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stillness-in-green · 11 months

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On Heteromorphs and Heteromorphobia (Arc XIX - XXI-a, Star & Stripe to Final War-a)

Okay, so, I had intended to make one last post to cover through the hospital attack, but as my work week kept me very busy, the write-up on the hospital stuff itself is not finished yet. However, when I checked the word count on the S&S arc up through the end of what I had on the hospital--somewhat shorthanded notes on the first two chapters that would need considerable fleshing out, and bupkis on the second two chapters--I found it was already at seven thousand words, far over the four to five thousand mark I've been aiming for per post in this series. So, this week's somewhat shorter post covers from where we left off up through Chapter 369, the last chapter before the hospital material starts. Hit the jump!

The Star and Stripe Arc (Chapters 329-334)

Chapter 329:

AFO explicitly pins the blame for Spinner’s difficult life on his being a heteromorph and notes that many in the shadows empathize with his cause, leading to an explanation for the Spinner fanboys from 318: Spinner is becoming the face of a movement!

Much of this stirring up of heteromorphs around the country is being done by the remnants of the PLF, particularly Spinner’s PLF advisors, who have been putting up posters about Spinner being the voice of discontented and mistreated heteromorphs, posters that also suggest a coming reckoning in grand language steeped in cult mentality: gather soon, liberation, fruition, neutrality is a sin. (And not just Spinner! The line about neutrality being a sin is from a set of posters about the tragedy of Toga Himiko, picking back up the tack Curious had wanted to take in using Toga’s story to realize Liberation.[1] It’s unclear whether Spinner’s advisors are also putting up the Togaganda or whether that’s being handled by some of the other remnants we’ll see later.) The beauty of this is that once heteromorphs are stirred up enough, they’ll be gathering comrades and spreading the word of their own volition, even to those with no contact with the PLF. Of course, the people ultimately behind this are Skeptic and AFO, neither of them heteromorphs, and both with transparent ulterior motivations, though Skeptic at least is still holding to Re-Destro’s ideology of Liberation and likely does view the subsequent mob activity as helpful to heteromorphs themselves, as opposed to the mere means to his own end of becoming the Demon King AFO has in mind. [1] And which Skeptic had once scoffed at, feeling Toga a poorly suited choice for that sort of mythologizing. I wonder if he’s just gotten more desperate or if he’s acceded that Toga’s just fine for bringing about Liberation provided that it’s Liberation à la Shigaraki Tomura?

But how about Spinner himself? Well, he looks unconvinced, to say the least. More on this later, when he gets more context on what the reader is already seeing.

Chapter 333:

There’s one lone heteromorph outside of Agpar in Star’s crew. He’s not a very extreme one—tall but not inhumanly so, with a snouty facial structure and long, upward-pointing ears—but he is still the only heteromorph I’ve yet seen in the default masses of a uniformed group of military-types. Like, BNHA’s masses of riot squad type cops are all baseline, the guards at Tartarus were all baseline, the probably-JSDF guys in the movie are baseline, and so forth. These folks are often wearing helmets, of course, so there might be some minor divergences scattered amongst them, but there’s only so much divergence that a helmet and full-coverage uniform will hide! Odd skin tones, yes, unusual eyes, sure, but not protruding facial features or anything other than very small horns, and divergent body plans are right out.

The U.A. Traitor Arc (Chapters 335-342)

Chapter 335:

All Might very conspicuously omits Spinner from the list of threats facing the hero side. In the moment, it reads like All Might doesn’t view Spinner as a threat. And sure, why would one random, weak-quirked lizard guy constitute a threat worth mentioning, right? Later on, we’ll find out that the heroes were trying to keep Kurogiri’s location on the down-low, so this omission may simply be an effort to avoid having to discuss the target of the mob that’s brewing by not bringing up the mob to begin with.

While I assume that’s Horikoshi’s reasoning for this scene playing the way it does, I do think there are some questions raised by later chapters that imply that heroes are underestimating the situation quite severely. To wit, it’s already known that the obfuscation has failed and an attack on the hospital is coming—even someone as removed from villain goings-on as the Ordinary Woman had heard about it, news which she relayed to Shouji. I can’t believe that Hawks and company wouldn’t have intel to match that, if only via also learning of the attack from Josei-san. If the heroes already know the hospital assault is coming, though, why on earth is it so under-defended? They can’t possibly be running the risk that an attack set to be led by a member of the League of Villains (as they might presume to be the case thanks to all the posters everywhere!) would choose to target the hospital at random, or that it’s just some kind of generic protest that won’t be trying to breach the walls—surely they must know the mob is coming for Kurogiri? But then why such paltry numbers of defenders? I can only assume that the heroes badly, badly underestimated how deep heteromorphic anger and pain ran, and thus equally badly underestimated how many people would show up for the attack. All Might, being part of that central group of planners, is also one of the people being proven deeply ignorant about, and dismissive of, both the suffering endured and the danger presented by the heteromorphs he knows are coming.

Shouji immediately picks up on the omission and indirectly challenges it when he says, “It’s safe to assume the list goes on,” which All Might deflects with, “Yes. They will likely amass more allies,” still not talking about who those allies are going to be. May I say, then, that if there’s any extent to which All Might doesn’t want to talk about this because he doesn’t want to field questions about why a mob of civilian heteromorphs might choose to ally themselves with the League of Villains, it doesn’t reflect particularly well on him.

Chapter 341:

Skeptic gives us the line that ties together every single crowd scene demographic we’ve seen over the course of the entire manga:

My vindication, let me show you it.

There are a few subtly different ways you could read this, so I checked with my translator sis-in-law about her take on it. She said that what Skeptic’s implying here in the Japanese is that, taken as a whole, a telling proportion of criminals designated as “Villains” are heteromorphs. That is, by inference, heteromorphs are overrepresented in Villain-level criminality. So why might that be? Well, look back at everything I’ve said through this whole essay to date: o Discrimination runs rampant in this society, from minor microaggressions perpetrated by otherwise heroic characters all the way up through dedicated, violent hate groups. Those facing discrimination may have reduced opportunity, thereby pushing them into harder choices, which may make criminality more difficult to avoid. o Heteromorphs make up a larger proportion of the population in seedy, rougher areas, suggesting they’re probably lower income, proportionally, than non-heteromorphs. Lower income means the necessity of facing harder choices, as above. o The very nature of heteromorphism leading to the laws being applied to them more strictly—for example, if a heteromorph gets into a fist fight with an emitter, the heteromorph’s very body being a part of their quirk may make it more likely for them to be charged as Villains for illegal quirk use than the emitter. (Think of something like Mandalay not thinking of Spinner as having used his quirk during the training camp, but him being categorized as a villain regardless.) o Bias against heteromorphs leading to the laws being applied to them more strictly. If the person in charge of deciding how prosecutors are going to handle an accusation against you, and they just reflexively don’t like the look of your face, or are even openly heteromorphobic, of course you’re more likely to get treated like a Villain than someone a baseline prosecutor more readily sees the humanity in. This problem in particular will self-perpetuate—more heteromorphs being prosecuted as villains means more cops begin to perceive them as inherently more prone to villainy. Skeptic doesn’t say outright that criminals who are designated as Villains are more frequently heteromorphs compared to baseline types who committed equivalent crimes, but it sure is easy to read as an implication! After all, why else would he need to specify “Villain-designated criminals” as opposed to simply one or the other? If all he meant is that heteromorphs make up a larger demographic percentage of criminals and/or of Villains than they do a demographic percentage in the general population, he could just say that. It would still imply that there’s some unjust reason for that, but “villain-designated criminals” means that he’s suggesting that the numbers are out-of-whack specifically at that intersection, the place where “criminal” gets modified to “Villain.”

He goes on to say, “No matter how hard heroes and the government have tried to illuminate our society, the light can’t reach every dark corner. Plenty of heteromorphs hold deep grudges against the so-called heroes,” referencing ideas of light and illumination that will come up again in the hospital attack. Most literally, we could say this refers to rural discrimination, far away from the advanced, “integrated” cities, and the way heroes cluster around those urban areas because that’s where the money and fame are at. But I think it can cover my points above, as well—think back to the purse snatcher from the first chapter, who got run down by a whole passel of heroes and then paraded around in front of cameras in a muzzle, like an animal, for—stealing a purse. Called “pure evil” by Kamui Woods for—blocking traffic? Gosh, I wonder if that guy might hold a grudge against heroes?

Spinner articulates what he was almost certainly feeling back when AFO was first talking him up in 329: that he’s average dude, not some messiah, that he’s only here for Shigaraki, not to serve a great cause. Still, Skeptic says, the common people are waiting for him; he’ll be the one to pull a trigger Re-Destro no longer can. The very perception that he’s someone average, Just Another Heteromorph Like Us That Got Tired Of It, is what makes him such an inspiring figure.

Chapter 342:

All the students in the little montage bidding farewell to people at U.A. are those whose parents we’ve met, all also there in the scene, with one conspicuous exception: Shouji is talking to the Ordinary Woman, who is most certainly not any relative of his. I grow more annoyed by her lack of a name by the chapter.

This chapter features one of the manga’s starkest examples of the dehumanization of villains: Uraraka’s dialogue about how it had never even crossed her mind to consider Toga Himiko’s circumstances and beliefs. Toga is, of course, a seventeen-year-old girl, only a year and a half older than Uraraka herself, and one who first went on the run at fifteen. They’re so close in age, even met over the summer, yet Uraraka only realized—truly understood—that Toga was “a person too” when she saw Toga crying. Further, when confronted when this realization, Uraraka’s instinct is to try to quash it, to assume that even thinking this way makes her some kind of villain-apologist freak, so she has to banish those thoughts by going out and staring at scenes of immensely traumatic destruction to remind herself of what Toga had a hand in and thereby banish her human compassion. This is not framed as being about heteromorphs, but just last chapter, it was laid out for the reader in black and white that heteromorphs make up an outsized proportion of “Villain-designated criminals.” Thus, in turn, they’re proportionally more likely than any other group to be subject to the dehumanization faced by villains, and here we see just how extreme that social conditioning is even in a nice, empathetic, thoughtful girl like Uraraka.

The Final War Arc (Chapters 343-369, for now)

Chapter 345:

Geten’s #3, a heteromorph right on the border between resembling an animal and just being weird-shaped (if anything, he looks more like a heteromorph based on a Pokémon), calls the heroes Mammonists, a term referring to followers of Mammon, a personification of wealth/lust for wealth.[2] Professional Heroism as HeroAca’s Japan practices it is an inherently capitalistic endeavor. It’s wildly commercialized, rewards competition before cooperation, and dehumanizes the human assets that keep it going, hero and villain alike. Calling heroes Mammonists, therefore, echoes Stain’s accusations, and recalls Mount Lady’s grin way back in the first chapter when she stole the “kill” from Kamui Woods, all in the interest of fame, benefits, and government pay. [2] In the Japanese, haikin shugisha, literally “money-worshipper”; jisho even gives Mammonist as a direct translation. I want to reiterate a few points I’ve talked about before, as well as add a few new considerations, to get at what I think is telling about not!Greninja’s Mammonist accusation as it relates to heteromorphobia: o Mount Lady’s bonus chapter established that more rural areas see less heroism. This impacts heteromorphs like Shouji and Spinner both because there’s no one around who’s both willing and able to save them from the abuses they suffer[3] and because there are no heteromorphic heroes around to serve as role models. o Tomura’s Chapter 237 flashback established that rougher areas are slower to see hero agencies established in them—the men shortly to be murdered by Tenko complain about a bunch of new hero agencies being built in the area lately. That’s over a decade prior to canon, sure, but many long years more since the establishment of professional heroism! o I’ve demonstrated that higher concentrations of heteromorphs in an area can serve as a visual shorthand for it being a poorer, rougher place to live. o A hero’s ranking depends on incident resolution, public approval, and social contribution—all things that disadvantage those who work in rural areas. o Two characters in Class 1-A were admitted as “recommendation” students, i.e. those who can take smaller-group versions of the exams, as well as getting the benefit of an interview portion. Those two characters are Momo and Shouto—both baseline, both powerful, both wealthy. Does U.A. offer scholarships? Any financial aid for underprivileged students? Any programs to seek out promising youth who may not have the connections to get recommendations? Who knows! But, we sure do have a telling window on who gets small-batch exam privileges.[4] [3] Of course, if you take Vigilantes as canon, there’s no guarantee heroes would have helped them anyway—the people attacking them were doing so with pitchforks and pesticides, after all, not quirks. That firmly puts those attacks in the category of “not a hero’s job.” But let’s give Heroes enough benefit of the doubt to assume that even a pretty materialistic one would probably not have stood by while a crowd of adults attacked a ten-year-old with farming tools unless they themselves had already been raised to such violent heteromorphobia—which, if they’re content to be working in such rural areas, odds are they were. [4] This particular argument is, I admit, much weaker when you factor in Juzo, Tokage and Inasa, but if Horikoshi didn’t want to make some unfortunate implications about who benefits from the recommendation program, he shouldn’t have made 100% of the recommendation students in the Main Character Class baseline, powerful and wealthy.

Taken all together, it’s easy to understand why someone might accuse Heroes—especially Heroes who bust out the kind of exorbitantly expensive, last-minute constructs the heroes have just busted out—of being money-obsessed. Successful heroes live and die on commercialism, on public recognition, on their “brand,” and that structure keeps the money flowing—from the government to heroes, from civilians into the Hero industry, from heroes to the vast array of production companies supporting them on all fronts. The whole industry is a prayer wheel that turns on money. Now, Geten’s #3 is a pretty flashy dresser himself—those pinstripes!—so whenceforth this “Mammonist” accusation? Well, I would point out that he is a heteromorph, and reiterate the story’s frequent utilization of heteromorphs to visually communicate lower income brackets. Perhaps he himself has experience with poverty, even if he’s clearly doing better for himself these days. If so, then it’s very likely that the beef that drives his embrace of Liberation ideology is that the Hero System first criminalizes public quirk use for non-heroes and then monetarily disincentivizes getting help where it’s truly needed, all while pouring money into Heroics elsewhere like a busted oil tanker spewing crude into the Gulf.

Chapter 349:

Spinner is visually suspended between the desire to change the world he lives in and the desire to destroy “the warped imbalances (…) that we all just came to accept.” He embodies both—he’s someone who once resigned himself to his warped lot in life, who came to the League because he wanted so desperately to change, because he wanted to believe that change could be brought about by only a single man, and who fell in love with the promise of destruction. Hero Society never promised him either, so he came to the only people who could.

Chapter 353:

This chapter places Spinner firmly at Central Hospital, here to retrieve Kurogiri. The group he’s leading is entirely composed of heteromorphs, including two of his three PLF advisors; this, combined with the set-up about heteromorphs looking to him and Mezo “I want to feature him in the story” Shouji’s conspicuous presence, hints at what’s about to go down at this location.

Chapter 355:

AFO’s got a snappish “fowl duo” thought about Hawks and Tokoyami—just “two birds” in the Japanese, but still dismissal of them as animals.

Of the ones we can see, AFO has exactly one vestige with tiny little horns; every other one attacking him is baseline in their general appearance and build. Not exactly beating my heteromorphobic accusations there, big guy.

Chapter 358:

ShigAFO brings up appearance and form in his monologue about how the post-Advent world is a world beyond hope of a status quo, full of disparities that lead to a lack of understanding, and thence to fear and rejection. It touches on similar themes as Nedzu’s speech back in 323, but with an ultimately fatalistic bent.

Bakugou relates this all to Deku—their past relationship, as well as Deku being brought back to U.A.—but, as we will see, the arc’s got some heavier hitting stuff in mind for talking about disparities giving rise to fear and rejection.

Chapter 363:

Mirko’s gets another self-referential animal quip that only exists in Caleb Cook’s colorful localization. The line rendered as, “If only I’d been one hop faster!” only references being one step faster in Japanese.

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Next time, I will finally actually cover the hospital! Hopefully it will be in a week, but it's only half-written and is, I suspect, going to require a lot more editing to strike the right balance on discussing what I think is relevant and simply complaining about how egregiously bad it is as a resolution to this whole aspect of the worldbuilding. Followers who read my posts on those chapters will likely find my bitching familiar, but this is piece is bound for AO3 eventually, so it needs to be able to stand on its own without too much reference to other posts.

In any case, it should be up in one or two weeks, depending on how busy work keeps me.

On the topic of work, and with a number of new followers around, this is probably a good time for me to point out again that I'm in a pretty tight financial situation, so if you've been enjoying this series of posts and are of a mind to throw a few bucks my way, I do have a ko-fi you can use to do so!

Thanks for reading, all!

#bnha #bnha meta #bnha worldbuilding #heteromorph discrimination plot #iguchi shuuichi #bnha spinner #plf advisors #my writing

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octoberobserver · 10 months

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A Crew of Two - OFMD Fic

(Read on ao3 here)

“There. Perfect.”

They eyed the dilapidated shack, their focus homed in on the holey roof, shattered windows and cracked rafters.

“Well,” Stede turned to Ed, smiling small but hopeful. “It’s getting there.”

It had been a long evening of airing out the rooms, cleaning and dusting as best they could with their limited resources. Now nightfall approached, and the terrible stench still lingered but was nowhere near as foul.

“Right,” Stede nodded with determination, clapping his hands. “Dinner?”

Fishing was out of the question—obviously—but thankfully, Roach had not left them completely empty-handed.

“Marmalade,” Ed marvelled as they took a seat on the sand (using one of The Revenge’s old flags as a makeshift blanket) after a quiet walk up the beach, a good distance from their new home, the tide and Izzy’s resting place to build a small campfire.

“And tea,” Stede added, handing over one of the two China teacups he managed to pilfer from the ship. “Seven sugars, just as you like it.”

Something soft passed over Ed’s face at that, his large, dark eyes warming Stede far more than any embers. He could feel his gaze tracing his every movement as he poured the boiling water from where it was suspended in a pot atop the fire.

“We have enough fresh water to last us about three days, I reckon,” he murmured more to himself as he made his tea. “I took only the essentials from the kitchen.”

“Like tea leaves, sugar and marmalade?” Ed asked, munching on the slightly stale bread, his tone teasing.

Stede levelled him with a look.

“They are essentials, Edward.”

Ed chuckled at that, knocking their shoulders together.

“Right you are, mate. Right you are.”

They ate in more-than-companionable silence for several minutes, eyes cast out to the horizon as the moon glimmered in hello.

“We gonna talk about it, then?”

He glanced to his left, where Ed was still steadfastly staring at the ocean. He looked…radiant…the light of the fire reflecting off his face and casting shadows on the sand.

“Talk about what?”

He could be referring to a number of things, really. For all their making up—kisses in chaos, escaping the English, losing Izzy and saying goodbye to the crew—there hadn’t been much time for talking.

Ed seemed to ruminate on all that had transpired the last seventy-two hours, too, until finally, he turned his body to him and caught his eye.

Something uncomfortable unfurled in his gut, Ed’s haunting words from what felt like both years and mere hours ago echoing in his brain.

I think last night was a mistake. I’m not ready for whatever this is.

“If,” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and the ice in his chest. “If we’ve made a mis—”

“You left me. And then I left you. I think we need to talk about why. Properly this time.”

Stede froze, words dying on his lips as he watched a small furrow form between Ed’s eyebrows.

“Wait, what were you saying?” he asked, the furrowing deepening as he fidgeted with the teacup propped in his fingers. “Do you…do you think we made a mistake? Coming here?”

His voice sounded small and impossibly young. Almost as if it was his boyhood self asking and terrified of the answer.

Stede scrambled to put down his own cup, burrowing a little divet in the sand for it to sit into before grabbing Ed’s arm and squeezing.

“No, no, I don’t think we’ve made a mistake at all. I promise. I…I was worried you did. Like we were moving too fast again. Just like you said the morning after we…we…”

Ed copied him, carefully setting his cup down and covering his hand with his, squeezing back.

“No more whims, remember? I’m all in, Stede. For real, this time. This isn’t something I’m just jumping into without thinking. But there are still some things we should clear up.”

Stede nodded, though his stomach still churned, the turn in conversation and misly marmalade enough to make him feel nauseated.

“I left you,” Ed repeated on an exhale, gaze on their linked fingers. “And I’m sorry for that. But what we…the night we spent together, it wasn’t a mistake, Stede. I know I said it was, and I’m sorry for that too. But I was panicking. Because it wasn’t slow, definitely not slow, but I still wanted it. God, I wanted you, Stede. I want you. All the time. And I never want to make you feel like I don’t.”

Air punched out of Stede’s chest at that, heat rising from his abdomen all the way up to burn his cheeks.

“I…I want you too, Ed.”

Ed winked at him, eyes alight with mirth before his face fell into something a little more sombre.

“And I’m still working through everything. What—what happened, and how I acted. I spoke to the crew when you were in the kitchen. Apologised for my behaviour for real. Not the PR corporate bullshit from before.”

“Yeah,” Stede swept a thumb over the back of his hand. “Lucius told me.”

“Of course he did.”

Ed paused for a second, his breath hitching a little as if he were psyching himself up to say whatever it was he wanted to next.

“And I know you left me for Mary, but I can accept now that—”

“I didn’t.”

He felt it in his fingertips as Ed’s entire body tensed.

“What?”

“I didn’t leave you for Mary. Or at least not…not initially.”

Ed stared at his toes buried in the sand for a beat.

“What does that mean? You went back to your family—”

“Yes. I did,” Stede agreed hurriedly. “But the…the guilt was killing me, Ed. I let what Badminton said get to me—”

“Badminton? The sword through the eye guy? Or his dickhead brother?”

He blinked. A revelation washed over him like waves crashing against rocks.

“Oh, God. I-I never did tell you, did I?”

“Tell me what, Stede?”

The events of that night were a searing brand on his brain ever since they happened. He had tortured himself over and over for months, agonising over every single second and what he could and should have done differently. But it was only now occurring to him that he hadn’t actually told Ed, the one person who deserved to hear all of it the most.

“What happened that night…after we…after we kissed on the beach, and you told me to wait for your guy to come get me,” he began, a little shakily.

“And you left me waiting on the pier. All night,” Ed finished, his voice filled with hurt.

“Yes. I did do that,” Stede agreed, staring down at his hands in his lap. “But I never wanted to hurt you, Ed. I-I thought I was doing the right thing. I’m sorry.”

Ed’s frown deepened.

“How was breaking my heart doing the right—”

“He said I brought you to ruin!”

The words shot from him like a bullet from a musket, and before Stede knew it, he was on his feet, pacing back in front of the campfire, the love of his life, and the darkening sky with fervour.

“Badminton kidnapped me. Held me at gunpoint. Roused me from bed and brought me out to the—”

“He did what?!” Ed exclaimed, beginning to stand up, but Stede halted in front of him, preventing it.

“He said I was a monster, a plague, that I defile beautiful things. My family. You. And he…he was right. Or at–at least, I thought he was. So I…left.”

He didn’t realise his eyes were welling up until a tear slid down his cheek. Reaching up, he wiped at it with the back of his hand, staring down into the flickering flames.

“Y-You invoked the Act of Grace for me, Ed. Were prepared to serve under your enemies. You shaved your iconic beard and upended your whole life, your entire legacy for me. You were this renowned, respected pirate, a legend, a-and you gave it all–all—”

A sob broke free from his ribcage as he buried his face in his hands.

Suddenly, Ed was directly in front of him, taking his hands in his, kneeling at his feet and looking up at him with something like reverence etched onto his face.

“Stede,” he murmured, voice impossibly soft. “It’s okay. C’mon, let’s talk it through as a crew. A crew of two. You and me.”

Throat clogged with emotion, Stede forced a nod, even if he couldn’t quite meet his eye.

A strong, warm hand clasped his wrist, and fingers brushed against his pulse point.

“Ed,” he tried to protest. “Edward, your knee—”

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Ed cut across him, bringing his other hand up to interlink their fingers. “My knee is fine. Look at me. Please.”

With an almighty effort, he raised his eyes, meeting the large, dark ones he loved so much.

“You know that none of that is true, right? Never was, never will be.”

The sound of the waves was all that met that.

“Stede,” Ed implored, gaze wide and resolute as he shifted on his knees and squeezed his wrist. “It’s not true. Never was, never will be. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. You’re not a monster or a plague. You don’t defile beautiful things, you are beautiful. And you sure as fuck didn’t ruin me. You…you helped me find myself again, maybe for the first time, even. The time I’ve spent with you has been the best I’ve ever felt in my whole entire life. ‘Giving it all up’ for a life with you is the easiest, greatest decision I’ve ever made. Do you understand?”

Still, he couldn’t make a sound.

With a quiet sigh, Ed leaned ever so slightly forward until his forehead came to rest gently against Stede’s stomach.

“Life really did a number on you, didn’t it, babe?”

The words felt as warm and fond as they sounded, pressed against his rumpled shirt.

“L-Life’s a dick,” he finally managed to reply, tangling his fingers in his hair.

“Life is a dick,” Ed agreed, lifting his head and meeting his gaze. “But maybe…maybe with just us, it won’t be anymore?”

Stede brushed some hairs off Ed’s face, his heart already lighter.

“I would like that.”

Ed’s smile was as bright as the moonlight as he let his eyes close, seeming to enjoy the sensation of Stede’s hand in his hair. After a beat, he cleared his throat, his eyes blinking back open.

“So what happened then? How did you get away from Badminton?”

Stede’s stomach twisted as the garish memory flashed in his mind’s eye.

“He tripped. Fell. Shot himself in the head.”

Ed let out a slow breath.

“Holy shit…impaled through the eye, shot in the head...clumsy family, those Badmintons.”

“Yep.”

They stared at one another, deep and unwavering.

“I’m still sorry for letting it all get to me,” Stede mumbled, the guilt loosening in his chest with every syllable. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone on the pier. And I’m sorry it took me going back to my old life to realise just what I had with you. I-I didn’t even know I was in love with you until my ex-wife, of all people, explained what love feels like. That’s…that’s when I knew I had to find my way back to you, Ed. Because you’re it for me. I know that now. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Ed’s eyes had a glisten to them now. Shining like the stars.

“Stede…” he swallowed, his hands shaking. “I…I…”

“I know.”

A broken noise wrenched from his throat as a little gust of wind billowed along the beach, causing him to shiver, though Stede wasn’t sure if it was entirely caused by just the drop in temperature—the slight tug he had just given to his hair may have helped too.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to his forehead, murmuring, “Think it’s time we go home, love. I don’t want you to catch a cold. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Suddenly, with the speed of a man half his age, Ed was on his feet, grabbing him by the back of the head and crashing their mouths together in a feverish kiss. They stumbled with the sheer force of it, tumbling to the ground, Stede landing on his back and Ed on top of him, barely pausing for breath.

“I love you so much,” he muttered into his skin as he nipped along his jaw and down his neck. “Stede, you’ve no idea…no idea how much I…”

Stede groaned as Ed ground down against him, the feeling of his cock taking an interest in the proceedings evident through his ridiculous, sexy leather.

“I have a-an idea,” Stede half laughed, half whined at his ministrations, his deft fingers making quick work of his trousers, slipping them ever-so-slightly down, cupping a handful of his cheek and squeezing.

“Maybe an idea,” Ed conceded, nipping his earlobe as he trailed his hand along his skin, ghosting his fingers over the line of hair below his belly button, “but let me show you just how much anyway.”

With that, he reached down lower to grasp his cock, pumping him once, twice. Stede hissed, a bolt of arousal shooting through him, practically feeling all his blood flooding south.

“Hmm,” Ed mumbled almost to himself. “Too dry.”

Before another word could be uttered, he reached into a pocket with his free hand and produced a small vial of oil.

Stede just about managed to raise an eyebrow.

“What?” Ed asked, all faux-innocent. “You weren’t the only one who raided the kitchen for 'essentials.' I just had…other things on my mind than food.”

And wow, wasn’t Stede grateful for that.

“Can't do everything I'd like to now, fuckin’ sand gets everywhere, trust me,” Ed growled before clutching his hip and manoeuvring them back up onto the flag to continue his blissful torture. "But let's start here."

Stede spared exactly one second thinking about flag desecration until Ed did that wonderful thing with his wrist, and he stopped being able to think altogether.

“You…you,” he gasped as a now-slick, large, warm hand gripped him tight. “You too.”

He made an attempt to reach for Ed’s trousers but got distracted when Ed’s thumb swept over the head of his cock, rubbing at the beads of fluid there and causing his hips to buck as if struck by lightning.

“F-Fuck,” a high-pitched whine wrenched from him.

“That’s the idea, mate,” Ed chuckled as he rucked up his shirt and kissed down his chest, tongue lapping at his nipples, swirling and sucking with reckless abandon.

Stede flung his head back, it connecting with a loud thump into the sand as he stared up into the twinkling night sky.

“Y-Yes, Ed. S-So good.”

Ed seemed to preen at that, pleased as punch, his hands now working on pulling his trousers completely off, to limited success as in his excitement, he seemed to want to do just about everything all at once. His tongue continued mapping a route down Stede’s body, edging closer and closer to where he ached for it, but it never reached its destination as Stede hooked his leg over his hip and flipped them with an agility that frankly shocked them both.

“Oof!”

A winded gasp escaped Ed, but before he could catch his breath, Stede hovered above him, drinking in the absolutely enthralling picture he made, all flushed and windswept and wide-eyed.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun…mate,” he teased, capturing his lips again, tracing his tongue along his bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth.

As he licked behind Ed’s teeth, his hand fumbled to pick up the dropped vial of oil from the sand, popping the cork as he took a seat in his lap. He could feel Ed’s erection trapped beneath him, hard and hot, as he ground down—flesh meeting leather. It made him feel bold. Brave. Confident in a way he never thought he could be. Here he had Ed Blackbeard Teach at his mercy in the best way, in a way they both wanted, both took pleasure in, and it felt…life-changing.

Dragging his mouth away from Ed’s with herculean effort, he helped him take off his again, very sexy, but again, very ridiculous trousers, haphazardly dragging them down his calves one-handed. Chuckling at the not-so-simple feat, he set about sloppily coating his fingers with the oil, fumbling more than once. He grinned at Ed’s whimper of impatience before letting the vial drop and finally getting his fingers wrapped around him, gripping him tightly and bucking up against him so their slick, flushed cocks slid together.

“S-Shit, Stede.”

This wasn’t like their first time, which was fraught with we-nearly-died-and-I-just-killed-someone energy. This wasn’t fireworks exploding, a desperate culmination of yearning, aching for one another, a frenzied, unpracticed exploration of two emotionally fragile people after a traumatic event. This wasn’t opening night, this was…the encore. Less frayed with raw, mixed emotions and more like being welcomed home after a long journey away. But still as exhilarating. And just as with last time, it had more than a sprinkling of unabashed horniness and a frankly disgusting amount of love too.

“Fuck, f-fuck,” Ed moaned as Stede’s fist gripped them both, pumping them fast and rough, his stomach swooping as strong hands clasped his hips, rocking him back and forth.

“T-That’s the idea,” he parroted back, though it lost its cheeky edge with breathlessness.

He wasn’t going to last long. He could already feel the telltale sign of his impending orgasm building within him. Ed had that effect on him, like an overexcited teenager bursting with unbridled lust at the slightest provocation.

He bit his lip as he felt thumbs dig into his tailbone, ghosting over the dimples there, helping them grind harder together.

“Y-Yes, Stede, faster…tighter…” Ed’s little tufts of breath floated into the air as his back arched, meeting his thrusts, his eyes rolling back into his skull.

Pleased at his response, Stede happily did as he was told, speeding up and tightening his grip, brushing his thumb over the head of his leaking cock and causing Ed to cry out, his legs beginning to shake.

“You…you were waiting for me,” he gasped almost to himself, looking up at him with something a lot like awe. “You were squeezing my hand when I came back to the land of the living.”

Stede reached down with his free hand and clutched his fingers now for good measure, pressing them into the sand.

“You were squeezing back,” he reminded him.

“I-I was,” Ed agreed, his whole body tensing up, his breaths shallow and fast. “I…I was reaching out for y—fuck, fuck, Stede!”

A sharp heat sparked in Stede’s gut as Ed’s release coated his fingers and cock, his whole body taut like a bowstring at the illicit sight, so close to his own climax he could practically taste it.

As if sensing this, though still dazed and likely oversensitive, Ed took exactly one deep breath before he reached up and closed his fist around Stede’s, helping him reach his peak with frantic, jerking movements until his own orgasm washed through him like a tidal wave mere moments later.

“Oh, g-god, Ed,” a broken whine ripped from his throat as he collapsed like a marionette with cut strings on top of him, wincing a little at the rapidly drying wetness between them.

They both fought to catch their breaths beside the dying campfire, smoldering embers casting a dim glow about them.

“Well,” Stede grinned, meeting Ed’s eye. “That was a pleasant surprise.”

“There’s more where that came from,” Ed winked, taking the vial from him and holding it like his greatest treasure as another shiver ran through him.

“Come here,” Stede rearranged them side by side, Ed’s back to the fire, pulling him into his chest. “I’ll warm you up.”

A wounded sound broke from Ed as he huddled into him, muttering something into his collarbone.

Stede tilted his head.

“Come again?”

“Give me a minute, mate, I’m not fifteen anymore.”

He let out a snort of laughter, placing a kiss in his hair.

“No, silly, I meant, what did you say? I missed it.”

“Oh.”

Ed buried his face deeper into his neck, hot breath bouncing off his skin and making him squirm in the best way. He seemed to think over what he wanted to say, and Stede waited patiently until…

“You reminded me of something Hornigold said in the gravy basket.”

Stede tensed a little, the memory of the man he loved lying dead in front of him still haunting.

“He asked me what I liked most about living.”

Stede blinked, not expecting that.

“Oh? And what did you say.”

Ed shifted again, his face still hidden but his voice strong.

“Warmth. Good food. Orgasms.”

Stede let that sink in, seeing their merit.

“Solid choices.”

“Yeah,” Ed agreed, planting a kiss on his neck. “And you just provided all three.”

Something gooey pooled into Stede’s stomach, a pleased smile spreading across his face.

“Well, I’m happy to be of service.”

That caused Ed to look up, lifting his head to meet his gaze, eyes serious and warm.

“You’re not ‘serving’ me, Stede. You’re…my equal. We’re partners. You’re…you’re my…”

“Co-Captain?”

“Yeah,” Ed agreed, nodding with determination. “Co-Captain. Of our Inn. And…and of our lives.”

Stede’s heart skipped a beat. Our lives. It sounded so…right.

“Co-Captains. A crew of two. I love that.”

“Me too.”

They sealed it with a kiss, chaste and sweet, more a pressing of smiles than anything.

“Come on,” Stede urged, still clutching Ed’s hand. “Let's get you inside so I can warm you up all over again.”

That same soft something tinged Ed’s face as he squeezed his hand back.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

#our flag means death #ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #my fanfiction #post season 2

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alex-anon · 3 years

Text

I usually don't do this two days in a row (so close to the semesters finals no less) but I swear if I have back cramps tomorrow I'm just not going to school, it's for the best today I was about to pass out even with medication.

#ughhhh #literally I have theator finalls and I hate to leave my team but I reckon D would understand and the teacher #(If I send him a message) will understand #hes nice like that #amd I'll have two more days to block then like a day of work shop then back to vlocking for like two-three days then we present #and play to god the story's good enough for the teacher #I reckon we just need to get the shadow movements right #its literally hell and I hope they dont change anything story wise because I'll be so fucking far behind #but I guess its fine because since its like semester finals we haave no test these next three weeks #so I have friday to get cough up on everything #still hoping craps be gone tomorrow though #I'm honestly scared to ask my mom to just not gi to school again since I left third period #I reckon its fine I havent missed a day i. like two months #UGHH WAIT I HAVE A DENTIST APPOINTMENT NEXT WEEK OH MY GOD NO #I CANT BE MISSING MORE DAYS WE GOTTA FINISH BLOCKING #UGHHHHH #its fine #im fine #its for my well being anyway #literally thoigh #its fine I'll go with craps aslong as they arent too painfull

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unicyclehippo · 2 years

Note

If you’re still doing imodna prompts - scratch. :)

ashton isn’t the first to notice the way laudna never lets herself alone with FCG but he is the only one who’ll do shit about it, sick to death of interrupting long, sorrowful gazes that have a tendency to slip sidelong into loathing. so when FCG announces that he needs a tune-up, and that joe had reached out with some information on the ruin-delver who brought him into basuras, ashton says,

‘i have some people to visit today, can’t go with you. but there’s no fucking way you’re going alone.’

‘oh!’ FCG brightens, little head tilting, curious. ‘who’re you visitin’?’

‘people. you don’t know ‘em.’

‘well, alright! that’s fantastic, ashton! it’s so important for people to engage socially, and it’s great to see that you’re willing to practice that!’ if it were anyone else, ashton would thump them for insinuating, however correctly, that he’s shit at talking, but FCG’s voice is earnest, bright as his copper plates.

‘they’re right, though,’ orym agrees. ‘you shouldn’t go to joe’s alone.’ he meets ashton’s eyes, lifts his brows.

ashton glances casually at laudna.

‘i was planning on scouting the seat of-‘

‘dis taint?’

orym rolls his eyes. ‘just for that, you’re coming with me,’ he says. imogen just smiles and doesn’t argue.

off to the side - she’s always off the side now, lurking in the periphery of their group the sad, sodden witch - laudna’s liquid black eyes widen, fixed on imogen and orym, waiting for an invitation, some sign that she’s welcome to go with them. ashton would feel bad about the manoeuvring, about maybe distressing laudna, but she’s already distressed. imogen doesn’t look her way—another thing to fix, he wonders, or silently helping his plan? she could have skimmed it off his brain the second it sparked to life, he has no fucking clue how that shit works. still, she says nothing, and ashton speaks in her stead, calls over to their friend,

‘hey laudna!’ she jumps and he fights the urge to soften up. she’s gotta know he’s not scared of her. she’s gotta know she doesn’t have to be scared of them. ‘you good to go with fcg? they’ll all wanna pick him apart on sight, fucking vultures, but you’re scary enough to keep ‘em back, i reckon.’

laudna shrinks back into the little shadow she’s found—or made, maybe, since it’s almost noon and the sun is blazing down direct on their head. ‘i—perhaps chetney,’

‘sure,’ the wolf man agrees. he swallows a yelp when ashton kicks him in the ankle. ‘sure-ly not, is what i meant to say, words got stuck. all this dust, so thirsty.’

‘you’re thirsty?’ fearne widens her eyes over at the old gnome.

chetney fakes a cough. ‘parched. ‘fraid i won’t be any help in this - ah - this heat,’ he tells them all, dramatic bitch, and winces up at the sun, lifting a hand to cover his eyes like he could swoon at any second. ‘i need to lay low. say, in a bar?‘

‘what a good idea,’ fearne agrees breezily. ‘we can drink near the - what are they called? paragon’s call. make some friends,’ she says with a coy smile that has orym on the alert. it’s a total coin toss whether or not she’s picked up on ashton’s plan or whether she’s playing a fun little game of her own.

‘i like it!’ chetney says, dropping his fainting act for his usual suspicious intensity. ‘someone’s gotta get on the level of our -‘ he lowers his voice, scans the crowd, ‘- our enemies. you and me, sneak into one of their bars. keep an ear out for their,’ he spins his chisel masterfully in his palm, sheathed it in a smooth motion, ‘movements.’

‘bowel movements.’

‘sure,’ he shrugs.

‘suspicious movements.’

‘definitely.’

‘and i could do with some milk.’

‘if you want milk, that’s what you get,’ chetney insists, somewhere between smitten and ferocious.

‘anyway,’ ashton drawls. ‘looks like it’s just you and FCG,’ he says, and scratches at his cheek to hide a grin when laudna looks about at everyone like she’s trying to figure out how that happened.

‘of - of course, yes, you certainly shouldn’t go alone. if, if that’s alright with you, of course, fresh cut grass?’

‘sure! it’ll be an adventure!’

#cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #not rly but just in case #tagging my stories #prompt fill #this was actually supposed to be a mainly laudna talking with fcg prompt but I have a meeting alas #maybe I’ll do that next

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lemons3ason · 4 years

Text

HOW THE VINSMOKE BROTHERS REACT TO LOSING THEIR S/O BECAUSE OF THEIR FATHER!

Warning: Mad Angst, Lowkey long I got kinda a little to into these scenarios, mentions of death and torture, I cried and lowkey need to make a part two for fluff TT-TT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ichiji Vinsmoke

You were missing from bed this morning, of course Ichiji was curious of it since you were practically 8 months pregnant but he thought you were just back in the kitchen cooking with Cosette again. You were a chef for the Germa Kingdom, the only reason he had met you was because Niji had thrown a plate of food at Cosette and you shielded her from it before striking Niji in a nerve and knocking him unconscious for over 36 hours. Since that day Ichiji had claimed you as his, his cute firecracker, and yet for some reason you were never enough for his father. You made his son human, which in turn made him weak, sooner or later you would’ve had to be dealt with. Judge had summoned him to the throne room to speak with him alone, with his shadow casting over the young red haired man he spoke with a cold heartless tone, “(Y/n) has been executed. She was taken down to the dungeons before daybreak, so you won’t find her.”, he turned to his son to make sure he emphasized his point, “She wasn’t good enough for you anyways.”

Ichiji felt his heart shatter, something he once never had, and felt his lips quiver at the news. Nothing held him back, so why?! Why didn’t he just kill his father where he stood! Judge had sent you to the dungeons to be executed, all because he deemed you unworthy of the Vinsmoke name. Ichiji’s fist ignited into flames as his rage boiled in his blood. He was always cold and collected but right at this moment he was afraid! Afraid and enraged, Ichiji left his father alone and stormed down to the dungeons. Memories of his days tormenting Sanji replayed in his mind causing his stomach to churn. The dungeons were for the weak, only the strong could laugh from the other side of the bars and unfortunately you were just a weak powerless human compared to the monsters that lived right by your side.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n) answer me! Answer me right now!”, Ichiji’s voice roared through the cold dark cells of the dungeon.

Soldiers in charge of the chambers emerged attempting to calm their leader but their skulls simply met the hard brick walls as he punched them. Flames flickered from his fists and feet with each of his movements, even without his raid suit Ichiji was a force to be reckoned with.

“(Y/n)!”, his screams were desperate at this point, his emotional heart couldn’t handle the stress of the situation anymore.

Then he saw it, in pure disbelief he threw his glasses to the side taking in the pale lifeless battered body that laid before his eyes. Everything stopped, y-you were gone. He was to late. Ichiji didn’t want to believe it not now, not ever, he raced to your side scooping your cold form into his arm and holding you tight almost mistaking his own body heat as yours in broken hope that you were still alive. He was heartbroken, as he stared down at your beautiful sleeping face his vision became blurry. He had lost it, he lost you, tears and screams of agony poured out of Ichiji’s body. He couldn’t handle this, not (Y/n), not you of all people. His wails became louder so much so that his siblings could hear him, even Judge who stared out over the sea with no regret to his decision could hear the heartbroken wails of his precious son. Ichiji’s raw emotions triggered his powers, his tears evaporated from the intense heat his body produced and like an inferno eating at a dry field his flames engulfed the dungeons setting fire to half of the Germa Kingdom. Even as your body seared to ash in his arms he held onto you desperately his wails becoming noiseless gasps until his brothers pulled him out of the flames and away from your ashes.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!!!!!”, He screamed fighting against his brothers strength as soldiers rushed in to put out the flames.

Even if he showed weakness because of his heart Ichiji mourned your death, he couldn’t handle it anymore because every little thing reminded him of you. For a whole week he had locked himself in your old quarters and he wouldn’t budge...not until Reiju appeared with the only thing that would pull him out of mourning. She kicked the door open holding something small in her arms and sighed seeing her brother collapsed by your bedside.

“She’s gone Ichiji, get over it.”, Reiju growled.

“How do you expect me to do that? Tell me Reiju! Every woman I’ve ever seen was merely a toy of amusement for me until I met her! She reminded me what it meant to be human, how do you expect me to get over her!”, the red haired male growled grabbing his sister by the fabric collar until a soft cry caught his attention.

The sudden rough movement had awaken the slumbering (h/c) haired baby that rested in Reiju’s arms. Ichiji’s body trembled from shock and he once again collapsed to his knees. Reiju smiled and kneeled down in front of her younger brother carefully placing his child in his arms, “(Y/n) fought till the very end, I noticed them take her down to the dungeon and the stress from them beating her drove her body into labor. Father’s word was absolute to kill her but nothing was said about the baby. All she asked was that I took her.”, Reiju sighed tears of regret falling from her blue eyes.

This little baby girl, with Ichiji’s curly little eyebrows, and your sweet eyes, was all he had left of you and he wouldn’t let his father take her from him like he took you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Niji Vinsmoke

That night you hadn’t returned to bed, after a heated argument about his cruel behavior towards the staff of the ship you had left Niji alone in his quarters. The young prince waited impatiently for you to return but after midnight struck the clock he decided that it would be best to go find you instead. It wasn’t your first fight but truly he let himself go, he said things that he regretted and sucking it up and apologizing to you only seemed fair. He called your name loudly, not caring about the others and their sleep since he needed to find you quickly.

“(Y/n)? Hey little brat come on, it’s late we can continue this argument tomorrow just come to bed.”, he sighed running his fingers through his blue hair in frustration.

He noticed several guards talking amongst themselves and decided to question them on your whereabouts. All the soldiers froze up once they felt the intense anger radiating off of their general, they quickly stood at attention greeting Niji as he glared down at all of them. He noticed your necklace hanging out of one of their pockets and quickly snatched it back as he began to interrogate the soldier.

“Where the hell did you get this? A piece of gravel like you shouldn’t have been able to get this close to (Y/n) in order to take it. Where did you get this?”, Niji growled electricity discharged from his body with each passing second.

The soldier stumbled over his words trembling in fear as he looked death in the face, “I-I’m sorry sir! I-I found it in the dungeons it’s from the most recent kill. I-I didn’t know this b-belonged to Ms. (L/n)!”, the soldier squeaked in fear as Niji’s electricity made all the lights in the hall pop, his body glowed a dim blue in the dark corridor as he stormed down to the dungeons. Something didn’t feel right, for once an unsettling itch was making Niji nervous. Why would you be in the dungeons of all places? His steps echoed the farther down he went, but the eerie silence of the dungeons made his stomach ache. Something wasn’t right.

“(Y/n)? Hey brat, where are you? Come on this is enough, it’s not funny, (Y/n)!”, Niji yelled, his voice broke as he called your name, “(Y/n), come on I’m sorry! I don’t hate you, I love you so come back.”

For the first time ever fear was coursing through his blood and he didn’t know what to do. Every call of your name drove him crazy, you didn’t respond no matter how loud he got. He searched every sell desperately for you but he couldn’t find a thing, he was clueless on your whereabouts until one of the many prisoners in the dungeons spoke up.

“Niji?”, the old man called quickly grabbing the young prince’s attention.

“Who the hell do you think your calli-“

“That’s the name the young lady was calling when they were beating her. Niji, at the top of her lungs, it was painful to have to hear her.”, the old man sighed tears falling from his eyes.

Niji’s arms reached for his tattered clothes slamming him against the bars as he demanded answers, “What girl? Where did they take her?”

“T-this young lady with short (h/c) hair. They took her to the torture chamber just down the hall!”

“Her hair wasn’t short! Liar!”, Niji growled.

“I-It was! Lord Judge cut her hair with his spear to show her how little she meant to the family. Then ordered her execution, I haven’t heard her voice for the last three hours.”, the man admitted crying in fear of being punished.

Niji released the man and ran as quickly as he could to the chambers, but the pool of blood was enough for him to understand your fate. He stared down at the pool in defeat and fell to his knees as his vision became blurry. Bloodied whips and clubs littered the floor but Niji couldn’t see a thing, he screamed in anguish to the situation. His heart couldn’t take this, his head was splitting to the very thought of your death. His sadness quickly turned into rage, it’s was his fault, his father was the cause of all of this! Using his powers he appeared in his father’s room in a mere matter of seconds, his electricity burning hotter then ever before.

“WHERE IS MY (Y/N)?!”, Niji roared ripping his goggles off so he could see his father properly.

Judge, completely unamused by his favorite son’s outburst, simply scoffed and returned to his paperwork. Having been ignore Niji slammed his fist into Judge’s desk scattering and burning the papers throughout the room. He glared up at his father and repeated his question, “Where is my (Y/n)?”

“Tossed out to sea, it’s not like she was alive anymore. By now she’s being digested by some stray seaking that found her battered corpse.”, Judge sighed in frustration, “It’s not like I would’ve considered someone like her eligible to be your wife. A prince shouldn’t bother with a mere nameless slave.”

Niji was heartbroken, tears that had been ready to fall from his eyes from the past 20 years had finally started to fall. He couldn’t see, not even an inch in front of him as he grieved your death. He was to late, he fought with you and made you leave and when you needed him most he wasn’t there for you.

“It was pathetic how desperately she called your name, she was to reliant on you, it made the torture so much easier when she finally gave up. Hopefully the next woman you fall in love with is more suitable to be a Vinsmoke.”, Judge sighed lifting his son by his collar and throwing him out of his room.

Niji was forced to stumble back to his room, no matter how much he called you you never returned to his side. You were gone, all because he was to late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji Vinsmoke

“What happened to her? (Y/n)!”, Sanji yelled caressing your face as you slept.

Your body was covered in bruises and cuts from your recent fight with Niji, you had snuck onto the Germa ships to find Sanji and drag him back but unfortunately you had ran into one of his monster brothers. Reiju had stopped her beastly brother from killing you but you presence on the ship didn’t go unnoticed, Judge was now aware of you and he wasn’t happy. Reiju allowed you to stay in her room with Sanji but Judge had other plans for you.

“(Y/n) you idiot. You should’ve stayed with the others back on the Sunny.”, Sanji sighed holding your hand in his, you woke up seeing him softly kiss your knuckles.

“Takes an idiot to know one. Come back stupid, I miss you.”, you sighed turning to him.

Sanji frowned at you but he couldn’t help but smile seeing you awake. You were such a handful, always had been and always would be but that’s what he loved about you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead making you smile but once again you both forgot that you were prisoners to the family. Sanji carried you back to his room and kept you there by his side, you both softly whispered to each other declaring your love like children. Having you in his arms again made Sanji forget about his worries, all he needed was you and that’s all he wanted. Eventually sleep claimed you both but you both slept comfortably together sharing dreams that a promising future would hold. The next day Sanji was forced to meet Big Mom. He hoped that you’d be left alone in his quarters but hope was for fools, while he was gone one of the soldier’s had slipped a sleeping drug into your food and dragged you down to the dungeons.

“(Y/n), I’m back. Have you eaten I’ll make yo-(Y/n)? (Y/n)?!”, Sanji’s blood ran cold seeing you missing, you couldn’t move around with your injuries which meant someone had taken you. He raced through the halls of the ship searching for you desperately, not one soldier told him where you were but a feeling in his chest told him exactly where you were. His legs carried him to the dungeon chambers but he found himself unable to even open the door. Memories of the caged abuse he went through drove a cold sweat through his body, but he had to save you. He swallowed his fears and opened the door but his fears were realized when he heard your voice scream his name. He hurried, he rushed, as quickly as he could but he was seconds to late. With his father looming over your battered body Sanji was forced to watch the spear pierce through your back,

“S-sanji.”, you cried as the injury killed you instantly, your outstretched hand fell to the ground as you passed away.

“Why failures stick together I will never know, but at least there’s one less of you vermin.”, Judge growled pulling his spear from your corpse as he turned around to see his mortified son, “It’ll teach you better then to let fools get in the way of my goals.”

He simply scoffed at him and walked back up the stairs while Sanji fell to his knees just inches away from your body. “(Y-y/n)...(y/n).”, Sanji croaked holding the hand that you had been reaching for him with.

“(Y/n)!”, he screamed to no one in the cold depressing dungeon as he pulled your body towards his chest to hold you.

He sobbed into your hair, crying until his voice ran dry. Sanji couldn’t accept this, “Not like this, p-please not like this. Not her!”, he begged staring down at your bruised face that still looked like a beautiful Angel in his eyes.

“(Y/n) please don’t leave me. Not like this my dear.”, he whimpered pressing his forehead against yours.

This dungeon had caused him so much pain and now it was the place that had taken you from him. Why did life have to hate him so much? To be married off to a stranger, to be taken from his crew, and worst of all to lose the only woman he had wanted to marry. His family brought him nothing but agony, he cried until exhaustion forced him to sleep. Reiju was ordered to fetch him for dinner but the sight of her younger brother asleep against the wall while holding your dead corpse was enough to move her to tears. He truly did love you but now you were gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yonji Vinsmoke

From the start Yonji knew that his father hated your existence, but Yonji just couldn’t help it. He had fallen for you, the way his name rolled of your tongue and past your sweet soft lips made him crave your presence. The way you reached your small hands up to him to hold his face in your hands made his heart face, but your eyes, your beautiful passionate shimmering eyes made him fall head over heels for you. Even when he was disrespectful towards others Yonji would always keep an eye on you smiling when he saw you doing the simplest of tasks. The prince that loved a peasant what a cliche love story. Even if he was a genetically modified human in your eyes he was just him, and you were just the perfect normal little human girl.

“Prince Yonji I made cookies today. Would you lik-oh heehee.”, you giggled watching Yonji eat the cookie from your fingers.

His crumb covered lips pressed against your cheek making you smile, but your soft moment together was spoiled by the all to familiar scoff of Lord Judge. The tall giant glared down at you while you sheepishly smiled up and greeted him, Yonji scowled at his Father’s glare and wrapped his arm around your waist protectively.

“Keep moving old man.”, he growled much to Judge’s disgust.

Cosette called you back to the kitchen, you excused yourself hesitating to give Yonji a kiss in front of his father but the green haired man wouldn’t let you leave without a proper kiss. As soon as he got his kiss he let you go, your face flushed red and smiling as you returned to your duties.

“Why you bother with a failure like her irritates me, you deserve a princess not a dirty servant Yonji.”, Judge growled down to his youngest son.

Yonji scoffed in annoyance to his father and simply walked away leaving his father to his own complaints. Judge decided that if you were the one his son wanted then he’d modify you so that you were actually useful to the family. Every night you would come to find Yonji and kiss him goodnight, it was a ritual that he became dependent on but tonight you didn’t show up. Far past midnight sleep was finally beginning to take over his body but he tried to stay awake hoping that you’d just been busy with chores. He woke up angry the next day because of your absence and went to search for you to give you a piece of his mind but no one had seen you. You always presented yourself to work even if you were exhausted or sick meaning something had happened to you. Yonji growled under his breath knowing that his father had something to do with it. One of the doctors appeared before him asking for his presence in the dungeon chambers, Yonji didn’t want to bother with it but his father was waiting for him. Just entering the room he could hear torturous screams resonating from down below, his father must’ve been furious.

“What do you want old man?”

His father simply pointed into one of the screaming cages and smiled, “Now she’s worthy of you. A soldier ready to give her life for you.”, he chuckled.

That’s when Yonji saw it, his eyes widened in shock seeing your blood stained body killing a prisoner. You held the knife above your head ready to kill them but Yonji’s hand caught your wrist as he called your name. You responded but the look in your eyes was enough to tell him what had happened. Cold, lifeless, dead (e/c) eyes, looked into his there was no spark in them anymore.

“What did you do to her!?”, Yonji growled sending his mechanical arm right to his fathers face.

Judge was unimpressed by his son’s rage and pushed his hand away, “Simply made her worthy of you. An annoying woman like her wasn’t fit to be a love interest for one of my precious sons but with her genetic enhancements now she is. Surprisingly she was able to stay sane for about 7 hours before the electrical charges finally fried what little brain cells she had. The only sacrifice was her mental sanity, her emotions, and her heart. She’s the perfect little puppet now.”

Yonji’s face dropped to the news of your torture, he turned to your frozen form and kiss your lips hoping that you’d react, hoping that it wasn’t true but nothing happened. Your cheeks didn’t heat up, your eyes didn’t sparkle with love, you didn’t call his name sweetly, he lost you.

“REVERSE IT! REVERSE THE EFFECTS RIGHT NOW!”, Yonji ordered holding your head softly in his hands.

“She’d really die this time, if we bothered trying. This is how she stays if you want her by your side, once you’re tired of her dispose of her. She’s no longer human she’s just an empty shell.”

Yonji couldn’t believe it, he held you calling your name over and over until you responded but you never did. You never made a noise you were just silent. “N-no...(Y/n)...n-not like this. Please not like this come back to me.”, Yonji pleaded through his tears but from then on it would never be the same.

#x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #vinsmoke yonji #vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #Niji x reader #Yonji x reader #ichiji x reader #angst

539 notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

Text

All Men Have Limits - II

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 4,300+

Previously on...

When Y/N arrived at the master bedroom, she was surprised to find the door slightly ajar. She knocked always and found Bruce turning to face her, shirtless and only in his boxer briefs.

Bruce seemed subtly surprised to find Y/N standing in his doorway and not Alfred. But he didn’t seem to be embarrassed by the state Y/N found him in.��

Along with the first aid kit, Y/N had grabbed two ice packs from the freezer.

“I’m fine,” Bruce told her before she could even offer to help him.

“You can either deal with me or you can deal with Alfred,” she threatened.

“Your choice,” she added when she saw how serious he took her warning.

Bruce’s heavy sigh was the only answer she’d get.

“Come on,” Y/N nudged her head toward his en-suite bathroom that was probably twice the size of most people’s studio apartments.

She pointed to one of the steps that led up to the giant bathtub, silently instructing him to sit.

“Put these on your ribs,” Y/N instructed as she handed him the ice packs.

To her surprise, Bruce did as she asked.

“I don’t need stitches,” he mumbled as he watched her open the first aid kit.

“I know,” she answered. “Which is lucky for you, because I have no idea how to stitch people up.”

She dabbed some cotton in hydrogen peroxide. “But…you still need to clean those cuts or they’ll take longer to heal and probably scar.”

Once again, Y/N was surprised to see that Bruce did as she said. He didn’t complain or refuse her assistance – just sat there silently. The man didn’t even flinch and Y/N knew she was causing his injuries to sting.

“What happened tonight that has you so upset?” Y/N finally asked after silently caring for him for a few minutes.

“What makes you think I’m upset?”

She sighed softly. “I’ll be the first to admit that you’re nearly impossible to read. But clearly something happened that caused you to storm out of the cave like you did.”

Bruce didn’t respond.

“Was it them?” Y/N asked carefully. “The Court?"

For a moment, she thought he’d ignore that question too.

“They know I’m protecting you. Well…they know that Batman is protecting you.”

Y/N shrugged. “We knew they were gonna figure it out eventually.”

Bruce remained silent.

“Did they send the Talons after you?”

From his expression, Y/N knew she was right.

The Talons were a group of lethal assassins that did all of the dirty work for The Court of Owls. They were highly trained, almost entirely undetectable, and a force to be reckoned with. Probably only second to the League of Assassins when it came to deadliness.

“That’s why Jason was with you,” Y/N pointed out. “You needed backup.”

“We had it under control,” was all Bruce said.

“I know you were already going after The Court,” Y/N told him gently. “And you need my help.” She hesitated and took in a shaky breath, “But thank you for looking out for me.”

“What was your plan?” Bruce asked.

“What do you mean?”

“When I came to you and told you that you’d been made, you said that you knew. What was your plan?”

“Run. And keep running. You and I both know I’m hopeless when it comes to an actual fight.” She shrugged. “My plan was to keep working on exposing them and stay alive long enough to see it through.”

Y/N waited for some sort of lecture, for Bruce to tell her that it was a stupid plan and she had been sloppy. She waited to feel patronized and belittled.

But Bruce just stared at her.

“What?” She challenged.

“I wish you would prioritize your life a bit more.”

She moved back a little from cleaning his cuts and snorted. “What? Like you?”

Then she shook her head and went back to cleaning his cuts. “You’re so not the person to be lecturing about self-preservation, Bruce.”

Then Bruce surprised them both.

He grabbed Y/N by the back of her neck and brought her down to him before his lips collided with hers.

She dropped all the medical supplies in her hand from the shock of it all. But then she was cupping his face and kissing him back.

Next thing she knew, Bruce had steered her body so she was straddling his lap.

It had been so long since that night that Y/N had almost forgotten what his lips felt like. Or how his hands touched her so tenderly, but his intent was always clear and effortlessly confident.

But then Y/N’s leg accidentally collided with one of Bruce’s bruised ribs.

It didn’t deter him. He had every intention of ignoring it.

But Y/N felt his body tense in pain and she swore she felt the vibrations of the quietest pained moan from him.

She could’ve imagined it, but she wasn’t going to continue knowing that she had the ability to accidentally hurt him.

But it was also her saving grace. Because Y/N shouldn’t be doing this.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from the kiss. Bruce allowed the movement, but his grip on her waist and neck didn’t ease in the slightest.

“You should rest,” she whispered to him.

Then she shoved herself away from him and awkwardly stepped backwards as if she was desperately trying to put space between them.

“Umm…make sure you keep that ice on your ribs,” she told him awkwardly, half turned away from him.

Bruce opened his mouth to stop her, but no words came out.

The next second, she bolted out of the bathroom and then his master suite.

Her mind was racing with so many thoughts that Y/N didn’t notice Dick catching her race into her own bedroom.

Dick looked between Y/N’s closed door and the direction of Bruce’s room, putting it all together.

—————

After the close call with the Talons, Bruce had all hands on deck. Even Jason – who usually did his own thing and had separated himself from family matters – had been brought into the fold. Which meant he was spending way more time around the manor.

Y/N knew things were getting serious.

Bruce wasn’t exactly keeping her in the dark. But he also wasn’t being forthcoming with information.

Y/N didn’t know if he was trying to shield her in some way…or if he was just doing business as usual and taking control, not allowing anyone in until he thought it was absolutely necessary.

Either way, through the chaos of it all, Y/N realized Dick hadn’t acted as her shadow in almost a week.

It wasn’t until Jason decided to bother Y/N that she realized what had changed.

Jason leaned backwards against the console Y/N was working on so she was forced to face him. He crossed his arms with a smirk and looked down at her.

“So, you and B, huh?”

“Get off my equipment,” she warned him darkly without even glancing at him.

But inside, she was internally freaking out.

Y/N made a point to keep as many facts about her life a secret. And her sex life? That was top priority when it came to her privacy. This was worst case scenario.

But also, how the hell did he figure that out?

Jason shrugged, but did as she asked and took a step away from the console. “He didn’t say anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Y/N finally looked up him. “Please tell me what I have to do to get you to leave me the fuck alone.”

Jason smiled and whistled. “I think I like you.”

“The feeling’s not mutual,” she mumbled as she began typing again.

“Jason, leave her alone.”

Y/N turned to see Dick walking into the cave.

Jason held up his hands in surrender and gave his brother an innocent face. “I was just trying to be polite to our guest, Richard.”

“I’m sure you were,” Dick side eyed him.

Jason then turned to Y/N and put on his Red Hood helmet. “I look forward to having more of these titillating conversations, Y/N.” Then he turned to Dick. “I’m heading out on patrol.”

He mounted his motorcycle and raced out of the cave, leaving Dick and Y/N alone for the first time in awhile.

“No patrol for you tonight?” Y/N asked him slowly.

“They’ve got it covered.”

She just nodded and didn’t ask any further questions.

All at once, they were submerged into strange silence. The air was racing with thoughts, yet the tension seemed to simultaneously make it thick, as well.

Y/N sighed. She might as well get this over with.

“I know you want to ask, so just ask,” Y/N mumbled as her fingers raced across the keyboard and her eyes never left the screens.

“Doesn’t the whole…” Dick really didn’t know how to put it delicately.

Y/N sighed, clearly annoyed with his fumbling. She turned around in her chair to face him. “Does his age bother me? Is that what you’re struggling to ask?”

Dick shifted his weight awkwardly, “I guess so. Yeah.”

She raised her brow. “Haven’t you dated a literal alien before?”

“That’s not the same thing,” he defended with a glare.

“Oh, so as long as the alien is the same age as you, it’s fine?”

Dick really didn’t have an answer for that.

“It’s just that…aren’t you a little young for him?” Somehow he managed to leave out the rudeness in the question. That must be the Wayne charm.

“Isn’t 9 a little young to put on a costume and fight crime?”

Dick sighed, “Touché.”

“I am one of the most successful hackers in the world. He’s a vigilante who dresses up as a bat. What about us screams normal and conventional to you, Dick?”

He knew she had a point.

“Plus, we aren’t in a relationship. It was a one-time thing. Nothing more. It happened a long time ago.”

However, she conveniently left out the heated kiss they shared last night.

“You sure about that?” Dick challenged.

Y/N just eyed him.

“Because the only women he’s had one-time things with are the one’s he’s used or paid to keep the image.” He took a step closer. “And they definitely didn’t know who he really was.”

Y/N tried not to let it show that his words caught her off guard.

This exactly what Y/N didn’t want.

She didn’t want anyone putting ideas in her head that she actually meant something to Bruce Wayne. Because she might make the mistake of believing it.

It happened once. They slept together once. One time.

Had there been a indescribable intensity between them since then? Yes. But Y/N didn’t like to acknowledge or think about that.

“Can we please stop talking about this?” She asked.

Dick blinked and shook his head. “Sorry,” he blurted out. “I didn’t mean to…make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N put her face in her hands and groaned.

Then she shot to her feet and faced Dick. If he wasn’t a vigilante who could break the average man in one swift move, he would be intimidated by the energy radiating off of her.

“Hmm…I wonder why this conversation could ever make me feel uncomfortable, Dick,” her sarcasm was almost too natural.

Then her face dropped.

When her body language screamed that she was embarrassed, that’s when Dick felt like a piece of shit.

“Look, we’re not…” She didn’t even know how to explain this. “We’re nothing. OK?”

Dick nodded slowly, “OK.”

And he believed her. Because she believed it. Whether that was the truth though, that was an entirely different story.

“We met years ago because I threatened to expose his identity to the world.”

Dick blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Y/N at least had the shame to look guilty about it.

“You threatened him? You threatened Bruce Wayne? The man who dresses up as a bat and scares the shit out of the criminals of Gotham?”

“I didn’t plan on actually doing it!” Y/N tried to defend. “I needed to get his attention. And guess what, it worked.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose as she thought back in time. “I discovered a sex trafficking ring. I had all the information, everything to take it down. I just needed a little…muscle.”

“And you thought Batman could be that muscle,” Dick finished for her.

She nodded.

Then Dick looked at the all the equipment. Her story reminded him what she was fully capable of and why she was here in the first place. “How did you learn to do all of this?”

It was obvious that he was trying to change the subject and give her an out. But she let him still.

Y/N shrugged.

“Is this the part where you tell me about all your degrees from various Ivy League universities?” Dick teased.

“I didn’t go to college,” she told him evenly.

“You di–How is that even possible?”

“I don’t agree with institutionalized higher education.”

Dick rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” she warned him. “You didn’t go to college either.”

Dick scoffed and crossed his arms. “Of course that’s old information to you. Is there anything that you don’t know about me?”

She smirked at his obvious frustration. “I don’t know your favorite color.”

Though she had been teasing him before, her confession was genuine. And her soft tone didn’t go amiss with Dick.

For a moment, Y/N didn’t think he was going to tell her.

“It’s red,” he told her softly.

“Hmm,” she was surprised. “I always assumed it was blue…because of the uniform and all.”

“Red was always the color of my family’s costumes.” He knew the answer was rather vague.

Y/N’s face turned sympathetic, “The Flying Graysons?”

Dick nodded.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that she seemed to know everything about him.

“Red’s a good choice,” Y/N added with a sad smile.

But he realized what she was actually saying was her condolences. Somehow it was better than the forced and awkward “I’m so sorry” he constantly got.

Dick grabbed a chair and sat down to face her with such purpose.

“What else do you want to know?”

Y/N allowed herself to smile at the question.

“Everything.”

—————

Y/N got addicted to Dick’s openness.

Once Dick Grayson decided to trust someone…he really trusted them.

He didn’t hide himself from Y/N.

Unlike Bruce, Dick was easy to read. But Y/N knew that wasn’t the case for everyone. She saw the way Dick communicated with old team members or even on comms with his brothers.

But for Y/N, if she asked him something, Dick gave her the answer.

It was as simple as that.

There were no games, no hiding, nor withholding, not manipulation, no fear.

There was just Dick Grayson.

But Y/N also new he was capable of all of those things still. She’d seen him twist conversations and put the focus on the other person. He doesn’t seem to have any issue with blatantly lying. That’s when Y/N saw Bruce.

So why was she different?

————

“I can’t stay another second in this fucking house,” Y/N snapped one day.

They had just eaten dinner and were now sitting in one of the dens.

Dick laughed at her. “It’s not exactly a prison, Y/N. You’re in a mansion with everything you could ever need – and more.”

But this was the most time Y/N had spent in one place. She was always moving, always on the run. Yeah, she stayed in Gotham for the most part, but she missed the dangerous streets of the city.

“I’m not taking you out,” Dick gave her a warning look as he pointed at her.

“OK. First off, Bruce said nothing about me not being able to leave.”

Dick gave her a look that said, ‘How dumb do you think I am?’

“And if you were with me, then it’s fine. Right?”

“Y/N,” Dick groaned.

“And finally, I can do what I want,” Y/N added with a serious look.

“Sure you can,” he smirked.

But Y/N was being serious and she stood up. “I’m not his prisoner.”

Then she was headed toward the garage.

“No one said you were,” Dick called out after her.

He jumped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Y/N, you know more than anyone that The Court has eyes everywhere. Your face shows up on one street camera for a second and you’ll be tagged. They’ll follow you back here and then nowhere will be safe.”

“I know,” she answered as if it were obvious. “But we’re just going for a drive. Half of Bruce’s cars have tinted windows. And we’re going to take the backroads on the fringe. No street cameras. I doubt we’ll even see another car.”

Dick was adding up the risks in his head, calculating every possible outcome.

“Is Nightwing scared of what Batman will think?” Y/N teased.

Dick raised his eyebrow in amusement and crossed his arms. “Whatever game you’re trying to play…we both know I can play it better.”

She gave him the most innocent face.

Dick sighed. Was he really about to do this?

“Come on,” he told her.

“Really?” Y/N was shocked she got him to concede.

“But I’m driving. And we’re taking the bike,” he called over his shoulder as he turned on the lights of the garage.

‘Garage’ was an understatement. It looked more like a fancy warehouse that housed at least 20 cars and a dozen motorcycles.

“The bike?” Y/N questioned.

Dick chuckled. “What? You scared of riding motorcycles?”

Before she had the chance to answer, he pushed a helmet into her chest. It would fully cover her face and had a tinted visor shield on it.

“Need I remind you that this was your idea?”

Y/N glared at him and put on the helmet.

She watched a safe distance away as Dick started his motorcycle and revved he engine.

Even though she was wearing a helmet, he could still tell she was apprehensive.

“Come on,” he encouraged her gently before putting on his own helmet.

Slowly, she approached the motorcycle.

“Just swing your leg over – there you go,” he instructed.

Then he put on his helmet and Y/N realized there were comms linked between the two helmets so they could hear each other easily.

“Uhh…where do I–how do I hold on?” Her question stumbled out.

To her surprise, he didn’t verbally answer. Instead, Dick just reached behind him for her hands and placed them under his leather jacket and around his waist.

The contact felt strangely intimate. And Y/N hated that it made her heart race a bit faster. She hoped he couldn’t feel it as her chest bumped against his back. Hopefully he would just think it was her adrenaline and fear from the bike.

“Good?” He asked as he revved the engine again.

“I think so?”

Suddenly they shot out of the garage and raced down the long drive that led to the gate.

Y/N didn’t think Dick was going unusually fast, by any means. But the motorcycle made everything feel more extreme. She slowly started to put together why people liked riding them so much. It was a rush.

Dick did as he suggested and took backroads, avoiding any main streets or heavy-traffic areas. Which meant a lot of twists and turns.

But Y/N was surprised when he started to slow down and pulled onto a street that was just surrounded by forests. The sun had just set and the sky was colored pink and purple.

Dick turned off the bike when they reached a clearing. It was a meadow, with tall grass that moved like the ocean from the night breeze.

Y/N took off her helmet and grinned at the sight.

She turned to Dick, “Didn’t expect a city boy like you to know places like this…”

“City boy?” Dick looked insulted. “I was a traveling circus kid before Bruce took me in.” He looked out at the land, “This was one of our stops. We set up right over there,” he pointed to an open field where the ground was even and the grass was short.

Y/N’s face changed when she realized Dick had a connection to this place. It wasn’t just a stop off the highway. It meant something to him.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. It was hard to meet his gaze.

“For what?”

“Taking me here. For taking me anywhere, really.”

“Despite how enormous the manor is, it’s suffocating sometimes,” Dick tried to reason with her. “Has it really been so bad, being stuck with us?”

“No,” she quickly answered and took a step toward him. “How much time have you spent working with a team?”

Dick thought about it. “I mean, after leaving Bruce, I just went from one team to another. Even when I think I’m working alone, my family is always around the corner.”

Y/N gave him a sad smile, already knowing that would be his answer. “I never had that. It’s always just been…me.”

“Why?” Dick questioned.

He knew better than anyone that heroes found other heroes, whether they wanted to or not. And he knew from experience that a team had a stronger chance of changing the world for the better. Even Bruce gave up on being a lone warrior – despite him trying to believe he still is one.

“I don’t go after criminals that wear face paint and shoot guns, Dick. I go after the people that terrify others into silence and submission. I go after the people that most don’t even know we should be going after.” She shook her head. “It’s dangerous in a different way. And I never wanted to risk anyone else’s life but my own.”

“But when things go south, who’s got your back?” Dick challenged.

Y/N thought about it a moment and just shrugged.

Dick’s eyes saddened. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Y/N.”

She didn’t acknowledge his statement.

When there was a large gust of wind, Y/N closed her eyes as if it would help her body absorb the nature around them.

Dick allowed himself to take her in while her eyes were closed – all of her.

He still didn’t know so much about her past – what she’s seen, what she’s been through. But he felt like he understood her as a person. He saw how intelligent she was, how she explained things to Tim without sounding condescending or embarrassing him for not knowing. Or how patient she was with Damian when he was his bratty self, and she clearly saw his behavior for what it was: a child who didn’t know how to converse with normal people. And when Jason was a sarcastic smartass, Y/N gave it right back to him. Dick also didn’t miss how Y/N offered to help Alfred cook and clean up as if it wasn’t his job.

The moment Dick was having as he looked at Y/N was interrupted by his phone.

“100 bucks that it’s Bruce,” Y/N griped.

And when Dick pulled it out from his pocket, lo and behold, Bruce’s name was lit on the screen.

“Hello. Yeah, she’s with me. We just went for a drive. We’re heading back now.”

As soon as he hung up, Y/N asked, “Was he pissed?”

“He was extremely calm, which is probably not a good sign.”

But Dick didn’t seem too concerned with Bruce’s wrath. He’d grown out of that long ago.

“Come on,” he nodded to his parked motorcycle.

Y/N slid on the bike behind him with much more confidence and finesse this time. And there was no hesitation as she wrapped her hands around around Dick’s waist. He swore her grip was tighter too.

“Ready?” Dick still asked her.

But then his hand seemed to have a mind of his and slid over the grip she had on his waist, brushing across one of her hands almost…affectionately.

He didn’t even realize he did it until a few seconds afterward.

“Mhmm,” Y/N hummed.

The ride back was less peaceful. The sun had gone down and if they weren’t in view of Gotham’s city lights, they couldn’t see their surroundings. It also didn’t help that they knew they were returning to the manor to face Bruce.

When they parked inside the garage and turned off the engine, they both heard Bruce call Dick’s name from inside.

Y/N winced, but quickly recovered.

She squeezed Dick’s upper-arm. “Don’t worry. This is on me.”

Before Dick couldn’t argue and say he wasn’t scared of Bruce, Y/N was walking back into the manor.

“Need I remind you that you’re number one on The Court of Owls’ hit list?” Bruce told Y/N darkly.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and slacks. It was an off-duty look for him, but he still looked like he was in some sort of uniform.

“Dick had nothing to do with it,” Y/N defended calmly. “I threatened to photoshop nudes of him and sell them to TMZ and the Daily Mail.”

Bruce shared a look with Dick over Y/N’s shoulder, proving that he already knew Y/N had made no such threat.

“I’ll be in my lab,” Y/N announced, deciding to end the conversation before it could turn into a lecture or argument.

When she passed Bruce, Y/N turned around and gave Dick a grateful smile before mouthing, ‘Thank you’ to him.

Now it was just Bruce and Dick.

“If you want to lecture me, just get it over with,” Dick sighed.

“You know better,” Bruce answered.

“She was going to leave whether I went with her or not. I thought it was best to keep an eye on her. I wasn’t stupid about it, Bruce.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

Dick glared at him. “We can’t keep her locked up here forever.”

“She’ll stay until we take down The Court. Until then, she’s at risk.”

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Careful, Bruce. It’s starting to sound like you’re making this personal.”

But they both knew there was another meaning behind his words. Dick saw Bruce put together what he was really trying to say. ‘I know you two have a history. I know what happened between you.’

But Dick didn’t know what was happening now.

Bruce just glared at him and said, “I could say the same to you.”

Then he turned and left.

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

Part III

Ooooooo. The drama!

Let me know what you think! Please 😔

#all men have limits #all men have limits chapter 2 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne reader insert #batman x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #batboys #batfam #dick grayson x reader x bruce wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader x dick Grayson

528 notes · View notes

roscgcld · 4 years

Text

INUMAKI TOGE || scary man

request: The little sister ask is so cute is it okay to ask something like it I don't want to bother you, but if it okay then inumaki toge x little sister reader (5 or6), where she is scared of them because he doesn't visit a lot and is quite so whenever he visit she hides under the bed , poor baby would be so sad,also imagine the other 2d years trying to help him,

I forgot to add this sorry when the other second year try to help him it backfire because she gets attached to maki instead ( string beautiful woman a big sister!) Sorry again for forgetting your writing is so good

note: hello love! no this was not a bother to me at all! I enjoyed writing that imagine! i wouldn’t mind writing a short imagine for this! also, thank you for thinking my writing is good c: it is average at best, but i feel your love~ i hope you enjoy this though!

pronouns: she/her

scene: before yuji’s appearance in the story; since it will be weird to only have maki ><

"This is going to be your future school, by the way!” A tall white man with a blindfold said to the young girl, who was holding onto his hand tightly as she stared at the school in awe. Today was a special day, the Inumaki clan had revealed to the world another Inumaki heir; one with strong cursed energy that is quite the force to be reckoned with. Even though she doesn’t have the Cursed Speech Ability like her older brother does, she still has all the qualms to be a powerful sorcerer in the future. So, with that, Gojo somehow convinces the Inumaki elders to let the young girl to visit the college.

The main reason? For his own student, of course!

Everyone knows how much Toge misses his family, more specifically, his baby sister. He hasn’t seen her since she was born, besides the odd visit here and there that never seems to end well for the two of them. When she was first born, she loved her older brother to pieces, not minding his tattoos and how quiet the man was. But the older she got, and the more she spends time around others who look relatively normal, it become a shock to her system when she realised that her “onii-chan” has scary tattoos on the side of his face.

And only speaks in onigiri ingredients too! What kind of person talks like that?

Gojo had heard this little ‘issue’ form Yuta one day, after noticing that Toge looking more glum then usual after the school gave students permission to return home over the weekend. So, as the loving sensei he is, why wouldn’t he pull some strings to let the youngest Inumaki heir to come and visit the college? She is going to enroll here in the future anyway; and since her brother was going to be there to keep an eye on her as well, his parents had agreed to let her go with the white haired shaman.

Which was how we found the little girl, wide eyed and dressed in a adorable purple and white kimono, walking beside her guardian for the day. Gojo found the young girl quite adorable, having to hold her tiny hand firmly so she was not running about the school to explore. He didn’t want her to fall and hurt herself, since she was technically under his case; but he also wants to see her reaction to seeing her older brother. “Y/N-chan, shall we go and see the onee-chan and onii-chan I told you about?”

Immediately the girl’s eyes widen as she nodded her head in excitement, soft pigtails bouncing along with her movements. Gojo had to slap a hand over his face to stop his laughter from leaving. He may not want kids, but he does find kids absolutely adorable; and wouldn’t mind taking care of them from time to time. “Let’s go then, cutie!” He said after he took a moment to calm down, laughing when the little girl just tugged on his arm excitedly as she tried to lead the way.

Only to pause when they reached a courtyard and turned to look at the older man with a soft pout; as if silently telling him that she’s lost now.

Gojo grins and reaches over to pat the top of her head before he led her towards the courtyard, where he was sure the second year students were resting at. The second years were all on break right now, having had 3 hours of lessons earlier in the day. So the man was able to locate them at their usual resting spot - the cherry blossom gardens, resting on the soft grass under the shade of the still budding cherry blossom trees.

“Yo, second years! I have a guest I want you to meet!” Gojo called out as he led the little girl towards them, who now switch to grabbing onto the fabric of his pants as they made their way towards the small group. Maki and Yuta shared a confused look, wondering if Gojo had fathered a child along the way. Panda had opened one lazy eye, his nose twitching a little at the sight of the young girl. Only Inumaki looked like he had an idea on who she is, perking up a little as he got up hastily. “Bonito flakes!”

“That’s right!” Gojo said with a grin as he clapped, gesturing to the girl that was hiding behind the tall man’s legs; peeking over at the group shyly. “Let me introduce you to the youngest Inumaki heir, and younger sister to our dear Toge-kun, Inumaki Y/N!” He introduced before he carefully coax the girl from behind his legs, squatting down before her as he gave the unsure girl a smile. “Now, Y/N-chan - how do we greet people?”

Immediately the young girl pauses before she faces the group once more, folding her hands before her before she gave them a soft bow. “It’s nice to meet you all.” She said in a soft and shy voice, causing both Maki and Yuta to coo at how cute she was. Neither of them have met Toge’s little sister before, besides seeing the odd video and picture from their friend; so seeing the young girl that’s no more than six shyly greeting them definitely causes them to find her adorable.

Toge, on the other hand, was ecstatic. Even though he does not see her as often, due to college and all, he still loves his baby sister to death. Without a fail he will send birthday and christmas presents to the young girl, receiving videos of his baby sister unwrapping them on camera and thanking him with the cutest smile on her face. However, he knows that she still does fear him - so he wasn’t too shocked when she just shyly clutched onto the front of Gojo’s uniform; shaking her head repeated whilst the older man tried to coax her to go and greet the others.

Yuta, as if feeling her distress, decided to get up and gestures for his friend to follow, both boys quietly making their way towards her whilst Maki stayed back to watch with a smile. “Hello there.” Yuta greeted quietly as he bent down to her height, giving the young girl a welcoming smile whilst Toge stood over the two of them. “My name is Yuta, you must be Toge’s younger sister?” He asks in a kind tone as he gestures to the other boy, who just waves at his sister warmly.

At the sight of the two males, the younger girl freezes up before burying herself deeper into Gojo’s jacket, causing the older man to chuckle as he rests his palm on her back soothingly. “Don’t be scared. Like I said, they are nice people.” He tried to coax the little girl, who refused to pull her face out of his uniform jacket. Her action caused Toge’s shoulders to sag a little, feeling bad that his own baby sister was scared of him.

It wasn’t his fault that his ability causes him to have tattoos on the side of his mouth and tongue. He remembers crying about it when he was younger too, but had gotten used to it ever since. Plus, a few of his uncles and aunts carry the same markings too, so he didn’t feel too alone.

But when your own baby sister is clearly scared of you, anyone would be sad.

Maki, as if sensing the tension, got up before she made her way towards the two, gently smacking the back of Yuta’s head as she squatted down beside the male; who glared at her in response as he rubbed the back of his head lightly. “You’re hopeless.” She grumbled before she turned to face the little girl with a smile, who had shyly glanced over the new addition to the group. “Y/N-chan, my name is Maki.” The woman greeted in a surprisingly soft tone, causing the little girl to loosen her hold a little on Gojo’s jacket. “Your onii-chan has told us a lot about you, and Yuta and I are quite excited that you came to visit us all the way in Tokyo.”

The three males shared a shocked look, having never expected Maki to be able to converse in such a soft tone with anyone before. But somehow she is doing it - quietly talking and coaxing the girl out of Gojo’s jacket; and soon the two girls joined hands to go to the vending machine to grab a drink. Yuta and Toge both blinked, sharing a look between each other whilst the two girls slowly faded off into the distance. Even Gojo was quite shocked by the outcome, grinning over at the two as he rest his face in his hand, his elbow resting on his bent knee with a grin. “Oya? Seems like you’ve got some competition for attention, Toge-kun.”

“...Tuna.” Toge huffed, and if his zipper was down, there was definitely a pout set on his lips as he looked away from the grinning older man. “Gojo-sensei.” Yuta said with a soft frown as he glances over at his teacher disapprovingly, who only gave a cheeky smile in response. Yuta ignored the older male as he got up, gently patting Toge on the shoulder with a smile as his friend glances over at the slightly taller male. “Don’t mind, Toge - I am sure all we need to do is help her warm up to you a little more. I mean, it’s been awhile since you’ve last saw her. Maybe she just needs more time.”

Toge gave his friend an uncertain look, but it wasn’t like there was any other choice. So he just sighs softly before he nods in defeat, to which Yuta just smiles and squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry - I am sure she’ll talk to you eventually.

As the day continue to go by, Toge was pretty sure that there was no way the two of you are going to be bonding anytime soon.

Throughout the entire day, you have been clearly shadowing Maki around; asking her if she can teach you things, following her about as she went to class; clinging onto her every word as she entertained your curious questions. Yuta wasn’t any better then Toge, but she still managed to talk to him without flinching or running away from him; but she’d have to be clutching onto Maki or be close to the older girl whenever she’s conversing with Yuta. Even Panda had some interactions with you - well, it was more so you jumping and climbing all over the panda with the bright smile and loudly giggles whilst Panda laid there, letting you climb about his fluffy body.

However Maki did actually try to get the younger girl to talk to him - asking the young girl to go and ask if her older brother wanted a drink after class, quietly coaxing her to go and ask him for things like snacks or change for snacks. The younger girl though, was not having it - shaking her head with tearful eyes, silently begging the older girl without using her words. This caused Toge to deflate and his mood to drop significantly. It wasn’t like he can control his appearance to begin with.

To be honest, he had never thought much about his appearance. Because of this, he was used to getting comments and hiding his tattoos so he didn’t really stand out - but when it’s his baby sister, who he loves with his entire heart, is the one scared of him?

Now that was just another low.

Toge whines as he leans back into his seat, watching his baby sister going about following Maki as she went about her day. Yuta, who was seated next to the sulking teen, glances over at him in amusement as he finishes his mouthful of water. “Maybe she just needs some time to warm up to you.” He tried to offer, feeling bad that he was feeling this way. He was sure having your baby sister fear you was probably not the best feeling. Must have been another slap to the face when she ended up falling about your best friend. “I mean, she’s still young. She’ll grow out of this.”

The same boy just whines and tilts his head back with his eyes closed, trying not to think about the entire thing. It was because of this that he didn’t hear soft whispers and footsteps, only looking over curiously when he felt someone gently tapping on his knee. Opening his eyes quietly, he looks pulls his head up just in time to see his baby sister, cheeks rosy and eyes downcast as she held out a crudely picked bunch of flowers. Maki stood beside the young girl with an amused look on her face, looking over at Toge with a raised eyebrow when he looks up as well. “Salmon?”

“Y/N here said she wanted to make you feel better.” Maki said with a grin as he reaches down to pet the soft girl on the hair whilst the young girl just shyly nods her head. “She felt bad, since I told her that you’re sad that she’s scared of you.” Maki continues whilst Toge blinks before he carefully takes the flowers from the girl’s young hand. Quietly she wrapped her arms around his legs, since he was seated on a few seats higher from the ground.

Her reaction caused Toge to freeze, watching as she nuzzles closer and tighter her grip even more. “...D-Don’t be sad, Nee-chan.” She mumbles out in a soft voice, one so pure and innocent that it had all the seniors coo at the little girl quietly. “I-I promise to be a g-good girl..”

Toge felt his heart melt, the sadness he felt from the day melting along with him as he reaches over to pat the top of her head gently. He had hoped that his actions spoke louder then words for him, offering the girl a soft chuckle when she just looks up at him with a bright smile. Wordlessly she held her tiny hand out for him, causing Toge to tilt his head as he grabbed it; letting the little girl start to drag him about somewhere.

Maki and Yuta decided to sit back as they watch the two siblings go off to somewhere on campus, probably to the pond located on the temple grounds to feed the fish together. “How did you convince her to approach Toge?” Yuta asks with a raised eyebrow as Maki took Toge’s place on the stone steps, her long sword resting by her side. “Oh, I just explained that her older brother loves her a lot, and ask her who do you think gets you all of those gifts on her birthday.”

“Ah, guilt tripping.” Yuta teases with a grin whilst Maki just rolls her eyes with a chuckle, nudging him softly. “I would say it’s teasing her how to count her blessing.” Was Maki’s reply as they watch the two walk deeper into the campus, Toge nodding his head with an excited look whilst the young girl was talking non-stop about something.

“But hey, at least both of them look happy.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #inumaki #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk inumaki #jjk inumaki x reader #inumaki to/ge #okkotsu yuta #jjk okkotsu #zenin maki #zenin clan #gojo satoru #jjk maki #jjk gojo

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fandom-puff · 4 years

Text

Manhunt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Requested by: anon ‘Hey, I saw that your requests are open. Can I request a Tommy Shelby fic where y/n gets kidnapped, please? Maybe Tommy’s getting extremely angry and worried and only calms down when he gets her back. Of course it’s up to you. Female reader if possible. Thank you so much :)’

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, swearing, injury (result of knife, beatings)

Bold italics = flashback

Gif creds to owner

“Where the fuck’ve you been?” Polly demanded from her desk, arms folded and lips pursed as Tommy stumbled through the door.

“Ah, let him be, Pol,” Arthur grinned, clapping him on the back. “Reckon his head’s still on his honeymoon. Been stuck in bed with the missus all morning, eh, brother?”

Tommy smirked boyishly. “No. Fuckin’ car broke down. Anyway, YN left ours hours ago, said she was seeing Ada before she buggers back off to London,”

At that moment, Ada walked through the door, holding one of John and Esme’s kids on her hip, bouncing him gently. “I haven’t seen YN today, Tom. Didn’t show up to our reservation in that nice cafe. Haven’t heard from her, so I just thought she was with you,”

Tommy frowned deeply. “But... she left at half eight to catch the bus. I told her I’d give her a lift but she said she needed to run a few errands before she met up with you,” he checked his pocket watch quickly. “It’s gone noon. Are you lot sure you haven’t heard from or seen her?”

“Tom, it’s fine, she’s probably just caught up in the shops or something,” John said, lighting a cigarette.

“No. It’s not fucking fine, Johnboy. She left at half eight this morning, stood Ada up in her favourite cafe- and she’s been going on about it for weeks- and no one has seen hide nor hair of her for hours. Something’s wrong,”

Jaw set harshly, Tommy strode out of the betting shop, closely followed by his brothers. “Oi! Finn. Run and tell Sergeant Moss that I said to have a search party out. Tell him YN’s missing. Then on your way back, go to Charlie’s yard and tell him to keep an eye on the canals for her, alright. Good lad,” Finn nodded and began to run as fast as his legs would carry him.

“What about us, Tommy?” Arthur said. “Tell us what to do,”

***

Slowly, your eyes opened, though you still couldn’t see anything- a length of fabric covered your eyes, blocking out all light. Every inch of your body ached, and you became vaguely aware of the stinging sensation at your wrists- they were bound behind your back, the tightly knitted rope rubbing your skin raw. Judging by the slight jostling movement of your body and the hum of an engine below you, you were in a vehicle, being driven god knows where.

Deciding to keep quiet, you took some deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, trying your hardest to recall the previous hours...

***

“I’ll see you later, Tom,” you smiled, giving your grinning husband a final kiss goodbye before setting off to the bus stop. Tommy had offered you a lift, but you declined, saying something about errands and scenery. It was an alright day, by British standards, the sun trying its hardest to peak through the thin clouds.

You were halfway to the bus stop when you felt a presence behind you. Hurrying your steps a little more, knowing the old gentleman from the village would likely be at the stop for his weekly shop, if you could just get around this bend, you dared a look behind you, before colliding head on with something- or rather someone.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” you said, making to step around him, but his arms shot out, grasping onto you while the man behind you yanked a fistful of your hair, tugging your head backwards.

“Don’t you worry, Shelby,” he said, a slight accent lacing his low voice. “You will be,”

You tried to stamp your heels down on the attackers’ shins, you made to bite the hands closest to your face, to wriggle as much as you could. As you began to scream, a damp cloth was held over your nose and mouth, making your eyes roll back and your body slacken, allowing the two men to drag you to their vehicle, hidden by the shrubbery and blossoming trees and the loud caws of the birds.

***

Tommy was in full panic mode. He had Peaky Blinders scouring the whole of Birmingham, Sergeant Moss had managed to telephone the London police and have a telegram sent to every constabulary in the country to keep an eye out. Johnny Doggs had the Lee boys out, and Charlie was stopping every boat the passed through the cut.

Tommy kicked the table in the betting shop, sending papers and coins flying. “Where the fuck is she?” He roared, eyes flashing with some anger, but mostly fear.

“We’re doing everything we can, Thomas,” Polly said firmly, patting her nephews back and pushing a cup of tea into his hands. “It’s well sugared. You need the energy,”

“It’s not fucking enough!” He yelled, taking one sip of the tea before slamming the cup down, sloshing the table. “She could be anywhere and we’re sat here like idiots!”

Polly sighed, retreating to man the phone, waiting for someone, anyone to phone with knowledge of your whereabouts.

“It’ll be alright, brother,” John said. “Esme’s down with the Lees making sure none of them are sat twiddling their thumbs. Moss has every copper in Birmingham on the case. Even the London coppers are looking for a Shelby, and their almost all under Solomons and Sabini,”

Tommy was quiet for a moment before he looked between his brothers. “Solomons and Sabini...” he said slowly, processing the information before his face hardened.

“Solomons is a mad bastard,” Arthur said quietly.

“Right. Car, now. We’re going to London,”

***

The blind fold was removed, but you still couldn’t see much. One of your eyes was swollen shut, and the room you were in was plunged in almost complete darkness. Your hands were still tied, only now they (along with your ankles) were bound to a chair. You tried to shuffle the chair along, but it made a loud grating scraping noise, and caused a blinding pain to shoot through your nerves. Something was definitely broken.

“Shelby,”

The voices echoed around the room as you heard the men draw closer, their footsteps rapping sharply against the concrete ground. You strained your good eye, trying to make out their faces, but you could only make out vague face shapes, plunged in shadows.

“I told you, I don’t have any information!” You said urgently, preparing yourself for another punch or kick.

It didn’t come. Instead you felt the cold edge of a thin blade pressing against your swollen cheek. He dragged the blade slowly and you hissed as your cheek bloomed with stinging pain, feeling your hot blood trickle down your face and neck.

“We don’t want information,” the other man said lowly as you felt the tip of the knife press against your neck briefly. You held your breath, preparing for the worst, before the blade dropped. You let out a shaky breath of relief, which quickly turned into a groan of pain as a thick finger dragged along the fresh wound. “We don’t need one of Shelby’s whores for information,” you shut your eyes tightly, willing your tears not to fall. “We want to destroy Tommy Shelby,”

***

“Thomas! Thomas! Stop the fucking car now!”

The car squealed to a halt and Tommy almost tripped over his own feet in his haste. “This had better be good, Pol,” he growled, grabbing hold of the phone. “Speaking,”

“That you, Tommy?”

Tommy gritted his teeth. “Aye, Solomons. Make it quick. I’ve no time for business now,”

“Yeah, I know, right. Right fuckin’ fuss you’ve kicked up, yeah. Looking for that wife of yours, I heard. Well, Tommy, my coppers have been out and about , right, searchin’ high and fuckin’ low. Found nothin’ right,”

“Alfie,” tommy hissed. “I’m on my way down to London, now. If you’ve got no information, I don’t wanna hear any of your fuckin’ stories, alright?”

“Oi, you watch your tone, Tommy. I’m getting there. See now, Ollie’s missus’s got a friend whose friend is the wife of a fuckin’ wop, right. She says, right, that your wife, YN, had been on Sabini’s fuckin’ hit list from the very start. He’s got his coppers trying to dismiss this ever so mysterious disappearance, right. But my coppers, yeah, Tommy, you followin’?”

“I’m following,” tommy said through gritted teeth.

“Right, well my coppers have received a tip off from one of Sabini’s coppers that there’s some funny business going on in the old abandoned warehouse, you know the one, the one up in Cheltenham, what the anarchists set fire to,”

“You sure, Alfie?”

“Course I’m fuckin’ sure. Off you go, Tommy,”

***

How long you had been on the floor for, you had no idea. Your arms and legs were no longer bound- not that it made any difference. You couldn’t move without a fresh round of pain turning your stomach. Tears mixed with blood on your cheeks; you could barely keep your eyes open; you lay next to a pool of your own vomit due to the pain; your clothes were soaking with your own blood and urine; you were ready to die.

***

Gunshots. Three of them.

Three voices shouting, although you couldn’t distinguish what they were saying.

The door swung open, flooding the room with light. You made to lift your head up off the floor, but sobbed in agony.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

“YN, it’s alright, I’m here! They’re gone, I’ve got you,”

You felt the familiar warm hands on your body, the strong arms lifting you, the distinct smell. But you couldn’t open your eyes- you were simply too tired.

“Tommy...” you breathed, one hand bunched up in his coat.

“Shhh, I’m here, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you help, okay, my love. Don’t you worry one bit, okay?”

You nodded, trusting your eyes to shut, knowing that this time, tommy would be there to shake you awake, preventing you from giving into the darkness.

#tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy Shelby x reader #tommy Shelby x you #tommy Shelby angst #tommy Shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #request #2021

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funtimebunnyblog · 4 years

Text

Me: *receives this request*

Me: *sips my 3rd coffee of the day from my raccoon mug in the pitch dark of my room*

Me: My time has come...

Pillarmen (separate) with a coffee addicted, sarcastic, career focused s/o (who doesn’t get enough sleep)...

(under the cut for length!)

Kars:

"Have you eaten today?" The Pillarmen questioned you, looming over your desk in the dark of your Office.

"Yes." You answered simply, not bothering to tear your eyes from the laptop screen or the sea of words it held sitting before you. Kars however knew better than to leave it at just that, folding his arms across his chest as he cocked an eyebrow.

Kars frowned to himself as his eyes took in your workspace, trying not to focus on the fact that was littered with disorganized papers, food wrappers and a few empty mugs.

He would never let his desk degenerate into something even close to this mess.

"Alright. What did you eat?"

Kars clicked his tongue, letting out the sigh he knew he was going to make upon making the decision to check in on you in the first place. He had known very well this conversation would be steered into a direction like this.

A silence fell over the room, your the clicking of keyboard keys stalling for the briefest second before resuming.

"Coffee." Came the answer.

"Coffee is NOT a meal." He said curtly.

"I know it's not a meal, it's a vegetable." You replied without missing a single beat.

He pursed his lips, "Now what makes you say that?"

"It came from beans."

"Something to eat first, then you may finish your work. And then it's straight to bed with you." He ordered, carrying you downstairs to the kitchen. It was late and he knew that if he didn't set these boundaries you would be hunched over, typing away at your messy little desk all hours of the night.

Without another word you were picked up out of your office chair like nothing more than a common house cat and thrown over his shoulder, the massive man rolled his eyes as you whined that you had only a couple more pages to do and you were trying to finish.

He ignored your protests as much as he disregarded the sluggish pounds of your fists on his backside.

Needless to say, he didn't want a repeat of last time that happened. Coffee and redbull brew was a potent mixture he wanted to keep out of your reach from now on, no matter how tired you claimed to be.

"Ok, Mom." You bit back, finally giving up on your futile squirming for the night. You shot him your best glare as he set you down on the kitchen counter, the rings under your bleary eyes only becoming more prominent as he once again ignored your words and your stare, getting right into fixing you something quick to eat.

Kars wasn't a person to be spoken to in that way by anyone (they never usually lived long enough to get such remarks out) but you were much different of course. In fact, your sharp tongue was easily matched by his quick wit; it only made you an even stronger pair to be reckoned with in his opinion.

With only a quirk of his lips as a response to your sarcastic quip, a cookie was shoved into your mouth.

"Here. Perhaps this will sweeten up your sour, my child." He said, now fully getting on your level as he busied himself making you a sandwich.

A smile curled at the corners of your full mouth as you chewed away, your demeanor just a little lighter as sweet chocolate goodness tickled your senses. However, chocolate did little to coat the silver of your tongue.

"Bite me." You spat playfully, a few crumbs escaping your lips along with the words.

"You know better than to threaten me with a good time, dearest." Kars responded, not even lifting his eyes from the cutting board as he sliced away at a cucumber.

You nearly choked on the sweet you were savoring as you doubled over in laughter, making Kars smile to himself in triumph.

Esidisi:

"What are you doing?" Esidisi watched you with curious interest as you began to depart from the kitchen, just seconds after making your entrance, the entire pot of black coffee he had just prepared in your hand.

The steaming pot of rich and buzzing Caffeine was snatched from your grasp in a fraction of a second, you blinked to find squirming tendrils of veins spiriting it away back to your Husband.

"I'm flipping oyster burgers for the King of Spain, what does it look like?" You asked without even a thought, an impressive feat as it seemed like you were mere seconds away from falling over.

Disheveled wasn't even a word to describe your appearance. Your hair in disarray and wearing the same clothes as you had yesterday; you looked like you had been put through the ringer not once but a few times.

"Hey!" You cried, fully turning on him. It only made the smirk at the corner of his mouth grow as you advanced on him, stomping angrily as you went; inevitably you were only making yourself more adorable in his eyes. "Give that back! I need to get some work done!"

Taking the entire pot with you was the most elegant solution in your eyes rather than coming back downstairs every so often to refill your mug. You definitely needed the quantity of this pot if you wanted to stay awake any longer to complete your workload.

"Ah ah ah, not so fast little oyster flipper!" He laughed, holding the pot far out of your reach and pushing you at arms length as you attempted to make a grab for it.

Esidisi was always amused by your fiery determination when it came down to your work and the lengths you went through to get it done but he knew when enough was enough.

"What I want to know is, did you get any sleep last night?" He questioned, a bare brow raising; a look betraying his genuine concern for you in the midst of his jest.

The Pillarman was not going to let you take the pot of coffee all the way back to your office to chug like an oversized movie soda as you pushed through more piles of papers. You had been up there practically three days straight, basically just surviving on the stuff at this point.

If you weren't going to take care of yourself, he supposed he'd just have to do it for you.

"Er... uh..."

You blinked slowly, the raw stinging of your eyes didn't quite help you in forming a convincing response.

You could've swore you nodded off once, maybe twice, at your desk sometime in the middle of the night but you weren't sure for how long exactly. It probably didn't even come close to qualifying as "sleep" in terms of rest.

"Mm-hmm. That's what I thought." He hummed, putting the pot of coffee back in its rightful place. A sound of surprise managed to escape your lips as he picked you up, carrying you out of the kitchen like you were nothing more than a toddler.

"Wh-Where are we going?" You questioned, blinking stupidly and trying to recover from your slight shock.

"Hmm, not Spain. Sorry, you won't be flipping any burgers today, my little spit-fire." He responded, his tone fluid enough to rival your second-nature sarcasm.

Your lips came together, squirming in his hold as you connected the dots. "I can't go to bed! I still have woooork!" You whined, pushing against him as if that would do anything in his powerful grasp. "I'm not tired!"

"Really? Oh, you could've fooled me." He chuckled, the rumbling of his chest against yours only making sleepy shivers dance through your body.

"I just need some coffee! That's all, c'mon!"

"No more coffee for you. You drank enough to last you a fortnight, yesterday."

He was so warm and comfortable, a much better feeling than any sized mug of coffee you could guzzle down would leave you; your fidgeting had come to a complete stop without you realizing it.

"I just..." You were cut off by a yawn forcing its way out of you. "...just a few more... p-papers..."

"Not today you're not." He chided softly, a hand rubbing tender little circles into your back with heated fingers. You knew that he knew it was only making you more sleepy (not to mention more frustrated) by the second. "You're having a sleep, something proper to eat later and a shower and then you can work and drink all the coffee you want."

Just a few more papers. Just a few more papers.... Just a few more papers.... Just... a few... more...

By the time Esidisi had reached the top of the stairs, your struggle had ceased all together and you had fallen limp in his arms; completely and utterly asleep.

The litany in your head fell silent as your eyelids drooped, losing yourself in the warmth of your Husbands embrace as the swaying of his movement rocked you as he walked along.

So many cheeky things you wanted to say died like flickering embers in your brain, unable to escape your lips this time.

Wamuu:

"Beloved?" The Warrior pushed open the door to your office, peering into the dark room with a frown. "Are you in here?"

"No. I'm on the Moon." Your voice (sounding a little worn but still holding that familiar pinch of playfulness) cut through the dark, coming right from your desk where you were hunched over and drawing away; the dim light from your tablet was the only thing cutting through the shadows of your cave.

He couldn't help but notice it was the exact spot he had left you when he departed early this morning to go do some training.

Warm, golden light shrouded you and your cluttered desk area, making you blink in surprise. You hadn't really realized that it had gotten dark at all and for the briefest of seconds you wondered how late exactly it had gotten; you shook your head quickly as you regained your focus on your work.

Nonetheless, Wamuu smiled softly and entered your workspace. It was an easy feat for the Pillarman to make his way through despite the darkness cloaking the room as he had most excellent night vision.

However, upon reaching your side, he reached over and flicked on your table lamp. He knew that the dark wasn't exactly doing your Human vision much good.

"Thank you." You mumbled, swiping your digital pen across the screen with slow and careful movements.

Wamuu hummed softly, leaning over you with a curious eye to see your work better.

"That looks very nice." He commented, the corners of his full lips tugging into a sweet smile as he admired your handiwork. You never ceased to amaze him with your little drawings and sketches.

You needed to get this piece done by the weekend and you wanted it done today so it could be out of your way. Each slip up of your hand or a line only made you feel more exhausted and more picky, lines overlapped and blurred and you could no longer take in the picture anymore; just your mistakes and its flaws.

A tired sigh escaped your lips, "I just can't get the shading right. I think I've had to redo it 8 times now..." you grumbled, only getting increasingly frustrated at the setback, a hand unconsciously reaching up to scrub at your eye.

Your eyeballs were starting to burn from focusing on the screen too long, a feeling much akin to being rubbed raw with sandpaper.

"Have you been drawing all day?" He questioned, turning his gaze down to the crown of your head with worry.

The Warriors smile fell as he took in your awry state more closely, he definitely didn't miss the umpteen mugs of coffee littering your space (some of which were only half-finished and long gone cold by now).

Did you even move at all while he had been gone? When was the last time you showered? Ate? Changed your clothes?

Really it was the best answer you could give, all you knew was that it was dark and you were sore and tired and your hand was cramping... so it was more than likely you had spent the entirety of the day working.

Once again, your movements stalled before slowly regaining focus, your movements slothy and lacking your usual grace.

"I guess..." you answered lamely.

Again.

Wamuu shook his head, you had been drawing all night last night and you had promised to go to bed after he kissed you goodbye this morning. It was obvious you forgot your promise and kept working.

The drawing tablet was easily plucked from your grasp, making you jump in surprise and reflexively make a grab for it.

"Wamuu-- wha--?!"

"This won't do." He said, quickly hitting the save button on your piece of art as he pulled the tablet further from your reach. "You're done for today."

"What? No! I--" You made an attempt to snatch it back but the hulking man wasn't having any of it, gazing down at you with stern double-ringed emeralds.

For now, he was taking matters into his own hands.

"No. You've worked far too long. Look at you beloved, you've become nothing but a shell!" He chastised, walking past you and placing your tablet on the highest shelf of your office; far, far from your reach.

You would only get it back once you were rested and cared for.

He pushed open the bathroom door with careful ease, not even struggling as he held you and set you down on the toilet.

You were picked up with ease, cradled in the Warriors arms like he was rescuing you from the battlefield as he marched out of the room. Your whines and cries and pleas to be put down went ignored, even as you pounded weakly on his chest.

You had originally thought he was taking your straight to the bedroom to put you down for a sleep but no, he walked right past the room without even a passing glance.

"Sit there." He told you, pressing a tender kiss to your head; the softness of his actions rendering you silent. "Let me handle this."

Your previous protests, your frustrations and any and all thoughts to your work had died all together by the time you two had stripped and were sitting comfortably in the warm scented water.

You blinked, watching him as he puttered around the bathroom; filling the tub with warm water and adding a generous portion of your favorite bathsoap, making a luscious and soothing scent fill the air and your senses.

A warm bath together would do you both some good, he was a little rumpled from training all day himself and you were worn down from your own work. Wamuu always enjoyed washing your hair and bathing together was always a good de-stressor in his eyes.

"You're too persuasive," you remarked, the words coming out as more of a sigh as he combed his fingers through your damp hair.

You hated to admit it but this was just what you needed; you could literally feel all the stress and overwork just washing away with the water rolling over you.

Wamuu chuckled softly, squeezing some of your favourite shampoo into his huge palm. "And You're negligent of your own needs. But don't worry, that's why I'm here..."

Santana:

"You are tired."

"I'm not tired!" You groaned, the exasperation in your voice was short-lived as the corners of your lips quirked up into a teeny grin. "...I'm y/n."

Santana tilted his head, pursing his lips. Usually you would chuckle at his obvious confusion (Santana still couldn't quite grasp puns and dry humor like sarcasm well, despite it being something you used more than often) but today you were too busy to sit down and explain it, let alone spend any time with him.

You still had work to pick at upstairs and judging by how things were going, you weren't going to be done anytime soon.

It didn't help the fact that Santana was becoming increasingly worried about you; he had caught you pouring yourself a bowl of orange juice and a glass of cereal this morning when you begrudgingly trudged downstairs for breakfast. The growling of your stomach neglecting its needs had become too unbearable.

Either way; you weren't going to let the fact you haven't seen a bed (or a fresh change of clothes) in days stop you.

"I just need to get some work done, Santana..." you sighed, emptying the pot of coffee into your mug. "I have a deadline at the end of the week."

"Sleep is for the weak." You replied, bringing the steaming mug to your lips for the first sip.

"You have not slept in days." He pointed out, the deep timber of his voice rumbling around the room. You could feel his eyes staring into your back as you fumbled around the kitchen.

Damn him for being so perceptive.

"Your kind is very weak." Came the immediate and factual response. "You require sleep to function and survive."

Like it or not, he was spitting straight facts.

You nearly choked on the gulp of hot liquid, it burned in your throat as his words hit you. Your mate watched as you opened your mouth and fumbled with a response to conteract that statement; ultimately having nothing.

It was always hard to argue when you felt so sluggish, your brain running just as well as an old windows computer, let alone when Santana stood there blinking so innocently.

You groaned, shuffling out of the room; mug in hand and the migrane you had been trying to rid of slowly regaining its pounding pulse in your temples.

"Oh honey, I'll be fine..." you whined, trying to ignore his eyes still watching you as you began your slothy trek up the stairs. "I may be a 'Primitive lifeform' but I can handle a little work."

The Pillarman watched you go, frowning to himself as you disappeared up the stairs; the hard shut of the door to your office the only sound following your exit.

Your energy was very low, he had only seen you eat a handful of times and it seemed like you were running into walls and doors more often than the average Human lately.

Santana was getting worried.

The hours of the morning ticked bye, eventually Noon rolled around and then passed and you didn't come down for lunch (or more coffee). The primal instincts of protecting you as his mate inevitably kicked in and Santana found himself at the door to your office, peering in with a curious eye.

There he was met with the sight of you slumped over at your desk, your back rising and falling slowly and rhythmically. The sounds of your soft breath hit his sharp ears, even from all the way across the room, and he found himself wandering in, coming right up beside you where you lay crumpled.

You stirred slightly, making his hair stand on end as a groan barely passed your lips before you settled down again, resuming your quiet snoring.

Upon further inspection he found your eyes were closed, cheek smooshed right against the wood of the desk and papers sticking uncomfortably to your face. Even your pen was still gripped in hand.

His eyes skimmed over some loose papers, nothing but meaningless words and numbers scrawled across the white without rhyme and reason to him but always it held some deeper meaning to you; your supposed work.

Your coffee had barely been touched, gone cold and sitting quite forlorn among the foodwrappers and empty water bottles and papers scattered across your workspace. Santana reached for the mug, sniffing curiously at the coal black liquid sloshing around inside. Throughout all the time he had known you, you always had a strange attachment to this drink; you claimed it was what kept you functioning.

Curiosity got the best of him and he brought it to his lips for a taste, wondering the exact appeal of it. He shuddered, growling, almost spitting the shallow mouthful of it out and turning his head away as the bitter and cold liquid overwhelmed his senses as it slipped down his throat...

Disgusting.

He brought the mug to his mouth again, unable to stop himself as he dove in for his second taste; doing the very same thing as before.

Not bad, actually.

The red-haired Pillarman pulled the mug close a third time, throwing his head back gulping back the liquid as if his life depended on it. Licking his lips and blinking rapidly, he cradled the now empty mug to his bare chest as his nostrils flared and toes curled, riding out the waves of it overpowering his senses.

It was so terrible but so good at the same time; so good he didn't want it to end but so terrible he wished the bitter and overpowering aftertaste would leave his tongue.

He turned his attention back to you, with a tilt of his head. You were still sleeping, nonethewiser to his very presence; it was likely you would stay that way for some time.

With only a moments thought he shuffled out of the room quickly, returning just moments later with a blanket and pillow in tow.

You needed your sleep to function, as he had told you, so he would leave you to it as he went downstairs to prepare more of that delicious "coffee" for when you woke.

With all the carefulness in the world, a massive hand slipped under you, lifting your face just inches off the had desk as he slipped the cushy pillow under you and let you down softly.

Gently, he draped the blanket over your back before leaning down, smoothing your hair and pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

He planned on having another mug himself.

Or two mugs.

Or five.

Or maybe three pots worth...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #pillarmen headcanons #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing

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syubub · 3 years

Text

May 13th Reading

Definitely long awaited and way bigger than I intended it to be so buckle up.

Funky disclaimer: this is for entertainment purposes only and not to be taken as fact! This is my interpretation of the cards!

Oh boy. The continuation of yoongis soulmate saga.

(Note frome future me: it's not proofread but I'm hungry. Sorry for mistakes!)

So so so so

Let's start.

I started with all the normal jazz. Connecting with his energy and shit. Same as usual same old same old. Platform= same same. I was like, "hey, let's talk about your soulmate and the whole may 13th shit" and we connected via energy stringy thing to the forehead and such. I was intresting bc my end of the string was kinda my energy color! Neato. Looks like some rest has really done me good!

Okay, here's where I start actually asking shit. I made notes at this point before the reading as I usually do. I'm just gonna insert the screen shot here.

The 14 thing really fucked me up. You'll see later. Also, when I got the whole Pisces Jupiter thing I had to do me some googling bc we established that Jupiter went into Pisces ON May 13th so I was like?? Am I missing something?

I was. I forgot that it goes retrograde and then co.es back to Pisces on December 28th. And I do indeed think it to be significant.

The shit about temperance makes a lot of sense. In yoongis first soulmate read I flipped my shit bc he was like, "You're gonna get temperance reverse" in regards to a card for his soulmate and I was like "pft whatever. Don't play me like that"

And then I got temperance reverse. It's been a significant card from the jump.

I asked him if he had any advice for his soulmate and that's what "Don't wait for big things, you'll miss the small ones that lead you to bigger things" and "Look for facts before assuming" and "Don't try pushing it, forcing it won't make sense" and "A spade is a spade/ ace is an ace" and "Don't make ill informed guesses" all were

Now this part:

"Union has happened , yet to on the physical"

Gave me some hints thankfully because he straight up said no more hints.

This ties back into the whole Jupiter thing too. The seeds are/ have been planted and now they have to grow before they can be harvested.

Well Mr. Yoongi, I'm impatient and I don't want to wait. I want to see you in love pronto.

Anyways

He showed me a little dream box/ trinket box looking thing and a super vague Keychain with no further explanation... so... there's that I guess.

I can't quite decide if "Don't make ill informed guesses" was a tongue-in-cheek pike at me or if it was genuine advice to his soulmate? He just loves to not explain things.

Now let's begin the monster read.

So. The first row of cards

I asked the question, "what the fuck was May 13th and what was it's purpose in regards to your connection"

Important is what it was lol. I interpret this as them finding their footing and this being the starting point of the genuine foundation being layer. Like they've been manifesting eachother for a while but May 13th marked the start of them making the real life changes in their actual lives that will be the set up for them meeting.

The seven of coins is about thoughtful planning and creating security/ stable plan. The tower is essentially ripping away anything and everything that was built on unstable foundation and challenging/ testing your character (an extremely rude awakeing if you will). Judgement is releasing the past so you can rise above it and confronting yourself as you are (Also legit awakening) the queen of coins is financial security and self confidence in your abilities. Ten of coins is prosperity and abundance and most of all, stability. Eight of wands is explosion of potential and rapid movement. Temperance is awareness and balance between physical and spiritual. It's also that quiet peace where you find balance.

So. Seeing all those cards it really does seem like maybe his soulmate took on something new that could lead straight to union? Same for yoongi. I'd like to analyze and recent or new-ish habits or hobbies he's picked up?

Moving right along though. I asked what the 13th did for each of them in their personal life and personal journey. Kinda like what came as a result of that energy? Let's start with yoongles

This was really intresting to me. I think he definitely gained some form of clarity about the situation with that sun card. The 5 of cups tells me that either he was kinda forced to confront some of his flaws in a way that he was trying to avoid or he had to consciously let go of something dear to him? Could be something he had to leave behind because it crumbled with the tower moment but he didn't see it coming or didn't know that it was time to part with it? With that queen of wands though fits beautifully with the sun! Its like he's found warmth after a long winter. Definitely found a spark of compassion and generosity from a place of happiness and love rather than anger, fear, obligation or pitty.

I asked for clarity cards/ anything else that may 13th signified bringing in and we got the 2 of cups and 10 of swords. I have two thoughts. Either he let go of a relationship that he was already in because he didn't feel as though they were particularly compatible anymore (Also ties into the above section) OR the 13th had made him very much consciously aware of his soulmates incoming status and he is now preparing and working on himself for when this person comes. The 10 of swords would be him releasing the past and the pain and any ill fitting behavior that don't vibe with him any longer. Yellow really seems to be working for him by the way.

Soulmate time

Lol. All signs point to his soulmate genuinely starting a new venture. New creative pursuit that will bring them good money. 10 of pentacles is abundance, prosperity and stability. The ace of wands is a new creative spark and passion and it's the first big steps into something new. The 2 of wands is "the world is in the palm of your hands" vibes. Choices need to be made swiftly and with the ace of wands I think they will be. With the heirophant too, it will be a well informed decision because they've been manifesting this and has been searching for all the possible information.

As for clarity, we have the moon. Damn. Soulmates been doing that shadow work. Dredging up all their bullshit and getting rid of it while still taking the time to sit with it and release it so nothing is unresolved. Also probably extra creative due to all the emotional baggage being thrown out. (Definitely helping with the ace of wands vibes tbh)

Now for the bad boys in the middle

The question I asked is what those individual changes (detailed in the last two sections) will bring for the bond and I just can with them. These fuckers. I am so invested in their love story bc it's so... them? And just so fucking ROMANTIC. UGH I CAN'T.

Back to the point. High priestess, 4 of wands and the lovers. The high priestess is deep knowing and insane intuition, the 4 of wands is the purest joy and marriage and the lovers is well, the lovers.a magical union.

FUCK DUDE I NEED THIS TO BE A ROMCOM.

For the row of bottom cards

I asked if they had anything at all to add so I'm gonna explain each card individually bc I think they could be individual tid bits of shit.

Knight of coins is good news about finances/ money looking promising and organized work (also dependability!!). Death is all about transformation, the beginning of a new chapter and accepting in order to move foward. Ace of coins is spiritual and material abundance and also a reminder to keep grounded. Page of swords is confidence, important news coming and really good insight! Roots out secrets or hidden things like a truffle pig. The star is promising potential, healing and guidance from an enexpected place. The two of cups is a soul connection, love, intuition especially in regards to another person and a good bind. The emperor is self awareness, foresight, fearlessness to achieve a goal and confidence. Eight of coins rev is poor discipline and skating by on low effort.

Now to the sides!

Yoongi is the left, soulmate is the right.

So, let's begin with yoongi. The first two cards are anything he wants to say to his soulmate. Wheel of fortune and three of swords reverse. I take this as "its all in divine time/ it's destiny" (wheel of fortune) and "trust your intuition. It's okay to get hurt, you just need to remember you can always pick yourself up" (3of swords rev.)

We have now cards that I asked what he was learning through this process/ in this time. Be positive and first step.

The last two cards are affirmations he wants to give his soulmate.

"When I introduce joy to a situation, I change the vibrational frequency of what's happening around me" and "directing my focus onto what's thriving creates more of what I want"

Now for soulmates cards (same structure)

Strength and eight of swords. "You're stronger than you think. Take every part of yourself and acknowledge it. You're a force to be reckoned with" (strength) and (soulmate snapped at him on this) "the only thing holding you captive is you."

Now we have peer pressure (I think soulmate is learning to say "fuck you" and "fuck off" to people who have a set idea of how everyone should be living their lives), emotional healing and open your arms to receiving.

Then we have "its good to feel good" (lol I feel like yoongi definitely needs this one) and "when I connect to the spiritual realm, I open the door to recieve divine guidance, clear direction, and great wisdom"

The last stretch my friends.

So. Completion, leave behind the things that no longer serve you. Exist in the present and don't keep mulling over the past or any future happenings. Magic, pay attention to the magic around you. Listen for the signs of the universe and take them as they come (essentially listen to divine guidance) . Be open minded but logical as well. Luminous warrior, try focusing on the good in yourself instead of berating yourself for every small flaw. Spiritual path, self explanatory. The blade, your power can be a weapon when used willy nilly (most often wounding the wielder) or it can heal. Don't fear it but also consider how you choose to utilize it. The give away, be greaful for the sake of being greatful for it, not because you want something in return. The rain maker, manifestation station. Create with the tools you have because you have everything you need in order to manifest. "Don't take life personally"

Now we have heaven sent.

""Let yourself be helped" assistance is coming your way so act on it and say yes"

" This Oracle also comes with the message that you are to trust in the things that you feel and say to others without knowing why. It moves them. You might not understand, but through trust you are allowing yourself not to overthink and censor yourself. As such you are able to become a vessel through which the spiritual gift can be passed on to others. Don't block yourself. Let life happen through you. Only benefit can come from this."

And free from judgment, free to love

" If you have been asking life for a solution to a specific difficulty you have been having, this Oracle comes with the message that a solution is in gestation right now. This situation is already being sorted out and the resolution will come to fruition very soon. Hold tight and wait for the eminent birth of that resolution."

" This Oracle also brings you a message about love. You may find that you are loving, or soon will love, in a different way. You may worry about this love, given that it defies what you have known or been taught about love. Perhaps you are becoming able to love another tremendously, even though you don't have much of a personal relationship with them. You might question if this love is real. It is real Kama it is just happening at a different level to the love and attachment you experience when you are involved in a personal relationship with someone. It is not more or less, it is just a different facet of love. It may be that you are opening up to love the planet and her creatures, including the animals, the ocean dwelling life, your own body, the trees and so on, more than before period you may feel passionately purposeful about giving your time and energy to causes that protect and nurture the Earth and her creatures. You are affirmed in this love too. The universal mother is operating through you to nurture life. She will support you in your work, so that you can continue To come from love and not become drained, depleted or lost in despair or fear of futility. Instead, you will be energised and expanded by your dedicated service to life."

" Finally, this Oracle has a message for those who may be feeling alone or lonely in a need of greater nurturing from others. You are asked to stop, relax, centre and settle into your body to feel your connection with life itself. The air in your lungs is the same as the air that moves through the trees. The water in your blood is the same water that fills the oceans and is moved by the phases of the moon. The flesh of your body is the same substance as the body of the Earth itself. The heat in your digestive system is the same fire and heat as that from the Sun. Feel this connection, then do something nice for another without agenda. Make a donation, even if just a small one, smile, say a prayer, sent out a good thought or make a wish for another. That's it. You have connected to life again and in doing so, life can connect with you. And so it shall.

And that's all for the cards but but but.

Someone (either my guide or yoongi) was like, "do a song. Do a song. Do a song." And I was like, "oki doki, sounds good.

So I asked what numbers I should try refreshing and then it hit me. The number 14 came up before the reading and it seemed a bit misplaced? So I did 14 shuffles and look what popped up

You gotta be fucking with me.

Istg these fools will actually be the death of me dude. Euphoria is so romantic and I lowkey feels like it describes a bit of what their bond must be like.

YOONGGGIIII

Anyway,

I came back to the platform to be like, "thanks homie" and it was weird bc he was practically pure energy? Like usually I visualize his energy as what his physical body looks like because it's easier to comprehend? But nope, he was just a big shimmery glob of energy.

As I was going to disconnect, a few things happened. I felt tingly and the platform was vibrating almost? So I was like, "hold on, what the fuck is this?"

And then

It hit me

"MIN YOONGI IS YOUR SOULMATE HERE??"

I could tell this fuckin asshole was smug even in his blue glob form.

The color was... blue like yoongi but also a light lavender/ pink kinda vibe. Pretty damn distinct.

I was so stoked and I thought we'd all get to chat and I could yell at his soulmate for being an elusive asshat

But Mr smug butt had different plans.

My dude dropped a little marble thing in my hand and I was like ??? And he was like, "you'll know when you need it" and I was like ?????

My guide took pity on me and said, "it's just a representation on information that you've been given but it isn't the proper time to unpack it yet"

Cool cool so like and energetic zip file that will release itself whenever it damn well pleases? Cool cool cool.

(Asshole)

Anyway, I genuinely think that my excitement of this whole situation must somehow also influence how yoongis energy handles my prodding? Like what the fuck is this marble bullshit?

To top it all off, he gives me a friendly shove off of his platform.

Thanks, buddy.

Now we are here. And as always, I'm left with more questions.

My main take away is that amay 13th through July 28th will be all the foundation and ground work and December 28th 2021 through May 10th (11th? 9th?) 2022 will be a more likely time for physical union and actual relationship stuffs.

Anyone who knows more about astrology please feel free to chime in on this whole Jupiter in Pisces bit! My understanding is super surface level!!

~~~~

That was a big boi and now my thumbs hurt real bad. Hope you were entertained by the chaos.

#bts #bts tarot #bts reactions #yoongi #bts imagines #bts readings #yoongi imagine #bts suga #min suga #suga #min yoongi

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tamagoincident · 3 years

Photo

To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 1/10

link: AO3

Chapter One - A Mutual Enemy

On the evening you first heard of the Van der Linde Gang’s presence in Valentine, you stood at the bar of Smithfield's Saloon disguised in men’s clothing. Not a typical Friday for you, as you tried not to make it a habit of sticking around places where reckless men became more reckless the further they disappeared into their cups. But years ago you’d helped the bartender, a giant man named Ernest, drum up enough money to pay off his debtors, and he held you in the highest of regards ever since. It was the only place you could drink without being disturbed. Ernest made sure of that.

“What’ll it be, the usual?” he winked at you, his large hands already reaching toward the whiskey.

You smiled and nodded.

“I have information you might want to hear,” he continued, pouring the liquor into a glass and sliding it towards you. You caught it easily.

“Oh?”

“There was a young lady here last night. Overheard her talkin’ to some fancy pants New Yorker who kept braggin’ ‘bout the luxury train he’ll be taking back to the North. She seemed awfully intrigued,” Ernest said. “And get this, it weren’t the only instance I’d seen her, neither. Few days ago she’d been traipsin’ around the outskirts of Valentine with a bunch of scary lookin’ out-of-towners.”

“Figure they’re planning on robbing the train?”

Ernest shrugged. “It’s easy pickin’. You know how naïve high society can be.”

Maybe easy enough for a one-person job, if done quickly and with care. You’d only robbed a train once with two people you used to run with. You didn’t run with them anymore. It hurt you to think of it.

You held up your glass for a refill and leaned forward, brimming with interest. “Tell me more about this train.”

—

The train tracks rattled underneath Arthur’s feet.

“Get movin’,” he said to Sean, pointing towards the trees hidden in the darkness. Arthur climbed atop the wagon they’d rode in on and placed in the middle of the tracks, which bore five hundred gallons of oil. He widened his stance for balance and pulled a bandana over his mouth and nose. “Here she comes.”

Arthur squinted against the blinding brightness of the incoming headlight, cocking his rifle as it approached. The train’s horn bellowed into the night.

It saw him. Good.

It came to a hissing and screeching halt. A uniformed man stormed out from the front cab. “What's goin' on here? What's—aw hell,” the engineer wailed, kicking the dirt underneath his feet. “Not again! Gettin’ real tired of this shit.” Behind him, a shadow of blurred movement. Charles, ready to strike him unconscious.

Arthur jumped off the wagon. “Hold it!” he yelled to Charles, who paused his assault and instead restrained the man with a pistol aimed at his head. “What d’you mean, ‘Not again?’”

“If y’all are trying to rob us, we’ve already been hit,” he wheezed.

“You’re bluffin’.”

“You and your boys are more than welcome to board and check. Reckon it’s a waste of time though.”

Arthur swore. “Let him go, Mr. S.”

Charles let go. The engineer stumbled forward, sputtering and coughing. In between heavy breaths he said, “Happened near the Heartlands. Strange feller in a mask robbed us blind and then pointed a shotgun at me, gruntin’ at me to start the engine or he’ll call for his gang to kill everyone on board.”

“Why in God’s name would he do that?” Arthur said.

“Beats me. But now that I think of it, he was probably expecting y’all. Here, he gave me this—” he moved to reach into his coat pocket, but ceased upon the chorus of rifles cocking. Sean and John had appeared to find what the holdup was.

“Don’t move a goddamn muscle,” Arthur growled. “Mr. S., if you could kindly grab whatever’s in that fool’s pocket.”

Charles complied, plucking out a wad of paper. He handed it to Sean, who read aloud:

Don’t want the loot, only your attention.

Have your lady informant go back to the saloon and talk to the bartender.

He’ll tell you where to find me.

Cause any trouble and you won’t see a cent.

Sean laughed bitterly, waving the note in the air. “Got us good, didn't he?”

“Give me that, you idiot.” Arthur snatched the note and tilted the lettering towards the train's headlight. “Goddamn it—”

A bullet whizzed by Arthur’s head. The engineer dove to the ground for safety.

“Get on your horses!” Arthur yelled to the gang and whistled. Once in the saddle, he spurred the horse on and rode hard into the trees, past the storm of bullets, and evaded capture.

He was the last to arrive back at camp, after making sure he hadn’t been followed. He passed Dutch’s closed tent and found Sean blackout drunk near the fire. John sat close by, clearly on the same trajectory as the Irishman, with the amount of empty beer bottles at his feet. Arthur cleared his throat. “Where’s Charles?”

John glanced up, eyes bleary and lined with red. In the firelight he looked small and exhausted. “Asleep.”

“You should be too.”

“Well, I ain’t,” John mumbled tipping the beer to his lips and draining it. He tossed the bottle aside with a crash.

“Need me to tuck you in Marston? How ‘bout a bedtime story?”

“Real funny, Arthur."

Arthur sat down across from John, allowing the sound of crickets and snuffling horses to fill the silence between them. When he spoke, his tone was softer. “Don’t think I’ve seen you this shaken. Not even when you was freezin’ your ass off after them wolves got to you.”

John’s gaze dropped to his lap. “I’m a bit rattled, s’all. I got a bad feelin’, Arthur.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think the law showed up a little too fast?”

“Maybe,” Arthur said. “I’m more curious about the son-of-a-bitch who knew we was gonna rob that train.” He turned, pulling the note he’d stashed into his saddlebag and brandishing it.

“See? You’re worried too. S’not just me.”

“I’m not worried,” Arthur cast the notion aside. No use in admitting to being worried unless there was really something to lose sleep over, especially in front of John, who looked like he was fixing for an excuse to leave again. Arthur didn’t want to be the person to give him one. He would gladly take a bullet before he watched Abigail’s face twist back into sorrow and disappointment on account of John flying the coop.

“We gonna be okay, Arthur?” John asks.

“Can’t tell the future anymore than you can, Marston,” Arthur said, crumpling the note in his fist. “What we can do is find the bastard who pulled the wool over our eyes, and deal with the rest as it comes along. I’ll talk to Mary-Beth tomorrow. Ask her to go back up to the saloon.”

John watched as Arthur tossed the paper into the fire, the edges curling into black.

—

You waited across the tracks from the abandoned trading post in Roanoke Ridge, taking shelter behind a sturdy tree (you’d almost hid behind one crawling with poison ivy vines, what a sight that would have been). The instructions you’d given Ernest to pass on had been clear: Whoever is sent must be on time and arrive alone. You checked your pocket watch. Already a half hour late. Out of desperation you remained a few minutes longer. The sun was almost at its peak in the sky, and you were getting hot with your scarf obscuring the lower half of your face. You cursed yourself for wearing such bulky trousers and long sleeves.

In your mind, the heist had been preferable to wasting away in the heat. With a little theater and luck, you managed to rob the train heading north. You still couldn’t believe your good fortune. Keeping your voice low and husky, the passengers and engineer had mistaken you for some hardened outlaw. You’d threatened them with your non-existent gang that was supposedly trailing close behind. In reality, the only thing riding alongside the train was the horse you’d borrowed from Ernest.

You scanned the landscape with binoculars, on the precipice of calling it a day, when you saw a pair of figures ascend the hill behind the dilapidated structure. The taller of the two was wearing a fading grey shirt that you imagined was once white, which stretched across his broad shoulders. He staked a far contrast to the companion at his left, a leaner man with dark hair that extended past a deep scar on his cheek. Both looked tough and mean. Exactly the type of men you’d hoped for.

Though two against one, the odds weren’t good if things went south.

You dropped the binoculars and reached for your rifle. Steadying yourself, you squinted through the scope, drifting down the length of their bodies until their dusty leather boots came into view. You cocked the gun, exhaled, and took the shot, aiming inches away from them.

“Shit!”

“Thought I’d said to come alone,” you called out. “If one of you gentlemen doesn’t get going, the next two bullets will be right in the forehead.”

“Jesus Christ,” the dark-haired man yelped. “Is that a woman shooting at us?”

“Woman or not, doesn’t change the fact she’s got a goddamn rifle!” the other fired back. “Alright, miss, my friend here is gonna get on his horse and leave. Ain’t that right, Marston?”

“Rode all the way out here for nothin’,'' he complained loudly and whistled. When his horse came around, he placed his foot in the stirrups and swung his leg over the saddle. “If you ain’t back by sundown, I’ll come lookin’ for you, Arthur. Hear that, lady?”

Arthur waved a dismissive hand. You waited until the horse disappeared behind the hills before coming out from the brush. At this distance, you could discern more of his features. The first of which you noticed were bright blue eyes that writers and painters alike had mused over for centuries.

He directed them at you. “There,” he said. “Happy?”

You lowered your rifle. “We’re off to a poor start, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t want no trouble. Just didn’t know what we was walkin’ into,” he said, moving closer, hands up slightly as if to not appear threatening. “You were real vague in that note of yours.”

You reaffirmed your grip on your rifle. “That’s close enough,” you said. Any closer and he’d eclipse you, your neck within snapping distance of those strong hands.

“Then, how about you tell me how this is gonna go?”

In the days leading to this moment, you’d thought of the ways you were going to approach this. Never did you imagine getting this far. “Do you have any idea why I may have invited you here?”

“To gloat, perhaps? About beatin’ us to that train?”

An involuntary upward twitch at the corner of your mouth. “Not quite, sir. I value my time and yours, so I’ll keep it short. I need you.”

Arthur pointed to himself. “You... need me?”

“Yes, you.”

He dipped his head, obscuring whatever expression he was making beneath the brim of his hat. Rubbing his neck, Arthur said, “Can’t imagine why you’d need me, lady. Accountin’ for the fact you don’t even know me.”

“I’ll rephrase. It’s not you I need exactly, it’s somebody like you. And your friend, for that matter.” You paused. “I used to have partners, too. One is dead, the other is in need of rescue. She was kidnapped. I want to hire you to help get her back.”

“Why not go to the sheriff? Seems a hell of a lot easier than getting up to all this trouble.”

“The sheriff?” you scoffed. “You really think he’d risk himself and his men to help me save a working girl from outlaws? Most likely he’d look into my background, and then I’d be arrested before I could even blink.”

“So all we gotta do is save your friend from her kidnappers and what, you’ll pay us?”

“You’ll get the money from the train, and I’ll throw in seventy dollars on top of that,” you said.

“What’s the catch?”

“Pardon me?”

“The catch,” Arthur repeated. “Seems too easy.”

“Didn’t say it’d be easy. Are you familiar with the O’Driscoll Boys?”

A spark of recognition. He was, in fact, familiar. “Yeah, I heard of ‘em. Your friend Emma… them boys captured her?”

You nodded. “A former client of hers runs with that gang. He found us in a hotel room, shot Henry, and knocked me out. When I came to, Emma was gone, and I was alone.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be glad to help,” he said. “You see, there’s someone I’d need to run this by and he’s already got it out for their leader, Colm O’Driscoll. This’d be the perfect excuse for him to do something goddamn stupid.”

“Please. If you’re familiar with them, you can imagine how awful it must be for her. I’ll even give you half the money upfront,” you said, decocking your rifle and slipping it back over your shoulder by its leather strap.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll talk it over with some people tonight. Meet me at that saloon in two days, same time. If it goes in your favor, I’ll take you to see the man who makes all the decisions.”

“Are you going to make me wait again?” you asked.

“You’re the one asking for favors, miss.”

“I’m offering a job.”

Arthur’s lips set into a hard line. “A job that might get us into a world of trouble, adding fuel to a fire that’s been burnin’ for a long time now. Frankly, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

And because you didn’t want to push your luck, you fell silent. You watched him call for his horse and mount it.

“I’ll be on time,” he mumbled as an afterthought, and rode off in the direction he came.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 ao3 #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan/reader #tlab

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milstrim · 3 years

Text

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 1: Hand in My Pocket

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter's not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he'd always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn't want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

—-

The red glare of the setting sun set the City That Never Sleeps in a persistent glow as the last of the golden rays disappeared behind the pillars of the city, outlining every shadow. There was the silhouette of buildings, of cars racing along the road, of people stalking down the street in the usual New York bustle, and there was the shadow of Spider-Man as he swung overhead. Not that it was really his shadow.

Where there should have been a perfect replica of the boy clinging to a web as he dipped low (one that outlined his lumpy goggles and rumpled suit) there was instead the poofiness of fluffed up hair and sharp slacks. The movements of the shadow replicated the boy, like they were supposed to, but nothing else indicated that this shadow belonged to the vigilante swinging through the street.

And Peter liked it that way.

Observing the difference between people's shadow had always been a game to the boy, to watch a thin woman walk around while a curvy figure followed her, or too see a little boy being tracked by the silhouette of a tutu and puffy hair. Until very recently, the teenager had loved to stare at his Aunt and Uncle's shadows whenever he could, always fascinated by the way they reflected each other with a broad smile on his face.

Now, though, neither of them had shadows, and Peter didn't smile as often. He didn't feel like there was much reason to. It had been his fault, after all. His fault they'd never get to see flashes of each other when their shadows disappeared in the dark, his fault they'd never walk under the sun with their shadows in line with the other. It was his fault they'd bled out in an alley so dark their shadows hadn't even been there to comfort them as they left.

Spider-Man rattled an anxious, forced breath through his tight lungs as he propelled himself upwards on his webs. He instinctively looked for the taped together watch he kept on his webshooter to catch the time, though he knew he had plenty. Still, after his last time missing curfew at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, he wasn't anxious to repeat the experience. And he did have to swing across the bridge to make his way back to Queens since he'd branched out to Manhattan for the night.

The cracked watch read that it was barely seven, though, so Peter still had a few hours before he had to be back. Mr. Fowler didn't care much what they did as long as they were back before ten, unless it was one of his "days," which really just meant he was as drunk as a skunk and completely willing to smack a few boys upside their head and be unreasonably dickish about the rules. But other than that, Peter was usually left to his own devices to patrol around the streets of his city and try everything in his power to make up for what had happened barely six months ago.

But it would never be enough.

Peter stopped on top of a billboard that clung to the side of a building, landing clumsily and only barely managing to slip his fingers around the poster for a new movie. His world swam--just a little bit--as he regained his bearings. He shook his head at the dizziness that had become a constant ever since moving to live at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, but it wasn't like it was their fault. All the boys were reasonably well-cared for, with regular mealtimes, a generous curfew, and easy access to schools, but they weren't really equipped to deal with Peter.

The teenager held back a sigh as his stomach grumbled painfully. He'd eaten the last of his stash of granola bars that he'd bought after a tourist he'd helped had forced a few bills on him. He didn't like taking money, but he couldn't deny that those bars had helped for the two weeks that he'd made them stretch.

Forcing down a hungry grumble of annoyance, Peter turned to survey his shadow instead, the one that had always been the same. Ever since he could remember. Even when he'd been in kindergarten, there'd been the tall and protective shadow of his soulmate behind him. Despite everything, and despite how selfish it felt, it was comforting to look down and see that familiar crop of hair. He reached a hand up to touch his head, never quite used to the way his fingers brushed up against cloth but the shadow underneath him swept through fluffed up tufts.

His soulmate's hair today was messy, not as poofed up as it usually was. Today must be a casual day for him or something, which weren't very often, but when they did occur they often lasted for days. Other days he could make out the outline of glasses and the sharp angles of clothing that made him think of a business suit, though he couldn't be sure. They were only a shadow after all. Peter wondered what his soulmate thought about his own shadow, if he'd noticed anything odd, but, then again, Peter's shadow probably just looked like he was wearing a hoodie all the time, and maybe what could pass as some pretty obnoxious glasses. He'd used to have those anyway.

Peter tilted his head, enjoying the way the hair on the sidewalk underneath him flopped with him. For some reason, Peter found it very amusing when one had hair showing and the other didn't. It just looked a little ridiculous. Recently, it had been the teenager who had been donning the hoodie over his head, but Peter assumed that his soulmate was usually wearing something too. More often than not, he'd look down to see the hair gone, covered by a sharp outline that really had him questioning his soulmate's fashion sense.

The thought brought a snicker to his lips. He nestled more comfortably atop the billboard. There hadn't been any good action in a while anyway.

"Where do you think we should go next?" he asked aloud, and he didn't know if he was asking himself or the shadow of his soulmate underneath. He didn't know why, but he'd always felt like they'd give really good advice. "There hasn't really been much going on, and I haven't seen any of those alien-weapon guys since the knock-off Avengers robbed that bank. Maybe we could try and find out whoever you are again. That'd be kind of fun."

'Kind of fun.' Yeah, right. It was the only thing Peter looked forward to anymore.

Before, he'd always been excited to graduate, to go through college and apply to Stark Industries, his Aunt and Uncle's smiles egging him on the entire way. He'd looked forward to band and robotics and, while he'd stayed, decathlon too. It wasn't as fun as it had been before, but Ned was still there. Liz too. They were nice, and it was good to see their smiles and hear their occasional pitying encouragement that usually only pissed him off (not that he'd ever let them know, they were just trying to help after all), but they weren't what Peter was looking for.

Then again, Peter wasn't 100% he knew what he was looking for either.

He was pretty sure his soulmate was something to look forward to. Ben and May had always described what it felt like to find your soulmate, to be able to stare at shadows your entire life until you found who you were looking for. You would touch their hand and your shadows would switch, and when you let go, the shadow remained to your universe approved bond again. The satisfaction of finally piecing together the flashes you got whenever both shadows disappeared into the darkness. It was something Aunt May and Uncle Ben had always enticed him about, always encouraged.

Maybe if he could find his soulmate, everything would be better. Everything would be perfect, like May and Ben had always proclaimed.

But that was childish, and Peter knew it. Soulmates didn't fix everything, and meeting his soulmate certainly wouldn't improve his situation. They were a regular person with a regular life. He was a second-rate vigilante that had been orphaned twice. Besides, nothing could really help Peter. Not that he needed help. He just needed to grow out of the system so he could make something that actually felt like life rather than the scraping by that it had become.

By the time Peter moved from his spot, it was because his shadow had dimmed with the entrance of New York darkness. He stood up, barely able to make out the faintness of his soulmate, and flicked his wrist out. He still had a little bit before he had to be back at the group home, so he reckoned he'd be fine. He'd be back in time that Mr. Fowler wouldn't give him another strike and he could still eat dinner. He'd do his homework, go to bed, and the next day would be the same horrible numbness of before.

"Any ideas on where the best crime is, Matey?" he asked his shadow, "Maybe superpowers can leech over to soulmates. That'd be really cool actually. Soulologists haven't been able to prove anything other than memory flashes. We could break that entire field of study if that were true."

His soulmate, of course, didn't answer. But the scuffle of a fight and a warped sound unlike anything the teenager had ever heard, did.

---

Tony glanced around his emptying lab, a tired glint in his eyes as he did. Large portions of the tower had been emptied and organized into large crates as they anticipated the move from the tower to the compound. Most of his lab had stayed the same throughout the process, as staff weren't allowed up here, leaving it mostly up to the billionaire himself to pack up his things. Glancing around at the piles of disheveled work and unfinished projects, he might have to get some help anyway. Or, if he started packing now, he'd have plenty of time to do it by himself.

He turned back to the suit he was working on.

The horribly challenging nanoparticles as part of his newest suit were barely coming together. It was incredibly difficult, which made it the most fun thing he'd worked on in a while, which also meant he'd been working on it for two days straight. It was a good thing Pepper was working in another country at the moment and wasn't there to make him go to bed or take a break or anything worthless like that. Then again, he guessed Pepper wasn't the only one with the power to do that.

"Sir," Friday started, "You are approaching your extent of working without a break. I suggest you go to sleep."

"I'm almost done, girl," he replied at the same moment the gauntlet he was working on sparked. He hissed in pain as he withdrew his newly burnt fingers, his vision swimming slightly. He blinked furiously to clear the dark spots from his sight. "Okay, maybe a break isn't such a bad idea."

"Great choice, sir."

"Don't patronize me," he scolded, grabbing a nearby jacket to throw over his stained shirt and a pair of sunglasses despite the late hour, "I'm taking a break, not going to sleep. Keep the lab running for me, I'm gonna go grab a coffee."

"Might I suggest a calming tea instead?"

"You most certainly may not."

Tony stepped into the brightly lit elevator, staring down at his shadow as he usually did when he was alone. The sight of the usual hoodie brought a smile to his face. His soulmate must have a hoodie addiction as strong as his coffee one, though he usually preferred whenever he could see the kid's curly hair before it was eventually tamed down by what he guessed was a godly amount of hair gel.

His soulmate had turned fifteen recently, he knew. August tenth was the first day he'd had a shadow, one of a tiny baby curled up at his feet. He remembered fondly what it had felt like to look down one random morning and see the dark blob at his feet, the confusion and the joy as he'd realized it moved with him. After thirty-one years, a soulmate of his very own.

He'd loved to watch them grow through their shadows, though his favorite was the little snippets he'd get of their life. Like for everyone else, they were very rare, especially in the bright cities he was accustomed to living in. There was always just a little bit of light somewhere in New York, but he remembered vividly the little snatches he'd managed to get from his soulmate's life when both of their shadows faded into a shade of the dark completely.

A deeply nerdy room with Star Wars posters. The bustling streets of a city. And, more recently, dark alleyways that had made him more than a little nervous. His soulmate was only a kid after all, but it was a bit hypocritical for him to be any kind of judgmental after his own teenage years, and it wasn't like he could do anything.

Other than what he was doing now.

The flashes of the streets he'd seen in his soulmate visions had reminded him deeply of New York (though they could just as easily have been from another city in the States), so Tony had made the effort to go out more whenever he could. Usually he couldn't stay for long, he was pretty busy after all. Still, local coffee shops and street vendors had become frequented by Tony Stark as he'd searched. He knew it was a little ridiculous to parade around the streets of New York City in the hopes that he would stumble upon his soulmate, but after everything that had happened with the team, he could at least try to throw in a little optimism.

The mechanic blinked out thoughts of the broken team as the elevator opened on the empty bottom floor, making his way through the darkly lit lobby and out the door into the streets. Street lamps were lit brightly, and, coupled by the headlight of cars and the alternating colors of traffic light, his soulmate was able to walk alongside Tony as he crossed the road and began down the sidewalk.

"Any recommendations for a good coffee shop, my little shadow?" Tony asked his soulmate. The people on the street paid him no mind, not that it was unusual for people to talk to their shadows. "If you do live around here, you must have at least a few recommendations. Well, I guess you are a kid, but I drank plenty of caffeine when I was your age, so."

He shrugged to himself, stopping at a street corner and pursing his lips as he thought. He'd really only explored Manhattan when looking for his soulmate, but walking across the bridge into Brooklyn and Queens would take much too long. He did want to get back to his project after all.

Tony made a turn, resolving to just find whatever new café he could. Maybe he'd explore Brooklyn or Harlem after the move. Or maybe Queens, he had been wanting to try and meet that Spider-Kid for a while anyway. He'd thought he'd had an opportunity when Rogers and his merry band had taken Barnes and left in Germany, but everything had gone by just too quick and he didn't even know the guy's identity. Not for lack of trying. The guy was pretty good at avoiding cameras, it almost made Tony jealous.

The billionaire walked for about fifteen minutes, passing by every coffee shop he'd already been to in search of a new one. There were plenty in Manhattan, but Tony had been to so many at this point it was a little ridiculous. He stopped, ready to pull out his phone and see where the nearest one he could find was, when he caught sight of a man out of the corner of his eye.

He frowned. How long had that man been following him? A few blocks at least, he recognized that green jacket from when he'd passed by Beany Business.

The light turned from an orange hand to a white silhouette, and Tony hurried across the street. He hadn't brought any kind of weapons with him, and he really wasn't in the mood to cause some kind of scene. If he was quick, he could probably lose this guy and still get to his coffee shop without some kind of annoying disturbance.

Tony allowed himself to be swept up in the crowd of late-goers, moving with them quickly. He let that crowd trickle by and joined another, and then joined one more of a drunk afterparty before finally slipping down an alleyway when he could no longer see the green jacket. He blinked in surprise as he caught sight of a coffee shop just across the street, bright red letters reading 'The Coffee Club.'

He smiled. Perfect.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he strolled down the alleyway towards the cheap looking café. And then a figure stepped in the entrance, blocking the view from across the street and slapping Tony's easygoing smile off of his face.

The billionaire immediately tensed as his eyes roamed over the green jacket, the covered face, and finally the gun pointed towards him. His eyebrow raised as his gaze rested on the weapon that wasn't really a gun. It was splayed out like a robotic arm, shiny and just a little bit clunky but clearly dangerous.

"Hands in the air, Stark," the man ordered. Slowly, he followed the man's orders. "Phone and glasses on the floor. Now."

"I'm gonna have to move my hands for that," Tony snarked. The man gave him a slight snarl.

"Just do it. Slowly. And throw them over here."

"Sure," he agreed, fishing his phone out of his pocket and taking his glasses off of his face before letting them clatter to the ground. The man kept the robotic gun trained on him as he grabbed the devices, placing them in a pocket in the thick of his jacket. Tony frowned. "So, what is this? A kidnapping? Taking my wallet? Genuinely interested."

"I've been watching you for a while, Stark," the man said, "You go out at night a lot. I knew it'd only be a matter of time before I could get what I want from you."

"And I would love to know what that is. As well as where you got that neat little arm-gun there. Is that Sokovian?"

"Shut up, Stark. I don't need your snark, just some information, and I'll take your wallet too."

"Mind leaving me enough cash for a coffee?"

The gun cocked. "What did I just say?"

"Hmm, I forgot."

"Very funny."

"Thanks, I thought so too," Tony joked. "Anyway, back on topic of what this is all about."

The gun whined and then quickly shot, whizzing past Tony to burn the wall just behind him. Tony turned his head to glance at the large ring of smoke before facing the man in the green jacket again.

"Shut up," he ordered again. "No more words from you unless they're the password into the DODC."

"There's more than just one password. You got a pen? This could take a while."

"No, you're coming with me."

"Oh, so this is a kidnapping."

"I can't have you changing the passwords and alerting anyone of this," the man answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but Tony could already count five thousand ways this could go wrong for Green Jacket Guy. One being that Tony wasn't up for being kidnapped at this moment in particular, and he definitely wasn't going to let this schmuck take him while he was just trying to get a decent coffee. "Keep your hands in the air and don't move, or else I'm hitting you with this."

When he gestured to the gun, Tony just gave him a bored look. "You know you're not getting any passwords or anything if you kill me, right?"

The man flicked a switch on the gun. "It's set to stun. It won't kill you, but it will definitely knock you out for a few hours."

"Good to know."

Green Jacket Guy approached, a pair of cuffs poised to slip around his outstretched hands. The man's steps were jauntily hesitant, but clear apprehension didn't stop the man from grabbing his hand and forcing the first cuff around him. He moved to click it around the billionaire's other wrist, but was met with a snapping punch to the face.

Green Jacket Guy stumbled back, a hand pressed against his newly bloody nose in a grunt of clear pain. Tony dove when the man quickly gathered himself and raised his gun, forcing himself behind a trash can as it whined and then fired. The trashcan forced itself against Tony, slapping the mechanic against the wall with a shouted groan, his shoulder barely breaking his fall. That was going to bruise in the morning.

Forced to his knees, Tony scrambled back up only to be faced with the robot-arm-gun pointed directly in his face. It charged up in its now annoyingly familiar warped whine, and there was nowhere to go. He was trapped and he was not excited to be blasted by this thing and if he got kidnapped again Happy was going to have a heart attack, he might as well--

"Hey! Watch where you're pointing that thing!" called a squeaky voice. Tony and Green Jacket Guy both turned as a red blur shot into the alleyway, a thwip! knocking the gun from the man's hand and the red blur knocking into him. The man was barreled to the ground with a pained groan before he was covered in a flurry of webs, the Spider Guy standing over him. "Pointing guns at people is illegal y'know! Sorry to be a party pooper, but I will be calling the police."

Tony blinked, forcing himself to his feet fully as the vigilante turned around, the lenses of his goofy goggles widening in comical shock.

"Oh, whoa."

---

"Oh, whoa," Peter breathed as he caught sight of literally Tony-freaking-Stark dusting off his pants as he stood up. His eyes instinctively fluttered to the man's shadow, expecting the long hair and slim figure of Pepper Potts but catching sight of a short and rumpled man instead. Huh.

"Whoa yourself, kid," Mr. Stark responded, stepping over to where the man was knocked out cold and webbed to the ground. He dug through the man's exposed green jacket and pulled out a pair of glasses and a sleek phone, but Peter's eyes were locked onto the strange gun on the ground. His eyes narrowed at how similar it looked to the ones at the bank. "What're you doing out here? You're a Queens guy aren't you?"

"Oh, uh, yes-yes, sir. Usually, but I was just, uhh, I was just around and I heard the fight and, and yeah..."

Mr. Stark turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised in suspicion as he glanced over Peter's ratty superhero suit. He shuffled on his feet nervously, trying desperately to keep himself still and untense his shoulders, not that it had much affect. The teenager choked down agitation, trying his best to not glance at his watch. It was getting late and, while Iron Man was his second favorite Avenger, the last thing he needed was Tony Stark finding out his secret identity.

"What's your name?" Mr. Stark asked.

"Spider-Man."

"And your real name?"

Peter paused. "Spider-Man. On my birth certificate and everything."

Mr. Stark frowned, and Peter thought he was going to demand a legitimate answer, when he shrugged and stepped away from the guy on the ground. "Fine. You helped me out, I won't bother you about it. For now."

Peter let out a low sigh, muttering, "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"I am going to bother you about other things though," Mr. Stark said, "I've been meaning to talk to you, and no time like the present."

"Oh, uhh, I kinda have to--"

Peter was interrupted by the painful rumble of his stomach. His face turned as red as his mask, and he was thankful the man couldn't see his embarrassment, not that that stopped the superhero's teasing smirk. With a wave, the man stepped out of the alleyway. "C'mon, let's go."

"Go--go where?"

"Coffee. I came to get a good black coffee and I refuse to leave without one."

Peter glanced down at the guy he'd webbed. "What about him?"

"My AI already called the police. They'll be here soon. Now, c'mon. I'm not gonna ask you twice."

"Yeah, yeah. Ah, okay, Mr. Stark."

---

Peter shuffled his feet nervously, his arms crossed and constantly turning so that he could peer at the time on his watch. Twenty minutes. Not looking great, but it wasn't like Peter could really leave while Mr. Stark ordered his coffee. That would be rude, and plus it was Iron Man, so, overall a bad idea.

He glanced over from where he was leaning against the brick wall of the coffee shop to stare at the clear door. Like a final answer to his prayers, the billionaire stepped out, a drink carrier in one hand and a small brown bag in the other. The man didn't look exactly like he'd thought he would. Tony Stark had always been almost hilariously imposing in his mind, with a sharp suit and a sharper goatee, but this man was softer. Rougher.

His clothes were stained, his leather jacket rumpled, his hair messy and his face worn with the lines of memories. He seemed almost familiar somehow, and it unnerved Peter just as much as it comforted him.

"Here ya go, kid. Black coffee for me, hot chocolate and a snickerdoodle for you," Mr. Stark said once he'd walked over. Peter blinked in surprise, but managed to accept the drink and the bag with stumbling fingers.

"Oh, wow. Thank you, Mr. Stark, but you really didn't have to."

"Billionaire here, Spider-Kid. I can afford a cookie and a drink."

Peter thanked him again and, after a moment of hesitation, pulled his mask up to just above his nose, starting on the cookie. It was almost impossible to not fork it down immediately with how starved he felt. Mr. Stark waited patiently until he was finished with his snickerdoodle to start speaking, and Peter's ears burned.

"So," Mr. Stark started, "New York's benevolent vigilante that directs tourists and saves kittens from trees. Doesn't seem like a very exciting gig."

Peter narrowed his eyes, shuffling on his feet again nervously. What was his game?

He shrugged, taking a sip of his hot chocolate before answering, "It doesn't have to be exciting. I'm just trying to help out."

"Why?"

"Why--why help?"

"Exactly," Mr. Stark pointed, and suddenly he wasn't strangely familiar, he filled up the whole street. "Very few people help just to help, and even fewer dress themselves up in something that embarrassing just to help a few old ladies across the street. Why are you doing this? I gotta know. What's your MO? What gets you out of your apartment and into that onesie in the morning?"

"It's not a onesie," he muttered. Peter forced his fingers not to grip around the cup as images of a bloody street and dying shadows filled his head, instead redirecting the agitation into the scrunch of his face. He imagined he had his usual and embarrassing puppy scowl right now. He tried to release it with a sigh, but he didn't feel much better as he answered. "Because...because I've been me my whole life, and I've had these powers six months..."

Mr. Stark hummed in confirmation, goading Peter on. He swallowed down sick at the image of his aunt's brown hair drenched in blood before he continued. "I...I tried to move on at first. Just, hey! I have powers and I'm just gonna ignore it and showboat it. But...when you can do the things that I can, but you don't...and then the bad things happen..." He took a deep breath as Mr. Stark leaned in closer. "They happen because of you."

"So you wanna look out for the little guy? You wanna do your part? Make the world a better place, all that, right?"

Peter nodded fervently. "Yeah, yeah just looking out for the little guy. That's--that's what it is."

Mr. Stark nodded, his eyes glanced Peter up and down quickly before he asked softly, "And what about looking out for you?"

Peter startled, glaring at the man defensively. Did he just look like shit that much?

"What are you talking about? I'm doing fine."

"You reek of someone who hasn't been taking care of themselves, kid."

"I'm not a kid," he muttered, "And I'm fine."

"Yeah? Your arm's shaking."

Peter glanced down to see that, yes, his arm clutched around the hot chocolate was indeed shaking. Peter switched the drink to his other hand before shoving his arm in the pocket of his hoodie. "Just tired."

"It's barely ten."

"And I've been patrolling for--did you say ten?"

Mr. Stark seemed perturbed by his sudden shift, but Peter couldn't be bothered at the way his voice had lowered and shaken with slight fear or the way his entire self had tensed. Peter tore his hand out of his pocket to glare at the watch on his wrist. 9:57. Shit.

"Shit--fuck!" Peter exclaimed, pulling his mask back down. "Oh, shit. Sorry, Mr. Stark, I gotta go. Thank you so much for the hot chocolate, sir!"

"Kid, wait--"

He flicked out a wrist onto a nearby building, bending to leap when Mr. Stark's hand wrapped around his wrist.

Peter blinked at the odd sensation, holding back a flinch at the unexpected touch and tensing as his vision seemed to leap just a foot to the left before fizzing back to what it had been before. It left him dizzy and disoriented, but he only had a minute to get all the way from Manhattan to Queens. Maybe if he made it home within ten minutes he could get away with it or--

"Oh, my God..."

Peter turned at Mr. Stark's voice, realizing the man's hand was still gripping his wrist. He followed the billionaire's horribly stricken gaze to stare at whatever had left him dumb. Peter's jaw dropped as he caught sight of his shadow. It was his shadow.

The fluffy hair of his soulmate was suddenly gone and, instead, Peter's masked silhouette stood in its place. He glanced down at Mr. Stark's shadow, actions slow and jerky as he caught sight of it perfectly reflecting his own perked up jacket collar and outline of glasses. Carefully, Mr. Stark let go of his hand in a motion that felt like he was testing the waters. The shadows switched. The hooded figure shadowed Mr. Stark while the fluffy hair stood where Peter's shadow once had.

"What the..." Peter trailed off. His breaths felt lighter all the sudden. Fast. Too fast. The street was closing in, the cars passing nearby too loud and too bright and oh God his soulmate was Tony Stark. He swallowed painfully, tears biting at his eyes as he struggled for a breath.

His soulmate wasn't supposed to be Tony Stark. Peter couldn't--Peter couldn't live up to that! Mr. Stark had saved the world and he was an Avenger and he was the smartest man in the world and Peter was just some useless kid who got bullied and had a curfew and Jesus Christ he was going to be so late Mr. Fowler was going to be so mad and--

"Kid?" Mr. Stark asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Peter flinched and ducked away, the cup he'd been holding clattering from his hands as he stood opposite the man. Defensive. A shadow flashed against the man's face.

Peter read it as disappointment.

"I'm sorry," he choked out. He shot a web and leaped away, but he could never escape his shadow.

Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

#friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #spiderman #Iron Man #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker

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random-tinies · 3 years

Text

Crowza - 1

I’ve had this AU idea sitting in my brain for a while and I’m going to turn it into a full-on fanfiction series. I’ll be tagging it as Crowza AU Here is Chapter 1 💙 No trigger warnings for this one. ^^ just good fluff. ft. Mumza as Lady Death, 1.6k words

Previous (N/A) | Next

. .

There truly is no proper comparison to flying. Sure you can describe the feeling, you can say it's like swimming in freedom, but it will never compare to actually flying.

Philza thinks about this as he soars through the air, wind blowing through his primary feathers. Occasionally he flaps, defying the gravity that tries to pull him back down to earth. He takes a breath of fresh air, relishing the way it chills his lungs. If it weren't for his cloak and his feathers, he would be quite cold this high above the ground. Especially in early spring.

Although it's early April, occasional drifts of snow still dot the landscape below him as the birdman flies north for the summer. Twice a year, he makes this migration, and although it may be warmer in the southern areas, Phil enjoys the northern pine forest he calls his summer home. It's special to him for three reasons.

Kristin, his home, and his boys.

First things first, however. He needs to stop by his cache and see if it had been raided by squirrels while he was gone. Or if anything fresh is caught in his traps. Nasty buggers, always giving him grief. Troublesome creatures. Phil banks left and dives down towards a thick old oak tree with winding and twisted branches. He lands on one, bird feet gripping with sharp claws, and hops down to where his stash should be.

Near the center of the tree, the branches arch and wind themselves together in such a way that it forms the perfect shelter for someone his size. It had taken him a good century to help the young tree grow in such a way, but it gives him the perfect shelter year after year so every painstaking day of tying young branches was worth it.

Phil looks around to make sure he's not being watched before hopping inside. One can never be too careful when your cache is involved. His wings fold behind him as he walks forward, ducks under a large branch, and enters his storage room. A quick scan confirms that nothing found his home this winter and he relaxes, breathing a sigh of relief and grabbing some squirrel jerky to munch on.

It had been a long flight and he wants nothing more than to just flop on his bed and take a short nap, but he has two homes to visit first. His wings seem to ache in protest but he steps back outside and takes off into the sky once more.

A few strong flaps put him in the air and he soars the short distance it takes to get to his boys' cabin. He can see it from the top of his tree, it is an easy flight. He notices the youngest of the three outside chopping firewood and decides to land on the roof some ways above him. The sky is overcast enough that his silhouette looks just like a rather large crow.

The movement catches the boy's eye and he looks up, putting a gloved hand up to his face to try and shield his eyes from the bright white cloudshine. He squints and yells up at what he assumes is the same bird he's been seeing for years now, "Oi! Good to see you! Took your sweet time this year!"

Phil shuffles his wings and scoffs quietly. He's right on time. He always shows up to his Lady's forest on the same day every year. He watches his boy fondly as he continues to talk to himself, quieter now as he hefts the axe to chop another log in half. "Y'know, Wilbur thinks you're a crow but I think you're too big to be a crow. Plus I don't think crows can live as long as you have."

Phil sits down on the peak of the roof, legs still under him in case he needs a speedy escape. He listens to the peaceful sounds of a quiet life. A cold chill on the breeze, shadows crossing the ground as clouds moved through the sky, the occasional birdsong reaching their ears, the thunk of the axe as it chops through the wood.

The door to the cabin opens and Phil tenses, ready to fly off if attention is directed to him. He’s a little close to it and it could be a risk if whoever steps out decides to look up at him. While he loves these boys, if they find out he isn’t a crow then he’d never be able to return and watch them again.

A tall brunette steps out and calls to the blonde, “Hey, Tommy, when you’re done out here, could you come inside? Techno got a letter and we need to discuss it together, as a family.”

Tommy nods and sets down the axe. He nods towards the roof. “Hey, Wilbur, your crow friend is back. Silent as always.”

Whelp! Time to get out of there! Phil immediately takes off, flapping hard and flying over the boys’ heads. His silhouette is even harder to recognize as anything other than a crow as he soared away. Wilbur says, “Oh yeah, there it is, just like every year. You reckon he likes us?”

Whatever Tommy replies, Phil doesn’t hear it. He’s too far away, heading towards where Kristin lives in the forest. The landscape below him becomes denser and darker, the pines twisting and behaving oddly. Branches bend lower and often twist together. Crow caws are more frequent and a few join him as he flies towards his destination.

“Dadza!”

“Philza! It’s been so long!”

“Return of Dadza! Dadza! We missed you!”

Phil chuckles, striking up casual conversation with them, telling them stories of his travels. He does this every year when he returns from migration. Some of the murder follow him south during the winter but let him visit his boys alone. They prefer to stay with their lady, and Phil doesn’t blame them. He’d stay with her all the time if he was allowed.

At last they reach Kristin’s home. The murder descends and a few part ways to fly in through the open window. Phil smiles as he lands on a doormat that reads “On Death’s Door” and chuckles at the inside joke as he uses the tiny knocker built at the bottom just for him. The door opens and the most beautiful woman in all of history looks down at him with a fond smile. “And who would this be, knocking at my door?”

She wears a long black dress that graces her curves breathtakingly. Dark brown hair flows off her shoulders like a waterfall of shadows. Her voice is like the sound of windchimes in a gentle breeze, enveloping Phil in its peace. Even if his feet are rooted to the ground, his heart soars with joy. She is his everything and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Phil takes his hat off and bows to her, wings spread. When he looks up, she leans down and extends a hand towards him to step up onto. “You know I’d never miss an opportunity to have a brush with Death.”

His grin widens as she gives him a withering look. “You’ve said the same joke for the last five decades.”

“And you’ve said the same response for the last four decades.”

He laughs and balances himself as she lifts her hand. He bows his head as she presses a kiss to the top of his head, blush dusting his cheeks. The kiss of Death, if you will. Even if they’ve been together for forever, he’ll never get over these little moments. Coming back from his winter migration is his favorite part of the year.

Phil’s feathers ruffle and he places his hat back on his head. Nobody can make him feel as light as she can. She strokes his feathers and asks him about his flight, letting him perch on her hand. He tells her about the herd of deer he passed who had two fawns among them and the pack of wolves he heard while roosting one night.

She listens attentively to his words and pours him a small cup of tea. Phil could never express his love for her in the right way but he knows she understands. Their mob settles around them and drinks in every word, occasionally adding their own and squabbling amongst themselves. This is his family as much as his boys in their cabin are. He feels peace, drinking the bittersweet tea in his tiny cup.

A younger crow hops up and leans against Phil and preens his wings.

“Mumza! Mumza and Dadza!”

“Puppies! We love to see it!”

“Can we go visit them? I want to hear them!”

“Shiny ring… Phil, what about your boys?”

Phil hums and Kristin snaps her fingers. “I almost forgot! I meant to warn you, but the air is different this year. I’m not quite sure what’s going on, but I’ve felt more death in these areas than before. A few of my crows have gone missing.” She pets down his back, smoothing his feathers. “Be careful. I don’t want you to be among them, okay?”

He gives her his best reassuring smile and says, “You know me, Kristin. I never let anything happen to me. How many years have I managed to escape death?”

She chuckles. “Many times, though there have been some close calls. Just watch out. There are fates worse than death, my love.”

He bows his head. “Of course, my lady. I’ll keep an eye out.”

The rest of the night goes smoothly. New crows that followed Phil there introduce themselves to Lady Death and join their flock. By the time the fire in the fireplace dies down, the two are fast asleep in her bed, snuggled together and dreaming of a happy future.

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mardereads19 · 3 years

Text

Elriel Month 🌸🦇

Day 18:

Azriel had gone out to the garden at one point after tonight’s family dinner at the river house, and Elain took advantage of everyone’s attention being diverted towards Nyx to escape the room as well. She quietly slid the door to the garden open and her breath was taken away at what she saw.

Azriel stood in the middle of the garden. His back was to her and he was staring at the Chrysanthemums she had planted a few weeks ago. But what captured her attention was the way the dusk light made his wings look. She had always compared their leathery skin and veins to a colorful map of rivers. When the light hit them like the setting sun did now, she was reminded that there were beautiful things in this world.

Glancing away, Elain noticed Azriel’s shadows, which hovered above the ground, but laid still —as if they were sleeping.

She looked back up at Azriel’s back and smiled. She began to use all of the lessons by her friends and Azriel to make her way over to him silently.

“You are getting better at it,” he said over his shoulder before lifting his glass of wine to his lips.

Elain stopped in her tracks and huffed a laugh. “I’ll never take you by surprise, will I?” Azriel smiled. She joined him, standing besides him and facing the captivating view of the river and the city of Velaris beyond.

It was a lovely night, Elain thought. The purple-pink sky contrasted beautifully with the faelights of the city. The Rainbow shined like a constellation in the almost-darkness. Elain suspected the citizens were waiting for the night to fall to head out in tandem. Her hearing was just beginning to sharpen —like it did every night— and she could pick up the sounds of a few musicians tuning their instruments, no doubt preparing for their upcoming crowd.

She could also hear Azriel’s heartbeat. As clear as a song.

“What are you thinking about?” He glanced her way.

Elain took in his face, one side illuminated by the city lights, the other dark with shadows. She took in his clothes. His skin. His brushed hair. She wanted to reach out and touch it —touch his face, his arms, his wings. Her eyes lifted again to the wings that peeked over his shoulder.

“I was thinking about your wings earlier.”

His wings shifted, as if he had become self-conscious of them now. He smiled and lifted his brows in a quiet question.

Elain bit her lower lip, not caring about how it was one of her tells that Azriel already knew. “Do you remember the day we met?”

Azriel tilted his head. He studied her face, his eyes focusing on hers. “Of course.”

Elain nodded. “I asked you about the flying.”

Azriel dipped his chin once. “If it was scary.”

“Yes.” Elain felt heat rising to her cheeks. “How does it work?”

She had seen them fly plenty of times. Had flown with them, too. But the mechanics of how Illyrians flew? She didn’t know those.

He blinked at her and though Elain felt foolish for the question, she knew he would not laugh. Then, instead of opening his mouth as she had expected him to, she watched, awe stricken, as he opened his wings and spread them behind him, allowing her to see the place where his wings connected to his powerful back.

Elain stepped closer, but did not dare touch.

“Having wings is not enough to fly,” he begun, looking at her as she studied his wings and back. “An Illyrian without training may yet move and use them to shield and shove.” Azriel used his right wing to demonstrate a shield, bringing it before him, blocking out the city lights, all of him falling in shade. Then with his left wing, he encircled her and brought her closer. Elain laughed.

Azriel blushed as he smiled at her, extending the wing behind him again. “But without proper training of the muscles of the body,” Azriel pointed at his torso, back, and legs, “that is all an Illyrian will ever be able to do. To fly means being able to keep the muscles of the back and core moving the wings while carrying the person’s weight.”

He flapped his wings, careful of not pushing Elain. She took a step back for good measure. He still did not lift off. “It’s hard enough for beginners to keep this movement of the wings without lifting their weight, but we are trained since childhood to do this.”

His eyes shuttered, but Elain had already heard about his story. About how he was kept locked in a cell when he had been a child. She knew he had not been trained until much later. However, he was here know. He was feared and respected, known across all the courts of Pythian. Everyone knew him as a force to be reckoned with, a terror to watch out for.

And here he was, teaching her how flying worked, never mind that she did not have wings of her own to practice it.

Her heart softened at the thought. At how kind and gentle he had always been with her. Listening and answering —sometimes just keeping her quiet company. How he had smiled at her and made her worries fade, her tension ease away. He may cause fear in other people, but she had never been afraid of him.

The realization emboldened her and she got close to him. Azriel tucked his wings, his eyes roaming her face. She glanced back at the river house, making sure everyone was still inside. Then she focused back on him. “Can I touch them?”

Azriel blushed again, but his chin dipped in another nod as he extended his left wing around her.

Elain stared at it, surprised he had agreed and even more surprised that she had dared ask. Elain had heard about how taboo it was to touch an Illyrian’s wings without permission and outside of battle. Outside of other things, too. This time she felt hot in the face.

His wings were even more beautiful up close. Details she had not noticed from afar jumping out at her now. She reached out a hand shyly. When her fingers graced the membrane, she reminded herself to be gentle. She traced the dark line of a vein, feeling the softness of the wing. But it was also strong, not easy to break. Elain spent a few more seconds admiring it —feeling it— and then she dropped her hand.

Azriel regarded her with a glow upon his hazel eyes. Like she was the only female he would ever let near his wings. Like she was the one worthy of admiration and not him.

But she could admire him all night.

She smiled and took a step back. “Show me.”

Azriel did not need more encouragement. With a mighty flap of his wings he lifted up, with another he gained height, again and again. Until he was high enough to glide over the river, sometimes tucking his wings in such a way that sent him spinning over the water. Elain laughed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and did not take her eyes away as he circled around and spun in the air again.

“Show off,” Cassian said, looking at Azriel with a smile as he approached Elain.

She had heard the door opening, so it had not taken her by surprise.

“Hey, Rhys! Get over here!” Cassian also extended his wings as if getting ready for lift off. He smiled at Elain when he noticed her watching him. “Want to fly, sis?” He began to tie his hair.

Elain smiled at his words. He had taken to calling her sister. She opened her mouth to answer, but a silky voice behind her said, “I’ll fly her.”

Azriel had landed, hair still as intact as if he had not flown. His hazel eyes shining with a new light. He extended his arm towards her.

She placed her hand in his. “Will I get dizzy?”

“Only the first ten times,” answered Mor with a smirk from where she had come out with Feyre and Rhys. Through the open doorway, Elain saw Nesta holding Nyx, and Amren sitting across from her, a small smile twisting her lips as she talked.

“I won’t spin you too much, if you’re not comfortable,” Azriel assured her.

Cassian threw her a wink as he shot into the sky. “Spinning is where the fun lies, though,” he shouted over the flapping of his wings.

Feyre had shifted her wings into being and was grinning like crazy watching Cassian spin around in the air. She looked at Elain and Az. “Maybe take it easy with her first?”

Azriel lifted his eyebrows quizzically, his lips falling to a smirk. “Who taught you how to fly?”

Feyre laughed. “You weren’t so gentle about it!”

Azriel chuckled as Feyre, too, launched herself into the air.

The only other Fae with wings left was Rhysand, who regarded Azriel for a few moments before finally grinning at Elain and following behind his mate.

Elain watched her family flying above, spinning in the air and gliding over the water. At one point, Cassian dipped low and splashed Rhysand in the face as he caught a low draft of air. Both Illyrians laughed but Rhys had his revenge the next second when Feyre used her power to splash water back at Cassian. The three of them laughed but Feyre yelped as Cassian began to chase her around.

Elain looked down at where her hand was still held by Azriel’s. He was smiling up at his brothers and Feyre, too. He faced Elain once more, his eyes hopeful and bright. “Fly with me?”

And Elain did.

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #I want to fly too 🥺#this was so fun to write #elriel #Azriel #elain #elain archeron #pro elriel #elriel endgame #elriel fanfic #elriel oneshot #my writing

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gallickingun · 4 years

Text

the space between || b.k.

SUMMARY: It’s been a long time since Bokuto has had a Saturday morning off, and you plan to use it to your full advantage.

PAIRING: Bokuto Koutarou x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: mentions of nudity, emotional cuddles, etc. WORD COUNT: 4.2k+

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a cute, quick little fic about cuddling in the nude with Bokuto and here we are, four thousand words later. I hope you guys like it, my first Bo piece! 💕

The plush of the mattress jostles and you find yourself stirring from the realm of slumber, eyes still glued together with the sleep that fogs your mind. You are living in a haze, a mixture of your sleep deprivation and the boneless way your body lies within the sheets, joints and muscles aching from the tortuous pleasure you’ve been put through by the man you love most.

You want to stretch and open your eyes, to crack open your lids to find him sleeping next to you, a divot in the duvet where his hefty body has taken residence. But it is too difficult and too tiring to even think of putting forth effort at this point, your appendages practically creaking with the gentle movements you attempt to make. And so you settle for nosing yourself further into the down of your pillow instead, drinking in the warmth and the smell of his shampoo off the sheets.

“Sleepy head,” his voice is just a touch too loud for you to find enticing this early in the morning, despite how ravenous you were to hear it only a few hours prior, “s’time to get up, c’mon.”

You whine, screwing your eyes shut even further to the point where your vision throws speckles of fire against the backs of your lids. Every one of your muscles aches and you cannot force yourself to do anything other than lie there and take whatever verbal or physical assaults he chooses to instill upon you.

It starts with his palm, warm and expansive, running up your thighs. You clench the muscles as you feel his weight settle between your knees, his body still above the covers, your bare skin still hidden to him from the neck down. He chuckles and the baritone of it makes your spine shudder, your toes curling in anticipation, the build up before the burst.

With Bokuto, there is always a burst.

A gentle kiss is pressed to your navel, the bow of his lips finding the dip in your skin despite the barrier of a high thread count between the two of you. In response, you turn your head so your cheek is pressed into the pillow, embarrassment flooding your body in the form of a heated flush, singeing his fingertips as he roams your skin above the sheets. You’re too attuned to his ministrations, and everything that he does sends your body into a flurry of desire, as if your atoms were built to suffer until he brings a soothing balm of his own to you in the form of his fingerprints.

“Not ready yet, Bo,” you reach for him with one wavering hand, futile save for the fact that he longs for your skin nearly as much, if not more, than you long for his. Your thumb finds his bicep and it allows you enough of a guide to flatten your palm against the muscle, mapping out he curve along his deltoid, where you hook your middle finger to keep yourself steady, anchoring yourself to him like he was some sort of lifeboat, “Come back to bed.”

Your voice is slurred enough to make even the strongest of men weak, Bokuto thinks. The lilt each syllable carries, the way your eyes roll behind translucent lids, it’s all too much for his flimsy form. He can spike at what feels like one hundred miles per hour, but when he’s this close to you, his muscles atrophy and his heart stops beating.

You are a force to be reckoned with, and his heart always begs for just another whirlwind of you.

Bokuto is laughing again, this time nuzzling the apex of his face along your abdomen, counting out your ribs with the tip of his nose. It’s almost as if he’s making sure that you’re still all here, like he might have lost bits and pieces of you in the night. His breath is warm against your skin, adding to the heat the your body is accumulating from the promise of what is to come if you prove yourself tantalizing enough.

His hands pull the covers down to pool around your hips, gooseflesh pin-pricking your skin at the sudden change in temperature. Bokuto loves watching your body react, each inch of your seized up and stone cold, and he full-well intends to satiate your need for warmth. He kisses the bone of your right hip, nose trailing along the swell of your belly until he kisses the hollow of your navel, a gentle sound resonating in the soft space between your soul and his, “I’m right here, baby doll.”

You pout, forcing yourself to crack one eyelid open so you can half-glower down at him, even though the look has no malice or intent behind it. Bokuto pushes himself upward to snag your lower lip between the bite of his teeth, playfully nipping at the fullness of your skin. The closeness allows you the opportunity to slip your boneless arms around his neck, arching your back upward until your chests are flush with one another. You leech from his heat, begging to be enraptured by his body and stolen by his affections.

Bokuto’s body complies, his blood coursing scorching tendrils through his veins, making his skin sear against yours, a stark contrast to the coolness of your own. He appreciates you for a moment, eyes drinking you in, the way that your body pebbles beneath him, cool and compliant, awaiting his touch. He knows that he has you underneath his thumb, that he could have his way with you in any version of this that he wanted. He has your trust entirely, which is why when he leans down to kiss you square on the mouth, your frame molds to his own, and he is not sure where he ends and you begin.

The melding of your mouths has yet to cease his heartbeat from quickening, time after time. He does not grow weary of your tongue and gums beneath his own muscle, licking at the seam of your lips so he can devour you whole. You welcome him, of course, prying your teeth open so you can feel his heat extend to your own skin even further than before.

Your fingertips wind into his hair, tugging at the dark roots before you allow one palm to stray, trailing down over his shoulder. Bokuto is clad in a tank top, indicative of his morning workout, but it is thin enough that you can feel the corded muscle underneath the fabric, and you take full advantage of the diaphanous clothing to explore the range of his back and shoulders. The tactile difference between his shirt and his tresses forces you to focus on something, allowing you to keep your mind on this plane of existence rather than ascending to another. You moan when you feel the curve of his tongue prodding against your lips again, your knees trying to break free from the pinned position he has you in so you can bare yourself entirely to him.

Bokuto reaches upward to brush his knuckles along your jawline, abandoning your ribs for something closer to your heart. He is smirking against your mouth as he pulls away before he can become too enraptured in your taste and familiarity, “I’ve already had my morning jog and you’re still in bed, babe. I should punish you for being so lazy.”

Your backside throbs at the mention of punishment, still raw and angry from the memory of the long night that has hardly even passed, given the position of the sun outside the window. You feel the warmth of the rays trickling through the shades, golden light creating a tanned hue on Bokuto’s bare skin. You trace the thin beams that have formed shadows against his neck and shoulders, your fingertip finding his jugular and pressing down firmly to feel his pulse shudder under your touch.

The both of you flush with a lustful heat, your ears and nose changing color in tandem with one another. Bokuto can feel you trembling, knows that your mind has wandered to what his hands that are currently gentle and soft can truly do. He nudges his cheek against yours to feel the warmth of your embarrassment collecting there, the shade of your skin different now.

“You have the weekend off, no practice,” your hands flex against the back of his head and his shoulder, “and you seriously don’t want to just stay in bed? You’re always talking about how you don’t get enough sleep!”

Bokuto runs his hands over your torso, circling your waist with his expansive palms, sending a trail of blazing heat in his wake as he maps out the contours of your abdomen. He is laughing again, shaking his head so those silver tendrils fall in his face, obscuring you from his vision, “I guess you are pretty tired, huh? I wore you out last night.”

“Bo!” You reach up to smack his arm, gripping onto his bicep afterward. Your entire body sings with the remembrance of the way he folded you practically in half, his fingerprints ghosting against your skin now in the form of bruises, a tangible memory of his impressive brute strength.

He scrunches his nose as he grapples your forearm, circling his fingers around your wrist so he can pull your hand towards his face, kissing the innermost part of your arm as if he were planting a garden with the ministrations. His lips find your pulse point and he runs his nose along the grain of your arm, running the tip of it up to your wrist before he cracks his eyelids open to fixate onto you with that warm, golden gaze.

“What, did’ya already forget? Do you need a reminder?” Bokuto slips one palm underneath your thigh to grip the globe of your backside, squeezing the flesh harshly. It stings on impact, your hips canting forward to meet his with uncontrollable fervor. You have to bite down on your tongue to keep a moan from slipping between your teeth, the salacious feel of his hand against your ass doing little to quell the fire bubbling up within your belly.

“Koutarou, you little shit,” you’re growling out the syllables under your breath but he knows you have no follow-through, there will be no promise of anger or punishment. Another garbled set of words tries to flee from your tongue but you cannot focus on them because your mouth is otherwise occupied.

Bokuto hitches your leg upward, the sheet falling down from your knee so your thigh is now bared to him. He shivers at the sudden change in texture, from silken fabric to supple skin. It’s difficult for him to concentrate on your mouth when your leg is brushing against his hip in such a way that drives his mind mad. And yet, somehow he finds a way, silver lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks as he closes his eyes, narrowing his focus to the taste of your tongue and the curve of your gums. He is enraptured by you, nothing but a heap of broken bones begging to be pieced back together at the mercy of your hands.

And you oblige him, just as you always do. Your fingerprints are the key to his soul, pressing firmly against his skin and opening him like no other.

You search him, pulling out those groans of ecstasy and aborted thrusts as his hips stutter against your waistline. Bokuto’s mouth draws downward, creating a line of open-mouthed kisses that leave behind a damp trail, as if it were gasoline, clear and slick along your skin. You beg him for the match as you moan his name, your skin matching his in heat now that he has engulfed you like a flame, threatening to light your whole body to a raging fire if you let him linger long enough.

“Maybe you’re right,” he gasps against your jugular, practically wanton in nature as he hovers over your body.

Leaning back, Bokuto reaches for your leg, tugging your calf upward so your ankle rests against his shoulder. He angles his head so he can kiss the bone there, a thin layer of skin keeping your barest parts from him. He chuckles and the warmth of his laughter spreads through your limbs like a raging bonfire, searing just beneath the surface.

He turns so he can look you in the eyes, “Maybe I will come back to bed.”

The smile that graces your lips makes it all worth it.

Bokuto allows you to strip his torso of the offensive article of clothing, the fabric added to the pool of your clothes on the floor beside the bed. Your hands waste no time in mapping out his torso, pectorals and oblique muscles receiving extra dotes of attention. He nips at your collarbones, admonishing you from allowing him to continue to strip down so the both of you are evenly matched, full patches of skin on display so neither of you can hide from one another.

Even bare, his frame no longer hindered by bulky clothes, Bokuto still proves to be a massive man. Bulging muscles and thick bones that pave the way for his thick extremities and loitering weight. When his knees dip into the mattress, you find yourself rolling towards them, the slope of the bed changed with his added weight. You giggle as you try to hold yourself upright, eyes squinting shut when he reaches across the space between your bodies to grip your rib cage. His hold on you is gentle but firm, keeping you in place without bruising you.

The two of you settle into one another as if you’ve been doing this your whole lives, falling into a position that leaves the both of you comfortable and close. Your head is tucked beneath his neck, your chin on his collarbone as you lie still, his breath warm as it dithers into the crown of your hair, your mouth open as you breath against his throat. The tanned flesh sprouts goosebumps and you can’t help the laughter that piques your voice, your nose nuzzling his jugular as his apple bobs when he tries to breathe.

“C’mere,” he murmurs against your forehead, kissing you shortly after the word is spoken. Bokuto’s palm runs down your side, gentle as he hooks his three middle-most fingers around the curve of your thigh, “you feel so good, baby, so warm and soft.”

You roll your eyes and lean back to look up at him, “Just what every woman wants to hear, Bo, that I’m soft.”

“What the hell is wrong with that?!” Bokuto gently bumps his forehead into yours, successfully hitching your leg up over his thigh so your waists are now flush with one another. You hook your ankle around the backside of his thigh reluctantly, narrowing your line of sight until your irises are but slits hidden behind half-hooded lids.

He scoffs, “I swear, you find something wrong with everything I say, woman.”

There is no true frustration behind his words, but you tilt your head upward to kiss him anyways. Your affections usually bring about some form of amnesia, as Bokuto is too enticed by the taste of your tongue to remember you admonishing him only moments prior. His fingers press harder against the muscle of your leg, trailing down so he can trace the dip of your calf and ankle, like he might be mapping out your anatomy so he could memorize it for later.

“I’ve missed you,” you manage when you pull away from him, ducking your head so your forehead bumps his chin. Your whole face is coated in an embarrassed heat, eyes beginning to water at the memory of too many nights spent alone in this bed while he travels the world to play out his dreams on the court.

Bokuto can feel the shift in your demeanor, and he pulls you closer to him on instincts alone. Your chest presses into him and you swear your heartbeats are in time with one another, the slow rhythm like a song that plays for only each other to hear. His hands try to find any part of you that he can touch, your skin calling to him in the quiet of your bedroom, begging to be praised and flourished with affections. He pulls the sheet up to your waists, allowing you some form of privacy despite it only being the two of you who live in between these walls.

“I think about you every day,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, his voice an octave lower than usual. Your chest tightens at the sound of his downcast tone, and you know that those usually bright, amber eyes have lost their golden hue, turning a sad, sallow shade in favor of the standard color. Bokuto nudges his nose over your cheek, sporadic kisses pressed against your skin as he speaks, “I always go back to the hotel room, thinking you’re going to be there by some stupid accident. I look forward to your good morning texts and every time I get to call you, it’s like it’s just you and me, alone in the world. Does that make sense?”

You have tears streaming down your cheeks, but he was too wrapped up in his own range of emotions to notice. Once he recognizes the dampness plaguing his collarbones has nothing to do with his own natural sweat production, Bokuto is tilting your head up with a knuckle underneath your jaw, his thumb gently pinching your chin, “Hey, sweetheart, wh-did I say something wrong? I swear, I’m so fucking stupid with words, I just-”

His rambling musings are cut short by your lips surging forward, swallowing him whole with a simple gasping moan. You dig your nails into his body, sinking into whatever patch of skin is closest. You need this tactile comfort, to remind yourself to come down from this high that he has created by stringing together a few simple syllables.

“I love you,” your voice is haggard and slow, but it does not matter, not in this moment, “I love you, Bo.”

The palms of his hands sear into your shoulders as he runs the heels of them along the curve of your body. He rubs up and down, creating a friction that warns you that you might catch fire if he does not show you distance. You welcome the heat, welcome the burn, because the ache that it leaves behind when he is gone is so much more intense than if he were to keep you at bay. You look up at him, eyes wide and begging for some form of solace in his gaze, “And I’m proud of you, for doing this. Pursuing your dreams.”

“Nah, baby doll,” Bokuto pushes your hair from your face, fingertips lingering on your cheek, held there by some existential force that he cannot fathom, “you’re my dream, yeah? S’all you.”

He angles your head upward again, tilting his wrist as he cups your face, kissing you gently for what feels like hours on end. Your mind slips into a sort of haze, gentle colors passing behind your lids as he prods and tugs at your lips. You feel euphoric, champagne bubbles drifting upwards from your stomach, effervescent and unrelenting. He is a high you would dare to chase for the rest of your life, even if he sits just out of reach. You don’t mind getting drunk off of his love if it leaves you with this overwhelming sense of adoration that warms you from the inside out, leaving your fingertips buzzing with the promise of what is to come next always being better than what has come before.

“Volleyball isn’t forever,” he whispers like he does not want it to come true, but knows it must despite his reluctance, “but you? I’ve got you for life.”

You cannot help the tears that swim down your cheeks, creating glittering rivulets of saltine droplets, sticking into your hair and onto the pillowcase. Bokuto chuckles as he swipes at the sticky skin, brushing away any evidence of your emotions. You want to refute him, to tell him that he can make volleyball something he could do forever if he just worked hard enough. But you know that isn’t true – he is but a mortal, despite your thoughts otherwise, and mortals break, they wither into nothingness. He can not spike like a twenty-something year-old athlete forever, and even if he chooses to coach, it may never bring about the fulfillment that the sound of squeaking his sneakers on a court can.

Bokuto is gentle as he kisses you, a simmering heat spreading from your lips to your toes the longer he stays connected to you at the mouth. His hands fawn all over you, searching each dip and cord of muscle and bone and skin as he does so, mapping out your frame like he has not done this a dozen times and will not continue to do it for the rest of his days.

The hoarse phrase of, “I love you,” is whimpered into the spaces between your teeth, where your soul and his collide. Your heart rolls from within the cage of your ribs, knowing full-well that if it were possible, if you were to look hard enough there would be a bruised outline against your skin from where the organ were beating so quickly that it might look as if it were trying to escape.

As if sensing your thoughts, Bokuto’s hand against your cheek drifts downward, ghosting over your throat before resting against the left side of your chest. His thumb brushes along the swell of your breast, but you know the action is far from sensual in nature, the heel of his palm digging in just enough so he can feel the thumping of your heart underneath your skin and bones. He breathes in slowly as the organ thuds under his touch, taking you in moment by moment, unwilling to miss even the slightest movement or sound.

Your hands find his cheeks, holding his jaw gently in your hands as your lips volley back and forth, soft, audible smacking echoing from your mouths as you kiss. The way his thigh slides between your knees has you clenching around him, your own body trying to accommodate the sizable appendage as he slots himself closer to you.

Bokuto has always been desperate for your affections, from the beginning of your relationship to now, nothing has changed. He wants to be as close to you as possible, practically suffocating you with his proximity and even though you feel like you’re drowning within his hold, you would never come up for air again if it meant being with him. There is little space between you now, bodies melded together underneath the thin sheet, warmed by the golden rays of sunlight beaming through the window. You wonder how ethereal this must look – sunshine on your skin, golden hour in your hair. You two must be the picture of intimacy, wound together and unable to be separated, two bodies become one in the moment of heightened grace and poise.

“Bo,” you manage to breathe his name as he relinquishes your mouth in favor of your throat. Your hands latch onto his shoulders when he leans in closer, rolling his body upwards against you. The hard wall of muscle that ripples when he moves is enough to bring any woman to her knees, let alone one so weak for him such as you.

He lands a kiss to your collarbone before angling his head so he can look you in the eyes, “Yeah, babe?”

You don’t want the tears to fall, but you can’t help it with the way your eyes are watering and when you blink, a fresh set of salted pearly drops are dripping down onto his skin , “Will you hold me?”

Bokuto is wrapping you up into the tightest embrace you think you could handle before you can wheeze out your final syllable. You are warm all over, completely wracked in heat as he holds you closely, your head against his chest so you can count out his heartbeats until your own rhythm has settled. You curl your arms around his shoulders until your palms are flat against his contoured muscles, finding solace in the burning planes of skin there, his body heated from a mixture of lust and adoration that fuels his very being when he is closest to you.

“Of course, baby,” Bokuto is ever the sturdy one, keeping you sane despite your attempts to turn otherwise. He kisses the crown of your head as if he were planting a flower bed, gentle petal-like pecks along each lock of your hair. A light, airy string of laughter is huffed along your forehead, an open-mouthed kiss placed soon after, “I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

You believe him, because Bokuto has always been there to piece you back together when you want to fall apart, crumbling to the ground like shattered and tattered pieces of the person that you are. His strength is unparalleled, and you do not wish to search for anyone who might come close to him because not only would it be futile, but it would be a waste of your time.

After all, how could you ever find someone who so perfectly fits into the spaces between you like he does?

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