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chloe-caulfield94 · 1 day

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Okay, now I want to read/write a fanfic of Resistance agent Chloe Price convincing/helping stormtrooper MX-1113 to defect from the First Order.

That's an awesome idea! Chloe, being a rebel at heart and a gifted mechanic, would certainly find a place for herself in the Resistance.

Your idea inspired me to write a short LiS/Star Wars AU fanfic of my own. Here it goes:

“Master Jef-Fer-Son? You summoned me” – said Max the Jedi Initiate, stepping into the master’s chamber at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. The automated door shut behind her. She bowed her head for a moment, just like all Initiates were taught to do when greeting their betters. She stood straight, waiting to be spoken to or offered to sit. Max was an eighteen year old, short Zabrak girl, with a freckled face and a circlet of brown horns crowning her head.

Master Jef-Fer-Son was a Human male in his early forties - quite young for a Master. He was considered handsome by the standards of his species. He was sitting in a meditation chair with his eyes closed. Max felt the faint current of the Force touching her. He saw her even with his eyes closed. And he tried to probe her feelings. After a while, he spoke: “Max, you know perfectly well why I summoned you. You passed the Initiate tests with ease. And while we do not grade Initiates on any formalized scale, I can say with utmost certainty that out of all twenty Initiates I was charged with preparing for the Trials, you show the most promise. By far. Imagine my disappointment when I learnt you asked to be sent to the Agricultural Corps. You should continue your learning as a Padawan, to become a Knight one day. I was hoping you would ask to become my Padawan. It would be my honour to further your knowledge. Instead, you chose to waste away in AgCorps”.

“Waste away? I thought the job of the Agricultural Corps was just as important as the job of any other member of the Order. That becoming a part of it was just as big of an honour and responsibility as becoming a Knight. I heard you say that more than once, Master”.

“That’s what we say to those who are less talented. But with Initiates like you, who actually show promise, I can be honest. Why are you turning back from the path laid out before you, Max?”

Max’s first thought was to say something snarky. To say that she could never become a Jedi Knight, because she was a pacifist. That would certainly be an accurate riposte against Master Jef-Fer-Son. He was one of those Jedi who on one hand kept insisting that members of the Order were peacekeepers, not soldiers, while on the other he had zero second thoughts about cutting sentient beings to pieces with his lightsabre, if ordered to do so by the Council. Just like Master Windu, Jef-Fer-Son believed that as long as violence was perpetrated in an impassionate manner, as long as a Knight derived no pleasure from the death and pain they inflicted, the Code was upheld and the Dark Side was kept at bay. Max decided against being snarky. She decided to tell the truth. Her master knew perfectly well why she made her choice. He was testing her resolve. Trying to see if she would stand by her decision. She most certainly would.

“Because I love her. Because I always wanted my life to be special. An adventure. But not without her. If I have to choose between travelling the stars without her and tending to the fields on one planet my entire life with her, the choice is obvious”.

Jef-Fer-Son opened his eyes. They were cold as always. Like two icy comets drifting through the dead void of space. So different from the eyes of the girl she chose to be with, which despite their blue colour were warm as two bright stars.

“That’s the real problem, Initiate. Not you refusing to accept the rank of Padawan. You are not the first promising Initiate who turned out to be a disappointment. You won’t be the last. But the why of it, your reason. That’s the problem. I warned you about forming attachments. Forming attachments leads to the Dark Side”.

“I love her. Will love lead me to the dark Side?”

“Don’t twist my words, Initiate. A Jedi is allowed to love. But not to form attachments”.

“There’s no such thing as love without attachment. Love IS the highest form of attachment. If you are ready to leave someone behind never to see them again, if you won’t do everything in your power to preserve their life, if you wouldn’t miss them if they were taken from you, then you don’t love them. Not all attachments are destructive. Love is the opposite of destructive. It grounds a person, centres them. Gives them purpose and meaning. Connects them to others. Just like the Force connects all living beings. Love can never lead to the Dark Side. Those who follow the Dark Side only care about their own aggrandizement. They are unable to care about others. A person who scoured their heart of love is much more likely to fall to the Dark Side than a person who loves someone else”.

“Your words go against the teachings of the Jedi. Do you claim to be wiser than the Masters who founded the Order?”

“Perhaps I know more about love than they did”.

“Your impudence fails to even be entertaining, Max”.

“Will that be all, Master?”

Jef-Fer-Son screamed: “No it won’t! You will stand there and listen! Until you are transferred to AgCorps or assigned as a Padawan to another Master, I am your Master! You will heed my teachings!” He paused for a while, realizing his self-righteous anger got the better of him. He continued, back to his usual voice, one of cold indifference: “My final lesson for you is this. You cannot refuse the fate you are presented with by the Force. When faced with your own destiny, the only thing to do is to submit. Submission to one’s fate brings greatness. Refusal to do so brings ruin. I had a vision of your future. You, lightsabre in hand, going from victory to victory on countless battlefields across the stars. Great power awaits you. But it inevitably comes at a cost. Don’t be naïve, Max. Are you really going to refuse greatness and glory? For what, a warm body in your bed?”

“Shut your mouth! Don’t ever talk about her like that!”

Jef-Fer-Son smiled and shook his head, believing Max’s outburst to prove his point about the dangers of forming attachments, his self-righteousness blinding him to the fact that he was the one spewing hateful bile. Max’s master continued his final lesson: “You know that in twenty years’ time you will regret your decision, right? When you grow bored of her, you’ll wish you had chosen your destiny, instead of … distractions. Who are you to refuse your destiny? The Force lays out the path before you. You only need to follow it. Submit to your fate, Max”.

“Nobody and nothing makes choices for me. I forge my own path. I pick my own destiny. I choose her”.

“What did she do to convince you to follow her to AgCorps? Did she start crying? Did she tell you if you don’t follow her, it would be a breach of some juvenile oath you made to her?”

“Despite all your wisdom, Master, you have a tendency to talk about things you know nothing about. And to assume much. No, she did nothing to convince me to follow her. On the contrary. She told me I should become a Padawan. She told me I shouldn’t give up on my dream of becoming a Jedi just for her. And I told her she was my dream now”.

“If even she told you to continue your training, why won’t you? Why won’t you honour her wish?”

“Because it’s not what she wants! She said it, because she is willing to sacrifice her happiness for me! But I would never accept such a sacrifice! Because deep down, she wants to be with me just as much as I want to be with her!”

“And how do you know what she wants deep inside? You used the Force to read her mind?”

“No. I love her. When you love someone, you can tell their feelings. You don’t have to violate their mind with the Force. You can simply tell. But what would you know about it?”

Jef-Fer-Son was silent for a while, having finally realized there was nothing he could say to change his best student’s mind. Even though he disdained her for refusing the call to become a great warrior, he at least had a modicum of respect for her strong will. He shared his final thoughts on the matter with Max: “It’s strange how certain events have unforeseen consequences. Two standard years ago, when I took all of you Initiates on a pilgrimage through the Outer Rim and our ship was boarded by the Prescott pirate clan, when I saw how you stopped a blaster bolt fired by one of the pirates mid-air, that’s when I knew the Force had prepared for you a great destiny. But now I wish you had failed to stop that bolt. Because it was aimed at her. Had that bolt struck true, you wouldn’t have become so distracted, so confused. And I would’ve discovered your greatness on some other occasion. You saved a life, supposedly a noble thing to do. But it shattered your destiny”.

Max listened to her Master’s ramblings. She wasn’t even angry anymore. If he tried to throw her off-balance, his failure was complete. This dogmatic man, strong in his ability to kill and destroy others, both in body and spirit, but pathetically weak in the things that genuinely mattered – love, friendship and empathy, had no power over her. His venom couldn’t make her doubt her choice.

When her Master was finally finished, Max bowed her head in respect. “Thank you for sharing your wisdom, Master. I’m honoured you took the time to give me a final lesson”.

Her feigned respect stung him much more than her previous stubborn resistance. He closed his eyes, going back to meditating. With a wave of his hand, he signalled she was free to leave.

Outside of the Master’s chamber, Max ran into her beloved. Chloe was a tall, blue-skinned Twi’Lek girl, a year older than Max. Chloe tried to say something, but Max immediately stood on her toes and kissed her girlfriend, shutting her up in the most pleasant way possible. Only after their lips parted and Chloe had a moment to collect her thoughts, she spoke: “Max! When I heard you were summoned, I ran here. I wanted to plead with you one final time. To convince you not to turn your back on the life you’ve always wanted”.

“The life I wanted. But I do not want it anymore. Now I want a different life. With you”.

“Will you really give up being a Jedi Knight for a loser like me?”

“Chloe, you could never be a loser”.

“I am a loser, Max. When we both got here, I was at the top of our Initiate group. I was the first to pick something up with the Force. I remember Master Jef-Fer-Son praising me, saying how promising I was. Turned out I just had a … Force growth spurt. The rest of you quickly caught up to me. And then you left me in the dust. Now I’m barely able to use the Force at all. And you, you have such an amazing power …”

Max placed her hands on Chloe’s cheeks and looked her deep in the eyes: “You are not a loser. You are the best pilot I’ve ever seen. Damn good shot too”.

“You’re a great pilot too, Max”.

“I’m not. The time I piloted that fighter? That wasn’t me. I just let the Force guide me. The Force is a shortcut. It allows one to do things they can’t do, not really. But if I ever lose my connection to it, I become useless. And your talent, it can never go away. It’s something you’ll always have. It’s yours. Because it has its source inside of you. Chloe, the Force is an outside power. To do something with it, you must submit to it. It uses you to the same degree you use it. I’m done submitting. I’m done being used. It’s time for me to choose my own destiny. You are my destiny. I choose you”.

“I don’t deserve a love like yours, Max”.

“Bantashit! Of course you do! You deserve my love just like I deserve yours!”

They hugged and remained in each other’s embraces for a longer while. When they let go, Chloe said: “Let’s enjoy our last days at the Temple, before we are sent to work the fields”.

“You know what, Chloe? I think a pair of hard-working, industrious young women, one a very talented pilot, could find gainful employment somewhere else. Maybe on a merchant ship? I’m certain they pay better than the AgCorps”.

“They don’t pay you in the AgCorps at all”.

“So even if we find work for one credit a day, we’ll still be ahead”.

Max and Chloe spent many years working on various merchant vessels traversing the Galaxy. They rarely looked out the viewports, though. They didn’t feel the need to admire the stars outside. All they had to do to see the most beautiful stars in all of creation was to look in each other’s eyes.

#max caulfield #chloe price #pricefield #life is strange #lis #crossover #crossover fanfiction #life is strange fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #mark jefferson

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asteriaas-stuffs · 1 year

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https://www.tumblr.com/asteriaas-stuffs/711879571447922688/i-want-to-ventand-it-includes-twsa-there-are-so

I'm this anon i thought u left Tumblr , happy to see u back. It took me so much to time to make this decision,i was contemplating myself if i want to share my life or not. I don't want to seem desperate. There'll be grammatical errors pls don't mind it :)

I have been trying to enter void since the end of Oct 2021, I've tried numerous method nothing seems to work for me. The main thing is I can't get a hold of my thoughts, whenever i try my mind wanders to everything that i suffered from childhood,my dad used to drink alcohol,he have anger issues,my parents fought most of the time bcoz of he being a drunkard, everytime they fight i sits like that don't affect me but deep down it does i agree that they had done so much to me, If i ever tell them to buy me something they'll gladly do that but i was scared to even ask them for something small,they used to beat me and scold me if i score less so being scared i studied hard without sleep to top class but i never succeeded i did got good grades but never been first. The funniest thing is i don't even remember any happy memories from my childhood everything i remember is my pathetic cries and my parents screaming each other. Sometimes I'm jealous of my younger brother he still don't know that my parents were toxic, whenever they fought my relatives used to keep him away from them bcos he was a child no one gave 2 f*cls about my emotions and as i grew up i also decided to keep him away from their fight bcoz i don't want him to suffer from the trauma as I'm suffering now.

I'm happy that my dad changed for good,he don't drink anymore but still my parents have no idea what i had gone or I'm going through bcoz of them. I want to have a convo with them regarding this but whenever i try to talk i ends crying. Pathetic i know.

I'm soon to be 21,and all these years people including my whole family have insulted me bcoz of my skin colour,my acne,my bodyfat(I'm 54kg) , how big my face is. They never missed a chance in pointing out my insecurities, even yesterday i attended a function and everyone was like "god you're getting worse by each passing day" only one of my cousin complimented me bcoz of my outfit. Everyone wants me to get married,the marriage pressure is too much here, I'm confused about my future after completing 12th my parents forced me to study CA,and I've been failing the exam continuously. I don't have a proper degree.

And when i was 12 my close cousin brother (my aunt's son) groped me and touched my private area not just touch i don't know how to completely elaborate it here,my hands are shaking literally ,he did that while i was sleeping,i never got enough courage to share it with anyone even my own parents. And after 5 years he msged me saying he's sorry for doing that and said he loved me,he don't even know what I'm going bcoz of his sick antics, he's a sick ass mf. After his msg i blocked him saying i don't have any interest in someone like him who's nearly a r*pist. And later on he got married to a girl who looks somewhat similar to me just to quench his thirst. I hate him to core.

Even though my parents have gave me a lot of trauma,i still don't hate them idk why,i want to give them a better life,a better house. I want them to be proud of me,i want to show people what i really am,i want to have a career,a better body. and moreover i want to move on from my past life and to forget about what my cousin did to me that's literally a nightmare for me.!!

So whenever i try to enter void these are the thoughts that goes on my mind and I'm scared everytime that what if i fail in entering. Idk what to do anymore with life.

Okay I'm crying not because i pity you or anything cause I don't pity you . I have gone to same. And ig there was someone out there having the same issues. Know that you're not alone . I'm telling you compare your problems with other but you're not alone babe . I freaking wanna hug you . I love so so much. I'm so freaking proud of you really cause you're so brave for growing through this shits and your emotions are valid . You matter to me . You matter to yourself. Although these small words won't be enough but reading all these paragraph made me cry and I'm not even lying. You have really gone through alot . I'm so proud of you surviving through these . So , now my piece of advice think me as older sister in your house that where you grew up like this but i managed to moved out and now I'm telling/forcing you , it's your turn babe . Don't you dare to look back . Ik it might be selfish but don't you dare to look at your brother and your family . First save yourself, then save others .

You don't need method to enter void . Let's stop assuming that . Ik it's hard cause you have gone through a lot . Try to stay as quiet as possible in the house . They tell you do this then do and smile force it . It's a way to trigger them .

Ik how family problems crushes you . Your feeling are valid but do you really need those bastards (sorry ) affection ??? They never paid attention to you . You're their daughter . You should be their priority. They should care about you not you should be doing the opposite . Just them giving food water education shelter doesn't mean that they get every right to abuse you physically and mentally. You still want them to be happy give a good life even thinking about them you're so freaking good daughter. You don't need their validation to prove all the other who knows your story knows how much good daughter, sister you're. And tbh it's no point telling them what you think cause think me as a older sister i tried but it never worked it didn't and it wouldn't. They don't care babe they don't . Rather than needing their validation i hope you can start getting your validation cause you deserve all the love and attention . And I'm praying that you will heal you definitely will . Get a therapy if possible a good one .

After 12th see if you had raised your voice you wouldn't be stuck . We do what they want to be good but tbh we end up stuck . And if you think you're late then you're not. You're only 21 there's a whole life ahead of you . Get a job ik it's hard if you live in South Asia. Start as anything i mean anything legal jobs cause you have your 12th certificate .Drop out for a year . Take break and work . After collect money start small business like candle, baking anything that you think will have potential. Ik it might be thinking oh it's easy to say for her cause either way she's living the way she wants but no been through that and I'm sharing as a older sister who moved out . And start working on self concept ( can you dm me on Instagram) . Then we will talk it privately .

I'm so sorry that you experienced SA in small age . I'm so sorry that you have gone through a lot . I'm praying that you will recover no matter what . Know your feelings are valid and you ain't pathetic and ik you cried while writing this so I'm so freaking proud of you . I love you so so much . You're enough my love .

#vent post #TW

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curran74waters · 2 years

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radiosandrecordings · 3 years

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I am feeling... Strangely vindicated, by what Martin said this episode about how their whole relationship is just kind of built on a trauma bond. I think it’s always bugged me when people describe them as soulmates, because so much of jmart to me is that they’re not. As much as they love each other, that love is a choice. They don’t always click, they get on each other’s nerves and argue and don’t get each other’s jokes but they still love each other. Yes it’s as a product of their circumstances, but that love doesn’t make it any less real.

(Under the cut because oh lordy this one got long apparently)

I think to summarise my own feelings on it, I am legitimately going to have to quote a fanfiction here. One of the first TMA fics I read when it was still updating was Weaver, a superhero style Web!Martin au that I still recommend because it’s wonderful, if a little outdated plot and characterisation wise because it was posting two years ago. But a line that always stuck with me was (spoilers) in the chapter in which Spider-Martin gets de-masked and Jon finds out who he is (It’s also the love confession chapter. For obvious reasons.)

“If it were a different world, one where the Weaver didn’t exist, maybe Jon would never have fallen for Martin. But that isn’t the world they’re in. They’re in this one, and in this one, Jon has fallen for Martin. There’s no doubt about that.”

And I did not like this at the time! Because I was a little more naïve about romance at the time and I really felt that that took away from it instead of adding to it. I thought that Jon’s admittance that in a different timeline he wouldn’t have loved Martin was a sign of weakness, that because they weren’t ‘perfect soulmates’ then it was... I don’t know how to phrase it better than in meme format: “I’m going to get a bad grade in relationship, something that is both possible to achieve and normal to fear”. That even if they were entirely happy together that this was a flaw and meant it wasn’t the 100% run Perfect Storybook Romance I thought I wanted to read. Obviously since then I’ve realised that’s all bullshit and this is actually a lovely line because it’s stating that he does love him, here and now. And this is what canon reiterates to us in 199:

MARTIN: But we wouldn’t have, would we? Been together I mean. [....] Face it, John, it took almost two years of crisis and trauma to even make us compatible. And that sucks. But here we are. And I don’t want it to be for nothing. I won’t let it.

And I just... Love that Martin is aware of that. He’s never been under any illusions about his relationship with Jon. Of course we don’t know if it’s actually true because we don’t know these timelines, we cannot get a solid answer (Unless 200 REALLY pulls it out of the bag and shows us. After all, Martin did say “Their own Martin” when listing things that the other universes probably had). Jon doesn’t seem to like this idea, being confused at first, then rejecting that he hated Martin, and then trying to divert the topic, so maybe they would work, or at least Jon is looking back retrospectively and seeing ways he could have changed to make it so he was more aware of his feelings, but hindsight is 2020 and rose coloured glasses y’know.

Plus, Martin himself admits in 186 that he knows most of the reason Jon hated him was projection of his fear:

MARTIN: Hey, to be fair, he still kind of hated me back then. I’m really not sure it would have been the time to take my shot. ALSO MARTIN: Fair. He was projecting hard. Between us, that guy’s got some real issues. MARTIN: Hey! Pretty sure we love ‘that guy’. ALSO MARTIN: Yeah, and all his many, many problems.

So Martin here is already showing his “I am aware Jon hated me” cards, but Martin’s inner self is also going “Yeah, but also, he did have a reason”, which is odd since it makes it seem like the internal Martin, who was generally much more open and blunt about harsh truths that episode, is the one actually defending Jon.

So with Jon’s rejection of the sentiment, I don’t think we can take it as a definitive truth that they wouldn’t work in another timeline. I think it might just implicate they wouldn’t work in the dynamic they had before. Martin is right in that I don’t think that would have worked out without the layers of trauma bringing them together. Jon seems to think, though possibly through flawed hindsight, that they could have. Personally I’m interpreting it as they could work if, as Jon said, “If we had just... met. Been together, without all of this.”, ‘this’ entailing the institute as well, meeting as peers somewhere else without all of the weight of That bearing down on Jon, affecting him even in a mundane capacity before becoming a supernatural one.

I’m glad it’s in there though. The way I had described Jonmartin before is that they’re not soulmates, by any capacity. But, if you want to assign them a romantic trope of that type, red string of fate might just work. Because they don’t match, not perfectly, but they always had each other, and really, there was no doubt that they wouldn’t end up together in some capacity. And I like that it gives a layer of self-awareness to Martin! I am so glad for every line and interaction that kicks back against early season characterisation, or fanon misinterpretation, that he’s naïve or just a love interest. It gives him this really lovely bit of depth that he, the one who was always painted more as the lovestruck one than Jon “What Are Feelings” Sims, is the one hyperaware of their status to each other than Jon, who seems to want to convince himself that they were always meant to be, whether that statement is true or not.

#My Post #The Magnus Archives #Jonmartin #Martin Blackwood #Jonathan Sims #The Magnus Archives Spoilers

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hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years

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Tales From Bingo Night

AFAB!Reader x Jeon Wonwoo

Word Count: 1917

Contents: handjob, outdoor sex, cum eating

[10:32]

It was quiet as the docks and canoe shed came into view through the dark. You weren’t sure what to say to Wonwoo. The act itself you were fine with but Wonwoo and you had fallen into a comfy friendship and this felt weird. Did he think it was weird too? He was usually pretty awkward when the topic of your sexual exploits came up. You didn’t think he’d want to be stuck doing this.

“You know, we don’t actually have to do this,” you started, not looking at him. Wonwoo didn’t respond so you continued. “Like it’s just a stupid thing on a scavenger hunt. And I can probably get Yanan to do it later anyway, we still have about an hour and a half. So if you don’t want to, I’m okay with that.”

“Are you okay with it?” He finally said.

“I- y-yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

You saw his shoulders shrug out of the corner of your eye. “You seem kinda stressed about it. It’s not something you have to do. You know that sentiment goes for you too, right?”

“I- Yeah I know,” you mumbled. “I mean it feels a little strange but I just didn’t expect us to end up in this situation at all this summer.”

Wonwoo slowed as you rounded the shed, looking at the woods between the shed and the edge of the lake. “Yeah I- that makes sense. But, I don’t know, it’s kind of weird but it’s alright. I mean unless you’re terrible at giving handjobs.”

You let out a little laugh, releasing some of your nervous energy. “Okay, hey, I’m good at them. You’ll be satisfied so no need to worry about that.”

“If not I’ll just tell the team you suck and Yanan and Yoohyeon will tell everyone else,” you could see his grin through the darkness.

“Alright, I take it you’re game then,” you snorted. “Do you know how you want to prove it?”

“Hongseok said be appropriate so he’s just going to have to take my word for it.”

“Good to know my reputation rests on a hand job in the woods.”

Wonwoo chuckled as he plopped down in the grass, resting back on his elbows. “You have been talking yourself up to me so…”

“Bragging really isn’t becoming,” you muttered as you kneeled next to him. Your fingers played with the hem of your shorts for a moment while you looked down at his body. “Are you alright if I just start? Do you want me to like, kiss you or something?”

Wonwoo seemed to think about his answer for a moment. “Either is okay. Do you wanna make out?”

“I- uh, maybe? I don’t know, I feel like I usually don’t think this hard about it.” You brought your hands to the waist of his shorts. Your fingers fumbled with the button and zipper.

“Having trouble?” He chuckled.

“Shut up, it’s dark,” you whined, though knowing there was a slight laugh in your voice. You started to shift his shorts down his hips.

“Do you always do it with the lights on?” He questioned.

“Are you going to ask annoying questions the whole time?” You shot back.

“Only if I’m bored,” he chuckled. You stuck your tongue out at him which drew a laugh from him. Your fingers curled around the hem of his boxers and you dropped your gaze down, away from his face, taking in the sight of his cock instead and trying to swallow back your awkward feelings. If anything his joking was keeping you calm. You started to wrap your hand around his cock.

“You’re not just going in dry, are you!?” He cried, a little too loud for your liking.

“Shhhh, shut up,” you hissed. “And… no, I wasn’t.” You pulled your hand away to spit on it.

“And you told me you were good at this,” he muttered.

“I am,” you said. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not convinced.”

You rolled your eyes before taking his cock into your hand again. Slick with your spit it slid easily. You pumped him in slow movements, listening and checking around you for anyone coming closer. The only sound around you was the small waves crashing along the shore and owls hooting in the distance. Any din of people was too far away for anyone to see you.

He grew harder in your hand as the seconds ticked past. Your fingers teasing the underside of his head, the tip, not moving too fast though you knew your time was limited. You kept your movements slow and even.

Wonwoo let out a quiet sigh and you finally ventured to look at him properly again. His body was relaxing more into the ground, sinking into his shoulders. His eyes had fallen closed and the soft breeze ruffled the hair across his forehead.

“See,” you murmured. “I’m not bad at this.”

“You’re alright,” he hummed.

“I’m still getting you warmed up,” you scoffed. “It gets better.”

“Oh does it?” He asked nonchalantly.

“I have half a mind to work you up and not make you cum,” you grumbled, still loud enough for him to hear and laugh.

“Do we get less points if I don’t cum?”

“I-” your hand slowed as you thought. “I don’t know how they’re grading this.”

“Wait, go back to what you were doing,” he said.

You brought your focus back to the task at hand but the ghost of a smirk was curling your lips. “So you do like it.”

Wonwoo opened one eye to look at you. “Well it doesn’t feel bad.”

You shifted yourself, straddling one of his thighs before leaning down and letting more spit drool onto his cock. Even more slick, your fingers moved more easily and you gripped him a little tighter while taking up a steady pace.

When you sat up to look at him he was staring at you, lips parted and letting out the smallest of huffs.

“Did you think I was going to start using my mouth,” you teased.

“I-I- no that’s not-”

“Do you want me to?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “I have permission to not use my brain right now.”

“Not really permission if you do it all the time,” you chuckled.

“I-” Wonwoo let out a moan instead as you squeezed his cock tighter in your hand, twisting your wrist as you stroked him.

“I didn’t peg you as a noisy one,” you teased.

“I- just- let me enjoy myself,” he said, a breathiness entering his tone. You leaned towards him a bit, now watching as pleasure started to show on his features. Your free hand trailed over the top of his thigh before you moved up his body, pushing his shirt up.

“Wh-What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just relax, will you?” you said. “I am doing a good job is what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing j-” you dragged your nails slightly down his stomach as your thumb played with the most sensitive part of his head again. “O-Okay, yeah you’re d-doing good.”

You smiled to yourself smugly as you went back to pumping his cock, a little more quickly and roughly. Your nails trailed over his skin and the night breeze that blew past your drew goosebumps up along his skin. Wonwoo let out more huffs and quiet moans and you felt his hips starting to press up into your hand.

You pulled back just a bit, slowing your movements and catching him eyeing you. “Come on,” he groaned.

“You want me to go faster?” you asked innocently.

“We’re- We don’t have time-”

You chuckled, leaning a little closer to him. “You would be fun to edge, you know that?”

Wonwoo started to sputter. And even in what little light you had you could see the colour on his cheeks at your comment. You still obliged him though, moving your hand now much faster than he was expecting and wrapping your hand around his cock tighter. You added a twist to your movement and Wonwoo let out a moan that was way too loud.

You slammed a hand over Wonwoo’s mouth, hovering over him and meeting his eyes. “Shhhhh, being that loud is going to get us caught,” you hissed.

Wonwoo answered you with a muffled moan and you took in his expression as he did. His eye lids had grown heavy and his gaze was a little hazy, though now focused on you with you being so close. You kept a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet as your other hand kept it’s quick pace and he started to press and rock his hips up to meet your hand.

“Are you close?” you hummed, this time with no teasing. Wonwoo nodded, trying to keep his gaze locked with yours.

“Are you going to be quiet?” you asked. He shook his head and as much as you wanted to sigh, a smirk tugged at your lips instead.

“If I knew you were this loud I would have brought a gag,” you hummed. Wonwoo let his eyes flutter shut but his moaning continued as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“I didn’t know you would be this much fun. I’ll have to take you way out in the woods where no one can hear us. And now we have those condoms. I can ride you and you can be as loud as you like.”

Wonwoo let out a moan, loud even with you muffling him, and his hips bucked up as he came. You felt the hot cum running over your hand as you kept pumping his cock, feeling more pour out with each pulse of his cock until one of his hands grabbed your wrist shakily.

“Okay,” he said breathlessly as you took your hand away, “Okay I’m good.”

“Well, almost,” you said, pulling your hand away and looking for somewhere to wipe it. But you didn’t want cum on your clothes and you didn’t want your hand wiping through the dirt so you did the only thing you could think of and stuck your fingers in your mouth.

When you met Wonwoo’s gaze you found him frozen, blushing hard, and watching you as you sucked his cum off your hand.

“Y-You- u-uh-”

You rolled your eyes as you pulled your fingers out and licked some of the cum off the back of your hand. “It’s the easiest way to clean up.”

“I-I yeah th-that makes sense.”

You looked down at his cock, still coated in his own cum before looking up at him. “Be quiet.”

“Why? What are y- oh,” He let out a shaky, quiet moan as you dragged your tongue along his cock, catching the cum on your tongue. His hips twitched from sensitivity and you moved as gently as you could, finishing by sucking the tip into your mouth before you brought your face up to meet his, fingers grabbing the hem of his boxers.

You were met with Wonwoo’s hands grabbing your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss that was much sweeter and needier than you could have expected. You froze as you processed what he was doing and as quickly as he had pulled you in he let you go, staring back at you wide eyed.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said faintly. “I didn’t- I-I shoul-”

“We should go find the group,” you said quickly, jumping to your feet.

“Y-Yeah we should,” Wonwoo mumbled shakily, tugging his shorts up.

#this is one of my fav smuts ive written in a while #its so much more fun writing for actual characters #camp north star au #cns au #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo imagines #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut

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bakatenshii · 4 years

Text

Flushed

Dabi x Reader (BNHA)

word count: 5.1k

TW: 18+, smut, dub/noncon, drug use/abuse, corruption, virginity, (mild) blood

A/N: I am 12 days late for Sunny’s birthday, but my heart beats for one person and one person only— the light of my life, my wife @blahkugo, who wrote me two (2!!) Shig fics for my bday Charity & Sludge, that I reread on the daily like the morning news. Cheeky shoutout to @thisisthehardestthing for writing one iconic sentence in here that I would have framed if I could.

flushed

/fləSHt/

(of a person's skin) red and hot, typically as the result of illness or strong emotion.

cleanse (something) by causing large quantities of water to pass through it.

Dabi doesn’t prowl for prey, he’s not on the lookout for fowl to take home for dinner. No, they come to him. It’s easy, always so obvious, he plucks them out like chicken in a hen house, ripe for breeding.

It wasn’t hard to spot a desperate girl burning out, Hell, the campus’ full of them. But you had something more, something fun, something that made his lips quirk up and his dick twitch— you were uncorrupted.

He can just tell, despite the airs you try to give, the aura of a virgin’s akin to an omega in heat to a starving alpha. Sweet, honeysuckle, the tiny flinches when a man gets too close, the breathy lilt in your voice when they propose something too risque; he inhales it all, commits it all to memory like you were desperately trying to do as you chewed on the tip of your pen and scratched out lines on the book in front of you.

He didn’t need to push, you were already teetering the line, but he did it anyways— because it was fun.

It was elating to watch you stumble into class the next day, eyes dark with sleepless anxiety, misery painted into every crevice of your features while your notes were tucked neatly into the drawer in his room. Really, you shouldn’t have left them so open on the lecture hall table, it’s like inviting a robber home and cooking him a three course meal.

Finals season marked the end of your social life, and the beginning of Dabi’s career. It was almost boring, the repetitive nature of his job; too easy, too simple, a mockery of the entitled bookworms who look down on scummy repeaters like him. But the entitlement is what fuels him, over-achievers fearing for two simple digits on a crumpled sheet of paper as if it’s worse than death itself.

He thrives off of their stubbornness to accept anything below perfect; the hilarity of it all, the irony that their insurance to achieve higher standards than that of a scum like him only fuels his lifestyle, bringing him deeper down the depths of degeneracy.

He sat behind you closer than usual, spoke a lil louder than usual, dropped in the most nonchalant comment about a study drug kids are crazing over these days. He watched as you flinched, hands stopped moving to listen in to the spiel he was spewing, the fishing hook he was dangling in front of you.

A magic pill, one that’ll help you concentrate, kill any sleepiness, get you buzzed for hours on end— best of all, it’s totally legal, he gets it from a pharmacist, scout’s honour.

That’s what he told you when you turned around to him at the end of class, whispering in hushed fear, nerves bouncing off your skin in goosebumps on your exposed arms.

Why he’s selling it? Because he needs some extra cash, he said. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he knew you were desperate enough not to care.

When you met him in the dead of night at the empty carpark of his building, he knew he’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. No self-respecting girl would meet bottom-barrel trash like him in a deserted location at half three in the morning, no, you were untainted, but you weren’t pure.

He didn’t need to know it worked, doesn’t matter what your test results reflected, all that mattered was that you came back to him a few weeks later, met him at the same dingy carpark, hands trembling slightly less this time.

He pretended to scold you, reveled in the way your lips curled into a soft pout, and warned you that tolerance builds fast. Do it in moderation, he had said— he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite.

You came to him only a week later this time, and Dabi had pretended to be shocked. He wasn’t, he gave you a lower dosage the last time, there was no way you’d have been satisfied. Microdosing leads the unsuspecting to addiction, the one fact he learned from school. He lectured you, asked you if you’d built up tolerance too fast, if you wanted to try something different?

He watched as your eyes lit up, pupils dilating in excitement at the promise of something different, something better. It really was too easy. You were too easy.

That night he invited himself over to yours, said he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t have any side effects. It was new, after all, and it was stronger. He’d sit there and be quiet, he promised; it was all out of the kindness of his own heart.

It was almost embarrassing how eagerly you’d lie to yourself in hopes of a better grade.

Dabi wasn’t gonna do anything to you that night, trust takes time to build up after all. Besides, it’s no fun to pounce on the prey before they started running. You studied the nonsensical scribbling on annotated novels, he studied your tiny movements, twitches, nervous habits; etched them into his brain for future use.

A too-long breath, a gasp, a clench of the fist signaled your come-up. He timed it, approximately thirty-five minutes for the initial peak, then smaller spikes at half hour intervals, totaling in four hours before you came down. Impressive, still, considering he’d given you the same dosage as the first time.

He stuck to his words, staying quiet only until prompted, offered you water every once in a while, really, he deserved an Oscar for playing the best supporting dealer. It only took two more sessions before your tolerance peaked again, calculated and timed to perfection right before the next assignment.

The beauty of seeking out an English major was that they’re always searching, reaching into the void for any type of inspiration to translate into eloquently formed words. The beauty of seeking out you, was that you were already in too deep, hooked by the lil pills and plunged into the bottom of the ocean.

Your grades rose while your inhibitions sank, a dramatic irony, isn’t that what they called it?

It’s cute, really, he only had to give you a nudge this time. Asked you how your assignment was going, played the sympathetic friend, and offered you something completely new, completely different. ‘Have you ever tried 2CB?’

Silly question, rhetorical, almost; of course you hadn’t. Innocent sweet girl like you never would’ve even touched weed, much less a hallucinogen. But he poses it to you in an eager tone like he’s genuinely waiting on an answer, like this isn’t just one big game to him. He laughed when you said no, asked him what it was— do you want him to show you?

You trust him, don’t you? He’s helped you through your exams, supported you through your assignments, honestly, he deserved a pat on the back. Don’t tell him you didn’t trust him, come on now, that’d break his heart.

He didn’t expect you to put up a fight, but you gave in almost too easily, guess those lil pills really did migrate and nest in your bloodstream.

The safety of your own dorm room was always granted to you, a faux-sense of security to veil you in, shield you from the true depth of depravity you’ve sunken to. He held you underwater in a net, ensuring you that he’d pull you up whenever— ‘just say the word.’

The net had long been cut, he’d admired the way you’d comforted down there, paddling aimlessly in hopeful conviction.

It’s become routine, almost. Dabi lets himself in easily, settles into the couch across your desk, pulls out a baggy and passes it to you. “A psychedelic,” he explains, “you’ll see colours you’d never seen, find beauty in everything, an artist’s best friend,” if he does say so himself.

He watches you pop the lil pill in your mouth, follow the stream of water pour down your throat, traveling the rips and divots of your tongue, before it drops down your throat into your bloodstream with a bob of your larynx. You’re so pliant, so obedient, he reminds himself to thank your parents for grooming such a cute lil doll.

You let out a loud gasp an hour and a half later, and he watches your fingers curl into themselves; and for the first time he speaks unprompted.

“You good?” It’s almost genuine; the curiosity, at least. He wants to know how articulate you are, needs to know how deeply submerged your consciousness has become.

He watches as you meet his gaze, little tongue dashing out to wet your lips, and nods once, twice, slowly. You shake your head almost immediately after, croaking out an, “I feel ill,” before pushing meekly at your desk to stand your body up. Cute, weak.

Just how he likes them.

He reaches an arm out to you, pulling you into his chest easily and nests your head into the crook of his neck. “Nauseous, aren’t you?” You nod, and he smirks. “Don’t worry princess, it’s just a rough come-up. I’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

It’s almost believable, how sickly sweet he sounds. Too many sitcoms accumulated in recycled dialogues to woo girls in any situation; mix and match, simple yet effective.

He can feel the restless rise and fall of your chest pressing against his, short quick pants as if gasping for air, a small hand scraping at his arm; yeah, you’re definitely coming up.

He picks you up and nestles you into your own couch, so easily as if handling a ragdoll, then walks to the kitchen and pours you some water. The perfect friend, the perfect support, the perfect dealer. You’re so vulnerable, so exposed, you don’t even know it; it makes his brain fog over with carnal desire to pounce— but he doesn’t. Not yet.

He lays back on the couch with you, arm snaking around your shoulder to coax you into a subdued euphoria. All the words he’s garnered throughout the years of fishing for his next meal come bubbling out so naturally in practiced scripts, “It’s okay princess, it’s a stronger pill. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” He’s promising a whole lot, tonight.

“Hey,” he tips your face to meet his with all the tenderness of a lion stalking its prey, “I’m here, right? You trust me, don’t you? I’ve never let you down. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

It’s hard to force down the gagging noise on cue with his disgustingly fake, rom-com lines, but the way he can feel your body loosen, relax, and mold into his tells him he’s close. So close.

This is the best part, this is what he’s good at; the last stretch of patience while stalking his prey, with footsteps so light, treading so carefully, until the air slows down around him and he can taste your scent wafting through the air.

It happens in an instant, a whole-body jolt as you tense up, euphoria announced with a sharp gasp. The smile that crawls up his face is nothing short of sinister, predatory, but he knows you don’t notice. You can’t. Your eyes are strewn shut, basking in the high, and he takes the moment to swallow the pill he’s held under his tongue.

It’s no fun to tripsit, he doesn’t get anything out of that, and Dabi doesn’t do things for free. He feels your head fall back onto his shoulder, short breaths warming a ripple of goosebumps up his neck, and watches as you push your heavy lids open to gaze at the ceiling.

He can feel your giggles reverberating through his chest before he hears them, innocent, pure, unsuspecting. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, because virtuous girls like you like to be treasured, made to feel special, safe— he can make you feel safe; no one’s told him not to play with his food before he eats it.

He watches as you flutter your eyelids at him, sigh into his touch, really, you’re the textbook prototype, he doesn’t even need to adjust his tactics. “You feelin’ good?” A hot breath into your ear, and he revels in the way your lips pout to let out a soft sigh.

Funny how differently you react when you’re high out of your mind, maybe it’s the drug, or maybe it’s just Dabi? You’ve always wanted a bad boy like him, didn’t you? Good girls like bad guys; it’s textbook cliché, and you’re the blueprint.

He doesn’t wait on an answer, he knows it: you’re feeling good, great— divine. He’ll be right there with you soon, he promises.

“Tell me what you see, princess,” Dabi’s not listening when a cascade of nonsensical descriptions come bubbling out, he doesn’t care. It’s all to get you to keep talking, shift your attention elsewhere while his hand slithers down your arm to play with the hem of your shirt.

At the first brush of his finger on the bare skin of your waist, he feels you purr into him, eyes rolling back in bliss. It’s his cue to give you more, invitation for him to snake his other hand up your naked thigh and knead the flesh gently.

Gentle does it, he’ll bring you higher as you go.

He ghosts a breath just under your ear, nipping at your lobe, and admires the full body shiver tumbling through. Moans, loud and needy, come panting out past your lips and echoes off the walls before bouncing back to him. He lets you symphonize short breaths and whiney pleas with each lick and suck traveling down your neck, painting blooms of purple and red as his hand travels dangerously high.

A firm grip is all the warning he gives you before he tucks his fingers into the crease of your thigh, laughing almost at how obediently you spread your legs. What happened to that pure, innocent girl? Guess under all that laid a dirty whore, just like the rest of ‘em.

It was slick, so wet, pussy dripping past the delicate lace and drooling over his fingers. Lace, befitting of a slut who lured him in with the fake charms of a virgin. He slides a finger down your slit, gathering up all the juices before presenting it to you.

“What do you see?” He holds up his finger, slick dripping down like syrup, and watches your pupils dilate in effort to focus. He can see the way your lips part, string of saliva connecting the two soft molds, before gasping out, “melting ice cream.”

“Want a taste?”

You clamp over his finger before he even asks you to, sucks on the digit like it’s a melting ice lolly, before your eyes shoot open and mouth twists in disgust. Of course it doesn’t taste nice, normal food isn’t even edible when you’re rolling like this. You’re sticking your tongue out, in an attempt to air out the taste, or maybe you’re just a dumb dog, a dumb bitch, he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care.

The same hand, now slick with saliva, grips your chin and crashes your lips into his. His tongue finds yours first, tip licking up the crevice of yours lolling out, and he sucks it into his mouth like it’s a crime for it to be kissing the air.

There’s no modesty, no gentleness, his tongue pries your lips open, and he feels the weakest form of resistance before he’s thrusting the muscle down your throat. He lapping over the back of your teeth, traces over each bump and rugae on the gummy sides, and snickers at your shit attempt to kiss him back with your slack mouth drooling out the corners.

He feels a pawing at his arm— your hand meekly grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt to bring him in closer, press his chest into your soft tits, crowd him into you more, more, more.

It’s cute; it’s stupidly desperate.

He gets it though, it’s no worries. Human nature is all it is; the desire to climb higher and higher— he wonders if he can get one out of you before the pill hits him.

There’s no gentleness in the way his hand slots between your legs and cups your dripping cunt this time. He wishes he has more time to admire the way your legs quiver and twitch with every firm pat against your clit, but he’s on a time crunch. There’s so much time to spare, he can play with it all he wants later.

He can feel your needy moan vibrate through his lips and reverberate straight into his brain, sloppy mouths working simultaneously together and against each other as he rips your panties and shorts off in one go. Any self respecting girl would shut their legs in shame, in embarrassment, any attempt to protect their dignity, but you don’t. He doesn’t let you, anyways.

A hand moves under your shirt to roughly grip at your tits in the same breath he sinks a finger into your sopping hole. Inhale; squeeze, thrust, exhale— you moan. It’s tight, as tight as a virgin pussy should be, but not too tight that it fights against the foreign digit ramming into it at a relentless pace too rough and quick to befit an unexplored hole.

He can feel the pulsing around him, gummy walls milking his finger for all its worth, and he digs his palm into your swollen bud; it’s all he needed for you to come undone. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream, the 2CB in your system rendering you incapable of anything except long breathy sobs of his name.

His finger pops out with a wet squelch, and he brings it to his mouth to taste it; tarty, thick— he’s still sober. You’re blubbering out drivel about the stars you saw, the colours swirling around at the peak of your euphoria, you think you saw God— is Dabi God?

Dabi had to laugh, pat you on the head with his hand covered in syrupy slick, watch it leak and clump your strands of hair. He picks you up with your shorts and panties drenched through dangling at your ankles, and walks you to your bed.

You don’t notice, still basking in the afterglow; he knows this. Not that you’d push him off, tell him to stop. Not in your state anyways. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

He drops you once the bed’s in frame at the same time he feels his pulse rise, heart palpitate, and a wave of nausea threatens to bubble over. It doesn’t; he doesn’t let it. An experienced veteran would never. It’s a welcomed sensation, one he’s all too familiar with, and he gives himself a brief minute to breathe it in, savour it, before glancing back down at your limp body on the bed.

Is it your body? He can trace your silhouette from the dip of your waist, the full of your hips, something glistening, gleaming in the light— your pretty little virgin cunt. His eyes roll back at the next inhale before he finds himself landing on the bed on top of you, forearms digging into the soft mattress of your bed.

He hears your voice singing into his brain, soft lulls of his name stringing out in DabiDabiDabi— the desperation and need shooting straight to his cock, he doesn’t even need to look down at your soft pliant body, welcoming him, inviting him in.

“Feels good, yeah?” His voice comes out rougher than usual, low and strained, and laughs at how eagerly you nod, watches your chin catch the air and paint strokes of colour following the route it takes, “Who makes you feel this good?”

He knows, he knows because it’s all you’ve been able to say the past while, the only word on your mind that you can even blubber out—

“You, Dabi,” your pants grow heavier; his pants grow tighter, “it’s you Dabi, please—“

A hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, your soft, uncalloused, hand, and he grips it by the wrist before bringing it up to his face. He traces every line that curves and meets on your palm with his tongue, letting it be covered entirely with drool before wrenching it down under his joggers and into his boxers to cup his aching erection.

His hips rut into your palm almost immediately as a knee-jerk reaction, every hump into your tiny hand has him panting into your face, sweat beading at his temples. His tongue drops down to lick at your lips, asking for entrance, begging for access. Your lips might’ve parted just a fraction, maybe just to let out a breathe, but Dabi takes it as permission to thrust his tongue in and prod at your dormant one.

He can feel you gag at the sudden intrusion, throat convulsing to push back the unfamiliar slimy muscle, and he briefly considers yanking your hand out and shoving his cock down that pretty little mouth of yours.

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have the patience. He needs it urgently, needs your tight virgin cunny stretching and agonizing over his overbearing size, needs to feel the flutter of the gummy walls with each thrust; he needs it bad, he needs it now—

Your hand is wrenched away as he yanks both waistbands down to his thighs. He looks at you, eyes blurring through kaleidoscopic vision, and makes out your disoriented gaze staring back at him. Disoriented with toxins, disoriented with need, lust, desperation— a hand reaches behind Dabi’s neck and pulls him back down to crash bruised lips together.

It’s all the invitation he needs, not that he needs it, no, what he needs is to sink his painfully hard cock into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. There’s a faint squealing coming from underneath him, and he thinks he can feel nails digging crescents into his nape, but all he can feel is your warm, wet walls clenching around him.

There was no need to prepare you for any longer, there’s no point if he doesn’t stretch your virgin pussy out with his own cock; it’s wasted on fingers, his fingers don’t deserve to feel the way you walls quiver and contract around it. The pitched cries stop eventually as he feels your body go pliant and soft, and he has half a mind to realize you’re probably starting to come down soon.

He doesn’t wanna deal with that, you won’t be sober for another few hours, but you’ve peaked already, and not with him; that’s not fair, that’s no fun. His cock stills inside you with half still unsheathed and he reaches down into his pocket to take out a baggy of powder. There’s a spoon in, thank fuck, and he feeds a small bump right up to your nose.

“Inhale,” he slots it right up your nostril, “it’ll make you feel good, didn’t you feel good?” Your head lowers to nod, bumps the edge of the spoon right into the cartilage of your nose, and inhale. Good girl.

The baggy is tossed haphazardly before he’s working his dick into you again, cockhead pushing through the doughy walls in search of that pocket at the end of your pussy.

You don’t struggle anymore, instead clinging onto his shoulders and carving half-moons into the flesh. It hurts a lil, and Dabi doesn’t like it when it hurts, not when he’s the one hurting.

He snatches your hands off him and pushes them above your head, into the plush forgiving mattress. His teeth are back on your neck, biting over the ripples of purple and green and red and blue, reveling in your cries and moans that come out in symphonies.

It feels good, great— divine, it’s what he deserves for bringing you to Nirvana. He’s basically your muse, after all, how can you truly describe rapture without experiencing it first?

He can hear your moans ringing out from underneath, can see them traveling in the air in hues of reds and pinks and reds and reds— there’s red on your bedsheets, of course there is. He forgot that’s what comes with a virgin cunt; blood, mixing with the translucent coating his cock, dripping down and painting the crisp white sheet red, drifting into the air and congesting the whole room with red.

He inhales the colour, sucks it into his lungs, and uses it to fuel the pistoning of his hips. Your breaths turn to pants, turns to sobs of his name leaving your lips again, and he thinks you look good, so good, taking his cock like this. You should thank him for bringing you to your second orgasm.

Just look at you, crazy isn’t it? Crazy what a lil pill can do. But he’s got something better, something so much better, something that’ll bring you to a new dimension. You want that, don’t you? C’mon don’t be shy, Dabi will bring you right there, don’t you worry.

There’s still the faint cries from your orgasm when he flips you over and pushes your face into the untainted sheets. He watches as your hands sprawl up to grip and grasp at something, anything, and his hands ease up on the hold on your skull for a second to let you wheeze and greedily gasp for air.

He flickers a trail of blue down your back, watches the flames dance and rage in a mirage, every bouquet indented by the ligament of each tender rib, and there’s a faint scream. The pitch rises with the flames, taunting it to go higher, faster, paint murals in every swell of your back until he can’t see anything except ash coal char.

Dabi blinks, squints his eyes as he throws his head back to focus on the paint chipping on the ceiling. It cracks and crinkles, shying away from his pointed glare, before he sucks in a deep breath and looks back down at you.

There’s no ash, no char, only warm tanned flesh, pressed flush against the pristine white sheets underneath. It burns against the pads of his long fingers splayed out across your back, and he winces in annoyance at the irony.

You don’t seem to notice his pause, too fucked out or fucked up to register what’s going around you probably. A mixture of both; Dabi can’t really remember what he’s given you or how long he’s been there.

He can’t decide if he wants to stay there anymore, can’t make out the pros and cons of either. He counts them off with each painful yank of your hair, each harsh thrust into your abused virgin cunt— it was that, wasn’t it?

He was there because he sniffed out a cute lil virgin, one so untainted and untouched, one begging for him to corrupt. He’s not known to be very generous, but sometimes he gets into one of those moods; it can’t be helped when there’s a desperate doll waiting to be torn apart.

He knows what you want, can read you with his eyes closed— you don’t need eyes to feel the pulse of a greedy cunny; it clenches with every slap of the face, damn near clamps down entirely as his slender fingers slither around to the front of your throat.

Two fingers shove past your lolling tongue and yanks your head back by the digits hooked on the corner of your mouth. There’s drool, and spit, and so many fluids coming and entering all at once— and then you’re coming, again, probably, for the third time that night. Fourth?

It’s methodical, straightforward, he reads the instruction manual once, maybe twice if the first one’s a bit faulty, and he’s got it down to muscle memory.

At the sound of heaving he looks back down again, admires the feel of two of his fingertips fucked straight into the back of your throat, and pushes down on the rugged gummy wall. You gag, and he laughs. It’s cute, so cute, you’re real cute, you know?

“Such a good lil whore aren’t you?” He digs his nails into the flesh of your hip and rams his cockhead until he can feel the kiss from your puckered cervix. “All fucked out of your mind, bet you can’t even hear me, can you?”

He watches as you gurgle out words past his fingers wedged down your slack mouth, and choke on the pools of saliva drooling out. It’s the funniest sight, fascinates him to death, really.

A slap to the face might bring you out of your daze, so he slips his hand back out of your sloppy mouth and revels at your body propelling forward straight into the headboard. He grasps at the tips of your hair and wrench your body back towards him before any satisfying impact could sound out. It’s a shame, but concussions are not in his agenda.

“Been fucked so loose, filthy slut can’t even keep your body up,” he rolls your hair around his hands and yanks back until your skull meets his chin; it’s excruciatingly painful, probably, and that’s why it’s the best.

It’s the perfect way for your mouth to fall open naturally, to scream, squeal, fluster around in attempt to be freed from the position— it creates the perfect hole for him to spit in. He watches as your face contorts in disgust, tongue pushed out to let his spit drool out the sides, but that’s no fun, not very nice of you, is it?

“Swallow,” he assists you with an extra hard thrust, and you choke on the moan coming out. His hand comes forward from your hip to rest under your chin before pushing it up so it clamps shut, “I said, swallow.”

Your eyes flood with tears that waterfall down your face, and God, he thinks you look the best like this— wrecked on his cock, body littered in purple and red, covered in sweat and blood and cum; his perfect lil cocksleeve, just for him.

It’s emotional, almost— religious, even, he can feel the palpitations in his heart thumping against his chest echoing off the headboard banging against the wall, and lets the euphoria consume him, wash over him as he coats your walls with hot ropes of cream and white, hips stuttering with your greedy cunny fluttering and clenching around it, milking and sucking in his cock in deeper, deeper, more.

He thinks you might’ve cum, might still be cumming, but all he can hear is the Messiah calling for him, choir singing lulling him into an infinite jubilation; he closes his eyes to bathe in it, let himself be cleansed and washed over with ecstasy.

When he pulls out, your body flops onto the mattress, and he watches as white dribbles out your quivering hole, mixing with the red on the sheets, creating a puddle of pink and magenta, before passing out in the fuschia.

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siriusmydeer · 3 years

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hello love, i was wondering if you could do a james potter x slythering fem!reader? one where she is working so hard on getting her life together. she is trying to be different than her family and working so hard but it is getting to her. she feels like she is failing and every turn she takes is a dead end. she feels like there is no purpose to what she’s doing. i think some super fluff is required, like james boosting her up and loving her. plzzzzz & thx

his slytherin

james potter x slytherin!fem!reader

summary: when you overwork yourself james is there to save the day.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of insomnia, mentions of sleep deprivation, mentions of not eating, mentions of over working yourself, angst, sad!james, house stereotypes, bad grades, implications of smut, WOLFSTAR😍, mentions of food, a breakdown, THERES FLUFF I PROMISE

seventh year was quite literally, a mess. maybe not for others, finally done school or they were super excited to travel around the world seeing things they’ve never seen before. you’re dream had consisted of constant studying, and working that barely made any time for yourself.

for the prior three years you had studied and practiced with madam pomfrey in the healers wing to eventually become a healer yourself, and it took a lot more than you thought it anticipated.

you knew as a healer, later in life you would have to deal with artefact accidents, dementor attacks, creature-induced injuries, magical bugs, potion and plant poisoning, dragon trainers with injuries, and incredulous spell damage.

with that you had to be prepared, which meant more time hitting the books and less time spending your final year at hogwarts with your best friends and your staggering boyfriend.

(hahah u see what i did there?)

james had qued in on your restless nights by gazing across at you in the great hall. the colour of emerald green becoming frequent in his life now; surprisingly to everyone else. where you were sat at the slytherin table, your eyebags already deepening by the day and your nose buried in some sort of school book.

the thought of even being like your family, made you nauseous. you didn’t want to be like your strict, immoral family, the death eaters, the murderers, and the ministry officials. who worked like machines without feelings or care.

as a slytherin born into a pureblood family those were the expectations that were almost nailed into your back like a sign said, ‘here’s the pureblood slytherin, shame her even though you don’t know her!!’

of course those were the stereotypes, ones that had been built on for centuries since salazar slytherin himself. that you of all people had to inherit. so you had to fall, and rebuild yourself entirely for even a chance. the restless nights, insomnia, caffeine and studying was your way of rebuilding.

of course that had an effect on your grades, not sleeping, not eating and barely focusing made your grades tremble a great deal to the point where professor slughorn got concerned by his best potions makers, recent poors in his class.

you were too focused on being better that you couldn’t even focus on your own well-being, that you couldn’t even see you were hurting yourself on the people around you. almost self isolating yourself from everyone entirely.

“darling?” james whispered, his body sitting across from yours at one of the mahogany tables in the library. pince set him a warning glare not to cause any mischief as she turned around.

“hmm?” you mumbled, barely acknowledging his prescence and continuing to read your defence against the dark arts textbook, something about the ‘chameleon ghoul.’

he had barely seen you all week, and when he did he saw your agonized face scrunched up in a book and your mauve dark circles that rested below your eyes clear as day.

“why don’t you take a break, dear? have a rest, you’ve been working non-stop. ve’barely seen you.” he murmured the last bit, embarrassed for feeling ‘needy.’

“can’t jamie, newts are soon i need to be prepared.” you looked up in his direction for a moment, barely catching his saddened eyes through his spectacles at your denial of his request to finally see his girlfriend.

if this were two maybe three years ago, james would not be caught dead having a conversation with a slytherin, let alone a relationship with one. the stereotypes blinding his vision for along time before he could see what was truly in-front of him.

i mean the gryffindor pride genetically ran through his veins as he was born into the etiquette pureblood-gryffindor family himself. it was almost destined for the both of you to be corporeal enemies.

but... something about your altruistic and considerate attributes subtly changed his mind. thanking merlin, and horhace slughorn for pairing the both of you in potions in fourth year. there was always something about the way you were so gentle and benevolent with him in potions class might’ve flipped a switch in his mind.

“right then... see you later?” he muttered disappointed in himself, you work so hard to prove yourself meanwhile he didn’t even have a glare in his way because he was the perfect headboy gryffindor student; with absolutely no judgements thrown his way despite his actions towards others in previous years.

“dunno, i’m studying.” you replied, your voice monotone and dull almost raspy from barely using your voice unless answering questions in class to almost being a know-it-all and pushing yourself to the tops of all your classes.

he got up from his chair, it scraping against the floor as he walked to the exit almost like a dog with its tail between his legs. he just got so mopey by your dejected less merry self. he had to do something, he had to make you understand that being a slytherin wasn’t just you.

it was a part of you sure, but ambitious just meant you strived for your goals and you were cunning which showed your amplified skill.

that didn’t mean you were— evil? being a proud reckless gryffindor was one in his heart but nobody ever thought he was malicious.

so, james fleamont potter did the only logical thing he could think of; going to his bestfriends for help. of course at first they were not over the moon glowing in delight when they found out he was dating a slytherin, especially sirius.

but that was expected, his family being his only views on how a pureblood slytherin acted only projected onto you. giving you almost a conscientious reason to work, the thought of someone james felt was his brother perceiving you as despicable only made you pursue your self judgements.

but after your book swaps with remus, you and peters athrimancy study sessions and music bonding with sirius they grew quite fond of your personality and thought that you were due with a chance with the marauders.

“moony, i need help.” he spoke desperately as remus’ face was also buried in a book, except out of his own free will.

“james needs my help? hear that sirius? prongs needs my help.” he declared proudly as the brown-haired gryffindor groaned crossing his arms.

“it’s y/n.” he mentioned, glancing in sirius’ direction before sitting on the vermillion love seat across from the fawn haired boy.

“what about her?” remus was more-so confused, what would be so wrong with you that james had to ask him for help?

“she’s suffocating herself, the books, the studying, not sleeping, not eating, nothing. i dunno what to do anymore remus, she’s so pent up on wanting people to stop looking at her like she’s heinous she’s working herself to death!” he ranted, all his anger and agitation spilling out in one fast-paced sentence that james needed to catch his breath by the end of.

“i just dunno how to make her catch a breath, take a break. what do i do?” james panted, looking at his mates for an answer.

“imperious curse?” sirius proposed, a bad proposal but his intentions were... thoughtful. “yeah let me go use an unforgivable curse on my girlfriend so she can have a study break. no thank you, next.” james sarcastically humoured him, james didn’t want to compromise your education or use an unforgivable curse on you for that matter but you looked so incredibly burnt out he didn’t know how to help you.

“body-bind curse? so she’s like.... forced to stop?” peter suggested, looking up from his transfiguration essay catching onto the conversation as he twirled his quill between his fingers.

“or, y’know something actually logical you could do is take her books. get her lavender tea or something, let her talk.” remus finally spoke, shrugging then looking at the ‘lord of the flies’ book in his hands a smirk lying on his face knowing that would he james lucky choice.

“moony, you genius! i could kiss you!” james hopped up from his seat, on his way back to the library.

“oi! i’m the only one he’s going to be kissing, prongs!” sirius yelped as james walked out of the portrait hole with a distant chortle.

on his way to the library, where you were previously seated, james made a stop to the kitchen to grab a few of your favourite snacks and some water. he dropped them back at his dormitory, but not without a mini lecture on ‘kissing moony.’ from sirius.

what a drama queen.

the castle was slowly darkening, the only light pivoting from the floating candles in the air. he saw your frozen-like figure in the same spot you were except looking over your history of magic textbook, learning about the ‘emeric the evil.’

“y/n.” he stated firmly, you almost jumped from your seat in surprise, due to your recent sleep deprivation. “merlin james, give a girl a little warning first.” you chastised before returning to your next book that was slammed together right in-front of your eyes.

“james! i was—“ you were cut off quickly by him gathering all of your books and placing them in his left arm. “what are you doing?” you questioned, looking at him with furrowed brows, to exhausted to argue with him.

“you’re not taking care of yourself, you’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, your basically a study.... that muggle thing- robot! you’re a study robot! so i’m taking care of you.” he got sidetracked as he spoke in a gentle yet firm tone.

“but i have too-“ you were cut off again by his pointer finger shushing your lips together. “no, either you sit here in silence because i’m taking your books either way or you come with me to my dorm.” james spoke, resisting to your complaints.

“fine, but you have too—“ you started off, annoyed that your study time was ruined by james incessant comments about you ‘overworking yourself.’ he though, was not having any of that. “nope.” he grabbed your hand, dragging you off to the gryffindor tower.

you gave a small tired wave to sirius, peter and remus on the way to the dormitories as they were all either on the floor or splayed across the scarlet-coloured couches. sirius following with a teasing wolf whistle and wink seeing the both of you walking up the stairs.

“don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!” he chuckled, looping his arm over remus’ shoulders.

“ha, bloody, ha, padfoot. so, so funny i’m on the floor laughing.” he teased, sarcasm lacing his words in a monotone voice almost mocking snape.

you playfully rolled your eyes before being dragged up the stairs to the boys dormitory. the only noises heard were the clacks of your shoes and the soft breathing emitting from both you and your boyfriend.

your eyes were met with candies sprawled all over his poorly made bed, one of his quidditch sweatshirts paired with your favourite joggers; the ones he probably stole from your dorm room one night; because he was keen on you just staying there with him and ‘subtly’ moving all your things into his dormitory with the rest of the boys.

you looked at him with an arched brow, a silent question of ‘why are you doing this?’ ignoring your questioning look he sprawled himself on his twin-bed, his hands clasping in his lap waiting for you to change.

you put on the clothes he layed out, feeling james’ left hand tug you onto his chest when you were done. oh his soft, pillowy chest, you almost felt tempted to fall asleep right then and there.

“darling girl, tell me what’s going on?” he softly questioned while stroking your hair with one hand, his other arm stroking your back.

“i just—“ you stuttered, feeling a wave of tears glossing over your eyes. “i feel like everything is going so, so, wrong. m’so afraid of failing, i want to be better! i don’t want to be like m’terrible family, but it all feels like so much!” you mewled into his shirt, his grasp growing a bit tighter in an effort to psychically comfort you.

“baby, you’re nothing like your family, you have to know that?” he directed your vision to his gaze, the soft marks of mascara down your dampened face only made his gaze softer.

“you work so hard on trying to be not like your family, you don’t even know how amazing you truly are. you’re so generous, you’re always willing to help someone even if you don’t like them, i know i wouldn’t have that patience!” he softly chuckled, seeing a faded grin on your lips.

you sniffed as he continued his praise, “you’re such a hard worker, and i’m truly in awe of you. you’re the one person who truly puts her best foot forward and it’s so incredibly amazing, but you’re working so hard your exhausting yourself. y/n, it’s breaking me to see you like that.” you saw small wet streaks around his eyes, not truly realizing your self destructive habits had been harming people around you; had been harming him.

“jamie, i’m— im so sorry!” feeling the wash of emotions suddenly bundled up wash all over you, your nervous system feeling overwhelmed with the emotions of sadness, guilt and anger bubble up all at once. you whimpered into his shirt, spewing out mumbled apologies that were barely coherent due to all the sobs.

“shh- shh, don’t apologize.” he articulated, shifting his hips up and grabbing a folded parchment from his back pocket.

“w—whats that?” you questioned, trying to calm down the mewls and whimpers that wanted to escape your throat.

“this, darling, is a schedule.” he pointed out, a week schedule with times on it that labeled your subjects as well as times of the day. he also dedicated certain parts of every single day with “james!!” in bright red ink.

“so those,” he pointed out, directly at all the times he wrote his name leading up to the newt dates, “are times you and me spend together, no studying, just loving. so i can remind my beautiful, smart, and amazing talented loving girlfriend how astonishing she is.” he said with a grin, proud of himself.

“you really know how to charm a girl, potter.” you may have teased, but without him you don’t know what you would’ve done. james was truly your saviour, your light, stars to your moon; if you will.

he was yours, and you were definitely his.

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kirishoshego · 3 years

Text

Listen before I go//Bakugou

Summary: Things won’t always go your way, but what if the person you love the most has to watch you take your final breaths? Note: I fucking cried at the end myself, be prepared for lots of sad emotions! I’m sorry in advance!

TW: This is a fic filled with ANGST, DC; the reader is going to die and also mention of depression and all that, so please read at your own risk

inspiration: Billie Eilish: Listen before I go

You didn’t really know when it started. Was it the bullying? The fact neither one of your parents cared about the fact you’re drowning? You don’t remember, really. But depression has been your “friend” for a long time.

But you do remember when it stopped. You moved, away from the memories, away from the people and started over again. Created a new you, a you you could get along with, a you someone fell in love with. Bakugou and you met at your job at the café, you made his hot cocoa after a rather cold day. Because of said weather you didn’t really had any costumers and he enjoyed the warmth of the shop (and your company, which he would tell you later when you’re wrapped up in his arms). He introduced you to his friends and they became your friends within a few days. They where shocked to see Bakugou with a SPARKLE in his eyes whenever you were there or mentioned. Kirishima knew he was hooked, enjoying his best friend turning (slightly, we’re still talking about Bakugou) softer. You were one of the few people who knew how to handle him, biting back and letting him be when he needed to let it all go. You were the one person for him where he could let go, who showed him what love is like, slowly letting go of his abusive past. You were his home and he was yours.

You got out of your shelf more, finally having enough strength to fulfill your wish to study. And you loved it, the first two years went so well.Your grades where amazing and because you moved in with him, you could drop out of your work and concentrate on school. Bakugou and you were so in love, planing your wedding, maybe starting a family once you’re done with your University. Being hero #1 suddenly didn’t seem so important for him. That changed almost a year ago. Midoriya was almost on top. Hawks was now #1, Midoriya close #2. How could he let that happen? Stupid Deku is now two places in front of him, he had to train more again, train harder. Spend less time with you and save more life, he was a hero after all. When he wasn’t at work, he worked out, he came home late most of the time and because University took a turn you could’t stay up so long anymore. Couldn't keep waiting for a two minutes conversation about how amazing his work as a hero is. How amazing he is and how he will beat Izuku in no time. You tried to stay above it, really you did. You stopped talking to your friends so you can focus more on school, they came around a few times but you told them things where fine and you just need some time to focus, you will let them know when you have time and when you need help. But at night your old enemy would creep up again. You tried shutting them out at first. You got this, you just need a bit more time. But then your grades came back. C-, D. Trying to hide it from Bakugou didn’t work, he had caught you crying in the shower one night when he came home early after Mina called him with worry laced in her voice. “She looked so pale Bakugou, so tired and thin. We’re worried about her but we can’t reach her, she’s shutting us out,” He left the gym immediately and bought your favorite take out and planned a movie night just for the two of you. He even got you your favorite flowers. And for a few weeks he was there again, he cared again and he saw you did better, you even went out with Mina and Kirishima once who invited you for a karaoke night, Bakugou joined you later and you enjoyed ever second of it. But it didn’t last long, Bakugou had to put his head back to Hero work. “When I’m on top, I will have all the time for you, I will take you on vacation and we can finally pay for our wedding,” he would tell you. But you didn’t want to go on luxurious vacations or expensive dates or dresses. You wanted Bakugou again. Your pleas fell to deaf ears, sometimes he would loose his temper, yell at you and get angry for not supporting his life long dream. “Of course you’re all that matter to me!” he would yell when you would tell him you missed him and feel less important to him. His actions showed you different. Don't say I'm all that matters Leave me Deja vu So you stopped asking for his time, stopped waisting it or the time of your friends. You can be alone, you know the feeling. And you stopped shutting those voices out, craving the familiar feeling of having company. You knew it was wrong at you tried putting up a fight, but you were so, so tired. So alone. “Maybe its because you gained weight? Stress eating doesn’t look too well on you you know?” the voice was worried, pointing at your belly. “That’s why he doesn’t touch you anymore, or maybe he has someone better, it’s not hard,” you dismissed the voice, telling it, it was just the stress. “If he would care about you, he would work less. Look at you, such a mess! If I was him I would try to do as much outside as I can,” you looked into the mirror and the voices where right, you did look so done. No colour in your face like there used to be, your skin dull, just like your eyes. And your hair was a mess as well. You haven’t showered for a while, you just couldn’t. You stopped working on your school tasks. “You’re going to fail anyways, why even try? You are stupid, pitiful and useless,” everything Bakugou isn't, something Bakugou didn’t deserved as a partner. He deserved better. You knew those voices, knew they were right, right? They knew you better than anyone, they knew you better than you knew yourself. But now, after a year, a new voices creeped up from somewhere dark. “He wouldn’t care if you would be gone, you know? It would make it so much easier for him to become Hero #1. You are holding him back, your friends too. You’re such a burden to them, always checking up on you. They could use their time so much better, than this. At first you ignored this voice. You didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave him. You wanted to be by his side, wanted to be his wife. But the more he was away, the easier the voices could haunt you. Until it was too much. They won. You had two more weeks left. Two more weeks to say good bye, two more weeks until you will feel at peace again, until the voices will be quiet. Two more weeks until Bakugou had nothing holding him back. You could take a shower again, could go get your hair done, eat again. Mina was so excited for the two of you to meet up again, she didn’t had much time and apologized for it, telling you about her plans to move into a bigger apartment with Momo and Kyouka, how stressful it is next to hero work. “Don’t worry about it Mina! I know how busy your life can be, you’re always such an amazing friend to me, I love spending time with you and being able to laugh until I cry,” you had told her. She wasn’t supposed to blame herself, it wasn’t her fault. “Before you go, I really wanted to gift you something! It’s really small but when I saw it I just knew I had to get it for you,” you explained to her, wrapping a bracelet around her wrist. She thanked you, tell you she loved you and how pretty it was. Kirishima came to your place by surprise. At first he told you that he didn’t had time, trying to keep up with Bakugou, but when he looked at your tired face something told him that that wasn’t as important right now. He brought you a hot drink and took you out for a walk. For once your eyes sparkled again, the snow covered nature filling your heart with joy. The world was so peaceful for a while. Kirishima told you about his girlfriend’s pregnancy, showed you the first pictures. He told he was secretly hoping for a girl. You spend a few hours with him, until you couldn’t feel your hands anymore and he had to go to the doctors with his girlfriend to check up on the baby again. You called his name after he went to leave your doorstep. When he turned around, you hugged him tightly. “Thank you for today Kiri, this means more to me than you’ll know,” you whispered. “Anytime Y/N,” Kiri’s voices was so warm and you knew he meant it. Bakugou wouldn’t be home the next three hours. You had enough time for your letter to Bakugou. You tried putting it off, trying to escape reality as long as possible. But now you could’t anymore. Two weeks were over. Your hand was shaking, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes, but you had to do this, had to give him closure. You didn’t want anyone to blame themselves. It wasn’t their fault. You weren’t sorry, this is what you wanted, you were too deep down, too far, too weak. And for once you wanted something to success, wanted to feel at complete control over your life.

My love, when you’re reading this I will no longer be with you, no longer around to hold you back. I went to my favorite spot, to enjoy the view one last time. I wish I could enjoy it with you, but that’s a selfish thought. I love you, I always have from day one and always will. Remember the first day you came into my shop? I remember feeling the butterflies erupt in my belly when I saw you for the first time three years ago. Your rambling about how stupid extras can be and the way you almost spilled your drink all over yourself while using your arms to put more emphasis in your sentences. I knew I was falling for you right then and there. I still remember the day you asked me to be your wife. You were pissed at how nothing was working out the way you wanted it, that they messed up your order at the flower shop or that you burned the food because we were so occupied with each other, so lost in our love. (I still remember the bruises I had even three days later, god, you always knew what you did). And the fact you had to drive me to the hospital because I cut myself open with the knife. And there you were in the room with me, my clothes sprinkled with blood and feeling dizzy from losing so much, on your knees. You yelled at me for being so clumsy, but I saw the tears in your eyes you held back so much. And then you pulled out the ring with a shaking hand. “Damnit shitty woman! I planned this whole day and you had to get yourself injured. Why are you always so clumsy?! I have to wrap you up in foil, I can’t let anything happen to you,” curses spilled out of your mouth and I just had to laugh until my stomach hurts. I love you so much. And then you asked me and I felt everything turn brighter, warmer, more colourful. You always made me feel so happy. The way you would fall asleep when I read you a story, how your arms always found your way around my waist even when you slept or the gentle kiss on my forehead whenever you had to leave for work. Remember the time everyone was here? It was Christmas and you cooked such a tasty meal, you really were a master chef. Kirishima dropped the potatoes and you were so angry at him, running after him and setting small explosions off, making him stumble and fall head first into our pond. He was freezing and even though you told him off and said it was karma you still made sure he took a hot shower and his towel was heated. Or how you had to carry Mira back to our apartment because she was so drunk, complaining about how careless she is and you’re not her personal taxi. You still made sure she had a glass of water and pill next to her for when she woke up, telling Denki to shut up because she will have a head ache. Or remember the last time you bought me flowers? You bought the biggest bunch of flowers I ever saw, it was probably three times my head. They smelled so lovely. But not as lovely as you. I always enjoyed the lazy days with you the most. How warm you were, how you always smell like caramel, not the deodorant you always put on before leaving me. How you would play with my hair for hours, whisper sweet nothings in my ear. You gave me a home, a family, all I could have asked for. Thank you for that Bakugou Katsuki. I want you to know that I made this decision a while ago. This was not just a rushed thought in the moment. I want this. I can’t keep trying anymore. There is nothing for me left. I fought against it for so long, telling myself things will be okay again, telling myself we will be okay again. But to be honest I stopped believing this a long time ago. I'm not okay, I feel so scattered I’m so proud of you, of what you have accomplished and without me holding you back you will finally be Hero #1. I just know it! I believe in you, you really put in everything in it. I will be watching you from up above if something like heaven exists. Please let me go and don’t beat yourself up, okay? I want this and there is nothing you could have done to make me feel better. There is no way out. Call my friends and tell them that I love them and I'll miss them. Always in love, your Y/N

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling now, this really is it. And you felt at peace, you felt calm, you felt happy. The pills stood next to you already and you knew once you swallowed them you will have fifteen minutes until you’ll fall asleep and your heart will stop. It will all stop. You wore your favorite dress, the one you always wanted an occasion for but just never found it. Know you knew, it fitted perfectly. You took a deep breath and poured the pills into your hand. Next to you stood your favorite drink that you wanted to enjoy one last time. You kissed Bakugou’s letter and started taking the pills. He wouldn’t be home for another hour so you had enough time. Suddenly your phone binged. Kirishima. “Hey! Amazing news, we will have twins! So far it seems like a girl and a boy, isn’t that cool? I’m so excited, hope to see you again soon, love you lots x Kiri!” You smiled. His wish came true, you were so happy for him. You called him but he didn’t pick up, probably spending his time with his girlfriend now. Should you leave him a voice mail? Before you could overthink it your mouth started moving. “Hey Kiri! It’s me Y/N. Obviously... Uhm, I just wanted to let you know I’m so happy for the both of you! Or well, four of you now! You will be an amazing father, I know it. And have amazing and beautiful little babies run around. You’re almost 7 foot tall, Pro Hero #5, nobody will mess with these babies. You are so gentle and loving, warm and caring. You’ll be the best dad anyone could ever ask for. I’m so proud of you. Greet everyone, I love you too!” it cut off right there and you were glad because you couldn’t keep your voice strong anymore. Twelve more minutes. You signed and looked at your apartment one last time. You cleaned it before, you didn’t want Bakugou to deal with this mess. You opened your apartment door to make your way all the way up to the garden. Nobody goes up there in the winter, it was too cold for them and parents feared their children will drop from the roof. The pills started to show their effect, you felt tired slowly, your body getting weaker the more you try to walk up stairs. just a few more steps you could it. “Woah Kiri, that's awesome! Two babies, I hope they aren’t as annoying as you are... I’m just kidding! Just kidding! I can’t wait for ours to run around too, time flies by, huh?” No it can't be! Why is he here already? This can’t be happening, no, no, no. Your legs grew weak and you felt yourself slowly falling to the floor. No, you don’t want to leave here, you want to the roof top, this can’t be happening. “Hey Kiri, I will call you back okay? Something isn’t right,” you could hear the worry in his voice, could picture the way his eyebrows furrowed together. You left the door open. Ten more minutes.

Heavy footsteps run up the stairs until his eyes landed an the fabric of your dress. He appeared right in front of you, tears streaming down his face when his eyes landed on your fragile body. “Please... Please don’t leave me Y/N,” his voice was weak, broken. “You weren’t supposed to find me, you weren’t supposed to be home for almost another hour,” you very shocked at how thin your own voice was, so timid. “I came home a bit earlier cause I wanted to make dinner for us, spend the evening together, the sun will set-” “In 3 minutes I know, I wanted to see it one last time,” you explained to him, your eyes looking up at the dark ceiling. “It’s not too late, I can save you, I’m a hero, I can- I have to, I just, no, no, no. How could I let this happen? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please let me save you,” he was begging now, praying to whoever will listen. He picked you up bridle style. “That’s not how I imagined my first time bridal style,” you joked weakly. But he didn’t listen. He wanted to save you. But before he could move you put your cold hand onto his cheek. It was wet and warm. “Don’t, there is no use,” he knew. He knew as soon as his hands landed on the empty pill bottle. But he was hoping it wasn’t to late, that you haven’t taken them. He didn’t want his worst fear to come true, but here you were, in his arms. The arms he saved so many lives with, just not the one that matters the most to him. “This can’t be it,” he hugged you tightly, letting his emotions out. “Take me to the rooftop, I wanna see the world when I stop breathing, turning blue,” you whispered into his ear. He couldn’t bring himself to not do it. He knew he couldn’t stop from what was about to happen, but he didn’t want your last moments to be on this godforsaken staircase.

So he took you there, each step he took heavy, dreadful, broken. As the door opens you could finally breath again. Finally you felt peaceful and completely happy. He sat down on the bench, dismissing the snow drenching his jeans within seconds. The sun started setting and you had the most beautiful view in front of you. “I love you,” you whispered while you both looked into each others eyes for one last time. “I love you too, so much. And I know sorry won’t save you know but I should have listened more, should have been more observant, I’m sorry I wasn’t the man you deserved by your side. You matter more than anything in the world to me. I love you misses Y/N Bakugou,” he kissed your cheek and could taste the salty tears on your cheeks. “It’s not your fault love, it was inevitable. I was sick long before I met you. You gave me the best three years of my life. I don’t blame you and please don’t do it either. It’s just my time to go now, there is no place here for me anymore, nothing holding me here. I’m finally happy again now. I want you to fulfill your dreams and become hero #1, I love you Mister Katsuki Bakugou,” you voice wasn’t more than a whisper, he could barely hear you, but he tried so hard. You looked at the sunset one more time, taking it all in one more time. The fresh air mixed with a hint of caramel. The quiet whimpers of the love of your life. You looked at him with a smile on your face. Taking in your last breath you kissed him, with all the love you ever felt for him, with all the love you wish you could have still gifted him. And then you went limp. He didn’t want the kiss the stop, wanted to repeat the last minute over and over again. Bakugou hugged you so tightly he was afraid to break your bones, but he couldn’t stop it. He cried into the crotch of your neck, the sun long gone before he could muster to look into you face again. “You were my dream,” he whispered, stroking your face gently before screaming into the night. ©Kirishoshego NOTE: Please know that suicide is NOT the only option. Someone close to me took his life a long time ago and let me tell you, people care, people love you for who you are and you’re amazing. You matter and you can do so much more than you think. If you ever feel like giving up please talk to someone, you can always come to me, I will see your messages and I will care and listen!

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gracestone · 3 years

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1/3 Ever since I had a recent rewatch of the show, theres been something on my mind that I cant stop thinking about. When it comes to my ships I pay attention to every little detail, like lighting in a scene in this case. Theres been 3 major core 4 confession scenes in s1 and s2. Rini in 1x10, Rina in 2x06, and Portwell in 2x12. Since the lighting was overall much brighter in s1, I can understand why Rinis scene was bright with colorful/yellow tones.

2/3 The contrast b/t Rina and PW conf scenes is night and day. Rina flashback has white stark lighting, signifying a cold and distant feel. PW has yellow lighting thruout, symbolizing warmth and hope. Rina FB takes place in the exact same room as the Rini scene so it could have been edited w/ more yellow tone lighting if they wanted to show some hope romantically for them. But they dont. Definitely think that was on purpose. I mean, PW conf takes place at night in a parking lot but they still...

3/3 ...have yellow tone thruout and its a really happy moment for them b/. One could argue that the Rina scene was a FB to excuse the choice in lighting, but they've done FBs before w/ much better color saturation. Just s/t that I had to point out. And this is coming from someone who used to be a former Rina stan who now wants that Portwell series endgame. LOL. I know Im thinking too much, but I was just interested on your thoughts on this if you have any. You have the best theories/metas btw!

First of all, thank you for the compliment! It means a lot that you enjoy reading my thoughts ❤️🥺

You're not overthinking this, anon! In fact, you made an excellent point! Cinematography, lighting and colour grading choices matter in storytelling and can tell us a lot about the intention of a scene. To back up all the points you made, I took some screenshots of all the confession scenes.

Ricky and Nini in 1x10:

Ricky and Gina in 2x06:

EJ & Gina in 2x12:

It's understandable that they changed the colour grading of the 2x06 flashback to match the darker grading of season 2. The scene would stand out too much if it were still as bright and saturated as it would've been in 1x10. Just to make the difference between the two scenes clearer, take a look at the same shot in both 1x10 and 2x06:

Look at how different the two scenes are. Not only is the S2 version less bright and saturated, it also has a more green tone and a bit of a vignette (the darker edges). I think the vignette was added for the sake of it being a flashback, but I think the red tone being replaced with a more green tone supports your argument that the scene was meant to have a more distant and cold feeling. Especially when contrasted with the yellow and red tones in the Portwell scene. They didn't have to town down the red tones in the 2x06 scene, but they did. That's a deliberate colour grading choice and makes the scene look colder. And as you said, the Portwell confession took place outside and at night. It could've resembled the dark and cold grading 2x04 (The Storm). But it didn't, because that's not the feeling we're supposed to get when watching the scene. We're supposed to feel Gina and EJ's happiness.

So I totally agree with you, anon. The 2x06 confession wasn't a happy moment for Gina, but a sad and hopeless one, and ultimately served as a (unspoken) rejection, whereas the 2x12 confession was a happy and hopeful moment and the climax of both Gina and EJ's arcs in S2. The stark difference in lighting and grading in both scenes shows us how the 2x06 scene was a low point for Gina, while 2x12 showed her at her happiest.

#hsmtmts #ej caswell #gina porter #portwell #otp: risotto #portwell meta #i even went and tried to match the grading on the 2x06 scene to the 1x10 scene in my editing software #came pretty close but didn't get there all the way #but it helped me confirm that they did tone down on the red and upped the green #love it when you guys pay attention to these filmmaking choices!#i live for this stuff so it makes me really happy when you bring up excellent points like this one #ask

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anon-e-miss · 3 years

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I feel like whether Iazz and Prowl got together with Jazz already having the twins or having them together, either way, even grown, the twins would still be two of Prowls staunchest defenders if anyone said anything about him being a drone spark or something

"What ever it is, I can explain," Cheetor said as he entered Jazz's office.

"I hope ya can, actually," Jazz replied with a forced chuckle. "Come on, sit. Ya ain't in trouble. 'M hopin' ya can give me a bit o' intel?"

"On what?" Cheetor asked.

"Tarantulas."

"What?" Cheetor asked and he fidgeted. "Web-brain?"

"You had a run in wit 'm before ya got outta Tarn," Jazz said. "Ya went AWOL straight outta basic, lookin' to settle a score."

"I..." Cheetor shrank in his chair.

"Whatever ya can tell me, Cheetor," Jazz said, soft and patient. His subordinate was spooked, so spooked his bravado could not rise up enough to hide it. "It's important. I need to track 'm down. A mechlin's life might be at stake."

"The bitlet," Cheetor flinched like he had been struck. "Prowl..."

"Ya know 'bout Prowl's bitlet?" Jazz asked, surprised by the revelation.

"I... I was a youngling," Cheetor said. "Web-brain caught me in his web. He was going to drain me of my mechfluid. Prowl, I didn't know his designation at the time appeared. He was... he was naked except for these these rings around his wrists. I recognized them. They would put them on debt slaves in the brothels to keep them from being able to transform and escape. His forge was swollen, he looked so... frail with that big belly, he looked so tired when he slipped me the scalpel. He bent over the counter and told Tarantulas the his perfect creation need more contributions. Tarantulas... giggled and scurried over. He didn’t... he just fragged, tricks on the street had better style. I got myself out of the web... We made optic contact, me and Prowl. He jerked his helm towards this tunnel. He told me to go, with his optics. I went.”

“Scrap,” Jazz cursed.

“As soon as I was done basic I went back there,” Cheetor explained. “I’d learned how to fight, I thought I could get him and his bitty out but the lab was empty. It had been empty for a long time.”

“Ya ever speak to Prowl?” Jazz asked.

“No,” Cheetor shook his helm. “I didn’t think... I thought he wouldn’t want the reminder. I hurt Bots talking, you know how he was found, how he was enlisted and I thought, maybe that monster ate his bitlet... I didn’t want to remind him.”

“Ya did the right thing gettin’ out,” Jazz said. “Ya did what he wanted ‘n I bet he’d be glad to see what a brave, young mech ya turned into.”

“I heard what Vortex did to him,” Cheetor said. “Or what they’re saying. Some of them are saying he asked for it.”

“Prowl put ‘mself in harms way to protect my twins,” Jazz replied. “He didn’t ask for scrap. He told me about his bitlet. Told me he don’t feel ‘m no more but don’t feel a broken bond either. ‘M lookin’ to sniff Tarantulas out. I don’t suppose ya can tell me more ‘bout his ole lair?”

“I’ll tell you everything I know!” Cheetor said. “I... I can help. I’m sure I can help. I’m fast! I bet I could distract him so you can get after the bitty.”

“Let’s just start wit ya tellin’ me what ya know.”

They had never been lovers. True, there was a chance that they had been and Prowl saw the errors of his ways, but Jazz did not think so. Prowl would not have let that he had experienced a change of spark. This was Prowl, he would have either shot Tarantulas in the back of the helm or he would have just slipped off when Tarantulas had been distracted. He had been a prisoner, under Praxus as the Decepticons had been looting the city, before the explosion and he had been a prisoner when he had been ensparked. Had Tarantulas guessed Prowl’s part in Cheetor’s escape? What sort of punishment might Prowl have suffered for rescuing the youngling?

He could not ask, not yet. The Twins walked alongside him with the crystals they had chosen for Prowl. Jazz had given in to their pleading and let them each choose their own arrangement for Prowl. They deployed Grade A guilt trips and Jazz had walked away from the florist with an arrangement of crystals to give himself. He thought the datapads he had boxed would probably be a more Prowl gift, but there was no telling no to the Twins when they got like this. Maybe Jazz was too permissive a procreator, but he could not find a reason to say no when they only wanted him to be nice to their favourite mech.

How in Primus’ designation had Jazz missed how much they adored Prowl for three vorns? They were not just comfortable with him, they actually loved him and Jazz had just figured they had been sneaking into his office to get a rise out of the most stalwart Autobot on the planet. His preconceptions, misconceptions of Prowl had put blinders on Jazz. He should have listened less to Chromedome, because Jazz knew what kind of boss Prowl was, he was coming to question if everything Chromedome had said all these vorns could have been lies.

“Prowl!” Sideswipe held the arrangement he had chosen out as they stormed into the Praxian’s treatment room. He set the datapad he had been holding down. Prowl smiled. It was the tiniest squirk of his mouth and a crinkling at the end of his optics. Holy Primus. Might Prowl love them back? “We brought ya crystals! Aren’t they pretty?”

“They are,” Prowl said.

“Granny says crystals help mecha heal,” Sideswipe explained as he placed the crystals on the table next to Prowl’s berth. “Because they’re bright ‘n happy.”

“Yer granny’s fond o’ crystals,” Jazz said.

Sunstreaker held the crystals he had chosen up to Prowl, then set them down on the table next to Sideswipe’s selection. He confidence bred from familiarity, he climbed onto the medberth and sat sat down next to him. Jazz was speechless. He knew Sunny was a cuddler but Sunny was picky. He loved to cuddle him, his twin, Punch, no one else. Sideswipe was not nearly so coordinated as Sunstreaker and he clamoured, or tried to clamour onto the berth. Jazz quickly set the box and crystals he was carrying down and scooped Sideswipe up and then set him down with Sunstreaker.

“He didn’t jerk ya, I hope?” Jazz asked. Prowl shook his helm.

“Even if he did, I would not feel it,” he replied. “Ratchet has not reactivated my relays.”

“Don’t forget to give Prowl your crystals,” Sideswipe chastened his progenitor and Jazz smiled at him.

“Did you harass your progenitor to give me crystals?” Prowl asked and Jazz felt bad that he had come to that conclusion. He made to attempt to save face.

“They did,” Jazz said. “Got an audial full ‘bout turnin’ up empty servoed. My Ori’s right though. Crystals help ya heal.”

Prowl’s optics were the same colour of the celestite in the arrangement Jazz had chosen and he had not noticed it. He set the arrangement on the other table. Between the artwork covering the walls and the crystals covering the tables, Prowl’s treatment room looked bright and full of love. When Prowl looked down at the Twins, his optics sparkled like the crystal. They went opaque when they fell on Jazz. The expression, the optics were the window to the spark, had never held truer for any mech.

“Ya still torturin’ yerself wit Optimus’ sap?” Jazz asked.

“This one is the worst yet,” Prowl said. “Not only is the plot full of holes, the dialogue is awful and it is riddled with grammatical errors.”

“Ya been correctin’ it in yer helm, ain’t ya?” Jazz asked.

“Perhaps,” Prowl replied and when he looked at Jazz there was a spark, a sparkle and Jazz laughed.

“Well, I brought ya somethin’ better,” he said. “A bunch of mysteries ‘n historical fiction. I thought that’d be more yer thing.”

“Yes, absolutely,” Prowl replied and somehow he looked brighter, lighter. Jazz set the box down next to the crystals. “Thank you.”

“Y’re welcome,” Jazz said. “Why don’t ya show Prowl that picture ya been working on Sunny?”

“Oh, ya!” Sunstreaker exclaimed. He was excite as he pulled out his sketchpad and turned it on. “I drew crystals.”

“That is beautiful,” Prowl replied. Jazz sat down in the chair next to the berth as rested his ped on the edge. Sunstreaker showed Prowl all the little details he had been working on. Sideswipe told Prowl about the raise he had won. Prowl nodded along and smiled the barely perceptible smile. Jazz was getting an idea what sort of originator Prowl had been to his bitlet, a soft, patient and loving one. He hoped to Primus that Ostaros was somewhere for him to find. This originator ought to have his bitlet in his arms again. It was long overdue.

#valveplug #maccadams #vortex au #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf sunstreaker #tf sideswipe #tf cheetor #cannibalism #anon fic ask #anon asks ficlet

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usernoneexistent · 2 years

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April 3rd - Flying

A/N: Okay so for the first one we have Wren. I haven’t done much with Wren so I thought this would suit her the best. Also Jax and Robin are @oneirataxia-girl spawn and spawn of the spawn. You will notice that Wren’s hair has changed. First, I studied more on drawing braids better and second, Wren changes her hair colour and style like all the time in my headcanon. Warnings: None

The journey home was a long and painful one. Not in a literal sense though, Wren knew something was up. Her mother was quiet, well, she's usually quiet but quieter than normal. When she gets this calm it means nothing good. Her father on the other hand was being his usual goofy self. Either her mother knew something her father didn't or he knows but is not giving it away. Anyhow, whatever the case may be, Wren just knew there was trouble. Her twin, Robin didn't show much interest, rather relishing in the silence. It wasn't once they reached their house by the lake her mother finally spoke up.

"I found out yesterday." She started, her dark eyes staring piercingly. Her father, Jax took it as a sign to leave. Robin followed suit. Once alone, her mum continued, "How you have been flying on your broom every night after curfew for a straight month now and that you've been skipping detention too."

"Sorry mum, I hav-"

"I'm not done yet!" Clover cuts her off quickly, "Your grades are slipping too. I'm not expecting you to have all Os but at least put some effort into them."

Who told her mum that, cause Wren never told her about flying past curfew, skipping detention and her grades. This is not how she wanted her second spring holiday to start. Wren rather hoped for the issue to be buried away. She hung her head in shame.

"Sorry mum. I didn't mean to let my grades slip, it's just I wanted to practise for quidditch and well, I let it take over my studies too."

"Really," Her mother's face remained the same. Not letting a single emotion slip out, "You should have thought about that more carefully. I'm grounding you from your broom for the entire spring break."

"But mum! The final season is just around the corner." Wren whined.

This didn't seem to deter Clover, "Doesn't matter, you need to learn the consequences of your action."

Clover did exactly what she said. Every single bit of quidditch equipment was locked up. Wren didn't understand why her mother could have a little more sympathy for her. After all, Clover was on the quodpot team at her age. She stormed off into her room. She decided instead to comply with her mum's punishment that she is going to fight it. She refused dinner and locked herself in her bedroom. A light knock came from behind her door.

"Go away!" She yelled.

"It's me, Wren."

Wren reluctantly lets her father in. He pulled the chair at her desk and sat on it backwards. His arms rested on the back of the chair.

"I already knew about the flying," Jax admitted, "But I would be hypocrite if I told you off."

"So mum had to," she finished him.

"Yeah. Hey I get it," Jax comforted his daughter, "You have the final game in a couple weeks against Gryffindor, right?"

Wren nodded, "We're in the lead by 30 points and we get the house cup if we win this match."

Jax knew, no, understood how his daughter felt. He remembers the pride of winning for Hufflepuff. They don't get many victories, so every single one of them counted for their house. Jax leaned closer, "I'll talk with your mother and see if we can have a practise session together."

Wren shot up keen, "Yas!"

"But," Jax stopped the girl from being overly excited, "It will be strictly supervised for only an hour and no going to the broom shed outside our practise session."

Of course, it was too good to be true, however, the girl agreed, happy that her dad was on her side. He was always the less strict of the two. It's not that she hated her mum but just felt misunderstood by her. Regardless, she was not planning on keeping her promise. Once everyone was asleep. Wren slipped out and went over to the attic. The broom shed was most likely hexed by her mum. Nevertheless, Wren remembered they had Jax's rickety, old broom from his time at Hogwarts. It was held barely together by magic, a bandage and lots of hope. She fervently prayed that her mum deemed the broom to be useless. To her luck, it was there. She sneaked carefully back to her room, tiptoeing around the creaky floor boards as not to alert anyone in the house.

She opened her bedroom window and a light breeze of spring entered in. Her whole room cools down the heat from the sun earlier. Wren climbed on the broom begging that it won't fail her. The broom creaked but it holds. Barely.

She took off and headed straight towards the natural night light of the moon's radiant beams. In the distant, the city of London light up the night sky from the street lights. The broom dropped a couple times, narrowly escaping the trees in the countryside. Regardless, it worked for the most part. Something in her felt so alive being so high and so close to the stars. Adrenaline pumping throughout her body, keeping her in the energetic high. This might not be such a bad spring holiday after all.

Spring Break Masterlist

#Hogwarts: Spring Break 2022 #1st prompt #flying #wren arcane #robin arcane #jax arcane #clover sweets #those braids took me forever #i did cheat a little on the background #like that’s a surprise

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ohmy7hearts · 3 years

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spring gale

Summary: Spring means new beginnings but a gale (a storm more like?) in the name of Shinazugawa Sanemi blows your plans out and throw your once peaceful life into the winds.

Pairings: Shinazugawa Sanemi x Fem!Reader // future Shinazugawa Genya x SisterFigure!Reader

A/N: this,,, is v impromptu. i literally got out of my bed bc it has been bugging me with how little sanemi fanfics there are, esp modern aus. tbh, there have been plenty of fics brewing in my mind and tell me if there’s any you’d be interested in and maybe i will return from my hiatus hah:

- zhongli modern au: adepti babies being your adopted children and navigating parenthood

- unknown pairing as of now but travelers being your kids so transporting yourself into the world to find them after 500+ years of not returning home

- etc involving atsumu, diluc, childe but if you have any requests, feel free to drop it in and maybe i’ll consider them

Warnings: Some cursing (I mean it’s Sanemi lolol)

“Shinazugawa-san?” Sanemi glanced up, his hands continued packing away his things into the bag, an eyebrow raised. You smiled, hands folded over the other in front of you, as you continued to speak after gaining his attention. “When would you be free to do the project?”

He sighed, throwing his bag over his shoulder, while making his way out of the classroom - tone and body language showing his disinterest in the conversation. “We can just do it in class.”

You jogged to get into step next to him, “Well, it is for the bare minimum. I’m sure we can do much better than that.” You observed his side profile to see if any emotion could give way to what he was thinking. You frowned, frustration creeping up on you, “I understand that we’re not each other’s first choice in partners but that’s not an excuse to not do our best.”

“Are grades and studying the only thing in that airhead of yours?” His eyes flit towards yours for a moment before returning its gaze forward. “I don’t fucking have as much free time as you.”

You stopped following him. A bolt of anger and disbelief had your mouth dropping and hands curling into shaking fists. You scoffed, voice raising with each word, “I believe you need this more than me, Shinazugawa-san. Unless you want to continue being a pain in everyone’s ass and eventually not even graduate, then be my guest.”

He swiveled towards you. You flinched reactively. He faltered, face momentarily flitting from anger to surprise back to annoyance the moment his eyes scanned you. One step, two steps. He was in your space, breathing in and out to you, with his strikingly cold eyes and thin eyebrows furrowed. “Say that again, I dare you.”

You closed your eyes before releasing a deep sigh, muscles easing from the hold of your anger. “We don’t have to do it after school or on the weekends if you are that occupied. We can do it before school or during our breaks and even before our clubs start.” You grabbed one of his wrist, turning his palm upwards, shoving the crumpled paper with your number into it while fixating your glare on him throughout. You refuse to back down but you will be the bigger person. Forcing his hand to a close, you narrowed your eyes for good measure while trying to control the smirk from overtaking your face when his frown further deepened in distaste. Taking a step back, your hands returned to the usual folded stance, you forced an amicable smile to replace the smirk - although you have a feeling that he could still see the smirk from how his eye twitched, “Of course, it’s really up to you, Shinazugawa-san.”

Turning on your heel, you headed back to the classroom with your head held high and a full-blown smirk on your face while your peers watched with stolen glances and whispers behind hands or under breaths. The clicking of his tongue echoed in the corridor and in your head all the way back to the classroom.

“Ara, ara, should you really do that (Y/N)-chan?” Shinobu greeted you by your desk, eyes filled with mirth from the free entertainment.

You laughed airily, eyes not meeting hers but focused on clearing the messy table, “I wouldn’t have to if he wasn’t that difficult.”

“Not many survive Sanemi you know?” Shinobu followed you to the student council room. “One must use their life's worth of luck to crawl out from his bad side.”

A bark of a laugh escaped you from her exaggeration. “Shinobu-chan ~ I thought you wanted to get into medicine and not theatrics?”

Her eyes met yours, a smirk tugging on her lips, eyes shifting precariously into ones when she knew something the other party doesn’t and in this case that was you. A shiver ran down your spine. You’ve been in the spot only a few times but still a few too many with most of them ending up jerking your view of the world down a path you’ve never considered. You gulped, hands itching and playing with themselves.

“Did you not hear about how he got into a fight with some university boys down at the park?” She leaped into your space, voice dropping into a whisper in your ear yet head tilted to ensure a front seat view to your reaction. “He came out with a couple of scratches and bruises but…” Her small hands encircled your upper arm. Your eyes dropping to them before returning to her face - surprised to witness your shock colouring your face white as it was reflected in those big eyes of hers. “The boys said to be much bigger than he is, had to go to the hospital.” Her smile bordering on unhinged glee, she drawled, “They were so scared they didn’t sue him.”

She immediately returned to her spot beside you, a foot away, while her shoulders and arms lifted in a form of a shrug nonchalantly. “Apparently, when questioned, the boys said something about them being the ones out of line and they have worked things out.”

Being close friends with Shinobu and Mitsuri meant that you were privy to the latest gossip and news but you always took it with a grain of salt seeing firsthand how some things were purposefully voided or added for the enjoyment of teenagers. You smiled unsurely, “that’s just a rumour Shinobu-chan.”

She pouted, invisible to those who didn't know her well enough or who weren’t keen enough, “You can ask Akio. He was a witness.”

Your eyes widened before blinking in incredulity. “What.”

She giggled, hand raising in a wave before dashing down the corridor. “Do share with me if he tells you more!”

It took you a few seconds to regain your bearings, even a shake of your head to rid the mental image of Sanemi punching away on people bigger than him for his amusement. He was by no means a small person shown clearly with the muscles seen even through the school uniform - a testament to his achievements as one of the greatest fighters in the taekwondo club despite his lacklustre participation of actually attending said club practices - but there were certainly bigger and taller people in your school, much less university.

“Hashimoto-san!” You snapped out of your musings.

“Tanaka-san.” You greeted back. The black haired guy chuckled, “I told you to call me by my first name. After all, we’ve been working together for 3 years. Unless, you don’t see me as a friend? Damn, it must hurt to only be seen as a student council partner even after winning the presidential election together.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You huffed, plopping down into the chair and hands gravitating towards the papers on the table before being stopped by a hand on your wrist. Raising an eyebrow, he returned the gesture indicating there’s something he was expecting you to tell him. He released the grasp on your hand the moment you were falling back onto the back support of the chair with a sigh. “How may I help you Akio?”

“On the way here, I heard an interesting piece of news.” He sat sideways on the table, the leg on the table folded over the leg still standing. You folded your arms over your chest and hummed. “You and Shinazugawa were fighting?”

“It was just a talk that got a bit heated. I was trying to get a hold on him so we can do our project for literature together.”

Akio’s eyebrows shot up and disappeared under his bangs. “Wow, what luck. First, he somehow got into your class through that stupid maths shit and now you have to deal with him.” He smiled in assurance, eyes crinkling close and a hand over his heart. “Be careful but if anything happens, I’m here. I’ll come running to save my beloved president.”

You mouthed a wow. Silence blanketed the both of you as you nod in understanding - lips trying to contain the smiles and laughs - as he continued to express his devotion through his hand gestures - hand flying to point at you before returning to over his chest, patting it, then forming into a prayer of sorts - all the while mouthing his loyalty to you.

With a shake of your head and hands indicating him to leave as you pulled yourself closer to your table, “Thanks but I doubt I need it.”

Instead, he tilted his head backwards and narrowed his eyes on the ceiling. “If you see what I saw, I wouldn’t put too much faith in him.”

Blood freezes over while questions overwhelm your mind. You gulped and licked your lips to get rid of the sudden dryness, “And what exactly are they?”

“He didn’t stop beating them up or screaming at them even when they were down. Three policemen had to pry him off and restrain him.”

Your heart dropped.

#sanemi #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi imagines #shinazugawa sanemi #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #shinazugawa sanemi imagines #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer imagines #kimentsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #spring gale

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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

Text

Downtown Detour

ayo its ya boi back with more timari and ignoring my wips cuz im plagued with timari brainrot

written in the same au as:

Rooftop Rendezvous and

Alleyway Altercation (NSFW)

AO3 link to the series

Timari 2.2K words, no warnings other than references to intimate relations

Summary:

“Red Robin makes a breakthrough in his investigation of the new Gotham Rogue and goes to confront her about it.”

without further ado

Tim could not believe this. The new Rogue, Karma—Marinette Dupain-Cheng— had been spotted a total of three times since their last encounter by either his brothers or the cops and none have been able to subdue her for more than fleeting seconds. She was caught breaking into a politician’s house when the man was away on another one of his exotic hunting trips; another artefact was stolen from the museum after that, one they were unable to retrieve; and finally she was last seen escaping from Robin by the mayor’s office, only no one know what was taken from there. All three times she was spotted and nothing to show for it other than bruised egos and missing items.

During his little investigation into her supposed civilian name, he came across a series of interesting police reports from Paris, France of all places. A penchant for grand theft auto since her teenage years as well as a series of vandalism and reports of stolen student records from her high school at the time. There was even a rescinded expulsion, a litany of suspensions and a plethora of unexcused absences. She was a cookie cutter criminal in the making. But for Tim, it didn’t make sense. While all the evidence points to a child delinquent grown into an adult criminal, something about the situation set Tim’s teeth on edge. There was something missing. Something she wanted Tim to find out, if her giving him her name was anything to go by. But what?

She had no local address on file and the last piece of legal information that had any traceable location was a one-way ticket to Shanghai from four years ago. Immediately after her high school graduation. All her social media was deleted around the same time. She had effectively gone off the grid up until her emergence as a part of Gotham less than stellar night life. But why?

A closer look at her time in Paris led him to discover an interesting trend but it wasn’t anything concrete. Starting about when Karma—Marinette— was thirteen, her unexcused absences lined up with some of their infamous akuma attacks. While at first it could be argued that many children had unexcused absences in the beginning, and she had less than perfect attendance even before then, her disappearances also coincided with attacks far from her school which was where she should have been at those times. Then there were reports filed by police who spoke with her parents about her sneaking out at night which also lined up with notable akuma attacks. Either she was an overzealous fan of the city’s temporary heroes, or she was constantly in the thick of the action and kept it a secret from people close to her, letting her reputation suffer for it.

‘Trust me, I know all about acting in the name of the greater good. The good-girl act got tiring after a few years,’ she had said. ‘Much more rewarding to give into your own self-interests,’ she continued. ‘Something you could try emulating.’

Her words echoed in his mind. He never thought much of them before, his mind preoccupied with other things her mouth was doing that night. It could also be chalked up to everyone being the hero of their own story and she had just coloured her own experiences. But just maybe…

Before he could entertain that train of thinking, his phone alarm was alerting him of his scheduled patrol. Hopefully he could catch a hold of his current person of interest and get some more answers. And perhaps get a read on what her intentions are in this city. With him.

~~~~~~~~

The skyline was a welcoming sight as he flung himself from building to building. The wind beneath him carried him across the sky like an actual bird and the thrill of the freefall lit his nerves on fire. His route was quiet but his appearance should coax out a certain thief. Red Hood was investigating a weapons smuggling deal that was set to take place by the Gotham Harbour. Nightwing was back in Bludhaven with Signal, introducing him to nighttime patrol. Robin and Black Bat were tracking a drug deal that was rumoured to disrupt the balance of the Narrows. Spoiler was with Batman doing their regular routes and Batwoman was doing her own thing somewhere. Oracle, as always, was on standby on comms and monitoring everything. This was the perfect opportunity for Karma to strike so Red Robin just had to be patient. The night was young.

An hour into his sweep of the city and Oracle was patching him into a radio call about a break-in in some pawnshop back in the Fashion District. It wasn’t on his route tonight but Oracle figured that with their likely suspect, and his arrangement with her, he was their best shot at apprehending her. If only temporarily.

He arrived at the pawnshop without fanfare and found the storefront window broken into. Further inspection led him face to face with the object of his affection. Karma was posed calmly behind the cashier counter rifling through an assortment of jewelry that was left on display in the glass cases. It was only the faint twitch in her eyebrow that indicated her awareness of his presence. Other than that he went completely ignored. That won’t do. Not tonight. He approached her slowly and stopped on the other side of the counter, leaning into her space. He could faintly smell her rose-scented perfume. Her strawberry shampoo. Even the cherry lip gloss she wears under the mask. He’s tasted it enough times to know how strong it was. For a vision clad in black she was rather fond of red flavours.

“Can I help you, Tweety Bird?” her voice was soft, sprinkled with faux indifference, not wanting to disrupt the background noise of rings and necklaces clanking together. She hasn’t looked at him once.

“Breaking and entering and attempted theft are serious crimes, Karma.” He saw a faint twitch of amusement in her eyebrow but her posture was relaxed and non-assuming.

“That’s not why you’re here. That’s not why I’m here either.” Her eyes sweep up to him as she stops searching the jewelry. She’s staring intently at him as if he’s to understand the meaning behind the words she’s not saying. He does. They’ve played this back and forth before. Danced their little tango of push and pull.

“You wanted to see me then? Thought this was the best way to get my attention, hmm?” He leaned in, pressing his weight more into the counter. She matched his advance and propped her face in the palm of her hand. Her finger tapped on her mask. He figured if the accessory wasn’t there she’d be biting that finger instead.

“Well it worked. Didn’t it? You’re here after plenty of time to conduct a rather thorough investigation into who I am. Or was.” She took off the mask, finally, and he was right. Her lips were shining in the dim light of the night with the familiar hues of her lip gloss. He presses on to not let himself get distracted by the slight smile on her face.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. Paris, born and raised. Above average student in terms of grades but a disciplinary streak about a hundred miles wide.” At this her head tilts in amusement. Her faint nod encourages him to divulge all the aspects of his research. “Absences and tardies more often than any recorded presences. About twelve suspensions in the span of three years and a rescinded expulsion when you were about fourteen. A couple run-ins with the police in regards to charges of theft and property destruction.” Her face scrunched in an adorable pout at that as if it were a reminder of an embarrassing moment and not outlines of criminal offenses.

“Definitely not my finer moments, I assure, but keep going. You’re doing so well,” she interrupted him. She had shifted so that she could jump over the counter and sit atop it, her legs crossed and her arms bearing her weight behind her. Red Robin was temporarily silenced by the arch in her back and the lean lines of her exposed neck. He rose to his full height; just barely reaching her shoulder, due to her new vantage point.

“You disappeared after your high school graduation, my investigation says you ran off to Shanghai but I believe there’s more to it than that.” She had uncrossed her legs to accommodate him between them and drew him closer by his shoulders. Acting on instinct, his arms found purchase on her waist and he was brushing the pad of his gloved thumb across the exposed skin. It was uncharacteristically soft but neither heeded mind to it.

“You think there’s more to me than that?” She leans in, almost breathing the same air as him. “You’d be the first,” she continued while snaking a hand up his neck to scratch lightly at his scalp. The touch sent shivers down his spine and had his toes curling in anticipation.

“So tell me then,” he licked his lips and stared at her through the film of his mask. “What is Paris’s Lady Luck doing here causing mischief in Gotham?” The question was a gamble and could upset the rapport he had with Karma. He was the team’s only lead on her, for better or worse, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever it was between them.

It was probably the right thing to say though, because she hasn’t left him yet but instead was staring at him with something indescribable in her eyes. Excitement? Approval? Affection? Red Robin wasn’t sure what to make of the glimmer of emotion in her eyes other than to take it as a good sign.

“You got this far in your investigation, Tweety Bird,” she leaned in closer, just a hair’s width away. “Why ruin the chase and tell you everything now?” Her lips were brushing against his as she spoke and the cherry flavour was almost distracting. His tongue peaked out to swipe a stronger taste. The arms around her waist tightened and he pulled her to the edge of the counter, her legs wrapping around him on instinct.

“Surely you could reward me for figuring out this much, right?” His voice was pitched so low if she wasn’t already breathing in his words he would have worried that she didn’t hear him. “After all, it’s not everyday someone discovers the identity of the allusive Ladybug.”

“The bird wants a reward, does he?” She finally sealed his lips with hers, stealing any half-baked retort he might have had. This kiss was different from the multitude they’ve exchanged in their times together, carrying over the unanswered emotions from their last encounter and introducing new ones into the mix. The air felt still and cool on his face and the fingers in his hair tightened even further.

They were like that for what felt like hours but was merely a few minutes; just calmly exchanging kisses, nothing straying beyond that silently defined line. They didn’t need anymore for tonight. Karma had taken to progress this further by trailing her lips to the sharp cut of his jaw. She alternated between small kisses and even smaller bites as she made her way up to his ear. Her breath was warm against the shell of his ear and he leaned into the faint contact. A lick and a bite later, her lips were curled up into a smirk as her hand in his hair held him in place.

They stayed like that for moments lost to time. Neither making the next move, nerves buzzing with anticipation. He felt an itch for more that only she could scratch and she was denying him that satisfaction. Despite that he made no inclination to instigate more, letting the ball stay in her court. After more silent minutes he felt rather than heard her chuckle against his ear. She jumped off the counter, pressing every curve of her body against his. Even then, he unconsciously tried to pull her closer, pressing her against his front and the tempered glass of the counter. Before he could do as he pleased with his new leverage, she wiggled out of his grasp and moved towards the broken storefront window, mask in hand.

“It was great to see you tonight,” she throws a glance over her shoulder, readjusting the mask over the lower half of her face. “And I’m glad my assumptions of you were right.”

“What assumptions? What do you mean?” The confusion was almost palpable beneath the traces of cherries. He moved to reach for her, to keep her here for a bit longer. To explain herself. To not leave him. She evaded his grasp and leapt out the broken window. From outside the building she turned to him and aimed what was clearly Red Robin’s grappling hook out to the nearest building.

Instead of answering him she chuckled and tilted her head in amusement at his growing distress.

“See you around, Tim.” Her parting words were lost to the air as she shot off with the grapple into the night. Red Robin stood frozen, rooted in place at the use of his civilian name. How did she know? Who exactly did he decide to get entangled with? Among the cacophony of new questions one thing was for certain.

He was utterly fucked.

#maribat #timari #timinette #ml x dc #this is tame to others in this little mini series #tumblr dont fucking try me #surprisingly NOT hornknee hours #i know i surprised myself with this one too

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