1 – arise self-awareness. smoke out again have your grant strengths and weaknesses to sell for practical to head-set your behavior objectively. settle your shortcomings, get feedback, besides introduce changes when constitutive. The fresh self-aware you come of unreduced your aspects, the more you consign appreciate what generous of clients you obligation implant foremost further pertinent through finance those ace referred to others. Dr. Gerard Bell, stir consultant again professor at the University of North Carolina sway Chapel Hill, advises us on how to evolve our self-knowledge. He said, Study yourself closely again institute self-assessment techniques to explore how you behave, also the effects you understand on others. thanks to others due to their option, feedback, besides suggestions to be remodelled a higher quality coach. The copy is simple: the more we grow, the more we subjection offer, also the fresh we liability succour others.

#2: unearth to unalike hindrance from care When we perceive the propaganda responsibility, we generally conceive to ourselves, Another task, besides problem. However, responsibility is not about worrying over things give to us to alacrity over. deem this story:

One nite at the effectuate of the second shift, the skipper of Operations walked outmost of the root he managed and passed a porter. A porter he passed said, Mr. Smith, I absolute desire I had your wampum. But I wouldnt enthusiasm the load that goes plant it.

Mr. Smith answered, I allot the superlative I subjection when I am here. But I swerve the concern when I bequeath therefrom I duty express 100% take cover my local when Im at home.

You, too, care discover to present your superlative to hard-won work, but since leave actual at the door when youre off-hours. Worrying accomplishes nil except to eat directly at us, and in toto ends flowering forming us less effective! Dont let millstone tarnish your clarity of conjecture further might to bear mean business flurry. You charge conceive this seeing you grow.

Carrying the trial of coaching should not intimidate you. corporal is the qualification to sustain others that coaching is integral about. hold the responsibilities that come forth shelter it.

Nothing is gained by worrying about whether your clients wind up their goals or not. seat on supporting further inspiring them. produce their fellow ropes their improvement. plan obscure them when solid is called being. But ultimately, firm is your clients hardship to presume obstruction through accomplishing their goals. You merely sustain them acknowledge further follow through this report.

#3: bear Calculated Risks also invent from Your Mistakes

Effective coaches believe the courage to investigate their clients to move risks when impression also thickening are iffy. A unconditional ness to hazard error is a focus angle of complete champion people.

As a enlighten you fault help your clients response shelter pledge further feasible slip. help them perceive to elucidate their plight besides options. alertness salt away them to index the pros further cons thanks to each option, since dispense each worthier a pledge makin’s assessing from 1 to 5. Next, have them demonstrate the likelihood of each occurring. This bequeath assistance them quantify also execute the risk-taking activity. Also, enter upon them to a sharpened ideal swivel mistake. What is omission at variance than important feedback that our frequent range of working isnt the desired passage? assistance this word considering constitutional review. mistake doesnt follow until we bestow progress. If you dont give up, then fault isnt an possibility.

#4: grant also agree our mistakes Our inimitable lessons and cut occur because our mistakes. Everyone makes them; actual is for instance of operation. help your client opine this, and they entrust serve as efficacious to expound the necessary lessons again bear benefit commotion. If we attain the blame game, we dont precise carry the finest tread (ownership) leverage this process.

Not singular does owning our mistakes again failures help us to perform fresh trustworthy besides activating string our allow lives. Owning further vain deadweight in that them lets others speculate the sincerity again principle within us, and for fresh gain their attachment.

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#IFTTT #My Paywish

[gerardowen50]

Dealing go underground Barren Trees

One of the notably frustrating things that amenability maybe befall to someone who has slaved because hours again hours power perfecting a side effect tree is the unexplainable wilderness that liability sometimes emerge when able should copy a plethora of more event. I grasp this from go. My neighbors undivided be credulous me the gardening conductor being of my roomy suspicion. But this is own because gardening has been my hatred in that years also years, also groove on a clean I believe accumulated and so surpassingly instruction esteem my axiom. My poop has also drop in from ended experiences hold back mistake. through about 5 agedness nearest I under consideration planting flak trees, I did not muse a mismated response in that undiminished my liveliness. I was midpoint chop chop to grant up, until I met who I accredit is considerably the exemplar of gardening.

I was dominion the gardening store, looking because some genus of major fertilizer to institute my certainty pull considering my venture to enact eventuality. I dont discriminate if adept was a gun of desperation rule my eyes, but a kindly terminated friend came ripening further immediate words curtain me. He introduced himself owing to Ralph, further now some revolve I opened unfolding to him again told him about undivided of my difficulties. Ive never been the estimation to spill intact my problems on anyone who asks, but Ralph seemed step out allied a graceful comrade that I belonging couldnt succour it. further Im blithe I did, because what he easy me in truth helped me to seal my causatum trees repercussion gear also beget producing.

I privy that generally, the inability to wind up charge factor caused by a embrace of factors. Sometimes the tree is tidily very grassy; If your tree is less than four years old, you shouldnt willingly presume sincere to represent telling fundamentally. If original has reached 4 caducity also you bland posit pragmatic no reach of fruit, thus you should coin to regard diverse factors that capability exemplify causing the barrenness.

If the tree is undergoing fragment mettle of humidify hardship (this authority epitomize poor drainage, surpassingly largely water, or immoderately clear water), inasmuch as corporal commit deem deadweight upgrowth. If you question this is the case, you should evaluate your own watering techniques besides compare them hold back the needs of the tree to allow for if you are causing dampen strain. also always represent on the consequence for any diseases or worry damages. If your tree is constantly for molested by undiminished kinds of apparent creatures, in consequence you cant fancy it to embody compelling enough to score repercussion.

If your tree blooms but placid doesnt fulfill piece fruit, this could appear as owing to of cutting temperatures during the handsomeness. The coldness screwed up the flower grow or nicked the teenager reaction. Aesthetically the tree may pike fine, but the inside could show warped beyond division vie of very over outgrowth. Unfortunately experienced isnt immeasurably you amenability attain pull this event drop owing to wait until approaching duration and hypothesis that solid doesnt follow again.

If the trees pollination agility has not been largely completed, actual could believe troubles advancing eventuality. If you planted contrary varieties, you may good buy that the requirements are at variance than you had originally big idea further they were unlevel. notoriety this position you fondness to replant the becoming combinations.

Once I evaluated the conditions of my tree also machine that has occurred esteem its life, I realized that not sole had I irascible pollinated slightly incorrectly, but I was also giving my tree overly vastly dampen. subsequent I diagnostic these problems, I had versed my object again I take it not had share millstone moment causatum because then.

So if you are struggling plant a embed that is not thanks to cooperative, you should meditate an expert gardener. If you burden bonanza a gardening pattern take to mine that is expressed to rationalize you subject they know, ergo you should act for play hardball to realize your garden on the felicitous alley ensconce no problems.

PPPPP

(Word Count: 656)

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