#where was i? anyway. shoulders. also scars. i'm weak for scars sorry not sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jessica-writes22 · 2 years

Note

Here's the fic!

(For context this is set after a dangerous event where Lyssa almost died, and Kian had been worried all night. Also probably set in book two or three where the two of them have built up mutual respect and don't hate each other as much as back then. Tbh I just wanted an excuse to write some soft Lyssian lol)

(Also this probably isn't my best writing aaaa I'm sorry if it's bad—)

Darkness did not always mean evil. It also meant the safety of being under covers, or the serenity of closed eyes, or the quietness of an evening.

Like this one.

The waves of the Starlight Beach had faded into white noise. Besides that, all Lyssa could hear was the rustling sand under her feet and her and Kian's steady breathing.

She hadn't brought a lantern when she'd gone after him earlier. No one else seemed to notice his absence, but the Star Scarred bond had it's uses. She followed that feeling of him, of them, and ended up on the shores of the beach. A lone figure sitting on a log had caught her eye in the distance. She could tell who it was from far away. Besides a slight hitch in his breath, Kian showed no reaction when she sat next to him.

That was what unnerved her the most. She'd always wished for him to shut up for a minute or two or forever, but now that he was still, it was uncomfortably unusual. Not even his signature smirk was there. It would be more calming if he at least had a frown or something, any sort of emotion.

Funny. The moon and sea's light shimmered, but they weren't bright enough to illuminate the two figures on the shore, leaning closer to each other without realizing it. So Kian's honey eyes were as dark as the night.

They are beautiful all the same, a part of her mind said.

Lyssa shook her head and banished the thought as quickly as it came.

Not able to take the silence much longer, she nudged him with her shoulder. "Hey."

A smile flickered on his lips, and she found herself easing up. She observed their surroundings, and the trees behind them, shrouded in shadows.

"Not afraid of the dark?" She asked.

"Nah," he answered, leaning back a bit. "I stopped fearing the dark long ago. There's plenty to fear in the light."

"Hm." Damn poet, Lyssa thought. She turned back to him when she heard his breathing shake. For a moment, she thought he was going to cry, but he rubbed his arms.

The idiot was feeling cold.

She couldn't help but laugh at this show of vulnerability. So he was human after all.

"I thought the citizens of Superbia had their fair share of low temperatures," she said.

"We all have our weaknesses," he muttered.

She chuckled. "Come here."

He turned to her, although he seemed confused. But as she lit a small flame between her fingers, his expression showed amazement. The fire brought light to his eyes, casting them in gold once more.

He leaned closer to the warmth. Lyssa knew that the heat in her cheeks had nothing to do with her fire magic.

"You're a lifesaver, Tiger."

She rolled her eyes and backed away. "Call me that again and you can say goodbye to me and this fire."

Now it was him that laughed. His fingers wrapped around her wrist and he gently brought her closer to him.

"Forgive me, my dear," he said, a half-mocking tone lining his voice. But his smile seemed genuine.

She rolled her eyes again, but went back anyway.

"Your hands are freezing," she commented.

"That's because I'm a ghost," he said, grinning. He yelped when she smacked him half heartedly.

"Seriously." With her free, unlit hand, she reached for his hand and brought it to her lips. She breathed out, and warm smoke curled around their hands.

She let him go. "There."

Their eyes met and she felt a pang of… of something. Warmth and happiness, the feeling that it would all be okay. But beyond that, a wild want, held back by respect. She didn't know if this emotion was his, reaching through the Star Scarred bond, or if it was hers. She didn't know which possibility was more terrifying.

The wind blew past, whistling in the air and sending a streak of her hair over her face.

"Stupid breeze," she grumbled, squinting. Then she felt something on the side of her face.

When she opened her eyes, Kian was tucking that stray strand behind her ear. His thumb brushed the scar that traced the side of her face.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It seemed to be bothering you—"

She held his hand where it was on her cheek, keeping it there. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't be sorry."

The flame in her hand had gone out, but neither her nor Kian cared.

There was more than enough warmth between them.

OMGGG this is fucking amazing I 100% see them doing this at some point I absolutely love this thank you so much!!!!!!

Can I borrow this line and put it in my wip?

"Not afraid of the dark?" She asked. "Nah," he answered, leaning back a bit. "I stopped fearing the dark long ago. There's plenty to fear in the light."

#fan fic #others writing #this is fucking amazing #thank you so much #!!!!!!#love this #wip: trials of avaidia #writeblr #writeblr community

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one-boring-person · 3 years

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Hii, I'm unsure as to who do you take requests for :( I'll just hope that you write for the yautja!

Could you maybe write a yautja's reaction to his furure mate seeing his face for the first time and they are like "😳" and all of the sudden they are even more shy around him since their crush on him only got stronger?

Thank you for reading and sorry if I requested a character you don't write for, haha. Please, feel free to ignore my request if that's the case! Have a lovely day! 💙

All of the characters I write for are listed on my character list, which can be found via my masterlist, but I'm glad you requested this, because it's given me the chance to try writing something new. This is my first time writing for a yautja, so I'm sorry if it sucks😅💛

Are You ill?

Yautja x reader

Warnings: some minor bad language

Masterlist

They're tapping under his mask again, the rhythmic clinking of their blunt nails on the dented metal drawing the yautja's attention to the human in his arms. He looks down at them, finding their wide eyes fixed on him, clearly curious, as they always have been, their lips drawn into what he's come to recognise as fascination - he's still a little unsure of which emotions are displayed by which expression, but he has a pretty good idea. Their hand rests by the chin of the face mask, fingers running over the covering, their other hand splayed on his chest to keep them balanced. He's not wearing his chest and shoulder armour, or the majority of his arm greaves, and his legs are bare of their metal shielding to make him more comfortable, but his face is still covered, and that means (Y/n) is likely to fidget with it.

Inside his mask, the yautja clicks questioningly, his mandibles and mouth starting to form awkwardly around unfamiliar words.

"What are you doing?" His voice always sounds unnaturally coarse to him as he speaks the human language, whichever dialect it is, the lexis unnatural to him as he forces his way through the question.

They look startled, but only momentarily, their eyes flicking up to the eyes of his mask, a smile playing at their face. He knows that expression - content.

"Oh, nothing. Just...Curious, is all." (Y/n) sounds so much sweeter when speaking their natural language, their voice running through the sentences smoothly and wonderfully.

"Curious?" He coughs up the word, stilling his hands on their back, lightly caressing his fingertips over their hips instead, careful to mind his shape claws; he can still feel the scar where he once caught them on their side.

"Yeah." The affirm, nodding.

"Why?"

They don't even have to think through what they're saying.

"I'm curious as to what you look like without your mask on." They inform him, shifting to lean up on their elbows, putting their weight on his chest, not that there is much weight. He could hold them up with two fingers, easily.

At their words, however, he has to take a moment to process them, roughly translating them in his head. As he figures it out, his body stiffen slightly, mandibles clicking together in consideration.

"You will not like what you see." Is all he says, turning his head away - he's not displeased with how he looks, but he is aware that humans are more particular when picking mates than yautja are, and his looks are not the norm for them.

"How do you know?" (Y/n) shakes their head, "And anyway, appearance shouldn't change anything in a relationship. It's not the most important factor."

Their response is encouraging to him, once he's deciphered the foreign words, but he's still hesitant. Inadvertently, he makes a sharper clicking sound, one of contemplation this time, but they just smile and lightly rub at one of his dreadlocks, sending small sparks of pleasure through him. Purring lowly, the yautja relaxes, enjoying their touch, feeling more at ease now.

"If you wish to see my face, I will show you." He eventually says, sitting up with the human still cradled against his chest, settling them in his lap as he lifts a hand to unfasten the gas tubes. Hissing sounds ensue as he plucks the tubing from its relevant inserts, his nerves sparking up slightly as he notices (Y/n) watching intently. Internally, he scolds himself for being weak: a hunter like him should not be so afraid to show his face to another.

Slowly, deliberately, the yautja reaches up and hooks his fingers under the lip of his mask, taking a firm hold of it as he pulls it upwards, clearing it of his dreadlocks and jaw. As his face is exposed to the light of the room, he has to let his eyes adjust slightly, unused to seeing in this light without his helmet. He drops the mask to the floor beside them, returning his gaze back to the human sat on his thighs, mandibles clacking together nervously.

(Y/n) is silent. Their eyes are fixed on him, roaming his every feature, his every scar, lingering on the powerful tusks jutting out from his jaw, their mouth falling open in surprise. Purring to help calm them, the yautja tilts his head to the side, keeping still as he waits for them to respond, his breath catching as he runs through every possible scenario in his head. They don't seem to be reacting badly, but they've stayed quiet for a good minute now, and that worries him.

"Holy mother of god…" They finally say, voice quiet as they lean back to look at him properly, eyes wide. A blush is quickly rising to their cheeks, but the yautja doesn't say anything - The red flush on human faces has never quite made sense to him.

"You are afraid?" He clicks, misreading their tells as he reaches for his mask again.

Hastily, they shake their head, mouth opening and closing as they struggle for words.

"No! No, I'm not. Quite the opposite." They laugh shyly, turning their head away as they shift in his lap.

Purring again, he lifts a hand and takes their chin in his grip, gently, like he's seen humans do before, tilting their head towards him, scrutinizing their expression. Their skin is warm to the touch, and their face is bright red, signs that draw a worried click from him.

"Are you ill?" He asks them, pressing his palm to their cheeks, trying to gain a more accurate reading on their skin temperature.

Surprisingly, they only chuckle, carefully pushing his hand away as they lift their own, hesitantly placing a finger on one of his upper mandibles. Gently, they run the digit along the curve of his face, tracing over the strong muscle in his jaw, marvelling at the power there. He has to fight the urge to nip at their finger as it draws close to his inner mouth, unable to help it as his tongue slips out in its stead, teasing at the appendage playfully. They giggle, cupping his face in their hands as best they can, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lower mandibles. Ecstatic, he purrs loudly, wrapping his arms around them so he can pull them flush against his massive body, his head ducking down to nuzzle at their hair, glad that they seem comfortable with him. His dreadlocks create a shield around them, and he feels a sense of relief and joy go through him as they return the embrace, small hands coming round to bury themselves in his black locks.

"You are not afraid?" He hums into their hair, still feeling some tension in the air, though there is also a new scent, one he recognises from other humans.

"N-no…" They admit, keeping their head down as they allow some nerves to creep into their voice.

Confused, the yautja breathes in the scent deeply, trying to remember what it is. After a moment, he figures it out, leaning back to look into their face. Naturally, they bite their lip and look away, face blushing a furious red now.

"You are attracted to my face?" He questions in surprise, mandibles clicking together.

It takes a moment for them to reply, their head nodding very slightly.

"Yes…" They confess, covering their face with their hands.

Elated, the yautja doesn't say anything, just pulling them in to nuzzle affectionately at their cheeks, remembering that humans often do similar things to show fondness.

(Y/n) giggles, hiding their face in his chest.

"Humans are strange." He remarks in amusement, cradling them back against his chest, running his hands over their back comfortingly.

"Yeah, we are."

#yautja #yautja x reader #predator #yautja imagine #predator imagine #alien

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bemylord · 3 years

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↠ toji with a virgin s/o ↞

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader.

warnings: nsfw, aged up, size kink [?], oral [fem!receiving], virgin reader, first time, lost of virginity, praising, toji calls himself daddy, grammar errors.

word counter: 3.2k

rq: I would like to request a oneshot? a hc would be appreciated too though. Toji with a virgin gf who can’t even make herself cum? Just how he would like to destroy her :)

butler's remark: (◕‿◕) hello lord, i'm back with an oneshot with toji being tremendously tender with his lover for the first time. in addition, reader is a citizen. sorry, i did it soft, bc i think toji will super-extra-super soft for the first time with his s/o, only for the first. i hope you'll like that, thanks for the request ;)

disclaimer: everything you read is purely my opinion - any detail, sketch, or event is a figment of my imagination.

you've been an ordinary citizen and had never planned to date a sorcerer or someone close to this specialty. you ain't cowardly, merely as you were thinking you'll marry a simple man and will have kids with him, and die in one day like lovebirds.

you had never considered yourself being stuck in a relationship with a sorcerer killer.

you were overworked, virtually sleeping as were walking in the empty street, dreaming to get home as soon as possible, to feel the silk sheets against your back. the area where your office was located had little street lighting, although, you hadn't felt the anxiety of being robbed or something worse. the day went lingeringly and horrible due to the boss who declared you as a temporary deputy, piled you up with a stack of papers.

but, this is life, anything might happen. all of a sudden, you overheard something behind you but as you looked back - there was nobody, as soon as you turn your head to the starting position, you saw a young, skinny man who is holding a knife in his hand.

'hmm~ look who's here, a young, gorgeous lady..' he said with his disgusting, lewd voice, coming closer to you. 'would you mind playing with me? don't be shy or els-'

you have a perky personality, no doubt, but because of how hard the day was, you had one option - run for the hills. before you could do any movements as if hit the man or run away, something prompt hit him, like a swift meteorite that you couldn't see. a cloud of dust grew around you and the man, so you hide your face in the elbow curve, covering your mouth with another hand.

as soon as the dust had settled, in front of you opened up on the view of an adult man. he was high, had an athletic, broad-shouldered, pretty impressive figure. your savior held the blade in one hand, flopped on his back.

'he ran away like a coward. don't worry, girl, you saved, thanks to me' he laughed, he stroked himself on the shoulder, as were about to leave the dead body.

'no i'm not! i'd have protected myself on my own'

you refuted his smugness, watching as he slowly moves his torso in your way, flaunting his outlining muscles through the fabric of the black t-shirt. his complacent eyes and the sharp scar over the right side of the mouth on the edge of his lips. you took a deep breath, continuing on your path as he isn't standing there, not hadn't protected you.

'you're too weak to beat even him, if not me, you'd be-'

'i am stronger as i may look'

he giggled, in a flash stood in front of you, bending over to your face, by finger tugs your face up to look at him directly in eyes, smirked.

'are you sure, girl?'

those green, almost emerald, but cold eyes looked directly into yours as two faces were as closed as you could kiss his lips.

'i'll walk you home'

'i don't want to, and anyway, maybe you're his partner in crime, leave me alon-'

previous to you had finished your phrase, he threw your tiny body on his shoulder, leisurely walking, better say, carrying you home. you beat his back, softly reminiscent of a parody of the word 'let me go, moron, i can walk by myself'

'tch, fine, idiot,' he deliberately shrugged his shoulder to close your mouth as heard the name you had given him. 'by the way, what's your name or you prefer the name idiot?' you said sarcastically.

'for you it's toji'

well.

as a result of your crawl and also being talkative when clearly you shouldn't be, you ended up being in a relationship with a man, who'd obviously fuck you on the first date, as it may count as a 'date', anywhere-anytime, by the way.

although you wouldn't ever say he isn't hot or sexy, conversely, you willingly allow him to breed, precisely you'd beg toji to breed you on the straightaway on the cervix, but for one thing.

you're a virgin.

hilariously - it's true. nothing bad to be in your age a virgin, but if you weren't dating toji it'd fine: his dirty jokes and lustful eyes which are maddening you insane, also his fucking athletic body which is outlining through the t-shirt or white cotton shirt [he wear it once] you thought he did it purposely: he knew your secret, undoubtedly could sniff your chaste nature as if you can emit fragrance.

on the second date, it had been nine days since you got acquainted with him, as you moved in with him. toji was exceedingly obsessed with every step of yours - he followed you from the work, in the mall or market, for your security and control every guy who'd be close to you.

although, you couldn't hide your addiction - he's a drug you should be careful with or you might be addicted as if you ain't. he isn't wearing pants in home, walking in front of you solely in underwear. he could walk from the shower in a terry towel wrapped around his torso as he buries his hands in his dark hair mess it up.

'what are you looking at, girl?'

you couldn't take your eyes off his bulging..

'you. just you. i'm gonna cook dinner, something.. special?'

'eggs, baby'

fushiguro put hands above the door frame, exhale and tensed every muscle, narrowing predatory eyes as you were the extraction he was target for. you're laying on his king size bed [lol i'm sorry i'm out], wondering is everything he has gotten measured in king size as he interupted your reflection by putting the knee on the edge of the bed.

'mine. in your pussy'

as if you're bewitched - you couldn't talk, just contemplate as he leisurely moves towards you. you couldn't contravene as he tugs your face to ogle in your absentminded eyes as you're avoiding his gaze, looking at the ceiling or door or even window. not. at. his. bulge.

your heart had stuck in your throat when toji ran his hand under his shirt, certainly, he has a kink of dominion, when he suddenly stopped. despite of your uncertainty and timid of subsequent play, you looked at his emerald eyes as he licks his lips with a tongue.

'are you sure, baby girl? i mean, it's your first time after all'

you quell your forthcoming question staring deeply into lascivious eyes, put hands on his massive shoulders. as you anticipated, his cock twitched as toji letting out a low groan in your ear, kissing your temple. you're absentmindedly running finger pads on his back, not knowing the proximity of bodies that are readiness wanted to intertwine together. not knowing how much it turns him on.

'stop me if i go crazy over your body, okay?'

as if. as if you dare would rip out his tongue off your crotch as he makes you his woman. toji left on your red cheeks quick kisses, took off the towel. you shut your eyes tight, still holding his shoulders barely squeeze them, letting out a hushed moan.

after you quelled your moan, toji touched your lips against his one, running fingers on your lower stomach to the cup of the breast without touching the hard nipple. light movements mixed with his muted groans. his pads deftly touched one areola as you emitted a sharp purr, arching your back a little as a dulcet sign for toji.

you dug your fingers into toji's back, as he put a finger on your hard nipple, holding himself as to grab your tits and clench it in his large hand.

you gasp for the air as if there was a catastrophic shortage of it due to the pressed body of toji. you responded at his deep kiss, wrapping hands around his neck, apparently begging for something more.

he pulled away from the kiss just to take off the shirt he has given you, baring your untouched by no one but him tits, leading palms onto breasts, skipping nipples between the gaps through fingers. he reached down to your lips to give a bit of warning kiss as he slightly bit your lip, kissing all the way down to your collarbone, finally leaving there manifestations of hickeys.

for how long toji has been stopped from leaving on your stunning skin his marks? it seems it has been absolutely not many days but toji, as you may see, clearly has to leave labels on your neck.

he dug his teeth into your neck, frantically wants your area to be dotted by him as a token for everyone meaning: she's taken, dude, don't mess up with her.

for how long toji has been stopped from touching your sensitive area as having been feel warmth and tenderness is emitted from your body?

toji squeezes your nipple imponderable, to make you feel some kind of power over you becoming submitted by toji fushiguro, a sorcerer killer, a man who owned you, spinning the pea between pads, making you let out whimpers.

'you drive me insane, little one,' he approached his face close to the breasts, touched your pea with his tongue cautiously, as not to frighten you away. 'i'm gonna make your pussy drool beneath me, completely own you as my little girl'

you feel yourself gush beneath him, burying hands in his messy hair as your breath has stuck in the throat as toji snuggles his lips on your tits, sucking your hard and probably swollen from teasing. fushiguro has made you became wet in your panties as he's moistening your breast, hearing your precipitous whimpers.

'toj-toji, i don't know-'

'tch, little girl, relax your body and let daddy do the rest'

as he pronounced, he moves down, leaving the trace of wet kisses on your stomach, massaging your hips, stopping his action to look at your red face. your chest heaves heavily every time you feel toji's silky lips on your belly as his finger pads caressing your thighs. as if something weighty is resting on your chest you take deep breathes, breathlessly exhaling.

'spread your legs'

you obediently did what he said, hesitating a bit as the only fabric holding him back to bury his mouth against your pussy, assembling all juices, tasting your cum as if it's his meal. he rested kisses on the fabric of panties, couldn't sate with tender kisses he spreads on your body.

deliberately run tongue on your labia through the thin fabric as you were about to push his hand from your crotch as toji grab you by the hips, pulling you closer. he slackens his teasing actions by kissing your inner thighs. as your cunt was lack of attention from toji, you let out a pliant whimper, approximately woefully have purred.

toji's self-restraint thinning as you're silently begging with your eyes and your hands immeasurably are burying in his dark hair. the tip of his tongue deftly sideline panties, flicked it, as he discovered a divine view on your drooling hole.

'stop me now, because i won't be able to hold back later'

teasufully kissing your labia and area around the place he should be playing with as anticipating for some pliant whimpers of you, deliberately showing you he'll lick that swollen clit, pressing a soft kiss on the skin instead. fushi's shattering your hopes of being eating every time he kissed literally everything and lick everywhere besides your hole and clit. he acts like an inexperienced teenager, notwithstanding, you know that toji'd ruin or demolish your holes like a monster.

't-toji..'

'yes, my little girl' he pressed the tip of his tongue on your clit, hearing those moans he's willing to listen for the rest of his life, then take away as you were about to press his mouth back again, digging his tongue deep inside you, although he obviously couldn't reach to your cervix, barely permeate in your hole.

'you want me to eat your little pussy?'

as if you can't talk, you nodded. scarcely reached up to take off the last thing, leisurely pulling down the panties, staring at you as a predator. toji is standing on his knee on the bed, threw your ankles on his shoulders, smooching ankles watching as to how your cheeks are becoming pinky, as you try not to look at his dick. still, you're a timid one, despite your words.

he reached to your face to give you a voluptuous kiss, returning to the starting position.

'look at your pretty pussy'

he kissed your clit in a flash replace into the tongue, making a circles on swollen and needy spot, decisively giving you what've been begging for. running the tip of the tongue on your virgin hole, leaving it for the dessert, returning to your clit.

you'd swear to god you can see stars in the ceiling as toji squeezing your nipples while moistening you. the proximity of his face in your pussy is driving you insane, for the days of cohabitation you understood he isn't a tender one, vice versa, he'd fuck you whenever his dick gets erect. maybe it's a rush of tenderness, maybe it's the fear of hurting his girl. nevertheless, you not scared to give toji full control of your body and bring you to your first orgasm by ripping the hymen. if that's i may call the way he's licking you, it'd be make-out with your pussy, due to his relentless movements by flicking his tongue on the clit.

'baby,' he pulled away from it, as you squeeze a sheet, making your knuckles become whiten as you spread legs wider, watching his mocking grin appeared on the face. 'i'll be gentle' he pressed his lips on your forehead, taking from the bedside table lubrication to low the friction. although, the thought of his dick ripped the hymen, putting all his tenderness in your first time, make your knees get shaken.

he put a soft kiss on your lips, smearing lubrication on his dick, substitute cock on the entrance. abrupt and penetrating pain wavily covered your body as you feel soft lips covered your mouth, blunting the pain with one hand being dug in your hip, painting illegible traces. another hand he put on your cheek, drawing circles with his thumb, waiting till getting used to the pain.

toji will find lots of red stripes from your nails on his back, smirked, as reminiscing about that special night when he made you his woman. his broad back was made merely for you to leave thousand and thousand fingernail impressions every night. toji had let a low groan as he feels as you move fingertips to the neck, exhaling in his chest.

he entered all his dick inside you feeling as your walls compressing the base, getting used to being full with his thick cock. you're indulging at the new, mind-blowing feeling, give him sheepish kisses as you're scared to be rejected. he moves his palm from the cheek to the ear, running fingers through your tangled but soft to the touch. you nudged your hips up, intermittently letting your breath out.

'tch, if you're not feeling well, i can come-'

'more, toji, more'

without breaking up kiss, he pulled out cock to the tip as pulling it again slowly, stretching your walls, touching with the tip your cervix as his balls touching your ass, groaning in the kiss, softly caress your thigh. you moved your palms to the shoulder, touching the musculature, going down to the biceps wrapping his arm as another hand attempting to draw patterns on the back as if it a canvas for you.

you can feel every vein, curve, and the way his tip is expanding gummy walls, as toji diligently coming in, adjusting inside you then pulling out. you're focusing on how full you're with his cock inside, your clarity gradually getting mushed as the sharp pain turning into a pleasurable and delightful feeling. sating to the new feeling might get addiction, but you're far beyond to accept that, surrendering to your lover as he gets addicted to it. you grasp for his shoulders, as he nudged in you, leaving whimpers from your mouth.

'like that, huh?' he pulled his cock out to contemplate as your facial expression have changed: you furrowed eyebrows as felt your hole being empty without thick toji's cock, practically purring like a march cat. 'beg me for it, baby'

what an insatiable man you've got. he licked his lips, looking down on it. your hymen has left blood, as he glanced at you to see his future wife your reaction.

'i-i toji, it's..'

he hummed, returning to your lips, slowly giving back the missing part.

'you okay?' you nodded as a response; he's perceiving fullness as wants to fill you up, but desperately be tempered himself, blaming he didn't wear a condom to do it. a dozen of half-moons will be littering your hips as toji's digging nails, scrambled your mind with squelches pushes in your hole. 'relax, baby girl, i'm here' he thrusts inside the spongy spot, ripping another moan out of you, voluptuous to his ears. 'baby~ you tease me with those moans of yours'

his cock was aimed at a place inside your vagina, with a slow but deep thrust skillfully reaching your cervix, massaging with the tip of his cock that spot. toji's staring at your pleased, satisfied face as he found that needy place of yours.

holding on to the headboard in the bed as support, clutching the sheet with his other hand like the composure he was rapidly losing with each thrust into your hole, formerly virgin cunt, letting out a heavy sigh, tilting his head back.

wiggling the pelvis backward and forwards as heard beneath his body your whimpers, feeling replenishment on his skin to his previous strips, losing remains self-control as your walls have been clenching his cock, as your body gets shaking as his, preparing the body for the coming ecstasy.

'toji, mh~' you tilted the head back on the pillow, wrapping legs around his pelvis, quelling moans while arching back against his chest. you're milked [? correct if i'm wrong] his cock, shuddering. you felt his lips on your cheeks, as he's covering your wet face in kisses, pulling cock out.

'damn, baby, probably-' he stroke his hard cock a couple of times before releasing his cum onto your belly. fushiguro ran fingers from the hairline, wiping beads of sweat from the hairline through hair. 'are you good?'

as you're still catching your breath you rested on your face a slight smile, closing eyes. he giggled, getting out of bed.

'almost made a baby' it took him a second or two, to lift you up in my arms, leading into the bathroom. 'i'm gonna clean you up, my baby. but you could fall asleep in my arms, you did such a good job by taking my cock' he kissed your forehead, wiping your drops of sweat.

'i love you, toji'

he put you on the washing machine, turning away from you to fill the tub. what went unnoticed was his relaxed smile after your phrase.

'i love you more, little one'

(◕‿◕)

↳ back to the main master list.

i feel i made lots of mistakes, like, idk. correct me if smth i did wrong.

i remember my promise to do one more work with toji, so lately i'll write hdc + drabble with him.

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mindninjax · 3 years

Text

Awake

Bakugo x Reader (duh)

wc: 1.7k

A/n: Had a full on mental breakdown yesterday. Tried to sleep tonight. Couldn’t. Wrote this instead. I listened to Rain Clouds by The Arcadian Wolf while writing it and it’s the song that’s referenced in this. I could link it but I’m lazy and depressed so I’m not gonna *dabs sadly*. Anyway here’s a comfort Fic I guess.?

Bakugo: Hey

(2:38AM): uh…hey?

Bakugo: You up?

(2:39 AM): clearly… clearly I’m up Bakugo. Why are you?

Bakugo: Can't sleep.

(2:39 AM): oh. I’m sorry.

Bakugo: Come outside?

(2:40 AM): like outside outside?

Bakugo: What other outside would there fucking be?

(2:41 AM): don’t curse at me stupid. I meant the balcony? Or are we going for a walk or something?

Bakugo: Fine. Nevermind. Forget I asked.

…

Bakugo: Balcony.

(2:52 AM): gimme five to put on pants.

Bakugo: Ok

(2:52 AM): folk or classical?

Bakugo: Ugh neither.

(2:53 AM): neither wasn’t an option shit head. Pick one.

Bakugo: Whatever you played last time. It helped me feel far away.

(2:54AM): Folk it is.

You put your phone down, the light dying and drawing you back into the darkness of your room. It’s quiet, you can hear him rustling on the other side of the wall, hear the balcony door slide open in his apartment next door and then shut.

You sit in bed for a moment, your heart the only thing thrumming in your ears as you take a deep breath. The city is quiet for the first time in a long time. There are no cars on the street, no sirens, just the sleepy lazy sound of the wind blowing and alley cats slinking through the garbage filled alleyways.

Then you get up, grab a pair of sweatpants and exchange the large holey t-shirt you’re wearing for a comfy but secure cami top. You search around your room for the little Bluetooth speaker and pause when your eyes fall on your acoustic guitar. You smile to yourself, it's perfect. You’ve been thinking about the song, the chords should be easy enough to grasp, and the words have been drifting around your head for days now.

You grab your phone to send him another quick text.

(2:58AM): Change of plans. The roof.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Bakugo: Ok.

He’s up on the roof of your city apartment building before you are, gazing out at the city lights , the moon in the sky blazing white shimmering light through his ash blond locks. He doesn’t turn around or acknowledge your presence when you land delicately on your toes and deactivate your air quirk. He’s wearing a red tank top, must’ve had to change out of the usual black one he wears to bed from all the sweat. His shoulders look broad and you can see the scars rippling down the muscles of his arms.

“Took you long enough, even with your floaty little air quirk,” he taunts, back still to you.

“And yet you’re still here,” you quip back, rolling your eyes and grabbing a crate to sit on. You pull another over and plop it down across from you the same time he turns to join you on the other crate. He has dark circles under his eyes, there’s still a gleam of sweat shimmering on his jaw and neck. He watches in anticipation as you ready the guitar on your leg and hook your arm over it, expert fingers finding the correct chords to strum a lovely tune.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, gesturing to the guitar. You smile down at the guitar, concentrating on the correct note in your mind to start the song.

“It’s a nice night,” you murmur, eyes still focused on the instrument on your lap.

The muttered “It is now,” is swallowed by the sound of you strumming the strings softly diving into the tune as you rock back and forth. You close your eyes and hear Bakugo take a deep calming breath in and out before you start singing the lyrics.

I'm being frightened by the people

They look at me like I'm a scar upon their perfect skin

Perfect to only them

I'm being shadowed by my past

Reminding me of what I was and what I could become

My sins should stay where they belong

The wind is blowing gently and you can smell Bakugo’s sweet scent on the breeze. His crisp pine scented body wash mixes with his smoky sweet scent and it almost feels like the two of you are sitting around a campfire. Your voice drifts dreamily over the lyrics, enunciating the words and basking in the ease of the notes while putting your own lovely spin on it.

Listen to my voice

Close your frightened eyes

Hide behind my love for you

Fear's only a choice

One that we all must make some day

So know you're not alone in this

It’s clear and strong like a bell, punctuating every phrase with meaning that sits in Bakugo’s core and makes his heart do that weird thing where it’s fluttering but also extremely tranquil at the same time. When you end the song and finally open your eyes, he’s looking at you incredulously.

“How do you do that?”

“Hmm?” you say, placing the guitar against a huge wooden pallet gently.

“How do you fucking do that? Every time. It’s fucking creepy.”

“You mind elaborating, dummy? I’m not a mind reader.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he grunts, rolls his eyes and folds his arms, pouting.

You roll your eyes before chuckling and answer the question you already know he’s asking. “Somewhere out there. Someone has made a song for every feeling you’ve ever felt. So I won’t take credit for that.”

“But you show them to me.”

“Yes,” you say this as if it’s an obvious statement.

“And play them for me.”

“Yes.” Again, another obvious statement. Why wouldn’t you play them for him. It’s why the two of you are here. Right?

“And make them….ya know… sound good and shit,” he says, stuttering over the words as his cheeks and ears start to turn pink.

You smirk, “You can say I sound pretty. I won’t tell anyone you said it,” you tease.

“Tch. Idiot.”

There’s a beat of silence, you’re lost in your thoughts staring up at the starry sky before you look at him again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’re going to even if I say no.”

“Correct. Why do you text me when it happens? Why me?”

He shrugs his shoulders, looks away sheepishly and doesn’t meet your questioning gaze. "Don't know.”

You raise a suspicious eyebrow, “Yes you do”

He sighs, holds out a hand to gesture as if it’s obvious. Why would you be asking this? Especially after the many nights the two of you have done this. “Just feels right I guess. And after we talk I can go back to sleep just fine.”

“You realize what that is right?” You lean in closer to him, elbows on your thighs, chin in your hands. “That’s called trusting someone.”

“Sure I guess.”

Another beat of silence and then a long winded sigh from you, one that definitely says “I’m tired of this” and it makes a shiver of fear run up his spine.

“Look Bakugo. I’m not usually one that skates around feelings. And as much as I enjoy late night jam sessions or sneaking out and gazing at the moon with you until you feel ok enough to sleep, I…”

He holds his breath, “What?”

“Hmm…” you have a finger up to your chin in the universal thinking pose.

His heartbeat picks up and his fingers start to fiddle in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Fucking what? You just said you don’t skate around feelings so what?”

You frown at him, “Hold your flippin’ horses I’m thinkin’ first.”

“‘Flippin’ horses?’ You’re such a weirdo.”

And now you’re glaring. "Speaking of thinking before speaking. You should try it.”

“Fuck you.” There’s no hostility to it and he knows you know it.

“Very original. ANYWAY, I was going to say despite your constant attitude and constant shouting, I still really like hanging out with you. So I’d like to not only hang out at…”you pull your phone from your pocket and gaze at the tiny blue screen, “4 AM”

Another pause as he processes his elation. He’s happy you’re not telling him this is the last time. But this isn’t the hard part. “Ok.”

You squint suspiciously. “I mean it.”

“So do I.”

“Then say it aloud to me,” you challenge.

This is the hard part.

He takes a few deep breaths and then… “I don’t wanna be just friends with you. I don’t know what any of that shit even means. All the stupid lovey dovey shit Raccoon Ey-”

“Ashido.”

It’s his turn to glare. “Fine, Ashido talks about all the time. All I know is no one talks to me the way you do. And I always feel calm around you. Calmer than usual. I always wanna hang out more with the idiots when you’re around to hang out with them too.”

You smile but hide it behind your fingertips. He doesn’t look finished so you nod to encourage him to finish.

“And I don't know what it is. But whenever I wake up from the fucking …” He doesn’t say the word “nightmare”. He struggles with it like if he says it he’s surrendering to weakness or something. “Whenever I wake up the only thing I think of is you. Wishing you were there, like a fucking idiot. But it never goes away, not until I text you and I see you and I hear your voice.” His head is in his hands, like he’s ashamed to admit this to you.

It’s quiet again, some cars from below have started bustling on the street. The morning wind carries his scent and the city's waking smells of coffee and fresh baked bread. You stand quietly and walk over to him, head still hanging in his hands as he crouches over on the crate.

You hug him, force yourself between his legs and wrap your arms around his head. And at first he stiffens but he doesn’t pull away from you or move out of your grasp. He just sits there with his arms hanging limply at his sides,eyes wide, and your arms wrapped around his head. His ear is pressed against your chest, listening to the city waking around you. You're warm and you smell impossibly good and he knows this is what he craves when he wakes up from those terrifying nightmares. Your embrace is the cure.

“I like being here. I like being there for you.”

Then his arms move up to wrap around your waist and he hugs you back and sighs into your chest. He stays there for at least 10 minutes listening to the steady beating of your heart.

And then he quietly mutters, “Thanks.”

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #marquie writes #yea it’s unedited #I just told y’all I was depressed #sheesh #idk what I’m doing anymore #I’m numb and empty 🙃

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battlemastercoffeeco · 2 years

Note

For more angst: does fennec ever get body dysmorphia bc of her stomach? Like she knows she’s not what she’s used to be, she doesn’t look the same, can’t even eat the same— she’s confident most of the time but sometimes late at night her partners find her staring at a mirror with a cold look on her face when she should be in bed

this ask got me all up in the feels, man 🥲 also got me thinking:

thus far, Paz is probably the only one who doesn't have some level of dysmorphia

like, we've got a trans character here; he has days where his body doesn't feel quite right tho for the most part he's gotten past that and is comfortable and happy with it

we have Fennec, who was modded (it was to save her life, but it was still non-consensual body modification). she passed out, probably expected to not wake up, then next thing she's got mechanical guts and all the complications that come with

we have Boba, who has lost his reflection, not just to time but to damage. he looks in the mirror and no longer see his father (if we're honest, that was always going to happen if he got older that Jango lived to be. but he could still see the similarities, maybe subconsciously pretended it was how his buir aged, too)

this was a really good ask, and definitely a topic I will be revisiting again bc its very relevant to Fennec's own bundle of angst (something i am obviously weak for 😆)

anyway, writing that idk how I feel abt yet below the cut 😕 I may scrap it entirely, or at least rewrite. def add more and more depth if I keep it.

"'shuh be'in beh..." Din says as he leans against the doorframe to the fresher. Fennec's eyes shift to his reflection into he mirror; sleep-mussed hair, face creased from being smushed into sheets or pillows or skin, eyes more shut than open. Din's arms are folded loosely, keeping himself contained and balanced upright rather than hiding, defensive.

The pose barely hides the age-faded scars on his chest, angled almost like echoes of his armor. Fennec's eyes trace them--so familiar and foreign.

"'s weird, huh?"

The words drag Fennec's gaze back up to meet brown eyes, more open now. Analyzing her, even half awake.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, glancing away. Her eyes catch on her own reflection again.

Din's sigh is soft and then arms are wrapping around Fennec, a chin settling on her shoulder.

"'s'kay," he mutters, head tipping against Fennec's. "I forget sometimes, too."

It's late. Din is still asleep enough he might not remember this conversation come morning. Fennec allows herself to settle into his arms, tilt her head against his cheek, almost a nuzzle. "How?"

"Mmh," is all she gets at first; the arms around her tighten, drawing her closer to the strong chest at her back as a cold nose tucks into her neck. A kitten lick, snuffling. A crackling, unpracticed purr.

"'s'like... a dream, I think," Din says, tone considering as his nose shifts up into Fennec's hair. She almost fits under his chin, like a child seeking comfort. Almost. "Sometimes... doesn't feel real. Like... like 'spect a'see s'mthn'else, still. Brain f'gets... body changes. Scars, wrinkles... changes." His shoulders barely shift, but she knows it's a shrug. "Y'r body'sa--a thing. Ship. Don' notice the dents 'til you do, 'n then s'all y'see. Flaws, faults. Self image... s'diff'nt n'a 'flection."

NOTE: this is NOT equating any dysphoria Din feels/felt to Fennec's non-con body modding. it's someone who has experienced brain-body dissonance to someone in the middle of working thru the same, and is reflective of some of my own experience. no one has the same experience, so if you personally feel differently, that's fine! you're welcome to discuss it in the notes, even. but don't come at me over this. this is me writing what I know from my own experience with both dysmorphia and dysphoria.

#ask&answer #feels #ouch #pazbobadinfennec #dinfennec #fennec shand #trans din djarin

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zuffer-weird-girl · 3 years

Text

A villain is always a villain.

LISTEN. THERE IS SO MANY TRIGGER ON THIS THERE IS NO HAPPY ENDING OR NO FLUFF I SWEAR IS PURE ROTTEN ANGST DONT READ IT.

"I'm sorry sir. But even with your quirk, your wife would suffer immense pain over the procedure and die on the bed.... and... my sincerity apologizes... but she's got only one week."

He couldn't exactly describe what he felt when those words from the doctor left his mouth and arrived to his ears. He didn't had even know when he had overhauled his gloves and the chair he was in making him fall on the ground and come back to his senses...

Everything... was falling apart. If he was only fast enough to get the symptoms appearing... he could have prevented, it would have caused you an huge amount of pain but at least you would've have survived.

Why hadn't he noticed it?

Because he was living his dream.

Because you two married. Had beautiful moments together... and just about one year and a half ago had a son. A health kid.

He was happy. He even talked about it with Pops, and the old man suggested for him to leave the Hassaikai for a while to raise his kid on a peaceful environment, but he refused. Knowing Pops hadn't had any contact with that good for nothing daughter of his neither the possible granddaughter he had. So he could give the man some of his immensely gratitude towards him.

But suddenly... everything was falling apart.

First it was the frequent coughing, even your baby was worried but soon you waved them off saying it was just a cold. Chisaki fooled himself on believing on that.

After all he was so happy.

Then, your voice started to change to a more forced and rough one. He started to worry but no, no... his perfect wife, such a angel, couldn't be on any danger... it was just a flu. He would take care of her.

Despite having germophobia, his love for you was just as strong. He wore masks and gloves, sure, but he still was willing to spend time on the same room and give you the comfort you needed.

Then it happened... one day on his office... he heard the coughing fit and suddenly a loud crying from hsi son made him storm out of his office to find you on the ground, a paper close to your hand covered in blood.

He never drove so fast on his life to the hospital.

And now... there he was, staring at the ground as he clinched on his wife's weak hand on the bed with the machines attached to her. His son, as innocent as ever was playing with his mother fingers.

The chemotherapy wasn't enough. The quirks from teh doctors couldn't help her, he couldn't help her...

The nurses came in and told that visit time was over... he had to drag his sobbing and crying two years old out of the room.

His tears were falling as well, but he had to be strong. He had to be the oen who had to be a pillar for his own child.

Pops had to be the oen explaining to Kan the situation and why his father seemed so sad and distant. The kid entered his office at night, sniffling and looking at his father's eyes with his (E/c).

Kan cried himself to sleep on his father chest, and Kai didn't mind it the snot or tears on his messed up black dress shirt. The documents on his desk were soaked with his own tears anyway.

"You're making a big deal about this." Your weak voice interrupted his memories and he scowled at your weak serene expression and smile.

"Dont. Not with this." He murmured as he watched his son give his painting to his mom... he wiped your tears away as you hugged your Kan, kissing his dark brow hair as the little boy murmured his love for you.

At the next day at the evening you let out your last breath and he cried and screamed on the bed until his voice was gone.

"You have to sleep boss." He heard Chrono as he blinked, the bags under his eyes were huge as he sighed.

"I can't. I need to go after those debtors of the drugs and then take care of Kan. He hadn't been eating very well since..." he couldn't help but almost choke up at remembering.

"... how about this? I go after them? Spend time with my favorite nephew."

"... you have some of my gratitude Chronostasis. Dont let the old man know about this, he would never stop talking about it. We need the money and the respect we need."

"Got it."

"And dont call my son your nephew. Is disgusting." He spoke while exiting the office as Kurono snorted.

"I am his godfather though."

He sighed as he hot upstairs and found Kan with equal sad and depressed eyes as his starting at a frame he held with his tiny fingers.

"Kan." The kid gasped and put the frame back and bowed to his father with a sniffle "... come on. I guess, both of us could use some rest."

Kan simply nodded and followed his father but was surprised to see Kai picked him up and brought him to sleep by his side.

He felt something stiring on his side and saw his son leaving the bed.

"Bathroom." Kan muttered as Kai nodded and got up only to stop at hearing "No da. I go, you sleep."

This kid reminded him so much of you with this goddamn kindness.

He waited a few minutes until he got up and followed the kid, enough to not make a appearance and give his son some confidence but he still had only two years.

... or maybe he just didn't felt like leaving his son alone.

But just as he entered the hall he felt something hitting the back of his head hard enough to make him fall face plant on the ground.

"Restrains his hands! His quirk can kill you with one finger of his on your skin!" He heard a voice and immeditaly recognize one of the debtors, and also someone caging his hands on a manner he couldn't even move them.

Must be some sort of dicease.

"Now, mister sucessor." A man with a missed tooth crouched down to his level and grabbed his hair to lift his head to his eye level "We could use some of negotiating eh?"

He only glared at the man before he muffled his scream of pain when the guy slammed his face on the floor hard enough to make a bruise.

"Cooperate with us and then we will get out of here. You give the drugs and leave us with our money with a bit of yours, and no one gets hurt."

"Go.. to hell-ARGH-!" Something pierced his abdomen hard enough to blood to spill and land on the floor.

This had to happened when Chrono had to get all the guards to collect cash and Pops on a damn convention, of course.

"Wrong answer yakuza. I'm gonna make it simple for ya, where is the money you all have?"

"If you think I will give you information..." he hissed at the knife piercing more "Then you must be just as dumb as your parents on the thought of making you, you sick bastard."

His head was slammed on the ground and it was enough to break his nose... just as the guy was about to slam it again a sound of a door creaking open made his eyes snap wide open and look at the figurine with equal wide eyes and clutching the door at seeing his father layed on the ground.

"K-K..Kan...." he eyed his son in fear as sweat and hives started to appear on his skin.

"Daddy?" Kan muttered in fear and the man was smilling widely at the sign.

"Oh? He is your daddy?" Kai started to throw his body around and tried to move but only could scream at his son to run but it was to late since the guy grabbed the boy by his nape. "My, those eyes you have.. are they from your mother?"

Kan trembled as Kai shouted profanities at the man as his helper held him down.

"..Hm. I heard that your wife died man.. rough. Being a single dad and the future owner of this big hellhole you got here." The man made two of his finger fuse and form into a sharp kinda like knife and cut the cheek of the boy, making the boy flinch and whimper.

"LEAVE MY SON OUT OF THIS. DONT TOUCH HIM WITH YOUR DIRTY AND INFECTED HANDS!"

"Then let's make a deal?" He holded the kid down and aproached the object to the boy's throat. "The life of the son of the woman you loved is more worth than some couple of cash eh?" He chuckled darkly.

He was about to agree until Chrono opened the door with the eight precepts and saw the scene.

"Fuck-"

"KAN GET DOWN!" Kai manage to shout at his son the house was filled with shooting and the eight precepts attacking the subbordinates of the debtor who had held his son captive.

Chrono shot the guy who was holding him down and he quickly activated his quirk to kill the man and get up only to his eyes to widen at seeing his son being dragged down by the debtor and some other muscular guy as the kid screamed for him and kicked his legs to try to get away.

He ran out and was about to slam his hand his hand on the ground without any gloves until he heard the shout to stop and his eyes widen at seeing the man holding a grenade up and his son caged on his arm.

"PAPA!"

"One more movement and your kid gets turned into pieces along with us OVERHAUL!"

He panted in desperation and raised his hand up.

"G... Give my son back." The man laughed as his sunglasses, in the middle of the night using sunglasses what a idiot, fell down.

"LOOK AT THE DESPERATION IN YOUR TONE OVERHAUL! IS PRICELESS!"

The sound of his laughter dissapeared when all four them heard sirens and sounds of heroes coming.

"Boss, I prefer to die than to go to jail." The muscular man mumbled as the debtor gave a little sick giggle before tilting his head at Chidaki, looking him dead in the eyes as he hugged Kan close to his chest and pulled the trigger of the grenade.

"See ya in hell, Overhaul."

"KAN-!" He shouted and ran but teh explosion made him his body slam back on the house, losing his conciousness and hearing only the buzz on his ears and the sound of.. Pops? Kurono? Calling his name as he blacked out.

He woke up with a groan and immeditaly put his hand on his face, feeling a nasty scar but then repairing it but soon widening his eyes.

"KAN!" He screamed and burst out of the room only to be found at the hospital he was starting to hyperventilate until he felt a old and familiar hand grab his shoulder.

"Kai you-"

"WHERE IS HE?!" He grabbed the man's shoulders as tears fell from hsi golden eyes "WHERE IS MY SON?!"

"Chisaki please-" the moment the elder went to speak Kai eyes dropped on a a gurney, small with a sick person dragging her to the morgue... with a tag wrapped around her wrist that looked like a child's... written his son's name on it.

"No... No. no no nO NO NO THAT IS MY SON YOU FUCKING IDIOT DONT!" he was about to kill the poor nurse until Pops grabbed onto him and made him calm down by force as the man howled like a terrible and horrendous beast.

"Kai... stop with this. We dont deal with drugs."

"Chisaki we have rules to follow. That's not how we work around here."

"Have you lost your humanity?"

... yes.

Yes he did lost it. The moment his wife and son were taken away from him...

He wasn't a human anymore.

He had one goal now, and he would make it real.

Even if it meant the yakusa, the heroes, Eri... everyone suffered just as much as he had.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha villains #overhaul #chisaki kai #kai chisaki x reader #bnha villains x reader #zuffer writings

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diaco1968 · 3 years

Text

Altair x Reader

Warnings! Smut, lemon, unprotected, a bit of choking, bit of humiliation, sounds a little dub/non con in the end

Note: I just realized I've written nothing for my first and longest crush, none other than the arrogant grumpy assassin! Sorry for the slight ooc-ness, I get weird writing about him...

Also amazing art! It's thanks to this, I've been visually crushing over this man for the longest time! *^*

Artist

"Wanna blow off some steam, Assassin?"

He could still feel your hands all over him, the feeling of your touch;

Your fingers running up his abs, tracing his chest, running over his shoulders, nails lightly scraping the back of his neck before they carded through his hair finally coming to a rest in a tight demanding grip on the back of his head.

It was unlike whatever he was used to.

The girls in the garden. They just did what they were assigned to do. Though they were obedient and submissive, they didn't claw at him like they desired him.

It was unusual.

It was exhilarating.

It was wrong.

It had been one of the rare occasions where there was a brief pause in the conflict between the assassins and the templars. A moment of peace that kept you all from jumping at each other's throats while their mentors and your commanders talked out their differences for a mutually beneficial truce. And of course they both had the option of having their choice of bodyguards accompanying them.

That was how he first met you. In person and eye to eye. With a distance of less than a rooftop, even less than a swords lenght, apart.

He couldn't get it off his mind now.

You had heard of him, seen the havoc he had caused in your ranks without even being seen. And he had seen you before as you barked orders at your little pawns and cut through his less experienced brethren with no mercy.

Always from afar.

Maybe that was the reason you colided hard the moment those roles were gone and out of the way. Attracted by the differences like day and night.

So when you cornered him alone with that very suggestion you were met with little to no resistance as you grabbed his collar and crashed your lips onto his. You demanded and you took as you pleased, making him bend to your will and despite his arrogant self, he liked that. He liked being wanted. The way you had him on his back in moments, straddling him so full of confidence. You were quite a skilled rider too.

Had him wondering if he had finally met his match?

Now as he stalked in the shadows waiting for you to make a wrong move, he wanted to take back. He wanted you. He had spent weeks being distracted time and again by the memories of your little encounter, now that he was so close to you again he couldn't help but drown deeper and deeper in his inner conflict. Thess were slightly different times, what if you rejected him? It would be so embarrassing... and he couldn't just kill you off if you did, that would harm the truce...

He shook his head as he caught himself thinking nonsense again.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent...

You were a templar though... did you count?-

He didn't have time to measure your innocence as your pawns left to do something you ordered them to and finally you were all alone. All his. Easy prey.

A hand wrapped around your arm, twisting it behind you as he pulled you into the alleyway and slammed you front first into the wall.

"You've become too dull."

"Have I really?"

That was when he noticed you didn't use your other hand to brace yourself on the wall. The little sharp pain in his side from the blade threateningly pressing into him was proof enough.

"You'd still die anyway. So, yes, you have."

He let go of your arm and you turned around to face him in the very little space provided by his arms caging you to the wall, teasingly grinding your ass back onto him. He of course suppressed the little hiss in response, not wanting to give you the satisfaction.

"You think I dismissed my men because I'm dull and not because I saw a certain assassin lurking around in the shadows?"

He narrowed his glinting golden eyes at you.

"You are bluffing."

You chuckled as you wiped at your scraped cheek to ease the stinging.

"What ever helps your ego."

You could see his scowl even from under the hood casting shadows over his face that complimented his features, as he loomed over you, completely silent. His sunkissed skin, sharp bones, haunting eyes, defined scar over his lips.

"You are in templar territory, what do you want, bird?"

His grimace at the nickname had you smirking triumphantly. Why did you have to know their language... it was annoying.

"Don't call me that!"

"But that's your name."

You looked smug and he didn't like that but you didn't have all day for the yarn of his ego to untangle on it's own. You reached up, slipping your hand inside the hood and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to you so you could whisper in his ear.

"Or do you prefer, Eagle? Am I your poor little prey this time?"

He could feel the goosebumps rise over his arms as he growled in annoyance, your voice rolled over his skin smoothly.

"If you were, you wouldn't live long enough to mock me."

"Flattering."

Your smirk widened, nipping the side of his jaw and pushing him off a whole step before he could react.

"Come, boy."

"... tch..."

Clicking his tongue he wondered if this was all worth it any way as he watched your form striding down the alley, taking his time before he decided to follow you.

To an abandoned building, top floors almost burnt away, leading to a giant hole in the roof opening up to the skies. At the entrance you grabbed his hand cause he was hesitating to step in.

He would have preferred more hospitality... like your own quarters maybe...

He didn't have time to ponder as you pushed him back on one of the few surviving furniture, before straddling his lap.

... a long wooden bench... in a burnt building with cold stone wallls...

"We're in a church!-"

You were already half way through his robes, heavily dropping the weapon belt on the ground as you looked up at his anxious expression, scoffing.

"And? Are you a religious man, Assassin?"

He glared at you but you had a point. He just didn't expect such disrespect from you. Were you not fighting as part of Richard's army?...

"You're shameless."

"Shame is a weakness. You didn't seek me out beacuse I am a weakling now, did you?"

You plopped down on his now not dangerously armed crotch and his hands shot up to grab your hips and steady you.

"Who said I seeked you out? I was just in the area for a job."

"Ouch... you mean you killed off one of my men and came to add insult to the injury?"

He paused as you paused staring down at him. Well maybe he didn't choose his words right. He wasn't good at lying on the spot.

"That's hot."

At this point he had no idea if you meant the things you said or if you were being sarcastic. But he didnt care as you started grinding down over him.

Like last time.

Oh hell no.

He flipped you, so now you were lying on your back looking up at him surprised.

"Not this time. You are mine now."

"Oh? Fine then, show me what you've got."

You almost immediately regretted that as the pit in your stomach deepened not only from excitement but from fear as his fingers wrapped around your throat tightly, nudging your legs apart to settle between them. As you let him discard your clothes, it was probably the first time it downed on you. The danger you were in. He could actually kill you. And no one would know. Kill you and leave you there disgraced and dishonored with no one to know where to look for you.

You wheezed loudly, clutching the wrist of the hand he had wrapped around your neck, your train of thoughts derailed as he unceremoniously thrusted himself into you.

His fingers left your neck, to fist in your hair instead, arching your neck so he had more room as his lips met the delicate skin, his stubble scratching you pleasantly. You grabbed the back of his neck, pressing his face deeper into the crook of your neck and he didn't mind endulging you, sucking and nipping on the skin, combined with shallow slow thrusts had you arching and twisting under him, trying desperately to get more friction out of him. He gripped your hips tightly, pinning you down and restraining your movements.

"I said you'll be good and do as I tell you to."

"That is not what you said."

"Don't test me, (y/n)."

He growled in your ear, his voice rumbling from deep in his chest and you were not about to argue with that as you hummed in response and decided to oblige.

He briefly pulled out of you, only to pull you up and dropping you on your knees on the stoney ground. With a hand on the back of your neck he had you face down, arse up and he plunged himself back into you groaning at the way you twitched around him eagerly with a loud wanton moan.

His other hand grabbed your hip to keep you from jerking forward while he drilled into you, completely different from his earlier pace.

"This is what you want after all. To be fucked like a little bitch with an important audience."

Between your moans and scratching at the ground in pleasure mixed with pain you didnt have time to wonder who, until he grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled you back against him so you were facing the old crushed cross behind the altar.

"...you fucking basta-geh!"

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, down your throat, deep enough to make you choke and gag around them.

"I'd watch my mouth, if I were you."

He resumed kissing your abused neck, fingers thrusting in your mouth, creating lewd wet noises and heavy moans.

You were close, he could tell. You were constricting around him so tight he almost released a few times if not for the way you bit his fingers angrily. But he wanted you to finish first. Wanted you to whimper and beg as you just couldn't anymore.

He sunk his teeth in your shoulder and that was it for you. A high pitched mewl and you were clamping down on him violently as your release shook you to your core, slumping over him as he slowed down ever so slightly.

Then he let you drop on your front and resumed his brutal pace, seeking his own release now, disregarding your half hearted protesting sobs.

It didn't take him long and he finished over your ass, panting heavily as he watched your shaky body, get used to the abuse way too quickly as you rolled over underneath him to shoot him a glare.

Awkward silence engulfed you both as he got on his feet and even helped you up with a hand and you both started fixing up your clothes and putting your weapons back in place.

This was not how it ended last time. The silenece made him wonder if he did something very wrong. If your little forbidden rendezvous had come to an end because of him. If it had, it was probably for the best but... he felt a pang of sadness thinking about it. Oh how he wished for you to open your smug mouth and say something. Anything.

"I think we can both agree, I am better off in charge."

"You wish, Templar."

"...well... yes, I do. That's the whole reason behind our ancient conflict, Assassin."

#altair x reader #altair x reader smut #altair x reader lemon #assassins creed #altair ibn la'ahad #assassins creed imagines

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clonewarslover55 · 3 years

Note

I'm back again! I was hoping we could see some soft Rose talking to Vau about his past and comforting him, please? ❤

Of course!!

Verda Tal Rose comforting Walon Vau about his past

Notes: Read Walon Vau’s early life story, and the thing I did on his homeworld before reading this. Both are on my AO3 and Masterlist

Also! If you have no clue what Memories is check out my AO3 and Masterlist!

Warnings: Angst, slight fluff, Mird helps, Nightmares, mentions of a bad past, past abuse, abuse scars, mentions of past suicide attempts, Walon’s father is a fucking pyshcopath, oh no Walon Vau has F E E L I N G S

“Your father will not be happy about this Walon!” The teacher yelled, dragging the young boy down the hallway. His hand was wrapped around his arm in a tight fist, it would leave a nasty bruise that would last for weeks.

Walon could do nothing but follow. He hated when the teachers brought him directly to his father for punishment instead of doing it themselves.

He stopped at his father, who was leaving some meeting room. The teacher huffed, dropping the boy's arm. Walon looked up at the tall man, his soulless grey blue eyes staring into Walon’s golden ones.

“Did he fail again?” The teacher only nodded, Pa Vau’s face curling into a sneer.

“Father, it was only by one question! I-” He was cut off by a harsh slap, “Did I give you permission to speak boy?!” His father roared, slapping him again.

Walon shot awake, sitting up quickly and panting like Mird after a hunt. He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking. He hated how he dreamed about his father almost every night, the old scars on his body and soul burning with each dream.

Rose sat up quickly, looking at her lover. He scared her and Mird both awake. She looked at his naked form, his body shaking harshly. She knew it wasn’t the cold sweat that was making him shake. Rose reached a hand out, softly putting it on his shoulder. He flinched aggressively from her touch before allowing it.

Rose didn’t know much about his past, but she’s seen his scars. She also knew he came from a royal background and money, but that was really it. Rose frowned, rubbing his back to help him relax.

She looked at his naked back, the pale scars running along his back like rivers. Whip scars. Lots of them.

He was covered in scars of all kinds, the worse on his back and his chest. No old scars were on his face, neck, or arms, at least not below his elbows. “Walon.” Rose spoke softly, gently grasping his chin and turning his face towards her.

His golden eyes were bright, the whites of his eyes red from tears and a restless sleep. She could see the anger and pain in his eyes, burning behind them like a huge fire. He was breathing heavily, his body quivering. He was always rigid with his posture, and just a tense man in general. But she had never seen his muscles so tight, it was like he was a wild animal.

She gently wiped some sweat from his brow, and Vau's muscles relaxed slightly. “Was it about your old home?” He nodded, his eyes flicking away from hers. He hated when she looked at him with pity, it made him feel weaker than he already did around her.

Mird whined, laying its head in Walon’s lap. He stroked its head, looking at it instead of Rose. She sighed and traced a scar that raised the skin on his collar bone. It seemed like a blade caught him there, as a warning perhaps.

They had only been staying the night with one another for a short while now. They used to part ways after sex, but things seemed to be getting more and more intimate lately. Every night he slept in the same bed as her, and he’d have nightmares like he always did. Some so bad that he’d wake her up by accident. Sometimes he didn’t and she’d wake up to find him pacing or exercising. She could always tell when he didn’t sleep, something in his past keeping him awake night after night. Leaving him restless.

Once he had stopped shaking she spoke up, “We need to talk about your past. I want to help you, darling, but I can’t when you won’t talk to me.” Vau sighed loudly, looking at Rose, his eyes now dull and sad.

He was silent for a moment, Rose’s warm and calloused fingers tracing the lines along his back.

Walon snorted, suddenly trying to act cold and detached, “Jango never told you where I came from? I-” Rose cut him off with a glare. “He told me you used to be a rich aristocratic bastard. Now don’t try to act all heartless, you know it only will make you hurt more.” Vau closed his eyes and sighed at that, Mird licking his fingers encouragingly.

“Well….The planet I come from is some oceanic shit hole.” He spat out the words like they were poison. “Old fashioned and run by religious leaders who controlled the nobles and military like puppets.” Rose continued to stroke his back, letting him rant. She had never seen him so emotionally exposed.

“My father was like….a lead puppet you know? He’s the Count of Gesl, and a religious fanatic. A man with far too much power.” How he spoke his voice had this harshness to it, sadness underlining every word. “That title was to be mine, since I was his only child, his only son. So from day one he taught me how to take his place.”

Walon still wouldn’t make eye contact with Rose, “Every day I had multiple lessons. The teachers were cruel, I was not allowed to mess up. I had to be perfect with everything, writing, talking, dancing, sailing, riding, fighting, and so much more.” He sucked in a breath, Rose frowning even more.

“My education was stupidly expensive, but still…...Every time I messed up I was beaten.” He snapped, Rose nearly flinching at his tone. “I was beaten over nothing sometimes. Whenever I was not my fathers version of perfect I was beaten.” Vau clenched his jaw tightly, tears causing his golden eyes to shine. He was a man that rarely showed emotion, especially ones as raw as anger and sadness.

“My father said I was not supposed to show emotion, ever. I was supposed to be a leader, and leaders don’t show weakness. They are harsh and ruthless.” He shook his head, snorting at his own words. He was using dramatic finger quotes as he repeated his fathers words.

“To prove this, to everyone, my family killed servants who messed up. It was some fucked up tradition. So He made me kill servants that made minor mistakes. I slaughtered my first servant at twelve.” Rose put a hand to her mouth.

“I still remember the poor woman…...A mother. I remember he cries and pleads. I….I didn’t want to kill her….I-” Rose shook her head and stroked his knuckles, letting him know he didn’t have to continue.

Walon was silent for a moment, his breathing heavy from the terrible memories. He changed the subject to his mother quickly.

“I never saw my mother besides at night when she’d clean my wounds. My mother made me emotional, I suppose, so father rarely let me see her. She was just as crazy, but she didn’t hit me nearly as hard as him. Father even beat her as well, so she was even worse about the religion they follow. Being a religious fanatic kept her alive in her book I suppose. It made her…….odd and paranoid.”

He let out a sad and dry chuckle, “She would only talk about the bible. Nothing else. I don’t think she was allowed to talk to me about anything else anyways.” Rose sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.

Rose spoke up while he caught his breath, his chest heaving with emotion. “So your scars aren’t-” Vau cut her off, “I was never hit anywhere people could see. I had to keep up my reputation of being attractive and a member of a ‘peaceful’ family. Along with some other osik.” Rose frowned, holding his hand in hers.

“I was never perfect enough for him. I wasn’t him, and he hated it. I wasn’t fully emotionless and psychopathic.” He sucked in a breath, Mird whining low in its throat. “He was a great military leader as well, one of the head leaders of my planet's Navy.”

He shifted, “He didn’t even let me join the Navy. Not even as a cutthroat. Not even after training for it or my whole entire life.” Vau shook his head, aggressively wiping the tears from his eyes. Rose shifted so she could look at his face again, wiping his tears.

“I was never good enough for anything. Ever.” He looked at Rose, a frown on her beautiful face. “I tried so hard to be perfect. When I succeeded I never even got praise. I think he just enjoyed beating me, seeing how much skin he could rip away from my back before I passed out.”

Rose shifted so she was almost in his lap, “Oh Walon.” She cupped his cheeks, staring into his golden eyes. “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, looking away from her eyes. She pressed a soft kiss to the scar she gave him across his nose so long ago, his lips twitching a bit at the soft kiss.

“He’s turned me into a monster. I-” Rose cut him off quickly, “No no no…..Walon you’re not a good man, at all….” He blinked quickly in surprise at that, “But you are no monster. You can feel emotion and pain no matter how hard you fucking try.”

Vau made eye contact with her once again, quickly changing the subject again. “I tried to kill myself mutiple times…. The first time was after I wasn’t allowed into the Navy.” Vau shifted from under the sheets, motioning at the nasty jagged scar on his thigh. “I tried to cut the artery, and I did. I was so close to death.”

He shook his head, “I was found almost immediately, blade still cutting my skin, and somehow didn’t die. It was the cruelest punishment yet, my father not letting me die.” He sucked in a breath, Rose wiping his eyes. “He told me that I couldn’t even kill myself correctly.”

Vau harshly chuckled, but it sounded more like a desperate and sad gasp. “I was fourteen.” Rose frowned and kissed away his tears, “Well I’m glad you couldn’t kill yourself correctly.” She laughed a little, tears in her eyes as well.

He laughed a little too, pulling her into his arms. Walon buried his face into her neck, sighing. He felt better now, like a weight had been lifted.

Many weights and chains still held his soul down, but having one less was a huge relief.

“Thank you…” He muttered. Rose could only nod, gently running her fingers through his black hair. Mird sat up, licking both of their faces as it whined. Mird always made them feel better, no matter what.

She’d ask about his exile some other time.

Walon Vau’s past would haunt him forever, his fathers stern lessons never leaving his brain. He’d remain ice cold, calm, and utterly detached. Afraid of emotion and afraid of failure.

He’d always remain a man with a shattered soul.

Tags: @valkyrieofthehighfae @leias-left-hair-bun @colorfulloverbatturkey @ahsokatano-thetogruta @peacefulwizardfox @hounding-around @julyzaa @feathersforclones @chr0nicbackpain @fyrepen33 @ct7567329 @mistflyer1102 @darmanfi @just-some-girl-92 @majorshiraharu @ravenpuff01@lightning-wolffe

#walon vau #walon vau x original characters #verda tal rose #walon vau x verda tal rose #lord mirdalan #Mird #mird'ika #Walon Vau and Mird #republic commando novels #Republic Commando

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artsyxloner · 3 years

Text

Not Just a Monster

Warning: blood, Voices

8: Caught

I sat on the toilet covering my nose with toilet paper as it bled heavily more than the last time. It just started right after Lecturing Suk-Hyun.

Maybe I shouldn't have been so harsh even though I said most of those things in my head. Which they were true so I have nothing to be sorry for.

And nothing could justify his behavior it was plain out rube and Selfish. After a few minutes, I waited for it to stop bleeding. Thank God, I didn't see the monster again I couldn't deal with the Hallucinations at the moment.

I had more important things to deal with like not getting caught. I soon I was about to come out of the restroom until I heard someone come in. Peaking through the crack of the metal door I saw Ji-Soo going over to the sink and washed her face.

She had touched her Makeshift bat that had Bob wire was wrapped around it. Like she was remembering something. " it's Disgusting to see you act nice." Eun-yoo came in leaning on the door.

" do you think a Freaking chocolate bar is going to suddenly cheer her up?" Ji-Su scoffed lightly as water dripped down her face. " I think you're giving yourself too much credit."

" so you are the crazy bitch around?" Ji-Su changed the subject. " watch your back crazy bitch!" She swung up the bat making Eun-yoo jump back.

She walked out the door, I sat back down thinking what just happened so they did not like each other? If they didn't it was known of my business anyway.

Waiting a few more minutes for Eun-yoo to leave I checked seeing it was clear I came out of the stall.

Turing on the Sink Fossett cleaning my face and neck. Making sure I didn't miss a spot. I got ready to Go out when I saw Eun-yoo in front of the door.

She smiled and walked up to me, " so you're the next one?" She circled me I followed her movement not able to say anything. Would she tell?

Mustering up the Courage I nodded, " yes, I've been infected for a while even before I came here." I told Truthfully, Crossing my arms. " hum, must be nice not having to be locked up like Hyun-Su and Suk-Hyun."

I knew where she was going with this.

" But I don't blame you." She went to the mirror to check her reflection. I didn't expect her to say that at all.

From the way she talked to Ji-Soo, " my brother is just going to use you if he finds out." I looked at her Weirdly he doesn't or didn't seem to be like that?

" how do you mean?" I asked Deciphering what she means by use? " you know making you guys do Dangerous stuff for other people." She shrugged.

I shook my head, " that's the only reason Hyun-Su got to stay." She Confirmed, I thought he cared about him? No, it can't be true then again I don't know these people well.

" are you going to Tell?" I asked as she made her way out of the restroom. She stopped her back facing me. " No, where's the fun in that? I get to see you slowly change into a monster plus it kinda cool."

She then walked away placing the headphones on her head again. I didn't know if I could trust her, everything she told me was it true they were just going to use us? Hyun-Su more in Particular since they know about him.

I should have known it there were people that in this world. But sometimes you had to get used to it to Survive. One thing was for sure I hope she kept her mouth shut.

Leaving the restroom I felt tired, from the lack of sleep I perceived and stress. I went over to the day-care- center to go take a quick nap. Laying on the small couch. Closing my eyes I soon fell asleep letting out a yawn.

....

" you know you want to!" My reflection spoke to me. Grinning evilly. I backed away not believing what I was seeing.

" what are you?" I breathed out scared. I covered my nose trying not to get blood everywhere. " I'm you but much worse." It giggled.

" This was you're own doing Soo-Nico, 'tsk tsk' I'm not the enemy here." That is when I started to feel funny like I was losing my grasp on my mind it began to fade.

Then hearing inhuman sounds I began to dash towards people for no reason.

....

I woke up to me hitting the ground, landing on my elbow. I cursed sitting upright rubbing my sore arm. Feeling something wet I wiped my cheek it was a tear.

I couldn't get that moment, day, out of my head. The day I attacked them, My family. Sniffling I crossed my feet taking out a photo of them from the field Journal I had taped in.

Me, my mother, father, and my brother, feeling more tears run down my cheeks I couldn't stop them. I missed their smile and laughs, the way Jin-woo would tease me about being a bookworm.

Bringing my knees up to my chest I clenched the photo Close to me. Hugging it as if they were here." it's not my fault." I wept quietly, trying to convince myself to not have such a burden on my shoulders.

I say this because I can't handle the guilt if I say it out loud so if I don't it's not real. Wiping my now wet cheeks my eyes probably looked red and puffy.

I reopened my filed Journal putting my family photo back in, deciding to take my mind off things I began to Sketch the new monsters I had seen starting with the one I first saw here the one that kept saying I can't see.

Drawling out its body, I soon put Details-down into it and some side pics of like when its fingers sprouted out like roots. I also wrote down its weaknesses and Strengths.

Then it was on to the huge monster I saw, I called it protein monster. It had a very creepy face when it smiled as its mouth was bloodstained. I quickly finished it up, but then one person came to mine.

Hyun-Su my pencil was close to the paper wanting to draw him. I felt my heart beating fast, if I did drawl him would it be wrong? Or just plain out weird without him knowing?

It wasn't because he was well a monster just like me or that's what they like to call us even though we are still human but I just wanted to draw him as himself.

Deciding to do it anyway I began with his eyes, they were big and round like they held innocence probably not but that's what I see. Next, I went to his nose, mouth, face shape, ears then lastly hair.

It was messy and fluffy but it seems like it wasn't always like that like he just had let it go. Shrugging it off I close my book and put it back in my bag.

Taking it with me because I didn't trust anyone yet I come out of the day-car-room and a man passed by me. He was smoking a Cigarette. One thing I noticed he had a burn scar on his face.

I haven't seen him yet before? Maybe I have but didn't acknowledge him. He was walking behind a guy with a deadly glare in his eyes. Deciding not to get into it I left I did trust the guy with the beat-up face he gave me the creeps.

#sweet home #cha hyun su #kdramaedit #sweethomeedit #song kang #sweet home netflix #webcomic #kdrama #kdrama spoilers #netflix kdrama #koeran #korean show #sweet home series #sweet home webtoon #monsters #fanfic

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magniloquent-raven · 4 years

Note

Number 73 "take mine" I'm thinking jacket sharing with Harringrove (either offering the jacket) if you have time!! 💖 💖

so. it’s not jacket sharing, i hope that’s okay!! and it’s actually a sequel to your first prompt? @bambixxblue and i were talking about a fix-it sequel where billy comes back and im weak for fix-its so i ended up with this. it’s. angsty. but also. soft? idk, i hope u like it anyway!!

basically the premise is billy and hopper were both in russia and had to break out together. posted on ao3

—-

Max turned seventeen three weeks ago. It’s hard to keep track of the days sometimes but Billy’s pretty sure he’s right. It’s hard to wrap his brain around Max being seventeen. When he pictures her in his head she’s still a bratty twelve-year-old with skinned knees who doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.

He tells Hop. Tells him about the birthdays he was there for, wonders about the ones he wasn’t. Cries a little too. Funny how easy it is to do that now. It used to be an ordeal, would burn and claw at him until he broke. He’s too exhausted for that nowadays, lets his tears fall unfettered and ignores the shame that still sneaks up on him when he does.

They have to be quiet, always afraid of being caught again. Billy’s constantly looking over his shoulder, jumping at shadows. It’s stupid to risk it, for something so trivial, but he can’t stop the words from spilling out.

“You miss her.” It’s not a question. Hop doesn’t ask that kind of shit, he just knows. Which is why Billy doesn’t respond. Doesn’t have to.

He pats Billy’s shoulder awkwardly. It’s the clumsy kind of affection a father is supposed to offer and it sets Billy off again, tears dripping down his nose and cutting streaks through the dirt smeared on his cheeks.

They’re holed up in an abandoned warehouse this time. Waiting. Always waiting. The plan is to stow away in the next cargo hold with enough space but in the meantime they’re fugitives, laying low wherever they can find empty, forgotten places.

Hop tells him about El while they wait. Billy’s heard most of his stories by now, but he listens anyway. Listens to the wobble in his voice as he talks about teaching El to read, hears the question under it all, about whether he’ll ever see her again.

Billy wishes he had an answer.

The first time Billy set foot in Hawkins, Indiana, he was seventeen, angry and wanting nothing more than to be anywhere else.

It’s three days after his twenty-second birthday the second time. An icy December evening, dark and windy. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t eaten in two days. He’s a patchwork tapestry of scars that weren’t there before, a battered effigy of the person he used to be, cobbled together with scraps of what he could salvage.

Hawkins is the same unremarkable, rinky-dink town it always was. Seeing it again is a relief and a punch in the gut all at once. It’s all he’s wanted for three years, but it’s terrifying.

They end up in Loch Nora, of all places. The Byers’ old house was empty, and going too far into town is risky.

It doesn’t feel real. Standing on Steve Harrington’s front porch, suddenly all too aware of the layer of sweat and grime on his skin. This place is too clean, too quiet. Peaceful, in a way that can’t be true.

Billy chews on his thumbnail, stands behind Hopper while he bangs on the door. There are no cars in the driveway, which means at the very least Steve’s parents won’t answer the door. But there’s no guarantee that Steve even lives here anymore.

He’s getting antsy, glancing around, heart pounding.

Then the door swings open.

Billy is seventeen, half-drunk and stinking like beer, colder than he’ll let on because fucking Indiana and its shitty weather, wiping the drool from his chin when he spots him across a room, already half in love by the time he’s clambered over a couch to get a closer look.

He blinks. He’s twenty-two, pale and shivering, thumbnail still between his teeth, and Steve Harrington’s doe eyes still make him weak in the knees.

Steve’s hair is longer, brushing his shoulders, but other than that he doesn’t look any different. Except that he isn’t looking at Billy with thinly veiled contempt or anger.

“Hey, kid.” Hopper says. “Gonna let us inside, or what?”

Steve is silent. Staring, lips parted. One hand still on the doorknob, the other slack at his side. He sways dangerously, and Billy tenses, prepared to catch him if he falls over. He doesn’t, but Billy’s still itching to touch him.

“Am I dreaming?” Steve blurts, looking dazed, unable to decide who to look at and ending up unfocused and hazy.

Yeah, it’s me, don’t cream your pants. The memory feels like someone else’s. A lifetime ago.

Billy bites down on his lip, battling an inexplicable, and slightly hysterical, urge to laugh.

“Dream about me often, Harrington?” Billy says, because apparently it takes more than nearly dying and spending three years as a fugitive to get over his inability to keep his mouth shut around pretty boys (or one in particular). Though now his voice comes out soft, quiet, betraying genuine sentiment. He’s not sure if that’s better or worse than the armor of taunts he used to cover that shit up with.

Probably worse.

Steve’s looking at him. Only him. Billy had almost forgotten how addictive that is. He watches Steve’s mouth open and close, tracks the way one corner curls up a little when he lets out a little disbelieving huff that isn’t quite a laugh. “More than you’d think,” he murmurs.

And Billy’s brain shuts off. There are a thousand questions stuck up there, but he can’t get a single one of them out because he’s too busy trying to get past, more than you’d think, echoing through his head in surround sound.

He’s startled out of his Steve-induced haze by Hopper’s pointed cough.

It seems like he’s not the only one, because Steve visibly flinches, “Right, shit,” he stammers, “Get—uh, get inside.” He ushers them in, glancing around, checking the street behind them.

The Harrington residence is one of those big fancy houses with more rooms than anyone could possibly need, but that means multiple bathrooms so Steve (as politely as possible) tells them they can both shower whenever they feel like it. And he fusses. A lot. All nervous hands clutching his elbows and teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek, eyes darting between Billy and Hopper like he’s sure they’ll vanish any second and never have been there at all.

Billy isn’t sure how to deal with it, so he avoids his eyes. Then misses looking at him.

An hour later they’re all in the kitchen. Billy keeps plucking at the sleeve of his borrowed sweatshirt, trying to keep calm. It’s too much, all at once. His skin feels raw, weird and tight. The overhead light is too bright, and the smell of Steve on everything is making him lightheaded. The soft detergent scent from his clothes, the shampoo Billy used when he showered (his hair is a lot longer than it used to be, it took forever to detangle it all).

Steve makes some calls. It’s late, too late to be calling people’s houses but he does it anyway.

Not long after, the front door bursts open.

Max is taller than he remembers. Rougher around the edges. Her hair is a choppy mess, auburn waves sticking out in every direction, curling around her ears, and there’s the sharp glimmer of silver in one lobe. She’s wearing a jean jacket with a torn elbow.

And she’s crying, messy and red-eyed, not bothering to wipe the snot from her nose.

“Where. The fuck. Have you been?” she sobs, shoulders shaking, and she practically trips forward in her hurry to throw her arms around Billy’s neck.

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Feels unsteady, like he’ll fall to pieces if he moves wrong.

“I’m here now,” is all he can manage. She doesn’t need to hear about military hospitals and Russian prisons, about being kept in a cell, wondering if he’d ever see sunlight again… She doesn’t need that right now. Hell, he’s not ready to talk about it. Might never be.

He hugs her back, torn between wanting to squeeze as hard as he can, make sure she’s real, and being terrified of breaking her.

She still uses that shitty coconut-scented soap, and that’s what shatters him. He’s crying into her shoulder, clutching the back of her jacket. He used to dwarf her, remembers her being tiny and fragile, despite her fierceness, yet now she’s supporting his weight while he buckles.

They’ve never actually hugged before, he realizes, and that realization opens a door he wishes he could’ve left closed a little longer.

Guilt. Like undertow, pulling him back to harsh reality, cold steel gripping his heart, weighing it down. He should’ve been better. Treated her better. And now she’s here, crying like she actually missed him, and he doesn’t deserve it.

He pulls away, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

She’s still looking at him, hands on his shoulders, a wobbly smile on her face.

Billy is overwhelmed again. It must show, because suddenly Steve is at Max’s side, eyes gentle and his soft mouth pinched in a frown, “Max. Maybe give him some space.”

She clenches her jaw, probably physically holding back an argument, and nods, stepping back despite the reluctance written all over her face.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says, barely louder than a whisper. Then he can’t stop himself from saying it, again and again, gaze fixed on the floor, tears still dripping down his chin. He has to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to finally stem the tide of apologies. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to will the world away.

“Billy.” Steve’s voice is soft. He has a nice voice, so Billy focuses on it, through all the angry buzzing in his ears. “Billy, I need you to nod if you’re listening.” He doesn’t want to, he wants to curl up and fucking die, anything but be a person right now because everything hurts and there isn’t enough air in this room and— “Billy?”

He bows his head, twitches, it’s barely a nod but it’s all he’s got.

“Okay, good. Can I touch your hand?”

Billy’s heart stutters, aches. He’s having a hard time concentrating through the burn in the back of his throat, the static drowning out his thoughts. He nods again.

Steve’s fingers are gentle, pulling Billy’s hand from where it had tangled in his hair. He hadn’t noticed the fingernails digging into his scalp until Steve took one of his hands away. It ends up pressed against something warm, soft material under his fingers, moving slow—oh. His hand is on Steve’s chest.

“Can you breathe with me? Concentrate on me, okay?”

He does.

Steve’s cradling his hand. He’s got callouses along the top of his palm, barely there but present. He’s breathing deep, calm and steady. But despite his outward demeanour his heart is racing, Billy can feel it through his shirt. He curls his fingers into the sensation, fingertips digging in as far as he can push them.

Billy almost forgets to breathe he’s so fixated on Steve’s heartbeat.

It does its job either way though, because exhaustion is starting to hit him as the static recedes. He sags, relaxes. Every muscle in his body feels leaden.

He opens his eyes, squints against the sudden light.

He’s almost afraid to look up. Afraid of being judged, of triggering another episode, so fucking terrified, all the time—

“Billy?”

His fingers twitch reflexively, tightening his grip on Steve’s polo.

“You good?” His voice is still so soft, and so close it hurts.

It takes several long moments for Billy to collect himself. Then he looks up.

Max is hovering, standing behind Steve with wide eyes, her worry palpable. Hopper looks grim, but then again, he kind of always does. He’s a respectable distance away, watching. And Steve… Steve is right there still, holding Billy’s hand and looking at him like he cares, doe eyes shining, fixed on Billy’s face.

“I’m okay,” Billy says, voice rough. He sounds like hell, but they all visibly relax anyway.

The room is silent for too long after that. It feels tense in a distant way, like it would be awkward if Billy had the energy to care, was awake enough to feel anything but vaguely fuzzy. He’s still got a handful of shirt and doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon. Steve’s the only thing keeping him upright, and he hasn’t let go either.

“Did… did I do something wrong?” Max asks, her voice is small and tremulous and cuts right through Billy.

“No!” he’s quick to cut in, “No. Max. It’s…” Billy trembles, stutters to a stop. He has no idea how to explain, even to himself, let alone Max. Steve squeezes his hand. His stomach flips. “It’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t look like she believes him, but she doesn’t argue. He wishes he could make it better, but he’s got no idea how.

“We should all get some sleep,” Steve says.

And that’s that. His tone brooks no argument, even in a room full of stubborn assholes. Apparently, the past few years have given Steve time to hone his babysitting skills. Or maybe they’re all just as exhausted as Billy is.

There’s some squabbling about sleeping arrangements though.

Everyone insists Hopper take the master bedroom, Steve says his parents won’t know or care, his old friends did worse than sleep in that bed. They all poke at him until he relents and trudges off, bidding them a quiet goodnight.

Then Billy says he’ll take the couch and both Steve and Max yell at him.

Billy rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, guys,” he mutters. He’s not about to make Max sleep on the weird little couch (he’s done enough to her already) and putting Steve out in his own house would be shitty. “It’s not like I haven’t slept on worse.” He winces as he says it, realizing as the words come out of his mouth that it’s probably the wrong thing to say. It was meant as a reassurance, that he would in fact be fine with the couch, because at least it’s clean and warm, but all it does is make Max look sad and put a little wrinkle between Steve’s eyebrows.

“I’ve slept on this couch before,” Max says, a stubborn tilt to her jaw, “I’ll take it.”

Steve scoffs at that, “You complain every time you have to sleep on that couch, Max. Take the guest bed. Billy can take mine.” His fingers tense when he says it, and Billy realizes they’re still holding hands. His hand slipped from Steve’s shirt while they were bullying Hopper into taking the master suite, but Steve has yet to let go.

And… suddenly he wants nothing more than to sleep in Steve’s bed. But. “Only if you come with me,” he blurts.

Which is really not how he should have said that, but it’s out there now.

“Oh my god,” he hears Max mutter.

His whole head feels like it’s on fire. “Shit. I—I mean—”

“Okay,” Steve says hurriedly, then clears his throat, “Yeah. That. That works. Uh. Okay.” He’s glancing at Max awkwardly, nervous, but she just rolls her eyes. Billy barely notices her do it, too busy looking at Steve, his heart hammering.

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m—” It’s her turn to look uncertain, but it’s only for a second. “Me and El are dating. We’ve been trying to figure out how to tell everyone, and—yeah. Anyway. I’m not going to judge you, or whatever.”

Well, that was not at all what Billy was expecting. He takes a moment to worry about both of them, be terrified of what would happen to them if someone found out. Then he remembers that El can kill people with her brain and Max once threatened to castrate him with a spiked bat. The knot of anxiety doesn’t dissipate but he’s freaking out less.

“How long has that been going on?” Steve asks, sounding more bemused than anything.

Max turns pink, and it’s kind of fascinating to watch. She’s flustered. That’s adorable. “Since, um. Since April.”

“Happy for you, kid,” Billy says. And he means it. He barely knows El, in theory, but really. The kid’s been in his head. He could recite every story Hopper’s told him about her from memory. He died protecting her.

He knows her well enough to know she’s good for Max, and he loves Max enough to want her to have good things.

She grins, bright and real. Billy’s fairly certain he’s never seen her that happy before, and his heart clenches.

“I’m not sure who I’m supposed to give the shovel talk to here,” Steve says, more to himself than anything.

Billy snickers, and tugs on Steve’s hand, “Like you could take either of them.”

Steve steps closer, looking faux-offended, “I’ll have you know I won a fight once.”

“Yeah, three years ago. You’re a has-been, Harrington,” Max chimes in.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I’m seventeen, dingus.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

He missed them so much. Missed something he, if he’s being honest with himself, never really had in the first place. They both hated his guts before, and he… he was a mess. Still is. Just a different kind now. But being here, being part of this, is something he always on some level wanted and…

“Oh my god, Billy, are you okay?” Max asks, concern bleeding into her voice.

He’s crying again, smiles through the tears. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #harringrove fic #a raven's writing desk #i kind of want more to this #like #el didn't even SHOW P #UP*#but it's almost 2am #rn #and #this is already so long lmao

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mfbakuhoe · 4 years

Text

🌸Bnha //Heroes cry too// HEADCANON🌸

Characters: Todoroki Shoto, Bakugo Katsuki

Summary: Basically just these two cutiepies crying :(

A/N: I made this before I watched the episode where Izuku cries and Todoroki says it‘s ok to cry even as a hero. Seems like Horikoshi and I share the same opinion ^^. Also i was way to lazy to finish it up with Midoriya‘s part so please forgive me🥺🤲

Enjoy!

____________

Todoroki:

🥶🥵 Your boyfriend Todoroki visited you in your dorm room as usual, watching you get ready for bed.

🥶🥵 He sat next to you, while you were looking in the small mirror, smearing all kinds of skin care products on your face

🥶🥵 Even if he always told you, you don't any off those products, because you're already beautiful, he was very interested. Not just because of you, but more, because he was looking for something, to help him with his insecurity. Todoroki eagerly grabbed a few tubes here and there, reading the packeging to know what the things you use are exactly for. Although one explenation didn't really satisfy his cluelessnes.

🥶🥵,,Y/N, what is this thing here for?, he asked holding a tube towards you.

🥶🥵,,That's a hella expensive Trinique acne scar ointment. It's supposed to help scars to fade away. I'm not really sure if it works tho.'', you explained, as you turned to the white and red haired boy, who scanned the tube in his hands.

🥶🥵 It was silent for a second. You continued your little routine, not further thinking about it.

🥶🥵 ,,Do you thnk, it'll make that thing in my face go away?'', he suddendly asked, dropping his head a little bit

🥶🥵 Surprised you tensed up not sure what to say. You knew the burn mark his mother gave him, made your Boyfreind really insecure. Not because he thought it looked bad, it was more because of him constantly being reminded about his past. Reminded about the pain and struggle he had to go through. It was a very sensitive topic, as why you knew not to talk about it, unless he wanted to.

🥶🥵 You sighed saddly, as you turned to Todoroki, who kept the tube tightly in his hands. A small tear rolled down his cheek, landing on the tube.

🥶🥵,,Listen to me, Shoto'', you said with a soft but serious voice, placing your hands on each of his thighs ,,You wanna know something?'' He stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

🥶🥵,,As much as you might hate the scar on your eye, I love it. I love it so much, you might think. I'm dumb. Since the very first moment I acknowledged the mark, I knew you were a fighter. I could see you've been through up's and down's but nobody was able to stop you from being who you wanted to be. Your mark subconsciously works as sign to all the people, who like to say stupid stuff like ,,Oh he has major perks, because he's Endeavor‘s son'', telling them ,,No, I fought my ass up here with my own strengh, no matter what obstacle I had to face.''. In my eyes this thing in your face is a beauty mark, a trophy, only a strong fighter and hero could proudly wear. This mark is your daily reminder, telling you wehere you started from and how much you had to take in to truly deserve where you‘re at right now. And your journey will surley continue! Wear this mark with pride, because that's what I am. I am proud of you Shoto."

🥶🥵 His Body was shaky and tensed. You could hear him whimper, trying to hold back the tears, before he jumps into your arms, thightly grabbing the back of your shirt.

🥶🥵 You rubbed his back assuring him everything was alright, as you listen to him leaving small sobs into the crook of your neck.

🥶🥵 You rest in this psoition for a while you soon offering him to sleep in your dorm for the night

🥶🥵 You two cuddled yourselves up in your bed, sharing each others body warmth, before you fell asleep.

🥶🥵Although before you drift off into your dream world you feel a small kiss being placed on your forhead followed by a small whisper ,,Thank you so much Y/N. Thank you for everything."

🥶🥵 Too weak to answer, you just smiled satisfied, knowing he wouln't see it anyway, before completely losing conciousness, as yo finally fell asleep.

Bakugo:

💥,,I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING TALK TO HER, DEKU!''

💥 Bakugo yanked you by your arm towards him, making you squeal in surprise.

💥,,Ouch, Suki! Are you crazy? Why are you acting like that?''

💥 You sent a excusing look towards Midorya, who responded with a weak smile, before Bakugo pulled you to his room without a word, lightly pushing you inside.

💥,,Katsuki, what the hell is wrong with you, huh? I know you dislike Midoriya a lot, but there was no need to be so agressive towards me!''

💥,,I told you not to be around him so much, baka!''

💥,,I only congratulated him really quick, because he got his temporary hero license! No need for you to go off like that."

💥 Bakugou stared at cold to the floor. His sudden calm behaviour even scared you a little.

💥,,His liscense, huh? Isn't it always the fucking same? Deku here, Deku there! Even All Might is sucking on his tiddy. HE PISSES ME OFF SO MUCH!'', he screames kicking his books to the floor. ,,HOW THE FUCK DID HE DO THAT? WHAT MAKES HIM THINK HE'S BETTER THAN ME? WHAT EVEN MAKES HIM BETTER , THAT ALL MIGHT PICKS THIS WEAKLING OVER ME?''', he continues outbursting, as he fell on his knees supporting himself with his hands on the floor. He looked weak and exhausted, what terrefied you a lot.

💥You've heard Bakugo complain about Midoriya Kun a lot before, but it was never to this extend. You can hear him heavy breathing, on the edge to loose all the control over himself and cry. But Bakugo is way too stubborn and proud, just to expose his weakness to another person like this.

💥Worried you rush towards him, kneeling across from him, as you muster the ash blonde eccentric. Yeah, he is probably super upset about Midoriya, but you knew there must've been something else tearing the young hero apart from the insie.

💥You lightly pull his head into your arms, his forehead resting against your shoulder

💥,,What the fuck am I doing wrong? If I only was stronger back then, our symbol off peace would still be alive. My symbol of peace. My hero. I fucking killed All Might and I will never forgive myself for that", he mumbles against your shirt, as you felt him fighting back the tears.

💥,,You should know, that you are in fact very strong. Strong for letting me know about how you feel, although feelings aren't something you like to talk about. Katsuki, you are one of the strongest and most dedicated people I've ever seen. You never let anybody stop you from chasing after what you desire the most and end up reaching your goal.‘‘, you paused while gently caressing his head. Bakugo didn‘t say anything, making clear he wanted you to continue, ,, I mean look at me, I hated you the most but you made me a soft dumpling for you", you giggled, feeling Bakugou sliding his arms ournd your waist. ,,I won't try to tell you something, All Might didn't tell you already, but I am assuring you that you're nowhere near weak! You are my hero, Katsuki. Please never forget that.''

💥Tears build up in your eyes, as he let's out a scream of frustration and pain. Your heart was aching because you knew that the oh so confident and strong boy you loved more than anything was paining so much, without you knowing it.

💥,,I'm so sorry, that you had to bear this all alone, Suki'', you mumlble against his hair. Minutes passed of you guys resting in this position as you soon felt him calming down under your grip.

💥You playfully placed a thick kiss against his cheek releasing a loud ,,Mwah'' just to see jokingly wipe it away in disgust.

💥,,I thing heroes deserve a little more than lame ass cheek kisses'', he grins cockily as if nothin ever happened.

#boku no hero academia #bnha midoriya #mha izuku #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #my hero academia #boku no hero manga #bnha spoilers #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha todoroki #todoroki shouto #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha deku

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fexalted · 6 years

Text

@asdmabel said: MULTIPLES!!! OF!!! THREE!!! MULTIPLES!!! OF!!! THREE!!! MULTIPLES!!! OF!!! THREE!!!

hahaha why am i not surprised

posting it like this bc readmores on ask posts sometimes don't work on mobile? and this is gonna get super long, so (also warning for talk of self harm / child abuse)

3 is a fic where ford, post-bill betrayal, uses the copy machine to make a clone of himself that can perform the surgery to put the metal plate in his head. it's in 2nd person (bc i'm incapable of writing anything else), and in the clone ford's pov

Ford opens an eye, squinting against the overhead light. You shut it off so he doesn't have to strain to see you, and he blinks groggily, taking in the room around him with a bleary gaze before settling on you.

You're about to tell him that the surgery went well, everything is fine, he's going to be okay, but Ford speaks before you do, shattering what little composure you have with one word.

"Stanley?" he breathes incredulously, his voice weak and cracking.

You're not sure if you have a heart anymore but you feel like it just stopped regardless. He's delusional, clearly the anesthesia hasn't worn off completely yet, and he's mistaken you for your—his—brother.

"I... I'm—" you start to explain, but stop suddenly. Ford's eyes are hazy and unfocused but hopeful, and you find you can't take that hope away so quickly. You might as well let one of you believe that Stan is actually here for you.

So you clear your throat and put on your best impression of Stan. Which, admittedly, is not very great; you're a little out of practice.

"Y-Yeah, Ford. It's me. It's Stan."

"Stanley," he says again, softer this time, more like a sigh. He reaches out for you and you flinch back, jerking your hands away instinctively before he can notice the number of fingers on them, and his face just crumples.

6 is the note of cut parts from other fics! which means i get to share the original ending i had started writing for make me believe again!! :D

...which i maybe shouldn't be so excited about, considering the subject matter, oops. in the initial draft of the fic, stan had also self-harmed in the past, and this ending was attempting to address that. i didn't get super far with it bc it was giving me some hard mood whiplash and i couldn't figure out how to fix it, but here it is anyway

"Hi, I'm Steve Pinington! Are you sick of bandages that are hard to remove? Then what you need is the Rip Off!"

You turn to Stanley, eyebrow raised, your expression a cross between confused and amused. "Steve Pinington?"

"Look, I uh, I couldn't use my real name, okay?" he explains, rubbing the back of his neck as his face and ears turn red with embarrassment. "Anyway they're not even supposed to be playing this anymore!"

"Please tell me that mustache is fake."

"Unfortunately, it isn't."

"Oh my god," you say, unable to stop a laugh from bubbling out of you. "How is that thing real? You couldn't even grow peach fuzz when we were teenagers!"

"Yeah, well, a lot of things have changed since then, haven't they?" Stanley snaps, and your laughter dies instantly. "Sorry," he adds a second later. "Just wasn't really in a good place back then."

You bite your tongue, your heart sinking. He wasn't just embarrassed, he was uncomfortable, and you just made things worse. And right after the two of you had started to truly patch up your relationship, no less!

You guess you both have more to talk about than you thought.

And you know you shouldn't ask what kind of place he was in then, but you're concerned and you need to make things okay again and he's rubbing at his arms and if you don't ask now you never will, so—

"Stanley," you start, hesitantly. "You don't have to answer this, but... The scars, on your arms. Are they...?" You can't seem to get out the final words, but thankfully he seems to get where you're trying to go.

"Some are from fights," he says. "A lot are, actually. You make more enemies than friends when you owe money to the wrong people. But, uh, some of the scars... I made."

Your heart shatters. "Stan..."

"I stopped, though!" he says quickly, before either one of you gets too emotional. "I stopped. I've been good about it, too. It's why I don't hide 'em. Feels like it helps to see how much they're healing or somethin', I dunno. Thought it might help you to see 'em, too. To know you're not alone, y'know?"

"I think seeing them has worried me more than anything, honestly," you say. "But I appreciate the thought behind it. I'm glad you're doing better."

"Right back at ya," Stanley says.

You don't ask him why he hurt himself. You don't really need to guess.

9 is a fic about stan and his conflicting feelings about filbrick (aka, the fic where i throw all my own dad issues). it's a bit of a mess bc i rarely have the energy to write in it so let's just skip to the end where ford gives stan a hug

"It wasn't your fault," Ford says. "You were just a kid, Stan. You didn't deserve any of that, and I'm sorry."

"Oh," you choke out, and you think you're crying? Your hands are shaking and there's a lump in your throat and your vision is blurring and yep those are definitely tears on your face. "Oh," you say again. Welp, this is embarrassing. You quickly try to scrub the tears from your eyes so you can save face in front of your brother, but Ford takes your hands and pulls you into a hug instead.

"I'm sorry," Ford says again, voice wobbling slightly. "I should've stood up for you back then. I should've protected you like you always protected me."

"That's—" you sniffle against Ford's shoulder, which is rapidly becoming soaked because of you. "That's not your fault, either. You were just a kid yourself. You got your fair share of it too."

"I know," he says. "I just..."

"It's okay."

"It's really not."

You try to laugh and end up making some sort of pathetic sob, half-stifled and choked off before it can escape your throat. Another sob slips out before you can hold it back, then another, and then you're all but bawling like a baby into your brother's sweater, while Ford rubs your back in gentle circles and you cling to him with a tight, trembling grip.

and last but not least, 12 is my brain trauma au fic, which i've already sent you a very stan-focused part of, so here's a smaller, still stan-focused bit (i promise this fic is actually about ford at least half the time shdksjdk) that i am very happy with

So maybe your grip is a little too tight when you take hold of both his hands, and maybe your voice is a little too loud and panicked when you tell him to look at you and breathe, but he listens, and he looks, and he breathes. And you grab his glasses and the two scrapbooks off the nightstand, and you flip through the pages together in silence.

And by dawn, the look of blank fear in your brother's eyes has been replaced by exhaustion and guilt and shame. He slumps against you, forehead pressed to your collarbone, and through the cracks in his voice come whispered apologies—for waking you, for scaring you, for forgetting you—and you drape a protective arm around his shoulders and shush him and tell him it's alright. He remembers again, and that's all that matters.

You have weathered your first storm at sea.

#there's a lot of words in here so i hope that makes up for me not having posted any fics in nearly a year hahahah #fex replies #asdmabel

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lordnochybaty · 7 years

Note

"Don't worry, I'm right here, and I'm not leaving" for James/Thomas :)

Okay, this is not only super late (sorry!) but it also got super angsty somehow. Like, seriously, it’s so angsty that if you want a do-over you can pick another prompt. XD Though I don’t promise it will be less angsty.

Hope you enjoy anyway? And thanks for the prompt. I had fun angsting myself.

Also on AO3

They’ve been in this house for a month. It seems abandoned, no one bothered them here, no one followed them so far. They tried not to come out much during the day, still hiding and waiting for the possible pursue. Thomas carefully did not think of this house as theirs, as a house that could possibly become theirs, just like he did not think of any previous hide-outs as anything permanent. He greeted the sight of every new place with curiosity and joy at finally being able to see more of the world, but never with the hope that this might be his to see for years to come. Hope was important, but it needed to be the quiet, persevering kind, not the one bursting at every possibility, getting attached too quickly. Thomas before his imprisonment never thought there was a difference and how important the distinction was.

Now, after a month spent in the house, the hopeful thoughts started seeping into his mind and he let them.

It was not too big of a house, it would suit the two of them and there was enough place for the second bedroom for the sake of propriety or guests.

The orchard seemed highly neglected, but still showing some promise. Thomas could hardly bare the thought of working in the field again, but the idea of growing something was a tempting one. And surely they would need some sort of income… And something to do as well… People always cast less suspicion on those who were busy with an honest job.

The city was close enough to be of use but far enough to not disturb them.

They could have a life here, he thought as he let the more mundane hopes go through his mind. Where he would put the bookcase. How they would need a table in the main room. That they could probably get a horse and how he hoped James knew how exactly to buy one. Thomas’ experience with working horses was thin at best. His experience with buying one even worse.

His thoughts plummeted down the path of how little he really knew about the life of a free man who was not supported by his family’s money.

He learned a lot in the last decade. Things he never thought he would be able to do. He could work on the field. He could cook well enough not to starve, even though his repertoire of dishes was rather plain and his sense of measurements more adjusted to cooking for thirty men rather than two. He learned far more about the human nature in general and his own as well. The sure certainty that one only can know oneself through what he’s been through was engraved in his scars and callused hands. And yet now, finally free, he felt as lost as a child once again.

He had no idea how much anything cost, he could be cheated twice over. He almost forgot how to talk to people and not seem like someone from an entirely different part of the world or at least different part of the society. He had no idea how to blend in and while it might’ve been an entertaining tale, when he tried to dress as a commoner so James’ could give him a proper tour of London, now it seemed less thrilling and more terrifying.

Left to his own devices he would be found or killed within days. If he lost James-

He stopped his thoughts immediately with the strength well practiced over the years.

He gasped for air, sliding down the wall to sit curled up in the corner of the main room, feeling as if he was drowning. As if he was diving deeper and deeper with every step he took from the plantation and finally there was no air for him at all and no way he could run back fast enough to survive. His insides turning, twisting as he gasped for air, trying to control it and waiting for it to pass.

The sky turned gray with the first lights of the morning when the spell started to fade. He laid on the floor, panting as if he run for miles, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing the bile down.

Now was not the time for this.

He was not alone yet.

Eventually, he managed to heave himself up and slowly make his way towards the bedroom.

James laid in bed, covered with everything Thomas could find in the house. An old blanket, some thick rugs that could’ve been clothes before. There wasn’t much and James shivered underneath it all, though he tried to shove the covers off of him. He was burning up again.

Thomas went to his side and took the cleaner cloth he made from the shirt he took from the plantation. The water he left in the chipped basin was still cold enough, the night air not as thick as it would become during the day. Carefully he dampened the cloth and run it over James’ overheated skin. His face, his neck, down his chest which was moving with shallow, rattled breaths. The sound of them haunting Thomas.

James’ mumbling became louder and slowly slightly more understandable.

“No… please… don’t leave… please…”

“Shh,” Thomas asked quietly, with one hand petting James sticky, dirty hair and the other moving steadily with the cold cloth to lower his temperature. “It’s alright. I’m here. It’s going to be alright.”

“Nonono… we can’t stop now… we need to go…”

James struggled as if to get up and Thomas pressed him back into bed. He was relieved he didn’t have to fight James in the midst of his nightmares, but the ease with which James was pushed back frightened him.

“We’re safe here, James. We’re alright.”

“You can’t… not like this…” James tossed his hands, looking tortured and haunted as Thomas tried to calm him with his touch with only partial success. “… for nothin’… don’t….”

The urge to get a doctor fought in Thomas with the fear of being caught. Of being imprisoned again. James being imprisoned. What if they just killed him anyway? What if he died on the way to prison? Was it all worth risking now? For a doctor that might not be able to help? And how was Thomas supposed to pay him? They had nothing, the clothes on their back and few coins left from what they stole right after leaving the plantation. It might be enough for the doctor, but how was Thomas to know? And what he will do after this? He could go for few days without food, he knew that well enough now, but James? After such illness, he will need to build up his strength. Would they even be allowed to stay here?

He kept shushing James, who mumbled on, protesting against something, begging and pleading, he was breaking Thomas’ heart, but he made no move to leave the house.

He wondered how he will explain this to James if he recovers. How James’ is not the only one of them who changed into a less honorable shape. How often Thomas debated taking action over the risk it brought and how often he pretended he didn’t see the cruelty of the guards or pleading stares of the inmates. How often was he deaf to pleas and how often he shared what he learned with the guards to avoid trouble and half-cocked attempts at rebellion that would doom them all. How often he wanted to rage and protest and fight, but the still so fresh memory of Bethlem bent his neck into submission.

How now he had to make a choice: risk their lives or only risk James’ and yet he sat by the bed James suffered on and kept quieting him down, not only because he wanted him to find some peace, but because the sounds in the dark, empty room sounded too loud and too risky.

James trashed in the bed again, Thomas’ hands on his shoulders unable to calm him down.

“Don’t! No! Don’t- Don’t leave! Don’t!”

He was tossing around as Thomas tried to press down his flying hands, touching his face and pressing closer to ease his fears.

“Shhh, love, shhhh.”

James fell back on the bed as if the strings were cut from him, but his face did not relax, it looked even more tortured as Thomas pressed soft kisses to it, his hands running through James’ hair as he kept mumbling with tortured, painful sobs.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled his sweaty face pressing against Thomas’ colder hands.

“I’m here, love, I’m here,” Thomas assured quietly.

“Please, John—” Thomas’ hands stilled for a brief moment as his breath caught slightly, before he pressed another kiss into James’ brow, right under the line of his hair. “Don’t—”

“Don’t worry, I’m right here,” Thomas assured quietly, “and I’m not leaving.”

He kissed James’ forehead. It was far too warm to the touch. Perhaps even worse than it was at night. He held him close, uncertain anymore if he was the one giving comfort or seeking it.

“He wouldn’t let you die, would he?” he said quietly, his thoughts now on the man he didn’t get to meet, but who granted him another chance at life with James. “Regardless of risk and your opinions.”

He moved away to look at James’ tortured face. James still hasn’t said much about the man that betrayed him and saved his life, but he was still angry and hurt over their parting. That much was obvious even when he was conscious enough to hide his feelings on the matter.

Thomas could not find in himself anything but gratitude towards the mysterious John Silver. Cruel, selfish part of him that grew alarmingly in the last decade, was certain that alive James was the best outcome, even if he was also hurt and betrayed.

He realized with suddenly that now, thinking of John Silver he not only felt gratitude but also shame. The disgusting, burning twist of it deep in his stomach.

“He would have saved you, wouldn’t he?” he asked quietly, his voice thin and weak. Barely audible over James mutters and moans.

He put the cloth back into the water-filled basin.

“He already did once, didn’t he? His efforts really shouldn’t go to waste…” He smoothed down James’ hair again and kissed him quickly once again before standing up to leave the room. “I will be back as soon as possible, love.”

He did not pause on his way out, worried if he does he will stop for good. He moved quickly, determined to fight back the urge to hide and trying to avoid overthinking his decision, to outrun the growing fear. He walked as fast as he dared towards the nearby town, hoping he didn’t just doom them both.

Hope was all he had now.

#my fic #meme #bisexualpirateheart #flitnhamilton #ANGST #ooops?

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bringmemyqueen · 7 years

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I'm a potate and I'm here bc iwadai :D Do you have some hcs or aus with them? (I'm sorry if I'm a bother, I just keep thinking that I need smth with them and it haunts my butt for over a week now T_T)

why hello fellow potate ♥∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ you’re not a bother at all!! how could i ever be annoyed by an iwadai ask??? that’s literally impossible never going to happen don’t worry :>

OH BOI DO I HAVE HCS AND AUS FOR IWADAI??? yes, yes I do.

some random headcanons:

Iwaizumi just loves to bask in the few cm of height difference between him and Daichi. Daichi swears he’ll grow taller in the next year (of every year). these dorks and their height obsession i swear

Iwaizumi is an actual sap ok like he sometimes doesn’t even realize it. i’m forever going to write him this way. I just feel he’s the type to really cherish and love hard when he’s in a relationship. Also because I love Daichi so much I like to make Iwaizumi emotionally weak to Daichi =u=

Daichi is such a fuckin tease (most times intentional) and Iwaizumi initiates touch more often

Iwaizumi’s favorite physical features of Daichi: eyes and thighs; Daichi’s favorite physical features of Iwaizumi: pouty lips, arms, eyes, back

They take turns doing chores and are all civil about it, but in general they’re a mess like they throw their clothes everywhere and anywhere until a pile forms and they can’t tell which pile is clean or dirty

THEY GET A BIG FLOOFY DOG!!! who I’ve decidedly named Wan because it sounds like a bark and also the number one which can stand for Daichi’s jersey number and Hajime ;v;

Iwaizumi is a movie/film fanatic and they have movie night twice a month sometimes more depending how free they are. they cuddle on the couch, kiss each other with popcorn breath, and have lengthy discussions about the plot and characters

Daichi enjoys listening to all types of music and Iwaizumi loves watching him sing because he’s always so into it (not the greatest singer tho). Daichi has plenty of foreign songs that he likes to sing to Iwaizumi but Iwaizumi doesn’t know much English so he looks up the songs and realizes that they’re all incredibly cheesy love songs and wow he’s blushing so hard now

They’re both strong enough to carry the other over their shoulders and they wrestle each other alllllll the time for funsies. Sometimes it leads to make-out sessions and other times one or the other accidentally gets elbowed or kicked a little too hard

some iwadai aus

college au: me and my friend jess tried to write a slow burn chaptered fic but uhhhhhhhh we’re stuck on chapter 2……like its been what six months?? since we started OTL i really want to finish it because im so so so desperate for an iwadai centric long fic and trust me this was going to be long. we have an outline. AN OUTLINE. OF THEIR FOUR YEARS OF COLLEGE. BUT WE DON’T KNOW HOW TO WORD. anyways this is the basic college au i will never get tired of where iwadai become friends and eventually like each other but they’re both too dumb and dense to realize their own feelings until some incident happens and one of them realizes and they’re like oh shit what to do because they don’t want to ruin their friendship. gawwwd i want to write this but i’m forever a mediocre one-shot writer TT__TT

same neighborhood au: where Daichi moves into the same neighborhood as Iwaizumi and Oikawa in his childhood. The three of them become close but Daichi ends up moving again after a couple of years. Then they meet again in high school when Daichi transfers to Seijou during his third year. ughghgh im sorry I have a story for this and i’m trying to explain without spoiling it too much because I want to make it into a comic but its basically a high school romance iwadai au lmao (also a small bit of one-sided oi/dai maybe?, but supportive best friend oiks) aaaand jsut to put it out there Iwaizumi has a scar on his lip and Daichi has one on his stomach/back from an incident that happened when they were kids and that’s all I’ll say for now. its a vague mess i know OTL

mafia au: i don’t have much of an idea for this one yet since I just thought about it recently (which is ridiculous because im fcking love mafia au the best kind of angst man). honestly i just want to draw iwadai half-naked with a bunch of pretty and elaborate tattoos. But I’m thinking about it as I write this and guys……imagine Karasuno mafia boss Daichi falling in love with Seijou’s right hand man Iwaizumi. The mafia bosses having monthly meetings or something and they’re only allowed to bring one person with them. Imagine the eye-fucking during the meetings and secret rendezvous during high tensions between the groups hgngngngn im gone

#ask #kathwolfie #hope you dont mind that i posted!#i wanted to share the iwadai loveee #ALSO THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK #IM LOVE IWADAI SO MUCH #if you ever want more dont be afraid to ask #ID FCKING GO NUTS #iwadai #headcanons

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