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looooooooomis · 4 years

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Somebody’s Baby

a stu macher x fem!reader one shot requested by the lovely @slasherscream

I try to shut my eyes, but I can't get her outta my sight. I know I'm gonna know her, but I gotta get over my fright.

pairing: Stu Macher x fem!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: s m u t, longing, fluff, angst, oral, teasing, honestly I went off (my bad)

Stu Macher never really did stand a chance. At least not when it came to you.

He was putty in your hands, whether you knew it or not. He’d do anything for you, everything for you – even if that meant taking a backseat to Billy Loomis. He had to admit, it was gutting to watch you and Billy interact the way you did. The two of you were close – hell, the three of you were close – but there was something about you and Billy that seemed to just…make sense.

And, for the most part, Stu was okay with that. For the most part being the key words. Because, fuck, he’d be a liar if he said that tonight of all nights wasn’t bothering him. It was a night not unlike any other. The three of you had decided on a movie that Stu couldn’t really bring himself to care about all too much as you and Billy harped on and on about whatever it was the two of you were talking about, but it was your attitude that was rubbing him the wrong way.

You were distant tonight. You were cold. You seemed to smile real big whenever Billy would make a comment about the movie but if Stu said a goddamn word it was as though he’d sucker punched you in the gut. It didn’t feel angry, or at least he didn’t think you were angry, but there was something off about the whole damn thing and it was driving him mental.

You were tucked away in the chair with your knees curled up into your chest, frowning at a particularly bloody scene on the TV, a seemingly important one too, but Stu couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He was far too busy trying to discern what the lines on your forehead meant, what the furrowed brow and small, barely-there frown on that pretty face of yours meant. Had he unknowingly done something wrong? He didn’t think so, but stupid shit came out of his mouth all day long so, he supposed, it wasn’t impossible.

But there was a niggling feeling in his gut that told him that couldn’t be it. You weren’t mad or annoyed, you were cold. You were distant. It was as though you’d barricaded yourself away from him and done so with purpose. But why?

Why, why, why?

“It’s eight, Stu,” Billy muttered, far too engrossed in the movie to bother looking his way. “Didn’t you have to be at whatsername’s by eight-thirty?”

Glancing down at the time on his watch, Stu stretched out his long limbs and chanced another look at you only to find that your eyes were solely focused on the wall just beyond the television. For a moment, he remained still, waiting for you to do something. To look at him, to make a quip about his date, to do literally anything besides ignore him, but when your stare remained cast ahead, Stu sighed and stood up to his full height. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He griped. “Think she’ll put out?”

It was meant to be a joke, something to lighten the mood or, at the very least, get you to crack a smile or roll your eyes, but when all you did was continue in your stare-off with the fucking wall, Stu’s stomach fell.

What the fuck was your problem tonight?

“Tact, fucker. Y/N is right here.” Billy rolled his eyes but shot him a small smirk. “And if she has a brain, don’t count on it.”

“Hilarious,” Stu mocked. “You guys need anything before I go? Some water? Some beer? Handful of condoms?”

“Fuck off,” Billy cracked a grin. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight.” He gave Stu a knowing look, being sure to keep his mouth shut around you in fear of letting anything regarding their little charade slip.

“Me?” Stu feigned hurt. “Never.”

Once again, he waited for you to say anything – a goodbye, at the very least – but when he got nothing in return, Stu merely rolled his eyes and walked out of the house.

You, on the other hand, remained stoic as ever as you blinked back a flurry of tears daring to spill out of the corners of your eyes. Your heart was in your stomach and your nails, which had been digging into your palms for the better half of the evening, carved out tiny half-moons into the sensitive flesh as you fought back every urge you had to scream and yell at the idiot for leaving you yet again.

The sound of the front door shutting was enough to make your body relax just enough for a few stray tears to roll down your cheeks. You were just so mad and so incredibly hurt all at once and, while you should have been used to it by now, it never got any easier watching that tall bitch of a man you’d grown to love over the years walk out for yet another date with another woman who was not yourself.

“You okay?” Billy asked, lulling his head towards you from his spot on the couch. He was the one person in the world to know your true feelings about Stu Macher and, while he’d never admit to it out loud, you knew he was oddly protective of you when it came to Stu’s idiocy, especially where his dating life was concerned.

You swallowed hard, not quite trusting your voice in fear of breaking down in front of him. So, instead, you remained silent and barely nodded. Was it hot in here or was it just you? You suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe as you sat in the dark room with Billy to your left and Stu now long gone. Deep breaths, you thought to yourself, squeezing your palms yet again. Deep, calming breaths.

You heard Billy sigh as he paused the movie. “Y/N,” he muttered, his tone careful, “how’s he going to know how you feel if you don’t actually say shit about it?”

Through the thick blanket of tears still gathering in your eyes, you focused your glare on the dark-haired man. “Fuck off,” you barked out, “like it’s that easy.”

“It is,” he shrugged. “What’s stopping you?”

“The idiot has a date every week, Billy,” you hissed, “am I supposed to show up with a bouquet of fucking roses declaring my feelings as his tongue’s down some other girls’ throat?” With your emotions at an all-time high, you stood up from the chair and raised a shaky hand to anxiously toy with your hair. “I mean does he have to parade his shit around here the way he does? It drives me nuts.”

Billy remained quiet and still as he watched you pace in front of the tv. He’d seen this frenzied look on your face only once before, but he knew what was coming next. It wasn’t often that you let your feelings finally bubble over to the brink of explosion, but if your current state was any indication, he was about to witness a breakdown.

Standing up to his full height, Billy quietly walked towards you and placed his hands on either shoulder, holding you in place as his brown eyes searched your own watery gaze. “Hey,” he cooed, brow puckered. “Stu’s a fucking idiot if he doesn’t see what’s in front of him.”

You chewed on your lip in an attempt to contain the sob desperately clawing its way up your throat. “I can’t watch him do it anymore, Bill,” you finally said, barely above a whisper. “It just hurts too much.”

It wasn’t often you were met with the soft side of Billy Loomis, but you cherished those moments – though so far and few between – each and every time. With a sigh, Billy wrapped his arms around your shoulders and tugged you close. He said nothing, though, because what could he say? Stu was a fucking moron when it came to you, he knew as much, but uttering those words at a time like this would only hurt you more.

You sniffed, your tears bleeding into the cotton of his white t-shirt. “I swear he—”

“Wow,” Stu’s voice rang out into the silence of the room. Snapping your head towards his sudden appearance, you froze in Billy’s arms, terrified of just how much he’d heard. At first, he seemed to just stand there for a second, staring at the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms with a resigned, almost defeated look in his blue eyes. But all at once, in typical Stu fashion, that serious undertone slowly morphed into an almost amused sneer. “You two move fast, huh? Guess I should’ve grabbed those condoms.”

You rolled your eyes, barely hearing Billy’s sly comeback as you gently pushed him away. That heaviness in your chest that had made you cry only seconds prior was now a raging fire inside of your chest. The audacity this big, dumb, ass of a man had.

“Hilarious, Stu,” you griped, sniffing as you walked back to your chair. “Forever the comedian.”

“Hey,” he held his hands up in surrender. “No shame in it, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t interrupt shit,” Billy said. “And you know it.”

“What are you even doing back?” You snapped, glowering across at the idiot. “Or did you get bored of this one already?” You made a show of looking down at your watch-less wrist. “Five whole minutes, that’s got to be a new record.”

Stu pretended to laugh. “I forgot my wallet, ice queen,” he grabbed his wallet off of the table but continued to glare down at you. “What’s your problem tonight, anyway? You’ve got a stick shoved so far up your ass it’s practically coming out of your—”

“I wouldn’t go there,” Billy warned, flicking the play button on the remote. “Stop while you’re ahead.”

Stu barely glanced at him. “Nah, Billy,” he shrugged and took a seat on the edge of the couch closest to where you sat. “I’m curious. Can’t a guy be curious as to why a broad suddenly decides to give you the cold shoulder?”

“I warned you,” Billy merely shrugged.

“A broad?” You growled. “Get fucked, Macher.”

“What is your issue?” Stu reiterated. “I’m serious. You’ve been acting like a—”

“I’m not getting into this with you.” Pushing yourself off of the chair, you stormed passed both men towards the front door. “Enjoy your date, dipshit.”

Stu watched you go in utter confusion but before he could get up to follow you and continue this entire fiasco, Billy smacked him upside the head. “Leave her be, idiot,” he merely said, not tearing his eyes away from The Exorcist. “Let her cool off.”

“Cool off?” Stu asked with a furrowed brow. “Cool off from what? You two got that heated that fast that she stormed out because I came back inside?”

A long, deep, heavy sigh escaped Billy’s lips as he – yet again – had to pause the movie. His eye twitched in irritation as he surveyed the almost dopey look on Stu’s face. “I just want to watch this damned movie and it’s like a fucking soap opera with you two.”

Stu blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You seriously don’t know, do you?” When all he received was a blank stare from his friend, Billy pinched the bridge of his nose and swore under his breath. “You’re even dumber than you look, you know that?”

»»————-¤————-««

It was a few hours later when there was a casual knock at your front door. Your parents were gone for the night and, as you glanced at the time, your stomach gave a nervous twist. It was nearing midnight and, while it was a Friday and you were by no means tired, just who would be knocking at your door this late at night eluded you.

Debating on whether or not to answer, you remained firmly situated on your couch as you eyed the front door in disdain. Maybe if you waited long enough, they’d move onto the next house and your life could be spared for another night. But, before you could get too much hope on the matter, another loud knock erupted from the door. This time, however, followed by an all too familiar voice.

“Hey dipshit,” Stu’s muffled voice rang out, “open up.”

“The fuck?” You whispered in confusion before making your way to the front door. Sure enough, as you unfastened the lock, there he stood. Stu Macher in all his glory. His eyes were somewhat wild as he silently stood on your front porch, soaking you in from all angles as his Adams apple bobbed up and down in his throat. For the first time in…well, ever, it appeared Stu was at a loss for words.

“Stu, what the hell?” You asked. “My parents could have been home do you know how late it is?”

“Yeah,” he simply said, not moving an inch from where he stood. “But this couldn’t wait.”

You blinked. “What couldn’t wait?” You asked, glancing over his shoulder to see if this was some weird prank that he and Billy thought up. “Come inside, you’re freaking me out.”

“I—” His words seemed to die on his tongue. “I just need to know if it’s true.”

You frowned. “If what’s true?” You racked your brain for a possible answer but came up empty. “Did something come up on your date or something? If it’s about that rumour with me and Matt Sewinski, I promise you that’s not true. The guy’s a creep.”

Stu shook his head but his eyes remained glued to your face, unblinking. “No,” he simply said, “and I didn’t end up going out with Heather.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I thought it was Sarah tonight?”

Stu shut his eyes in sheer annoyance. “Heather, Sarah, whoever the fuck it was,” he opened those blue eyes open again and the raw intensity inside of them made you take a small step back. “I didn’t go.”

You swallowed hard and suddenly felt a wave of nausea overcome you. “Why?” You gulped out.

Stu licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. He was yet to step foot inside your house and between the maniacal look in his eye and the chilled breeze seeping in through the open door, you shivered absentmindedly. “I talked to Billy.”

Four words. Four tiny little words was all it took to make the room around you spin on its axis. A cold sweat broke out across your chest as you averted your eyes to the wall directly beside his head. Maybe if you didn’t quite look him in the face, you could get out of what was about to become an incredible awkward, painful situation. With your breath trembling, you swallowed again and tried to find your voice. “About what?”

Stu cocked his head to the side. “Y/N,” he warned, “cut the shit.”

Another painful gulp. Your throat felt like it was closing in on you as you stood there facing the boy you’d been in love with for as long as you could remember. You’d often dreamt of this day, the day where he’d finally realize your feelings only to have them reciprocated fully – but when you’d pictured it, Stu looked a lot less crazy than he did looking back at you now. But, even still, there was a glimmer of emotion shining brightly behind those blue eyes that made your breath hitch in your throat.

It made you nervous.

Worse, it made you hopeful.

“Stu,” you tried to find some conviction in your tone, but your nerves got the better of you. “Can you just get inside first? You’re scaring me.” Despite feeling as though you were going to faint, you managed to reach across the divide to yank him inside of your house. Locking the door behind you, you took a few even breaths before turning back around to face him. “What did Billy say?”

Stu ignored your question as he began to pace around your hallway. He was this tall, broad, string bean of a man on a regular day, but the mass of him tonight was all encompassing as he governed your foyer. “Seven years,” he began, his voice slightly shaky. “We’ve known each other for seven fucking years, Y/N. And I’ve hung on your every fucking word for all of six years, eight months and a handful of days, give or take.” He turned on his heel rather abruptly to face you. “But you liked Billy.”

You opened your mouth to respond to the first half of his statement before realization dawned on you. Grimacing, you shook your head. “Billy? He’s like my brother, where the hell did that come from?”

“You act like he hung the fucking moon, Y/N!” He exclaimed, emphatically. “What was I supposed to think?”

“What?” You shook your head in sheer confusion. “Okay, one thing at a time. Billy is one of my best friends. So are you. What’s the problem here?”

“The probl—?” Stu laughed. “The problem? For seven fucking years you’ve been the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I go to sleep. And literally every fucking second in between. And this whole goddamn time, I thought you were in love with Billy.”

You were reeling. You weren’t entirely sure if your heart was beating as loud as it appeared to be, but you were sure he could hear it from where he stood a few feet away. “I—” You tried to form a sentence – any sentence – but nothing seemed to suffice. “But the dates?” Were the only words that seemed to spill from your lips. “You were dating – are dating – constantly.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “wonder why.”

You weren’t sure when you’d done it or just how your legs managed to carry you back into the living room, but you found yourself falling against the arm of the couch in an almost dream-like state. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say anything,” Stu fussed. “I want to know if what Billy told me was true.” He walked up to you and searched your face. “Do you love me?”

You didn’t answer at first. You couldn’t. Not when it felt as though your lungs were about to explode in your chest. You must have opened your mouth a dozen times over, each time with the promise of a formative sentence, but nothing seemed to suffice.

Suddenly Stu’s hands were on you. Squeezing your thighs with those large hands, he demanded your focus as he swooped down and caught your eye. “I need you to answer me, doll.”

You were so focused in on the overwhelmingly glorious feeling of his hands on your thighs that you forgot to answer. Hell, you forgot to breathe. It wasn’t until you slowly managed to tear your eyes away from his hands to trail up the rest of his body towards that striking face of his, that you found your words.

“You came to my house at midnight. You’ve been the one going on dates like it’s a part time job. You’re the one claiming to have been hanging on my every word for the better half of our friendship so, no, Stu, I’m not saying a fucking word until you tell me what it is that brought you here this late?” You pushed his hands off of your thighs and stood up. “All I’ve done this entire time is sit idly by and watch you carry on like Heffner at the Playboy Mansion. You want me to answer you? Not until I get a—”

Your answer came in the form of a kiss.

On instinct, your hands tangled through his hair as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He might have been on your shit list at the moment, but fuck he was a good kisser. You’d been thinking about this very moment for as long as you could remember. Longer, even, and god was it everything you thought it would be and more.

His hands were on your face at first, cradling it gently as he backed you into the sofa, and then they were on your neck, holding you close as his tongue massaged against your own. Shivering beneath his touch, you instinctively leaned into his broad chest as the pair of you continue to stand there, kissing like your lives depended on it.

“Stu,” you mumbled against his lips. “What are we doing?”

“Kissing” he rasped out before finding your lips yet again. “Bed or couch?”

Every red flag in your head was going off to stop this and properly talk about what was not so subtly insinuated only seconds prior, but he just felt so good and you’d wanted this so so long. “Bed,” you told him breathlessly, without a second thought.

Stu wasted no time in leading you towards your bedroom, kissing his way down your neck as you stumbled down the narrow hallway. Obviously losing his patience about halfway through, he pushed you up against the wall and trailed sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck. “I love you, if that wasn’t obvious.” He breathed out. “Like, a lot.”

His words struck you blind. Ever the dutiful distraction, however, Stu’s hand trailed down your sweatshirt before settling on the waistband of your pajama shorts. Your body reacted to the promise of his hand. Arching into him, you bit your lip and sighed in contentment as his fingers slipped beneath the band. You were already soaked. Your body responded to the man in a way you couldn’t begin to comprehend, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. And as his middle finger slid into your folds, instantly finding your clit, a soft moan escaped your lips.

“Is this the horny part of your brain talking?” You growled, tugging at the ends of his hair so that you had full access to his lips. “Or are you serious?”

“So fucking serious.” He hummed into your mouth. He pinched your clit, garnering a rather surprised hiss to escape from your lips as your entire body lurched forward. Hearing him chuckle, you popped an eye and began to pull his shirt over his head. When you tossed it across the hallway, his eyes met yours. “Do you love me?”

“Yeah, but I have bone to pick with you first,” you chided, doing your best to control your breathing as he quickened his pace on your clit.

He ducked his head down to bite your lip. “Unless it’s this bone,” he ground his hips into you, and you could feel his rock-hard erection even through his jeans. “It can wait.”

You laughed before you could think of stopping yourself. “Jesus Christ, you’re disgusting.”

He was smirking across at you. “You love it.”

Still grinning, you rolled your eyes before your lips took refuge on his neck. Which, as it turned out, was a massive turn-on for Stu Macher. Running your tongue along it and nipping at the sensitive flesh, was getting him incredibly riled up if the bulge in his jeans was any indication. Biting down on the sensitive flesh, the groan it drew out of his mouth was enough to make your already wet pussy clench around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he drew out, sliding the finger that had been assaulting your clit only seconds prior inside of you.

You let out a small moan of your own as you hurriedly got to work on his belt. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you just tell me how you felt?” When you’d managed to practically rip it off of his waist, you wasted no time in unzipping his jeans. His cock sprung free within seconds.

“I thought you liked Billy,” he rasped out gruffly as you began to pump his cock with your hand. “What was I supposed to do?”

You wiggled free from the hand currently down your shorts and dropped to your knees. Looking up at him through your thick eyelashes, you raised your brow. “You could have asked me?” You reminded him, swirling your tongue around the tip of that perfectly girthy cock. The man might have been a pain in the ass but good god he had the assets to make up for it.

Stu braced himself against the wall behind you and threw his head back. Fuck, you were lethal with that mouth of yours. “Hindsight,” he breathed out.

You released his cock with a pop. “You’re an idiot.” Was all you said before getting back to work. With your hand, you circled the base of his dick and took the length of him inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip each time you made your way back up.

He grabbed your hair and gave it a firm pull. “Fuck,” he growled. “Keep going.”

You hummed against his dick, digging your nails into his thigh briefly before looking back up at him. “Or what?” He allowed his forehead to fall against his forearm currently stabilizing him against the wall. You knew you were driving him crazy, but he’d done the same thing to you for the last seven years and you were nothing if not a petty bitch when you wanted to be. “Say it again.”

He furrowed his brow. “Say what?” Realization dawned on him. “Fuck, baby, you keep doing that I’ll put a ring on your finger tomorrow.” Stu’s blue eyes were hungrily taking you in. How you’d managed to stay fully dressed as he stood there with his jeans around his ankles and his cock out was beyond him but, sure enough, that was his reality. “I love you. A lot.”

You dug your nails into his thigh again, and slowly licked up the base of his cock. “Hmm,” you hummed with a nod of your head, releasing it to stand up to your full height. His eyes were pleading with you to finish him off, but as you slinked up the wall and mirrored his hungry gaze, he surprised you by sliding his calloused hand up the side of your neck until it cupped your cheek. You were practically nose-to-nose as he slowly pinned you against the wall and, as he leaned forward and nudged your nose with his, a slow, lazy grin broke out across your face. “I love you, too.”

Slowly, you leaned in and kissed him. Unlike the deliberate make-out session you’d had minutes prior, this kiss was slow and methodical. When you pulled away, you kissed the tip of his nose and nodded towards your bedroom. “Get on the bed.”

Stu’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Pushy.”

You gave his dick a tug. “Go.”

He swooped in again and kissed you before haphazardly kicking off his shoes and jeans, punting them across the hallway as he backed you into your bedroom. When you were close enough to your bed, he broke the kiss to peel off your sweatshirt. Throwing it across the room, his hands were back on you within seconds, kneading and massaging your breasts before taking one in his mouth. Expertly, his tongue ran along your nipple before he began to suck and nip at them. Arching into his mouth, you fisted a handful of his hair and groaned as he pulled you in even closer.

“Stu,” you moaned, shutting your eyes momentarily as you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his mouth on your tits. The man truly was a god with his tongue.

But you had a trick up your sleeve. A little payback, if you will. And this, melting into his mouth, was not part of the plan.

Hating yourself, you pushed him away. The back of his knees hit your bed and you watched as he fell back onto the soft mattress with a slight bounce. There was confusion in his stare as he sat there ogling you. “Get over here,” he beckoned, voice low.

Slowly, you shimmied out of your pajama shorts, feeling his eyes on you every step of the way as you stepped out of them and walked towards the bed. Towards him. Sitting himself up, he opened his legs so you could step between them. His hands were slow as they trailed up and down your thighs, hips, and waist before sliding around to your ass. Squeezing and pulling at your cheeks, he pulled you closer and placed a tender kiss to your sternum before craning his neck up to peer up at you.

“I always knew you had a thing for my ass.” You raked your fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away from his forehead as you grinned down at him.

His answer came in the form of another firm squeeze of your ass only rather than stop there, he tugged you closer until you were tumbling onto his lap. You gripped his shoulders as you straddled his lap, subtly grinding your hips so his erection settled between the folds of your pussy, rubbing against your clit.

“Lay down on your stomach,” he uttered. When he noticed your apprehension, he raised a single eyebrow up at you and squeezed again. “Do you trust me?”

You nodded mutely and did as you were told. And, before you knew it, you were sliding off of his lap to lay stomach-down on your bed. You felt the bed shift as Stu crawled towards you but before you could question him on it, you felt his hands slide beneath your hips to pull you up so that your ass was raised in the air.

“What are you—”

Your words died in your throat as you felt his tongue glide along your pussy. Gasping, you nearly buckled forward, but caught yourself on your pillow. You were face down, buried in the comforter and pillows of your bed, but with your hips bent at the level Stu had moved them into, he had full access to both your pussy and your ass. You could feel his fingers kneading into your ass as his lapped up your every fold until settling on your clit. You groaned and buried your face into the pillow as he began to suck your clit. You could hear how wet you were as his mouth imbibed every inch of your pussy.

His name tore out of your throat and your knuckles whitened as you gripped the bedsheets. The veins in your neck swelled with every laboured breath you managed to draw and you found yourself bucking into his mouth as an orgasm rippled through your body. You moaned and groaned and cursed into the bed but Stu’s mouth was relentless. And as he pinched your clit all the while still lapping you up, you all but collapsed. When he was sure you couldn’t take another second of torture, he pulled away and allowed you to collapse onto the bed. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were parted as you attempted to catch your breath. With a quiet chuckle, he kissed his way up your spine, grinning against your skin as your legs continued to twitch.

“Can I?” He asked, his cock at the ready.

Nodding, you gasped when you felt him slide inside of you. He bit down on your shoulder as he thrust into you and his quiet moans and unsteady breath was enough to kill you. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel so fucking good.”

This was a high unlike any other for Stu. Watching his cock slam into you, watching your ass slap against him with every wild thrust and pump he provided and feeling just how fucking wet you were for him – this was the unattainable high. You were the unattainable high.

He reached around to play with your clit again. He could feel it throbbing between his fingers and, feeling you tremble made him weak. Quickening his pace on your clit and steadying his thrusting to ensure you finished again, Stu bit down on your earlobe. “Come for me, baby.”

Your answer came in the form of another thick, guttural moan as you came undone yet again. He watched you quiver and shake and the vision of it was enough for him to quicken his thrusts. Groaning, his hands fell from your clit to hold your hips as he pounded into you. The sound of your cheeks slapping against him was drawing him closer and closer to one hell of an orgasm and as you let out one last breathy moan, his whole body seemed to erupt in fire.

His breathing was heavy as he came inside of you and the more sensitive his cock got with every thrust, his pace slowed. For a moment, neither of you moved. Instead, he allowed his forehead to fall back against your shoulder before he slowly pulled out.

“If I’d have known that’s what I was missing, we should have had this talk a lot sooner.” You teased, earning a playful smack to your ass from the man. Grinning, you flopped back onto the pillow and stared up at him. He was leaning on one arm as those blue eyes scraped over every inch of your face. You could see the words he wanted to say splayed out across his face and found yourself reaching up to brush his hair back and away from his sweaty forehead.

“Right back at ya,” you smiled.

Fuck, you really were in love with the idiot.

#matthew lillard #stu scream #stu macher #ghostface #scream stu #Stu Macher x reader #Stu Macher x fem!reader #Stu Macher x you #slashers x reader #scream #scream 1996 #scream film #scream movie #billy loomis #Billy Loomis x reader #Ghostface x you #Ghostface x reader #scream x reader

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

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turn to dust all that i adore

whoops it’s a 2b spec fic based on two seconds in a promo love that

title from things we lost in the fire by bastille

ao3 | 2.3k | 2b spoilers

The fire continues raging whenever TK closes his eyes, and he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse than the sight that greets him when his eyes are open. He wishes he could wipe that awful night from his memory completely and go back to where they were just a few days ago, happy and safe and in their home. They don’t even have that anymore, the house little more than ash, and TK would be okay with that - they could rebuild from that - if Carlos weren’t so silent and still in front of him.

The fire was three days ago; TK hasn’t seen Carlos awake in four. He’d been in the middle of a 24-hour shift when the call came through, bickering with Nancy about the merits of various sitcoms, Captain Vega probably rolling her eyes in the back as they returned to the station.

Nancy had quietly offered to drive when they found out the address, but TK had shaken his head. His hands were tight on the steering wheel, and he’d pressed down a little harder than necessary on the accelerator, praying he’d be able to get there fast enough. The house was a lost cause, if what dispatch said was true, but if he could save Carlos, then that would be enough.

He’d failed - of course he had. An explosion had ripped through the building just as they’d pulled up, the glass shattering as flames leapt from their bedroom window. TK had felt a cold dread settle inside him, and his worst fears had been confirmed when the team emerged with Carlos limp in their arms.

He’s alive, but the damage had been done. Too much smoke inhalation and multiple horrific burns left him hanging by a thread; it’s a miracle, really, that the heart monitor is still beeping out a steady rhythm. TK can’t be thankful, though, not when he knows everything could turn on its head in an instant. Not when they’ve already lost so much.

A soft knock on the door grabs TK’s attention. He looks up to see his dad standing there, a sad smile on his face and a plastic-wrapped sandwich in hand. TK twists his face into a grimace and returns to watching the bed.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Son -”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve been saying that for days,” his dad points out, walking over and pointedly laying the sandwich in TK’s lap. “Starving yourself isn’t going to make him wake up any faster.”

TK barely spares the sandwich a cursory glance. “Nor is forcing myself to eat.”

His dad sighs, crossing the room and grabbing the extra chair. He sets it down next to TK’s and, though he doesn’t look, TK knows he’s being subjected to one of his ‘dad looks’.

“TK, you’ve barely left the hospital since it happened,” he says. “I know it’s hard right now, but you can always come back and stay with me. You still have a home.”

“Not without him, I don’t.”

He hears his dad’s sharp intake of breath, feels his hand running through his hair, but TK’s detached from it all. He studies Carlos’s face, every part familiar to him, but so strange and foreign now. Carlos has never been a restless sleeper - that’s all TK - but there’s usually some movement. A crease appearing between his brows as his face scrunches up, his muscles shifting as he pulls TK closer, his nose gently nuzzling the back of TK’s neck. This still version of him isn’t Carlos. This isn’t the man TK loves.

But it’s close as he’s going to get until Carlos comes back to him, and TK can’t stand the thought of leaving him. In all the months they’ve been dating, they’ve rarely spent a night apart, and most of those were either on shift or still in their bed, with a pillow that smelt like the other and the promise of seeing each other again soon. Going back to his dad’s house would only be bearable if Carlos were with him, but that’s not possible, so neither is leaving.

“TK, I -”

“If you’re just here to give me this,” he interrupts, waving the sandwich in his dad’s direction, “then, thanks, but you should probably go now. His parents are coming in a bit and the hospital barely lets three of us be in here as it is.”

His dad recoils, wounded, but doesn’t budge, much to TK’s irritation. He’s really not in the mood for any more meaningless talk or thinly veiled attempts to get him to eat or sleep.

“Dad, please.”

“I was contacted by the PD this morning,” his dad says instead. TK’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “They found out what caused the fire.”

TK waits, but his dad suddenly becomes very reticent, his eyes flicking between TK and the bed. Clearly, this wasn’t something as simple as the electrics blowing or the washing machine malfunctioning; it’s worse, and TK’s breath seems to stick in his lungs.

“Dad?” he croaks.

Their eyes finally meet, his dad’s face arranged into a sympathetic grimace. “It was arson.”

Time stops.

“What?” TK breathes, shaking his head. Arson. Someone burned their home down and almost killed Carlos, on purpose. And for what? To kill them? The only reason TK wasn’t caught up in it too, after all, is because he was fortunate enough to be on shift that night. “Do they know who?”

“I’m sorry,” his dad says, voice full of regret. “It’s been happening all over the city, no leads so far.”

TK sits back in his chair, a white-hot spark of anger flashing through him as he once more takes in the many bandages on Carlos’s body. He wonders if this was how Judd felt those weeks ago when he found out the guy who’d run them off the bridge was also in the hospital, because TK would very much like to go out and find the people who did this. He wants them to pay for what they’ve done to the love of his life.

As is sensing where his mind has gone, his dad starts rubbing gentle circles on his back, though it doesn’t calm TK like it usually does.

“I think I’ll stay here until his parents show up,” he says. “If that’s alright?”

It’s a non-question; his tone makes it clear that he’s not going anywhere no matter what, but TK doesn’t have it in him to put up even a token argument. He simply nods wearily, and settles in for another day of waiting - another day without his boyfriend’s comforting presence at his side.

A week after the fire, he’s told he can go back to the house, if he wants. He doesn’t, really, but he goes anyway, knowing that Carlos will have questions when he wakes up, and maybe he’ll be able to salvage something.

Probably not, but it’s never been the stuff that’s mattered to him. It’s been what the loss of it all represents, the memories that now exist only in his head and in the ashes.

TK stares up at the blackened husk of their home, something keeping him rooted in the middle of the street. Police tape is still up and there’s an officer waiting to escort him in when he’s ready, but TK just… He doesn’t know if he can do this.

“TK?”

He jumps at the unexpected voice, turning to see Carlos’s neighbour from two doors down, Molly, her daughter trailing behind her. TK doesn’t know many of the people around here, but Molly and her husband are often to be found playing with Lilia on the porch, and they always make a point of greeting them. Carlos has even babysat for them a few times, though TK’s rarely there for that.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says, smiling apologetically. “How are you doing?”

He shrugs. “I’m okay,” he replies, and Molly seems to understand what that really means. “Carlos is still in hospital, but we’re, um. We’re hoping he’ll wake up soon.”

She nods, glancing at the house. “It’s terrible, what happened. You’ve got somewhere to stay, right?”

“I’ve only just moved out of my dad’s place, so I’ll just go back there while we figure something out. Guess he’ll be glad we don’t have to transport all my stuff this time.”

The joke is hollow, and Molly’s face twists in sympathy. “Well, if you need anything, we’re happy to help out however we can. Carlos has always been good to us - to everyone here - and we hate that you’re going through this now. Send him our love, okay?”

TK gives her a small smile, nodding. He’s about to excuse himself to finally go inside, when Lilia tugs at her mother’s hand, whispering something in her ear when Molly leans down.

“We were baking when we saw you pull up,” Molly explains, straightening. “Lilia insisted on bringing these out to you, didn’t you, Lils?”

Lilia beams up at him when TK looks over to her, thrusting a small tupperware in his general direction. “Cookies!” she exclaims, by way of explanation.

TK chuckles and squats so he’s at her height, taking the box from her. She’s watching him expectantly, so he takes a cookie - clumsily decorated with mountains of sprinkles - and pops it in his mouth, making a show of enjoying it.

“My compliments to the chef,” he says, licking his lips playfully. Lilia giggles, then, without warning, throws her arms around him, the force of it almost sending him on his ass. Molly gasps and reaches to pull her daughter away, but TK shakes his head at her, mouthing an, It’s okay.

Steadying himself, he gently wraps his arms around Lilia’s back, allowing her to bury her face in the crook of his neck as she attempts to squeeze him within an inch of his life. It’s enough to pull a real smile out of him, though tears also spring to his eyes, a sudden emotion overwhelming him. He brushes them away hastily when Lilia unwraps herself from him, but it’s clear that Molly noticed, judging by the sad smile on her face.

“I hope Mr Carlos gets better soon,” Lilia says, her voice earnest in a way only a five-year old’s can be.

TK nods. “Me too.”

“He gave me sweets.”

A laugh bursts out of him at the sudden comment. TK leans close to her, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Shall I tell you a secret? He gave me sweets as well.”

Lilia gasps as though she’s heard something incredibly scandalous. TK laughs again, before standing back up and turning to Molly, who’s been watching the two of them with clear amusement.

“Thank you,” he tells her. “For coming out and talking, and for the cookies.”

“It’s the least we could do,” she says, waving him off. “Like I said, let us know if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk. We’ll be there.”

TK thanks her again, waving at them both as they head back inside. He turns to his and Carlos’s place, then takes a deep, shaky breath.

He can do this.

Inside is much as he expects. The worst of the rubble has been cleared, but there’s still some detritus lying around, including a few of their things. TK stoops and carefully retrieves a framed photo from the floor, wiping the dust off the cracked glass. The picture inside is barely recognisable, the colours warped, but he knows the image like the back of his hand - a candid of him and Carlos taken by Marjan during one of their hangs. She’d caught Carlos mid-laugh, a grin plastered on TK’s own face as they’d stared into each others’ eyes.

Marjan had grumbled about how frustratingly lovesick they both were, but the photo quickly became one of TK’s favourites, and it had made its way into a frame less than a week later. TK’s heart aches at the sight of it ruined; he can always print another as it’s still saved on his phone, but it still hurts. Everything does, right now.

As he gazes around the space, eyes catching on mementos and remembering how it all used to look, TK is struck by how much this place had felt like home. He’s only been officially living here for a month, but it’s been theirs for far longer than that, TK’s stuff worming its way in among Carlos’s until it became natural to see two pairs of shoes by the door, two sets of keys in the bowl.

This was theirs, and now it’s nothing.

He drops the photo frame on his way out the door, not sparing a look back as he walks away.

He gets the call halfway back to the hospital and TK forgets all about speed limits as he races the rest of the way. He sprints through the corridors, the path to Carlos’s room learned by heart, and skids to a stop in the doorway, his eyes filling with tears at the sight before him.

Carlos, awake and smiling and alive.

TK lets out a sob, his hand flying to his mouth. Carlos turns, his smile widening when he catches sight of him, and he wordlessly lifts his palm up in invitation.

And who is TK to refuse it?

“Hi, baby,” he gasps, before kissing his boyfriend, palms framing Carlos’s face. Carlos’s hands come up to clutch at his wrists, and TK presses their foreheads together, silently revelling in this moment.

There’s a long road still ahead of them - Carlos needs to heal, and they’ll have to do so much to get back on their feet - but he can’t care about that right now. Being here, right now, with Carlos’s warm touch stroking over his skin, is all TK needs.

Carlos came back to him, and that’s the only thing that matters.

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thanx-idonttry · 4 years

Text

Mineta Being Disrespectful to (Y/N) HC Bakugou/Shinsou/Kirishima/Mirio

Katsuki Bakugou:

Bakugou is a very protective Of you

He loves everything about you like your skin regimen, your hair regimen, and everything you do to take care of yourself.

His secret guilty pleasure is doing facial routines with you and washing your hair. Don’t tell the other students shhh!

He also loves your taste in music, your taste in fashion, he also loves when you dance when you “think” you’re alone.

He also truly loves when you stand your ground against him and his crappy attitude. You shut everything down telling him that you are not the one to be a messed with, and tell him to check his attitude.

You are his queen, and a King should always protect his Queen.

So he basically walks with you everywhere, you only get your alone time when he’s off training.

When he walks with you, he holds your hand and he’s always close to you so other males realize that you are with him. He gives them glares, warning them and basically telling them “Don’t even try it.”

It seems like a Certain purple hair short monster didn’t get the picture.

When Mineta Approached you two in the hallway with a cocky smirk, you and Bakugou realize that you were about to hear some very offensive shit.

“Hey you Beautiful Curvy, Black, ThunderBolt! You know what they say: the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. Can I get the chance to test that theory?”

Your Face was in pure disgust.

(You know like in Anime their eyes are shadowed over and your lips were a straight line as the background is like a dark blue lol)

Like everything he said to you was so disrespectful that you couldn’t even think of a comeback.

Bakugou grabbed Mineta by the collar of his shirt and pulled him up to the level of his raging eyes.

“Why you 3ft little ingrate! Apologize!!!! Do it now or I will regret the day you were born!” Bakugou threatened.

Mineta, who was shaking in fear, begged for his life and pleaded to the blonde to not unleash his explosive wrath on him.

“Mineta.” You started. “If you ever step to me with that weak ass game or any other game you like to play, I will step on you neck as I pull out your purple orbs until you’re bleeding and probably won’t stop after. Do you hear me you sorry excuse for a hero?!”

Bakugou stared with wide, proud eyes at you. He never seen you like this, and he have to say that he loved it. The whimper that Mineta gave snapped the Blonde back to reality.

Bakugou slammed Mineta against the lockers, giving him the same glare that he gave earlier. “I still didn’t hear an apology.”

Mineta apologized repeatedly, but Bakugou’s grip only got tighter around the grape student. Upset that Mineta KNOWS you to are the rice and still tried to shoot his shot.

“Listen here you little failure of a human, you know (Y/N) are together and you still came up to her flirting. I can’t stand a lot of things you do but what I really hate is the fact that you had thee AUDACITY To do try. If you try this again, Class A will have 1 less student. Got it?!”

Mineta fearfully nodded before Bakugou rolled his ass down the hall like he was a bowling ball. Adding a tiny explosion for extra push.

“I’m so sorry Teddybear..” Bakugou sighed to you. “Don’t apologize Babe, you did nothing but protected me. Thank you for making that runt apologize to me.” You said.

“No problem, but that can we talk about that sexy, angry, dark side of you? I never seen that side of you and I wanna know have I been rubbing off on you?” Bakugou smirked.

You chuckled as you rolled your eyes, you lightly pushed him off you and started heading to lunch.

Hitoshi Shinsou:

Shinsou has always been the laid back type, pretty chill and tamed. Like it’s kinda hard to piss him off.

But if you do want to piss him off, there are a few ways to do so.

Call him a villain because of his quirk. He hates when people misunderstand him and don’t want to try to understand, he will be highly pissed off.

And mess his beautiful (Y/N) A.K.A his Kitty Kat. He treasures the hell out of you, you’re his sunlight to his gloomy days. His sulking lessened when he met you.

He loves laying on your chest as you play in his hair. He loves to hear your heartbeat, he loves how soft and warm you feel. You’re like a dream to him, and hearing your heartbeat makes him realize you’re real.

His favorite pastime with you is letting you braid his hair as you two chat. He feel so lucky to have you.

So imagine how he felt when he was walking to meet you at your locker, and saw you and Mina there, looking creeped out by the short purple pervert.

“How you doing today you nesquik milky chocolate queen?” He said with such a cocky smile. Did he really think that was appropriate?

You and Mina scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Mineta, you better run.” Mina said as she saw your Boyfriend standing there.

Shinsou stood there with a death glare, fist cleaning hard, he was trying so hard not commit murder. How dare he say those to you, his Kitty Kay?! Oh he’s gonna pay.

“Hey Mineta, How’s your day?” Shinsou said in a happy voice.

“Oh it’s going-”

Got him.

“Beat yourself up.” Shinsou command.

While the graped fucker beat himself, and Mina watched and laughed. Shinsou came up to you, putting his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Are you alright?” Shinsou asked you.

“Yeah, but I think you should stop him before he beat himself into a coma.” You said. “He’ll deserve it.” He said. “Agreed.” Mina said.

“Babe.” You said looking at him, he groaned. “Apologize to (Y/N).” Shinsou demanded Mineta.

“I apologize (Y/N).” Mineta said. “Punch yourself one more time.” Shinsou ordered with a smirk on his face. When the bell rang, Shinsou released his quirk.

Mineta was groaning in pain, Shinsou bent down to his eye level, and looked him dead in his swollen eyes.

His glare was scary, and cold. “Don’t you ever approach my girlfriend like that ever again if you want to continue breathing. Got that Grape Shrimp?” He muffed him then walked back towards you.

“I see I’m going to have to escort you to classes with this grape menace running around.” Shinsou said

“Shinsou that was funny! Can I get you to do that to some people for me?” Mina asked as she walked away with you two

Eijirou Kirishima:

Just like Shinsou, He’s kinda hard to piss off. I mean just look at him! He’s always smiling. (Oh smiley Magee head ass! Ik I love Kiri.)

You and Kirishima was close, meaning you two had feelings that either one of you were afraid to admit. So y’all hang out a lot because y’all like being around each other.

He loves when he listens to your music. You always have the greatest songs from Beyoncé to Chance the Rapper.

Whenever you pass him in the halls or around the dorms, he’ll pause his conversation or whatever he’s doing to come talk to you

And you, always loved talking to him. You loved his fangs whenever he smiled. You two would shyly flirt and talk to each other, you can basically hear Bakugou’s eye rolls.

“JUST FUCKING ASK HER, YA’ PUSSY!” Bakugou yelled from behind. He was tired of Kirishima talking about asking you out but never had the guts to do so.

“Ignore him, so I was wondering-”

Then Mineta came up to ruin this beautiful conversation, like he literally came out of no where.

“Excuse me Kirishima but I have something to say to (Y/N). How you doing, you Hershey Kiss beauty?”

Oh no he didn’t.

“Boy you better come correct when it comes to me!” You held your hand up, about to slap him when Kirishima stopped you.

“Mineta, I’ve put up with your constant creepy hook up line but I refuse for you to hit on (Y/N) like that. It’s not manly at all! Now apologize to (Y/N)!”

“Or what? You’re going to hit me? That’s not like you. That wouldn’t be manly now would it?” Mineta mocked.

That hit a nerve for Kirishima, he took in a deep breath, looked at Bakugou, and signaled him to come over.

“Apologize or Else.” Kirishima said. Mineta, who is unaware of Bakugou being behind him, folded his arms and refused. “Or else what?”

“Or else I’m gonna stomp you into the ground and create grape jelly out of you. You fucking short creepy fuck.” Bakugou said as tiny explosions popped from his hands.

Mineta stood frozen, looking between the three of you guys terrified. “Well, She’s waiting.” Kirishima said.

“That’s not fair! She’s not even your girlfriend!” Mineta whined.

“She is now, and she still hasn’t got her apology!” Kirishima said pulling you close. Butterflies are just flapping in your stomach as he held you in such a protective and claiming way.

“B-But.” Mineta tried.

“Bakugou…” Kirishima said, ready to send his feral friend onto the Grape Trash.

“Fine! Fine! I’m so sorry (Y/N)! I will never do it again! Please don’t send Bakugou on me!” Mineta begged.

“(Y/N) do you accept?” Kirishima asked. Kirishima will sick Bakugou on him If you didn’t.

“I do, but I still want Bakugou to beat him up.” You said. Bakugou smiled wickedly as he started his attack on Mineta.

You and Kirishima started walking away, and you looked at the red head with a cheeky smirk. “So, where we going on our first date since we’re a couple now.”

Kirishima blushed hard, tripping on words, he rubbed the back of his neck. You thought it was so cute. You grabbed his hand, “Don’t worry, I’ll pick the date.”

“No, I’m the guy. So I should show you an amazing time. I think I already know a place.” Kirishima said grabbing your other hand.

Mirio Togata:

The most powerful student in the school.

And he is your boyfriend. And the Best and sweetest boyfriend you could ask for!

Just like Kiri, he’s Smiley Magee! But because he’s so positive, I don’t see him getting angry…

More like Stern seriousness, and when he’s like that, you better take him seriously.

You and him have this game y’all play. Where he pops in randomly, through a wall, ceiling, floor, door to drop some words you probably need to hear.

He isn’t a stalker with it, it doesn’t bother. You think it’s fun, trying to predict where’s he’s going to come from.

He loves popping in on your down time when you just relaxing and being natural. Popping in when you’re watching a movie or tutorials. Helping you learn, while learning himself.

He is a master at putting on False eyelashes and he loves brushing your hair as you talk about your day.

He never invade your space and you get particularly bored when he’s not around. Be looking around, hoping he pops up.

Anyways, back to main thing. You think as a 3rd, certain first years wouldn’t have the balls to talk to you. But One Small Menace thought otherwise.

Here we have Minoru Mineta, trying to shoot his shot with you, not realizing it never even made it in the basket. Especially with the disrespectful pick up line he opened with.

You and your girls were stretching in the yard and when Mineta and Dennis came up to you girls. “ How you are doing! My black thunder beauty?”

You face went complete stale, even his friend knew that wasn’t a way you talk to you or any female period. And he thought he was cute with the nickname because your quirk is Sonic Thunder.

Next thing you know, you see a strong hand come from the ground and grabbed Mineta by the leg. You smiled, you knew that hand! Then instantly, Mirio pops up from the ground like a fucking daisy!

“Is this seriously how you talk to women? Also, you do know (Y/N) is my Girlfriend right?” Mirio asked as he held Mineta by the leg. Mineta started babbling and begging to be put down.

“I don’t like what you said to her, and I suggest you apologize before it really becomes a problem.” Mirio threatened. Then out a small bit of smite, he shook the little shrimp a couple of times.

“I-I-I’m sorry (Y/N)! I never meant to offend you! And please tell him to put me down!” Mineta begged you. You and Mirio had playful smirks on your faces. You two tortured him for a couple more minutes by shaking him, making him dizzy.

“Alright Miri, let the little shrimp go. I think he learned his lesson.” You smirked. As Mirio dropped him, Mineta was a bit Dizzy.

You thwacked him on the head, for your payback. It knocked him down, but not out. So he could still listen.

“You should never approach someone like that ever again, that is somebody’s daughter, somebody’s sister! Treat them like they are humans.” Mirio told him.

You and your friends got up and surrounded Mirio, thanking him. Then you wrapped your arms around him, planting a kiss on his lips, making him blush bashfully.

“You girls wanna hit up a restaurant? I’m pretty sure you want to forget this just happened.” Mirio asked once he cleared his throat, he had to regain strength because you make him so weak.

“Now you know I love me some food!” You beamed to him, he grabbed your hand, smiling back at you as you start telling him how much you missed him.

244 notes · View notes

hellacioushag · 3 years

Text

tw: abuse/sexual assault

the hypocrisy of people using faux outrage about others drawing parallels between tamlin and azriel’s stories when they didn’t bat an eye about someone drawing similarities between a rapist and a sexual assault survivor to justify their shipping needs is astounding. if you read the post no one was saying tamlin and azriel are the same. i’m gonna detail my own thoughts on why these two mirror each others narrative, but with key differences.

abusive childhoods:

i feel like people forget that both tamlin and azriel were victims of an abusive household. the key difference is azriel’s history has made him want to defend those who cannot defend themselves/punish those who are the perpetrators of violence while tamlin gave into his anger and violence at the world. it’s a classic tale of being an abuse victim. you either grow up to separate yourself from your past and do better than your parents or you become just like them.

tamlin’s brothers would have murdered him as a babe in his bassinet if they suspected he had potential or desire for the high lord position. we also know tamlin’s father held slaves and was aligned with others who shared his view of the world in the war. pair these bits together and we can assume tamlin’s father was a more aggressive and violent father than even beron is. tamlin grew up in a home where he did not feel safe. and when his father tasked tamlin with finding out his enemy’s secrets tamlin obliged.

he was present and possibly participated in the butcher and murder of rhys’ family. this was a significant moment for tamlin’s turn into becoming an abuser like his father. he could have lied, he could have denied knowing the information about rhys’ mother and sister, but instead he gave that information over to his father knowing he was signing a death warrant. some could argue that he may have done this because of his own father’s abusive tendencies toward him, but this was the moment imo that tamlin went from a victim to a predator.

as for azriel we all know the abuse he suffered by his family. how his brothers tortured him and tried to have him killed. how he was denied any affection or love growing up and was taught that his existence was a stain on his family’s reputation. azriel could have easily turned into an abuser himself the way tamlin did, but being dumped into the illyrian camps and finding cassian and rhys saved him from that fate. his brotherhood with them was the turning point for azriel to no longer be a victim, but a survivor.

anger issues:

you can’t deny that both tamlin and azriel suffer with anger and control issues. it’s clear in the text they both have a barely contained, deep-seated anger that could be deathly when let loose. the key difference is tamlin has no one to reign him in, no one of his equal to calm that rage. azriel has this support system and has been shown to have utilized it when needed. i’m not going to go into a full analysis on all the examples, but I will point out the main ones I think we all know.

tamlin’s explosive anger was shown when he blew apart the library when feyre and he disagreed about her safety measures in acomaf. he could have easily hurt her had she not had magic to protect her (as seen when this same moment was repeated in acowar). tamlin let his rage and helplessness consume his every thought about protecting the person he loved and instead became the very threat he sought to protect her from. he let his paranoia about her being in danger prevent him from listening to her needs and locked her in a cage. this in itself was abusive, there’s no arguing this point. the part to note is that he as a high lord had no one of equal measure to talk him down, to help him see reason. when lucien tried to step in he was dismissed and abused himself. when feyre tried to speak up on her own behalf tamlin refused to listen and as high lord his word/wants/needs were law in his lands. he had no one who could provide a healthy perspective and so left unchecked he continued his abusive behavior.

azriel’s cold, lethal anger was shown when he exploded at the meeting with the high lords in acowar and attacked eris for a slight against mor. he was inches from letting the rage take hold of him and ending eris’s life. feyre, his high lady and friend, was able to calm him down and make him see reason. azriel is a trained spy and torture master, he’s supposed to be able to keep a cool head in high stressed situations, to act unemotionally to get his job done. however reliving the trauma of seeing a broken mor and imagining eris leaving her there consumed him with rage he could no longer contain. i’m not here to justify his actions. mor’s own trauma of seeing azriel fly off the deep end is enough for me to condemn his behavior. i am however pointing out that i think his reaction was not just about mor, but about reliving his own helplessness and loss of control and letting it consume him into a lethal rage.

the key difference with tamlin and azriel’s moments of all consuming rage is that azriel had someone to talk him down and let him see reason. tamlin refused the help of his own support system (lucien/feyre) and instead gave into his abusive and volatile tendencies. azriel could have easily done that same, but because of his brotherhood and friendships he has people to pull him back from the edge.

desire for love and acceptance:

both tamlin and azriel (and all characters in this series tbh) have a strong desire to love and be loved in return. the problem is when that desire for love becomes an obsession and entitlement. it becomes harmful when you think you’re owed something.

tamlin let his desire for feyre become obsessive. he had his soldiers hunt her down to drag her back to his home. he refused to accept that she was happy and healing away from him because he was in despair without her. he couldn’t fathom that she could be finding peace when he was being torn apart. he allied himself with monsters because he convinced himself that his love for feyre was the stuff of legend and that he was acting in a heroic manner. and even when he found out that she had a mate, something that is considered a sacred bond above all things to their people, he refused to accept that the cauldron/the mother/fate could be so cruel to deny him his happily ever after. feyre was his and he would reclaim her no matter what. he would defy the mother herself for his love. the problem with this is that he did not take into account feyre’s needs. when you love someone you put their needs above your own. he didn’t care that feyre was mated, that she loved rhys, because his obsession for her and belief that she belonged to him outweighed all reason. his love for her turned toxic if you can even call it love to begin with.

azriel is a bit different, but the parallels are there. he’s not at the obsessive point yet (masturbating to pain killers notwithstanding) and he may never get there. one could argue he spent 500+ years being obsessed with mor, but his support system held him in check. that when he saw mor flirting and sleeping with others he leaned on his brothers, on cassian, to distract him and help him through the pain of knowing the person he loved didn’t love him back. and regarding elain i think whatever is between them is entirely too new to relate it to his feelings for mor, but it’s also looking to be just as unhealthy. he didn’t bat an eye about fighting lucien in a blood duel and seemed to welcome the challenge. he knows that if lucien were to die that pain could destroy elain. even if she doesn’t love lucien, has not accepted the mating bond, she and he are soulbound. if he were to die it could shatter her, but he didn’t seem to think of that consequence at all.

when he questioned the wisdom of making them mates in the first place, when he claimed “what if the cauldron was wrong?” and then rationalized his thoughts by saying 3 sisters for 3 brothers.... this is a callback to tamlin refusing to believe the cauldron would deny him love by mating feyre to rhys. questioning why he doesn’t have a mate of his own isn’t inherently bad, but implying that because his brothers found mates with 2 of 3 sisters so lucien doesn’t deserve the 3rd is. when he doesn’t talk to his brother about why he desires elain and instead talks about why fate has robbed him of a sister it stands to reason why rhys would take exception to this way of thinking. it’s bordering on toxic and i’m glad rhys was there to pull rank on azriel.

are tamlin and azriel the same?

no, didn’t you listen to anything said? they are not the same and the key difference as to why is because azriel has a support system of brothers and friends that he can rely on to keep him in check. tamlin has pushed away any form of support and has embraced his beastly abusive behavior. saying that their story parallels is not saying azriel is an abuser like tamlin. it’s pointing out why tamlin’s story is a cautionary tale for azriel’s future journey. it’s outlining that while they may share similar aspects of an abusive past, anger issues, and longing for love and affection they are not the same people at their core because of the way they deal with their trauma.

#acotar #acotar metas #acosf #azriel #tamlin #they are not the same #but they do parallel to each other #can't wait to see people say i'm a tamlin apologist #or i'm equating az and tamlin #cause people in this fandom seem to not understand how to comprehensively read

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lettrespromises · 4 years

Text

> LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

> Letter object : the heart’s warmth and the body’s flames.

> Todoroki Shouto and Bakugou Katsuki sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

@bruised-cherry sent a letter : ❝Hiya, Nikki! Can I request a one-shot(if you're down) where Todoroki and Bakugou's(poly relationship) s/o got into a little argument with each other and now their s/o is rejecting them and ignoring them. Since it's summer, TodoBaku turned off the air conditioning, AC, etc, knowing their s/o would need them soon. And just, kinky, dirty ass s m U t :) (and lana spelled backwards if you're down with that, if not that's cool). Sorry I'm a kinky hoe 👉😅👈❞

Author’s letter :

❝ dear bruised-cherry,

first and foremost, i would like to apologize for taking so long to write your promised letter! nonetheless, i had a lot of fun writing it, hopefully it will reach your expectations!! it’s 4:05am as i am writing this and my brain is unable to write proper words i’m sorry—

sealed with a kiss,

nikki.❞

Genre : Pure smut, angst if you squint.

Warnings : Cursing, sex, vaginal sex, blow-job, cunnilingus, anal sex, daddy kink. (Please consider that the characters are aged up.)

Word count : 5.8K.

This day seemed to counterbalance the already established rules of time and space, you were secretly convinced that minutes were hours and each time you would lay your eyes upon any item with the sole purpose of indicating the current hour, you felt as if time had stopped. It was a long, long day. Truthfully, you wished you could have had the opportunity to meet someone whose quirk was time control to ask them to skip the remaining hours of the day.

The root of the problem was deeply imbedded with the increasing attacks committed by the villains in town, you were on a mission with both Bakugou and Todoroki- a clear lack of communication and coordination signed a burning defeat for the three of you. A mission built and perfected during several months had just blown into pieces, your efforts, tears, blood and energy were the combustibles to the pain fueled by this defeat. Each one of you attempted to exude this loss in your own way while making your way back home. Todoroki, sat on the passenger seat, found the cure to his own inner built-up anger by digging his pearly whites into the flesh of his thumb while observing the passing scenery before his eyes. Bakugou, unexpectedly, made a martyr of the steering wheel by squeezing the non-existent life out of it, causing his fingers to turn white in the process. You, on the other one hand, kept on reminiscing the earlier events of today, your mind roaming over and over again to find what went wrong, you weren’t exactly angry : disappointed in yourself was a more precise way to describe the matter.

The silence was deafening, almost agonizing. Truthfully, silence was even more intimidating than noise- a noisy ride would have included the repertoire of Bakugou’s insults flowing freely from his mouth, it was expected. But silence, on Bakugou’s end, echoed to a level of anger rarely ever reached, metaphorically speaking, Katsuki was a living and breathing ticking bomb at this very moment.

The sound of the car door smashing broke the silence as you arrived home, Bakugou was already inside, his hands shoved in his pockets as expected. You freed a sigh you ignored you were holding from your lips, an early sign that you knew there was little to no seconds left on the ticking bomb. Todoroki sent an apologetic glance in your way, you knew he didn’t mean no harm, if anything, it was a silent sign to encourage you before facing the aftermath caused by the explosion of the bomb.

Flower vases left shattered on the floor, a door handle scarred by the scorching hot imprints of Bakugou’s unforgiving hold and a continuous flow of insults as background noise- those were the said aftermath of the explosion. Bakugou’s body language radiated off pure anger, like you or Todoroki had barely seen before, his rage was exuding from the pores of his palms through a dangerous marriage of small explosions and smoke. He was roaming back and forth in the living room, his stare was focused on the explosions emanating from his hands as a way to convince himself that the more explosions would be set free, the less he would feel angry.

« Fuck, fuck, fuck… Goddamnit, fuck! What the fuck went wrong, hah?! We planned this shit entirely, from start to fucking finish. What the fuck went wrong?! You tell me instead of staring at me, do fucking something for once! » The words echoed and morphed into a roar sent directly your way, anger lacing his every word.

« Bakugou, don’t say things you don’t mean. » Todoroki stated, the pseudo comfort embedded in his voice radically clashed with the heat of Bakugou’s words.

« Don’t say shit I don’t mean? Who the fuck are you to tell others what to do when you couldn’t even do shit when we were facing those bastards?! You didn’t do shit, you fucking left us on our own and arrived at the very last second. So tell me, give me one good fucking reason as to why I should take shit from you! Fucking say it to my face, because I’m dying to know what’s your excuse. » The sounds of Bakugou’s explosions slowly adopted the structure of a crescendo, but Todoroki remained unfazed, his facial expression didn’t betray his pseudo serenity. « I was evacuating the civilians, you knew that, I don’t understand why you act so confused. We prepared this plan together, the three of us, you knew what my role was. »

You were stuck in the middle of a battlefield, torn between two sides but the tragic twist of this scene was that you couldn’t find the strength to defend one of them. You needed to remain objective and impartial, something obviously easier said than done. Your eyes darted from one figure to another each time you heard the sound of either Todoroki or Bakugou’s words, truthfully, you felt paralyzed under the lack of options in this crucial situation- on one hand, Katsuki was nothing short of acerbic when anger consumed him, on the other one hand, Shouto’s calm attitude hid a dangerous amount of anger building inside of him ready to explode if Bakugou’s venom stung too hard to Todoroki’s liking.

« Oh yeah, yeah. You were on you own, hah? Evacuating civilians and shit, am I supposed to feel fucking sorry for you when Y/N were busting our fucking asses out there to take down those bastards? You’re trying to play it solo like your old man? You know what, the more I think about it, the more you start to act like him-… »

« Katsuki! That’s enough, shut up! »

It was your turn to let anger lace your words in such a way that they developed their own toxins, purposefully made to sting Bakugou hard enough to cut his rambling. Endeavor was a touchy topic to Shouto, and as soon as Katsuki pronounced the words ‘old man’, a hint of flames appeared on Todoroki’s collarbone- it was only a matter of second before an inferno invaded the living room.

« You never know when to stop, do you? Do you have any idea of how ridiculous this is? You, Bakugou, you should know out of all people that his father his a sensitive topic, and yet you let your anger get the best of you every damn time. Todoroki, were you really ready to blast your flames at him? Aren’t the both of your grown men, or am I mistaken? How disappointing, how fucking disappointing. » You dropped every last ounce of energy in your tirade, every last bit of emotion in the process too. You felt so numb, deprived from your own vigor.

Both Todoroki and Bakugou’s eyes fell on you as soon as your roaring words broke their mutual verbal assaults, their mouths were set agape- they did have words on the tip of their tongue, but they couldn’t find the strength to give life to them. There it was again, the deafening and agonizing silence.

You couldn’t bare standing in the same vicinity as them, disappointment clouded your vision and the more you looked at them, the more your vision became foggy- but it still remained unclear as to whether it was due to the disappointment or the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Without wasting yet another second, you went upstairs and locked yourself in your room, giving yourself some privacy to wipe away your tears.

Downstairs, the silence was still suffocating both Bakugou and Todoroki, their stare were still laying upon the spot where you used to be just a few seconds earlier, they just hadn’t processed your sudden disappearance. They blinked once, then twice, and a third time to make sure they weren’t dreaming and once they were convinced it was very much real, they looked at each other and sighed as if they were, too, deprived of their own energy.

« Bak-… Katsuki, it was my mistake to threaten you with my flames, I apologize. » Todoroki’s tone was soft in comparison to his last statement, a sense of compassion replaced the anger laced in his words.

« I shouldn’t have talked about your shitty dad. » A sentence, which, in Bakugou’s vocabulary echoed to an apology, but with the cruel exception of the forbidden word which begins with an ’s’ and ends with ‘-orry’.

« I assume Y/N is not going to talk to us for a while, and, don’t take it personally but her presence is very much needed. » Bakugou frowned as Todoroki’s words connected to his eardrums, needless to say, he knew he was right but didn’t care enough to admit it and grant him this silent victory.

« I might have an idea, half-and-half, use your shitty quirk to lower the temperature of the house, you know how much she fucking hates cold temperatures. That’s gonna make her move her ass out of the bedroom. » Todoroki only quirked his eyebrows in response while Bakugou was adorning his most victorious grin, he knew this plan meant an automatic win- both of them could handle cold temperatures thanks to their quirks, you on the other one hand, were more fond of warmer temperatures.

Todoroki sighed, perhaps already regretting his choice to follow Bakugou’s antics, but if it meant that he had to play dirty to get you, he was ready to deem himself as the dirtier player in the game. Soon enough, a frigid fog invaded mercilessly the first floor, and your bedroom was the first victim of the unforgiving coldness. Little did you know, this was the beginning of a series of crushing defeats on your end : seeking warmth underneath your blankets? Didn’t work. Blow air on your hands? A total fail. Looking through your boyfriends’ closets to find one of their thick hoodies and wear it? Not the solution you needed to cure the problem.

You were running out of solutions, and that’s when your unconsciousness crept in and murmured suave temptations to your ear : the welcoming warmth of Bakugou and Todoroki’s bodies, their arms wrapped around you like a human cocoon to protect you from the cold temperature. It sounded like a dream, and you had the means to make it real- but at what cost? You roamed around the room, not only to create body warmth by moving, but also to accelerate the train of your thoughts. What was more important? Freezing yourself to death with your pride as an inexistent shield from the cold, or embrace the agonizingly tempting warmth radiating from both of your boyfriends?

The answer to your rhetorical question manifested itself rather quickly- in the blink of an eye, you had already wrapped your hand around the doorknob and raced downstairs towards the personifications of your very own personal heaters under Shouto’s puzzled expression and, in contrast, Katsuki’s triumphing grin.

« Hah? Have you finally decided to show up, princess? » Anyone could have noticed the more-than-obvious obnoxious tone dripping from Bakugou’s words, he glanced over at Todoroki who grinned at him in response, silently thanking him.

« Just keep me warm. » You found a perfect spot right between Katsuki and Shouto on the couch, your knees were brought to your chest, your arms were encompassing your legs- if anything, you were pretty close to looking like a sphere, but you were ready to contort yourself in any position to gather some precious warmth. Eventually, you let out a silent sigh as soon as you felt their respective warmth hit the surface of your skin as a sign of satisfaction.

« I think you forgot the magic word, love. » Shouto teased, his warm index gracing the cold flesh on your shoulder, such a tease.

« Ugh, fine! Keep me warm, please. » You emphasized the pleading word, just enough to make them grin even wider in victory.

« ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it, princess? » You couldn’t exactly tell if you hated or were absolutely enamored with the teasing tone of his voice, but once thing was certain- the grin plastered upon his face was a thing of beauty.

Bakugou, as expected of him, took the lead, or rather, sent a silent challenge in Todoroki’s way which dared him to take the upper hand of the situation. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a lion-like manner, ready to protect what’s his, with the help of his strength you were now sitting on his lap. The grip around your frame didn’t move one bit, not only did he want to provide you as much warmth as his quirk allowed, but he also wanted to maintain control. Your head was laying upon the surface of his shoulder, your face was facing Todoroki who admired you as if he had witnessed the renaissance of Venus under your traits.

« I will help you feel a bit more warm, alright, love? » You hummed in response to Todoroki’s one-sided interrogation.

Another source of warmth was more than welcome. Thus, Shouto wasted no time and placed his hand upon the surface of your cheek, daring to cross Bakugou’s self-claimed territory in the process without any ounce of shame. The amount of space between the two of you had dangerously reduced until totally disappearing which cleared Todoroki’s path on his way to show you just how much he could warm you up. His lids fluttered shut in anticipation, and there it was, the oh so fabulous source of warmth- he planted his lips on yours in perfect harmony. After all, a promise was a promise, correct? Regardless of how it’s executed, correct? That was exactly Shouto’s mindset as his tongue grazed your bottom lip to beg for access to the inside of your mouth, a wish quickly granted which allowed him to spread the warmth of his tongue inside your mouth as his pink muscle met yours which only announced the beginning of the dance of pleasure. Your actions corresponded to his, and his initiatives echoed to yours— soon enough, your tongues were melting in each other’s touch. As much as he wanted to keep this going forever, the way you grabbed his wrist was an indicator that you were starting to lack oxygen. Of course he ended the kiss, but not before he dug his teeth into your lower lip to which you responded with a semi silent whimper.

Bakugou observed the scene from the side with the same smirk gracing his facial features, he would be the worst liar on Earth if he were to say that seeing your mouths collide in harmony wasn’t the epitome of poetry in motion. But who was he to let Shouto get the best of you? Who was he to let Shouto make you whimper first? He craved, no, he needed to make you melt under his touch.

« Want us to make you feel hot, princess? Be careful what you wish for. » This sentence was his final warning before flipping you over on your back, offering him the best position to physically tale the upper hand under Shouto’s amused stare. You looked so pure and yet so sinful at once, a paradox which drove of them crazy as they imagined the most unholy deeds they were going to do to you. Katsuki’s index hooked the fabric of your hoodie (more like his, but it’s just a slight detail which turnt him on even more) before to pull it over your head.

Oh, and what a gorgeous sight to behold— your naked upper body, in all its glory, a body worthy of the most descriptive pages of a novel. He couldn’t help but snicker at the ethereal scenery before his eyes, he knew he was going to devour you and make you his, no matter what.

« Don’t give me those eyes, woman, I fucking told you I was gonna make you feel real hot. You won’t need this shitty hoodie to keep you warm. »

The assault was given once his pearly whites dug into the soft flesh of your neck, reflex kicked, you titled your head to the side to give him more room to play with. It was a succession of biting, licking, biting again until your skin adopted a purplish tone which echoed to a mark of both domination and belonging. Of course, you belonged to him… And Todoroki. Once he was satisfied with his artwork, he licked the abused flesh one last time before smirking to himself as a sign of victory.

You couldn’t expect Todoroki to be left out of the party, after all, you did belong to him too. He pushed Bakugou to the side just enough to bask in the glory of your half-naked form. The gleam in his eyes reflected nothing but pure adoration, he was torn between the will to worship each inch of your body and the tempting option to make your legs weak until you can’t form proper words anymore. Oh, well, both were bound to happen.

« Oi! If you wanna touch her, don’t fucking push me! » Bakugou’s rambling was cut short as soon as Todoroki’s lips crashed on his, the blonde eye’s widened in surprise but he eventually allowed himself to crave to the passion.

« I don’t need your permission to touch what’s mine. » Todoroki whispered against the flesh of your breasts, emphasizing the very last word strategically.

The sight of your hardened nipples caused him to lick his bottom lip in anticipation, just a way to warm up his lips before devouring your flesh. Todoroki wasted no time and took this opportunity to let his tongue grace your left bud, the motions were repetitive and hypnotizing— from circular motions right around your nipple, from vertical licks to sucking motions, each deed was designed for your own pleasure while your whimpers falling free from your lips and the hand stuck at the root of his hair encouraged his actions. Your whimpers were cut short once Bakugou’s lips found yours and dragged you in a tongue-led kiss, and to no one’s surprise, you followed his already established rhythm, but goodness, it was deliciously intoxicating, letting you crave for more. And somehow, the sound of your hushed whimpers created an even more attractive melody.

Now, it was Todoroki’s turn to take advantage of the vacant place left by Bakugou who was now bent on your side which meant that your whole body to discover for the umpteenth time. A trail of kisses left from the valley of your breasts to your lower belly indicated which dangerous way Shouto was bound to take. He took a glance at the liplock share with Katsuki who offered you no rest no matter if you craved for oxygen or not, the same amused grin still plastered upon his facial features, and augmented the temperature just a bit more.

His finger drew an invisible line along the edge of your underwear, a pre-meditated deed which only announced in advance what he was bound to do, he was just one step closer to make your legs crumble under his touch. In a swift motion, fueled by his own personal hunger to satisfy his fantasies, Todoroki got rid of your pants and he could already discern the wet patch adorning the cotton surface of your underwear, what a sight to see. A new trail of kiss was left upon your skin by Shouto, this time, he focused on the inside of your thighs and followed a vertical pattern until reaching the climax of his journey : your already dripping heat.

« Are you already this wet for us, love? How kind of you. » The amused tone which embedded his voice hid a hidden sinful tone, such a contrast, but only Bakugou and you could catch the double-tone.

Bakugou, on the other one hand, mimicked Todoroki’s earlier antics (only to outdo him, his own ego was his sole motivation) and made a victim of your breasts. One lovebite on your neck wasn’t enough, he craved to make you his even more, on every inch of your body. This thought was the reason behind his will to bite the generous flesh of your left breast, which clearly isn’t abused enough to his liking. And so it began once more— biting, licking, biting once more just hard enough to make you whimper in response, suck on your flesh until it becomes purple and has his name written all over it. From the love bite, Katsuki kissed his way until your nipple, the motions of his mouth were strategically chosen to make pure sounds of pleasure fall free from mouth mouth, while his thumb and index were twisting your nipple while following the circular motions of his tongue. The harsh grasp you held onto his blonde hair was only one of the first hints that you were on your way to reach a state of pure bliss, the moans echoing in his head were his favorite hint though.

The sensation of a sharp lick across the fabric of your underwear awakened a new whimper on your end, this time, it was higher which only echoed to a higher level of pleasure. Todoroki’s lips curved into a grin at the sound of it, what a marvel to hear. The fabric which separated your core from Shouto’s lips was seen as a taunt to the latter, but fret not, said taunt was quickly taken care of as soon as he got rid of your underwear, throwing them who-knows-where in the room.

And so the temperature augmented yet again— an experimental lick caused you to bite your lower lip to refrain any moan to escape from your mouth as you closed your eyes in anticipation for pure bliss. Your reaction was the best indicator to Shouto who had found yet another motivation to make you come undone— getting to hear your agonizingly breathtaking whimpers and moans fall in cascade from your lips. Your core was wet, much to Todoroki’s delight, and he could almost hear you calling his name, begging him to eat you as if you were his last dinner on Earth.

His mouth married the shape of your core, his tongue danced beautifully against your folds as if your core had been specifically created to welcome the wonders of his mouth. The licks left by his pink muscle were executed differently in several ways— vertical licks, circular shapes, he based his actions on the sound of your shameless moans and whimpers to predict his next move.

« Shouto, S-Shouto! » Your first begging, which didn’t go unnoticed to both of the protagonists of your very own pleasure.

« So eager, aren’t you, love? » He kissed these words into your skin, words embedded with adoration and love in the process.

Well, there was someone whose name hadn’t been begged, and truth be told, it was getting on his nerves. How dare Shouto have the honor of being begged and not him? Oh, well, he was about to change that right away.

« Open wide, princess, I’ll give you something to fucking beg about. » The same usual smirk accompanied his words, he already knew what was bound to happen, and the knew what effect it would leave on you.

By the time you were busy with Shouto, Bakugou had already taken care of his own clothing by… taking everything off. Isn’t it easier that way? His genetically given large hand stroked tentatively his length, just enough to cause a layer of pre-cum to cover his tip, once he was satisfied with the result, he wasted no time to shove his entire member in your mouth in a swift motion. The warmth of your lips was the most delicate welcome he could’ve asked for, regardless if you were to choke or not, he’d find a way to make you beg his name until it becomes the only thing you’re able to say. Your throat grazed the sensitive tip of his grit, earning you a hushed grunt as a reaction which was a rarity coming from Bakugou. Both of his hands held a harsh grip on your hair, and he used said grip as a level of pressure to thrust himself into your mouth under the mesmerizing sounds of your choked whimpers. It was a scenery of beauty, he was the sole holder of all your attention— you were looking at him through your lashes with pleading eyes, silently begging him to keep going until you were to choke on his member. A silent sign he didn’t miss, he knew you like the back of his hand, after all.

Eventually, Shouto complied to your begs, you wanted more? Oh, you were bound to get more, more precisely, you were bound to have exactly what you deserved. Todoroki and tease were very close to being synonymous, hence why he purposefully used the pad of his thumb to create circulate motions on your sweet bundle of nerves which was the key to make you come undone, and, of course, two of his fingers which had already found a shelter inside your folds while pumping in and out, over and over again, until bringing you to the brim of ecstasy.

Under this new pressure, the need to express your pleasure through moans was almost impossible given the fact that each sound coming out of your mouth was rendered hushed by Bakugou’s length. Your wrapped your hand around his phallus to not only catch some cruelly needed oxygen but also set free all the sounds of pleasure trapped inside you, as soon as your mouth was set free, a pure sound of bliss fell free from your lips. A sound so sinful and addicting at once that both Bakugou and Todoroki couldn’t help but repeat said sound in their head over and over again.

« Oi, princess, I didn’t fucking tell you to stop so keep sucking until I say otherwise, did you fucking get that? » It was a one-sided question, your answer wouldn’t matter anyway.

And there he went again, shoving his member inside your mouth as Bakugou began chasing his own pleasure— if he was careful enough, he could picture the shape of heaven when his lids fluttered shut. This time, his thrusts were harsher, clearly designed to attain his climax. But he wasn’t the only one who was close to reach the seventh sky— the addition of Shouto’s fingers pumping in and out, the oh so right pressure on your sweet of nerves and the precise licks left on your wet folds was nothing short of divine, that divine that it was going to make you reach your orgasm sooner than you thought.

Reflex kicked, your grip on Shouto’s hair became gradually tighter as you felt the knot in your stomach grow more and more until it became out of your control, you rolled your eyes back in ecstasy and the pearls of tears on the corner of your eyes were now rolling down the surface of your cheeks. Through choked sounds, you encouraged Shouto to keep going and going until you could touch heaven by the tip of your fingers. And then heaven came to you, the liberating sensation of floating on a cloud overwhelmed you as you reached your orgasm, manifesting the pure sounds of bliss through the hushed sounds caused by Bakugou’s intrusive length.

« You’re such a good girl, love, you came undone for us. Such a good girl… » The end of his sentence was whispered in marvel against your core, it was a sight he could never get bored of.

His tongue found once more its way to your folds, licking each and every drop of your juices to satisfy his own pleasure. Your taste was his favorite, it was addicting as hell, so addicting that before to swallow said juices, he would always make a mental note of how your cum feels on his tastebuds.

« Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, god-fucking-damnit! » Bakugou’s grunts followed the structure of a crescendo, he threw his head back in pure pleasure— he was so close, so fucking close, he wanted to reach the seventh sky as well.

Todoroki grabbed him by the nape of his neck, his fingers digging right in Katsuki’s flesh, and planted his lips still coated with your juices right upon his. Bakugou could taste your sweet nectar on Shouto’s lips, and perhaps it was the last thing necessary for him to come undone— your taste always had the ability to bring him over the edge, and once more, this time was no exception. Bakugou groaned against Shouto’s lips before breaking the contact between them to share a pure sound of ecstasy of his own and eventually, come undone right in your mouth. A string of the blonde’s cum dripped down from the corner of your mouth, and observing you use your tongue to collect the remaining cum on your chin made Bakugou if he wasn’t going to come undone twice in a row at the sight of this.

« Come on, love, we’re not done yet. » This was the final chapter of all of Shouto’s fantasies, a chapter which was finally bound to take form.

Todoroki snaked his arms around your form to place you right on his lap, once the position was comfortable for the both of you, he placed his length right against your twitching core which was already begging for him to fill you.

« Please, j-just fuck me already… Please… » Another auditive wonder— the sound of you begging was worthy of the most beautiful symphony.

« You asked so nicely, love, who am I to refuse? » A rhetorical question, as expected of Shouto when he led the teasing game.

Shouto filled you instantly, shoving his entire length inside you which caused the unexpected appearance of a moan which you could hardly suppress even by biting your lower lip. An initiative quickly ended by Bakugou’s intervention who tilted your head just enough so he could plant a rough kiss upon your lips in order to prevent you from hushing those sounds of pleasure any longer.

« Don’t be fucking shy, let us hear what you gotta’ say, baby girl. » You looked at Katsuki with pleading eyes, you knew that you were not going to be able to suppress or refrain any of your moans or whimpers, you knew you were bound to become a vocal mess.

Shouto’s hands held a strong grip on your waist, so strong that the tip of his fingers turnt white under the pressure. His rhythm was frantic from the beginning, using the combination of his hips bucking upwards and his arms wrapped around your middle to clash against his testicles. You had the best spot to hear up close and personal the ravishing sounds of bliss coming out of Shouto’s mouth like a broken record. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as a desperate cry for support as his hips were pounding deep inside you until reaching your cervix.

Behind you, Bakugou had already made sure to wet his fingers to prep you. Prep you for what exactly? Oh, well, we all know Bakugou doesn’t handle well being left alone, especially when Todoroki has the advantage of him. The tip of his fingers brushed against your rectum until two of them entered your second hole, he expected this reaction but your moans were ethereal, especially when he was the cause of them. His fingers pumped into your rectum just enough for you to get used to the stretch and to the knew (and double) sensation.

« Be a good fucking girl for daddy and let him fuck you from behind, yeah? » He studied your facial expression and the irregular pattern of your breaths to know whether or not you were fond of his new antics, to which you confirmed his doubts by whispering an almost inaudible « Y-Yes, daddy… »

Nonetheless, the elongated moan you let out in his favor once his fingers reached a bit deeper in your rectum was enough for him to get the clue and replace the feeling of his index and middle finger with the width of his length. A pure sound of pleasure with his name written all over it, if you were to ask Bakugou, he would tell you right away that this is what heaven felt like.

« I-I’m going to cum, I can’t-… » Shouto’s hot breath crashed against your equally as hot skin, it became impossible for him to suppress his grunts any longer.

Bakugou mirrored his pace which had suddenly quickened under the pressure erupting in his lower belly, he could already touch the clouds of the seventh sky, and you were the key to unlocking the divine skies of heaven.

« Fuck… Fuck, I’m close too. » Their grunts matched in unison under the melody of your repetitive moans caused by the double pressure.

With one last thrust from both protagonist, you felt two rushes of hot liquids invade your insides as a moan signed their orgasm. That was it, they came undone and touched heaven as they came inside of you, all the pent up pressure in their abdomen had been set free for your greatest pleasure. You rolled your head back on Katsuki’s shoulder, oxygen had become a rarity under the frantic thrusts of the two newfound victims of passion. Once your lungs felt full again, you released an elongated sigh which drained all of your strength in the process.

Bakugou pulled out first, causing you to whimper at the sudden sensation of vacuity replacing the ever so addictive sensation of being filled by the man who held the keys to your heart. As he pulled out, his arms snaked around your middle and he dragged you with him, hot breaths crashing against your blazing skin. Katsuki put your head over his chest while you mustered up the last bits of vigor you could invoke to find shelter in his comforting embrace.

As soon as Shouto evened his breathing pattern, he felt the urge to join you and Katsuki— laying by your side, his arms draped over your waist, he felt at peace with the two most important people in his life, the true definition of perfection to him. Silence came back again, but this time it was comforting, a silence which held all the fierceness of your feelings for one another. A few kisses were planted here and there on your skin as a silent way to show gratitude, but all three of you were absolutely drained because of passion.

« If you’re still feeling cold, I know a fucking way or two to fix this shitty problem, princess. »

#shoto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todobaku #todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shouto x katsuki #todoroki x bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #todobaku x reader

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

Lightning pt.3

Thor Odinson x Odinsdottir!reader, Loki Laufeyson x Odinsdottir!reader

Summary: After the death of your brother Loki, and Frigga, things in Asgard change drastically, just like your father. Where he was cold and distant before, now he’s caring and attentive. And you didn’t mind his change, in fact you loved that he had this new time for you, yet when you find out the truth behind his actions, how will you react?

Warning- Fluff, violence, angst

———-

Bright colors flew past you as you were suddenly traveling through the rainbow bridge up to Asgard, traveling at a speed that you were used to and could handle, but one that was overwhelming at the moment because of the fact that you were being chased by some new and psychotic older sister.

You had the instinct to throw her off course. But when you looked down, as you were going to attempt hitting her, you noticed your older brothers were in the way and you couldn’t hit her without accidentally hurting them.

Yet you had to try something, she was catching up too fast—“Loki!”

At your warning said man looks down at the threat below him and tries to throw her a dagger through the whirlwind of colors surrounding all you, but as he did, she swiftly caught his dagger and threw it back at him, throwing him off course with one hit and causing you to yell out for him, “Loki! No!”

You watch as Hela catches up to Thor and begins to fist fight with him, creating a sword to hurt him, but before she could, using the rage building up within you after she hurt Loki, you create a lightning bolt and throw it at her and manage to hit her arm. Thor finds a chance to get out of her grip and pushes her off him, but in doing so he pushes himself off the course and disappears just like Loki had. Leaving you to deal with Hela as she was trying to catch up to you too.

“You know I’ve always wanted a sister!” She exclaims through the rainbow bridge. “I’m happy to know that I have one now! Kneel and I'll spare you!”

You scoff and offer her a smug smirk, “you know I’ve also always wanted a sister! Give up on your foolish dreams and let’s go be what our father could never give us! A family!”

Hela rolls her eyes and creates a sword to attempt to hurl it at you, but as she tries, you also create a lightning bolt and throw it at her at the same time. Causing both objects to crash into each other and create a big explosion that throws you forward and back home, while she gets thrown back, giving you some time before she came to do something.

“Princess! What’s going on, where are your brothers?!”

You look back to Thor’s warrior friends and give them the answer they seeked with a shake of your head. You stretch your hands out and create more lightning bolts in both hands whilst you try to shout back at Volstagg. “Close it! Close it.”

The man doesn’t question you and before he could, he was too late and Helas figure had already taken shape at the entrance, she once again tried to throw a sword at you, but as it flew towards you, you caught the movement and moved at the speed of light. In doing so, slowing down everything around you.

Small sparks flashed around you and you had the chance to look at your surroundings much clearer, you had the chance to go towards the sword and clutch it in your own hand as an idea sparked in your head. Instead of throwing the sword at her, you threw it to the side and sprinted towards her to tackle her out of the bridge without caring that you would also fall out as it was closing.

However as you moved and were about to wrap your arms around her, you caught her eyes following you, somehow moving at your speed and creating a black dagger that she punctures through your chest, moving quickly and throwing you back to knock you out of your moment and forcing you back to normal speed—“shit,” you hiss.

You clutch onto your aching wound and wince, you try to refocus on your surroundings, on the fight going on in the same room, but your injury left you dazed and slow. You heard your blood pounding in your ears and saw your eyesight blur. The thought of giving up and staying on the ground sounded easy, it sounded like a pleasant dream, but the fighter within you didn’t allow you to just stay on the ground. You had to get up and fight back; for your planet, for your family and for your people.

So you roll onto your stomach and groan out loudly from the pain. You slowly push yourself up, but as you do, you feel someone else’s familiar presence in your head. Heimdall.

“You’ll die if you try to fight her. Your people appreciate your fighting efforts, Princess, but you’ll do them a better service if you escape now.”

You part your lips to rebuttal, but he cuts you off before you can.

“Don’t speak, you’ll give yourself away. Come find me and I’ll help you.”

An image flashes before you as if you were seeing the forest yourself and you knew that was your answer. So with what little strength you have left, you finally stand to your feet and speed away. Finding Heimdall exactly where he had shown you he’d be.

“Heimdall,” you groan, “I’m sorry, I'm sorry I didn’t do anything to stop him from kicking you out.”

Heimdall grabs your shoulder and assures you, “it’s not your fault, you were tricked by Loki, just like we all were.” He begins to walk you to sit on a large rock and has someone bring first aid. “Now let’s patch you up, you have to help your brothers return home.”

Your eyes brighten up and a hopeful smile tugs on your features. “They’re alive?”

“Yes and they need your help.” He informs, “you need to come back and fight your sister together.”

——

“He’s off again,” you mumble as you watch your father walk Thor off. “And he’s going to return in a couple days, but father acts as if he’s leaving for years on end. It’s my birthday and he’s gone all day without saying a word.”

Loki finally stands at your side and looks down at what you were watching and lets out a sigh before he tries his best to assure you. “Thor remembered, so did Frigga.”

“Not father.” You point out as you push yourself off the railing and begin to walk off. “Not like it’s a surprise.” You see Loki follow you at your side and he watches you carefully as you try to maintain unbothered. You walk to the throne room and look up to the portrait on the ceiling. “At least we’re up there right.”

“You know I can start teaching you some magic, or we can do something you like,” Loki suggests, “for your birthday or what not.”

You drop your head and look at him and shoot him a sweet smile. “I thought you said I couldn’t do magic.”

Loki shrugs, “maybe I was wrong and well it’s something to prove to father.”

“Okay,” you grin, “Sounds good.”

——

As you land in this unknown, ugly, trash planet, you begin to maneuver through the celebrating crowd and look for Thor.

Heimdall said he was here and you trusted him. Yet was it worth your energy coming to this weird planet.

….yes.

Nevertheless you avoid being pulled to where the crowd was going, and ignore the green monster they were all celebrating. You keep your eyes out for Loki, but he, like Thor, isn't around. No one let you talk to even try to ask for your brothers, and your wound was hurting making everything much harder and everyone much more annoying.

And it wasn’t until around twenty minutes later, did you finally accidentally bump into the person you were looking for. Even if at first you didn’t recognize him. “Sorry.”

“Y/N?”

You stop and look back to see your brother walking your way with something covering his head. “Y/N, is that you?”

“Yes,” you mutter as you curiously study his face, “is that really you?”

“Yes! Did you not recognize me because of my disguise?”

You scoff and shake your head, “no, your disguise sucks. It’s your hair, what happened to your hair?”

“Some old man cut it off.” He explains still leaving you confused. “Come on let’s talk later, right now I’m looking for a friend.”

“A friend?” You question whilst you begin to follow at his side and continue maneuvering through the crowd. “Where’s Loki?”

“He’s—” Thor cuts himself off as his attention seems to get stolen by someone. He quickly grabs your wrist and pulls you with him until you stop in front of a huge beast. Yet before either of you could fight it something flies on its neck and electrifies it. When it falls down there's a single woman standing there that your brother greets. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she greets bluntly.

“I was gonna do that.” Thor adds.

“Yeah well I did it first.” She quips.

Whilst they have their little conversation you look at the man behind you over your shoulder, he meets your gaze and tilts his head while his eyes search your face as if trying to piece you together and find a name to a face. When you look away you try to figure out who he was and if he was the friend Thor was looking for, or if it was the beautiful woman before you. But basing off the fact that Thor had protected this little man, you had to come to the conclusion that it was him.

Nonetheless you followed Thor and his new friends, but not without questioning him about them. “Thor, who are they? Are these the friends you were looking for?”

Thor points to the man behind you and adds, “yeah him. That’s a friend from earth.”

“One of the avengers?” You question excitedly. “Is that, Iron Man?”

“No, it’s Bruce Banner!”

You blink and look over your shoulder for a brief second, “oh.”

“Who is that?” Bruce asks, pointing at you.

“My sister!” Thor shouts over the crowd.

“The evil one?”

“No!” Thor scoffs, “my little sister. Y/N.”

You clutch onto your wound and groan softly, Thor doesn’t notice, and you don’t want him to just yet. Before he could even do so, or question anything else about you, you ask about the woman walking ahead. “Who is that?”

Thor leans towards you and talks in a loud whisper, “that’s a Valkyrie.”

“Really?!” You exclaim as you look over at her wide eyed. “That’s so cool! I never thought I’d seen one anymore.”

Ever since you were a child, you’ve heard great stories of the fearless warriors that were the Valkyrie, you’ve always admired them and always wished to become one. That was until you found out that they had all died. That was a bit disappointing.

“What are those things on her eyes?” You hear Bruce ask Thor. “Are those people that she's killed? She’s so beautiful and strong and courageous.”

“Who is this guy?” She finally turns and asks once you were in another dirty building. “I feel like I know you.”

“I feel like I know you too,” he points out while you all continue to follow her. Stopping a couple minutes in as she turns to face your brother.

“Look, I’ve spent years in a haze, trying to forget my past. Sakaar seemed like the best place to drink and forget, and to die one day.”

“I was thinking that you drink too much and that probably was gonna kill you.” Thor interjects after her.

“I don’t plan to stop drinking.

“Oh.”

“But I don’t wanna forget, I can’t turn away anymore, so if I’m gonna die, well, it may as well be my sword through that murderous hag.” She finishes confidently, making you smile proudly and in admiration.

“Good,” Thor nods.

“So, I’m saying that I wanna be on the team. Has it got a name?” The Valkyrie queries.

“Yeah, it’s called the Revengers.”

You pinch your eyebrows together and you tilt your head to question the name. “Revengers?”

The Valkyrie and you share a look to question the same thing before paying attention to Thor’s explanation.“Because I’m getting revenge,” Thor explains to the group, “you’re getting revenge,” he directs to the Valkyrie. “Do you want revenge?” He turns to Bruce.

“I’m undecided,” He stammers out, letting Thor finally turn to you.

“You want revenge too?”

You discreetly grab onto your wound and nod with a smile on your face. “Of course!”

“Also,” The Valkyrie adds, “I've got a peace offering.” She proceeds to walk to a room, opening a door and revealing that splendid surprise; your older brother Loki.

“Surprise.”

#avengers #marvel #Thor odinson #loki laufeyson #lightning #hela odinsdottir #Valkyrie #bruce banner #thor ragnorak #Thor odinson x odinsdottir!reader #loki odinson #loki laufeyson x odinsdottir!reader #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #odinsdottir #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

Text

I did write a lot of words of a self indugent fic because I’m having a serious breakdown over row and these two madly in love idiots. I’m sorry I haven’t really proof read it and I don’t know what this is, I wrote it in an impulse, but I’m gonna share it for whoever needs to ease the pain of waiting another two days for row. Sending you big hugs for all the breakdowns to come. As usual i need to thank the two halves of my heart @not-just-human and @claudiarya because they're my biggest inspiration and for all the meltdowns we share ily

burning flames and raging fires

“Damn it.”

Nikolai paced the room, relentless, frantically searching for something or someone to unleash his rage on. He fisted his hands, trying to stop the violent shakes of fury that were bolting through him.

“Damn it!”

His voice came out hoarse, in a low snarl that seemed to call his demon to the surface. He slammed his hands on the table, squeezing his eyes shut. They attacked Lazlayon. The truth of what had happened was still taking root in his mind. The Fjerdans attacked Lazlayon. They attacked us. His military base, supposedly the secret one. How for all the Saints were they able to do that? How many losses had there been? Who tipped them off? All appropriate, rational questions he should have been trying to find an answer to right now, instead of walking through every corner of the sitting room of Zoya’s chamber, caught by the sheer terror of not knowing how she was. He glanced at the closed doors, barely registering the swarm of people coming and going beside him, the whirl of red keftas worn by Healers. Every time someone came in, he felt the wrenching urge of running to her, sweep her in his arms and take her to safety. Except there was nobody to protect her from right now anymore, and he had already failed at keeping her out of harm’s way. And he could do nothing but wait, sulking in his own despair and anger, while strangers tended to her.

“Your Highness.” Tolya called him as soon as he stepped in the room. The giant was still covered in sweat and dust, one of his arms badly bloodied. If the blood were his own, Nikolai could not tell. He had rarely seen his guard shaken and out of breath. He forced himself to straighten up his spine and try to focus his mind on one thought.

“Tell me.”

“We got as many as we could out, and we sealed the tunnels. We should be safe. It was a targeted attack; they knew we were there.”

Tamar growled, frustrated, holding her axes so hard her knuckles went white. As many as we could. How many? And what horrified him the most, he could not bring himself to truly care. The only person he cared about had saved their lives and was sealed behind a door he could not cross. He never hated himself as much as now. As if he could read his look, Tolya avoided his gaze, turning to his sister.

“How is the general?”

“The injuries seemed bad, but – I don’t know. Genya is inside.” Tamar answered, her eyes running to Nikolai as she spoke. “She’s going to be fine, she’s tougher than all of us put together.”

Nikolai felt it was a reassurance she was giving to herself as much as everyone else in the room. He could hear nothing but the deafening thrumming of his own heart, the panic gripping his insides and blurring his mind, the air constantly catching in his lungs. Every breath was like a painful stab in his heart, the oxygen felt like fire. His brain was torn apart; one side of it was scrabbling for solutions, making up plans and possibilities, while the other stayed gripped on the sound of her voice. The attack was all a blur, his memory was struggling to grasp strands of it. He remembered the explosions, the screaming, the utter chaos they unleashed on the Gilded Bog. It was a succession of sounds and bright flashes and the smell of blood and gunpowder. There was only one vivid image he could hold on to: Zoya with her arms stretched out to the sky and her feet planted in the ground, standing between them and the enemy, silk black hair hovering around her. As she threw her fists open, a thunderous rumbling noise had shaken the ground, the sound similar to the one that preceded an earthquake. In one split second the waters had risen from the lake, growing in a monstrous tide, swirling with Juris’ blue fire and speeding towards their opponents. Then, everything had started crumbling down on them, shattered by the force of her powers. Zoya’s diversion had saved them, providing them the time to distract the Fjerdans and run through the tunnel that connected Lazlayon to the Grand Palace. The rest, he did not want to remember. He wanted to erase from his mind Zoya toppling to the ground after being struck by the Fjerdans bullets, with the entire world crashing around her, the faint groaning she let out as she held her in his arms. Most of all, he wanted to forget her silence, or how he felt empty and powerless when someone had taken her from his hold and shut the door in his face. He knew how much his general would have scolded him if she could see him now. Pull yourself together, King Wretch, she would have said. Remember who you are. Nikolai was the king, and the king could ill afford to sulk in his anxiety and worry with his country’s safety hanging on a thread. And still, he could not bring himself to care, he could not find the strength to walk away. Not until he knew she was safe. Then you can spend the rest of the day telling me how much of an idiot I am. Please wake up and do it. He pulled the words out, tucking at the last strand of sanity he seemed to find.

“Tamar, I need you to double the security in the palace. And send scouts all over Os Alta to patrol the borders. We need to be prepared if they choose to push their attacks further.”

Tamar nodded, without leaving the grip on her weapons, her face strained. A rush of adrenaline washed over him, numbing the pain for a second.

“Tolya, no one followed us? Are we sure?”

“No one did. We blew up every entrance to the tunnels as soon as we got out.”

“Gather the other generals, tell them we’ll meet in the war room of the Grand Place to discuss how to proceed. Bring them up to the date on what happened, I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“Your Highness”, Tolya tried, gently, “it would be best if you – “.

Nikolai cut him short. “I’m not leaving here until Zoya is awake.” The twins exchanged a glance, without daring to contradict his firm and cold tone or dwell on the implications of what he had just said. He did not care about this either. He did not care about anything anymore; Ravka could burn to the ground as far as he was concerned right now. Eager Ravka, which was now trying to take from him the person he held most dear. Keeping up the façade had been already tiring enough the last few weeks, but this was utterly unbearable. The doors of her chambers slammed open, and they all snapped towards the sound. Genya took a couple of steps towards them, scrubbing her hands with a clean cloth. Her hair were damp in her face, her shoulders slumped, but she locked her eye on Nikolai’s ones with a reassuring gaze that flooded him with relief.

“She’s going to be fine.” She exhaled, closing her eye for a moment, and taking a long breath in. “Thank the Saints, it looked worse than it was. The injuries were not deep, nor vital.”

Genya explained, carefully marking every word. The reprieve sank in slowly, tearing through the curtains of desperation that plagued him. Nikolai released his breath. The whole air in the room seemed to shift, the tension flowing away. He heard Tolya faintly muttering a prayer under his breath, and for once, he understood him. As much as he had never liked the dragon, maybe Juris was the actual Saint they should thank now. Tamar let out a nervous chuckle. That was all he needed; he rushed toward her door but was stopped by Genya’s hand catching his arm in a firm hold.

“Your Highness – “She hissed, glancing at him from under her lashes and lowering her voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Nikolai was taken aback by the fire glinting in her amber eye, red and swollen from tears and exhaustion. She loosened her grip; he felt her hand shaking slightly, a whole tremor running through her. Her look was vengeful, enraged – and tired. His own panic was mirrored in her, but she had been the one to clean Zoya’s wounds, to watch her as she had hoped to see her eyes flutter open. Zoya hardly spoke of her affections, so Nikolai tended to forget how close the two of them were and how fiercely they protected each other.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Eliciting a diplomatic incident on top of an armed attack is what I think you’re doing.”

He let out a disgruntled breath, searching the room with his eyes. It was still full of people, coming and going, occasionally sneaking a glance at him. Studying his reactions. He wanted to send them all to hell, to scream to clear the way and spend the night listening to Zoya’s breathing.

“I need to see her, Genya.”

“And have you stopped to think on what she needs?” Again, he was startled. Genya’s voice cracked, her amber eye filling with new tears of frustration. She yanked his arm free, brushing them away and composing herself. “I’m sorry, Nikolai. I am not mad at you. But you are getting married in a week”, she inhaled, steadying her voice. “I can’t let you barge in there and have people witness you having a meltdown over your general. Zoya does not need this. She needs you to be the king and solve this situation, since she had already saved you once today. It’s your turn.”

Nikolai took the daring decision to ignore how truthful her words were and how they were filling him with shame. His own selfishness had a much tougher grip on him.

“I need to see that Zoya is safe. I can’t do my job if I don’t.”

“General Nazyalensky - ”, she corrected him, sending another threatening glare his way, “- is fine. I made sure of it personally.” Genya’s gaze softened, as she gently tugged him toward a more discreet corner. “Nikolai, you need to calm down. I told you it looked worse than it was. She is not even conscious right now; they have given her a sleeping tonic that is going to last for a while. You can trust me; she is safe and out of danger. Go be our king, please, and leave this to me.”

Nikolai fell silent for a moment, turning he matter over in his head and trying to bring himself to gather some composure. “I hate it when people are so reasonable”, he huffed, “I can’t even assert my authority when I’m being the irrational one.” A faint smile tugged Genya’s lips. He trusted her with Zoya’s safety and could see the clarity of her look under all the distress of the situation. If she had promised him Zoya was fine, there was no reason to doubt her. Reason. Something he was missing entirely right now. Genya spoke again, an edge to her voice.

“If I was Zoya I would have already tried to murder you or just slapped you into some sense, you know?”

“I do. Thank you for not slapping me.”

She shook her head, still trembling, and smoothed her kefta, returning to an affectionate tone. “Come back after the meeting. I will make sure everyone is gone by that time and I will wait for you. You can see her then.”

Nikolai nodded, feeling another gust of wind clearing the clouds from his mind, although he still did not much appreciate the idea of leaving. That had always been his life, pulled away by duty, failing to protect the people he held dear and then abandoning them to their fates. He slowly got back control, slipping inside his confident mask.

“Try not to be seen. You are still getting married in a week.”

Genya added. The warning was clear, on a lot of different levels. The despise he felt for his position, for the way he was conducting himself, for how coward he felt he was being, all those feelings towered over him, threatening to drown him. Nikolai shut his eyes, shoving the worry and self-deprecation aside for another time. He had the Fjerdans and his own desire for revenge to deal with now. Gesturing for Tolya to follow him they took the corridor to the palace. The king could not help but feel he had left his own heart behind and sensed a silent hollow in his chest.

***

It was well past midnight when the last of his soldiers left, and he was finally free to rush to the Little Palace. Being away from Zoya had felt like a limb was being teared away from him, the blood spilling from an open cut. His mind kept slipping to her, and he had spent the last hours trying to keep it leashed on the issues at hand. The terror never left him; he kept dreading for someone to walk through the room with dreadful news of her, kept staring at the doors waiting for this imaginary servant that never came. He would be forever grateful to Genya, who at the chime of every hour had sent him concise notes updating him on Zoya’s conditions. To be truthful, it had been the only thing that kept him sane. He felt a rush of anticipation and renewed worry as he pushed the handle of her room, the one that had previously been the Darkling’s property. Nikolai let himself be thankful for a brief moment for the Darkling’s gift for deception. He had built his rooms to be easily accessed from the palace in complete secrecy, to be protected by curious ears and prying eyes. That came in handy right now; however, he did not stop to think of how shameful this thought was, or how much he loathed having to snuck to her rooms like a hidden thief. To his relief, Tamar was on guard outside her chamber. Nikolai did not want to meet Genya’s severe and knowing gaze again, the one that seemed to peer right into his soul. Tamar got up when she sensed him arrive.

“Your Highness.”

“Is everything alright?”

“It is. Zoya is still sleeping, the tonic they gave her is strong. The Healers said she needs to rest as much as she can for the wounds to heal properly, but she should be back up on her feet in a couple of days.”

He acknowledged her words with a nod of his chin and headed inside, but Tamar stopped him clearing her throat. “Genya has asked me to tell you she’ll be back in the early morning to check on Zoya and tailor away what she can. She said it would be best for you to go back before dawn.”

“I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Tamar.”

He did not have the will to fight this now. They were all tremendously right, and he hated it. He knew he was being unfair; he should not be mad at them for trying to keep up the appearances when he clearly was ignoring how to do it. Guess the king had one true weakness after all.

He locked the door behind him, and every thought and worry he had disappeared when his eyes caught her figure. He had never seen Zoya look so frail, so human and defenceless. It tore every fibre of his being apart, snatching the hair out of his lungs. She was laying on her side, with her hair splashed and tangled around her bewitching face. Nikolai tried not to linger too much on her cuts and bruises, on the bandages that peaked over the clean shirt someone put on her. Each and every one he laid his eyes on sent a stabbing pain through him.

Why do you always have to play the hero?

He thought sourly as he came closer to her. He could almost hear her voice answering him.

Because you are my king, and I am the general. It is kind of my role.

The lamplight played on her skin with the glowing rays of the moon, making her look like a nightly creature who had emerged from a bedtime fairy-tale. Trying to be as delicate as he could, he placed a chair next to her bed and slumped in it, sighing heavily. He leaned towards her, brushing some hair away from her face, untangling them slowly with his fingers. He could imagine her getting mad at the Healers for neglecting to care for it, vain and petty as always. Even the thought of this made him smile and warmed him up. He kept his work for a little while, clearing the mess of her mane as best as he could without disturbing her too much. Zoya shifted in the covers but did not wake up. As Tamar warned him, the tonic was strong enough to keep her in her sleep. His fingers lingered on her cheeks and her lips before he pulled himself away, scorched by the improper touch he had let himself have.

Nikolai did not know how much time he spent just looking at her, taking the sight of a safe and placid Zoya. At some point, he straightened himself up, and was pulled out of his trance when his eyes caught a bandage on her arm where a bright red flower was blossoming through the linen. He was not sure if the Healer had not changed it, or the wound was opening again. He scanned the room, finding some clean strip of cloth and a bowl of cold water they left there. He took them and brought them back to his seat, pondering if and how to proceed. He could not stand the sight of blood on her; it was too gutting to take. Picking up his resolve, he rolled up his sleeves and gently tugged her arm towards him, starting to undo the previous bandage. When the last strip fell off, he dipped a clean cloth in the water and brushed the wound again until her skin was clear, feeling another rush of relief.

Every once in a while, Zoya stirred and let out a croaked breath, he saw her lashes flutter, or he felt a shiver ran through her. He stilled when she moved, terrified to wake her up and break the spell. Nikolai felt like he was stealing a precious and prohibited moment, a forbidden intimacy. Every touch of her skin felt sacred, felt like a prayer ushered in the quiet of night. He had never thought, never believed he could feel this kind of profound and pure love for someone. Even though he had long since accepted and acknowledged what he felt, it was still hard to grasp how deep it ran in his veins, how unforgiving the need of her was. It shattered everything else in its wake. It had begun like a small spark, nourished by stolen glances, gentle touches and truths whispered in the dark, fostered by forgotten secrets they had shared only to each other and simple moments that had withered away like the wind. And now the fire was blazing, the flames thriving and consuming whatever else there was. She had nestled herself in the deepest part of his heart where a storm was raging its fury. It was nothing like the tepid sentiment he had had for other people in the past. And he did not want to believe he was going to lose her, to turn his back on her. He would never be the same again, after loving her like this. After wanting her and longing for her like this. He would never, could never survive it, desire or have anyone that was not her. And for once, he just let this feeling flood, he just let himself relish in it and in the certainty that she was here, with him, by his side. Nothing else mattered right now, nothing could taint this. He wished she could hear him if he whispered in her ear.

I am in love with you.

He wished he could free his heart and let it hope. He wished she could believe him if he promised her.

Nothing will ever stop me from loving you.

Maybe she could not hear him, but he would promise anyway, against every odd and reality they were living. Whatever was bound to happen, he would hold on to this bond. Nikolai laid back her arm to rest on the bed and tucked her covers when he finished, getting up and pouring himself a glass of her favourite cordial he knew she kept hidden in one of her desk’s drawers. Another thing she would kill him for, to add to the long list of reasons he had already piled up in these years. The alcohol burned his throat but helped him ease his mind a bit more. Zoya was breathing evenly and quietly again, and he finally felt sure enough that she was past harm. The exhaustion he had hoarded and kept under control creeped up to him at this realization. Maybe he could let himself rest too. He eyed a small sofa from which he could still see her if he laid in it, that seemed like a good enough place to close his eyes for a while. It was placed on the side of her bed, near enough to her that he could feel her warmth, hear her movements if she needed him. He put the glass down on her nightstand, holding her hand up to him to leave a soft kiss on her knuckles and cupping her cheek briefly.

“Rest well, my ruthless Zoya.”

He muttered against her skin, hovering with his lips on her neck. He resisted the urge to lean closer to her mouth; he had stirred away from propriety far enough for one night. And do not ever leave me, even if I don’t deserve you, Nikolai added in his mind, as he leaned his head on the cushion and snuck a last glance at Zoya before his eyes dropped close and the familiar scent of wildflowers drifted him to sleep.

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #zoyalai #grishaverse #fan fiction #my writing #rule of wolves #nikolai duology #when will you confess nikolai please #we cant wait anymore #i really dont know what this is just a self indulgent midnight writing #Grishaverse fic #king of scars #post kos

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r3volutionary-queen · 3 years

Text

Ignition Chapter 30 Sneak Peek (Unedited)

There was a charred scent in the air. Darcy blinked blindly, the gray smoke obscuring her vision and stinging her eyes. She lay flat on her back in a patch of burnt grass, dazed and shaking all over. The world was spinning and everything hurt; her heart was throbbing almost painfully in her chest. It was not meant to keep up with this level of panic, with the amount of terror she had been in.

The screaming didn’t help either. All around her was screaming; screams of pain, screams of rage, screams of death.

War.

And somehow, she was lying flat on her back, staring up at the sky while a galaxy-sized battle raged.

Maybe they think I’m dead, she thought. And then—

Maybe I am dead.

She had certainly thought she was going to die, had been sure of it. Especially when Steve—

Darcy gasped, jolting like she had touched a live wire. She pushed her elbows and then the heels of her palms into the ground, shoving her body to sitting. Wild-eyed, she twisted around to the spot where she had last seen him, crying out in pain as Thanos swung his sword down over and over and over. The Steve-shaped concave in the ground was empty and that should have given her some measure of relief, but it didn’t. It didn’t because she was alone and there were endless potential graves in this place. She needed to see him with her own two eyes to know that he was okay.

Wind whipped her dark hair across her face and she swept her arm over her eyes, trying to clear her vision. An explosion sounded from somewhere to her right and her whole body jumped. She didn’t know what to do, where to go. She couldn’t just stay here forever like a sitting du—

A hand latched onto her shoulder and Darcy screamed, whirling around.

Bucky flinched back, his metal hand releasing her immediately, eyes wide and wary. “Woah, hey it’s okay,” he was panting heavily, a bead of sweat slid down his temple. “Easy, Darce,” Bucky crouched next to her, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to calm a spooked horse. “It’s just me.”

She stared at him for the longest time, uncomprehending. Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, brows pulling together in worry. And then the dam broke—

“Bucky?” Darcy breathed, her voice shaking terribly. Her heart wrenched, piercing straight through her. The edges of her vision went blurry; hot tears welled, threatening to tip over the edge and make the jump down her cheek.

Her chin wobbled.

“Yeah Sunshine,” the nickname fell from his lips thickly and Bucky’s throat bobbed before he could speak again. Everything about the man turned soft. “It’s me. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

She didn’t register his gentle questions, couldn’t get past the fact that he was here, in front of her. After everything.

“Bucky!” Darcy screeched, her voice reedy and bleeding all over the place. The first tear made the jump, plopping down onto her chest and the rest followed. Watching her, his face twisted, like he was in pain, and then she was saying his name louder—“BUCKY!”

An insane fervor seized her and she scrambled to her knees clumsily, reaching for his hand, the only thing she could touch in this burning, awful world, and as if he knew, as if he knew her (and he did), Bucky shifted forward on his toes and met her right where she was. Warm metal cupped the side of her face and Darcy latched onto his wrist and forearm with both hands, desperate and greedy, nails digging into the metal ridges and it was a good thing, she thought, that it wasn’t flesh, because it meant she could hold onto him in a place beyond pain.

And now that she was holding onto him, Darcy wasn’t sure she could ever let go.

The last time she let go, she ended up on Thanos’ ship and—

“I’m sorry,” Darcy bawled, the words heaving out of her chest, tears pouring down her face. Her shoulders shook and for the life of her she couldn’t look away from Bucky because if she did—“I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, all of it is my fault. I—I—I shouldn’t have answered that fucking door, I knew—”

“Shh,” Bucky was shaking his head looking wrecked despite his steady voice. Blunt fingertips brushed her hair from her face, gently tucking it behind her ear. “Shh, Darce. Not now. I’ve got you,” he ducked his head, purposefully holding her gaze and lifted both brows. “I found you, didn’t I? I’m here. Breathe for me, honey.”

Darcy didn’t realize she had been hyperventilating until Bucky pointed it out. She tried to sniff but her nose was blocked, instead, Darcy sucked air through parted lips. He nodded encouragingly, thumb brushing down the apple of her cheek.

It was strange, this moment, in the middle of a war.

There was another explosion to her right, closer this time, and Bucky stiffened, glancing over his shoulder. His right arm lifted reflexively and that’s when Darcy noticed the shield.

Steve’s shield.

Steve.

Twisting around, she kept her grip on Bucky’s arm realizing that much of the fighting had shifted away from them—as if they were all chasing something. She couldn’t see what but she also couldn’t see Steve and that did nothing to help her panic.

Next to her there was a soft crackling sound, a sizzling, like meat over a grill, and she knew by the smell alone what it was. She remembered now what happened after she was released from Thanos’ hold—after she fell to the ground, how someone had wrenched a handful of her hair, baring her throat, ready to slice it open.

They never got the chance.

Darcy had lost count of how many had died as a result of Loki’s spell, but she knew that she owed the god her life. But the spell wasn’t what freed her from Thanos.

Her fingers tightened on Bucky’s arm.

It got his attention and he turned to her at the same moment she glanced at the pile of bloody intestines and minced meat. She wanted to throw up.

“No, don’t look,” Bucky wrenched his arm from her grasp and it hurt Darcy like her own limb had been torn off. Her hands snapped out, reaching for him again, refusing to let go even as he covered her eyes, shielding her from the spell’s gore. “Don’t look.”

She looked at him instead, those eyes that reminded her of the sky before a storm would break. Bucky’s gaze darted all over her face, like he was working up the courage to say something when—

A burst of movement behind her.

Bucky’s eyes snapped up, pupils shrinking to pinpoints, his nostrils flaring. He was on his feet, gun firing off twice in quick succession before Darcy could even react.

Heart pounding, her hands clapped over her ears as she made herself as small as possible. Bucky stepped over her, steadily shooting—

Pop! Pop-pop-pop!

Lifting her head, ears ringing, Darcy saw the body of a beast straight out of her nightmares fall to the ground not three feet from them. There were six bloody bullet holes in its chest. Bucky walked towards it calmly, nudging it with the toe of his boot until it rolled onto its back. The creature’s arm flopped, a last exhale weaving out between its blood-soaked fangs.

It was the first time Darcy had seen one up close.

Its skin was mottled, varying shades of red and black, like it had emerged from a great fire. There was a strange sort of slime covering its body; glassy eyes bulged, jaw unhinged in a scream that would forever lay trapped inside its chest.

“Up.”

The command hit her like a blast of cold air.

Darcy’s eyes flashed up and she actually shook because, for the briefest of seconds, it was as if she was staring up at someone else entirely. She had never seen this look in Bucky’s eyes, not even when they had been escaping the Compound.

Swallowing, she obeyed, shakily rising to her feet all the while keeping her gaze locked with his.

“Stay close to me,” Bucky instructed her next and that was her only warning before he turned and ran into the haze of smoke.

———

Someone stop me. I love writing the Soldier so much. He’s my murder kitten 😻

#darcy lewis #steve rogers #bucky barnes #wintershieldshock #ignition #fic snippet #fic sneak peek #wintershock #shieldshock #stucky #Darcy x Bucky #darcy x steve #steve x bucky #bucky x darcy x steve

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years

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Hi! Can I please request a Demetri x mate!fem!reader where he finds her (when she’s still human) severely injured, and he can sense she’s his mate, and decides to immediately turn her because he doesn’t want to lose her (I’m sure he wouldn’t take the chance of taking her to the hospital) and when she wakes up, she’s in the Volturi castle. I’m sure it’d be really shocking for her because she didn’t know about the vampires (she thought they were fiction), and now she’s a vampire and has a mate,Demetri. He would be so sweet when he’s helping her adjust!! Ooo what if she woke up as a vampire near Christmas time,and she’s really sad because she was going to spend Christmas with family, but now she’s a vampire, so she can’t, so Dem finds out everything he can about this “human custom” (I feel like he’d call Christmas this lol), and he sets up their room all Christmas like and gets her presents, mistletoe 😘, a tree, etc, and ahhh he would be so sweet, if she could cry, she’d be bawling omg... Also she would so somehow convince him to wear matching Christmas pajamas... And then Felix would walk in to see this LOL

This Thing You Call Christmas ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injury, violence and trauma.

Words: 5391

Summary: When a wrong turn down a dreary alleyway spells disaster for the reader, she finds that Chrismas miracles come in all forms. (I swear despite the warning tags there are some fluffy bits in this.)

It wasn’t really clear to you what had happened for several moments after the event. One moment you had simply been jogging to reach the end of an alleyway that had creepier vibes than an abandoned psychiatric ward, and the next you were…hot. Too hot. Just for a moment. So hot in fact you could feel how cool the breeze was on your skin. Everything in that one brief moment was so heightened and yet so confusing, your blood roaring in your ears and your mouth spouting protest after protest with some not so lady-like words at the man that had shoved you against the wall.

Then an explosion of pain in your side had ricocheted through each and everyone one of your ribs, bursting outward like a small, red hot explosion, the lava leaking out and soaking your shirt, your hip bone. It wasn’t until you looked down and saw the knife embedded in your gut that you understood what had happened. In that brief, infinitesimal moment, the world just stopped. Your jaw dropped, disbelief flooding your system as your eyes met your attackers. He was a scrawny little boy, dirt smudged on his face and clothes utterly ruined, homeless most likely and in desperate enough need of cash he’d stuck you with whatever he could find to get it.

“Please…take the bag just don’t pull out the-“

“Shit!” he swore, yanking the knife free of your abdomen to cut through the leather of your bag handle and steal it away. You cried out, knees giving way beneath you the moment he let you go. Just like that, he’d drastically reduced your chances of escaping this alleyway alive. The ground was cold and wet beneath your knees, typical British weather not on your side to make anything better in this shitty scenario.

“Fuck…f-fuck,” you whimpered, hand pressed to your side as you rapidly lost blood, “H-help! Someone help me! Help me please!” you called out. The wound in your side throbbed, a fiery kind of ache that radiated outward from the focal point and shot through every nerve ending your body possessed purely to torment you as you tried to stand up straight. Blood was seeping through the gaps in your fingers, your shirt soaked with it as you collapsed sideways into the wall. Gritting your teeth, you used your other arm to try and lever yourself up, hobbling forward a few steps. Every step was agony and you could feel the colour draining form your face, your heart beating hard in your chest as adrenaline pounded through your veins.

No matter how loud you cried out nobody seemed to hear your desperation. No matter how many steps you took the mouth of the alleyway seemed to get further away, or maybe it was your vision starting to tunnel, who knew? Your legs gave out and you hit the floor hard, face crunching into the cement and nose shattering upon impact. More blood burst over your face, hot and fresh, and your vision began to blacken at the edges. Gasping for air, tears stung your eyes. This was not how your life was supposed to end. You were young, only 22, you had so much to live for yet that you hadn’t been able to achieve or see or do. Bleeding out in an alleyway because of a mugging gone wrong? Not your idea of a good way to go out. Christmas was just around the corner, you were supposed to go back home and spend it with family, instead they would have to come to London and peer inside a body bag to identify their daughter.

After that, time became a blur. You had no way of honestly telling what happened next, the world going dark as you descended further and further into the pits of hell. It had to be hell, didn’t it? That was where the pits of flame swallowed you whole to torture you for eternity, right? You hadn’t stopped burning since you closed your eyes, a red hot poker too big for your veins being forced through them at an agonisingly slow speed, splitting nerve endings and peeling away your flesh inch by inch. The screams in your own head were deafening and you were sure the devil must have enjoyed watching you writhe on his table. The raging inferno just didn’t go away either. You weren’t sure what was worse, the intensity of the burn or the fact you actually started to get used to it.

That relief was never going to last, not when the devil liked to torture his victims. The fire began receding from extremities first, the tips of your fingers going blissfully cool, tingling with numbness as the flames dissipated and feeling began to return. It was like being submerged in cold water and you welcomed the blissful feeling, but even that was accompanied by a worse kind of pine, a searing, blistering agony in your chest that was eating away at your rabbiting heart. It was gone as quickly as it came, and for a second you forgot how to breathe, the air stolen from your lungs at the sudden, intense relief. No more fire, no more burning. With a sigh you finally unscrewed your eyes, or at least, it felt like you had kept them clenched shut for a thousand years at that point. There was no ache in your jaw though you were sure you had screamed, no pain in your body lingering from the torment it had gone through.

The only problem was how sensitive you felt. After burning for so long your body was reacting to everything, senses heightened to the point the world seemed surreal. The air was ripe with a thousand smells, your tongue tingling with the taste of each one and your eyes were so laser-focused on everything all at once it was difficult to focus on any one thing. Beneath your fingers you could feel every strand of cotton that made up the dark sheets you were lying on. Where even were you? This was…it wasn’t a hospital bed, too plush and the colours to deep for the neutral tones of a sickroom. There was expensive looking wooden furniture with rich, dark tones and photographs and a fireplace made of stone.

“It is a relief to see you awake.”

One moment you were relishing in the softness of sheets and sinking into a heavenly mattress, and the next you were flat against the wall across from you, your spine crunching through the stone even though it should have been the other way around. Your wide eyes looked down at the chunks of stone near your feet, the dust settling on your shoulders, and then you tried to estimate the distance between you and the bed. It was easily four meters. How had you crossed four meters in such a short time span? Don’t even start on your posture right now. Since when did you crouch and bare your teeth at people like that? It was like a deep, animalistic urge had taken over, your senses still screaming danger as you tried to take in all the new information, the new man.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the sharpest jawline you had ever seen on a man. The crystalline quality of his skin was equally as distracting, it was almost pearlescent he was so pale, and it distracted you just long enough that you didn’t notice the redness of his irises till after you had already become fascinated with starring at him. Chestnut brown hair looked soft enough to run your fingers through, golden strands interwoven and reflecting the minimal light coming in from the window. He wore a suit, the very definition of elegance as he sat back in a leather armchair and watched you carefully, like he was a talent-show judge maybe trying to decide if you were worth his time.

“Who are – oh.” You blinked, pulled out of your defensive stance by the sound of your voice. It was you but it…wasn’t. How could you sound so soprano sweet? It was almost like you had swallowed sugar and it was now sprinkled throughout your words. His head tilted, a smile pulling at full, pink lips to reveal the briefest flash of pearl white teeth.

“A man who means you no harm, I assure you. There are a lot of changes you need to be made aware of, things I do not expect you to fully believe right away but need you to know are true. Will you give me the time to explain once we have gotten you fed?” he asked. Fed? You wanted to ask what he meant because you weren’t honestly all that hungry, but his words reignited the fire in your body. Your throat was absolutely parched, ripping itself apart for any sort of relief. With a gasp you doubled over, hand flying to your throat like you might just be able to rip the pain out.

“I – w-what d-did you – gah!” you rasped. A large, warm hand found your shoulder, and though the touch of a stranger should have felt foreign and wrong it was relieving, soothing.

“You will focus much better once you have fed. Wait right here, I promise you it will be over soon.” He reassured you with a gentle rubbing motion on your shoulder. You weren’t too sure you could have moved even if you wanted to, your mind going haywire as the intense fire burned brighter, blazing through your throat. Water, you needed water. Stumbling towards the bright white porcelain of a bathroom, you threw the door open wider and gasped when the wood shattered against the tiles. It was difficult to think beyond the burning in your throat though as you forced the tap to turn on, trying to gulp down water in the hopes it might soothe your throat some. Gallons must have washed down your throat by the time the handsome stranger returned, and what came next was…a blur.

Everything was euphoric, and hazy, a fog slowly lifting from your mind. The sound of dripping water leaked into your consciousness, your nose smelling something incredibly rich and sweet that made your throat ache – the burn was thankfully gone. Though your ears and nose seemed to be working your eyes were not. All you could see was red, dark crimson coating the walls and, if your reflection was to be believed, you. It dripped from your chin, coating your lips a ruby red and staining the pretty black dress you had been wearing in large swatches. The handsome stranger was stood in the doorway, watching you with a hint of amusement in his irises. It took you a fraction of a second to understand where the red drenching had come from. A woman who might once have been pretty lay in your arms limp as a ragdoll, drained of all colour with her throat ripped out and trailing along her collarbone.

Her blood was quite literally on your hands.

With a gasp, you dropped her shattered body and almost slipped on the water blanketing the floor, your body righting itself at unnatural speed. You twisted, the horror on your face obvious as a sob ripped its way free of your chest, hands flying up to your mouth as a flurry of terror and guilt and horror washed through you. The tap had been warped, your fingerprints indented into the metal and the top twisted off. Water had flooded the entire bathroom, and as your panic grew more intense your eyes stung as though you wanted to cry, but no tears would come. You could barely breathe, yet you couldn’t feel your heart rabbiting in your chest as you knew it should. The tile shattered beneath your knees as you fell, not a scratch on you as you spotted the second body over the tips of your fingers. Splinters of wood had been soaked by the overflowing tap, the door almost as broken as the bodies at your knees.

“No. N- no, what happened to me?” you cried out, chest heaving as you buried your head in your hands. Within seconds you were enveloped by strong arms, a warm body moving in behind you until you were cradled close, shielded from the damage around you.

“Shhhh sh sh sh, everything is fine cara mia, you did well,” the smooth whisper was like the voice of the devil tempting you to sin further, “This is normal for our kind, this is how we survive, you have done no wrong.” He promised, whispering quiet reassurances while you struggled to calm. Whoever this man was, you should have been afraid of him. He had somehow made you blackout and murder two people, you’d cannibalised them actually, and whatever else he had done to you you were now abnormally strong to. He had made you into some sort of monster, and yet…

“Wh-why?” you sniffled. Why had this happened to you? Why had these two unfortunate souls had to die? Why had you burned so badly for so long? There was lots of questions and so little time to ask them, so many answers you weren’t actually sure you wanted. He was stroking your hair now, his embrace feeling safe and warm; while you were in his arms, you could almost forget about the scene surrounding you.

“Forgive me, I know this is overwhelming, but I could think of no other way to save you. I had to change you my love.” He whispered. Your sobbing had died to sniffles now, and you lifted your head to look up at him, feeling lost and desperate for anything that might make sense. It was all so confusing and the only thing grounding you right now was him, because you could just sense that he was the same as you, only he was much more sure of what he was and his place in the world.

“Change?”

“Yes, change. I had to change you from human, to vampire. The burning you felt was my venom. Please understand I had no choice,” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, eyes scrutinising your face. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up and we can talk some more, yes?” The word vampire was ricocheting around your brain, your body moving whichever way he wanted to lead it. It was like you had blacked out again, suddenly standing in a much cleaner bathroom as the handsome stranger turned knobs to adjust water that came tumbling out of a luxurious looking waterfall spout above your head. You blinked, shocked to realise that despite not paying attention you could distinctly recall the way he had carefully moved you from room to room with the promise of a hot shower and fresh clothes.

For his part, Demetri was incredibly worried about you. At first he had simply feared his venom wouldn’t take, that he was too late when he found you that awful night, surrounded by your blood and struggling to use the last of the air in your lungs. He’d been attracted by the smell of your blood, not having smelt something quite that strong and alluring in a while. He thought it was his lucky day, a bloodsinger perhaps, but he found you instead, broken and abused, twitching in a pool of crimson – the scent was strong because so much of it had spilled onto the concrete.

Demetri had known from the moment he saw you that you were meant to be his, everything about you screaming to every instinct he had. Your scent teased his nose as one of the best he’d ever come across, your tenor irresistibly bright and warm, the curves of your broken body looking like they were physically molded for his hands to hold. He had never turned anyone before, but it was really the only option he had once he realised he couldn’t rouse you to so much as ask your name. His next worry had been trying to stop. Once his teeth had sunk into your flesh and the sublime taste of you hit his tongue it had been a race against time to hold his position long enough so enough venom could infiltrate your system, all while not draining anymore of the precious little blood you had left. He had almost lost it when he tried to seal your stab wound with his tongue.

You had taken four, agonisingly long days to open those vivid red eyes. He hadn’t been able to focus on anything else, so distracted that Aro had been forced to give him time off so he could sit by your side – and do a bit of hunting on your behalf. Now you were nearly comatose in Felix’s shower, his best friend busy cleaning up his bathroom as best he could so you wouldn’t return to that horror scene. Demetri had known you would be shocked, that it would be a lot to adjust to, you had been ripped from a safe world where monsters like him didn’t exist after all, forced to become one yourself without consent. How was he supposed to explain it all to you? How did he even begin to make you understand the bond that was set between you? You had calmed so quickly in his embrace, a sure sign you felt it to.

“Vampires aren’t real. I know they’re not, but the things I did…you can’t even tell I was stabbed. It shouldn’t be possible, none of it should be.” Your voice was as soft and melodic as windchimes, an addicting song he could listen to on repeat for hours. Demetri had sat as a silent sentry on Felix’s bed, listening for any sign you might be distressed again so he could swoop in and save you. Every little sob had torn at his heart, his arms aching to hold you until it all went away. He gave you a slow nod, patting the space beside him in a silent invitation, one he was glad you accepted. Your scent was unique, comforting, intoxicating. From the moment you sat beside him, it was all he could focus on.

“We are very real love. You are faster and stronger in this body, your senses keener. My venom has immortalised you as you are, unchanging from this day for the rest of eternity.” He informed you, his voice soft so as not to startle you. Newborns were unpredictable, driven by animalistic instinct. Vibrantly red eyes stared back at his for a brief moment before your gaze dipped to your hands. You were wearing one of his shirts, the premium cotton almost swamping you and landing at mid-thigh. The sleeves had covered your hands, and he moved to kneel in front of you to roll them up.

“Your venom?” you asked, eyes watching his every move. Demetri nodded.

“Yes, you have venom to. It coats our teeth to immobilise our prey, and our joints to allow us to move faster than anything else on earth.” He answered honestly. A slow exhale was the only response he got from you as he carefully brushed his fingertips against your arm, desperate for even the smallest amount of contact with you. Every time he touched you he felt his nerve-endings sing with relief, like he had been suffering for a thousand years without ever knowing he was till he had found you.

“So…vampires are fast…and strong.” You mumbled, pulling your hands back subconsciously. Demetri nodded, moving back to sit beside you.

“Some of us are gifted also. I, for example, can track anyone anywhere in the world. There is much to learn still, try not to overwhelm yourself learning it all in one go,” he advised, head tilting slightly, “Since I am answering so many of your questions perhaps you can answer one of mine?” You looked somewhat bewildered, as if you hadn’t actually considered he might have things he wanted to know to.

“Like what?” you sounded cautious and Demetri couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nothing too sinister I promise, but I was hoping I might learn your name.” he hinted. He was sure you would be blushing if you could, but you turned your body towards him and held out a hand anyway.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N.” your hand was small in his own, delicate, and yet when you gripped you gripped too tight. He winced slightly as the skin cracked and you withdrew immediately, looking horrified by what you’d done. Demetri cradled his broken hand to him with a light laugh.

“My apologies, I should have known better than to ask a newborn to shake my hand,” he dismissed it with ease even as the skin stung and knitted itself back together, “I am Demetri, Demetri Volturi. Welcome to our coven, tesoro.” You swallowed, looking nervous again.

“When can I go home? I…you’ve been really kind but I have to get back, my parents, they’re expecting me to come for Christmas.” Your teeth worried your lower lip and his heart ached a little, knowing you wouldn’t like the news he had to give you.

“Given the damage you have unwittingly caused today, would you think it wise of me to let you return home?” he asked gently. He watched your breathing pick up slightly, your expression twisting into disappointment and upset.

“But it’s Christmas, I have to get back, I always go home for Christmas.” You insisted, voice wavering. Christmas? Demetri couldn’t honestly comprehend what was so important about it that you had to go back for it every year. It was a time of year for human greed to rear its ugly head and nothing else, wasn’t it? He couldn’t very well say that to you, however.

“It will not be possible anymore Y/N. Please understand, to the rest of the world vampires do not exist for good reason, we remain hidden, from this moment forth, you no longer exist either, not as you used to.” He wished he’d never said anything when you began to cry once more, and even though he was sure part of you was angry at him for doing this to you, you still curled into his side to accept the comfort he offered. The days that followed were some of the strangest of his life, his mate so near and yet so far. He understood that everything was overwhelming, not at all what you were used to, but you were much shyer and more withdrawn than he had expected. There was little he could do to coax you out of your shell except give you time, though his saving grace was you seemed willing to be in his presence more so than anyone else’s.

It was a pattern he found he rather liked. You came to him when you had questions you wanted answers for, and curious little thing that you were you had lots of them to; only he was ever allowed to get close enough to touch you, and only he got to be near when you fed, you still needing the guidance and his grounding influence to move past the initial guilt till it was almost negligible. Once, when Felix had tried to hand you some spare clothes’ he had collected rather thoughtfully from town for you, he had accidentally brushed your hand with his own and you had flinched straight into Demetri, like you subconsciously were seeking his protection. Another time (he wasn’t quite sure you had known you were doing it) but one night, as he trawled the internet for more information on Christmas traditions in Britain on his tablet, you had simply been watching the flames dance in the hearth beside him when you scooted a little closer and rested your head on his shoulder. His hand had reached for your own and you hadn’t hesitated to slip your fingers between his own, squeezing lightly.

His favourite memory by far had to be the day you found out you glowed. At first you’d been utterly startled, flitting past his window so fast to show him something you hadn’t fully seen anything, but the glimpse of glitter was enough to slow you down, leaving you looking bewildered as you struggled to see exactly what had happened. With a chuckle, he’d pulled you back towards the window, keeping your hand in his and gently rolling up the sleeve of your jumper before slowly moving your arm into the light. The awe on your face was an expression he wouldn’t soon forget, wide red eyes looking between him and the diamonds encrusted in your skin before a laugh so sweet it could have been a baby’s coo rent the air.

“We sparkle?”

“We do. You are as precious as any rare gem love, the proof is in your skin.”

You had tilted your head just enough that he could have kissed you, if you’d both so desired it in that moment, but you’d barely known him a week and it didn’t seem appropriate. He’d let you pull away from him, averting your gaze in that shy way you had that he found so endearing. He wouldn’t let you pull away next time.

“Demetri? Where can I put this?” Felix brought him out of his reverie, and he turned his head from the fireplace to see what exactly he was holding. He had ordered a lot of things after all. His tree was currently a little lopsided, lacking ornaments on the right-hand side, so he hoped it was another box of baubles. You were currently in the training room with Alec and Jane, the twins agreeing to distract you while he set up his room with everything he had brought. He couldn’t do much about your general need to acclimate to the new life you had discovered, but he could soothe your grief by bringing Christmas to you, right?

It had taken him a few minutes to figure out how the stupid tree was supposed to go up and he was admittedly irritated with how many specks of glitter he could see in his carpet, but he figured it would all be worth it when everything was ready.

“Those are for the fireplace.” He informed the giant. Felix glanced about the place, much different to Demetri’s usual decoration. The Masters’ had been generous at first, giving you our own space to allow you to acclimate to your new senses in some peace and quiet, but since you were mated to him it was expected you would eventually share a room, and the Masters’ patience was running very thin. Demetri hoped you would accept the proposition soon given you spent most of your time in his room with him anyway. Felix knew better than to stick around, knowing he would get irritated by his friends fussing eventually. Demetri didn’t mind, he had a tree to trim after all, though it was quickly becoming more arduous by the minute as he tried to ensure a balance between tinsel and ornaments. With his speed, he had transformed his room in a little under two hours, and from the look on your face when you walked into the room it had well been worth it.

Your mouth parted, eyes alight with wonder and confusion, you took in an array of lights adorning the bookshelves, fireplace and tree. There was tinsel on almost every flat surface, and fake snowmen and santa’s sitting along a mantlepiece dripping with fake icicles.

“Metri…” you breathed. He hoped your lack of words was a good sign. Hesitant steps carried you about the room, your fingertips dancing over the ornaments scattered about.

“Are they to your liking?” he asked. His eyes dipped to the package in your grip but you seemingly had forgotten it. Your eyes were sparkling as you turned to face him.

“I – these are – we…their perfect.” You whispered, voice raw with unshed emotion. Demetri watched you come closer towards him, meeting you halfway to prevent you from going any further with a smile. His eyes flickered upward to the white berries of mistletoe he’d carefully hung from the chandelier – his plan was in motion. Your eyes followed his gaze, breath hitching slightly. Demetri had never wanted to kiss anyone more than he did in that moment, you and your wide-eyed stare was too tempting, the soft glow of multicoloured lights illuminating the planes of your face making you as picture perfect as any hallmark Christmas movie character he had forced himself to watch.

“I tried to read up on some Christmas traditions for you. Most seem to be very subjective but I chose a few I knew I could bring to Volterra,” He murmured, “I admit, this was one of my favourites…I was rather hoping you would indulge me, love.” He placed his hand on your waist as gently as possible, hoping not to scare you away. Timid thing that you were, he wasn’t sure you would agree, but he wanted to give you plenty of chance to choose for yourself. You didn’t need to know that your decision here could make or break him, that he wasn’t just asking you for permission to kiss you. What he really wanted to know was whether or not you accepted him as your mate. You bit your lip, eyes flickering away briefly.

“Only if you indulge me to,” you bargained, pulling your package up between you pair. Demetri raised his eyebrows slightly, curious to know what was in the squishy looking plastic envelope. “I…I didn’t know you were going to do all this for me but I was going to ask that…well, you see my family always get matching pyjamas to spend Christmas Day in and I just…since we both are free on Christmas day…you don’t have to but-“

“I would be honoured, love,” Demetri cut you off, “There is little I would not do for you.” Your grip on your pyjama package tightened, your breathing a little shaky now and eyes filled with trepidation. Demetri searched your expression, looking for anything that might warrant some hope, but your deer in the headlights expression remained and he was truly uncertain as to where you stood.

“I don’t understand,” You admitted quietly, “I’m nothing special. I don’t understand why you did all of this for me.” Demetri sighed, absent-mindedly brushing your hair back from your face. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so bloody frustrating. Why couldn’t you see how much you meant to him? He made himself readily available to your every whim and desire, never rejected you when you sought physical comfort from him despite quite obviously denying it to everyone else. Had you truly not noticed and understood you were everything to him? He quite literally couldn’t live without you.

“Truthfully? I care little for the tinsel and lights and all of the frivolity this holiday gives humans an excuse for, but I care for your enjoyment of it. This is important to you, and if I have not made it abundantly clear by now you are important to me.” Demetri said, moving the package from your grip so he could take your hands and squeeze them lightly.

“But-“

“But nothing, Y/N. I have known since the day I was forced to change you there was only one person meant for me. I would rather endure the change for the rest of eternity, drown over and over in the deepest and darkest parts of the ocean, have the devil himself rip whatever is left of my soul in two, than spend a day without my mate,” He swore, bringing your hands up to rest on his chest, “It may not beat, but if you will accept it, this heart is yours and yours only.” A small squeak of surprise escaped you and you almost seemed to flounder for a moment, clearly shocked by the bold declaration. He had said nothing he didn’t know deep in his heart to be true, and surrounded by the glow of Christmas lights, nestled in his arms beneath the mistletoe, you answered him the only way you knew how.

So long as you kept up a tradition of kissing him like this, Demetri could get used to celebrating Christmas.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #volturi #demetri volturi #demetri volturi x reader #felix volturi #you know he is helping his homeboy win you over #x reader #request #christmas

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gofancyninjaworld · 3 years

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OPM Mega review (chapters 131 - 148): Part 2 To the side, not the sidelines

A continuation of part 1 of the mega review. This isn’t a narrative account, but rather a look at all the other groups and happenings around where the main battle is raging.

Heroism in all sizes

It’s like the end of the world. City Z isn’t the first city to face near total devastation. But City A was at least gone in a flash. People had almost no time to consider their imminent demise. In City Z, the carnage has had time to build and to come from multiple directions. From vampiric monster roots enveloping and sucking the lives out of inhabitants by the block. From powerful earthquakes splitting and even twisting the ground. From aerial bombardments of gigantic rubble and from the sea itself as the coastline is threatened by a chain of tsunamis. Survivors aren’t bothering to try driving: it’s whatever you can carry as fast as you can.

Those who gave up their beds. The Hero Hospital in City S has come to serve as an impromptu staging post for nearby heroes. Like a middle finger stuck up at face of civilisation, the tower previously buried underground and its glowing red monster is just about visible from the hillsides of City S and draws heroes in like a beacon. First Metal Bat, then Mumen Rider, then the Tank Toppers, then the Blizzard Group, then all the other heroes hospitalised in the aftermath of either the Day of Chaos or Garou’s depredations discharge themselves against medical advice and run in to see who they can save.

just as well they all went -- the roads are so impassable and the situation so volatile that they’re literally the only rescue coming for hours if not days

Swept up in the mood, the martial artists were considering moving out too, only for Suiryu to pour cold water on the notion. It has done me a world of good to see that Suiryu has been inspired by Max and Snek and not Saitama. He finally gets it that a hero is someone who has the courage to step into the path of danger because someone needs help, and not because they’re strong and think they’ll win.

No space for playing hero. It’s very wise that Suiryu advised his fellow martial artists not to play hero. If many have complained about how heroes seem to be blessed with life, no such protections are afforded to non-heroes. The people who went in alongside heroes have suffered grievously, although those who have died did so bravely.

I have a one-person prayer circle going for Sekingar. I pray that ONE will choose to spare his fine non-hero one-eyed, single-handed ass. I have come to like the guy and I’ve been impressed at how he has stayed calm when trapped in City Z, succeeded in encouraging discouraged heroes and even asserting a genuine authority to guide Metal Bat and King. I don’t think there’s too many more like him in the executive of the Hero Association and think it’d be a shame if he didn’t bring his hard-won experiences back to guide them in what’s sure to be a crisis.

The king under the mountain

This arc has introduced us to a lot of concepts and players who are likely to have long-term effect on the world. In this series of chapters, some of these ideas are developed further.

Came for the pussy, stayed for the tentacles. I’m sorry, I’m allowed one double entendre a week and I decided to curse you with it. I wouldn’t have mentioned this but Drive Knight’s comings and goings are almost certainly going to be very plot-relevant later. He was supposed to be gone with his prize of one Nyan, but then he saw the tower emerge and Psykos-Orochi wave tentacles skyward and as much as a cyborg with no discernable facial features can be said to yearn, he yearned. For a sample that is.

He stuck around as long as it took him to get a sample of Orochi and then he was gone, without so much as a ‘thank you for your help’. At present, we’ll just have to see what this is all about later.

When the cat’s away the mice will play. The only way to foment a world ending crisis is to have the guy who can squash it all and wonder what the fuss was about occupied elsewhere. Through meeting Flashy Flash and getting a tour into the deepest reaches of the Monster Association thanks to Manako, and a couple of other things, Saitama is literally trapped in an alternative dimension. Although, being Saitama, if he felt a sense of urgency, he’d break back into the real world without a second thought. Right now he’s curious,worried for his house, but mostly hungry. Some curry would be nice.

The real question is how are the heroes going to hold out until Saitama arrives? I’ve been touched by how genre-savvy Genos and King are about this. It’d be amusing if it weren’t so brutally true.

The formal establishment of extra-spatial dimensions as a feature not restricted to a few unusual individuals. Phoenixman first got us learning about the idea of extra dimensions, in his case a private manifestation of his inner psyche. Neither he nor Child Emperor physically moved.

Ninchirin introduces us to the idea of an extra-spatial dimension that physical objects can be stowed in and taken from.

But nothing takes it as far as ‘God’ with the existence of a pocket dimension with its own timeline that takes people in wholesale. Whether a lot of time passes on the outside (as it does for Saitama and co) or no time passes (as it does for Psykos-Orochi) seems to depend on ‘His’ will.

The formal establishment of ‘God’ as a singular being with a distinct personality. Homeless Emperor first talked about ‘God’ as being a being who tasked him with eliminating humanity after he despaired of living as one. Pyskos expands on that concept. She saw ‘God’ very differently, as a quasi-planetary being rather than as a vaguely humanoid one, but her experience of ‘Him’ as a being who bestowed power and a mission on her bears striking similarity to that of Homeless Emperor.

How people get to talk to ‘God’ becomes clear when we see Flashy Flash and Saitama accidentally summoning ‘Him’ via handling a box. Which leads very naturally to elucidating some of the mystery of Blast.

Finding out why Blast is still the number 1 hero. If the likes of Tatsumaki leave us scratching our heads as to how any hero could outwork her in terms of facing monsters, Blast gives us an answer. He specialises in dealing with non-physical threats, which he does by having some sort of dimension-hopping gizmo. The black box he disposes of identical to that seen in Tatsumaki’s flashback, leading us naturally to think about what business the facility holding her was having with ‘Him.’ Webcomic readers see a gimme as well in the construction of the Ninja Village Flash hails from, along with Blast paying the ninjas a visit.

With Blast having taken Saitama and co out of reality, it’s going to be an unknown while before they pop back into it.

Sleeping is such a nice euphemism for dying

The principle of explosive growth through surviving situations that should have killed one is by this point a well-established mechanic within the story. After seeing Phoenixman come back from the dead, it should perhaps not be a surprise to us that Orochi does the same. In coming back, he’s evolved into a distributed form that can regrow after even extensive destruction and the consequences of his doing so are already covered in part 1 of this review.

Speaking of evolution, what about Garou? We left Garou buried under tons of rock in the wake of Tatsumaki lifting the base. Yet again, he does not die -- thank you Darkshine for your anti blunt trauma vaccination -- and little by little, we see him dig himself out, and transforming himself as he goes as he dreams of a world in which he enforces peace but very unconventional means.

In retrospect, the sequence of Garou’s eyes closing in response to his humanising memory of Tareo is the most ominous as the eyes that open again have not a shred of humanity in them.

It reminds me a lot of what we saw happen to Gouketsu when the latter accepted a monster cell, his human eyes closing as a new set of monster ones opened.

At long last, Garou makes it back to the surface. But what’s this? Where’s the wise-cracking, judgemental little shit we love? What is this near silent, befanged, clawed feral creature beating down on everything he sees? Oh dear. He is not sleeping sweetly, dreaming pleasant dreams of a world perfectly obedient while he waits for the fist of some self-righteous prince to awaken him to his destiny. Garou may perceive it as lapses in consciousness, but it’s the monster within eating him alive. He’s dying. He is under real existential threat of being completely lost to monsterfication and how it is that he can save his humanity is a big point of interest.

In his flawed way, Bang is trying to get through to Garou. I don’t hold out big prospects of him reaching him. And if he does, I hold out even smaller prospects of him actually beating Garou. Barring some interruption, we might be about to see the tragedy of a master beaten down by his student.

I’m going to leave this review here. What comes next is all too soon going to change the status quo of the story, if not for the better, then certainly for the more eventful.

#OPM #review #Snek #Saitama #Garou #Bang #Flashy Flash #Sekingar #a lot has happened #and the heroes working bravely in the background to save as many as they can is indeed heroism at its best #how the supernatural meddling fits in with everything that we see going on we don't yet know #Garou coming back onto the scene is a far more ominous re-emergence than it was in the webcomic #this could get really ugly

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backtobackbakubabe · 4 years

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Leaving My Love Behind (part1)

Bakugo X Reader

Words : 2199

Masterlist

Reader hasn’t seen Bakugo in almost ten years but when her boyfriend goes missing she all but begs him to help her find him and get him back from a notorious gang leader.

You had been waiting outside this building for almost six hours now. You had been waiting for a certain blonde-haired asshole. You had to admit you were shocked that he was still working. He had never seemed like the desk job type. But after his most recent rampage he was benched until further notice. It was all over the news, which made it that much easier to find him. You’d wait out here all night if you had to. You just needed to talk to him.

Rain started to come down hard and yet you remained. Your eyelids began to droop and still you waited. Your stubbornness knew no limit… unfortunately your exhaustion did. You leaned against the telephone pole behind you and you hugged your jacket closer around you to fight the chill. Shivers wracked your body, but nothing matched the chill that shot down your spine when you heard a familiar husky voice right behind your ear. “What the fuck do you want?”

You hadn’t even realized he had left the building, let alone crept up behind you. Your tired head turned to look at him. It had been years sense you had seen him in person, and you forgot how haunting those red eyes of his where. You refused to cower in his presence, you wouldn’t let him see how scared you were. “I need your help.”

“Wh-“

“And before you can tell me to fuck off… you owe me one, and we both know it.”

His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “I haven’t seen you in almost 10 years. You can’t just show up now and expect me to drop everything to help you! I don’t owe you shit.”

You almost expected him to storm off in a fit of rage, but he just crossed his arms and glared at you. Who was this new Bakugo? He still seemed permanently angry except now he seemed to be a little more… patient? No that couldn’t be right. He didn’t have a patient bone in his body. Yet here he stood, waiting to hear you out.

Your hands balled into fists, “Do I need to remind you of the sacrifices I made back in high school. Do you not remember what I did for you? Have you gotten so-“

His hand gripped your elbow tight enough to leave a bruise, “I fucking…. Remember everything. I’ll ask you one more time. What the fuck do you want?”

You pulled your arm away from him. “I need your help… My boyfriend… Kiyo… he’s gone missing.”

His palms popped, “And? Go to the police, file a report? What the hell do you want me to do about it?”

An angry tear ran down your cheek. “You think I haven’t already done that?! He’s been missing for over a month and it seems like nobody even cares!”

“Tch… how do you know he didn’t just run away? What if he was just bored or something?”

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and slapped him. “How dare you? You don’t know him. He would never! He was kidnapped by gang leader who goes by Big Shadow.”

Bakugo’s eyes bulged and you now had his attention. Big Shadow? That was the guy he was investigating before he was put on desk duty. “So that’s why you’re here? Look I can’t help you. That guy is almost impossible to find and even harder to get to. I spent the past year trying to lock that ass hat up and the only thing I have to show for it are several new scars and a temporary demotion.”

You slumped to the ground, “What do you expect me to do? I can’t just give up on him?”

To your surprise he crouched down next to you. “This sucks…. I’m not good with… you know…”

“Emotion?”

“Yeah…Want to go get a drink or something?”

Your watery eyes met his he held a hand out to you, “Look I don’t like asking twice. If you want to sit here in the cold rain and die of heart break… or pneumonia. Then whatever. But I need a drink and if you want to come… I wont stop you.”

You wiped the tears from your eyes and let him help you up. This really was a different man then the one you used to know.

You silently followed him to some small local bar down the street. You had never been here before, but then again you didn’t spend a lot of time on this side of town. The rent was too high and the people were too busy.

You took your seat across from him at a somewhat hidden booth in the back. Moments later a waitress came with three fireball shots and placed them in front of Bakugo. “Your usual. Do you want anything to eat this time?”

Bakugo looked at you briefly and then back to the waitress, “Yeah it’s probably going to be a long night. Bring out the appetizer platter and… I guess whatever she wants to drink. Let me guess? You still drinking vodka sprites?”

You almost laughed at the memory of the last time you drank with him as stupid high school punks. “Not for a while, but why not? For old times sake…”

So you drank, and drank some more, and ate all the weird bar food that the waitress continued to bring out. By now you were both on the brink of black out. Doing anything to not feel that empty pit in your stomach. “THAT WAS NOT ME! THAT WAS AAAAALL KIRI’S DOING!” You were going down memory lane from UA. You and Bakugo had been pretty close back then. Well that’s a lie. You hated each other at first. And you didn’t end on a good note either. But the middle… the middle had been nice.

“Oi… dumbass. Use your inside voice…”

“Ooooooh don’t tell me THE BAKUGO is telling ME to UsE mY iNsIdE vOiCe.”

Bakugo smirked, “You wanna know my secret?”

You giggled, “Oooooh secret! Yesssss!”

He moved over to your side of the booth and leaned close to you. Close enough for you to smell his cinnamon shampoo… or maybe it was just all the fireball shots. He turned his head to the side and pulled his hair back to show what looked like a hearing aid. “Tech development team made them for me when I signed with the agency. They’re mostly to protect my ears from more damage. You know because of all of the.” He motioned with his hands and made an explosion noise. “But they also help me hear a little better. Now I don’t have to yell all the time.”

You reached out to touch it, but his hand smacked it away, “Oi look but don’t touch!”

You blushed. “I guess that makes sense. I wonder why no one thought of that before. All this time.. you just couldn’t…. hear.” You started to tear up, your happy mood completely gone.

His eyes grew huge, “No, no, no, no, damnit we came here to avoid the tears. Please stop. Ugh shit!”

You leaned on him and continued to cry. “I’m so sorry Bakugo! For the way things ended between us. It’s all my fault. Just like Kiyo being kidnapped is all my fault. Everything is my fault! I’m the worst!”

He patted the top of your head awkwardly, “Uh… I don’t know what happened with yoyo or whatever but what happened with us wasn’t your fault.” His arm landed on your shoulder when you just kept crying, “And for what it’s worth I don’t think you’re the worst. I mean you’re not exactly on my list of favorite people. But there’s a lot of people worse than you. All for one, Overhaul, Dabi, Deku, murderers, rapists, did I mention Deku?”

You slapped his chest, “His name is Kiyo!”

“Noooo I’m pretty sure it’s Deku.”

You sighed, “No you idiot, my boyfriend. You called him yoyo… his name Kiyo… and he’s missing, and I’m just sitting on my ass getting drunk. I’m useless.” You slammed your fist on the table, “But you know what?! With or without your help I’m going after him!”

Bakugo’s hand mindlessly wandered to the scar hidden beneath his t-shirt, “You’re going to get yourself killed y/n. Please think about this. Have you even kept up with your training? I know you didn’t do the whole hero thing after UA… considering what happened. What are you going to do in a fight? Your quirks not really meant for combat.”

You shrugged, “I don’t care. I’m going to get him back. I’m still in shape. I still got the moves.”

Bakugo groaned, “Okay look. I’ll make you a deal. I will help you look for Keto for exactly two weeks. If we find him great, if we don’t you accept it and let the police handle it.”

You grabbed him by the shirt, “You mean it? You’ll help me?”

He winced at your sudden proximity, but you didn’t seem to notice. “Well yeah. If I don’t, I’ll probably end up seeing your picture on the news and honestly that just sounds like a fucking headache that I’m not prepared for. “

You lunged in for a hug, burying your face in his chest. He again just awkwardly patted your head. “For the love of god, please stop.”

Bakugo paid the bill and walked you out. He had planned on walking you home but when he learned how far it was he almost passed out. “Nope. Nuh uh. You can sleep on my couch. Too drunk for this. Let’s go.” When he realized you were walking too slowly for his liking he bent down and told you to hop on his back. “God you’re lighter than I remember.”

You poked his shoulder, “Well you’re nicer than I remember.”

He shrugged, “Time changes a lot of things y/n.”

You walked in comfortable silence for a while. Well he walked, your drunk ass was being carried. You were about to fall asleep when his stiffened, “Hey y/n can I ask you something?”

“Huh? Yeah whatsup?”

His grip around your legs started to tighten, “Why didn’t you use your quirk on me today? I mean you wanted me to do something I didn’t want to. What kept you from using your quirk to make me do it? All it would have taken was a flash of those eyes and a few words and I would have to do whatever you say.”

You let out a loud sigh, “Well for one. How do you know I didn’t? Maybe I’m just sneakier about it now.” He slapped your leg obviously not satisfied with that answer. “Okay chill. I didn’t! I don’t really use that park of my quirk much anymore. I save that for the bad guys. Which you might not be the nicest guy, but you’re definitely not a bad guy.”

He could tell you were fighting sleep as your breathing started to deepen. “What a pair we are. Not the worst, and not a bad guy.”

He managed to get you into his apartment and on to the couch. He got you a glass of water and a blanket. As he was leaving to head to his own room you grabbed his hand. “Hey. Why two weeks?”

If it wasn’t so dark you say he blushed, “That’s just how long my administrative leave is.” His hand ran through his hair, “Let’s just say I was not made for desk duty…” He gave you a smile which warmed your heart while somehow making you very uncomfortable. “Get some sleep y/n, we start operation get Kilo back bright and early.”

“His name is Kiyo!”

“Yeah whatever, stupid name.”

That night you dreamt of the last time you saw Bakugo. You saw your seventeen-year-old self, covered in blood. You saw a cracked reflection in a mirror with glowing purple eyes looking backing at you. You saw-

“Holy SHIT! What the hell is Y/n doing on our couch! BakuBRO! Did you know she was here?”

You groaned at the sudden yelling and bright light coming in through the window. “Kiri can you please shut the fuck up?”

“Oh yeah that’s y/n all right. Seriously Bakugo did you know she was here?”

Bakugo came over with coffee and eggs and placed them on the table in front of you. “Kiri. If we are the only two people who live here. And you didn’t know she was here, then who the fuck do you think let her in?”

Kirishima looked between the two of you, “Damn after all this time and you even made her breakfast?”

After Kiri left for work and you had finished your coffee you looked to the explosive man who was now looking very domestic in the kitchen doing dishes. “Hey, was I drunk, or did you promise to help me find Kiyo?”

Without stopping with his dishwashing, he shrugged, “Yes you were drunk… but yes I also did promise that. I gave you two weeks starting today. So, I suggest you get your ass in gear if you plan to get your money’s worth.”

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #Katsuki Bakugō #bhna bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x y/n #bakugo imagine #mha #mha imagines #mha bakugo katsuki #mha x reader #my hero academia

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klbwriting · 3 years

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Unexpected Allies - Chapter 18

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: Kaz puts his plan to work

Notes: still no interactions between the pair and I miss the cuteness together, but this is cute too, last few chapters after, sorry guys

Taglist: @mcntsee @amwitherspoon @cxlpxrnia @fcvcritecrime @aysegust @sagewrites111 @spawn0fsatan @itsemy01 @thedelusionreaderbitch

The Darkling was loving having Y/N on a leash. Whenever she was asleep she was chained to her bed, and whenever she was out of her room she was being led around by a Corporalki or the Darkling himself. He was enjoying her being prisoner, waiting until the Fabrikator who had made the dampener could make something for him to control her power completely. He had realized by now that she didn’t drink the parem, that she was just born different, and he relegated her to a weapon at his disposal. She was in constant pain and becoming sickly from not using her power, almost like it was draining from her completely.

By the time Jesper arrived about a week after she had been captured and she had never seen him look so angry. He was led into the Darkling’s office and was waiting when Aleksander pulled her in, hands cuffed to her sides as she had tried to claw his eyes out on her first day there. Jesper glared at her, his eyes appearing dead, and she felt her heart stop. What had happened to make him like this? Why was it like she was the center of his rage?

“I remember you, didn’t my dear puppy break you out of prison?” the Darkling asked, sitting in his chair while Y/N stood by him. Jesper threw her a disinterested glance and nodded. “So why come back? Are you turning yourself in?”

“I’m here to make a deal with you Darkling,” he said, voice dripping with malice. “You see, I went to help her meet you and then I came back without her. You know what they did to me? Sent me running with a couple of broken ribs. Told me I was useless, a Grisha who couldn’t protect his own.” Y/N gasped, she had no idea Jesper was a Grisha. He glared at her. “Ya, you came along and ruined everything. Well Darkling let me stay here, train up, I’ll tell you everything about the resistance.” The Darkling smirked, considering this offer.

“I need proof that you’re Grisha, show me what you can do,” he instructed. Jesper looked around before picking up and iron chess piece from the set nearby. He set it on the desk and held his hand over it, focusing and forming the metal until it was shaped like a pistol. The Darkling nodded, clapping once. “Impressive, yes with some training and you’d be very helpful to my Fabrikators.” He glanced at Y/N. “You didn’t tell me you had such talented friends. Perhaps Jesper here will be a little more helpful than you.” Jesper chuckled.

“Can’t imagine how helpful she is, she never leaves his tent, only goes to see Mal,” he grumbled. The caught the Darkling’s attention and he turned back to Jesper. “O ya, Mal, that guy I guess Alina was tumbling with, he’s leading the whole thing. They’re camped around 39 miles northwest of Sarkoff’s prison, hidden by a big forest with a river surrounding it.”

“Well, thank you,” Aleksander said. He motioned for one of his lackeys to go and use that information to find them. “So we have Mal, I know how to handle him, what about this tent she’s always in, who is so interesting in there?”

“Well he was my boss, sometimes my friend, changed whenever I let you get her though, he’s the one who kicked me out. His name is Kaz Brekker and he’s a piece of work,” Jesper started. The Darkling nodded for him to continue. “Ya, crippled kid who can’t walk right, smart though, ran our gang, was running the whole resistance, right under Mal’s nose. He didn’t like that, the place is in shambles, all infighting. Should be easy pickings. And if you want her to become a good little puppy again you should start by killing Kaz Brekker, she’ll be an empty shell then.”

“Jesper stop! What’s the matter with you! Why are you doing this?” Y/N said, begging for him to stop. Jesper just stood.

“May I?” Jesper asked, motioning to Y/N. The Darkling nodded. “You can shut up Y/N , Kaz is nothing now that you’re around. You made him soft, but you still can’t touch Brekker because he has his little Grisha girlfriend around to fuck up anyone who comes near him, but us, the rest of the Dregs, we don’t have you. Some of the Lions went and broke Wylan’s wrist, we said it was him falling from a carriage on a job but that was a lie Kaz made us tell so you wouldn’t be upset. You’ve made life hell for us and now I’m here to do the same to you.” Y/N’s lip trembled hearing her best friend say such things to her. She closed her eyes and looked away.

“This is amazing, thank you Jesper, Yuli will show you to a room, I really hope you do well here,” the Darkling said before Jesper was led out by another guard. Then he turned to look at Y/N. He was trying to see if Jesper was a plant, but she felt so broken between how things ended with Kaz and now Jesper’s words. He had to know all of this was real and he was delighted. “Looks like your friends are going to make it easy for me to destroy them. O Y/N, you never could choose a winner. I’ll give you one last chance, be mine, join me willingly and I will let you free, you just have to use your powers to serve me, and I’ll make your life better.”

“Will you spare Kaz?” she asked softly. The Darkling glared.

“No, he will die the moment I set eyes on him, but it is good to know you’re still so noble to sacrifice yourself for your friends,” he said, handing her chain to her guard. He yanked her back to her room, chaining her inside.

She hated this, she waited quietly for a new guard to come in and watched her sleep, which she rarely did, the guards either started at her or they openly tormented her. She heard the new guard knock and in walked Jesper, in a shiny new purple kefta, dismissing the other guard and making sure he was far away before closing the door and locking it. She sat a little further back on the bed, fully believing her best friend now hated her. But when he turned around and she saw his eyes were back to normal, she almost cried in relief.

“Jes?” she asked. He ran over and hugged her tight, jumping to sit next to her on her bed. She didn’t let him go, feeling closer to her home than she had in the time she’d been there. She relaxed for the first time at the Little Palace. Jesper sat up a little and let her go.

“I’m sorry about before, I had to say all that, they needed to believe I hated you and the resistance,” he said. She nodded, wiping the tears that were falling. She was so happy to see him.

“You’re a fantastic actor,” she said with a laugh. He chuckled himself. “How’s Kaz?”

“He’s a wreck, he feels so guilty for what happened between you guys and how he didn’t even get to make it right,” he said.

“He said all that?” she asked, looking a little shocked that Kaz would be so open with his feelings with someone else. Jesper laughed.

“Of course not, we can all just tell, plus when he found out about you he smashed up his entire tent again. Who do you think sent me here?” he asked. “O and he gave me something for you.” He held out a folded up parchment. Y/N took it gently in her hands. “He made me swear not to read it.”

“You read every word.”

“Twice.” She opened and started reading, her heart melting as she finally started fully crying.

“Jes…he wrote me a song…” she said, leaning back to his shoulder as she read the entire thing.

“You should sing it, you could make it better, but he did alright,” Jesper said. She smiled and held the paper to her chest, hugging it.

“He did perfect,” she said. “You really want to hear it?”

“I think it would make you feel better to sing it.” She nodded and wiped her eyes, clearing her throat.

I will fight

I will fight for you

I always do until my heart

Is black and blue

And I will stay

I will stay with you

We'll make it to the other side

Like lovers do

She stopped at that, letting out another cry as she leaned to Jesper again. What if she never saw Kaz again? Never told him how much she loved the song he gave her? She needed to see him again.

I'll reach my hands out in the dark

And wait for yours to interlock

I'll wait for you

“He had me make you something,” Jesper said quietly, reaching into his keft and holding up a red chain with a small medallion on it. She took it and looked at it. The medallion had a red crown on it. “Said something about needing it to be blood red, you two are strange. I just give Wylan explosive materials.” She laughed and put it over her head.

“How long is your shift?” she asked.

“Until 2am, then I have another job to do,” he said. She nodded. “Come here, I’ll hug you til you fall asleep.” She smiled softly and leaned to him, feeling safe for just a few minutes before drifting to sleep.

At 2am Jesper left his shift with Y/N and headed towards the Fabrikators area. He entered the workshop, knowing that asshole would be there. He slipped quietly behind him and hit him in the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him out cold, Inej would be proud of him.

“That was very well done,” Inej said, standing silently in the corner of the room. Jesper jumped and turned.

“Saints stop that,” he said, lifting the Fabrikator up. Inej opened the secret door that led to a lake near the new encampment. “Did Kaz say what he wanted this guy for yet?”

“No, he and Nina plan on doing some type of torture on him to get him to talk,” she said as she helped Jesper carry him out the tunnel. Once outside the rest of the Dregs were waiting. Kaz looked at Jesper.

“How is she?” he asked. Jesper smiled sadly.

“She misses you, feels bad about how you guys left things, likes what you sent her,” he said. “So what is the plan.” Kaz got a malicious smirk on his face, it was truly terrifying.

“I can’t tell you that but I can tell you that it will mean revenge,” he said. “Get back inside, they can’t know about this, make sure she stays safe.” Jesper nodded and headed back down the tunnel. Kaz and Nina took the Fabrikator to a private tent, closing it up tight before tying the man to a chair.

“I’m doing this only because I want Y/N back just as much as you do,” she said. Kaz nodded.

“I understand and thank you for this, I know its not going to be easy,” he said. She looked at her hand and nodded slowly before getting to work.

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kazbrekker #kaz brekker #kaz #unexpected allies series

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5

- Chapter 6 -

When Nie Huaisang was five, almost six, his mother suddenly started to show an interest in him again.

It was all that awful Madame Yu’s fault, Meng Yao thought. It’d started right after the Jiang sect had come to visit, a nice official visit purportedly meant to introduce the two young sons that were about the same age – Madame Yu was Madame Jin’s friend, and therefore hated Meng Shi on her friend’s behalf, but she was so much smarter about it. She was as vicious and poisonous as the spider mentioned in her title, and Meng Yao’s mother was good and talented and sneaky but she was as susceptible to flattery and wiles as anyone else, especially since she’d never been the target of such poisonous words poured into her ear before, all designed to incite her into doing something she’d regret.

Meng Yao figured out what was going on pretty quickly, and even Nie Mingjue was wary of her belated interest in Nie Huaisang, although in Meng Yao’s opinion he focused a bit too much on the possibility of harm to Nie Huaisang’s feelings and not quite enough on the fact that the only thing standing between Meng Shi and the significantly more secure position of first wife was him.

Meng Yao had his first real out-loud argument with his mother over it.

Nie Huaisang didn’t care at all, indifferent as he was to Meng Shi after all this time, except of course in the sense that he was upset that Meng Yao was upset. Nie Mingjue was charmingly worried sick about their reignited and intensified cold war – so much so, even, that he went behind everyone’s backs and arranged for Meng Yao’s first mission with Chiwen to be a bodyguarding escort mission to take Qinghe’s current mistress on a shopping trip.

Sometimes Meng Yao wanted to strange him.

Irritatingly enough, it worked out just as Nie Mingjue must have planned. There was a limit to how much teenage sulking Meng Yao could get up to on an extended road trip that required a month’s travel in each direction, and his mother wasn’t so stubborn that she couldn’t be convinced regarding to exactly how underhanded Madame Yu’s instigation had been. Anyway, in the end, she did love him more than anything, and that made forgiveness easy.

Soon enough they were back to their old ways, living in each other’s pockets as they always had, only this time they had money in their pockets and the arrogance of having a Great Sect backing them up. They made a point to stop by Yunping again to rub their good fortune into the faces of the brothel owners and other prostitutes that had once so tormented them, and even ended up buying his mother’s old friend Sisi’s freedom at a much-discounted price, given what had happened to her face.

“No one will notice in Qinghe,” Meng Shi assured her old friend, clutching at her hands with a smile brighter than anything Meng Yao had ever seen on her; it made her look ten years younger. “Half the women there have scars – scars, and sabers, too, if you look inside the main house. We’ll say you’re my maid so that you can stay with me all the time, but I won’t make you lift a finger – I promise!”

Meng Yao thought it was a good thing. His mother would have company which she’d lacked, especially since Lao Nie had stopped visiting her courtyard, and even better it was company she already knew she liked. They could sit together and play games, or music, do their hair and make-up and clothes, and never have to think even once about what a man would think of them.

Meng Yao was in a very good mood.

He probably should have realized that something terrible was going to happen.

He should have, but he didn’t, not until they rode straight back in through the gates of the Unclean Realm and Nie Mingjue rushed out in a panic to meet them. He had a black eye and bruises on his neck that Meng Yao identified at once as being caused by a man’s hand – he’d seen it before in the brothel, though not since – and although Nie Mingjue was ignoring it he favored one leg over the other in a way that suggested that his ankle was swollen and maybe even fractured under his robes.

“Da-ge!” Meng Yao cried out in pure shock at how wrong it was. Although there were spars every day in the Unclean Realm, even vicious ones that were only a shade away from true fights, no one should be able to lay a hand on the eldest young master of Qinghe like that without getting their head chopped off for it, and even a night-hunt surely couldn’t have gone that badly. “What happened –”

“I’ll tell you later,” Nie Mingjue said, and his voice was harsh, but with terror, not anger. “Come with me right now. He can’t be allowed to see you. Either of you.”

Meng Yao had many questions, but Nie Mingjue permitted none of them; he ushered them up to the guest quarters, the mediocre ones where neither honored guests nor hated enemies were housed, and hidden inside, wrapped in blankets and yet shivering, pale-faced with fright, was Nie Huaisang.

Meng Yao rushed to him at once, of course, and Nie Huaisang burst into relieved tears at the sight of him – silent tears, which was unusual for him; Nie Huaisang had always been prone to wailing.

“Don’t let him make noise,” Nie Mingjue instructed, and it was at once apparent why Nie Huaisang was doing his level five-year-old best to turn sobs into whimpers and heaving breaths into quiet pants. Meng Yao turned to look at Nie Mingjue – Meng Shi and Sisi turned, too, expressions of shock and confusion painted onto their features. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and they’d been here for years; there had to be a reason for all this panic.

“What happened?” Meng Yao asked, and “You need to see a doctor,” but Nie Mingjue shook his head, promised Later, and left, locking the door behind them – locking them in.

Nie Huaisang tugged on Meng Yao’s arm. “We have to move the table,” he said. “Da-ge said, as soon as you were here, we need to move the table.”

“Move the table…? Where?”

The answer, it turned out, was in front of the door. The table, and a bookcase, as if they were planning on resisting a siege.

“Are we hiding from a monster?” Sisi asked Nie Huaisang, trying to make light of a situation she clearly didn’t understand – that none of them understood, because Nie Mingjue hadn’t explained anything.

She was trying to make light, but Nie Huaisang nodded solemnly as if she’d only said the truth. “It’s not his fault, though,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “It’s not A-die’s fault that he’s a monster now.”

Meng Yao was so steeped in cultivation lore that he forgot himself for a moment, thought immediately of possession or demonifiation or a curse or something, and then his mother said, “When did he start hitting your brother?” and Meng Yao remembered that powerful men didn’t need an excuse to be monsters.

But no, that didn’t make sense either – perhaps it would have, if he hadn’t lived here for years, if he hadn’t known Lao Nie, but he had. Lao Nie had a fierce temper and a tendency to hold grudges, a heavy hand and a cold rationality in his heart that Meng Yao understood at first glance and that Nie Mingjue hadn’t quite figured out for all that he tried to parrot his father’s teachings, but he was generally speaking not a bad man. If he sometimes raised his hand to his sons, it was meant to teach them something – he wasn’t some customer at the brothel whose always-bruised children stayed home with shadows in their eyes.

Or at least, he hadn’t been.

Meng Yao got some broken parts of the story out of Nie Huaisang with some difficulty, being as Nie Huaisang was five and self-centered and had no tendency, as Meng Yao had at his age, to listen at doorways. There was a night-hunt, apparently, and it had ended badly – Lao Nie’s saber, Jiwei, had shattered, entirely unexpectedly, and the creature had taken advantage of the moment to gore him, with only Nie Mingjue’s quick reactions saving his life. He’d been in a coma for three days.

Three days, and then he’d woken up, his eyes bloodshot with ceaseless rage, and he’d called for Nie Mingjue to bring him his saber.

“Qi deviation,” Nie Mingjue told him later that night, climbing in through the window with a few more bruises and a cut high on his forehead so new that it was still scabbing over. His eyes were dull with exhaustion. “He doesn’t understand that she’s gone, no matter how I try to explain it.”

It wasn’t that Meng Yao hadn’t heard all the stories about the Nie clan’s tendency towards explosive and early deaths, but this was too early – Lao Nie hadn’t actually been all that old, for all that he’d waited longer than most of his ancestors to have children, and weren’t there supposed to be warning signs about this sort of thing? And the saber breaking, a Nie saber breaking –

“It was Wen Ruohan,” Nie Mingjue said. “At the dinner party, some months back. You remember. They had that back-and-forth about that fancy new saber he got as a present.” He shut his eyes. “I was standing next to him when it happened. I felt the echo of Wen Ruohan’s cultivation right before it happened – he did something, weakened it somehow, unbalanced her. Shattered her.”

His hand had found Baxia’s hilt as he spoke, his fingers white with pressure of holding her; Meng Yao couldn’t say anything, his own fingers tight around Chiwen – Nie sabers were spiritual weapons, so tailored to their makers that one might almost think they were conscious, and there were whispers that if you cultivated enough they would really become so, rising to semi-sentience and maybe even full thought one day. A Nie disciple cultivated their saber using their own soul and spirit, making it part of themselves…even imagining such a thing was like a nightmare come to life.

Meng Yao took a deep breath and held it for several seconds before exhaling. “Okay,” he said, even though it wasn’t okay, not at all. “What happens next?”

“You stay here with Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said at once. “I’ll bring you food, water, everything you need – there are servant’s passages in the walls, or I can fly Baxia to your window –”

Meng Yao reached out and caught his waving hand. “No, not – what happens next? We can’t cower here like trapped rats forever.”

But Nie Mingjue only looked tired, tired and afraid. “Meng Yao…”

“We can’t,” Meng Yao insisted. “And you – look at you, look what he did to you –”

“He’s still sect leader,” Nie Mingjue said. “And my father. He’s entitled to do as he likes.”

“There has got to be some sect law permitting the removal of a sect leader for madness!” Meng Yao exclaimed. “This isn’t a surprise; it’s hereditary – someone must have put in place measures –”

“Measures that require three-fourths of Nie sect elders to participate, enough to fill a quota, and an heir old enough to make a reasonable argument for inheritance,” Nie Mingjue said, and they both knew that he wasn’t. He was only fifteen; who would respect him? “There was some underhandedness a few generations back, someone trying to frame someone else for it in order to steal their position, so madness is a high bar to reach. I’ve sent letters to summon back everyone above the right age, as many as people as I can spare, but until they all come – we can’t let anyone know.”

Meng Yao hunted for words, but his silver tongue could not do what his mind knew was impossible; there really was nothing for it. Tensions with the other sects were too high. Even putting Wen Ruohan aside, there was Jin Guangshan in Lanling, always avaricious, and dozens of small sects dreaming of becoming bigger at the Nie sect’s expense. It was one thing to say that Lao Nie was injured and healing; yet another entirely to reveal that the Nie sect’s leader had gone mad, mad with anger, and that they were as rudderless as a raft on the open ocean.

They couldn’t openly demand that their traveling sect elders all come rushing back at once without alerting everyone to the problem – they couldn’t even ask the other sects to help find them.

No one could know.

“So, what are you suggesting,” Meng Yao said, his smile even gentler than usual in his rage. He might not show his fierce anger the way the Nie clan did, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. “That we just put up with it until we gather enough people to do it right, or else until he dies? How long will that take?”

Nie Mingjue rubbed his face. “I’m not sure. A year, maybe?”

A year.

“That’s implausible,” Meng Yao pointed out. “Sect business still needs to get done.”

“I’ve been doing what I can,” Nie Mingjue said, because of course he was. He was the heir – he was the rightful sect leader, even though he was far too young for it. “Great-uncle says he thinks I can pull off being eighteen, so that my signature will be sufficient for most documents…”

“I’m going to help,” Meng Yao said, and held up his hand when Nie Mingjue tried to protest. “You know I’m ten times as good at household accounts and logistics as you, and it can be mostly done on paper, so there’ll be no need for me to go out of here to do the vast majority of it. You’re not stopping me. You need me.”

“Fine,” Nie Mingjue said, because he did and he knew it. “Fine. But for the few things you do have to come out for…listen, I tell you to run, you don’t argue, okay? I don’t know if he’s still angry at you about what happened at the Discussion Conference a few years back, but I’m not planning on finding out.”

Meng Yao shuddered. “He still – remembers?” he asked, because that was worse, somehow. So much worse to know that the monster that beat Nie Mingjue to limping, that wrapped his hand around his neck and tried to squeeze the life out of him, still had the same memories as Lao Nie, who used to look at his son like he’d been a star in the night sky that he’d placed there himself. Who’d never let his disagreements with Meng Shi affect the fairness with which he treated Meng Yao, who had once put his hand on his shoulder and told him he was doing well, that he was promising, that he was glad to have someone like him in his sect…

“It’s not so bad all the time,” Nie Mingjue told him. “Sometimes he forgets, for a little while, before it starts up again.”

That just made Lao Nie unpredictable, Meng Yao found, and he hated it – he hated the way Nie Huaisang cringed at doors, the way he’d started to wet the bed again, the way they’d had to let all his pet birds loose after Lao Nie destroyed one of their cages in a fit of unexpected fury. He hated the way his mother and Sisi both donned veils to hide their faces, lest they draw attention, and took to sneaking through the servants’ quarters; he hated the way Nie Mingjue stopped fighting about going to see the sect doctor the way he always had and started making a visit there every week like clockwork and sometimes in between, and didn’t even seem to realize anymore how bad it had gotten; he hated the way it almost seemed sometimes like Lao Nie was still in there, somewhere, confused about what was happening like a man lost in a fog that he thought might be on the verge of thinning and asking for someone to fetch his saber as if it were a lantern that could help guide him out of the dark.

But his saber was gone.

“I’m going to kill Wen Ruohan for this,” Nie Mingjue said one night, lying with the side of his head pressed against the cool stone wall to help reduce the swelling – Lao Nie had thrown something at his head again, trying to get at Baxia; he’d mistaken her for Jiwei again.

Meng Yao was sitting next to him, trying to compose a response to Lan Xichen’s latest letter – it was cheerful, talking about plum blossom tea and lessons in etiquette and a new guqin for Lan Wangji, the only sour note a reference to his mother’s illness not having yet resolved, though he hoped it would by the next visit they had scheduled. Meng Yao was having to wrack his brain to come up with some sort of fiction about what they were supposedly up to in Qinghe that would not bleed resentment through the lines.

Maybe he could say they got a dog? An especially rabid one, vicious and cruel, with a tendency to turn against everyone with teeth bared and no care for how they bled even though they loved him –

Maybe not a dog.

“You can add it to all the other crimes he’s committed,” he said absently, and he knew that Nie Mingjue would take it as referring to the man’s overall maliciousness – Wen Ruohan was an iron-fisted tyrant, vicious and mean, and he wasn’t quiet about his enjoyment of ‘punishments’ that were more torture than anything else; Lao Nie had vocally criticized him over it, and with him no longer there to rally disdain against it, Wen Ruohan would undoubtedly only get worse – but actually Meng Yao had meant the crimes Wen Ruohan had committed against them. Against the Nie sect, against the Nie clan.

Against Nie Mingjue.

Death was too good for the bastard, but for once Meng Yao would be fine settling for less so long as it happened.

Nie Mingjue huffed in agreement, as Meng Yao had expected, and finally closed his eyes to sleep the way Meng Yao had been on his case about doing for the last half-shichen. When he was deeply asleep at last, breath regular and easy for all that his brow was still furrowed in fear and worry that no longer went away, Meng Yao, who had been staring at the hypnotically beautiful sight of Nie Mingjue’s chest steadily moving up and down, alive and not too hurt, saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye.

“Huaisang,” he said, not even bothering to sound stern. “You should be asleep already.”

Nie Huaisang came up to him and put his head on his shoulder. “I want to help,” he said softly.

Meng Yao blinked. “With what?”

“Whatever we have to do,” Nie Huaisang said. He was watching Nie Mingjue breathe, too. “Whatever we have to do to make it right.”

Meng Yao wasn’t sure what to say. “Huaisang –”

“I want to help, er-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and there wasn’t any doubt in his voice, any uncertainty. “Da-ge may be stronger, but you’re meaner. If anyone’s going to kill the one who did this, it’ll be you, and I want to help.”

Nie Huaisang ended his pronouncement with a huff, a familiar sound, and for all that it was a sound more characteristic of the Nie than his mother, Meng Yao couldn’t help but smile because he knew what that sound really meant: it meant I hate him, it meant he hurt da-ge, it meant I don’t know how to care about the world, I only know how to care about the ones I love, and for them I will burn it all down.

Meng Yao knew exactly how that felt.

It seemed that Nie Huaisang was vicious thing after Meng Yao’s own heart, underneath it all, and Meng Yao marveled all over again at his luck at having a living brother of his own blood – not any of those hypothetical bastard half-brothers and sisters Jin Guangshan sowed like he was trying to grow grain for the harvest, but his mother’s child.

A monster, just like him.

“All right,” he said. “If I can, I’ll let you help.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #meng shi #lao nie #my fic #my fics #three gates #some of those content warnings now in effect

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pleaseleavemetowrite · 4 years

Text

All my troubles on the burning pile | Tomas Shelby

warning! I don’t know all that much about the show, I’ve seen a total of 1 season so if anything is wrong please just ignore it for the sake of the fic

this also takes place before the events of the show, like significantly before. Also Tommy is probably ooc but idk i like it

Also if (Y/n) is annoying at some points just please keep in mind that during some parts she’s literally a six year old

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Small Heath remembered the day the men got sent away for war vividly. Boys were swept away from their families arms far too young, Fathers were dragged away from their children, and lovers were ripped away from each other some old and some young. It's hard to forget a day like that. But that is only increased when a roaring fire illuminated for what seemed to be miles from the old field where it originated. Some would tell you it seemed like hellfire, nothing but retaliation from a stupid teenager who felt too much and didn't have enough discipline. Others would tell you it was a heartbreaking scene, a pitiful display of how everyone felt to some capacity. But only (Y/n) would be able to tell you how it really was, an explosion of too much yet not enough. Like being in a limbo where nothing feels real but the consequences do.

She remembered her friends telling her to go as it looked dreadful but she told them to simply get lost if they didn't like it, then telling her youngest brother to just go home and tell mum that she'll be back soon. Then as pitch black settled in the sky, she remembers Ada Shelby approaching her, the fire building in intensity and height, and simply pulling her close. Hugging her. And (Y/n) broke. All the rage bubbling up became still and transformed to immense despair, tying her insides into knots and clouding everything. She felt cold despite the building heat of the flames that danced in the air.

Ada rubbed circles in the older girls skin, soothing her slightly. Ada already missed her brothers dearly and couldn't imagine how (Y/n) was feeling. With the idea of marriage going from a realistic event to something that couldn't even be guaranteed, (Y/n) was going to have a few rough years ahead of her if she carried on the way she was.

"Always the firebug, eh?" The nickname easily slipped out the younger girl's mouth. (Y/n)'s mouth slightly uplifted at the familiar nickname. (Y/n) had known the Shelby family ever since she was young with her being the same age as Tommy and seemingly clinging to the boy like glue it was inevitable she would grow attached to the rest of the family like they did to her in return. However, that doesn't mean that they were exempt from the surprise that was her impromptu fire starting but after knowing (Y/n) for a while to became easy for them to guess when a fire was upon them. And because of this, the nickname of firebug seemed to be obvious.

The Shelby family remembers the day that (Y/n) started her first fire in the abandoned field. She was no older 6. Having grabbed a hold of a lighter from god knows where and gathering as many sticks as she could and setting them aflame. However, it also turns out that children don't know a lot about how lighters or how fast a fire can spread. So, (Y/n) accidently sprung the lighter to life again and burned her hand, dropping the lighter and setting the dead grass alight a long with it. And while (Y/n) couldn't stop the screams that escaped her she also couldn't stop the excitement she felt from seeing the flames lick at the ground. And coincidently, Tommy had gone looking for the girl as she had been gone for around an hour which wouldn't have been strange for other people their age, but (Y/n) wasn't normal. She practically wouldn't leave him be until the sunset and they were called to their respective houses, so her sudden absence was a little worrying for the young boy. And he ran as fast he could once he heard the familiar shriek he had grown to know in the short time he had known her.

There she was, the lighter on the burning floor as she backed away from the flames that seemed to follow her until she bumped into someone. She was startled and feared being in trouble so she quickly turned around and seemed relived to find Tommy, her new best friend. She quickly hugged the shorter boy, "My hero! It's too bad I'm taller then you." Tommy rolled his eyes, "What is that!?" He nodded at the fire.

Despite her previous comment, (Y/n) suddenly felt quite small. The fear of losing her new friend gripped at her, making her small limbs lock up. "It doesn't matter ok! It's alwayyys rainy so it will be gone soon anyway, so stop being stupid." (Y/n) suddenly became defensive, gripping her burned hand but stopping once she remembered how much it hurt. And suddenly, (Y/n) began to cry as she realized it may not rain and she will in fact get in trouble and damn did her hand hurt. Tommy became alarmed at her sudden tears, and noticed her hand. "You don't need to cry! Can't your mum just help your hand." "But Tommy! What if it doesn't rain." Tommy was now confused he didn't see what the rain had to do with the burn on her hand.

But that didn't matter either, as with seeming perfect timing, it began to rain. Heavily. This relieved the girl, seeming to not care about her injury anymore. Tommy however, did still care and insisted on walking her to her house despite his house being on the other end of the street. This then lead to (Y/n) having a bandage on her hand and Tommy having a cold for a week. It was then that the Shelby's and (L/n)'s knew it wouldn't be the last time something like that happened.

One incident that not everyone knew about was yet another fire that was caused by (Y/n) at around 15. She had once again decided she wanted fire but this time Tommy was by her side, holding a box of broken items. Some of them belonging to the pair some it being something neither of them seemed to fully recognize. "You can't keep at this you know, someone will catch you one day and doubt they will forgive you so easily." Tommy said, his voice even, he wasn't mad at her. He just knew of what may happen if she is caught by someone other then him or his brothers. (Y/n) nodded as the fire sprung to life, and gestured for Tommy to throw the box in. Wordlessly, Tommy threw it in.

However, due to the density of some of the times, not everything in the box was catching fire. So carefully, Tommy began to kick the box trying to make it catch. But he didn't seem to see that it worked and that the flames were growing. (Y/n) panicking, pulled Tommy back and watched as the fire grew right where he was previously. Tommy looked down at her in gratitude as she looked away, as although she would never say it aloud she had been harboring feelings for Tommy for some time now. And before she could say anything, Tommy said, "My hero! too bad I'm taller then you." A grin tugging at his lips as he saw (Y/n) begin to laugh in disbelief at the vaguely familiar statement. "Thomas Shelby! you tosser." She gently pushed him, laughing lightly.

"Well there goes all my troubles on the burning pile." (Y/n) said smiling, as Tommy wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her body towards his. "And if you catch fire?" Tommy asked, despite the statement being extremely hypocritical from him because of what had just had happened. "Then I'll change my aim and throw my woes at the world instead." (Y/n) said gazing into the flames in front of her. "I wouldn't expect anything less." Silence followed Tommy's statement. It was comforting, as the cool summers evening began to start its slow conclusion, the warmth of the fire fought any possible cold breeze and the two teenagers stayed close and unaware the other was trying to ignore their feelings.

However, it seems that their feelings were too much to simply move aside as that very night the pair confessed, much to their friends and families' relief.

(Y/n) was pulled out of her reminiscent daze when Ada asked, "What are you burning?" "My troubles." Ada seemed to understand the vague statement. "I assume soon you'll be burning letters that "aren't quite right" soon?" Ada asked a light teasing tone in her voice in a hope to lighten the mood. It seemed to work as (Y/n) replied, "And you expected anything less?" Ada lightly shook her head as she smiled at the woman she'd grown to see as a sister. "He'll be back one day (Y/n)" "Well I sure hope so the tosser still has to make me his wife."

The two young women laughed, still worried for the future but feeling better then they did before.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader

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