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starlight-shades · 1 year ago

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Called Home to the Depths of the Forest Ch. 10

• summary – Simon and Johnny talk.

• rating – M

• wordcount – 1.3k

• warnings – mentions of previous character deaths, corrupt cop

• This is my first fanfic, so please let me know if there's anything I forgot to tag. Feedback is welcome and encouraged

Read on Ao3

Ch 1. Ch. 9 Ch. 11

“I didn’t think they had like actual cells anymore, I thought they’d all just be rooms,” Johnny mused.

They sat on the floor with their backs to the wall of what appeared to be the only cell in the building. There wasn’t enough crime to warrant a second one, apparently.

The concrete was cold beneath him.

“What did they charge you with?” Ghost asked.

“Murder. The hunters.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Is this the part where I ask ‘What are you in for?’” Johnny said, using one of the worst American accents he had ever heard.

Simon hummed, a small smile playing at his lips. “Good, old-fashioned vandalism.”

Johnny grinned. “Threw a fit to come see me. So you do like me?”

“Oh…” He wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Johnny’s face fall.

“Sorry, I know you want to be responsible…” he said the word like it tasted bitter.

“John…”

“It’s okay, Si…”

The tension in the air left him feeling adrift. Simon knew what the right decision was, but he had felt like shit ever since breaking things off with Johnny. If he had made the “right” decision, why did it still feel like he had cut out his own heart?

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Johnny jolted, as if startled, looking back at Simon with a bewildered look on his face.

“What? Why?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he confessed. Even as he apologized, he couldn’t look him in the eye. His gaze traced ever silver-kissed scar that criss-crossed his hands.

“Oh, Simon,” Johnny breathed, leaning his head back against the wall. He sounded resigned.

Minutes passed and the silence grew thicker and thicker between them. Simon felt it eating away at him. He should say something. He needed to say something. What would he say? How could he bridge the gap between them?

“Why was the strawberry crying?” Johnny asked suddenly.

“Why?”

“Because, he was in a jam.”

It wasn’t a laugh so much as it was a sharp exhale, but it was enough to break the tension.

“That was awful,” Simon groused.

“Yeah…” He dragged his hands down his face, speaking into his hands more than to Simon. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

They were sat next to each other, about a foot or so from each other. Not enough space that he couldn’t reach out and touch him. Simon wanted to, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed anymore.

“I…” he started. Sighing, he started again. “I know. I was too harsh. Didn’t take enough time to properly think.”

When Johnny looked at him again, there were tears in his eye despite the small smile on his lips. Simon wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to fool.

“No, Si. I was stupid. Put us at risk, like you said.”

In that moment, Simon would have given anything to go back and do it all again. He would have waited until he wasn’t angry to react, would have had an actual discussion with Johnny rather than whatever one-sided thing they had had before. Or even before Soap went out, he would have stopped him from leaving that night. They would have waited to cool off before talking it out and spending the night just them and the pups. Instead, he was left once again with the distinct feeling that the life he wanted was just out of reach.

Only a foot away, but that foot was somehow leagues all the same.

“John…” he murmured. Simon didn’t know how to make this right. His gaze flickered down to Johnny’s hand when he set it back down on the floor.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed it. It was warm. The cold of the cell hadn’t leeched all the sun from Johnny, it couldn’t. Simon looked back up and was startled at the blue of his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, dropping his hand as fast as he could. They couldn’t bait Johnny’s wolf. Not here.

But Johnny snapped his hand back just as quickly, bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to Simon’s palm. He held it tightly to his heart, twining their fingers together.

“I love you, Si,” he confessed, holding up his free hand when Simon started to speak. “I don’t expect you to say it back. I don’t expect anything from you, I just needed you to know. No matter what happens, I love you, Simon Riley.”

“Johnny—“ he couldn’t finish his thought because Johnny started crying in earnest.

“Didn’t think you’d ever call me that again,” he sniffed.

“Oh, Johnny…”

There was no hesitation this time when Simon gathered him into his arms, holding him tight. His own cheeks were suspiciously damp as he pulled the smaller man into his lap. They held each other like it was their only lifeline. Johnny buried his face in Simon’s neck, nuzzling as close as he could. Simon gathered as much of him in his arms as he could.

“I love you too,” he whispered into the skin he could reach. “I just… I can’t do it again. The drinking and the fighting. I need to be able to count on you.”

Johnny pulled back to look him in the eye. “I’ll show you,” he promised, “you can count on me.”

Simon studied his face. If it were just them, he wouldn’t have a problem believing him, but he had Duncan and Ailsa to think about as well. It wouldn’t just be him getting hurt if Johnny couldn’t keep his promise.

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by the entrance of D.C. Collins.

The look on his face was sour to say the least. He glared daggers at them as he took a comically large key ring to unlock the door to the cell.

“It looks like you’re both free to go,” he spat.

They rose to stand, locking eyes before looking back at Collins who couldn’t snarl another word at them before they were joined by an exhausted-looking middle-aged woman.

Kate Laswell had her sandy hair tied back in a loose ponytail, streaks of grey shot through. Simon was somehow surprised to see that the lines on her face had gotten deeper in the years since they had seen each other. Even so, she was still the unbending force of nature he remembered.

“All charges have been dropped, boys. Let’s go,” she declared.

“She’s a Yank!” Johnny laughed as they followed her out.

“And she’s the reason you’re free, so have some manners,” she scolded, but Simon could see the glint of humor in her eyes.

They passed through the police station with no further incident. He could feel Collins’ glare on his back, but the other officers didn’t seem to bothered to see them go.

As soon as they were in the parking lot, she turned to look at Simon.

“Come here, let me take a look at my boy” she said, reaching out to take his face in her hands.

“Kate, you’re only a few years older than me,” he protested rather half-heartedly, allowing her to cup his cheeks in her palms.

“You’re still my boy. Jessie sends her love. She was upset you had children and didn’t tell her. Speaking of which, they are so perfect, Simon.”

The unwavering professional from inside the police station was gone, leaving a much softer woman that he had only seen glimpses of, most frequently when she was around her wife.

“You look good,” she murmured, finally releasing him. “Having a pack suits you.”

“I’ve been doing good,” he reassured her.

She hummed, turning to look at Johnny who had been staring between them in bewilderment.

“John tells me good things about you, Soap.”

“Aye, ma’am, I try my best.” Johnny held himself stiffly, he stood like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with his body.

“At ease,” she chuckled. Pulling a set of car keys out of her pocket, she nodded to Simon. “I’ll see you back at your place? We can debrief there.”

He nodded.

They watched as Kate drove off.

Turning to look at him, Simon slid his hand into Johnny’s.

“Let’s go home.”

#soapghost #fic #my writing #werewolf soap #soap #john soap mactavish #ghost #simon ghost riley #kate laswell

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inkwell-and-dagger · 1 year ago

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[This House Doesn't Feel Like Home]

A/N: inspired by @paranoia-exe 's "But You Never Really Tried To Stop Me, Did You?". do note that, in this au where our ocs and their lore are linked, Vantè is no longer with Rayan, since the latter is currently fiance's with Vesker Faithern in the lore.

CW: mentioned past torture, kind of toxic romantic relationships??, slight gore and blood, implied torture

—> —> —> —> —> —> —>

Vantè could feel Rayan everywhere he went in the house. His clothes, his furniture, hell, even his smell. That one perfume Sage had given him that he'd sworn to preserve as much as possible, a hand-made painting of a hyacinth that Madison had made when she was hyperfixated on painting. It all reminded him of that bastard.

He loved Rayan; really, he did. But Rayan's forms of affection were.. unorthodox, perhaps? Disturbing, to say the least. Which is why Vantè hated being here, no matter how close he held that Irish prick in his heart.

Even then, as Rayan's head buried in Vantè's shoulder, the deep rise and fall of the former's chest indicating he'd drifted into a — for once — peaceful slumber, Vantè wanted nothing but to get out. The scars still hurt him, if he tried hard enough to imagine it. The scars Rayan had put onto his body. An immortal ripping into another immortal's skin with a knife, without a beat of hesitation. Vantè didn't like how Rayan's show of affection was. He doubted it really was affection in the first place.

————

Word spread about how, much later after Vantè had the guts to get away from Rayan — which ended.. badly, to say the very least — that the Irish bitch himself was dating mafia boss Mason Transvolski. Before that, Vantè had gotten comfortable with a group called The Survivors. A collection of Rayan's surviving victims, all intent on giving the immortal a taste of his own medicine. Foster was the one who recruited him.

He had to admit, all of them were nice. Foster's charisma and clear interest toward a silver-tongued demon such as himself was intriguing. The way Esrana's mood could switch in a blink of an eye, unfortunately so similar to Rayan, yet that never stopped her from caring for her brother. Her brother himself, Zayn. He was only nineteen years old, and enduring the mental strain of keeping a captive in good conditions never stopped him from smiling. Ezra, with his own little shelf to store every alcohol bottle he found aesthetic, and with clear intent to avenge his brother, Rome, whenever Rayan was brought up in idle conversation. And Madir, he.. well, the two of them didn't talk much. Madir seldom talks in the first place. But he's heard that the russet skinned man is nice.

Vantè didn't see Rayan much, even out and about. Sure, the group would capture Rayan every so often, but Vantè still wasn't comfortable with torturing his ex just yet. Foster assured him the time would come eventually, and none of them would push him to do anything he didn't want to. Vantè was grateful for that.

————

Time passed and, what do you know, Rayan was with another man. Apparently, Rayan had done something similar to what he did to Vantè, only to Mason, which is what caused them to split. Vantè mused whether Rayan was like this with Sage, but didn't want to press the matter.

Especially now Rayan was being captured more than ever.

They could all tell Rayan and Vesker were close. Hell, they even decided to kidnap Vesker, too, just because. Though, it was a bad thing that Vesker worked as an assassin in the very same mafia Mason is a part of...

Rayan was a lot more different than his Vantè remembered him. His once soft and neat light brown hair, now much darker and askew, cascading over one of his eyes where a healed scar could barely be seen. His emerald eyes, still as enchanting, but wide with fear every time Rayan saw even one of the survivors. The more Vantè entered the basement, the more wounds Rayan had gotten. At one point, after Madir had exited the basement with a rare grin on his sharp features, Vantè had peeked inside and saw Rayan's hand nearly fully severed by the wrist and his legs broken and bloodied. A hand saw and a hammer lay on the floor, coated in fresh blood. Rayan's blood.

Vantè still didn't really feel at home. But seeing Rayan so weak after all the shit he put Vantè through brought him some solace. Some.

—> —> —> —> —> —> —>

#whump #oc writing #oc whump #writing #whump writing #immortal whumpee #others ocs #rayan hyacinth #vesker faithern #vanté ramirez #mason transvolski

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angstyandromanticwriting · 2 years ago

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Benjamin X Reader Angsty prompt with small cute moments (linked to last prompt I posted)

!TW: Word ‘attacked’ and ‘attack’, word ‘hurt’, mention of ‘scar’!

Benjamin decided to stay with you after you were attacked, and you were worried that he hated you as he wasn’t speaking. “You - You hate me, don’t you?” You assumed, and Benjamin shook his head quickly, a hurt look on his face as he lowered his head to look at you. “You think I’m stupid,” you murmured, and Benjamin intertwined his fingers with your’s.

“Not at all, Y/n,” he contradicted; he did think it was stupid that you went out into the forest alone, but he didn’t want to make you feel worse. “I’m so proud of you,” he claimed, “you survived their attack, and that doesn’t happen often for mortals. And all you got from it was a pretty little scar.” You winced when you remembered, subconsciously lifting your hand to your right eye, but Benjamin stopped you. “Don’t touch it, Y/n,” he commanded, “it - it’s still healing.” You nodded gravely, lowering your hand again. “H-Hey,” Benjamin broke the silence which had passed over the two of you for a moment, “I love you.”

You subconsciously smiled, unable to stop yourself; he always knew how to cheer you up when you felt down. “Could you say that again?” You requested, and Benjamin winced, embarrassed.

“Were you not listening?” Benjamin asked, and you shook your head, grinning.

“No, I was,” you answered quickly, “I just like hearing your voice.” Benjamin chuckled, amused. You glanced up at him, staring into his reddish brown eyes. “I never thought it was possible to love someone this much,” you mused, and he smiled warmly down at you. “You’re everything I could’ve wanted, and more,” you expressed, and he felt the same way about you.

༺𐦐༻

You’d gotten a part-time job in the small shop you lived near to, and hadn’t told anyone, but Benjamin about it. “Y/n?” You would turn around, surprised to hear Jacob’s voice. “Do you come here often?” Jacob inquired, and you nodded.

“Well, considering I work here, yes,” you answered, and Jacob would be surprised, but pleased for you.

“That’s great, Y/n,” he responded, “it’s - nice, here.” You giggled, nodding; he was trying to make the place sound better than it was. “Do the others know that you work here?” Jacob asked, and you shook your head.

“Only Benjamin,” you answered, and Jacob nodded his head slightly. “But don’t tell Carlisle and the others, please,” you requested, and he nodded.

“I won’t,” he reassured you, and you be relieved, smiling your thanks to him. “Why don’t you want them to know, anyway?” Jacob questioned, curious, and you shrugged; you weren’t quite sure why, yourself.

༺𐦐༻

“Do you miss home?” You inquired after you’d told him about how you were missing the old hut you’d stayed in when you were younger, and Benjamin would think about your question for a moment.

“Have I ever told you,” Benjamin began slowly and thoughtfully, “that home stopped being a place when you entered my life?” You smiled softly up at him, and he reflected the smile, before he connected his lips to your’s.

༺𐦐༻

After Tia and Benjamin’s Wedding, you felt as if you’d lost everything as you snuck away from the crowd, and when you found yourself alone, you sank to the floor, staring ahead of you through glistening, sore eyes. When Benjamin noticed that you’d disappeared, he looked for you, worried about you. “Y/n?” Benjamin broke the silence when he found you sitting down by the river close by to the set-up, but you wouldn’t dare look up at him.

“Can you please just hold me?” You whispered shakily, and he nodded, crouching down beside you, before he wrapped his arms around you, a pained expression on his face. “Can - Can you stay with me tonight?” You requested, and he winced, holding you at arm’s length. “Please,” you begged, “I don’t want to be alone, Benjamin.”

Benjamin hesitantly nodded; he was worried you’d hurt yourself if he left you alone. “I’ll tell Tia I have somewhere to be,” he stated, and you threw your arms around him, burying your face against his neck.

“Thank you, Benjamin,” you responded, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“No problem, Y/n,” he replied gently, “I wanna do all I can for you. I - I know this is hard, a-and..” Benjamin sighed, playing with your hair to comfort you and himself.

↯

Benjamin grinned when you snuggled up to him, resting your head on his chest. “You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one,” you murmured sleepily, and Benjamin chuckled, glad to be your new pillow.

↯

You frowned when you began to stir, and Benjamin was just waking up, too, groaning as he stretched. “You should probably go home,” you murmured, a pained expression on your face.

Benjamin shook his head, glancing down at you. “But I’m already home,” he responded, playing with your hair again. “Kiss me,” he requested, and you managed a weak smile at him, before you connected your lips to his. Benjamin would be concerned when he noticed that you were crying, and he wrapped his arms around you. “H-Hey,” he spoke gently, “I’m right here.”

You sobbed, burying your face against the front of his neck. “I - It’s nothing, I just - I keep remembering how we used to be, and-” Benjamin frowned when he realised, and he hugged you tighter to try and comfort you.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed this prompt! ❤️

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nicawlette · 2 years ago

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RELATIONSHIP BUILDING

@qwincy asked: (⁠┛⁠✧⁠Д⁠✧⁠)⁠)⁠┛⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻ ☎ 🎼👋😍💤📱

Send ☎ for your muse’s info in my muses phone (name, ringtone, picture, last text received/sent).

photo: It's a photo of him as he sleeps, taken the first time she decides to stay the night at his apartment. Somehow, in her eyes, he looks even more relaxed than he does sleeping anywhere else. Topper is also asleep, curled up against one side of his neck. name: 🌿Quincy🐻 ringtone: teehee... ( the girls that get it, get it )

last texts received: [txt] jmdu gtwk fpkksdhs lgkhf [txt] that wa stopper [txt] he says hi

last texts sent: [txt] oh lmao [txt] and here i though the old man was finally learning how to text [txt] tell topper i said hi and that i love him!! [txt] also you should come over... 💕 ( image attachment )

Send 🎼 for a song that reminds me of our muses.

Wanna Be Her » june ( i wanna KMS!! )

Take Your Shirt Off » Millionaires

SUPERIMPOSE » ELIO

Send 👋 for three things that describe our muses relationship.

The comfort and security of a weighted blanket

Heat permeating to your very core from a hand against your nape

Standing on the ledge of a great height and feeling your stomach flip as you admire the view

Send 😍 for my muse to tell yours three things they love about them.

❝ Well, well, I didn't take you to be a man who goes fishing for compliments? ❞ She coos, ❝ do I have any incentive to answer honestly? ❞ All he gives her is a flat look in return, though she's sure it won't be hard to coax him into rewarding her later. Nicolette decides to indulge him, and pays no mind to the voice that points out how much harder its gotten to deny him much of anything at all.

❝ I love... your hands, ❞ she starts, reaching out to take hold of one, palm to palm, scars against callouses. Hers is smaller, fingers much shorter and thiner. The difference in size never fails to give her a bit of a thrill and fill her stomach with a strange, fluttery feeling.

❝ Aaaand... ❞ Nicolette hums, seeming to think about her next words. Instinct encourages her to tease, but her mouth is moving before she can stop it. ❝ I love how well you took care of me. How eager you seemed to be to do it back then... and even to do it again..? ❞ The answer is far more honest than she originally intends.

She almost keeps going, murmuring, ❝ I love— ❞ as her cheeks grow warm, inexplicably, and Nicolette bites her own tongue to silence whatever was about to come out next. She realizes to late how strange the following silence must seem, and she flounders as she tries again. ❝ I—I love... your big, ❞ her eyes lower to stare directly between his legs before slowly lifting again to meet his eyes, ❝ heart. ❞ It's clear that she's trying to repress a grin and stifle her laughter.

Send 💤 for my muse to say something about yours in their sleep.

Nicolette had always been a fairly light sleeper in the past. As a general rule, it was safest that way, and after the things she'd lived through, it was nearly impossible for body and mind to fully relax into something that would make her completely vulnerable. It's different, now. Whatever it was Nicolette feared might hurt her could not reach her, here. The bed she sleeps in is her own, in an apartment that she lives alone in.

There's few things to worry might harm her, and even less to fear when her bed is shared with the neighbor down the hall. Nicolette feels unquestionably safe in his arms, and her unconscious body makes that clear by the way it presses close, drawn to him like a sunflower turning towards the light, face burrowed against his broad chest. Nights like this give her the deepest, most restful sleep she's ever known. Even asleep, the temporary cure to her crushing loneliness is like a balm that heals all wounds.

It's why, as Quincy goes to dislodge himself ( whether it be to leave or simply use the restroom ), Nicolette's arms tighten their hold on instinct. Her peaceful expression contorts with displeasure, a low whine rumbling in her chest. ❝ Nooo, ❞ She murmurs, ❝ Quincy... ❞ As his hands make contact and try to dislodge her with his usual firm gentleness, her face softens again into something dopey and pleased. ❝ That tickles... ❞ A quiet giggle followed by a soft sigh leaves her lips as her head tips back against the pillow, unintentionally presenting her neck. ❝ You can... hold me tighter... I won't break... ❞

Send📱for a voicemail my muse left yours.

1 Voicemail — Thursday, 6:38PM

❝ Oooooi, Quincy! I've kidnapped Topper, and— ❞ Her voice cuts off as a muffled ❛ squeak! squeak! ❜ interrupts the ransom message. Nicolette's soft coo of ❛ oh, did you want more?❜ is also muffled as if she's holding the phone away from her face before there's a quiet shuffle and she's speaking directly into the speaker again. ❝ Anyway, you heard him, right? If you don't hurry over, I'm going to make him so fat he'll look like a guinea pig! ❞

Her voice gets a little quieter as she says, ❝ Topper, darling, do you mind calling for help? Make it very dramatic, please! ❞

Squeak! Squeeeeeaak! ❝ You heard the man! You better hurry. If it helps, I bought a new outfit I think you'll like. Maybe you can help me take it o— ❞

Beep beep.

#qwincy #under readmore because of mildly suggestive content but mostly because it's LONG AS FUCK GKOHNJFKGGF #I WENT FUCKING INSANE YOU ALREADY KNOW I HAVE #VERY MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THEM #I COULD GO ON FOR HOURS #also that first song literally makes me want to Die #⊰ 🩸 // ASKS » when she talks she talks like she can handle it. ⊱

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zephosthefaedemon · 9 months ago

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(from any of my muses on here ) " It's not your fault " [ evil laugh ]

(Evil Laugh indeed, I'm gonna respond with a couple of muses of yours, one for our ditzy deer friend and one for Anti Moxxie)

Alastor Response:

Zephos' ears perked up, looking up from her knitting to find none other than the Radio Demon standing nearby her. She was sitting under that same tree that she'd been under the last time he'd approached her. Her tail stilled, her posture changed to one straight and poised as needed to defend herself. She did not drop the knitting, which was a lovely yellow scarf she intended to give to Charlie.

She'd taken some advice from a musically inclined imp friend of hers to take care of herself, to protect herself as needed, concealing a silver dagger laced with her own blood against her thigh should she need it.

The fae's response was a mixture of confusion and distrust. Was Alastor genuinely apologizing for his behavior toward her. She figured ask to clarify what he meant by that. "So Alastor, if it wasn't my fault, pray tell why you decided to target me so. If you wanted something from me all you had to do was ask. I'm usually a generous person, I could have helped you."

Anti-Moxxie Response:

Zephos would be knitting that yellow scarf she intended for Charlie to have by her birthday, chatting with Moxxie in the garden under that old tree. It still had scars from that day where a certain someone had snapped on her.

When that topic came up with regards to the tree, she'd mentioned that perhaps it was her fault that she'd been hurt by Alastor, because she'd been kind to him in the first place. She'd stopped her rambling when he cut through with the statement of it not being her fault, halting her words right there. She took in what he said, a tilt to her head, ears flicking up as if to hear what he'd said. Her eyes slightly widened too, silver shining in the light between the shade and the leaves.

After all this time, between everything she'd ever done, she'd never been told that. From the mother who raised her, to the humans who were skeptical of her, to the fire which ruined the naivety her childhood, she usually was not allotted any mercy or innocence.

She did not feel the tears betray her feelings from his kind words, just one simple sentence broke her wall down that she'd had for so long. The disgraced Fae Lady felt her breath begin to be hard to gain, trying to hold herself together. Zephos didn't even realize a shimmering tear dropped until she saw it against her white glove. "You really mean that?" She'd say gently, her soft voice slightly wavering, even softer than before.

#rp #moxxieetude #former noble (zephos)#disturbed frequencies (alastor)#Dark Countermelody (Anti-Moxxie)#(Look at the difference between these two)#(Love how different she took Anti-Moxxie's words vs Alastor's words with just a sentence)

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demongemz · 29 days ago

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Will looked at the other he'd never seen Hannibal look so broken and hurt, it was as if losing him had truly destroyed the once strong man he'd spent years getting to know and understand. "Why don't you deserve to bear my name? You wouldn't have gotten it without my permission am I so easy to toss aside that you wouldn't wish to wear my name as the scar it deserves?" he mused looking at the other he had to admit this version of Hannibal so vulnerable so willing to melt within his hands was intoxicating, Finn wanted him back so much so that he couldn't help but want to bend and break under his gaze. "You think my love is conditional? You think that I'm so changeable that I wouldn't wish you to keep the name I gave you?" he didn't mean to allow the hurt to shine in his eyes but if they were married why return to a name that meant nothing unless their love wasn't as deep as he thought. He felt the pull even without knowing he was alive in this world, he tried to move on with Eric, the man was generally one of the nicest guys he'd ever met but he wasn't the man he loved, that was just a sad fact of life.

"Part of me always knew that you touched my soul from the first moment we laid eyes on each other, you knew far sooner than I did because I locked myself away from the world from everyone so I didn't have to get too close, my walls came crumbling down from the moment you uttered hello" He mused knowing that he could still feel the pull to the other even if he tried to deny it, one thing was true he couldn't fight it off for long. They were fated to always find one another, something the old will would've quickly shoved under the rug because of the ugliness that lurked in the darkest corners of his mind. The words spoken unlocked something within him, a desire he had long since accepted as dead and yet here he stood right before him, something flesh and bone that he could hold close. “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! Do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! I can not live without my soul!” the words slipped out of his lips without much thought or understanding until he looked into Finn's eyes and saw the very soul he knew belonged to him.

How desperately he wanted to reach out and kiss the other but he couldn't, he was dating someone, someone he owed the respect of breaking things off first before jumping into something else. "How come I don't remember…I remember blood and pain…then holding you as we fell off a cliff, you tell me that isn't correct so what am I missing?" he questioned honestly before allowing his hand to trace back along his jaw slowly allowing his hand to slip in the other's long hair as if to soothe his pain through touch alone. "Someone I considered a brother? The only two people I trust to have my back are Mark and Parker. You can't stop everything that is to come, you struggle with controlling situations but sometimes your subjects don't act the way you wish" he mused with a slightly fond smile before tilting his head. "I struggled with the idea that you loved me, I thought maybe it was my feelings projecting upon you and that my darkness was the only reason you sought me out nothing more than a toy to pass the time…I want them to suffer for taking so much from us but I want you to get healthy first…you'll do me no good if I lose you in the process."

"YES. IT'S... COMPLICATED, IN.. SO MANY WAYS. I DON'T DESERVE TO BE THAT ANYMORE." and that, perhaps, showed more than anything how much it was that he had changed when all of it was said and done. the one that he had been once upon a time would have gladly done whatever he wanted, but.. now? the only thing that he cared about was will and always would be. making him proud? it was ... what even now, he was trying to do. vulnerably and strangely and in a way that he himself didn't understand completely. "yes. i did. you.. YOU SAID IT WAS ALRIGHT. BACK THEN, AT LEAST. I UNDERSTAND THINGS MAY HAVE CHANGED." oh, he hoped not. with everything he had, he hoped not and right now, he didn't think that he was imagining the sadness in his eyes. the longing, as he found himself reaching for will's arm for a second. it was just one split moment, but.. he wondered if he could feel the same thing he did. THE CONNECTION. THE WAY THAT THEY WERE PULLED TOWARDS ONE ANOTHER. other people may have attempted to get in the way - foolish idiots that could not begin to comprehend what it was like to love someone in the way that he and will had loved one another - but .. he had a feeling that this was always going to be here. the two of them and the way they were connected.

"it is what i know how to do. although in a very different way now. and.. i used to think that too, but i see it differently now. you're not my weakness. YOU'RE MY STRENGTH. YOU'VE ALWAYS MADE ME STRONGER, IN.. A WAY THAT NO ONE ELSE COULD." deep down, he had known. deep down, he had known that will was going to come back, because at this point, it felt as if the two of them had begun to blur. could one exist without the other? finn did not think so, because his existence without the man that he loved with his entire soul was.. POINTLESS. what would he be, without will graham? where would he be? he was finding more and more often that he did not want to know in the slightest. right? "yes. i do know. i do not believe i could ever love in the way that other people consider.. normal. MY VERY SOUL IS YOURS. IT ALWAYS HAS BEEN YOURS AND IT WILL CONTINUE TO BE.. IF YOU WISH IT. unless you tell me to, i.. i am not going anywhere. ever." it would have been selfless of him to do so and to let will live his life and find some fool that would never love him like he did and only in a superficial way but.. finn was selfish. and no, he did not want to let go of him. he did not think that he ever could and perhaps, he was not going to have to. perhaps, the two of them could remain as they had always been and.. no, he didn't want to go anywhere. whatever life will had now? he wanted to be part of it and.. they had made enough mistakes in the past. especially him. he had let him go enough times and let the vultures have a chance at getting to him and no, that would never be the case again. this time? he'd be there. this time? he'd fight for him, no matter what.

fighting the urge to kiss him, he remained where he was, letting his forehead rest against his own. "I DO NOT. WHATEVER IT IS YOU WANT TO KNOW.. I'LL TELL YOU, BUT.. PROMISE ME SOMETHING. you are not safe here. same as i found you, it won't be long until the people that hurt you do. nothing about this place is safe. none of it." nodding, as he met his eyes. "i could not stop it until it was too late. you died with.. someone that you cared for. someone i believe you considered a brother, but none of that was right. neither of you should have been there but.. especially you. i am sorry that i could not stop it," his breath hitched in his throat, as he glanced over in will's direction. leaning forward, until they were that close? perhaps, because right now, all that he could feel was how inevitable they both were. "hear me when i say that there is nothing i would not do for you. nothing. you are my dearest love and.. everything will happen as you wish for it to happen. i'd go to the ends of the earth for you. hell. any of it. if what you wish is for them to pay? to lose everything? IT SHALL BE DONE. NO ONE MATTERS MORE TO ME THAN YOU. FOR YOU? ANYTHING. EVERYTHING." he absolutely, absolutely meant it. @demongemz

#c: fcrafcrtnight || Finn #Will || Threads #death mention tw #wal:event05 #EPIC I love them so much

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servesyxuright · 4 years ago

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“But hardly anybody ever finds out that their actions really, actually, HURT other people! People don’t get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter, you don’t stop pulling the wings off flies. You just think of better reasons for doing it.”

#« do old scars ever stop hurting? ✩ musings »#« you missed me? ✩ mobile »#« let me provide a visual aid. ✩ images »

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years ago

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Hi :) I was wondering if you’d be open to writing something about Tommy and baby Shelby going to see Alfie. With season 5 Alfie trying to hide his scars because he thinks she’d be scared but she just cuddles into him. I get if this is weird or too specific😅

Protected

“Remember what we talked about eh?” Tommy says to his youngest sibling as he tugs open the door on her side of the car. (y/n) Shelby takes her brothers outstretched hand to help her jump down out of the car that was a little too high up for her to manage to climb out by herself. “Yes Tommy.” She responds, skipping off in front of him to the big heavy front door of the building they were going into. The little girl leans against the door to very little avail as it barely even budges until Tommy reaches the door too and pushes it open with one strong arm.

He steps very firmly in front of (y/n) in the lobby of the building to prevent her running off again, and crouches down to her height with both hands placed firmly on her small upper arms to hold her still. “You stay right next to me okay?” He repeats, “And stay quiet yeah? I’ll try and be as quick as i can.” (y/n) smiles in response, “And then we can go to the sweet shop?”

Tommy nods and gives his little sister a soft smile before he stands up straight and takes her hand tightly in his. His littlest sister is so fearless and unaware of the dangers of the life she was dropped into that it always gives Tommy a sense of relief in some ways. It was almost like a form of escapism. Bouncing between Polly, John, Arthur, Charlie, and Tommy had made her life very different from most, even from Tommy’s young son. It would be incredibly safe to say that it was a shock when Polly Gray had entered into the betting shop in Watery Lane holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. They were all incredibly confused and very soon learned that Arthur Shelby Senior had shown up on the doorstep with another child he wasn’t interested in raising. She was an accidental one who’s mother died in childbirth and the deadbeat father had been gifted with yet another little life to let down.

Of course it became very important for Tommy that the baby girl did not experience the same kind of sheer let down that their father had given to all of them. He named sweet little (y/n) on that evening 6 and a half years ago. He felt like he was completely aimless and useless at that time. He had decided not to go after Grace and that lost love was weird for him after finally having it. Then that beautiful, quiet, warm and sweet little girl was placed into his arms and held tightly onto his finger and suddenly, his world and his love seemed to hold new meaning.

She was his muse, his greatest love and his favourite little sidekick.

“Tommy fuckin’ Shelby.” Alfie rumbles out, his back to the door as he faces out his balcony. “That’s a bad word, Tommy.” (y/n) chides in a whisper as she looks up cautiously at her elder brother. Tommy offers her small hand a gentle squeeze and nods his head, but promptly turns his head back to the man holding a gun at the window. “And you’ve brought your mini protégé, i see.”

Alfie turns half of his face, only his good half, to see the sweet little wave from the youngest Shelby sibling. “Alfie, this is my sister; (y/n).” Tommy introduces, hoping his willingness to divulge his sisters name would move Alfie away from the subject as quickly as possible so that they could talk about what he was really there to talk about and then he could take his sister and go quickly. He didn’t like her having to be involved in these things, he always feared it would bring her into the line of fire. “Mhm,” Alfie grumbles, “Last time i saw you, you was only about this big-” He gestures with his hand only a few feet off the floor, “Couldn’t speak much, either.” The Londoner adds, eyes slightly narrowed. The 6 year old tilts her head to the side.

“I can speak a lot now, Mister Solomons.” She says, somewhat proudly. The burly man laughs, not his usual sinister or mocking way. “I can see that.” He hums in response, eyes moving from the little girl to Tommy when he clears his throat heavily to draw attention back to him. “If we could, Alfie, I’d like to talk business.” Alfie nods his head in response, gesturing with his hand to the couch across the room. Tommy let’s go of his sisters hand to sit down on the couch, the little girl doing her best to climb up beside him with only a little help from her brother. Alfie sits on the chair across from them. Tommy knows there had to be significant damage to the side of the man’s face after the injury he sustained from the bullet fired out of Thomas’s gun. There was almost no way he escaped that unscathed.

“I’m going to kill a facist, Alfie. And i need some men.”

The words from Tommy prompt Alfie to rather abruptly turn his head, somewhat shocked by the words, but more shocked by the fact the 6 year old little girl was completely unbothered by the words her brother had spoken. The pre-school aged girl simply continues fiddling with the pocket watch Tommy gave to her. She looks to be dismantling it with a very distinctive focus that reminds Alfie she is a Shelby, and she might fully be aware of how to kill him already.

“A facist ey?” Alfie repeats, his eyebrows raised. “Politics got to you, Thomas?” Tommy rolls his eyes and lights a cigarette. “I need some men.” Tommy adds, making Alfie scoff. “Oh you do, do you? And you want mine?”

Tommy merely nods his head.

In his discussion with the head of the Peaky Blinders, Alfie had not forgotten the presence of the 6 year old on the couch, but it had fallen away from the forefront focus of his mind as he debated the thought of lending men to a Shelby’s cause. In doing so, he turned his head in thought and a little noise of awe left the youngest Shelby. Tommy and Alfie both direct their attention straight to her.

The little girl scoots herself off the couch and Tommy reaches for her arm, but just misses. She trods right up to the huge London gangster and tilts her head. “What happened?” She asks softly. Alfie shifts uncomfortably on the couch he sits on, running his finger absentmindedly over the scarring of his face. “Got shot.” Alfie responds, Tommy clears his throat heavily and almost awkwardly in knowing he was the one who had given Alfie Solomons his facial scarring. (y/n) tilts her little head in awe as she clambers up onto the couch next to him.

“Looks cool.” She mutters in awe.

Most look at him in some kind of shock or horror even. Some with sympathy thinking it had come from the war and some with fear knowing where it had really come from. But few with the kindness and curiosity of the 6 year old standing on his good couch.

“Does it hurt?” She asks quietly. Alfie shrugs.

“Depends.”

That’s when her little hand reaches forward to trace over the scarring with an almost feather light child’s touch as she stands there on the couch, her hands are cold and gentle over the markings that no one has touched since his last hospital appointment.

“Her mother’s daughter.”

Alfie flicks his eyes back over to a now standing Thomas as he reaches forward to lift his sister up into his arms where she sits on his hip with little furrowed eyebrows and a purse on her lips. Alfie’s residual aching cheekbone pain has faded to nearly non-existent for the first time he can soberly remember. He knows that Tommy knows this by the look in his eyes and the way in which he notes his prior statement before he gathered his sister.

“She’s sweet.” Alfie nods, standing to his feet. As softened as both men may be by the child in the room, Alfie does not like sitting as Tommy Shelby towers over him whether the man is an ally or not. “Polly says i get it from Tommy.” (y/n) chimes. Alfie raises his eyebrows with a grin that makes Tommy roll his eyes at the retired gangster. “Oh do you now?” Alfie hums, opening his mouth to speak again when Tommy cuts him off. “You go ahead to the car (y/n), eh? I’ll meet you down there in just a minute okay?”

The six year old nods and runs off the moment her feet hit the ground. Tommy turns to Alfie immediately.

“If you ever-“

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Mom.” Alfie rumbles, crossing his arms over his chest with a beaming grin. “Little miss Shelby has you whipped, mate. Tell me, what’s your favourite apron you wear at home eh Thomas?” He chuckles heartily, making Tommy glower in rage at his teasing. “I’m fucking serious, Alfie.” He growls. Alfie straightens up and stops laughing immediately.

His eyes narrow for a split second and he tilts his head, his eyes searching the depth of Tommy’s cerulean blues and immediately noticing the sheer panic and worry that lies deep within them, attempting to hide under brotherly protective instinct and rage at the prospect of harm falling on his little sister. Alfie inhales deeply. He would truly never dream of harming a child. It’s not in his nature, nor does it sit well with him. And though he had been quick to give the head of the Peaky Blinders a reality check in the past regarding the safety of his son, in the end he had no idea Charlie Shelby had been taken and he never would have arranged for that to happen.

Alfie nods his head and leans forward. “She’s special to you, yeah?” Tommy doesn’t know why Alfie asks. He’s sure it’s clearer than he wants it to be, but alas the Londoner asks anyway and Tommy doesn’t know exactly how to answer, so he simply makes a motion something akin to a nod though looks more like a twitch of his chin. “Mhm, I can tell. You can have the men. I’m sure you know the price.” Alfie turns away. Tommy doesn’t know what it was in Alfie’s eyes that reassured him more than words ever could that he wouldn’t lay harm on the 6 year old little girl who treated him with more respect and kindness in the ten minutes she spoke to him that anyone had in years. There was an element of brotherly protectiveness that Alfie felt only after knowing her a short time.

“And Tommy?”

“Yes, Alfie?” The Birmingham MP turns back as he leaves the doorway of Alfie’s sitting room.

“Anything ever happens to the kid, you fuckin’ let me know yeah?”

Tommy nods his head, the ghost of a smile somewhat on his face. His little sister is just about as protected as they come, and there was a distinct feeling of certainty that Alfie Solomons was there, lurking in the shadows of existence with a familial fondness of the little Shelby girl who carries the glow of an angel above her head that would ensure no men, from Birmingham or further afield would have to go through every Solomons and Shelby loyal man up and down the country before a hair on (y/n) Shelby’s head was messed. Tommy holds hope somewhere deep in his heart that his little sister will never have to see violence aimed at her, and that for as long as she lives she knows that she is instantaneously loved, dearly held in every heart and ferociously protected by some of Britain’s most dangerous men.

#tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x sister reader #shelby sister reader #shelby!reader #baby!shelby #baby shelby #alfie solomons x baby!shelby #alfie solomons platonic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders blurb

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years ago

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Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

***3 months later***

A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

#erasermic #yandere erasermic #erasermic x reader #yandere erasermic x reader #erasermic smut #erasermic mha #erasermic bnha #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa smut #hizashi yamada #hizashi yamada x reader #hizashi yamada smut #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #hizashi yamada mha #hizashi yamada bnha

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years ago

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Kiss It All Better (Dr Stone)

Good morning/afternoon/evening to all: I bring you some fluffy Sengen this Sunday!

Okay so- I’m rewatching Dr Stone (because It’s my comfort anime now kldajkrejkarjk) and the sudden urge to write content hit me like a truck and now we’re here. I hope you like it! :D

TW: Scars

“Your hands are so scratched up.” Gen mused as he watched Senku unwrap them, the dirtied cloth falling away and revealing small red lines and marks. “How’d that happen?”

“That’s just the life of a scientist, Mentalist. Can’t expect to get through everything without a scratch.” Senku turned his hands back and forth, noting each little scar. “Nothing to worry about- most of these are old. They don’t hurt.”

Gen hummed, watching the other wash away the dirt and grime in a nearby basin. Now that he thought about it, he rarely saw Senku’s bare arms. Without the wrappings, he could make out little bumps and bruises from their ever going adventures in the village. Senku wasn’t clumsy, per say- that was just the nature of the stone world. You were bound to catch on something at some point.

“Waiting for me to take my shirt off?” He grinned at a now red faced Gen. “Sorry to disappoint- I already bathed earlier.”

“Boo, and here I thought I was going to get a show.” Gen sighed theatrically, earning a soft chuckle from the scientist. He patted the spot beside him on the cot, a new idea taking form in mind. “Hey, Senku-chan. Could I do that?”

Senku looked up from gathering the clean wrappings, raising a brow. “Do…?”

“Wrap your arms up. I’ve always wanted to try it.” Gen nodded, feeling himself grow excited. “I’m actually pretty good at wrapping limbs up!”

“Is that how you do your sleight of hand?” Senku sat beside him anyway, finishing up rolling the wrap until it was an easy to manage ball. “Hide things in the bandages you use?”

“You wound me. I’ve told you before I’m magic.” Gen gently took his arm, running his fingers along the skin as he feigned innocence. “I’ve never even heard of sleight of hand!”

“That’s ten billion percent bull, and you know it.” Senku snorted, squirming from the gentle ticklish feeling racing up his skin. “Though I can’t deny it’s been rather helpful in our situation. Not to mention entertaining.”

“But of course- I’m a wizard to the village, after all.” Gen turned Senku’s hand in his, eyes trailing over the small cuts. With the day washed away, the older, much lighter scars were easier to see. “Are these recent?”

“Post-stone age, if that’s what you mean. Making weapons and building a house from scratch proved to be…grueling.” Senku shuddered, the memory of all that labor making him wince. “I’m so glad we found our kingdom of science- it makes the whole “restoring humanity” thing that much easier when I don’t have to break my back.”

“Hm…” Gen hummed. Then, he raised Senku’s hand to his lips, gently pressing a kiss against the scarred skin.

“G-Gen?” Senku startled, eyes widening and a faint blush crossing over his cheeks. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing them all better.” Gen smiled sweetly. “Is this too much? I can stop if you're uncomfortable.”

“No it’s….it’s fine. I was just surprised, that’s all.” Senku relaxed, shaking his head as he took in what Gen said. “You do know kissing an old wound doesn’t actually do anything, right? Saliva has no real healing benefits to a year old scar.”

“Ever the scientist.” Gen smiled, kissing another scar lacing his knuckles. A kiss to the one curving up his palm, another to the one along the corner of his wrist. Once he was satisfied with his work, he gently took Senku’s other hand, repeating the process. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying “Kiss it all better?”

“I…have.” Senku muttered, feeling suddenly flustered by the other’s gentle touch. He should pull his hands away, say something about how Gen was supposed to be helping him wrap them up rather than kissing old wounds.

But he didn’t. Really, he simply didn’t want to. He found himself melting with each comforting touch.

It wasn’t until Gen had pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek when he realized how close he was. “What was that for? I don’t have any wounds there.” He laughed a tad breathlessly, trying not to get too lost in the other’s eyes.

“I just wanted to do that.” Gen smiled, resting his forehead against Senku’s. “Hey. Can I kiss you?”

“Of course you can.” Senku told him, letting his eyes fall shut as Gen’s lips found his own, sending waves of warmth across his body.

Okay, maybe there was some science behind kissing it all better.

Thanks for reading!

I’m just gonna casually tag y’all in this because sengen @skribblz @intheticklecloset

#dr stone #senku ishigami #Gen asagiri #sengen #fluff #non tickle #all the kisses for Senku #he deserves them #I had a mighty need for some soft as heck sengen #thanks for reading!#I'm just gonna post and run *Yeets out of here*#tw: scars

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hydrangeathief · 3 years ago

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forduary 2022 week 1: fordxsleep

Can’t sleep can’t stop have to keep moving have to keep going can’t rest can’t relax can’t ever–

Unconsciousness, when it comes, is a blessing. The blow to the back of his head sends a loud clang! reverberating through his skull and bouncing off the metal plate in his forehead, bright bursts of light blossoming before his eyes, and Stanford’s knees hit the mud with a dull thud. He pitches forward, barely catching himself, twisting and writhing and trying desperately to turn around and face the Thing behind him before it can sink its claws into his back and rip and tear and shred and make him bleed make him hurt make him die–

Ford blinks himself awake. He’s been doing that a lot lately. He’s been awake for six days.

The Thing is still on top of him. Distantly he can feel claws sinking into the skin of his ribcage, hot pricks of pain that doesn’t quite register past the exhaustion, past the all encompassing need to stop and lay down awhile. The wet, sticky mud under his back is quickly becoming tinted with hot, shiny red.

There’s a gun in his hand. He pulls the trigger. The Thing shrieks and suddenly it’s gone, or maybe Ford just faded from consciousness again, because he blinks and when he opens his eyes it’s dark. Stars litter the cosmos. The twin moons of this planet hang full and round in the dim yellow sky.

Twin moons. Twin brothers. Huh.

Ford blacks out.

“You alright there, Sixer?” Stanley asks.

Ford hums. He’d been dozing, drifting peacefully in the warm sun on the deck of their little boat. The sky is brilliant blue and clear above him, sun dazzling and blinding, sending sharp glints of light bouncing off the tops of gentle waves. The ship bobs up and down and Ford leans further back into his lawn chair, sun warmed and content.

“Drifting through memories, that’s all,” he says. He can still feel the claws of the Thing digging into his ribs, tight and squeezing and hot and sharp, but the old scars are long healed and long covered by newer, fresher ones. The sun eases away the memories of pain and gentles them, time soothing the haze of exhaustion and fear into something simpler, something manageable.

“Don’t drift too far,” Stan says. He casts his reel. He’d been fishing on deck since the early hours of the morning, but not catching much, though his mood hasn’t been dampened. Perhaps it’s just the simple act of fishing, Ford muses. Perhaps it’s the open ocean and the salty breeze and the companionable silence of someone long missed and well loved.

“I won’t,” Ford assures him. He flops a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun and sighs contentedly. He feels a bit like a housecat on a patch of warm hardwood, content to drowsily spend the day in thought.

“Good, ‘cause I only got one lifeboat! Heyo!” Stan says, and laughs loudly at his own joke. Ford snorts, more to acknowledge the pun than out of actual humor, but Stan grins at him all the same. Ford finds himself smiling back.

They lapse into comfortable silence.

The last time Ford felt genuinely comfortable falling asleep was a lifetime ago, before he’d made colossal mistakes that could have cost him everything, before he’d seen and done and experienced so much. The last time Ford felt safe with his guard so far down was so long ago that he can’t even remember it. Perhaps he never felt completely safe. Perhaps the last time is buried somewhere deep in childhood, memories lost to time and pain and struggle.

But here, on this boat, in the middle of the sun-kissed ocean, with Stanley whistling idly nearby, Ford feels okay. He feels… right.

And isn’t that something?

The enormity of it is enough to make his breath hitch. For so long he’d been running, been hiding, been focused solely on living to see the next day, the next planet, the next dimension. He’d been starved and beaten and betrayed and hunted and nearly died on so many occasions that he still can’t quite believe he made it through all that alive. In some dimensions there’s still a bounty on his head high enough to make even the best person do horrible, terrible things. In some dimensions he’s the most wanted criminal on any planet, dead or alive. In some dimensions he has been a harbinger of doom, a horseman of some apocalypse or another, a bringer of destruction.

In this dimension, Stanford leans back in his chair and closes his eyes against the sun. He hums along absently to whatever song his brother is whistling. He plants his bare feet on the deck of his boat and anchors himself to this reality, this time.

When he wakes up, Ford is going to have one hell of a sunburn and a very amused twin brother on his hands, but for now, that doesn’t matter. For now, he just relaxes, and feels safe, and falls asleep.

#YES this is late YES it's weirdly written #YES im posting it anyway!#gravity falls #forduary #ford x sleep #fic #a post from me

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lonely-lost-soul · 4 years ago

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Under The Floorboards pt. IIII

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V

Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down.

“Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?”

The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place.

“Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.

“How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side.

“I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”

“Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him.

“That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you.

Jackass.

“Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you.

“Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”

“Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention.

“I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.”

Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”

“Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him.

“Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.” The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously,

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear.

Technoblade was going to lose his shit.

---

All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you.

“That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull,

“What Tommy?”

“Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable.

“T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head:

‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword.

Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.

A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid.

“Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him.

‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.

“What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken.

“The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied.

“That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?”

“What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down.

“I’m single.”

“Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist.

“Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly.

“Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you,

“See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully.

“She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft”

“Not brothers and I don’t like him.”

“Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly.

Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug.

“(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms.

“Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.”

“Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?”

“I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.”

“WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!”

“Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay.

All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.

~~~

I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨

#dream smp #dreamsmp x reader #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt #minecraft fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #blood for the blood god #rp

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prettyboykatsuki · 4 years ago

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ღ what being loved by them feels like | bnha edition ღ

➳ incl. midoriya, bakugo, todoroki, and kirishima.

➳ tags / warnings ;; food ment, alcohol ment.

➳ wc ;; 1.9k

➳ a/n ;; should be gn i think but im tired asf so lmk

i. midoriya izuku

Slow.

It’s an unspoken promise of forever tucked under his tongue when he speaks to you. The comfort of a strong hand on your shoulder, an arm around your waist as he whispers to you some drunken secret. It’s not meant to be romantic, not exactly - when your friends ask you about it you always respond the same way.

“It’s just Midoriya,” with a passive glance somewhere else, a dismissive hand shaking away the disbelief that someone so extraordinary could love you. It is disbelief, effervescent in how it fills your stomach with that tingly feeling. Midoriya takes it slowly.

Being loved by him feels like a Sunday. Not in how it’s the mark of something but a reminder of repition, how good it feels to do something over and over again. There is so much to love about a Sunday afternoon, the comfort of knowing there is always another Sunday that comes after. That the luxury of warmth that stretches so far it is no longer a commodity.

You don’t have to worry about when the next time will be. Midoriya loves you in a such a way that next time is every time. That your happiness is not something to supplement but to nurture - with presence and patience and tender care. You wonder how someone with such reckless abandon can love so carefully, with nimble fingers that zip up the back of your dress when you ask.

Midoriya loves you with his hands. Always with gnarled flesh and scars to the bone - that brush so eagerly against your own. Sometimes, he blushes. He never gets used to your comfortable intimacy - not at first. That slow love has a habit of being embarassing. It’s friendly, supposed to be anyways. But something about the way he’s encased your hand with his, the silence the blossoms and blooms. You wonder if he’s always been so warm - you tell him as much.

He replies with a gentle voice, a wistful smile and reply - “Only for you,”

You stare at him, wide-eyed - like somehow this is some kind of confession, and he laughs. He laughs deep from his chest and the sound is too much. Midoriya has loved you so slowly, you seem not to have realized that every word from his mouth is a confession. It’s sweet, sticky like honey how it drips onto your tongue. You find yourself drinking it without thinking, without realizing how it’s the only thing you can taste when he’s next to you.

Being loved by him is a slow feeling - the kind of love that stretches comfortably over time like old jeans. He always seems to fit you just right, like he was made for you. He likes to think so, anyway.

ii. bakugo katsuki

Sober.

It’s the kind of love you’d expect to intoxicate you. Rattle inside of your lungs as it pushes against your ribs, the kind that makes you drunk off of adrenaline. There’s something about him that is fast, like the flash of an explosion. You’d believe he would love you before you could catch him in your palms. It is a cold can of coffee pressed to your cheek, a clanking knee as you sit next to each other on the concrete.

You are fallen trees, a reminder that even something with roots need someone to hold them sometimes - that is natures will to lean against each other when the world has stopped holding you up. That when you are to fall, someone will be there to listen to the sound of your melancholy. He is evidence of your sorrow, the one that keeps you steady when gravity has failed you not once, but many times.

He holds your face in his untrustworthy hands, the ones that carry the weight of his violence. Clicking his teeth as he leans your head back, wiping the corners of your mouth of crumbs with his thumb, wet with his saliva. Something off-handed leaves his lips, something like “eat carefully, dumbass,” right to the core of your humanity as you move forward.

Being loved by him is like hangover food. It’s the sated warmth in your belly, settled in your chest. Your mouth enveloping a comforting thing - leaves your body so light, you don’t ask about when the next time you’ll have it. This is enough to feed you - hold you off until your body needs to feel full again. You are never hungry. Satisfaction without sedation. A love without any misery. It is fullness that keeps you steady.

It’s when he touches you. He uses a strong hand to push your knees down from where they’re tucked, drags you to him until your weight leans on his lap. He enraptures your body like you are something to be kept safe. Keeps you and holds you there when you bristle in discomfort. His chin rests on your shoulder as he holds you to his chest.

“Why do you love about me, anyway,” you ask, mumble quietly like you are afraid he will hear you.

“Everything, dumbass,”

He means it like he only does with you. When your heart doesn’t race, doesn’t run, doesn’t flee from his love but slows, steadies and waits. He won’t let you escape from his sincerity. He keeps you in the center of his love - in the palm of his hands because you are the everything. You must face it with sobriety. A mind free of any misgivings, a heart that beats in sync with his like a soft thump. A familiar, shared rhythm.

Love that leaves you fixed in middle court, with the lights left to create halo around you. A temperate, sober love.

iii. todoroki shouto.

Heavy.

It’s not an unpleasant weight to bear. Love that is given carefully, like a mallet on hot iron - it strikes you before it becomes something. It’s love that is tangible, before it is anything else. It curves the wires around you, makes a frame of your body before it covers you with fur to keep your warmth. You are the muse for the sculptors hands. Once he has found you, his gaze is funneled towards the curve of your smile. There is nothing else for his sights to linger on, nothing else for him to see.

His stormy eyes speak languages that have been lost to the common tongue. They are the ones that whisper melodies of you - that squint and widen and shift to the sound of your beating your heart. Todoroki loves you like he is re-learning an ancient tongue - which is to say, he is trying to remember what love feels like as he has long forgotten it. With clumsiness tucked into his belt loops, anxiety looped around his shoulders - always reminded of the kind of lover he cannot be for you.

His love is heavy because he puts himself into it. It’s heavy like the spring downpour, showers you until your skin sticks to your clothes and hang and clings desperately to your frame. You give up warmth for invigoration - how your soaked bones feel so lively as love washes over them. Cleansing like a baptism and thrice as holy, Todoroki’s love is what’s like when he meshes all of himself. Not ice that freezes, nor fire that scorches but a heavy and forgiving rain.

It is an easy morning - the comfort of a chest and its lungs - soft, even breathing as world becomes quiet outside. Fingers that dance over your sides, trace little artworks down your side and on your hips - lips that kiss the crown of your head. It is the warm hello as your eyes flutter open, the way his gaze pins you to your bed and makes sure it’s the last place you want to be.

His love is heavy, so heavy that every word of love he’s ever told you, you carry. It brings you strength when he tells you

“Good morning, my love,”

“Shouto,” you will mumble, with drooping eyes. Todoroki will smile like a half-moon, taper into a full grin until you can see his joy on display. He knocks his forehead into yours with something needy on the corners of mouth. He finds himself overwhelmed, wraps his arms all around you and squeezes.

“Sho, baby - you’re heavy,” through a series of giggles. He sighs, buries his nose into your shoulder and hums some song he’s made just for you.

“Sorry,”

“Don’t be,”

iv. kirishima eijirou

Aching.

It aches like a bruise weeks after its arrivals, a dull and gentle kind of ache that doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. It’s not that Kirishima makes you ache, but that loving him is a reminder of your growing pains. To love so much it aches is to love hard enough to bruise, to crush your ribs in the pursuit of adoration. It is the way his large palms rest at the nape of your neck, smooth down your chest with a comfort of presence.

It’s the hand that holds onto yours a little too tight, the way he grips onto you like you are going to disappear. He loves like how an ache stays - refuses to go anywhere no matter how much medicine you take. Love sickness is a deadly disease that creeps up on your spine. A bruise on your tailbone that doesn’t let you rest until you remember it. There’s such thing as a pleasant - like the kind of pains that makes us grit our teeth with a smile.

It’s yearning. The kind that takes place in ritual - the kind that you see when he takes your shoes off your sore feet. It’s the kiss on your calves and the strong hands that massage the knots in your legs, the whisper of “’m sorry,” when you help from the pain. It is love that hurts until it doesn’t anymore, until you realize that it had been trying to make you feel better all along.

After all, it is a growing pain - and all growing pains must stop aching eventually. Kirishima loves you and it hurts - it is like how we fall in love, afraid of what will find us when our feet touch the ground. Love without soreness is love without relief. It is a bruising force, and unwilling strength that only someone unbreakable could harbor. A wall that will never fall, a love that will never stop pushing. We must break something before it’s to be repaired, must break it down to it’s bare essentials.

His love is commiserating. It’s the togetherness that only dawn can bring when you’ve lost sight of everything but each other. The shadows of your lashes on your cheek and how he kisses them like they are going somewhere. Sunshine that brings pleasant warmth to your skin. Love that stains your skin, makes it thrum underneath the surface and runs through all of you like blood. It’s love that bleeds just as much as it heals.

Kirisihimas love is nothing short of an aching - a longing deep in your shoulders, settled in your collarbones. The kind that can only be soothed by endurance, acceptance. How he loves the parts of you that you cannot find beautiful. He faces it all head on like a wall must.

“Eiji,” with a trembling lip, a tired hand against his chest as he cups your face. You don’t remember why you’re crying but it aches a little when he smiles, grins with sharp teeth.

“I love you, baby,” he says with a trembling lip, wet eyes “God, I love you so much,”

#bakugou x reader #midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #writing tag #deku x reader

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