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heavenbloom · 28 days ago

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🇵🇸🇱🇧 BEFORE YOU READ: DONATE TO PALESTINIAN FAMILIES • EMERGENCY FUND FOR MARGINALISED WORKERS IN LEBANON • BOYCOTT TLOU

𓊝 — 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚 | 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫!𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐱 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

song: golden hair — slowdive

summary: the ocean is a trepidatious force. abby has never felt its power until she falls into the hands of a siren, a dark and ruinous mistress of the sea.

warnings: mdni 18+, smut, fingering (r!receiving), hair pulling (a!receiving), mentions of death, mentions of religion, profanities, afab reader, reader is a mythical creature and comes off as cold and detached from humanity, set in an unspecified time in the past, a bit of hatred between the two, toxic dynamics, abby is down bad, not proofread

a/n: this is a semi rewrite of a fic i posted on my old blog last year! i don’t have time to write new things at the moment so please accept this even though it’s not my best 🧍

The ground beneath Abby was rough, cold in a way that immediately told her that she was not in the stuffy warmth of the sailor's quarters. Her eyes were screwed shut, her head blaring for relief and her body soaked to the bone. She was not where she was meant to be.

She took a moment, a breath, to regain her bearings, eyes opening to slits. A void met her, nothing visible in the pitch black.

She let no panic inflate her chest or scratch at her already dry throat. To survive the sea for so long was a miracle, and those who rode its waves knew that being fearful was useless, since besting such a beast was impossible. The sea chose her victims indiscriminately, and it seemed that Abby was not one of them. Not in this moment, at least.

She instead shifted focus to her other senses to understand where she was. She reached her arms out on either side, feeling the jaggedness of the moist ground. Her ears picked up a consistent drip, drip, drip and the sound of distant crashing water. The briny taste of the ocean was still sharp on her tongue... she was still near the sea. Good.

As she laid there, her brain strayed to the events leading up to her predicament. She was unaware of how she got here, but she recalled the crashing of the hull against wrathful waves, her fellow sailors staggering back and forth on deck as salty tendrils whipped the ship about. There was frenzy as the crew’s prayers to gods and pantheons from all over filled the air, to either rescue them or welcome them into the afterlife with open arms.

Abby had stayed silent, jaw clenched. There was no deity that she believed in, no soothing prayer that could save her from a sinking, air-absent demise. All that encompassed her mind was, it is fitting that I die here. A frothy headstone to mark her vast grave, a silence settling into her bones.

She remembered her acceptance being cut short by a stillness that came about so suddenly, a golden haze. Then, the first gentle notes of a beautiful hymn...

It was something otherworldly, she was aware of that much. But why did the recollection of it elude her?

As she tried to remember the notes of it, she stilled at a gentle tone caressing her ears. The same song.

Abby's eyes shot open at the intrusion of noise, blue eyes boring into nothingness. It was lilting and lullaby-soft, the loveliest voice she had ever heard, perhaps. But its foreign, silky words and the power gently thrumming beneath its cadence made her spine tremble.

There were many cruel, monstrous things beneath the sea's depths, but there was only one described as so beautiful. Sweet death, they nicknamed the thing. There were only ever stories about them though, for they were as good as legend. Nobody had ever lived to tell the tale of the real thing, these stories made clear. Their victims' long-forgotten bones rested on sandy ocean beds, now used to pick the teeth of these fearsome creatures.

The fear that she had such good grasp on began to bleed into the corners of her passiveness, an inkling of dread. A shipwreck she could handle. A shipwreck caused by one of the most indomitable predators of the seven seas was another thing entirely.

"Sea witch," Abby hissed through gritted teeth, voice pained and hazy. Concentration was a task when all she wanted to do was melt into the gentle arms of your song. But she was no man, no simple sailor. It would take a lot more than this to subdue her.

You stopped singing, only to laugh at her in the near-off distance, still shrouded by darkness. It rang through the space like the distant sound of church bells in a steeple.

"I am no witch, mortal," you spoke perfectly, to her surprise. It was a voice dripping with strength, lightning crackling along the surface of a still lake. “You are all the same. We use your own desires against you and you claim it to be magic… pitiful.”

Abby did not want to care about the implications of your words. You knew nothing about her or her desires. How could one ever want this?

There was a bite to her voice now. "I am uninterested in your games, siren." Even so…

Against all her loathing, her breath quickened as she strained to find you in the darkness. She thought that, as a woman, she would be immune to a siren's charms if they ever did prove to be real, but it seemed not to be the case. Your voice alone was a thing swathed in ethereality, and she needed to see what such a being looked like.

There was dead quiet before the space began to fill with a deep blue light, radiating off of where water seeped in. She sat herself up now despite the throbbing ache in her body, mesmerised as the light pulsed throughout what she now realised was an enclosed cave. Beautiful was the first word that floated to her head. Then a scathing, correctional, unnatural.

After a moment of distraction, she searched for you again, but you were nowhere to be seen. Disappointment dropped in her gut like a pin, but it was enough to ignore the prickle of curiosity that slid up her neck and reddened her cheeks.

"I have said it once already. Your games are of no interest to me, sea witch," she yelled into the cold cavern as evenly as she could muster. "Come on then, enjoy your damn feast."

Perhaps it was foolish to mock something immortal. A beat of silence passed, then another. A soft thud hit the jutting ground of the cave, barely audible amongst the sound of lapping water and Abby’s own chattering teeth.

"I do not care much for feasting on women"," you whispered, mere inches behind her. The hairs on her neck stood on end, alert to your presence. “Not many are led astray… and the ones that are? Well…”

She felt that same dizzying urge to gaze upon you. She turned in the direction of your voice, and this time you made no effort to conceal yourself.

Your bare body was adorned in pearlescent scales, shimmering and reflecting the rich light that danced around the cave. Your hair was damp and it stuck your cheeks in wispy swirls. But it was your eyes, gods, your eyes that she lingered on the most. Alluring and deep, they demanded every morsel of her attention.

What most enchanted Abby was the way you looked so human despite everything, the softness of your being comparable to a maiden onshore. Whenever Abby thought of a siren, she imagined jutting scales from spine, sharp teeth that could put a blade to shame, talons built to rip stocky men to shreds, eyes the off-white of drops of sour milk. The only unsettling thing about you were the slits on your neck, like that of a shark.

Her gaze lingered on your captivating person, drawn to it like moth to a flame. She supposed your appearance made more sense now. Beauty would always strike a person dead before terror ever could. As her heart hammered in her chest, she began to wonder whether the two were intertwined.

"Then... then why, pray tell, did you not let me drown?"

Your surprisingly soft hands came to her chin. Fingers traced her strong jawline, drew a line to her collarbone before softly grazing them over one clothed shoulder. She shivered beneath your touch but did not dare to move away, did not want to. Your hands were the coldness of the deep undersea, as if they had never witnessed the sun before. She wanted to grab them, breathe warmth and life into your inhuman palms… had the sea water left her brain addled?

Your eyes flicked from her arm, where the linen of her undershirt clung to a muscled bicep, back to blue eyes that appeared black in the deep light.

"You were lured by me. I believed you to be a man. I only had a glimpse of your silhouette before you were in my arms, fighting for air, and then I realised. I suppose you could say... your strength as a woman is one I have not yet witnessed."

You gave her shoulder a gentle, intrigued squeeze.

"That is why I saved you, human. Nothing more and nothing less.”

The shivers that racked her body quieted. You expected her to either shy away or move closer, but she did neither. She remained unmoving, staring at you with an expression that warped back and forth between contempt and desire.

“Will you eat me now that your curiosity has been satisfied? Or will you keep me here as a little pet to ogle at whenever you grow bored?” It was a question with teeth, directed to mock your intentions. Her eyes shone with repulsion but also anticipation as she waited for your answer. Did she want to stay shackled to you until she wasted away or you finally decided on what to do with her? Is that what she wanted?

Such a foolish woman she was to question your motivations, but all that rose within you was a light amusement, like that of an onlooker watching a butterfly flit about in a glass case. You had the upper hand. It was you, after all, who lured her into the raging tides to begin with. And it continued to be you who kept her fate clutched in your grasp, still undecided on whether you should squash or embrace her. You cared for none of the furious emotions that roiled in her little, mortal heart,. But entertainment? That could be found in toying with her, just a little.

You moved closer to her once again, humming softly as your hand met her damp and matted braid. Your fingers found the piece of leather knotted around it and you slid it undone. Your fingers raked through the tangled mass gently, with the sweet slowness of a lover. She could almost believe that were the case when her mind started to fog, if not for the chorus of voices screaming within her through the haze. This is wrong, this is wrong.

Each movement of yours set your body alight. Abby had seen a myriad of the night's constellations, but they did not hold a candle to your ethereality. She felt the reigns she held on her convictions slipping. How could this be immoral when this proximity felt like a thing of fate, a thing meant to be?

Your voice was the purest of sugar, sweet and addictive.

"I believe you," your hands found their way out of her hair and to her chest, palms resting flat, "are the one that has been captivated." Your mouth was close, a finger-span distance away from hers. You could feel the way her body tensed, a sharp intake of breath without the release.

"You hate it, do you not?” you continued, tilting your head. That I am the only thing about the sea that can make you feel vulnerable? Admit it... I frighten you."

The blonde woman did not trust her mouth to form coherent words, not when you smelled so familiar, like salt and windswept sea foam. This wasn’t fear, it was something else, itching just beneath the skin and begging to break through. You were too close.

Damn it all.

There was a hesitance in her movements before her mouth descended upon yours abruptly. There was no rhythm to the way her lips pushed against yours, beastly in an overuse of teeth and tongue. You responded almost instantaneously, your mouth dancing against hers with the perfection centuries of seducing countless others sculpted. There was a dim recognition of this as she pressed herself against you and lowered you to the rough ground. She wanted to be the last one you tasted like this. The last one you harboured any kind of mercy for.

She had not prayed on that ship before the wreck, but as she relished in your lips she knew that she had been a fool to shun the notion of holiness. This was divinity. This body, cold and devoid of life. These lips, experienced and deliciously deceitful and tasting oh-so-familiar.

You were the celestial force in which she never believed. She had no altar to pray at yet, but she would carve one out right here, in the depths of your iridescent body. Her kisses would be her offerings. Her heavy, desperate breaths would be the choir.

She pulled back slightly to gaze at your face. Your eyes, glinting with challenge, compelled her to go further. Your icy arms engulfed her shoulders, pulling the brawn of her body, that pulsing human warmth, closer. You could feel her hummingbird heartbeat against your collarbone, could hear the blood pumping through her system again and again, a song all on its own.

Heat pooled in your core, the feeling almost foreign to you after years of its dormancy. There was something so delectable about letting a being inferior to you in, to taste and touch and fuck something that could eat her alive.

Her brows were knitted together, eyes wide pits of blazing blue lust. She was waiting for it, a silent plea in the drag of her teeth against her plump bottom lip and the phantom feel of her palms over your scaled skin. Who were you to deny such muted acts of devotion?

With a honeyed smile, you took one of her large hands in yours, and rested it against your sternum. Searing heat bloomed through your chest and downwards as you guided her wind-chafed palm. The ribcage, the belly button, the divot where stomach gives way to sensitive flesh.

Her breath hitched, eyes droopy as she rocked back onto her haunches. Your legs were sprawled so prettily, iridescent thighs gleaming in the little light there was. She watched as the hand latched around her wrist led her to your folds. Beneath her fingertips, your cunt felt like unspooled silk. It was impossible to suppress the tremor that passed through her.

“Well?” Your voice penetrated the fervoured veil that threatened to swallow her whole. “Cease your gawking, human.” A command. An invitation.

Abby traced her fingers down your slit gently, then parted them. Her lips opened at the feeling of just how soaked you were, breath coming ragged and cheeks painted red at the dewiness of your cunt.

She slipped one finger in with ease, a sigh floating out of her mouth as her middle finger followed suit. Pure velvet, it was heaven wrapped around them. Her wrist trembled, body temperature reaching a feverish pitch as she pumped and curled them within your snug cunt. She watched as your body arched, that same saccharine voice echoing through the cave in a chorus of loud breaths and rhapsodic moans.

She admired the way your body had become an instrument beneath her touch. It was like plucking a harp string, hearing its divine tune ring out and watching as it wobbles and wavers from the force.

She pressed her weight to you, the way the sea and the earth meet on shorelines. Shallow puffs of air were hot against your cheek as she continued her ministrations, face one deep pool of lust as she lifted you higher, molten pleasure building within your gut so rapidly that all you could do to buoy yourself was pull at the knotted mass of her golden hair.

She pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your jaw, to the neck that reminded her over and over that you were not hers, but a vicious thing of the sea. Even then, that could not fizzle the blaze burning within her with each buck against her thigh, each drawled out praise spoken against her lips like dove-soft prayers. She was well aware of what you were, and yet you were heady all the same, like too much ale on a star-riddled night.

For the second time perhaps in her life as a sailor, her mind pulsed with a rare revelation. Sweet was its honesty now, she would be content if it were to be so;

It is fitting that I die here.

#this is a dumpster fire but HERE U GO #the premise of this fic walked so my knight abby fic could run #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #the last of us #abby anderson smut #tlou writing #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #tlou #abby anderson x you

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ajokeformur-ray · 1 month ago

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My thoughts on Joker: Folie à Deux

Now that I'm done sobbing and it's been a few hours since I left the cinema with my roommate, I've put the first Joker on for comfort while I write this.

Spoilers below the cut for anyone who hasn't seen it.

We all know that I was one of those "I don't want a sequel" girlies and in a way, I still am. I maintain that Joker didn't need a sequel, it was a perfect standalone. But, surprisingly, I enjoyed this film as it was.

It was very dark, gritty, the things we didn't get to see because they were only implied were things which stuck with me long after leaving the cinema, it was ambitious with Lee but didn't quite go as far as I would have liked with her; she had so much more potential and I thought we were gonna get that when she smashed the shop window to get a small TV with which to see her Joker on with a very sweetly spoken "excuse me" and then walked away without a fuss. It was gorgeously arranged, the songs were perfectly selected and I adore that That's Life played during the start and end; it brought our beloved Arthur to a full circle. And, most importantly, it was faithful to our Arthur. That's what I and so many others were afraid of, that this sequel would butcher our boy, but it didn't. It was faithful to him to the bitter, tragic end.

Joker was gorgeous. He was... so realistic, so raw and real and in pain, he was everything I always wanted this universe's Joker to be. I've always said in my fics and posts that Arthur didn't want to be Joker, it was something which the general public put onto him and he never wanted it, he just wanted to be seen, heard, accepted and loved for who he was, and even when he exposed his pain on national TV, he wasn't given that. He was ignored, spoken for rather than listened to, and then in this new film that carried on happening until yet again he stood up for himself and took what he knew to be right. He's the best advocate for himself and it's a lesson I need to learn from him a bit more than I have done before. But I digress... Joker was so perfect. And his little comedy moments did have me giggling, even through my tears at various points in the film.

I enjoyed the difference between how Joker and Arthur were considered, though we all know that the lawyer's initial defense, as well meaning as it was, was not it. Arthur was never gonna walk out of there without consequences and we all knew it. The constant switches between his delusions as Joker and the way he was stood still in Arkham or the courtroom were so well done, and I liked how murder was used against himself while he was waging between doing what people were telling him to do, and what he wanted to do for himself.

I was begging for Arthur to do the right thing the whole way through the trial, even though I knew what it would mean for him, and in the end he chose himself just like he did in the first film, and it was the bravest thing he could have done. It was utterly devastating, but in the end I think the way he chose to go down was the right way. He could have either continued being Joker and gone down being known for someone he wasn't and someone he had never been, or he could stand up, admit to who he is and display emotional maturity and speak for himself.

He chose the latter and I'm, in a very bittersweet way, grateful. I sobbed through most of the film but in the end, Arthur was himself, and it was so brave and so heartbreaking. This film was, at the end of it all, as true to Arthur as Arthur ended up being to himself (and I think it was because Gary's testimony and tearful "why are you doing this to me?" that was the catalyst behind Arthur making this fateful decision), and it was... it was so hard to watch, very difficult to stomach, but also I am proud of myself for going. I really didn't want to, I didn't, but Arthur would have gone to see us if the situation was reversed, and not going to see this film would have felt like abandonment of our boy... I didn't want to do that. I'm glad I went, but I'll probably take a long time before I'm able to watch it again, if I ever can.

The last scene especially shattered me, but I think that from a narrative point of view, it makes sense. Arthur was a tragedy, through and through. Though, he's an unreliable narrator, so who knows if we saw what we all think we saw? It was the perfect end for Arthur, as horrific, cruel, and brutal as it was, but the inmate was wrong... it wasn't at all what he deserved.

Our Arthur deserved sunshine, cuddles for days, kisses in the rain, dancing, singing, he deserved comedy nights and a dancing partner, he deserved so much more than what he got.

And the irony is that the people complaining that this Joker wasn't the Joker they wanted are literally proving the core message of the film; Arthur isn't Joker. He was never Joker, and that's why he was abandoned by so many in the film; by Lee, by those dressed like Joker, by everyone who wanted him to be someone he wasn't... he was given that title by people who didn't know him, people who didn't want to know him, Gothamites who used him and his crimes to justify and further their own political agenda, and, in the real world, by those complaining that this Joker isn't the Joker they wanted.

Arthur is Arthur Fleck, he's always been Arthur Fleck. He was willing to die to make that point, so in the end he died for himself, and it was so brave and courageous and heartbreaking.

I walked out of the cinema sobbing the hardest I've cried for a long time, but so much more in love with Arthur Fleck than I was before. I just want to tell him how sorry I am, and how loved he is by all of us. That's what he deserves.

❤️💚💙🤍

#joker 2 #joker: folie à deux #arthur fleck

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gonnalosemydougdimmadomedamnmind · 1 year ago

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It's literally impossible to read bat fanfiction because it's all based off those ridiculous fanon tropes that spread like crazy and people take as fucking biblical!!!!! Dick was never a jerk to Jason when he was Robin- they got along because Dick is mature as hell and in one retelling- Jason was a jerk to him!! And when he came back as Red Hood he had literally not a single damn reason to treat Dick like shit! Not a damn one! But he did, didn't he? Cause he's the fucking asshole! How dare you make Dick grovel towards that bastard! Dick has only ever tried to help him! Reached out during his Batman run, over and over! Also- Dick never put Jason in Arkham with Joker just a few cells down???? What the fuck! The Joker and all those other fuckers had been broken out of Arkham by Black Mask already for like the whole run??? Jason went to Arkham after losing to Dick, and Gordon put him in there because One he fucking deserved it, Two the literal circumstances?? And at that point!! Arkham was fucking rehabilitated itself!! By Dick!!! Because Bruce had him go undercover there for real, and Dick was actually tortured there before he got out!! So Dick put in the work to get that shit in order to actually help people!!

Dick never chose Damian over Tim- Tim refused to engage with him over his grief, shut him out, and left of his own devices! He never told Dick his suspicions on why Bruce was alive, never! And Tim is not the one to bring Bruce back either, there's a whole team at that point! Dick learns Bruce is alive through tossing his 'dead' body into a pit and the body comes to life as a zombie. Tim didn't tell him shit! Tim is also not a little crybaby- Damian cutting his line was a fucking blip on the page, he was momentarily shocked, that was it! He put Damian on his Hit List, which is why Damian cut his line. And his first attempt at "murder" is just pushing Tim off the dinosaur statue in the cave, he didn't go all assassin on him! Also Dick wasn't even there the first incident and wasn't told about the second incident. Alfred is the one who gave Damian Robin and Dick accepted him because he saw that Damian needed help! He needed guidance! He didn't fucking fire Tim the way Bruce fired him, and fuck all of you for thinking that Tim or Jason or fucking anyone has more right over Robin than Dick Fucking Grayson! He tried to promote Tim and Tim walked off. How dare yall make Dick fucking grovel towards that bastard!!!

Jason did try to kill all three of them!! Why does everyone just gloss over that like what the fuck??? Why does he get a pass for every shitty thing he's done??? "Bad writing" stfu this is the same dude that without hesitation kills random criminals, people who deal drugs, do you know how many random ass people deal drugs??? Jason doesn't give a single shit about being his own type of hero or saving Gotham his own way, nor do the people think of him as their savior!! Are you people fucking delusional?? I saw a post that said citizens would trust Jason over CASS and I cannot Believe the hallucinations yall are seeing???

It is literally downright impossible to find fics about Dick or Damian or Cass or fucking any of them that doesn't include these literal bullshit fanon takes!!! It's impossible!!! This fandom sucks!!!! You don't even need to go buy the comics, all these popular takes have been debunked right here on tumblr!!!! Also Dick can do literally everything!! He's hypercompetent as hell, die mad about it!! Jason doesn't like Wonder Woman???? Where the fuck did that come from??? Wayne Family Adventures is not real!!! Those people could not BE more out of character!!! Look at Bruce for crying out loud!!! Yall know that man ain't act like that!

Edit: leaving this here in case anyone wonders what my hot take is towards this question I was asked: "have you considered tho, that fanon is more fun..."

Well of course fanon is more fun if you're a fan of Jason or Tim. Fanon actively caters towards those two pasty white boys. Fanon actively shits on Dick and Damian though. And for Dick? He literally never did that shit! It is all made up! It's literal character assassination?? But by the fans?? And for Damian? He was 10!!! He grew up as an assassin! He was actively trying to grow with Dick's help! How can yall see him as the bad guy?? And not the literal bad guy, (Jason), and the 17 teen year old who literally fought him back btw, (Tim), like old boy did not act victimized the way you people portray. And Jesus for Cass? Cass is just a prop in fanon. So what exactly about this should be fun to me? Like seriously.

#dc comics #batman #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #anti jason todd #anti tim drake #anti batfamily fans #fanon bullshit #bat fans suck #i hate this place!!!#cant read anything!!!#bruce wayne #my posts

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pastafossa · 1 month ago

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"Don't Let Go" (Michael Kinsella x F!Reader, Fic)

Time for Day Six of the Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! I chose the angst prompt, "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." with Michael Kinsella! I originally planned to use all three prompts (the above plus 'love bites' and 'spread your legs for me') but this one just sorta worked beautifully focusing on the angst prompt alone, despite my plan. May come back and do a sequel with the other two prompts eventually. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings for this chapter: angst, blood, injury care, mention of reader briefly held hostage, language, mention of domestic violence, some shouting and breaking things (Michael is very angry here, just not at you).

His hands shaking, Michael cleaned you up in the bathroom.

You weren’t sure if that tremor was due to fear, or… or exhaustion, maybe. He probably hadn’t gotten much sleep the past two nights while you’d been missing, held captive in an abandoned building by a group of men who’d been looking to blackmail the Kinsella family. It hadn’t worked out well for them based on the dead bodies you’d seen when Michael had grimly carried you out past his brothers, his hands stained heavily with blood and smelling of fresh gunpowder.

It was those hands—the very same hands that had so recently dealt out death and destruction—that now tended gently to your wounds. With barely a word save a soothing murmur whenever you winced, he washed away the crusted grime and dried blood from your body in the shower before settling you down on the side of the porcelain tub. Once you were comfortable, he set about cleaning out and bandaging the bloody cuts on your hands and face, the torn skin on your wrists left by the handcuffs, and the burns along your forearm from the cigarettes one man had decided to put out against your skin when you’d spat in his face.

With every injury Michael cared for, however, the more his hands shook, his breathing growing sharper, hissing out from between his clenched teeth.

No. This wasn’t fear or exhaustion making his hands shake, you realized. This was…

He rose from where he’d been kneeling in front of you. He stared down at you for a moment with those dark eyes of his, taking all of you in for the first time since bringing you back home—taking in every last swollen bruise and vicious cut, every bandage and mark of pain left behind by those who had wanted to harm his family by using you against him.

…This was rage.

He snatched up the first aid kit, turned, and hurled it with a furious scream. It shattered against the wall in the hall, its impact leaving a crumbling hole in the drywall. Gauze and ointment, bottles of pills and splinters of plastic scattered left and right.

“Michael,” you said weakly. “I’m ok now.”

It was as if he hadn’t even heard you. “I’m goin’ ta find the rest of ‘em and kill 'em for this!” he snarled savagely, his accent even thicker in his fury. Gone was the gentle lilt, the familiar softness he always seemed to gain in his voice when he spoke to you or about you. Now he was every inch the dangerous Kinsella that so many feared, though not you. Never you. Even now you weren’t afraid, despite the way he whirled and paced wildly in front of you, as if looking for the very same ones who’d so recently hurt you. This was rage in your defense, and that made all the difference.

“Michael—”

“They think I can’t find ‘em?” he spat. “They really think I can’t? I’ll hunt down every last fuckin’ one’a them filthy little cunts fer puttin’ their hands on ya! By the time I’m done wit’ em, there won’t be enough’a their fuckin’ bodies left for their mams to bloody bury!”

This time it was the drinking glass on the counter that paid the price. It flew out into the hall to shatter violently against the wall just beside the mark left by the first aid kit. Glittering shards of glass, some pieces still damp, joined the rest of the debris on the floor.

“Michael.” You heaved yourself upright on shaky legs, wobbly as a newborn fawn. And it hurt, it hurt to move, cuts tugging, body aching. You tried to blink the dampness away in your eyes, not now, come on. “It’s alright—” “Don’t tell me it’s alright when they hurt ya!” he roared. But the moment he swung back around to face you and saw you on your feet, he spat out a curse. He stormed across the bathroom before you could take more than a step. “Daft woman, sit your arse back down before ya fall over!”

One hand still braced against the wall, you lifted your other arm quickly towards him. He lurched to a stop before he could touch you, an expression of horror twisting across his face, all furrowed brow and parted lips. Only then did you realize what that must have looked like to him—your arm held up to fend him off, trying to stop him from coming towards you, tears in your eyes as if you were… as if you were terrified of him and what he had been doing.

Gone in a breath was the rage, the fury, replaced by a gutted, heartbroken grief. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have said he was about to cry, too. “Ya didn’t think I was goin’ to…” he whispered, swallowing hard and taking a cautious step back. “I… I swear, pet, I would never—”

“God, no, Mikey. I know you weren’t going to hit me,” you croaked, trying to put your arm out again in a more welcoming way, and if your breath started to hitch, tears now beginning to roll down your cheeks despite your best efforts, well, surely you were entitled to that, because it had been a horrible few days and the longer you stood here, the more you began to shiver and hurt. It had only been a few minutes since you’d been in his arms, but your body clearly wasn’t ready yet for even that much separation. Emotion welled up inside you like a dark wave, endless, bottomless. You were terrified you’d drown beneath it without him to help you keep your head above water. “I was trying to… could you come over here and… and hold me? I just need…”

He caught you just as the first choked sob tore its way out of your throat, the strength of the sound so violent, so raw it almost frightened you. One of his arms quickly wound around your waist, pulling you in against the comforting, familiar warmth and strength of his chest. His other hand rose to gently cradle the back of your head, bringing your head down so you could bury it against his neck. He rumbled low, soothing notes into your ear, tender words of comfort as you desperately tried to breathe in the scent of whiskey and leather, gun oil and rain between your heaving breaths and broken sobs.

“There ya go. Shh, I’ve got ya now, pet,” he whispered, laying his cheek against your hair. He shifted the two of you carefully across the floor until he could ease himself down on top of the toilet seat, pulling you slowly into his lap. You went without a fight, clinging to him, the fabric of his shirt held tight between your fists as if it were your lifeline. “I’ve got ya now. Let it all out. I’m here, darlin’. Yer safe with me.”

“Don’t let go,” you choked out, “Please.” “Never. I promise.”

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rkvriki · 2 years ago

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things enha does for you !

hey guys!!! after tha one last fic im back to soft content lolz. i got this idea when i was in class so excuse me if its crappy tho! this one is a lil smoll :')

make sure to leave feedback. my requests are open and so is my talk box so let's talk!

WARNINGS ! undertones of being naked and sunoo watching its all sfw so dont worry!! might contain grammar errors!

word count: 1k

LEE HEESEUNG !

— makes you homemade gifts

heeseung is pretty good at everything, so once in his life decides to make good use of it outside of his job.

heeseung loves giving you gifts, most of them expensive pieces of clothing or even random plushies he wins when he goes to the arcade with the other boys, but is there anything more meaningful than a gift he made himself?

he makes so many handmade things but his favorite thing to do is scrap books. he tries to collect his favorite pics with you every month and he puts them in a scrapbook with cute and sweet handwritten messages.

he loves seeing your wide smile as you scan every picture he chose, remembering each day like it was yesterday.

PARK JONGSEONG !

— leaves you notes or flowers

he does this almost everyday or at least when he stays over at yours and he even has special cute and decorated post its just for you :’)

sometimes he will notice that you might be feeling a little more down or stressed with school/work so he waits for you to fall asleep before he leaves after writing a heartfelt note and sticking it somewhere he knows you’ll see it.

or sometimes jay just feels like treating you nicely so he sends your favorite flowers with a postcard to your house or office.

it all just makes you feel so giddy and soft on the inside, you love how much he shows affection to you in all kinds of ways.

SIM JAKE !

— is present in the most important moments

being from abroad is hard and jake knows that because he also came from a different country, so when knows his s/o isn’t from korea he tries to make up for the fact you don’t have anyone like family members around to supporto you.

when you have important presentations he will be in the audience cheering for you with the biggest smile on his face.

most of the times he does this are surprises, you never know when to expect seeing him there and you would bawl your eyes out if you weren’t in front of so many people.

when you have your first job interview he will take you to where it’s going to take place and he will wait outside and when you come out will tell you that you did good no matter what results are gonna be.

PARK SUNGHOON !

— writes you letters expressing himself

i feel like sunghoon is really shy when it comes to expressing his feelings, although it doesn’t stop him from telling you he loves you every day.

every week he writes you a letter in neat and pretty handwriting, sometimes just telling you how he is feeling lately, other times talking about how much he loves you and how afraid he is of losing you.

he puts every feeling there is in him in the paper, always writing you more than one sheet of paper. After you read all of them you alway call him and you both talk about it, which makes him shy and his ears turn red.

you keep every letter in a box in a place only you and him know and you always read them when you miss him when he’s away.

KIM SUNOO !

— prepares you a spa day/bath

we all know sunoo is all about self care with all the skin care he does and the vitamins he takes and now it’s also a habit of yours thanks to him.

he loves taking care of you when he feels like you aren’t doing it, unable to do it either from stress or just being busy with your life.

when those situations happen, he never fails to surprise you when you come home with a warm bubbly bath in your bathroom, now candle lit.

he asks you to get in the tub as he leaves to get you more things.

he comes back with a huge variety of skin care for you to choose and prepares you your favorite light drink.

when you come out of the shower he will have you laying in the bed and will give the best back massage you’ll ever get, breaking all the knots in you, finishing off with kisses all over your back and face making you giggle.

YANG JUNGWON !

— takes time to celebrate important dates

jungwon loves planning things for you, especially your birthday. even though it makes him wanna rip his hair off he makes all the efforts to make it the best birthday party you could ever have.

literally no one can talk to him during the weeks he is planning it because he is so stressed that he will snap at someone unintentionally (he apologizes later, poor won)

he will plan it almost a month earlier to make sure everything is perfect. he look for the best bakeries around and tries to find the best rooftop to have the party.

he contacts every single one of your friends trying not to forget to invite anyone.

then the worts part comes, the present to give you. jungwon knows so much about you, almost every little detail, but one thing he doesn’t know is what to give you in your birthday, even if you reassure him he is the best present >-<

all the stress his worthy when he sees your teary eyes smile at the big party.

NISHIMURA RIKI !

— spends quality time with you

being an idol takes a lot of someone’s time and niki tries to use every second he had of free time to be with you since he’s always in and out of the country and he knows you hate being alone.

niki takes you everywhere you possibly can go. you go hiking, you go to amusement parks, to the movies, trying out restaurants, just anywhere.

he’s always up to try new things with you and sometimes he might bring the other boys along or you bring your friends, but it’s very rare to happen.

he always takes his digital camera, taking pictures of you when you aren’t looking, which he ends up showing you making you complain of how bad you look and he just glares at you.

sometimes you just go to quiet places and enjoy each other presence, like going to parks in the middle of the nowhere, where it’s just the two of you being two fools in love.

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astraariel · 1 year ago

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scarlett love

pairing: sanji x fem!reader

summary: you forgot him, chose to let Sanji go, but was that enough? would the universe leave you alone and let you live in peace?

word count: 4.1K

warnings: cursing; spoilers (?) just mention of a character from the whole cake island arc, it’s a modern!au so I don't mention anything about the actual arc!

tags: angst; fluff; hanahaki disease; modern!au; reconciliation; second chances; unrequited turned requited; slight self-hate; happy endings

author’s note: okkkkay here it is. so many of you guys asked for it so here’s pt 2 to eternal snow! I initially wanted to post the mihawk fic first that i'm working on but I can’t finish writing it for the life of me so I decided to work on this one instead lol.

like I mentioned before, this is part 2 to this fic so obvi read that before you read this one!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

They say people who have the surgery are doomed for life.

How could they choose to never love again; how could they deliberately go through with the surgery knowing they would never have those emotions again?

But in actuality, it was the choice of forgetting about that love.

People don’t know the grievances and the strength it takes to choose to forget the love of your life. They don’t know the despair of being in love with someone wholeheartedly knowing they don’t love you back.

That you would never remember those emotions for whom you loved.

You saw it as this: if you couldn’t live to love your person, you wouldn’t bear to love at all.

So in that way, you won.

You gained the power to no longer grieve for your love because you simply couldn’t remember him.

Since hanahaki disease was rare, there weren’t too many recovery patients to base knowledge on since many of the victims chose to die rather than to be saved.

So you were honestly going in blind.

Nami would sometimes ask you if you could remember anything, a nervous look on her face, you knew she remembered your past love, but the doctor had told her to not mention anything to you in your recovery period. You think she asked out of curiosity.

Or maybe fear?

But every time you’d just tell her that you couldn’t, your head would hurt if you thought too hard and too long about who you had lost.

If you could remember specific memories, they weren't fully visualized, they were static, like when an old TV was out of range from the signal and would struggle to picture the channel.

All you could remember was his silhouette, his figure blurry and his name was always on the tip of your tongue but you could never place your finger on it.

You remember during your first check-up, the doctor had asked you if you could describe your past love,

“I'm not sure.”

Your voice had been wobbly like you were on the verge of crying. Tears had pricked your eyes, along with the feeling of not being able to breathe even though those damn flowers were gone.

Not being able to understand why?

That feeling went away a week later.

You laugh at yourself now, chiding yourself for being ridiculous back then.

At what point could you have allowed yourself to be so deeply in love with someone that it was killing you? You could never understand.

It was an absurd, abysmal idea that you had ever gotten to that point.

While the doctor said the following months would be difficult getting used to your new life of having one less emotion, you were fine.

It had helped that Nami had stayed by your side, and when she couldn’t Sanji would.

Sanji was an angel.

He tended to your every need, always made sure you didn’t lift a finger even after you told him multiple times you could do it yourself.

But he always reassured you he didn’t mind.

You were sad to hear that he stopped seeing Pudding. It was honestly too bad because she was good for him, he deserves someone who can love and care for him just as much as he cares for others.

Nevertheless, you were glad he was here for you.

The sound of music playing softly in the background comforts you as you shuffle through your kitchen making dinner.

You and Sanji have recently started having weekly dinners with each other, an idea he came up with.

“We can update each other about our lives, good ole fashion face-to-face interaction.”

“I don’t think my life is going to change too much in the week we don’t see each other, Sanji”

The sound of the door ringing pulls you from your thoughts, drying your hands with a towel, you walk over to the front door.

The cool November breeze greets you as soon as you open the door, Sanji’s figure fills your view.

The coat he’s wearing to protect himself from the wind encapsulates him in a way that makes you smile instinctively, you can see his red ears peeking from under his blond hair.

“Come in, come in, I was just finishing up dinner.”

“Oh, can I help you with anything else?” he offers while shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack beside the front door. “Or are you not allowing me into your kitchen again?” he smirks toward you.

You roll your eyes and scoff, “It’s my turn to make dinner, you cook for a living, it's my time to shine now, dude.” He chuckles and begins to set the table for the two of you.

The warm food fills the plate in your hand, placing it on the counter, you grab another plate. “So, how’s work?”

Sanji grabs both of the plates and brings them to the table, setting them down, he looks back at you. “Ah, the old man’s got me working late most days.”

You smile softly at the scene; since you can remember you and Sanji have been able to work in tandem. Back when Nami first introduced you, it was like a pull connecting the two of you, also guiding and leading the two of you in perfect harmony.

It was nice.

Finishing your dinner, Sanji grabs his cup, “That was delicious, thank you.”

“Well I did have a decent teacher,” you say into the glass smiling, gulping down the liquid you set it back down and look at Sanji.

He goes to say something before he’s interrupted by a cough.

Sanji turns his head and coughs into a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, he quickly wipes his mouth before looking back at you, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Shaking your head in acknowledgement you begin cleaning up the dinner table.

“Oh I forgot, I bought flowers, they’re in the living room let me grab them real quick.” Sanji stands quickly.

Turning, you watch him walk away, not catching the lone petal falling out of his pocket.

♡‧₊˚

Vinsmoke Sanji has done a lot of things.

Some of which he regrets, but others he stands by, but there was one that met both criteria.

And that was you.

He was glad he met you, that he was able to spend time being with you, loving you, and knowing that you loved him back.

But he regrets hurting you. He regrets letting himself be temporarily infatuated with Pudding. Sanji had laughed in the face of fate, and in return, he got what he deserved.

His impending end.

The petals had shown up the day you went into the hospital.

While you were given a second chance at life, Sanji had just signed his away.

He remembers the memory of Nami telling him what had happened. He had it permanently seared into his brain, never allowing himself to forget the moment.

Her eyes were red, face hot with anger when she pulled up to his house.

“You absolute idiot.” He hadn’t even fully opened the door before she was swearing at him, cursing him to the ends of the earth over what he had done. “You did this. You caused that pain…if I hadn't found her…,” her hands had started punching his chest.

“She would have been gone, all because of you.”

A part of Sanji died that day.

So when he got the same disease you had, he knew he deserved it.

Wasn’t it only right that he got the same death sentence that almost took you away?

It was slow at first, from what Nami had told him about your situation, Sanji knew this was how it started.

The first few weeks were bearable, he could go about his daily life without causing any suspicion. No one would ask if he was okay or anything, just simply being able to cough into a tissue and discard it quickly.

Then the blossoms came.

After one terrible night of constantly coughing up blood and flower blossoms, Sanji did some research. He knew the full blooms were next along with the finishing blow of the roots. It had only been a month since you had your surgery, and yet his hanahaki was a lot more accelerated in comparison to yours.

A month since he had realized he was deathly in love with you.

But he could bear this burden. Who was he to complain about his death trickling closer than it normally should?

Sanji remembered the moment he realized his disease would finish him more swiftly, that he was faster along than he typically should be; whether it was because the universe knew you could never love him back or it was simply his punishment for what he did.

Probably both.

Even though he knew he could easily fix the problem, he didn't have the right to get a second chance.

How could he?

How long did you spend hiding your condition away, not even when he had broken things off, before then? How long were you hurting because you knew he was lying when he said he loved you?

The gall he would have to have to go through with the surgery?

Absolutely not.

But deep in his heart, he also couldn’t bring himself to forget you. He’d rather be a coward and a liar than choose a life undeserving of him.

He would rather die than forget you, to never be able to love you again would be death itself.

He hated himself for what he did to you. The insolence he had to hurt someone as caring as you, why did he take advantage of that?

He himself every day.

If he had to live with constantly coughing up blood and bending over the toilet puking up flower petals just for you to live your life? Yeah, he could do that. He could live with the pain of knowing that you would never love him back.

That you could never love him back.

It quite literally was in human nature that he would never be saved unless he did the surgery, since you couldn’t even love anyone anymore.

Sanji’s hand lifts his handkerchief up to his mouth, his body heaving with a hard cough of petals.

He sighs.

♡‧₊˚

The TV light shines on both you and Sanji’s forms as the movie comes to an end, the ending credits miniaturizing as the screen recommends a shitty Christmas movie that has the both of you turning to the other.

“That was an unnecessarily long movie.” Sanji’s comment makes you laugh.

“Right? God, it was dragging on for a really long time.” Shaking his head he stands up to place the popcorn bucket on the kitchen counter.

You follow him holding the cups that held lemonade two hours ago. “It’s getting late, I should probably go.”

“Yeah, probably, oh wait-I bought something for you, meant to give it to you when we had dinner at your place but I forgot.” Sanji’s voice trails as he goes off to his bedroom.

You stand there for a couple of minutes before checking the time, “Yo, Sanji, did’ya get lost?” laughing to yourself, you walk over into the bedroom. Your eyes immediately meet Sanji’s form hunched over on the ground.

A gasp falls from your lips as you rush over to him. “Sanji, oh god, are you okay what’s wrong-”

You cut yourself off when you bend down to look at him, there you see a pool of blood on the hardwood floor, petals scattered around the scene with a full flower bloom sitting in his hands.

“What?” you can’t breathe.

Sanji says your name but you don’t hear him, your brows knit together as you look up at him. “I don’t understand why are you coughing up petals?”

No? This couldn’t be happening.

Your heart breaks.

Who did Sanji love so dearly that he was cursed with the same disease that had you in its chokehold not long ago?

You would never wish this on anyone, no one deserved to live through the hurt of having unrequited love.

“You weren’t,” he wipes his mouth, “you weren’t supposed to find out.”

“I don’t-why wouldn't you want to tell me? If anything, I’d be the only person able to understand. Sanji, who is it?” your eyes scan his face.

Sanji’s ragged breathing fills the air between the two of you. “I can’t.”

You furrow your brows even more, shaking your head. “Please just tell me so I can help-”

“You can’t.”

“What do you mean, I can’t? You’re not making sense.”

Sanji closes his eyes. “It’s you.”

You stop breathing, the figure in your memory rushes to the forefront of your brain like a tsunami.

In the past the figure was always blurry, never in frame in your mind, only being able to trace his silhouette, but now it was different.

It was like he was right in front of you like you could smell him, feel his hands in yours, his warmth. Feel his lips against your lips when he-

“It was you.” your voice was quiet, “You were the one I loved.”

His eyes snap at yours, a gasp falling from his lips.

“The person I loved so deeply… that it caused me so much pain.”

And there it was, the fog had been lifted.

“How could I have forgotten?” How ironic the entire thing was.

“Why would I ever forget about my love for you, Sanji?” you look at him, “What grief did you cause me?”

A tidal wave of emotions, affections, all poured out of your soul and into your memories. The months of coughing up petal after petal till they turned to full flower blooms. The fear that a root would pop up once you pulled your tissue from your face.

The pain and the hurt that Sanji had caused you.

The pain of knowing that he didn't love you anymore.

It all came rushing back.

“Why would you keep this from me?” you were getting angry, but was it for the right reason?

Hadn’t you done the same with him? Hadn’t you kept it from all the people you loved as well?

“You know why I went through with the surgery? It wasn’t Nami who made me, well not partially, but why I allowed myself to let her drive me to the hospital was because I didn't want you to suffer.” your eyes were burning, the tears threatening to fall.

“I don't understand?” Of course, he wouldn’t.

“You were obviously unhappy, Sanji. If I removed myself from the equation, it would solve everything and at…at first I thought dying was the solution I really did.” your eyes drop, “And maybe Nami finding me was a saving grace but, I originally wasn't gonna do anything.”

“Week after week, Sanji, I was drowning. I wanted to yell at anyone who would listen and ask why I couldn't have anything, why couldn’t I be happy? That the universe had some sort of fucking vendetta against me.”

“So I decided to let you go, to choose to live a life of unknown heartache, and when I finally thought I had accomplished that. The universe just spits in my face by cursing you.”

“Don’t you see it? We don’t belong together, Sanji.” The anger was gone now, all that was left was emptiness.“We have the signs, we need to heed them and move on.”

Sanji says your name with a plea, but you ignore him. “Just get the surgery, stop hurting the both of us.”

“It does us no good if you're dead.” And with that, you walk out of the bedroom and out the front door.

♡‧₊˚

The quiet murmurs of the newscaster talking about the weather for the week could barely be heard from the running water you were using to wash the dishes.

You haven't seen Sanji in a couple of weeks, not since he announced that you were the one whom he was in love with.

And definitely not since you remembered he was the one whom you had loved before.

And while at first, you were angry. Angry at him for lying and keeping such vital information from you.

It later turned to guilt.

Guilt for getting angry at him. Guilt for causing him pain.

But it wasn’t your fault, it’s not like you chose not to love him, you physically couldn’t anymore. You signed that ability off months ago.

But you also missed him. Since you weren’t talking to him, you weren’t having your weekly dinners or your impromptu movie nights anymore.

You missed just talking to him. You missed the lame jokes he’d tell in hopes of hearing your laugh, that smile he’d get whenever he spoke about a new recipe.

You missed him.

But you were also confused.

After he had revealed that he loved you and you had remembered that your past love was him, it became too much for you to handle.

Glancing at the moon, you dry your hands on a towel and walk into the living room. The weatherman was currently informing you of a chance of rain tomorrow during the already cold late January weather.

Sighing you go to sit down before something catches your eyes. A picture frame that hangs on your wall glints as you walk toward it.

It was a photo of you and Sanji looking at the camera with wide smiles on display from Sanji’s birthday two years prior. On top of your heads sat a birthday hat colored blue for the sea theme your friends had thrown together as a joke for the blonde that year.

You remember how you felt that day, the anxiety of wanting to get Sanji the perfect gift and when he finally opened it, he had hugged you which had you blushing like crazy while you swatted his “thank yous” away.

God, where did this deja vu come from?

It was weird, you weren't sure what it was.

It felt like your entire being was full. Full of intense and overwhelming emotions, an emotion you shouldn't feel. An emotion that was eradicated from your life when you stepped out of that hospital.

But here it was, rearing its big ugly face once again.

For Sanji.

You stumble back as if you had been shocked with electricity.

Looking around your apartment you close your eyes.

How could this happen? Why were you still being punished again?

You had endured the pain, chose to get rid of it and now you’ve been having to live with knowing that Sanji also was experiencing the exact same pain.

Sanji.

How could you have been so cold? Telling him to do the surgery? What was wrong with you?

You missed him. You missed your love for him. The feelings you’d get when he’d look your way. Sanji was your ambrosia and you needed him to survive.

But you didn’t miss how you felt when he chose another over you. Those feelings you wished you hadn’t remembered.

You weren't sure how you were still able to feel Sanji's love. But here you were.

An anomaly that you were.

Guess that shows how deep your love truly was rooted.

How could you have allowed yourself to forget?

The drive to Sanji’s apartment was quiet, opting to not play music or turn the radio on so that you could think clearly with your new (re) developed emotions.

Pulling up to the driveway, you step out of your car. The jacket you have on trapping your heat from the cold winds of the night.

The few steps to the front door felt like a lifetime. The moonlight provided a little comfort to your restless self.

Exhaling, you bring your hand to knock at the door, a small part of you hoping Sanji wasn’t home so you could go home and pretend like nothing happened.

The door swings open revealing Sanji. His eyes were wide like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him.

“Hey…can I come in?” you look up at him expectantly.

“Yeah, yeah come in.” Sending him a quick smile you walk past him and into the living room.

He shuts the door and faces you, you turn and finally get a good look at him in the light.

He looked worse for wear, his eyes had bags under them, a sign he hadn’t been sleeping if at all. Whether that was because of your argument or his condition, you didn't know. One hand was in his pocket and the other was fiddling with his handkerchief.

“How are you…” signaling your hand at him, “I mean physically, how are you? What stage?”

He looks away, “well…I’m still living,” he chuckles quietly.

You sigh.

God the two of you were truly messed up.

“It all came back.”

“What?” he questions.

Your eyes begin to glaze over, “My memories, everything.” you wet your lips, “All of it, Sanji.”

“It just-all came back…on top of our argument, of you telling me you loved me.” Tears fell down your cheeks. “Of how I felt when you were-when you were with Pudding.”

He says your name.

“And I hated it, I hated remembering how I felt, Sanji. I remember pitying myself, wondering what I had done wrong, why you hadn’t loved me anymore,” he says your name again, “but I also remembered how I felt loving you.” you look up at him with your tear-streaked face.

“And I will never regret loving you, not then, definitely not now. I also don’t regret forgetting, because I understand why I did it. I loved you enough to be able to let you go. To be able to know you’ll live your life happily, whether that’s with me or someone else. I didn’t care. Just that you were happy.”

“But I wasn’t-”

You cut him off, “I knew you didn't love me how I loved you, but I still knew you cared. So if I had died, even from death, I would have hated myself for hurting you. So I chose to forget.” you wipe your cheek, “I just wish you had never gotten that godforsaken thing as well.”

“Sanji I…I love you wholeheartedly. You encompass my entire existence. I live for you. Even now, when I didn't remember how I felt for you. It was there. My love for you was still inside. And it always will be. I think even if you hadn’t told me you loved me now, I would have remembered anyway. Simply because that’s who I am, I am my love for you, you consume my entire soul.” You probably looked like a mess.

“You look beautiful.” Did you say that out loud?

You smile softly, “So when you admitted that you loved me, that I was inadvertently hurting you, I couldn’t take it. I had been the monster I sought to eliminate. So I pushed you away.” you sigh, “I pushed you away because I didn't want to go through the same pain again. I was selfish if you had just done the surgery, I'd be able to forget about this again and you wouldn't even remember.” you walk toward Sanji. “I’ve learned that I can’t run away from you anymore. And I’ve realized that I don’t want to lose you again.”

“So let me save you.”

Sanji’s face was red, his eyes were blurry with tears, his fist clenching his handkerchief filled with petals and blooms.

“I’m so sorry.” Sanji’s voice trembles, “I am so sorry, I caused you so much pain, if I could take it back I would. And I don’t even deserve you, I’m not worthy of your love, but if you allow me, let me make it up.”

You close the gap between the two of you and pull his lips toward your own. They’re slightly chapped and both of your guy’s faces are wet but you don’t care. You feel his fingers carding through your hair, pulling you deeper.

This kiss was different from any others before, this one was filled with desire and want but it was also filled with joy and love.

You were finally happy.

You pull away first, breathing heavily and your face flushed, “You already are.”

“I love you so much, please never forget.” you wipe a stray tear, cradling his face.

You want to commit this memory in your brain. No more forgetting, no more letting go. To make sure that for the night, no cough was to be heard, no petal was to be hidden,

just two lovers finally with one another, forever.

#astraariel♡#one piece #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n

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autisticandroids · 2 months ago

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free space: medium-sized destiel

so in my reclists for @spnficrecfest i haven't been including many fics that are very "big destiel."

this is partly because i've been trying to keep the kudos count lower (though obviously this hasn't been absolute), and also because i actively did not include any "post empty destiel fix it" type fics in the dabb era reclist because they're kind of a genre unto themselves. nor have i intentionally made space in other reclists for fics that have a particular destiel romance novel vibe. obviously there's some, but those tend to dominate reclists, and i wanted to highlight smaller fics.

so this is my "big destiel" reclist, except i still did not include anything that had >2k kudos, because those are generally speaking pretty well known already.

some of these fics are small and just have the big destiel vibes, but a lot of them are more in the 1k kudos range than the hundred kudos range, on account of being big, or medium-sized, destiel.

in order of word count:

ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? by everytuesday, 1k

a couple of takes on the confession scene. very special to me.

rot and grace by extemporaneous, 3k, violence warning

cas watches dean murder the world. corruption kink.

some dying star looks dull in the light by sp8ce, 4k

heaven angst with a happy ending, post-empty.

one step closer by rhinestoneangels, 4k

an empty rescue. i love the empty geography in this one.

i didn't feel it on the first day, and now i got it in the worst way by wintertree, 6k

meg pov on a post-widower arc destiel.

the doorway to a thousand churches by sonatine, 6k

cas and the deans from goodbye stranger.

if you try sometimes, well you just might find by jenthesweetie, 9k

cas pov on dean's wants.

godot ain't got nothing on me and my baby by ilovehowyouletmefall, 10k

post empty, cas became death. the only way dean could see him is by dying.

before and after breakfast by spocklee, 10k

a silly little case where cas and dean realize how they see each other.

solitudes by ilovehowyouletmefall, 21k

cas sees dean see cas die. a wonderful little melodrama. i actually really liked how it handled dean's alcoholism (not really as something to be solved but just as a... reality to be dealt with) and i'm OBSESSED with the director's commentary. if this had been published in 2021 instead of 2023, every heller would have read it three times over.

powerless in dreams by calicoyak, 24k

a post-empty fic. i really liked some of the cas stuff in this one.

between a rock and a hard place by amidsizefrog, 24k

dean's dick doesn't work. also cas is dead. maybe the two are related.

every single thing by thestoryinsideme, 37k

a charming and goofy season nine fic. dean is a shitty little man in a very canonical way that is also deeply sweet and adorable.

a light above descending by hedderstheowl, 38k

a mark of cain fic with chefkiss angel stuff. a recent favorite of mine. really put this author on the map for me.

with understanding by apokteino, 427k, chose not to warn and noncon warning

yeah it's with understanding. you've heard of it. go read it now chop chop.

and if your wondering which fics (that you've probably read) got the axe for having too many kudos: it was on labor, the bee movie fic, time has come today, and r/supernatural. that's my taste. if you were curious.

#spn #spnficrecfest

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stationintern · 6 months ago

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Hello my friends! I am late, but we won't mention it. April was a very busy month, but I managed to read way more than I've been able to the last few months, so I have a good selection for you. There's a couple rereads, a couple fics I put off reading for far too long, and a few that I found at the perfect time and devoured on sight.

Let's go!

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites for H/D Bodice Ripper Fest 2022 M, 14.8k

Every single one of Harry’s exes has gone on to marry the next person they date, and with the upcoming nuptials of numbers six and seven to each other, Harry’s feeling exhausted by it all. It doesn’t really matter if he lets people assume Draco Malfoy is his boyfriend for a moment of peace. In any case, Draco’s been away for five years and there’s no way he would find out, right?

I read this fic about a year ago, and I am so glad that I chose to revisit it this month. It is just so, so good. Endlessly hilarious, with a solid plot that is resolved neatly in 14 thousand words. I really love Harry here. His letters are so adorable. This aspect comes in later in this list as well, but I love when Draco is kind of a mysterious figure for a good chunk of a fic. The wondering, the anticipation. What kind of Draco will we meet this time? It's all very delicious.

Seeker's High by @corvuscrowned M, 40k

Harry Potter doesn’t expect to take up running years after the war ends; it just sort of happens. He also doesn’t expect that — as he fights tooth and nail to climb out of a post-war depression he didn’t realize he’d fallen into — he’ll end up running right into the arms of Draco Malfoy. A half angsty drama, half romcom of Harry working on himself, learning how to accept help from his friends, and falling in love with his childhood nemesis.

Another reread. This is one of those fics I've found myself periodically thinking about, mostly because it just feels so right. Harry's characterization in this is fascinating, and I really enjoyed watching his slow evolution as his relationships grow, both with running and with Draco. A unique premise that I really enjoyed and know I will revisit again.

Turn by Saras_Girl E, 306k

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Okay, so, I'm not even gonna say anything. I put off reading this for way too long, and not knowing a single thing about this fic was probably the reason I devoured every chapter the way I did. Just know I was clawing at the walls.

Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu E, 75.3k

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

Oh my fucking god. I have never in my life laughed out loud this many times while reading a fic. Truly, two dumb, horny assholes just trying to crack the case. But, behind all the side-splitting humor (and searingly hot sex) is a deep understanding of both characters that shines through and makes every moment hit so much harder. As in, they would fucking say that. Every single follow-up in the series is a banger, too. Thanks to @tackytigerfic for pointing those out to me!

Make This Leap by @oflights M, 118k

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.

I relived four years of my life reading this fic. Both the good and the bad. Truly, a wonderful portrayal of the epic highs and lows of restaurant work. From personal drama to work-related catastrophes, this fic has it all. Like I said before, I love having to wait a bit to see Draco. I love hearing about him through the grapevine. I had so much fun reading this, and it was a treat to see these characters in an environment that I hadn't really envisioned them in before. Lovable (and punchable) side characters, a very stressed out Harry Potter, and a solid amount of health code infractions. Amazing.

See you at the end of May! xx, Moon.

#drarry #draco x harry #drarry fic rec #drarry fic #moon's monthly recs

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ro-is-struggling · 3 months ago

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Fireproof Series Masterlist || Johnny Storm x Reader

disclaimer: the pictures above are purely for aesthetic purposes and do not represent the physical appearance of the reader

Series summary: you and Johnny weren't supposed to get along. You were the exact opposite of each other. While he was loud and outgoing, you were quiet and introverted. He loved to be the center of attention and you actively made efforts not to be. He had made a name for himself as one of the biggest players on campus while you stood out for your academic achievements. You hated guys like Johnny, and he had no reason to associate with people like you since you rarely shared spaces. And yet, against all odds, you were able to forge a solid friendship. In fact it was the contrast that made the two of you work so well. You called out his bullshit and he pointed out yours. You were a good influence on each other, no one could deny that. It was a perfect relationship, you knew all the bad things about each other and still chose one another....

But what happens when romantic feelings start to flourish?

This series is a collection of one shots that will give you a glimpse inside Johnny and y/n's complicated relationship.

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, fluff, lots of cliches (like seriously, I was kinda playing the game of how many cliches can I put in the same story? lol) 2000s teen flick/ rom com coded (so I guess it’s a bit cheesy? read at your own risk!), FEMALE READER

This fic starts a bit before the events of the first Fantastic Four movie, when reader and Johnny are in college (but it gets to the movies don’t worry!)

English is not my first language

Author’s Note: I recently rewatched the old Fantastic Four movies and I had so much fun I just had to write something for Johnny. Yes it's terrible plot wise but I love the early 2000s vibes of it. So I tried to keep a bit if that vibe with very overused tropes/scenes and stereotypical characters (yk like the annoying popular girl, the playful fuck boy love interest with a heart of gold and the ‘I'm not like other girls’ main character). I have a soft spot for those kinds of stories and I thought Johnny was perfect for it! I tried to keep a balance as to not make it too over the top, I hope I did a good job

The idea for this fic is to make a sort of collection of separate one-shots that show different moments in Johnny and reader’s relationship, if that makes sense. I have most of the story planned and written, but it is not completely closed. What do I mean by that? That I have a beginning, conflict and ending thought out, but that doesn't mean that once I post those parts the story is over.

I'm structuring this fic more as plot points than anything else (i.e. how they meet, when they have their first kiss, what the big love confession is like, stuff like that). Beause of that, there are parts of the timeline of the relationship that aren't shown. And that leaves me time to imagine a lot of things, if that makes sense? So if I have a random idea about a silly thing that happens between them in the middle of "the plot" (or if you guys think of something!), I can add it and expand the context without changing the whole story.

ALL PUBLISHED PARTS:

Part 1: First Impressions

Part 2: {COMING SOON}

#johnny storm x reader #human torch x reader #johnny storm x fem reader #johnny storm fluff #johnny storm angst #human torch x fem reader #fantastic four #johnny storm #johnny storm fanfiction #fireproof series

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frownyalfred · 3 months ago

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20 Questions for Writers

I was tagged by @lurkinglurkerwholurks

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 146! It would be a larger number if I hadn't deleted all of my Supernatural fics back in the day. There were at least 30 of those, maybe more...

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

913,163 - I'm hoping to hit a million soon!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Batman, Superman, Justice League, Star Wars, Marvel

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Take Care of Business Everybody Wants You It Was Always You a sky of honey Anything Like Me

5. Do you respond to comments?

Not anymore :/ I have a really hard time keeping up with writing if I'm responding to comments. I hope my readers understand.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm. Probably lonely town? Dick is getting de-fibbed in the alley by Bruce, and it's not clear if he's going to survive or not.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

here as I am is hilarious if you're into jealous!Clark. otherwise the weight (salmon ladder fic) always gets me.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Yep. Mostly on borderline, but on other fics too. I love how, as I've gotten better at writing, it's changed from "wow this sucks, your writing is awful" to "you suck because you chose to have [character] do this." Luckily I think most of the hate filters over here to Tumblr, where I can happily block and forget. These days, I mostly get people commenting about how I'm wrong about something. Wrong about something I researched and triple checked before posting...

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep! All of them, I think? At least, I haven't balked at much yet. I'm not really into the excrement related ones, so I think that would be one of my no-go's.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yep! bloodletting (Mandalorian/Star Wars and DC Crossover) and a few Marvel/DC crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep, a few times. What I'm more pissed about is all of my textposts being monetized over on TikTok and IG. I could be making bank off of those, considering the reach. And several of them are basically mini-fics.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Tons. Check them out here. There's also some podfics and related works there.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really. I've made attempts but I'm really bad at it. I tend to write spur of the moment and follow my gut on where the conversation/action goes. Planning out a fic with a partner would do them a disservice, I think.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I really love Superbat, but Codywan is right up there with it. Something about Cody being a loyal BAMF soldier and long-suffering big brother gets me.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

My vampire AU. Not because I don't want to continue but I cannot decipher my notes as to what should happen next.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm very quick, I can type up a full draft in a few hours. I like natural, snappy dialogue and I think I'm good at it. I don't shy away from weird or uncomfortable situations. I'm comfortable with writing a lot of sex/etc.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I write too quickly, sometimes I get ahead of my plot. My dialogue and descriptions can sometimes be a little too bare, or I overcorrect and become too flowery. My fics take on the tone of whatever I'm thinking about at that time.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If you're confident in your language abilities, go for it. If you're just plugging it into google translate, consider why you're doing that first. Is the addition of this new language actually something someone would say in that moment? Or are we just using it to signal to the audience that they speak another language? Is there a way to show this without telling? That being said, I love using Mando'a in my Star Wars fic, and I've studied it for a while now to be able to do so.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Supernatural

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Probably borderline or a sky of honey. Both took a ton out of me and I'm proud they're whole and standing on their own right now.

---

I'll tag anyone who wants to play! Go wild.

#ask game #fic game #writing #fic #myfic #theresurrectionist

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celestialsister0918 · 11 months ago

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Fireside: A Sirius Black Christmas Oneshot

Happy holidays, loves! Here is a gift for my Sirius Black friends. Tumblr exclusive for now, probably cross-posted to my AO3 and Wattpad eventually.

A few warnings— it’s EXPLICIT smut. 18+ interaction only, please.

It’s a Sirius x You (fem-reader) fic, but you have a House. It was necessary for the plot. Hopefully you are House-flexible or can be for the next 6k+ words.

Get warm and cozy and enjoy… and please let me know what you think… reblogs are much appreciated, as are likes and comments. I love chatting with readers and fellow Sirius lovers.

You stood at the doorway to Number Twelve with your heart beating wildly against your chest. Harry and the other students had left for second term just a few short hours ago, with the Weasleys close behind. They were giving Arthur the chance to continue his recovery at the Burrow, hoping to speed his efforts with the comforts of home rather than the sullen, dreary darkness of Grimmauld Place. At least that’s what you’d overheard in their whispers after last night’s dinner, which had followed the last meeting of the Order for the year.

The whispers, of course, were for the benefit of the one inhabitant of the house who wasn’t granted the choice of leaving. No matter how dark and dreary, no matter how much his spirits needed lifting. And they certainly seemed to need lifting last night. As soon as the meeting had adjourned, Sirius Black retreated upstairs with nary a goodbye. Harry had seemed disappointed at this. It was only natural he’d want to soak up every minute possible with his godfather before returning to Hogwarts. But Black had fallen prey to another “fit of the sullens,” as Molly liked to label them with a disapproving shake of her head.

You understood those types of fits all too well, having suffered your own tragedies throughout the Wizarding Wars, as well as typical adolescent heartaches and disappointments that seemed to continue into your early adult years too. Maybe you simply took things too seriously. Life just seemed to come easy to more carefree witches and the wizards that worshiped them. You’d heard stories that Sirius Black himself used to fall into that lighthearted, devil-may-care category many years ago. But he’d experienced unimaginable darkness, and you knew the last thing he needed was to hide away alone, even if he fought you tooth and nail over it.

With a sharp intake of breath, you broke through the warded door with charms meant only for official gatherings of the Order. You prayed to the gods that there wasn’t some terrible punishment for doing so. You sighed with relief when you were greeted only by the eerie silence of cold, dark air— which was a sound unto itself, strange as that seemed. The familiar dank smell filled your nostrils, but it didn’t bother you. It simply set the ambience of a home filled with magic and mystery and stories, dreaded though some of them may be. The walls were alive with history, and there was something intriguingly romantic about the place, if you were honest. You knew the man you were about to encounter would adamantly disagree and would probably throw you out on your arse for thinking so. You’d be sure to keep your strange admiration for the place to yourself for a while, at least until he warmed up to you a bit.

That could take awhile indeed, you thought grimly. Rather than start on such a task right away, you chose to descend to the kitchen and make yourself a calming cup of tea. Perhaps a drop or two of schnapps for some liquid courage were in order also. As the kettle warmed, you made your way to the flocked tree in the rear of the kitchen and smiled as you studied the ornaments there. Sirius himself had conjured and crafted most of them just days earlier, when he’d been noticeably more joyful. The anticipation of Christmas had lifted him out of his funk, and he’d been determined to replace his family’s fancy heirloom ornaments with much more colorful, animated, and exciting ones. You enjoyed examining them while you waited for the kettle to whistle. They were a glimpse into his true self— the fun, whimsical side you always heard about in tales from the older Order members.

You’d seen that side a bit in your interactions with him so far. He had a certain glint in his eye as he teased you for your lack of coordination, which coincidentally had landed you in his lap one evening when you’d hooked the toe of your boot unceremoniously under the crossbar of the wooden kitchen bench.

“I- I’m so sorry,” you had stammered, your face painfully hot. He’d caught you with an arm scooped under your back.

“I’m not,” he’d quipped back with a glimmer in his blue gray eyes. And he’d given your thigh a couple quick pats with his large palm, just fatherly enough that you weren’t quite sure if he saw you as a cute, clumsy, overgrown kid— or something a bit sexier, as that glimmer in his eye along with his comment might have suggested.

Subsequent meetings were difficult after that fateful fall. You couldn’t stop your eyes from straying in his direction. In spite of his scraggly, unkept stubble and perhaps accelerated aging from Azkaban, he was undoubtedly a beautiful man. The Black family genetics were famous for a reason. Their symmetry and grace, smooth skin, full and shiny hair, and silky, aristocratic voices were mesmerizing. It was no wonder they drifted toward the Dark Arts; with gifts like that, they could clearly coerce lesser mortals into doing anything.

Sirius was made only more handsome by the tattoos that covered the previews of skin he revealed— a sexy “fuck you” to the house, the Black family line, and anyone who may chide him for daring to be different. You admired the confidence his swaths of ink portrayed, and each passing meeting made you yearn to study them up close. For academic purposes, of course. Continuing education in Ancient Runes. Field work.

“Do you not take sugar in your tea?”

The voice was quite light and innocent, but it startled you so much you spilled said tea straight through the holes of your wool sweater.

“Fuck!” you hissed. “You scared me, Black.”

He smiled and strode behind you, reaching around your front to grasp a kitchen rag that hung from the lower cupboard handle. He spun you around with hands on your upper arms and promptly began absorbing the spill. Of course he could have taken care of it with a mere wand wave. Interesting that he chose the more manual route.

“I scared you?” Sirius mused. “And to think you’re the one breaking and entering and stealing my tea. Which, strangely, you’re sipping black at the moment. Is this because you don’t know where to find the proper accompaniments, or are you simply that odd?”

“Simply that odd, I’m afraid,” you admitted, leaning back against the wooden counter with legs outstretched. “I like it black. Enjoy the flavor.”

This was met with a slightly arched eyebrow, but he recovered quickly and reached around you again to grab his own mug.

“I prefer it quite sweet, and loaded with cream, personally,” Sirius commented, voice still maddeningly silky and light. It tickled over your eardrums like a melody. His tongue snaked out as he tilted the mug to his lips and slurped.

“Don’t you Blacks have to attend some finishing school before you’re sent to Hogwarts?” you teased him. “Don’t they teach you not to slurp there?”

Sirius didn't miss a beat. “You’ll find I’m a bit of a dog, darling. I’m rather noisy and messy with my mouth.”

That rush of heat filled your cheeks again, and you found yourself trembling a little with adrenaline at how quickly things had escalated. Or did they? The conversation was quite innocent, on a service level. Perhaps your building desire for him had you reading things that weren’t there. You decided to change the subject and try to calm your racing blood.

“You seem quite a bit… happier… than the other day,” you offered as he continued to enjoy his tea. “Did you have a nice day today?”

Sirius seemed to snort. “I had a fucking awful day. How could I have anything but in a place like this?”

“I’m sure it’s not so bad, with the right company,” you pointed out nervously, suddenly scared you might piss him off enough that he’d order you to leave.

“I’ve had nothing but company for weeks,” he replied. “It can help, I suppose. But I’m still trapped.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say to this, so you busied yourself with your own mug, roving the kitchen slowly to avoid eye contact while you plotted where to go next.

“Is that why you’re here?” Sirius continued softly. “Do you believe you’re the ‘right company?’” His expression seemed skeptical.

You shrugged shakily. “I— I dunno. I guess I just thought… you shouldn’t be alone. I… I like being alone occasionally. But you�� you don’t really seem like that type.”

“Not a bit,” he agreed. “But it’s not just about the company. It’s about experiences. And I’ve experienced everything there is to do here. Millions of miserable times over.”

You bit your lip, knowing you could never be so bold as to suggest novel experiences he might try. You were pretty sure he hadn’t had many of those— if any— within these walls. Not with multitudes of pureblood portraits staring him down. Of course he very well could have fooled around with pureblood girls here growing up, right? Just because he wasn’t a supremacist like his forebears didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a dip in the pureblood pool from time to time.

“So,” he continued, addressing you by your name as he crept closer, step by step. “What experiences are you bringing with your company? How will you keep me from being bored?” His eyebrows arched and narrowed adorably with his words as he challenged you.

He stopped just short of invading your space, so you could still view him easily from head to toe. He wore a thick velvet robe in deep burgundy overtop a black and green pinstripe shirt that was honestly a bit… Slytherin-like, when taken in isolation. Perhaps he hadn’t invested in a new wardrobe upon his return and simply relied on the house’s contents. But it suited him nonetheless— this regal contrast of the two houses adorned with his double Albert chain and shiny brown dress shoes. Of course the colors were befitting the season as well, a reminder that Christmas joy still lingered in the air, if one looked for it. You imagined that the house once saw splendid Christmas feasts— glittering, elegant affairs filled with firelight and extravagance as the Wizarding World’s upper crust filled every floor. Personally you enjoyed picturing something more intimate, more cozy, within those old walls.

“Let’s light a fire,” you suggested, setting your teacup down and leading the way to the parlor.

Sirius scoffed behind you but followed nonetheless. “Why would we do that? The entirety of the house is under a warming charm, darling.”

“Hogwarts has fires in the common rooms, does it not? They were nice.”

“Nice, but obviously unnecessary,” he continued practically.

“You need some actual warmth in this place,” you insisted, setting to work lighting the floo. “The kind of warmth that feels good on the inside too. Comfort. A glow.”

“You’re a Hufflepuff, aren’t you?” Sirius asked with a snicker, reclining in a large, faded velvet armchair. He spread his legs in a wide slouch, and you couldn’t help but gaze downward at the movement. Thick, ribbed corduroy slacks hugged thin legs and tapered down to fine silk socks, above which you saw the faintest glimpse of pale skin and dark hair.

“What does my house matter?” you returned in a non-answer. The fire roared to life in the large black marble, and instead of joining him in the companion armchair, you chose to settle on the rug right in front of the flames. Your skin was already on fire, of course, from the turn-on of his earlier proximity and banter. But the added warmth felt nice, and you hugged your knees to your chest.

“Your house doesn’t matter,” he agreed. Just simply a guess. Now, what about that experience you’re going to offer me? Still waiting for an answer on that one.” Sirius rested an elbow on the chair arm, his fingers toying with the ends of his long mustache where it met the unruly stubble on his chin.

“Come down here with me. This is an experience,” you responded, patting the empty space next to you on the rug. It was thick and smooth, richly woven, and of course very expensive. You could feel thick loops of fine threads beneath your fingers as you traced its intricate pattern.

“Sitting by a fire?” Sirius asked incredulously. But he did make a move to join you, settling down in the spot you indicated and then shifting closer. His robe brushed the sleeve of your sweater, and he made no move to back away.

“Well, what kind of experience did you have in mind?” you shot back.

Sirius shrugged innocently, eyes twinkling in the dim light. “No idea, love. You’re the one who showed up on my doorstep, remember? Don’t you have a plan for these things? Or are they spontaneous? Maybe you’re a Gryffindor then?”

You gave a small smile, refusing to answer the question. Instead you studied the details of his face you’d never noticed from afar, features augmented by the dancing shadows of light. He had a very well defined facial muscle that gave an intermittent sexy twitch. And another defined crease on the underneath of his nose that made you curious if you had one; you had always just envisioned it to be smooth. But most magnificent was the way the firelight bounced off of every soft curl — a bountiful dark mahogany crown that would be the envy of any woman alive. You longed to run your hands through it, betting it was even more luxurious than the tapestry rug beneath your increasingly aroused bottom half.

“I’m beginning to feel rather exposed,” Sirius declared, amused. “I don’t think I’ve ever been examined in such detail before. Is this for ‘science,’ as the Muggles say?”

You cleared your throat nervously. “Uh, yes. Wizarding genetics, I guess. You’re just very… impressive.” You winced at the terrible recovery.

Sirius responded with a sweep of a tattooed hand over your cheek. “I’m flattered, coming from a witch as exquisite as yourself. Not to mention young. I believe I have quite a few years on you, yes?”

Your heartbeat was painfully audible as you tried to craft an answer. His fingers still explored your face, alternating with occasional twists of an adjacent lock of your hair. Each sweep of his skin over yours seemed to make your veins tremble.

You truly didn’t know how to respond. Your Muggle friend had once informed you that the term for your specific brand of fixation was “daddy kink,” but you weren’t sure admitting that would do you any favors. You liked how his touch was so self-assured, and the richness of his scent, and how he always knew what to say without hesitation. You liked how the hard lines of his face and hands denoted strength and experience. And you liked how he made you feel small and fragile and protected just by being near you. You wished you could tell him all that without sounding ridiculous. But you were fairly certain you were already communicating it with your parted lips, panting breath, and love-drunk eyes.

“You are going to make my night interesting after all, aren’t you, little one?” Sirius husked, and the bud between your legs danced frantically up and down in response. How did he know to call you that? Your eyes closed with the dizziness of your anticipation, and the hand that had drifted so gently over your cheek now rested fully on your throat. His scent became even more pronounced, alerting you to his closeness just before his mustache tickled your upper lip in the briefest of warnings.

The kiss he gave you was chaste and just enough for you to learn the shape of his lips before he pulled away.

“If you don’t want this, you need to tell me,” Sirius said, his voice low as it drifted directly across your ear. “I’ll stop if you ask me to— at any point. But this is the only asking I’ll be doing myself. Once I begin, you’ll find I’m far too busy to stop and check in.”

His forehead rested gently on yours, his deep blue eyes smoky in the dim light.

“Busy doing what?” you whispered— half teasingly, half desperate for the fire between your legs to be stoked by all the dirty things he would promise.

Sirius chuckled lowly. “You like dirty talk, little one?”

Your affirmative answer came as a whimper, which elicited another devilish chuckle from his lips.

“Very well,” he said silkily. He punctuated the words with another firm kiss on your lips, this time allowing the very tip of his tongue to trace the outline of the bottom one before planting light kisses along your jawline to your earlobe. He paused there, allowing a breath to tickle your ear before he spoke.

“I am going to make every part of your body come alive, as if I cast a spell. But there will be no wand— only my hands, my mouth, my voice. I will make your delicious cunt so wet it will be weeping for my cock. Then I will bury it in you so deep you scream… so loud you’ll wake every portrait in this house and make them curse your sweet, beautiful name. You will ride my cock for as many mind-numbing orgasms as your body can handle, then I will take my pleasure and fill you so full of my seed that it trickles down these soft, smooth thighs all day long tomorrow. You’ll feel it and remember me, and you’ll want it all over again.”

Sirius accompanied his filthy murmurings with firm strokes to your inner thigh, hand already buried inside your skirt. You let out an almost agonized groan in response— all intelligible communication now impossible. Your body literally shook just from his promises, and you knew the look you gave him as he came to a kneel on the rug was one of complete and utter submission.

His hands came beneath your head to cradle it, hands swept in the tangle of your hair as kisses became more insistent, open-mouthed, and allowed you taste the salt and firewhisky on his breath. His tongue explored in gentle licks followed by long sweeps of your mouth, as if it was truly a mission to discover inner parts of you and not just kissing.

You became eager for his hands to move elsewhere, but they still held your head still for his mouth to continue its wicked work. His kisses made your head spin, but the rest of your body felt in heat and neglected. You came to your knees yourself, hands introducing themselves to the sturdy velvet of his jacket, your legs making a move to straddle one of his trousered thighs. He let out a low laugh.

“So eager,” he chastised. “I’m the one who hasn’t shagged in fourteen years, yet I’m the one demonstrating all the patience.”

“I want you!” you defended yourself breathlessly, not even caring if you sounded desperate now. You just needed relief, and to have this wizard covering every inch of you.

“Ah, there it is. The answer I needed to my question,” he said with a wink. “You needed to give me permission, you know.”

“You have it,” you insisted, and as a visual aid to your words, you took the initiative to shrug out of your own sweater. Your breasts swelled over the cups of your lacy, favorite-colored bra. You noticed Sirius became strangely still at the sight, his mouth parting.

“Fucking beautiful,” he managed to mutter, and he cast his own robe aside to free his movement as he reclined you both onto the rug. His fingers gently slid one strap from your shoulder, replacing it with his mouth and soft whiskers. The detailed attention he paid to a spot as random as your shoulder reminded you of his promise to awaken every part of your body. Sirius planned to make every cell literally beg.

His kisses danced across your collarbone in a similar fashion, tended to the next shoulder, then came to center on your pulse point, where he began a gentle suction. You let out a cry at this and took the chance to enjoy his gorgeous, thick curls while he worked his mouth on your upper body’s most sensitive spot.

“I’m going to have wicked marks if you keep doing that,” you teased with a whisper. Sirius’s nose brushed your earlobe as he went for the other side, sucking the sensitive skin beneath like he was starving.

“Good,” he finally broke to whisper back. “And your neck’s not the only spot I plan to mark you.” He added teeth to the mix now, grazing lightly over your throbbing pulse. Would he bite? Would you even care if he did? But he only threatened such before moving lower, working your arms out of the dangling bra straps to reveal your breasts to him. His breath caught in his chest as he appreciated them with his eyes first before cupping them hard, one in each hand. His rough thumbs drove your nipples into peaks, watching each little bump emerge with fascination.

You observed him with a smile, arms leaned back behind you to prop you up for his amusement. You realized of course that it had been over a decade since he’d played with such toys, and though your body was humming for more, you granted him his boy-like fun. Sirius alternated between circling your nipples into painfully hard peaks and kneading your breasts like dough before finally suckling the left into his mouth. The action caused your eyes to roll back in your head. This wizard knew what he was doing. It was more than just taking the soft, pliable tissue into his mouth— he created a firm, merciless suction whose movements echoed between your thighs in violent waves. Your legs parted reflexively, and you grabbed his hand, encouraging it down to feel your burning heat.

“Please touch me,” you begged. “I’m so wet for you.”

Sirius responded to this with a hungry growl, releasing your breast to reveal brand new marks as promised. He gave the other another very rough squeeze before grabbing at your skirt, ripping it downward. He sent it hurling away, narrowly missing the fire. The rip of lace echoed through the air as your knickers followed.

“Am I supposed to walk home with no knickers tomorrow?” you mused above the noisy kisses he planted to the soft skin of your stomach.

“You’re not going home tomorrow,” he replied quickly. “And you’ll be naked all day. And you certainly won’t be walking by the time I’m finished with you.”

“Oh, so you— you like it rough then?” you asked between gasps, shuddering as his fingers traced the tops of your inner thighs, which opened to the hot breaths drifting over your sex.

“Not always,” he answered, grinning up at you from between your parted legs. “But the Black family genetics extend to other endowments as well. In both size and stamina. Even sweeter lovemaking can lend itself to the need for pain potions, love. Do you still consent?”

You licked your lips and lowered your eyes, feeling them burn with sultry want. “I thought you weren’t going to ask anymore?”

“Gryffindor chivalry,” he dismissed with an adorable pursing of his lips. “It’s a curse sometimes.”

“Yes, I consent,” you answered with a grin of your own. “But before you touch me like I asked, I want you out of those clothes. I need to see this endowment of which you speak.”

Sirius sat up and gave your thighs a swift tap before closing them. Your own wetness was dripping onto them at this point, and you could smell sex on the air already.

“You don’t believe me?” he inquired with raised brows.

“Well, you know, Gryffindors are fond of bragging…”

Sirius let out a deep laugh. “So I can assume you’re not a Gryffindor, then, with a comment like that.” He stood and began disrobing, his thumbs drifting over the buttons of the dark green shirt. Each tattoo he revealed made you salivate. He wore a thick, shiny belt buckle now displayed over a prominent bulge in his trousers, and you imagined he was growing quite uncomfortable in there.

“Still not telling you my house,” you replied, shifting your closed legs from one side to the other as you watched your strip show, offering him tantalizing glimpses of your cunt and arse but never separating your thighs for a full view. Sirius never took his eyes off of you, and when his trousers swiftly lowered, you were greeted by the surprise of no underwear— followed by the thick, glorious inches of a very hard, uncut, pureblood cock on display. Your jaw dropped open.

“Already opening up for me?” Sirius commented silkily. “Good girl.”

You nodded, ready to have your mouth fucked speechless if that’s what he wanted. But Sirius seemed to have other plans, pouncing back on you in under a second. He parted your legs almost violently, his face voracious as he plunged his nose into your soaking wetness to inhale before licking furiously.

“Oh, fucking gods!” you moaned, arching into his frenzied movements. He was truly very noisy and beast-like with his mouth, as he’d warned. His tongue alternated between flat, all-encompassing licks across your entire slit, and tiny, strong, targeted flicks around your bud. He approached your sensitive, nerve-filled opening with his tongue in a stiff point, swirling it around to beckon wetness from you in droves.

“I’m fucking drowning you down there,” you moaned, arching your back against the soft rug.

“I told you I like loads of sweet cream,” Sirius responded with a murmur. “Keep it coming, love. Soak my face.”

His tongue rammed your g-spot now, his whole stubbled face buried in your cunt. Your smell filled the hot air and was so sexy you wanted some yourself. Sirius seemed in tune with your needs because his fingers found your hole as his tongue drifted upward to concentrate on your swollen bud again.

“Let me taste your fingers,” you whispered.

“So you do like sugar and cream after all?” he chuckled before obliging with a rather rough shove of his soaked digits into your mouth. His wet stubble scratched your face as his words sought your ear. “Or maybe you’re just a very dirty girl.”

You sucked the delicious sweet-salty combo from Sirius’s fingers, offering kitten licks, strong suction, and previews of all the things he could expect once that glorious cock was in your mouth. His hand found its place within your slit again and began purposeful movements, the back of his palm massaging your clit as his fingers found the g-spot again, kneading the spongy, swollen tissue.

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “I need your cock.”

“Oh yeah?” he mused delicately, leveling his heady eyes to yours. “You don’t like what my fingers are doing to you, darling?”

“I love it,” you panted. “But I’m gonna come!”

“Then come, sweetheart. You can still come on my cock. Promise.” Sirius’s hand picked up its pace so any resistance was hopeless. His mouth returned to your neck to secure you in place as the waves took over your body, your whole frame convulsing in one giant shake after another with your beautiful release against his hand. Sirius’s wet mouth closed over yours, his tongue invading as he situated his warm, taut body between your legs. Your bud was still tingling with aftershocks when he touched the head of his cock to it, angling for pressure.

His girthy shaft sought its spot between your glistening lower lips, hips driving the thick tip up against the underside of your clit, and his hard, veiny surface sliding against your still swollen vulva. Sirius wasn’t going to let the pressure ease for even a minute, making sure to build another climax even stronger than the first for his cock to work you through.

“Inside me, please!” you breathed into his mouth.

“I think you can come just like this, darling,” he argued. “Don’t you?” The ridge of his cockhead massaged your clit furiously with his back and forth, and your body gushed messily all over his shaft. Your nails made deep half moons in his tattooed shoulders.

“Y— yes, I can come for you.” You arched up to grind into his impossibly hard length, seeking the rhythm and friction you needed to push over the edge. It required wild gyration and complete abandonment of any self consciousness. Your breasts bounced against his chest, and you clung so tightly to him to ground yourself that your nose was buried in his curls, smelling his animalic musk.

You screamed as you reached peak again, the tremors tinier this time but still exquisite. Exhausted, you fell limply to the rug and took him with you, giving grateful caresses to the smooth skin of his back. Of course you were still aware of his inches throbbing against your thigh, and you knew you had to summon more energy if you were going to give Sirius the satisfaction he needed. The man hadn’t lain with a woman in nearly a decade and a half, and you wanted his cock thoroughly and ecstatically drained. You’d be lying, though, if your twice-satisfied cunt wasn’t worried about such a massive invasion. Your gratitude for the blissful, explosive orgasms aside— you kind of wish he’d honored your request and fucked you when you were swollen, open, and on fire.

Sirius raised himself on his elbows, gazing down at you with a lazy smile.

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that, Slytherin girl?”

You blinked and jumped. “What?”

Sirius gnawed at his lip and continued to grin, deep blue eyes sparkling. “You heard me.”

“What makes you say that?” you demanded. “You haven’t even guessed Ravenclaw yet!”

“You let me fuck you way too dumb to be a ‘Claw, and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” he pointed out. “I’ve had my fair share of Ravenclaw witches, and they never quite know when to shut up, Merlin love them.”

“Hey, Slytherins are smart too,” you said with a narrowed brow before you could stop yourself.

Sirius gave a hard smack to your arse before pulling you onto your side, his erection buried in your stomach. You laid breasts to chest, feet and legs entangled, faces flush.

“Tell me,” he said with a slight scowl. “How did they let another Slytherin into the Order? Do they not have standards anymore?”

“Oh, fuck you, Black,” you muttered.

“You’re still doing that, darling, don’t worry. No slithering your way out of that one. You know I’m just trying to rile you up and get you going again so you can handle my cock. Maybe a hate-fuck would be a nice game, now that our alliances are on the table? Would you like that?” His fingers tickled down your ribs and hips before finding the triangle he sought, just his fingertips easing lower to scissor your bud.

“Our ‘alliances’ are the same, you prick,” you laughed, accepting his fingers with an approving arch of your hips.

“Yes, but this new tidbit makes it so much more fun,” he insisted. “You’ve delivered on that new experience I wanted. A fine Christmas present indeed.”

“So this is your first time with a Slytherin?” you asked, doing nothing to hide your pride at that possibility.

“Virgin,” Sirius confirmed with a nod. “As if twelve years in Azkaban didn’t revirginize me enough, this makes it official. Now, show me what I’ve been missing.” He collapsed rather dramatically on the rug, hand behind his head, curls strewn about the intricate paisley pattern. His body was breathtaking— glowing in the firelight, each turn of muscle accentuated by shadow, each tattoo taking turns in the spotlight with the maneuver of flames. And at the center of the beauty was that cock, which hadn’t lost a bit of wind with this latest reveal of information. A generous leak of precum glistened at the tip, and you lowered your mouth to drink it in, your hair tickling his thighs. The first taste left you craving more, and your mouth slid over his huge shaft like a sleeve, locking him in your throat. You heard a grunt of shock escape his mouth.

“Fuck, that was fast,” Sirius groaned.

You eased off of him teasingly, lips forming an up and down suction which you accompanied with twists of your hand. He tasted positively feral yet clean and refined, just as you would have imagined. His tip leaked loads into your mouth, feeling like it would burst at any second if it weren’t for his exceptional control.

“Mmm… you taste good, Black,” you moaned approvingly. “Almost good enough that I’d settle for your load in my mouth if I didn’t want you to fuck my pussy so badly.”

“On your knees, fucking snake cunt,” he ordered with a wink, the fact that it was a game unmistakable. You gave one long, final suck up his shaft and gave a squeeze to his balls, drawing another deep groan from him.

In an instant Sirius’s hands were in your hips, holding you in place while his dripping head found your center. He was right— the banter had you on fire again, and your swollen walls took every inch of him as he pushed inside without hesitation.

“Ahhhh!” you cried out, unable to help yourself. His hips were a frenzy, abandoning every bit of his previous control now that he was within your tightness. Your breasts bounced in mad circles with the force of his pounding, and sure enough, you could hear the portraits stirring down the hall from the primal noises the two of you made.

“Oh, Sirius, yes,” you breathed, enjoying the repeated raking of his tip, ridge, and underside along your spongy, swollen front wall. He knew just how much to drag back and surge forward, never breaking the rhythm you needed to build to another crest in a matter of minutes. His chest was sweaty when it made contact with your back, and he occasionally dropped open-mouthed kisses to the skin of your shoulder blades with his forward surges. Every so often he broke his rigid support on the rug to squeeze your breasts, kneading them so tightly you knew you’d have bruises for weeks.

“Feel good, love?” he husked, and you knew he knew full well you were beyond good. His ego just wanted to hear it.

“Yes, Sirius. Fuck yes. Please come inside me.”

And it was truly your foremost want in that moment — to fill his hot cum paint your insides and have the satisfaction of giving him what he’d needed for so long. He renewed his lock tight grip on your hips and granted your request, resuming the pounding of your g-spot but faster now, the friction very much for his benefit— with yours as a mere pleasant side effect.

“Fuck, yes, I’m gonna fill you so full,” he promised breathily. “And you better come for me again. You better scream.”

You reached around to toy with your clit and make sure you obeyed his command, but he swatted your hand away and replaced it with his own, his fingers taking on a rhythm to match his snapping hips. All you could do was let out a long stream of moans and buck furiously in return, knowing that chasing your own pleasure would only increase his. His escalated moans confirmed he was approaching release, and you grinned as you picked up the pace even more feverishly, wanting to torture it out of him.

“Fucking GODS!!!” Sirius yelled, and he emptied into you with one hot jet after another, so much it ran right back out over his trembling cock. You kept your pace even after his cock stilled, the added lubricant from his release making easy work of your movements. The thought of being filled with him made your orgasm deliciously hot and dirty as your walls burned with pain and need. Sirius recovered enough to resume the pace of his fingers on your clit, and you spilled over the edge, lurching forward in a series of shakes that wracked your entire body.

You fell forward onto your belly, a mess dripping from your insides, your muscles and bones useless, your skin bruised. It was every way you should feel after a proper fuck. Your brain positively hummed with endorphins, and you breathed in the deliciousness of your combined sex on the air. You could hear Sirius struggling to regain his breath behind you, and you knew he looked sexy as fuck back there. But you were too exhausted to lift yourself up and look.

You weren’t even sure how much time had passed when you felt his arms encircle you, along with the cold rush of air as he lifted you from the warmth of the rug. He wasn’t a huge man, though you’d heard from other Order members that he was considerably stronger now than when he’d escaped the sea prison two years ago. He carried you easily up multiple twists of stairs until you reached a Gryffindor red room on the very top level. Then Sirius nestled you gingerly into a brightly colored duvet.

“Will you be able to sleep with this much red, or should I move you to the green room next door?” he asked dryly, shuffling his naked body next to yours and leaving you little choice in the matter.

“Well, it is Christmastime,” you reminded him sleepily. “The two play rather nicely together right now.”

Sirius responded by nuzzling into your shoulder, his whiskers scratching tiny red prickles into your skin.

#orderofthephoenix #older sirius black #post azkaban sirius #gary oldman #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #sirius black x y/n #smut #christmas smut #sirius black smut #sirius black imagine #oneshot #grimmauld place

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scary-grace · 1 month ago

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 17) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Chapter 17

When you get to the supply cache, Giran is waiting for you, leaning back against the door of the storage unit and smoking a cigarette. It’s not his first one, either – the ground around his feet is scattered with the remains of five or six more. He notices you looking and smirks. “Seems like I’ve been littering, Saintess. Are you going to absolve me?”

“Only if you want me to,” you say. “Do you have what we ordered?”

“Cash first.”

“We paid in advance,” you remind him. Giran holds out both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Was any of it hard to get?”

“Only what you asked for,” Giran says. “For the others, I’ve got replacement parts for Compress’s arm and Toga’s gear, more of those gloves for Shigaraki, gauntlets for Spinner and Twice – you sure you don’t want a set? They were buy two, get one free.”

You’re not sure if he’s joking or not. “That’s everything for the others. How about for me?”

“Of course.” Giran sets the crate with the rest of the supplies aside and pulls out a smaller box. “I have to say, I was surprised when you asked for this. I didn’t think the League’s resident angel would have any interest in a gun.”

“I’m interested in defending myself,” you say. “Open it.”

Giran opens the box, revealing a gun that looks like any other gun you’ve seen, not that you’ve seen many guns up close. “You don’t know enough to specify, so I chose something beginner-friendly,” he says. “This is a .22 caliber handgun. It’s designed for minimum recoil, so as to avoid knocking you back on your ass when you try to fire it. It’s also designed to be quiet, but I’ve thrown in a silencer free of charge.”

“Thanks,” you say. “What about ammunition?”

“Also included, but I’m charging for that. Thanks to the Americans and their mass shootings, it’s hard to buy ammunition in large quantities anywhere else,” Giran says. “Call it a convenience fee. Additionally, the trigger on this model is known to be fairly sensitive, so trigger discipline is going to be key. You know what that means?”

“I know.” You’ve been researching. “Safety on and fingers off unless I’m planning to shoot someone.”

“The instruction manual’s included,” Giran says. You scowl. “Ask Twice for help if you’re confused. He knows how to shoot.”

“Twice with a gun. That sounds safe.”

“Safer than you,” Giran says. “Running around with villains is one thing. Murder’s something else. I don’t think you have it in you.”

“Then I’ll hand the gun off to somebody who does.” You pick the crate up, grimacing at the weight, and Giran shuts the box with the gun and sets it down on top. “Thanks for getting it for me. Stay safe.”

Giran laughs at that. “Try ‘get lost’ next time. It’ll make you sound more intimidating.”

Your costume is a veil and a crown of thorns, and as of right now your weapon is a backpack. Intimidating is a lost cause. “Thanks for the tip. We’ll be in touch.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Giran lights up another cigarette as he walks away.

You unlock the storage unit and step inside. This is a supply cache you haven’t visited before, and you can tell Mitsuko’s the one who set it up, because there’s a box of condoms prominently perched atop six or seven cases of bottled water. You and the others have a water source right now, and while your medical supplies are dwindling, you don’t need a refill just yet. What you’re short on is food. You set down the crate, followed by your backpack, and open them up. Then you start filling both of them with prepackaged food.

Energy bars are the most efficient, space-wise, and they at least make a gesture at containing any kind of nutrients. Unfortunately, the League of Villains is full of adults with children’s tastes in food, and they wouldn’t know a nutrient if it walked up and introduced itself. It’s taken almost a month into the effort to batter Gigantomachia into submission for them to admit that eating nothing but calorie-rich, nutrient-poor food makes them feel gross. If you could get them real food on a regular basis, you would. But it’s almost never feasible, not with the tiny amount of downtime Tenko and the others are working with. It’s packaged food or nothing. They need to eat.

You pick out a variety of items and stuff them into the crate and your own backpack, text thank-you to Mitsuko while pretending you don’t see her message asking if the condoms were the right size, and head out. There are a few more things to buy before you can head back to the others.

As the medic, you’re responsible for the team’s health, and you’re worried about Tenko in particular. He’s exerting himself more than anyone and resting barely at all, and when he does get to rest, it’s all you can do to convince him to eat a few bites of anything before he passes out. The caloric input to output imbalance has stripped him of any remaining body fat, and when you touch him now, all you can feel are hard ropes of muscle and prominent bones straining beneath his skin.

The caloric imbalance is bad enough, but you’ve seen everything he’s eating, so you know he’s massively vitamin-deficient as well. If he won’t eat enough to get the amount he needs, you’ve got another way to do it. The clerk at the drugstore looks askance at the number of pill bottles you’re carrying. “These aren’t cheap, you know.”

“I know,” you say. “I’ll need a bag.”

The bag plus the crate and your backpack are stupidly heavy. You’re struggling as you head for the train station, gritting your teeth against the pain in your arms. You’ve been more active in the last month and a half than you’ve ever been in your life, and there’s not a day when some part of you isn’t sore. You pause at the bottom of the stairs to the platform and stare dismally upward. This one is going to hurt.

“Do you need help with that?”

You almost jump out of your skin, and almost drop what you’re carrying in the bargain. There’s a girl standing next to you, and you recognize her. In fact, you know her hero name, her real name, her quirk, and her blood type, courtesy of Toga. “Ochako?”

Uraraka Ochako, hero name: Uravity, looks shocked. “You know my name?”

“I remember you from the Sports Festival,” you say. It’s not so much that you remember watching the Sports Festival and more that Toga watches clips of it on YouTube to fall asleep. “You were really good. I liked your plan a lot.”

“Oh, thank you! I just wish it had worked,” Uraraka says ruefully. She gestures at the boxes you’re carrying. “Do you need help with those? I can make them lighter for you.”

You were going to say no, but if all she has to do is touch them – “Thank you so much. That would be really great.”

It’s much easier to get up the stairs when the stuff you’re carrying is lighter than air. Uraraka follows you up. “Do you live nearby? I can help you get them home.”

You shake your head. “I have a really long way to go.”

“I’ll stay until your train gets here,” she decides. You protest that your train’s running late, and she probably has somewhere to be. “My internship is right around here, and I’m off for the day. I don’t mind.”

You sort of mind. You’re on your way to hook back up with the League of Villains and you’re carrying what feels like a literal kiloton of contraband. You have a hard time believing that the word VILLAIN isn’t stamped on your forehead. But you can’t be rude, the crate really is heavy, and Toga will kill you if she finds out that you had the chance to talk to Uraraka and didn’t take it. You struggle for a topic to raise, and your brain suggests the Shie Hassaikai raid. “I saw in the paper that you helped rescue that little girl.”

“That wasn’t me. It was Deku,” Uraraka says. “I helped with other things, but he was the one who saved her.”

“Do you know how she’s doing?” you ask. “Is she okay?”

“She is! She stays with Aizawa-sensei and the other teachers and we all love her so much.” Uraraka is beaming now. “She’s okay even though the League of Villains kidnapped her. I can’t believe they just gave her back.”

Not ‘dumped her’, not ‘threw her away’. Gave her back. Your heart lifts enough that it’s a struggle to come up with the appropriate civilian response. “She must have been so scared. Did they hurt her?”

“That’s the weird part. She says she wasn’t scared,” Uraraka says. She frowns slightly. “She said they were nice to her. They gave her this blanket and this dog plushie. Aizawa-sensei keeps trying to swap it out for a cat plushie, but she won’t let it go.”

“Weird,” you agree. “Are you sure it was the League that got her?”

“She described them all. Shigaraki, Toga, Dabi – everybody.” Uraraka’s frown deepens. “And one we hadn’t heard of before. One nobody had heard of before. Saintess.”

You were hoping Eri wouldn’t remember, but it sounds like she does – and she knows what you look like. Did she describe you, too? Is that why Uraraka won’t leave? You struggle to stay calm. Physically, you don’t stand out. There are probably thousands of people who match your physical description, and Uraraka isn’t acting like a hero who’s just cornered a suspect. Heroes don’t play it cool. She thinks you’re just a random civilian with a bunch of boxes to carry, and she’s helping out. Which is – nice. Heroes aren’t usually nice like that.

“Saintess,” you repeat. “That’s a weird name for a villain.”

“Right?” Uraraka’s frown shifts into confusion. “The whole thing is weird. They’re villains. It’s easier when they just act like it.”

Huh. You don’t spend a lot of time around full-fledged heroes, but when you were Kazuo’s girlfriend, you spent a lot of time around heroes in training, and you don’t remember any of them ever saying something like that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean –” Uraraka pauses to think for a second. “Shigaraki tried to kill us at USJ. The League of Villains attacked us and kidnapped one of my classmates. It’s weird that they’d draw the line at hurting a little kid.”

“Villains have lines?” You fake confusion. “I thought they didn’t care who they hurt.”

“Some of them don’t. The one Deku fought to save Eri definitely didn’t. I guess the League does.” Uraraka looks uneasy. “That doesn’t change anything.”

It does, though. You can see it in her face. The fact that the League let Eri go, that they took care of her while they had her, is challenging her worldview to a degree she’s not comfortable with. You need to ease off, switch the topic before she doubles down – and before you can slip up defending the others. “I’m glad she wasn’t hurt, and that she’s doing better. It sounds like you all care about her a lot, and everybody deserves people who love them.”

“They do.” Uraraka’s smile returns at last, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You got her to agree to that statement in the middle of a conversation about the League. That feels less like a narrow escape and more like a win.

Your train arrives late, and you bid Uraraka goodbye and thank her for her help. Then you climb onto the train with your crate full of supplies and check the time on your phone. If you’re lucky, you’ll get back just as the fighting’s dying down.

At first you thought Gigantomachia could keep fighting forever, but it turns out that his strength and stamina aren’t infinite – just more than sufficient to outlast any normal human. He can fight for three days at a stretch, hibernate for less than three hours, and pick up right where he left off. There’s no hiding from. Wherever he is, he’ll seek Tenko out, and while Twice’s copies of Tenko can keep him occupied for a short time, three and a half hours is the longest break you’ve ever seen Tenko get.

It’s not enough. Not even close. The fight against the giant is destroying Tenko, and there’s nothing you can do except try to make sure he eats something before he falls asleep – and try to make sure that whatever sleep he does get is as restful as humanly possible.

The train gods are kind to you. You get back on time, meet Compress just outside the small town nearest to where Tenko and the others are fighting so he can contain the supplies and make them easier to carry, then head towards the base camp that’s been set up for the hibernation period. Compress’s phone rings as the two of you hurry along. It’s Twice, and you can hear him shouting even though he’s not on speaker. “Do you have her? He’s going to want to see her.”

“I’m here,” you say. No matter what, you make sure you’re there when the fighting pauses. It’s the only time you get to see Tenko these days. “How is he?”

“This was a rough one,” Twice says, but he says that every time. “Better hurry.”

You pick up the pace until you’re practically jogging. It’s been three days since you saw Tenko, and you’ve missed him a lot more than you want to let on to the others. You know they don’t question your commitment to the League or your devotion to him. You just don’t want them to know how far it really goes.

You reach the base camp a few seconds before Tomura and Twice do, and it’s just enough time for Compress to release the supplies and for you to set them down before Tomura collides with you. You realize instantly that Twice wasn’t kidding – instead of his usual limp exhaustion, Tomura’s shaky, and when he hugs you, you can feel his heart beating through his ribs. The level of adrenaline in his system must be absurd. He’s not getting to sleep like this, and if you wait for him to crash, he’ll be exhausted by the time the fighting picks back up again.

You piece together a plan on the fly, a plan that will hopefully net you some time to make sure he eats and get him at least an hour of uninterrupted sleep. Tomura’s trying to put on his gloves without letting go of you. You step back out of his embrace and take hold of his wrist. “Come with me.”

You don’t tell Twice and Compress where you’re going or what you’re doing, but you have a feeling they can guess. As much as that makes you cringe, it’s not enough to stop you. This is important. You have to calm Tomura down if you want him to sleep at all, and even though it’s selfish, you want a chance to be close to him again. Tomura puts on his gloves clumsily as you walk, his hands shaking too badly to fasten the Velcro around his wrists. You stop walking, turn, and do it for him. Then you take both his hands in yours and pull him forward into a kiss.

Tenko kisses you back with enthusiasm, in spite of the fact that his lips split and bleed instantly, that his hands are shaking so badly that he can barely hold onto yours. You nudge him a few steps backwards, and a few more, until he’s leaning against a tree. You’re not pinning him, exactly, but it’s close. “Hey,” Tenko mumbles against your mouth. You don’t want to interrupt him, so you switch to kissing his neck, conscious of just how little time you have. “Where did you go? Twice said you left.”

“Supply run.” You pull his jacket down from his shoulders, then tug the neckline of his shirt aside to kiss him there. “I made sure I’d be back in time. I wouldn’t have risked not seeing you.”

“I know.” The affection in Tenko’s voice is direct and obvious enough to make you blush. “We’re making progress. I’m wearing him down.”

“You’re a wreck.” You ignore the insulted noise he makes, a noise that turns sharp when your teeth scrape along his collarbone. “Something happened today. What was it?”

“Twice doubles you, sometimes. In case I get hurt and the others aren’t close enough to help.” Tenko’s grip on you is bruising. “He didn’t tell me he’d done it. That thing got to you. It threw you –”

And he wouldn’t have seen the copy dissolve, the way all of Twice’s copies do when they take too much damage. He’d have thought Gigantomachia killed you, and he probably wouldn’t have believed Twice when Twice told him it was just a clone. “I’m okay,” you tell him. You bite his shoulder lightly to underscore the point, making him shiver. “I was a long way away from this.”

“I don’t want you a long way away. I need you – here –”

You slide your hand under his shirt and run your fingers along his flank, swallowing alarm at just how prominent his ribs are. Then you trace downward, finding the waist of his pants. Tenko goes tense. “What are you doing?”

“I need you to relax, or you won’t be able to fall asleep in time,” you explain in between kisses to his neck. “This is the best way.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No,” you say. “I miss you.”

“Me, too. No, you, too. I mean – fuck, I miss you too.” Tenko fumbles the sentence, but that doesn’t surprise you. Underneath the adrenaline rush, he’s exhausted, and you did just stick your hand down his pants. “Fuck, that feels good –”

“Good.” You tug his pants and underwear down to free his cock. “Relax.”

Tenko slumps, half against the tree, half against you. “What about you?” he mumbles.

“Don’t think about that.” You kiss his cheek, the corner of his jaw, and begin to stroke his cock in earnest. “Let me take care of you.”

It kills you that this is the best you can do – one quick hookup in the forest, before you feed him whatever he’s willing to eat along with a bunch of vitamins to make up for the nutrients he’s not getting and try to get him to fall asleep. But you’re never anything but pleased to have a chance to be close to him, and it amazes you how completely Tenko gives up control. His legs shift apart to make more room for your hand, tilts his head to one side so you can go back to kissing his neck, moans when your lips move over his scars. One hand is scrabbling for purchase on the trunk of the tree you’re leaning against. The other is glued to you, struggling to work its way under your jacket and shirt to make contact with your skin.

You told him not to worry about you, but you’re going to have a hard time walking back to the others like this. Your face is hot and you’re way too wet for the fact that you barely kissed him. This is Tenko’s fault. It’s his fault for going from too embarrassed to let you see his face when he comes to letting go of any sense of shame, and it’s your fault for finding it really hot. Are you really this addicted to being wanted, needed? When it comes to Tenko, absolutely.

The two of you have been together long enough now that you know when he’s close, just by the way his breath catches and his hips jerk. You pull away, ignoring Tenko’s protests, and sink to your knees in front of him. When you glance up, you find him staring at you, jaw dropped and face flushed. “It’s not as messy,” you say by way of explanation. You steady yourself with one hand on his hip and lean in to take his cock in your mouth.

Blowjobs aren’t your favorite thing in the world, but you’re a big fan of the effect they have on Tenko. You’ve gotten better at handling your gag reflex, and you never have to handle it for very long. Tenko lasts maybe thirty seconds before he gasps out a warning and his hips jerk sharply forward. You don’t let up, even when the taste of his cum fills your mouth. You don’t just need him calm, you need him relaxed to the point where he can barely keep his eyes open, and drawing back by degrees, lavishing attention on his tip as your hand closes around his length, is the only way you can think of to make it stick.

Tenko squirms but doesn’t tell you to stop, and a few small spurts of cum paint your tongue. You stop, draw back, and swallow a few times. Then you look up to see the results for yourself.

You’re sort of worried you might have killed him. He looks semiconscious, his chest rising and falling rapidly, lips split and mouth open to pant for breath. You pick yourself up off the ground, bringing his coat with you, and he pushes it away in favor of struggling to pull up his pants. His free hand slides almost absentmindedly between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans, and you’re so turned on that the sensation makes you gasp.

You struggle to stay focused. “We don’t have time.”

“It won’t take long.” Tenko’s eyes are barely open, but his mouth tilts into a crooked grin.

Once he’s got his pants up, he goes after yours, one hand down the front of them just like you did to him. His fingers brush your clit, then dip lower, and when you try to pull away, his other hand seizes your hip and pulls you against him, too tight to pull away. “Tenko,” you protest again. “There’s not enough time –”

“Not with that attitude.”

Your attitude isn’t going to matter all that much. Just like you’ve gotten to know his body, he knows yours – which means he probably knows how badly you want his fingers inside you and how frustrated you are that he won’t stop teasing your clit. But your attitude doesn’t matter, and you need him enough to take what you can get. It’s been a month since you were together like this. You miss him too much to say no.

His touch sends sparks through you, and you bite back a gasp. It’s hard to spread your legs wider when you’re standing, but you give it your best shot, and Tenko slides two fingers inside you. He mimics the shallow thrusts that drive you insane when you have sex, only this time, he’s been teasing you too long for you to hold out. You bury your face in his shoulder as his languid, barely-enough touches tip you over the edge.

When he speaks, he sounds triumphant – or maybe smug. “Told you it wouldn’t take long.”

You don’t know how much time Tenko just burned through. Too much. “Come on. We need to go back.”

“Say I’m right first.”

“Fine. You’re right.”

“I know.” Tenko yawns. “Love you.”

You kiss him instead of responding in kind, your mouth coming away bloody. “Let’s go.”

If Twice and Compress know what you were up to, they have the sense not to comment on it. If Dabi was here instead of off cultivating an ally, you’d never hear the end of it. You sit Tomura down next to the fire Twice must have built and dive into the supply box, coming up with food and water and the collection of vitamins you sorted out on the train. Tomura shakes his head. “I’m tired.”

“You need to eat.” Your plan might have worked a little too well. You hold two energy bars out to him and he grimaces. “Okay, fine. If you won’t eat, at least take these.”

Tomura makes an even worse face at the sight of the pills. “What are those?”

“Vitamins,” Compress says from across the fire. “Saintess has decided that we’ll get our essential nutrients one way or the other.”

“That’s right. I don’t want to have to treat any of you for scurvy,” you say. Twice snickers. You return your attention to Tomura and pull out your only remaining weapon, other than a whiny-girlfriend guilt-trip. “If you won’t eat and take your medicine, you can’t use me as a pillow.”

“Oh, come on.”

“You already did,” you say as quietly as possible. Tomura tries to glare at you, but the effect’s spoiled both by his mouth twitching as he tries to hold in laughter and the enormous yawn that swallows up whatever retort he was going to come up with. “Just eat a little bit. Please.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Tomura mutters, and you know you’ve won. You pass over the water bottle, followed by the pills. “Otherwise this would be annoying as hell.”

“I’d be a bad sidekick if I didn’t take care of you,” you say. “And I’d be a bad medic if I let any of you pass out from vitamin deficiency.”

“Or get scurvy,” Twice hoots.

“Scurvy?” Spinner and Toga are back, Spinner to relieve Compress and Toga to continue her mission to collect some of Gigantomachia’s blood. It hasn’t worked yet, but it keeps her busy. “Who has scurvy?”

“All of us, according to Saintess,” Twice says, cackling. “She’s gonna make us take our vitamins.”

“That’s right,” you say, as Tomura downs a handful of pills and chases them with half the water bottle. You’re worried you’ll have to fight him over the energy bar, but he peels back the wrapper and takes a bite without prompting. “Twice, get over here. You’re next.”

“So the supply pickup went okay,” Spinner says, coming closer as you hand Twice his vitamins. “You didn’t run into any trouble with Giran?”

“He gave me a hard time for not being a real villain, but that’s it,” you say. “He found the gauntlets you and Twice asked for. And the spare parts for your gear, Toga.”

“I can fix it while we’re waiting,” Toga says brightly. She peers into the supply box, then emerges immediately with a gasp. “This is a cute little gun! Who’s it for?”

“Me,” Spinner says at once. “I need a ranged weapon until I get better at throwing knives.”

You wonder if Spinner knows he’s covering for you. You can ask him later, once Tomura’s asleep. Toga doesn’t look convinced. “You need something bigger,” she says. “You have muscles. It’ll look silly if you’re holding such a small gun.”

“I’ll tell Saintess to send it back, then,” Spinner says. “Quit messing with it. It might be loaded.”

You’re pretty sure it’s not loaded, but your internet gun safety research made sure to point out that even if the gun looks empty, there could still be a round in the chamber – and Toga’s having a little too much fun pointing it around and striking poses. You need to put a pin in that, and you’ve got just the thing. “If you don’t quit messing around with that, I’m not going to tell you who I met today.”

“You just met Giran,” Toga says. You allow a smirk to cross your face. “Wait, who else? You have to tell me!”

“Put the gun away. Then I’ll think about it.”

“Saintess –”

The sound of a wrapper crumpling up yanks you clear of Toga’s whining, and you glance over to see that Tomura’s eaten both energy bars and finished the bottle of water. He looks even sleepier than before. “Okay,” you say. “How do you want to do this?”

Over the last month, Tomura’s tried out a variety of positions for using you as a pillow, and his favorite involves him sprawled out on top of you with his head on your chest. Your favorite is when he’s got his head in your lap and you can mess with his hair, but you’re not the one running a potentially-deadly sleep deficit. You find a rock to lean back against, and Tomura flops down on you. Usually he rustles around a bit, trying to get comfortable, but this time he’s out like a light as soon as his head hits your chest. It’s a deeper sleep than usual, which is good. He needs every second.

It’s not until you hear snickering that you realize where one of Tomura’s hands has landed. “I knew the boss was a boob guy,” Twice crows as you move Tomura’s hand off your breast, cringing the whole way. “There’s no way to go wrong. No, bullshit! The ass is where it’s at!”

Spinner shushes him, looking about as uncomfortable as you feel. Toga, meanwhile, drops down next to you. “I put the gun away. Tell me who you met. Was it Izuku?”

You’ve met Izuku. As of today, you’re two for three on Toga’s hero crushes. “I met Uraraka.”

“Ochako?” Toga squeals. Thankfully, Tomura’s too deeply asleep to stir. “That’s even better! How did she look? Was she wearing her school uniform or her costume? Say it was her costume – no, her uniform! We’d look so cute if we matched, don’t you think?”

You think Uraraka wouldn’t have been nearly as nice to you if she’d known you were going to report back about her to Toga. “It wasn’t her costume or her uniform. Civilian clothes. She had this pink coat –”

“Like mine?”

“No, puffy,” you say. Toga nods, beaming. She gestures for you to go on. “Um, and she had a hat that matched. With a white pompom on it.”

Toga looks like she’s going to faint. “Did you talk to her?” she asks. You nod. “Did she mention me?”

You don’t want Toga to have a heart attack, but you also don’t want to lie. “She mentioned Tomura and Dabi and you,” you say. Toga blushes. “I asked her about Eri – I figured even civilians would know about that, since her picture was all over everything – and she said Eri mentioned you specifically.”

“Wait, she remembers us?” Spinner looks alarmed. “How much?”

“More than I thought she would,” you admit. “But apparently it’s good. She remembers that we took care of her.”

“Ochako told you that?”

You nod. “It seemed like it was messing with her. The idea that we’d treat a kid we kidnapped well.”

“It shouldn’t mess with her,” Twice says. “We kidnapped the explosion kid and we were nice to him, too. And he wasn’t even cute.”

“I don’t like him. He’s mean,” Toga complains. “We should have stolen Izuku instead. He looks so cute covered in blood – I know you’d like him, Saintess –”

“I met him.”

Toga’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of her head. She swats you on the shoulder. “When?”

It takes her fifteen minutes to forgive you for not mentioning that you handed Eri off directly to Midoriya himself, and another fifteen minutes for her to interrogate you for every detail of that interaction, too. “You’d tell me if you met Tsu, right?” she demands, looking like she’s this close to drawing a knife on you. “You wouldn’t hide that from me. You wouldn’t dare.”

“I haven’t met her,” you say. “If I do, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

“Which one is Tsu?” Spinner probably wishes he’d left this conversation half an hour ago, but for some reason he’s still hanging on. “The pink one?”

“No, look!” Toga’s downloaded every UA Sports Festival video to her phone. She pulls one up and shows Spinner. “I love her big eyes and her hair – and she’s so mean! She says we’re not friends, but I know we are –”

“You have a crush on a heteromorph?”

Toga gives Spinner a weird look. “You can’t have her, she’s mine. But you’d have a crush on her, too.”

“That wouldn’t be weird. I’m a heteromorph. But you –” Spinner stops, shakes his head. “Forget it.”

“It’s okay.” Toga pats his shoulder. “Love is just weird like that. It doesn’t care about the stuff we care about. Like Tomura-kun and Saintess. Tomura loves her and he says it all the time. She loves him too but she never says it back. I would hate it if someone did that to me! But they don’t mind, so it’s fine.”

She gives Spinner a meaningful look. “I don’t mind, so it’s fine. Besides, I’m a heteromorph, too.”

She is, technically speaking – her amber eyes and almost-fangs are far enough from the human standard to count – but it’s a tone-deaf thing to say to someone like Spinner, who can’t hide who he is. You can tell it bothers him, but he stays put, and Toga eventually gets up to repair her support items. And Spinner stays. It occurs to you that he might want to talk to you. Alone.

He doesn’t speak up until there are twenty-eight minutes left on the clock, when it’s just him leaning against one side of the rock and you with Tomura fast asleep in your arms on the other. “How come you don’t say it?”

“What?”

“Toga’s right. He says it all the time, but you never do.” Spinner is cringing, like he can’t believe he’s saying this. You can’t believe he’s saying it, either. “What’s the deal? Do you – not?”

“Why are you asking me that?” You don’t mean to sound as defensive as it comes out, but you’re honestly confused. Then it occurs to you why Spinner, the person in the League who’s least likely to comment on anybody else’s life, is bringing it up. “Did he say something?”

“When? In between trying not to get flattened by Machia and sleeping for two hours at a stretch?” Spinner can’t make eye contact with you. He keeps looking away. “He said something one time while we were hiding. Asked if it was normal that you wouldn’t say it, like I know anything about girls.”

You think Spinner would probably do okay with girls once they got to know him. “If anything goes wrong with you two, it’ll snap his focus and he’ll get us all killed,” Spinner continues. “I want to see his vision come true and I don’t want to die. So I’m asking. That’s why.”

“I do,” you say. Spinner looks relieved, but he doesn’t look surprised. “I don’t know why I don’t say it. It feels like – a lot. Like something will happen. I don’t know what.”

Spinner gives you a curious look. “Something bad?”

“Just something.” This is making you feel stupid. “I do, though. I thought it was obvious.”

“I mean, it is.” Spinner gestures awkwardly at the two of you. Tomura’s still dead to the world, and maybe drooling a little bit. You must be really far gone, because you think it’s sort of cute. “Like I said. I don’t know anything about girls, but I don’t think someone who didn’t love somebody else would put it on the line like this. It was just a question. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You want to stop talking about this, and you’ve got a question for him. “Why’d you cover for me earlier? You must have known the gun was mine.”

“It would have freaked him out.” Spinner doesn’t have to say who he’s talking about. “He thinks it’s his job to protect you, since you’re his sidekick. And his girlfriend. And if you’re using a gun, you can commit actual crimes. The kind people get put away for. I don’t think he wants that.”

You’re pretty sure you’re already going away if you get caught. You haven’t directly participated except in the attack on the CRC, but that was probably enough to put you within Kazuo’s search parameters, and if your interaction with Uraraka told you anything, it’s that the villain named Saintess is officially on the heroic radar. But Spinner’s got a point. Right now you can only be charged as an accomplice to the League’s crimes. That charge carries a significantly lighter sentence than whatever you’d do with a gun.

Still – “Tomura can’t be everywhere,” you say. He stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake. “I can’t have him getting distracted trying to look after me, so I have to be able to look out for myself.”

Spinner doesn’t answer, but you know he knows you’re right. “Don’t tell anybody I have it,” you say.

“I’m not going to lie to him.”

“Don’t lie to him. If he says “hey, Spinner, does my girlfriend have a gun”, tell him the truth.” As far as you’re concerned, it never needs to get that far. “Just don’t tattle on me.”

“Don’t say tattle. Say snitch,” Spinner corrects. ‘It sounds more – villain.”

That’s the second person today who’s knocked you for not being villainous enough. “Fine. Don’t snitch on me.”

“Deal,” Spinner says. It’s quiet for a moment. “Do you ever think about what happens when we win?”

“You and me come up with a new world that doesn’t suck?”

“Besides that,” Spinner says. “Like what has to happen for it to count as a win. We don’t all have the same answer. Toga thinks it’s a win as long as the stuff she likes makes it through. Twice probably thinks it’s a win if Toga makes it, and Compress probably just wants to do the same stuff he’s always done and not get arrested. Who even knows about Dabi.”

“He’s got a mission,” you say, and Spinner snorts. You’re starting to see where he’s headed with this. “What about you and me?”

“We win if we build the new world,” Spinner says. He glances down at Tomura, whose hand has migrated back to your breast in his sleep. You move it off again. “And we lose if he’s not in it.”

You blink, taken aback. “I don’t have another best friend,” Spinner continues. “I can’t replace the one I have. And you can’t replace him.”

“I know,” you say. And then, without thinking: “I tried.”

Spinner stares at you, opens his mouth, but before he can say a word – and before you can backtrack straight to Yokohama – your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. So does everybody else’s, plus Spinner’s watch and your stupid laptop, which is shut and supposed to be off in your backpack. The clamor sends a jolt of pure fear down your spine, just like it does every time you hear it. It’s your timer, synced to everyone else’s. Gigantomachia’s awake.

Tomura lurches awake, in command from the second his eyes open. “Twice, send out a double to buy us time. Make it run.”

“It can only run as fast as you can –”

“I’ve gotten faster. Send it to the hills. He’ll have a harder time with the terrain.” Tomura gets to his feet, and you scramble after him. He turns to you. “Get clear. We’ll drop a pin once we have a new campsite. Will you –”

There’s not time for that question, and he should know the answer. You silence him with a kiss. “I’ll be there.”

He’s already peeling off his gloves, fastening on his family’s hands, scanning the horizon. “I love you.”

You remember what Spinner said. The question Tomura apparently asked him. How just showing it might not be enough. That you shouldn’t expect it to be enough – but you can’t get the words out. You need to try something else. You grab his hand, careful to avoid his fingers, and raise it to your lips, kissing the heel of his hand, the center of his palm, the ridges of his knuckles. His hands have so many scars now. He’s being hurt, and you can’t help him. There’s nothing you can do.

Tomura’s grip on your hand tightens, index fingers raised. The ground rattles slightly beneath your feet, and he lets go. “Run.”

Compress has already contained the supplies; Twice has stomped out the fire. He and Spinner have their gauntlets, and Toga’s support item is fixed. They’re ready to go, and so should you be. You spare one more glance for Tomura, then turn to flee, bolting into the woods alongside Compress as Gigantomachia’s silhouette appears over the horizon.

The two of you shed your disguises at the outskirts of the same town, uncompressing the supplies to reorganize them. “Spinner forgot his gun,” Compress remarks. “Shall I hold onto it?”

“I will,” you say. “We’ll see him at the same time, and nobody’s going to search me.”

Compress nods. “I’ll be getting some sleep. I’m three days behind. What about you?”

Your phone pings with a fresh text, and your heart sinks when you see the number. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of. Keep me updated.”

Compress nods again, and the two of you split. He heads down the street, probably aiming for the capsule hotel you scoped out on your way into town, and you go in the opposite direction, towards the train station. You don’t check your messages until you’re waiting on the platform.

You texted Kazuo a few days ago, asking him a question, ordering him not to look unless his health allows it. You’ve been anxiously awaiting his reply, if it comes at all, and now you’ve gotten six texts from him in a row. Your heart races as you open them.

Kazuo: Yoshimi is in remission. Mitsuko and Ryuhei are supporting her in your absence. All three appear to be doing well.

Kazuo: Their involvement with your friend has not been noticed.

That’s good news. You’ve been thinking about her. And about them. For a moment, you’re almost suffocated by a wish that you could celebrate with them. You gave up your old life, your old friends. And you miss them even more than you thought you would. You swallow hard and keep reading.

Kazuo: Your codename has appeared on the official roster for the League of Villains. They are attempting to track you by quirk and criminal history, and therefore coming up empty.

Kazuo: I’ll keep you clear as long as I can, but if they sufficiently alter their questions, I won’t be able to.

Kazuo: I was able to look into the question you gave me. It was specific enough to instantly rule out all other answers, so I thank you for that.

Kazuo: The answer is yes. Congratulations.

Your eyes go blurry, and a second later, your throat closes off. Your train arrives, but you don’t get on it – instead you sit down on a bench, staring down at the floor between your feet, trying not to cry and furious with yourself for wanting to cry at all. You asked Kazuo to use his quirk and see if you – you, identified by your birthdate, blood type, height, career, and city you were born in, for all the specifics he could ever need – have a latent quirk. You trust his word over the doctor’s. His quirk isn’t wrong, ever. You told yourself that you’d accept his answer as the truth. You were hoping he’d say no.

Instead he says yes. You do have a latent quirk, something that’s been hidden your whole life because the conditions necessary to awaken it have never been met. They’ll probably never be met, and your quirk is probably worse than useless, but the fact that it’s latent means you’ve spent your whole life being treated like you’re quirkless when you aren’t. You should feel cheated. Instead you feel betrayed.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. If you don’t know what it is, it’s like you don’t have it at all. Nothing needs to change. You don’t need to tell anyone. You tell yourself that, but it doesn’t make much of a different. The doctor knows, and so does Kazuo. So does All For One.

The next train arrives long before you’ve calmed down, but you get up and shamble aboard anyway. Nobody looks at you – not for long, anyway. Most people go out of their way to avoid seeing others’ pain. When your eyes have cleared a little bit, you take your phone out and start looking up firing ranges. You might not be able to be useful to Tenko and the others with your stupid, latent quirk. But you can definitely be useful to them with a gun.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x you #shimura tenko x reader #tenko shimura x reader #shimura tenko x you #tenko shimura x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #please hold

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firefly--bright · 2 years ago

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jean kirstein modern headcanons!!!

warnings : none! gender neutral pronouns used, if any.

a/n: HI HELLO I'm so so SO sorry for the late fics. my finals ended like a month ago and oh my god I've just been Going Places™ like my schedule is jam packed with meeting up with people i haven't seen in three months because of the exams :/ I'm working on the requests!!! i promise, i read them and i am working on them. but!!! here are some headacanons to.... make up for the lack of content :3

taglist : @mrsnobodynobody , @holding-ishu-and-a-book

✿ masterlist is in linked in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist ✿

• he doesnt have a big sweet tooth but he LOVES chocolate like can't live without it. if you're also a chocolate person, he'll buy your fav ones for you and lowkey judges you for it ("why would you like this one???? the one i like is wayyy better you should get those")

• he's most definitely a friend's to lovers type guy. he never really thought he would be, though. he's a hopeless romantic and falls in love with anyone and everyone BUT he's also, as mentioned before, more hopeless than romantic. he'll yearn for the person from a distance, so he doesn't really think that he would go and fall in love with his best friend, of all people. you fall first he falls harder type beat yk?

• he's kind of gives off this confident, cocky and kind of intimidating vibe about him. when you first met him you just knew he thought a little too highly of himself. but after getting to know him, he's super vulnerable and soft and actually tries to be close to you. his intimidating Mr. i-fold-my-arms-over-my-chest-to-show-off-my-biceps persona is just a front, like he thinks being that coccky guy will make people think he's like mysterious or something and want to be his friend/partner

• i have a bi jean agenda actually

• thinks VERY highly of you. asks for your advice on everything even if you might not be good at giving it, hed want to know what you, specifically, think

• he's an architecture major :D i know alot of people have diff headcanons of him doing pol-sci/law (which are all valid tbh i agree with those hcs) but!!! i think he chose architecture because he has the right amount of passion for it. it's the closest thing to art he can have. he loves art but he's also aware that it doesn't...pay well, neither does he want to loose his passion for art. hes heard one too many stories of people choosing art and regretting it because their passion for art is no longer just a passion. Jean's scared he'd lose his love for it.

• isn't really used to physical touch, and if you're a touchy feely person, he's a little surprised when you hold him for the first time. he quickly grows into loving your touch tho and initiates cuddles :)

• hes kinda super smart. like he scores really well in class and always has. not only that, but he's gifted athletically as well

• he's more of a listener than a talker, i think. hed initiate conversation, ask you about you day and let you take away the conversation. doesn't really mind if it's "all about you", but if you ask him about anything, he'd gladly talk.

• hes actually SO shy when it comes to actually doing relationshippy things. the first time you held hands as a couple and not just friends, he had a nervous breakdown. he couldn't even look you in the eyes when he asked you out on a date, even if it was just a casual movie night at home

• he's very organized, surprisingly. he's not a clean freak but he just likes knowing where things are. rarely rearranges anything because it not only frustrates the hell out of him, he'd also have to get used to the new arrangements.

• he has a fixed skincare routine!!! he had acne as a teenager so he started taking skincare more seriously. knows a lot about different products, and if you don't have a fixed skincare routine, he'd tell you to have one. if you have super sensetive skin (like me) and can't handle anytjing other than basic face wash, he'd remind you to wash your face every night.

• he also is protective of his hair!!! he used to have dyed hair, but it didn't go well. he TRIED to bleach his hair but failed and half of his hair came out :')) he never dyes his hair anymore but he does freshen up his mullet every now and then. doesn't let anyone but his mom and you touch his hair.

• asks you if you can help him with oiling his hair because he saw one of those tiktoks saying they work really well. if you're anything like me and are used to oiling your hair every week, you'd massage his hair and his eyes close and his entire body relaxes the moment your hands weave through his hair <3

• LOVES showing you off. either in little ways (by swinging your hands together while walking) or by literally making his entire Instagram page about you. all of his six posts (he rarely posts, but whenever he does it's all about you) have you in them. the cheesiest captions, too. if that wasn't enough, he'd have (y/n)'s with your fav colour heart emoji next to your name in his bio to let literally everyone know who he's with.

• he actually loves to cook!!!! as said before, he'd very organized, so i feel like he'd also be into meal prepping. he watched those aesthetically pleasing videos of people rearranging their fridges with ungodly amounts of plastic cabinets. his own fridge is sort of a mess becahse he doesn't know what goes where :') but he does meal prep, and sometimes even packs you lunches with lil notes

• speaking of notes, he's not really good at talking about his love for you. like he'd show it in so many ways but he can't say it out loud. not only does he get uncharacteristically shy, he's always had issues with saying the words "i love you" out loud, so he either writes about it or draws you <3 you'd find random notes and letters written to you, sometimes with just. a cheesy joke, sometimes he actually Tries and writes a whole letter for you pouring out all the things he can't say out loud.

• the start of your friendship, you two bicker alot. it's clear you care about each other, but he loves teasing you because he knows you'll shoot back.

• he wears really thin eyeliner on special occasions <3 he doesn't like bold looks, but he does like how subtly the eyeliner makes his eyes look different. if yiure good at makeup, he'd ask you to help him.

• has a plethora of diff hats tbh like he collects them like an addiction. he has a fedora and beanies and bucket hats and normal embroidered hats. he has so many it's concerning

• he's very good at driving. when the two of you started getting closer, he'd ask you on long late night drives, either for take-out or just to listen to music and talk. he enjoys your company while driving. if you usually have motion sickness in cars, you will never feel nauseous in his car. he drives very smoothly, not too fast and not too slow. he's kind of a perfectionist (not extremely) and literally screams at Connie to slow down when he goes even a little over the speed limit. he drives the whole time in every road trip.

• his fav dessert is cheesecake. his unpopular opinion is that they're the perfect ratio of sweet and savoury, crunchy and soft.

• hes one of those people to fall asleep anywhere and everywhere. on the couch, at the table, no matter how loud it is or how bright it is. he's a light sleeper and also a snorer. if you're cuddling together, he'd either lay on top of you or wraps not one but both of his arms around you. one under your neck to provide a nice neck cushion, and one draped over your stomach.

• he runs warm, which is both a blessing and a cruse. in summers, even if he'd want to cuddle with you, you feel the need to get as far away as him because he's just so warm. you'd wake up in your own sweat if you do decide to take the risk and let him cuddle you. in winters though, his warmth is very welcome.

• loves it when you hug his arm while walking. if you're tired and kind of lean into him, expect him to eat that shit UP because he loves your warmth as much as you love his. loves it when you lean into him or hug his bicep. even flexes his muscles for effect (you definitely tease him for that)

• is not a fan of thunderstorms, he kind of has bad memories. either from being left out while the ither kids play in the rain, either from the rumbling and the scary sound that comes with thunders that resembles the sound of his angry father or its just how inconvenient it is.

• his dad wasn't really in his life that much, always away on business. every time he would come home, he'd srot of criticize jean's hobbies :( his mom eventually seperated from Jean's father and started her own bakery, hence Jean's love for chocolates.

• he panics very hard when you feel sick. he jumps right into his mama bird genes and makes you a soup from either his mother's recipie or he'd call your mother and ask her for her own sick day recipies. he'd feed it to you and refuse to leave you alone until you've had your meds.

• he loves kissing your forearm for some reason. you loop your hands around his neck after kissing him, so it's the closest to his mouth. he turns his head slightly, closing his eyes as he pecks your forearm :3 it's kinda a weird spot to like kissing, but it's really endearing when it comes from him.

• he has a couple small tattoos here and there. two of the five he has have actual meaning whereas the other three are just for fun

• he wants whatever you want. if you want children in the future, he'd be there with you. if you want nothing but a large house and a couple pets, he'd love to make your dream come true. he's passionate and extremely good at what he does, and he takes pride in it.

✿

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x you #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan

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ryuichirou · 1 month ago

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Replies

New week!

Replies mostly related to our recent posts, but some are miscellaneous (twst related and not). Also, there is a shitpost sketch at the end of the post lol

Anonymous asked:

Just a random question but what was your very first ship?

Can’t even say for certain because it’s been like 20 years already lol But the first one that I called a ship would probably be Cedric/Phobos from W.I.T.C.H.

Look at me loving backstabbing scheming douchebags since day one…

Anonymous asked:

I feel like their was two bodies after the twins delt with things, cause even tiny as heck I can see them taking bodies

(related to this post)

Aw come on, Anon, look at those innocent angels!! (you are absolutely right)

Anonymous asked:

hi i sent the cat dad ask, that was the CUTEST thing i’ve ever read in my entire life it was adorable and everything and more than what i’d hoped for omg!! my flowers are watered, my skin is clear, my illness is cure😭😭😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

idia being the most enamored cat dad is so cute AAUGGHHH i think lilia would make matching outfits for him and his cat, maybe with pop music club’s help. vil cooking for his cat!!! 😭😭😭 oh his pretty kitty would have their own engraved bowl. i think vil would send so many pictures to his dad

all of this is extra cute to me with the idea that i had that these strays are probably leading difficult lives on the streets but aren’t scared of humans. it’d be a “to be loved is to be changed” moment (pls look it up it’s before and afters of sad cats and it’s SO CUTE). ok i’m sorry i’ll stop haranguing you about cats JSKDKDKS THANK YOU AGAIN

— shroudswap anon

(related to this post)

Aah, it was you, Shroudswap Anon!!

I am very happy you liked the post, once again thank you for the ask! <3 It really was a lovely one to write! Somehow, it’s easier to write wholesome stuff about boys caring for animals than for each other lol

But also, what have you done, now I’m thinking about Vil sending cat pics to his dad… His dad became a grandpa the day that cat chose Vil as his human lol I’m sure he is going to send them even more gifts than Vil buys for the cat + spoil the cat rotten as much as he can.

But also, what have you done [2], now I’m also thinking about how these strays would be so much happier and healthier with the boys taking care of them :( To be loved is to be changed indeed!! Just look at Jamil smiling to his cat lol

I’m always happy to talk about cats…

Anonymous asked:

Sister Idia must be the very image of a saint with his ethereal glow. Nevermind that the glow is coming from his hair, that's just a physical manifestation of God's grace, obviously.

Also be honest, are the sick nuns getting a healthy diet of shrooms in the infirmary? I guess that's one way to experience mystical ecstasy

(related to our new AU)

The symbolism is all here, Anon! That imagery suits Idia so well. I really want to draw him holding a lamb or something lol

To answer your question… people say that sister Jade cares for the sick ones so well that whenever it’s their time to go, they always die smiling <3 It’s like their pain just went away and they fell asleep peacefully~

So yes, he does feed them with stuff they’re not quite supposed to eat and add some funky additions to the stuff he injects them with lol

m1lk-n-cook1es asked:

The nun au reminds me of a Little Mermaid fanfic from the same author as "Once Upon A Nightmare" that I told you a while back, where mermaids are more inhuman, with tentacles that look like fins in the distance, claws and fangs, and Ariel banging Eric (who is a trans guy) and impregnating him with her eggs

Dark themes and mermaids are always fun!! In fact, I think people should consider merpeople to be dangerous more often lol

Fun idea for a fic though :) Poor Eric lol

Anonymous asked:

I saw your Gidel and Fellow doodle on your twitter about the name change and I LOVE THAT SO MUCH cause I'm also thinking the same thing 🤣

"It's for our disguise Giddy!~" 🦊

Everyone calls him all sort of different names, Fellow said so himself (Episode 1-3) 😆

This bitch probably has done a lot of name changes for his con jobs n shit. (¬‿¬) 💚

(referring to this sketch from a 🔑twt acc, since it’s not for ko-fi and just a shitpost, here you go. He can’t even read the papers...)

Thank you Anon!! <3 Just like any other person I really hate that name change, but thinking about Fellow having lots of different names pacifies me a little bit lol Well, at least it makes me laugh and not want to break walls.

I wonder if Fellow has a guy that helps him out with fake ids… maybe his bosses make it easier for him these days; he probably used to go to various shady people before. But then again, they probably don’t always need to have papers… just come up with a name and go! Right, Ernesto? Good grief…

tardigrade-misfit asked:

Silver looks so adorable in his lil hoodie meanwhile Sebek looks like he only agreed to wear it because it was Malleus themed lol

(related to this post)

Thank you! Yeah, Silver is a cutie pie, as always lol Sebek should wear that hoodie with pride! He is closer to his beautiful waka-sama with those little horns on his hood.

I love these hoodies a lot; they are from that one drawing that Yana did of Diasomnia boys going to a movie theater. Katsu and I both are so obsessed with it; they look so adorable wearing those! I wish Yana did more sketches with characters hanging out like that, but of course I am grateful for everything she already does…

Anonymous asked:

I saw the latest comic about Gidel and Fellow Honest (I refuse to use the English names) on kofi and I think I have a proposition. I’ll be their sugar whatever but I get to touch their fuzzy ears now and again. Do you think they’d accept my terms?

Since we got this ask the same day we posted previously mentioned sketch (also a comic), I assumed you were referring to this one as well, but come to think about it we did have a Gidel and Fellow comic posted on ko-fi the other week…

Regardless! I think you absolutely should be their sugar whatever (… parent?), their sponsor and their financier lol Fellow will refuse at first, but it’s just because he is a bit prideful; maybe after some fuzzy ear touching he’ll reconsider. Keep petting the fox! The little cat will help you.

Anonymous asked:

I too used to hate all things girly when I was younger. Now I’m grown and like to wear kawaii clothes and will kick the asses of those who say otherwise (◕‿◕✿)

This is exactly what Vil would’ve wanted for you, Anon. And this is exactly what he wants for Epel. 💪😔

Anonymous asked:

Do you do any chesward here?

Nope! Sorry.

#replies #ryuichirouart

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imgeekgirlfan · 20 days ago

Text

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : XIII]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings : Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader) [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary : The last bloodline of House Atreides is about to reach its own conclusion. Both Yord and you understand what lies ahead and are ready to do whatever it takes to protect each other, even if it means one of you may have to sacrifice their life.

Status: just finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : Just one chapter left until the end, and I'm feeling sad to see that many have stopped reading my fic. It's been tough to stay motivated to continue, but I want to finish what I've started. I hope those who are still following along are enjoying the story. Thank you for sticking with me

Ps.If you enjoy my work, please reblog it. Just liking the post won’t help others discover it.

➡ Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 14 (Completed)

[Episodes 13] Here I am, here I remain.

"Run away with me."

You aren't particularly surprised to find Yord standing at your doorstep in the early evening; however, his sudden plea still manages to catch you off guard.

Yord is still panting, one hand gripping the doorframe tightly. His face glistens with sweat dripping from his forehead, a sign of how hard he must have pushed himself to rush here. His wide eyes looking at you reflect a whirlwind of emotions—anxiety, concern, and anger.

"You don't have to do this," Yord says, his voice serious as he continues when you remain silent. "Those plans are complete nonsense! How desperate do they have to be to drag you into such madness?"

Ah, so he knows everything, you think to yourself, assuming it was likely Jackie or Sol who told him.

The plan Yord refers to is Sol’s secret scheme, a final attempt after repeated failures to capture the new Sith Lord. It involves using you as both bait and a means to force Qimir into revealing himself.

Qimir is an unparalleled assassin known for his perfection, having never left any evidence or shown any vulnerability that could lead to his capture. The Jedi call him ‘The Stranger,’ a faceless phantom, an identity-less shadow. No one knows who he is, when he will appear, or who his next victim will be.

Until now, only you and Sol know about Qimir's past, but even that hasn’t helped solve the case. All records of his time as a Padawan were erased long ago, and Vernestra, who could have confirmed everything, is dead.

The final solution comes down to you. Your visions and the deep connection you share with Qimir are the only keys Sol believes can stop him.

You remember when Sol came to you personally to discuss the plan. You sensed the weight of his desperation and the pressure he was under to make this choice, despite the warnings you had already given him.

In your vision, Sol wasn’t even a match for Qimir. The chances of him throwing his life away in this plan were dangerously high.

Yet, despite knowing this, Sol remained determined.

"Perhaps this is the only way I can atone for what I did at Brendok," he told you in a calm voice, his eyes reflecting his weariness. "We all have sins to repay and fates we cannot escape. Let me face mine as a Jedi."

His words took root in your heart. You knew that fate wasn't just pursuing Sol—it was after you as well.

Your thoughts return to the present. You turn away, unable to meet Yord’s eyes. "It’s impossible," you finally reply, trying to keep your voice steady, but the words come out in a trembling whisper. "You're a Jedi Knight, Yord. You can't throw everything away for me."

"Fuck the Jedi and the Sith! They don’t even care if you live or die!"

You flinch. You’ve never seen Yord explode with such rage before.

Noticing your reaction, Yord realizes he's let his emotions spiral out of control. He wipes a hand over his face, taking a deep breath to calm the fury still simmering within.

“Please, I’m begging you... just come with me,” his tone softens, shifting from anger to a plea. “There’s still time for us to run. I’ll make sure no one finds you. You’ll be safe with me. I swear.”

Yord grips your hand tightly, and you can feel the tremor in his hold. The Bene Gesserit training tells you immediately what’s behind it—he’s afraid. But afraid of what?

“This has nothing to do with you, Yord,” you say, feeling a pang of sympathy but not knowing how to comfort him. “But I’ve seen clearly… it’s impossible.”

You know that facing Qimir again is inevitable. Even if you fled with Yord now, it would only delay the inevitable. Eventually, Qimir will find you, and this path would lead Yord to a cruel, tragic end—something you would never allow to happen to your only living relative.

“But I’ve seen it too!” Yord blurts, still refusing to accept your decision. “I dreamt of you... of your death, at his hands. I won’t let that happen.”

His words don’t surprise you. Instead, you offer him a soft smile. The bond inherited from Paul Atreides stirs within your heart, prompting you to instinctively caress his cheek with loving concern.

"You may have just seen it for the first time, but I've seen it a thousand times," you say, weariness lacing your voice.

You’ve seen every choice, every possible outcome, and every death of your own—both in dreams and while awake. It feels as if you’ve lived through countless deaths, and the fear you once held has long faded into numb acceptance.

This is the torment of one doomed to see everything—a suffering no ordinary person could ever understand or endure.

"But death isn't the only path," you continue. "There are still many futures that can be changed, even if just slightly. But even a slight change can make all the difference. That's why I have to follow this plan."

"Then I’m coming with you," Yord insists.

You study the determination in his eyes under the temple’s dim light, realizing just how serious he is. "Yord, I’m not sure if..."

“You can’t stop me,” he interrupts, cutting you off as if he already knows what you’re thinking. “If you won’t go with me, then I’ll go with you.”

You want to argue, but you choose silence instead. You don't want him to come, yet you know that trying to stop him would be futile. Yord will do anything to stay by your side, to make sure you’re safe from every danger—even if it costs him his life.

And deep down, you know you’d do the same for him.

In that moment, both of you feel an unbreakable bond woven from a shared consciousness through the memories of your ancestors. The sibling love between Paul and Alia from the past intermingles with your own memories, merging into a blood bond that binds you both to your very souls.

Every path of fate and coincidence has intertwined to lead to this moment, where the last remnants of the Atreides bloodline stand before each other, waiting to take the final step toward the end of everything, together.

You press your lips tightly, your heart trembling with emotions too complex to name. Finally, you throw yourself into his arms. “I love you,” you whisper before pulling away.

Your unexpected action catches Yord off guard. He looks at you in surprise, noticing the silent fear in your eyes—the fear you refuse to voice and the fear he chooses not to ask about.

"I love you too," Yord replies, entwining his fingers with yours. In that instant, he feels as if the past and future have collapsed into one, compressing and enveloping both of you. His mind suddenly understands, without the need for explanation, that fate has already changed its course.

And though Yord can’t see visions as clearly as you do, he can still feel it…

...feel that this might be the last time he will ever see your face.

Eiram

Most of this planet is covered by vast oceans, with only a few forests deep within the islands. Scattered remnants of past disasters still litter the landscape—derelict houses crumbled by violent storms, massive trees left in unnatural positions, and the decaying remains of the Starlight Beacon, now completely covered in moss.

The ship lands silently on the beach of a deserted island. The ocean stretches behind them, dense forest lies ahead. It is peaceful and beautiful—an ideal spot for a tourist destination. Yet, Yord can’t shake the unease that gripped him the moment they arrived. Something feels wrong, but he can’t put his finger on why.

Yord tells himself it’s just the stress of the mission, but deep down, he knows it’s more. He’s sure you sense it too—the worry on your face confirms it.

“Are you all right?” Yord asks, his voice full of concern as he notices you dabbing a handkerchief to your bleeding nose.

He’s only recently learned that this always happens when you use your visions. You’ve told him it’s the price of defying nature—that each time you dive into heightened awareness, you pay the toll with your body. Yord feels sympathy for you, but there’s nothing he can do. He doesn’t have the power you do, and he has no idea how to ease the pain you endure.

“Not great, but I’ll manage,” you reply, your voice unusually cold as you nod at him. “Let’s keep going. We have a lot to deal with.”

Your gaze is steady as you look toward the wild forest ahead, the place where you told the Jedi The Stranger was hiding.

At that moment, Yord doesn’t catch the underlying meaning in your words or actions.

He doesn’t realize... until after it has already happened.

Why?

This thought races in Yord’s mind during his final moments of consciousness. His body slumps against a tree, completely immobile. Pain radiates in his head and back, and his vision slowly darkens. Yet he can still see you clearly. You stand above him with an expressionless face, holding the stun blaster—the very one he gave you for protection. It’s the same weapon you just used to shoot him from behind.

He furrows his brow, desperately trying to understand what just happened. What mistake led him to this situation?

His recent memories flash back to when the Jedi group, led by Sol and Jackie, ventured into the forest on your guidance. Yord had chosen to stay behind with you, ensuring your safety in case anything went wrong.

But they had unknowingly walked into the trap of a Sith Lord. None of them had suspected they were being watched the entire time—until the attack came suddenly when a tall man in a dark cloak lunged at them with a red lightsaber in hand. Though the man’s face was concealed beneath a strange helmet, Yord had known immediately who he was—The Stranger, the Sith Lord they had been chasing all along.

The battle erupted in a chaotic frenzy. Yord quickly realized how skilled Qimir was. His skills were no less than a master's, perhaps even beyond that. Despite being attacked simultaneously by multiple Jedi, Qimir maintained his defense steadily without flinching, countering with swift and powerful strikes. The brilliant red beam cut through the air with deadly precision. He moved too fast for anyone to keep up, and one by one, the Jedi fell before him, as if killing Jedi was no more than a simple task for him.

Yord could only watch in horror. Fear gripped his heart as he tightened his hold on his own lightsaber. In all his years as a Jedi Knight, he had never faced an opponent this terrifying.

“Yord! Get her out of here! Master and I will handle him!"

Jackie's shout snapped Yord back to his senses. He quickly grabbed your hand, taking advantage of the chaos to escape immediately. He wasn’t even sure which direction the ship was in—all he knew was that he had to get you as far away from Qimir as possible.

A deep instinct told him that if Qimir reached you, something terrible would happen.

Yord stopped running when you suddenly pulled your hand away from his. At first, he thought you were just exhausted from running, but before he could turn to check on you, an immense force slammed into him. His body was thrown violently and crashed hard against a tree, the impact knocking the wind out of him.

And now, here he is—helpless, barely conscious, and fading fast.

His mind races, but no answers come. His blurry eyes focus on you, filled with confusion. Gathering the last bit of strength he can muster, he manages to ask, “Why?”

You slowly kneel before him. For a brief moment, Yord sees guilt in your eyes, but it quickly fades back into cold indifference.

“Because of love,” you answer him. "That's why I had to do this. Please forgive me."

Your voice sounds distant and faint. Yord wants to ask more, but the darkness spreads too quickly, swallowing him whole and completely overtaking his consciousness.

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