#and maybe they get heavily scarred by something later on that

[loremastering]

i was not magnificent 

[clockwayswrites]

Birds and wings and hope Part 13

Masterpost

Danny had thought hat if he finished with Frostbite early that he would spend a few days in the zone to catch up with some of the other ghosts. He hadn’t wanted to with the wings. It wasn’t that Danny was ashamed of the wings, not from the fact of having different features, but Frostbite had seemed certain that Danny was in a heavily mutable state right then. The more people that knew Phantom with wings, the more likely they were to stick as they cemented in consciousness and identity.

Or something like that.

Danny had a whole stack of reading tucked away in his chest to go through later.

Just wanting time alone, Danny had given himself somewhere between an hour and a day (time was hard to tell in the zone) to sulk among the sparks and dust that were long dead stars before forced himself to get a grip and go home. He was an adult for, well, him sake he guessed. He could deal with this.

The reading set on the left side of the coffee table with a fresh notebook next to it. It wouldn’t do to mix up this work with his actual work, so Danny was sure to pick out one with a green cover from the stash that he kept on hand of his favorite dot patterned paper notebooks. He’d draw a blob ghost or something on it later. A few color pens and a highlighter joined the little pile, set in a battered and chipped Amity Park tourist trap mug.

Sam had gotten it for Danny as a present due to the so hideous it was funny caricature of Phantom on it.

On the right side of the coffee table went a box of protein bars, electrolyte drinks, suck’em candies, and Danny’s well stocked pill container. He moved the coffee table a little closer to the couch, turned the TV on to a playlist of Mythbuster episodes, and made sure he had his favorite blanket in hand before he transformed back.

And fuck that hurt. Pain shot up Danny’s back, radiating up through his shoulders, and shooting along his Lichtenberg scars so intensely that they burned. Danny collapsed inelegantly onto the couch with a defeated whimper.

Maybe it was the wings? Did having a different set of limbs as a ghost cause transfered muscle aches to his human form? He didn’t even have muscles as a ghost, not really, but the mind was a very powerful thing and not even Frostbite was entirely sure of how exactly the two parts of a halfa effected each other.

After the worst of the pain had dulled slightly, Danny managed to toss back his medication (missing doses while Phantom never did him any good) and pulled the candies close enough that he could use them as a distraction for his senses. Slowly the muscle relaxant worked its magic and Danny became a boneless lump. The episodes of Mythbusters idly distracted him as he just let his thoughts drift over what Frostbite had said.

Frostbite was sure that there had to be a reason— or several— that Danny’s form had shifted into a bird and after retained the wings still. Frostbite felt the first step to this all, if Danny was determined to either control or to get an understanding of where this all was going, was to understand the subconscious or symbolic particulars of the change.

The why Frostbite felt was clear: Danny had been without a haunt for too long now. Yes, he accepted, the pollen may have certain accelerated matters (hence the full bird then and only the wings now), but Frostbite was admit that the change wouldn’t have been occurring at this stage if Phantom had still been the protector of Amity Park.

Phantom had a purpose in Amity Park. Phantom was a protector and guardian. That guardianship extended to a very limited range. Now that Amity Park was many, many years behind him and Danny was living in a place already full of its own protectors, the Phantom part of Danny was left adrift which allowed for this new stage of ghosthood.

Why couldn’t his ghost half just be happy with a nice long nap?

“Fuck you, Phantom,” Danny grumbled as he watched a car be vaporized upon impact on the screen. Idly Danny wondered if he could get an object up to that speed if he flew fast enough.

Several hours and several protein bars later, Danny was managing to sit up enough to start going through some of the reading Frostbite had sent and make notes. Two more episodes and delivered Indian food later, Danny scrawled on the top of a fresh page ‘The Subconscious & Symbolic Particulars of Wings’.

Why on earth and beyond did he have wings?

‘Flying’, Danny wrote first and then as many reasons he could think of why he loved flying from the freedom of it to space to the way that it felt to move through a cloud. ‘Freedom’ branched off into movement and escape and getting to become his own person without the weight of Amity. ‘Gravity’ and ‘Identity’ sprawled into transformation and his death and the million of ways that it had changed everything about his life.

It was hard to think about.

Danny turned the page.

‘Wings’. Wings and feathers. Birds. Pigeons and crows and ducks and robins. And Robins. Biblically accurate angels who created the cosmos. Hope. And always hope.

“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers — ”

Hope and Robins and Bats.

And always hope.

Was Gotham his haunt?

Was he the thing with feathers?

---

AN: shhhhh I've been writing as my wind down before sleep. Also special prize for @stoiczee. I promise we'll see more batfam next part. Danny just needed some time to react!

[steddiealltheway]

It had started out as a joke.

Okay, well Steve is pretty sure it started out as a joke to alleviate some of the anxiety before facing Vecna.

It was an innocent joke, too. Or somewhat innocent considering it was made right before they were just going to kill Vecna and maybe die in the process.

Eddie had said, "Hey, Steve?" And when he turned around, Eddie asked with a teasing smile, "A kiss for good luck?"

And Steve, in front of Robin, Nancy, and Dustin with an axe on his back, had just shrugged and walked up to him, planting a kiss right on his lips and lingering for a few seconds before pulling away. He whispered, "Good luck." Ignoring Dustin's whispered what the fuck.

"Make him pay," Eddie had kind of mumbled out in shock, and Steve just nodded, turning back to find Robin's jaw dropped. He just gave her a look that said What? It could be the end of the world. Sue me.

She had just raised her hands in defense while Nancy tried to hide a wide smile.

Later when Steve found Eddie's lifeless body in Dustin's arms, he didn't hesitate to press his lips against his again, trying to breathe life into him. When Dustin shouted something about feeling a pulse, Steve lifted Eddie up like he weighed nothing, and marched him to the gate, determined to save him.

After he was placed in a hospital bed next to Eddie, he was chastised a bit for working through the adrenaline and straining his own wounds while carrying Eddie. But Steve didn't care that it meant it would take a few more weeks for him to completely recover because Eddie was alive. And that's all that really mattered.

The first time Eddie went to physical therapy, Steve smiled at him and asked, "A kiss for good luck?"

Eddie laughed but reached out for Steve who bent over and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. It felt different this time. Less like the world was ending and more like a promise that everything would be okay.

Even after Steve was discharged from the hospital, he would come back for Eddie's physical therapy, offering a kiss for good luck before waiting for him to come back and tell him about the progress he was making.

But as his physical therapy sessions decrease as he gets used to his scars and new limitations, Steve finds himself still lingering around him.

He thinks Eddie notices. With the way he lingers around Steve as well, sneaking glances at him every so often, eyes dipping down to Steve's lips more often as he talks, he's sure Eddie knows what's on his mind.

So, it's really not a surprise when one day Steve, Robin, and Eddie are hanging out and Robin backs up with a piece of popcorn in her hand, she says, "Go long," to Steve, and Eddie asks, "A kiss for good luck?"

Steve doesn't hesitate to give him a quick peck before turning back to Robin and gesturing for her to toss him the piece. She frowns momentarily before tossing it.

Steve is almost upset when it lands in his mouth because it means no more chances of a good luck kiss.

But Eddie just smiles and says, "Maybe our kisses really do bring good luck."

Steve can't help but laugh a bit and nudge his shoulder as he grabs a piece of popcorn out of the bucket and leans back to toss it in Eddie's mouth.

Eddie leans forward this time, and Steve kisses him sweetly before pulling back and asking, "Ready?"

Eddie nods and opens his mouth, catching the popcorn easily.

Steve thinks that maybe their kisses really do bring good luck.

When Steve turns to Robin with another kernel, she jokes, "As long as you don't kiss me." But there's something in her tone that lets Steve know that they're talking about this later.

And soon, Eddie is leaving, and Steve can't help but kiss him again saying it's just good luck for the drive back to his new trailer. And of course, it's dark out, so maybe Steve puts a little more into this kiss than usual before they're both pulling away, breathing heavily into the small shared space between them. Eddie says, "Good luck here," before kissing Steve again and turning quickly to leave.

Steve lingers for a moment in the doorway, making sure Eddie drives off safely before closing the door.

"What the hell was that?"

"Jesus, Robin, how long have you been standing there?"

Robin crosses her arms. "I literally hugged him goodbye right before you two decided to make out in front of me. And since when has that been happening, dingus?" The hurt in her tone is loud and clear.

Steve leans back against the door with a sigh. "We've been doing the good luck kiss before all his physical therapy sessions. It's not a big deal though. It's just good luck. And tonight was the first time we've kissed for something other than physical therapy."

Robin's eyebrows furrow. "Steve, at one point he had PT three days a week. And how many sessions did you miss?"

"None," Steve confesses quietly.

"Oh my gosh," Robin says and walks to the living room.

"It's not like that!" Steve argues, following her.

Robin turns around and says, "Yes, it's not like you two have kissed multiple times for the past few weeks just for 'good luck' and nothing else."

Steve sighs and crosses his arms. "It's exactly like that." He pauses and looks away. "Okay, maybe I'm a little kiss-starved, but it doesn't mean anything!"

Robin worries her bottom lip as she stares at Steve looking conflicted. "Have you ever thought that maybe it might mean more to Eddie?"

Steve freezes before shaking his head. "It doesn't."

"Steve-"

"It's just not like that between us, okay?"

Robin stares at him for a few more seconds and quietly says, "You know that it's okay if it is, right?"

Steve nods, not really taking the words to heart. He doesn't feel that way about Eddie. Sure, he likes kissing him and seeing the way he lights up right before they kiss and the way he lingers after but...

It's just not like that.

Steve sighs and looks down. "I'll let you know if anything changes though, okay?"

"Okay," Robin says, sounding a little more satisfied with his answer. "Now you have to help me with my romance problems."

Steve sits back as he listens to Robin rant, trying to ignore the way she still associates him and Eddie with something romantic. And really the kisses are... they're just for good luck... Right?

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve thinks that maybe the kisses are less for good luck the next week after he starts hanging out more and more with Eddie. They've started asking, "A kiss for good luck?" for just about everything - Eddie getting up to get him and Steve two Cokes, Steve grabbing a blanket for them to share, every time they say goodbye, when one of them shifts on the couch or bed to get more comfortable. Anything really.

But now the good luck kisses are no longer verbally prompted. Sometimes, Eddie will look at Steve, and he'll just know he needs the good luck. Or sometimes Steve will look at Eddie, feeling a random need for good luck.

Usually, it never goes beyond the intensity of their first goodbye-good-luck kiss. And they have a mutual silent agreement to have no good luck kisses in front of the kids. Robin is fine - although that comes with a question about his feelings and whatnot which Steve actively likes to avoid.

It's not like he's in denial about the fact he enjoys kissing Eddie. He's just very much in denial about how much he likes kissing Eddie, and he would like to keep it that way until Eddie finds someone else or ends this... whatever they have.

Unfortunately for him, he's forced to think about it when he gets a little too careless during a movie night with The Party.

Everything was going fine really. Steve had even managed to slip three good luck kisses to Eddie when the kids were away from them. And really, they both needed it because dealing with the kids was sometimes hell.

But Steve really had no excuse when he sat down next to Eddie and openly kissed him in front of all the kids. He only realized his mistake when he pulled back and noticed Eddie staring at him with wide eyes.

"Uh, what was that?" Max asks, looking somewhat delighted at the new development.

Steve quickly explains, "It was a good luck kiss."

"See! I told you guys I wasn't lying!" Dustin shouts excitedly at everyone.

Steve and Eddie turn to give him an unimpressed look at the same time.

Dustin holds his hands up as his voice gets a little higher. "What? They didn't believe me when I told them about it before."

"Okay, now we believe you, but what was this good luck kiss even for?" Will asks.

Eddie shifts next to Steve uncomfortably, but Steve easily answers, "Good luck with dealing with you guys. Plus, I needed good luck getting comfortable."

"Good luck getting comfortable?" Lucas clarifies slowly, not even trying to hide his smile.

"Yes," Steve says exasperatedly. "Now can we watch this movie?"

"Are you two dating?" El asks.

Steve tenses up and glances at Eddie.

"No," Mike says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Friends kiss each other all the time for good luck."

Will shoots him a look. "When we were just friends, didn't you literally ask me for a good luck-"

"Hey," Mike says with wide eyes as he turns red. "Not helping."

"We're not dating," Eddie states and starts the movie, "But we are watching this movie."

Steve feels his heart sink at the confirmation. Why the hell is he so upset about Eddie telling the truth? Because that's exactly what it is. The truth. They're not dating so Steve isn't allowed to get upset.

For the rest of the movie, Steve tries to get into the plot, but he can't when Eddie is sitting right next to him, reminding him of what he said.

When the movie ends, Steve immediately gets up and starts cleaning up the mess left by the kids and hurries off to the kitchen to work on the mess in there too. He needs to call Robin.

He scrubs at the countertops and half-heartedly waves at the kids when they yell their goodbyes and rush out the door. He gets stuck at one spot on the counter that won't give and scrubs at it harshly until a hand rests over his.

"Hey," Eddie says softly. "You okay?"

Steve slowly turns to face him and lies, "Yeah. I'm fine."

Eddie's eyes lower to his lips momentarily, but he doesn't lean in. "Are you sure?"

Steve nods in response and turns back to the counter.

"Um, good luck with this."

"I'm going to need it," Steve says, leaning in to stare at whatever is stuck on the counter. He pauses when he realizes what Eddie just said and turns around. "Good luck with the kids."

"I'm definitely going to need it," Eddie says dramatically huffing.

"I could take half of them, you know."

Eddie shrugs and moves closer to him. "Or you could do something else for me."

"Yeah?" Steve asks with a smile, "And what's that?"

"Give me some extra good luck."

Steve snorts as Eddie smiles brightly at him. But he wraps his arms around his shoulders and says, "Extra good luck coming right up."

And this kiss... it feels... different.

It starts out sweet and slow like usual, just a soft press of their lips together before they readjust to get a better angle. But Steve remembers the extra Eddie requested and runs a hand through Eddie's hair, pressing in closer. Eddie's hands wrap around his waist as he turns and presses his back against the counter.

Steve breaks the kiss with a gasp, needing more air and filled with slight shock as all his feelings for Eddie suddenly rise to the surface. He pulls back to look at Eddie for a second, taking in his blown pupils and pink cheeks as he whispers, "Jesus H. Christ."

Steve doesn't waste a second before he kisses Eddie again, immediately deepening the kiss but cradling Eddie's face in his hands, trying to offset the desperation of the kiss with the gentleness of the touch. He wants to let him know we have more time now. Unlike their first kiss, and unlike any of the other ones that Steve couldn't suck it up and admit were real, this is the start of something new. Something-

A loud car horn goes off outside causing Steve and Eddie to break apart, but they linger in each other's arms, both staring, knowing they have more to say but not the time in this moment.

"I have to go," Eddie whispers.

Steve nods, but neither of them moves.

The horn goes off again, and Steve reluctantly moves away, grabbing Eddie's hand to drag him to the front door. He waits a second and says, "Eddie..."

"I know," Eddie says and leans in to kiss him gently. "I'll be back, okay? As soon as I drop the little demons off."

The car horn goes off multiple times in an obnoxious rhythm that Steve guesses is Dustin's own creation. He kisses Eddie on the forehead and opens the door. "Good luck."

"God, I'm going to need it."

Steve watches as Eddie jogs to the van yelling, "I'm coming! I'm coming! It's not like you guys are near your curfew so zip it!"

Steve smiles as the van takes off and Eddie blows him a dramatic kiss.

As soon as they're out of sight, Steve races to the phone and calls Robin.

"Robin speaking," she answers, sounding as if she wants nothing to do with the call.

"Hey," Steve sighs with relief.

"Thank god. I thought you were going to be some telemarketer or something. What's going on?"

"I have feelings for Eddie," Steve confesses immediately.

There's a rustling sound and Robin sighs, "You finally realized it."

"Shut up."

"You know I'm right."

It's true, but Steve isn't going to admit it.

"So, what made you realize?" Robin asks.

Steve leans back against the counter. "He told the kids we weren't dating which I couldn't let go because it hurt so damn much. Then, I kind of figured out when I basically stuck my tongue down his throat."

"Gross. You know I hate that phrase," Robin complains.

"And that's why I say it," Steve says with a smile that slowly turns into a softer one as he thinks about Eddie. "I think I'm going to ask him out."

"I wonder if he'll say yes," Robin jokes. At least, Steve hopes she's joking.

"That's a joke, right?"

"Yes, dingus. I'm pretty sure you guys have been sort of dating in the form of excuses this whole time."

"Don't make fun of us."

Robin snorts. "I'm not, I'm just stating the facts."

Steve sighs, trying not to give away again that she's right.

"I'm happy for you guys," Robin says with an obvious smile that Steve can hear. "And thank you."

"For?"

"Realizing it before I had to knock some sense into you."

Steve rolls his eyes affectionately, knowing she can probably tell even over the phone.

"And for telling me. Which hey, how are you feeling about it?"

Steve shrugs. "I mean, I'm scared, you know? None of my relationships work out, and I need this one to be different."

"I think it will be, but I was more asking about how you're dealing with the knowledge that you like guys."

Steve huffs, "Yeah, I'm not dumb. I knew I was attracted to Eddie, I just didn't want to get emotions involved. I thought you knew this."

"Hello, I'm the same person who couldn't tell that Vickie was into girls as well."

"That's true," he shifts the phone to his other ear and says, "God, I can't believe we're having this conversation over the phone."

"I prefer it to the dirty Starcourt bathroom floors."

"I don't," Steve says with a fond smile.

"Eliminate all the trauma before that moment, and yeah, maybe I do prefer it. Even on the floor."

"I can drag you into the Family Video bathr-"

"Not a chance, dingus," Robin says immediately.

Steve laughs and pauses before saying, "Thanks for letting me take my time to figure it out. Sorry that I was kind of an asshole before."

"You're always kind of an asshole. It's part of the charm."

Steve smiles and says, "Well, then I'm going to be an asshole and tell you I have to hang up, so I can prepare for this life-altering moment."

"Gosh, you two are both so dramatic. You're absolutely perfect for each other."

“Goodbye, Robin,” Steve sighs.

“I would wish you good luck, but I’m not there to kiss you!”

Steve groans as Robin laughs. “I’m hanging up.” He does just that after he hears Robin shriek with more laughter.

She’s never going to let him live this down. (Not that he minds really.)

When Eddie comes back later, the first thing Steve says is, “I need a major good luck kiss.”

“For what?” Eddie asks with a small smile.

“So this really amazing guy will say yes when I ask him out.”

Eddie smiles and wraps his arms around his waist. “You think I’m amazing?”

“So presumptuous of you, assuming I’m talking about you,” Steve jokes.

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, yes. I’m talking about you.”

Eddie smiles and says, “Well, I don’t think you need any good luck then.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks with a smile so wide it almost hurts.

“Definitely. But I’m going to give you some extra good luck just in case.”

Steve kisses him with a smile, pulling back immediately to ask, “You’re saying yes, right?”

“I thought I said I was giving you extra good luck first.”

“Eddie.”

“Yes,” Eddie replies and frowns. “But now what am I giving you extra good luck for?”

“Us? Or maybe we could just call it making out.”

Eddie makes a face and sticks his tongue out. “Bleh, no. No making out in this relationship. Just extra good luck giving.”

Steve laughs and leans in. Giving his boyfriend as much good luck as he can.

[battymommastuff]

Tw: you don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable but could you do the bat boys with a reader with sh scars maybe on their thighs. You really don’t have to though! Also I love your writing!! Have a good day/night!

Perfect Imperfections

Batmom x Batfamily

TW: Mentions of miscarraige, self harm, and depression!!

Masterlist

Why was she so patient? Why was she so insistent? These questions kept replaying in Damian's head as he angrily paced the empty batcave. He'd been living at Wayne manor for nearly a year now, and he wasn't having the best time adjusting. His new home life was a struggle. He wouldn't admit it, but he hated having to share his father with his step mother. He also hated how kind you were to him. Talia never treated him with such kindness, so why are you doing the same? Being the mother figure in the house, you should be strict...and harsh with him. 

Instead you were the opposite, and it made him so angry. The second thing he was struggling to adjust to was his school. He was heavily encouraged by his "siblings" to make friends, but no one seemed to want to be friends with him. Instead he was met with judgemental looks, and hushed whispers. Damian hated his new life, and he wanted to go back to his old one. At least he had some respect there. 

All of this led to today's event. You were walking through the manor in search of Damian. Bonding with him had been more of a struggle than any of your other children. You wanted to get to know him and find some connection between then two of you. You found him sitting on his bed crying softly, "Damian?" You called out, startling the boy. He turned towards you with puffy eyes, and a runny nose, "What's wrong?" You asked and reached out to hug him. 

Damian jumped up and put as much distance between the two of you as he could in his room, "It's nothing! Just leave me alone!" He snapped before running from the room. Now he was angrily pacing the Batcave. This sadness and loneliness that he felt made him want to vomit. He constantly felt like a weight was on his chest, and he couldn't get it to go away. Damian wanted to scream...cry...destroy things. He didn't understand what was wrong with him. 

What he didn't know was that you related to him in that way. He didn't figure it out until a week later. It was movie night at the Wayne Manor. Instead of being on patrol, everyone crammed into the living room with their popcorn and drinks. You were the last one to arrive, and you were wearing pajama shorts with a Superman nightshirt on. That causes your husband to pout for a while. Damian noticed several scars on your thighs. They went from the top of your knee and disappeared under your shorts. He could tell that they weren't from battle. No one else seemed to notice or question them. 

All throughout the movie, Damian's focus was on your scars. What did that to you? Was it self-inflicted? Impossible! You always seemed so happy to do something like that to yourself. He then looked back at your face. Did you feel the same things that he felt? 

><><><><><><><><><><

"Y/n?" You looked up from your book to see Damian standing in front of you, "The other night...when we were watching the movie. I noticed the scars on your legs." You looked down to your legs which were covered by your pants. You'd completely forgotten that Damian hadn't ever seen them before, "How did you get them? Was it from a fight?" He asked nervously, and felt guilty for even asking in the first place. 

You let out a shaky breath as you set your book down, "I gave them to myself. It was several years ago..." You felt sick to your stomach as you remembered that time. The mental hell you had been in, and was still fighting to this day, "Your father, and I had found out that I was pregnant. I was two months in when I lost it." A tear slipped from your eye as you remembered the pain you felt that night, "After that night, I couldn't eat...I couldn't sleep. All I could do was cry and cry until I felt numb..." Damian moved closer to you, and sat down on the couch with you, "So numb that I wanted to feel something, some feeling that made me feel alive. So I cut myself...over and over." You wiped another tear from your face and sniffled. 

"What made you stop?" 

"It was about a year after adopting Dick. He was such a happy little boy, and he wanted to show me his report card. He didn't know it was the anniversary of us losing the baby, and I didn't know that he was coming home early. He walked in on me cutting my thighs." Damian felt his eyes start to water. He didn't know what came over him, but he launched himself onto you. A hug so tight, it might be choking you. You hugged him back and couldn't help but cry with him once you felt his tears soak into your shirt. You finished telling him the story. About how you started seeing a therapist, and taking medicine to help. Also about how you started getting better despite the several setbacks you had along the way. 

He then opened up to you about how he felt, and you along with the rest of his family helped him get better as they did for you. Four years later, he was walking towards the back of the manor with a bouquet of flowers in his arm. He stopped at a small headstone with other flowers surrounding it. The headstone for the unborn Wayne child. His potential older sibling. Damian set the flowers down before he crouched down in front of the stone, "I learned that there are an infinite number of universes out there, and I know there's one where we got to meet you. This universe never got the chance to, but Ummi told me that you sent us all to her. If that's true, then thank you. For giving me the best mother, and supporter I could ever want."

[hopepetal]

Hi! It's been a while, hasn't it?

@applestruda, @periwinklemoonlight, and I have been working on arc three of the boatem knights au for quite a while now. We hope you enjoy it :)

At the moment, the second chapter is not ready for posting, so it won't be out for a while.

Boatem Knights AU fic masterlist

Read on AO3!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated :)

His nightmares hadn’t gone away.

Feathers rustling in the wind, Grian gazed up toward the night sky. Sighing heavily, he glanced back toward Pearl’s tent. She had offered for him to join her many times– avians were highly sociable after all, and often slept in the same nest– but he’d refused. He wouldn’t want to wake her up as well.

It didn’t make sense. 

Dreams of a desert, of cold silver skin, of red eyes and names and flowers and blood. And every day they’d gotten worse. More vivid.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t something Grian had the energy to figure out right now. He needed sleep.

He stood up and walked back to his own tent, and settled down for what would be another restless night.

And he hadn’t woken up the next day. 

Or the day after that. 

Or the day after that. 

The first day Grian slept through, Pearl hadn’t been too worried. With how bad her brother’s insomnia could get, it wasn’t a rare occurrence for him to not get enough sleep during the night and then make up for it during the day. She’d checked in on him, of course, and smiled softly at the sight of him curled up in his blankets, wings resting on either side of him as he smushed his face into the pillow. 

“He probably just had a rough night,” she mentioned to the others during lunch, “I wouldn’t bother him.”

Mumbo looked up, frowning slightly. “Hasn’t he mentioned having nightmares for a while now? Maybe that’s what’s been keeping him up.”

Pearl nodded, wings fluttering anxiously behind her. “Yeah. The last few months have been rough on him.”

“I think it’s from all the building we have to do,” Scar piped up. “Trying to finish the lodge has been a nightmare.”

“We’re almost done!” Pearl argued, optimistic as ever. “Just a little more, then we’re all set!”

Mumbo slumped back in his seat, letting out a soft huff. “Can’t we just leave it as is? I think it’s perfectly well done.” 

Scar raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “I think you just don’t like building, mister.”

Mumbo rolled his eyes, though he was unable to hold back a grin. “Well, it’s certainly not my favorite activity. I’d much rather be–”

“–working on your redstone, we know.” Impulse chuckled, shaking his head. “Unless you want to be buried in snow by the time winter comes around, we probably shouldn’t be calling the lodge ‘perfectly well done’.”

Mumbo grumbled a little at that, much to the amusement of the others. “Look, I’ll do my tasks and everything, but I’m not happy about it!” 

Pearl laughed, leaning against the table. “You gotta weigh your options, mate. Either build the lodge now, or be wet and freezing during the winter. Which one would you prefer?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

The knights quickly finished lunch after that, making small talk as they cleaned and put away the dishes. The leftovers from lunch were stored away for later, placed in the shed they had built a while back so that the wild animals wouldn’t be able to get into their food.

“Same duties as earlier?” Impulse asked Pearl as they all made their way to the half-finished lodge. 

Pearl nodded, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “I don’t see why we would change them. I’ll take on Grian’s duties on top of mine, though I can’t promise I’ll be as fast.”

“Good thing we’re so ahead of schedule, then!” Scar piped up. “It’s a lot easier to focus on one thing instead of a whole bunch of tiny tasks.”

Pearl laughed, her wings fluttering in amusement. “That, and we’re all insanely fast builders. Who would’ve thought?”

Impulse grinned. “Well, I’m just naturally good at everything I do, so I’m not surprised.”

Laughing and joking, the four went about completing their tasks. The sounds of construction filled the air, conversation occasionally popping up alongside it. As the day progressed, it began to get hotter and hotter, construction slowing down as it did so.

Finally, the sun began to set, and their long day of work was called to an end by Mumbo. It was just routine at this point– the knights would work until the sun began to set and then they’d all gather at the west end of camp to watch the sun go down. Mumbo was always the quickest to put away his tools, and today was no different. Impulse and Scar went to join him, while Pearl slipped off to go check on her brother. Just as she had expected, he had barely moved from his sleeping position, only shifted slightly in a likely effort to get more comfortable. She pulled up one of the ottomans, settling down next to his bed. 

Reaching out, Pearl gently brushed some hair out of her brother's warm face, smiling slightly. “Heyyy, Griba,” she murmured, softly so that she wouldn't startle him if he wasn't fully asleep, “you doing alright, mate? You've been asleep all day.” No response. He must've been really out of it. “Well, I brought some food and fresh water. It’ll be on the side table for when you wake up– you must be pretty hungry.” She sighed softly, leaning back. “Well, I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow, Griba. I love you.” 

Standing, Pearl quietly left the tent and joined the other knights to watch the sun finish setting. She settled down next to Scar, leaning against him with a sigh. The grass was soft against her skin as she sat and tried to relax, breathing in the fresh air and exhaling the anxiety that was building in her chest. Her whole body ached from the exertion of a day spent building, and the cool night air that brushed against her skin and wove through her hair was a welcome relief from the end of summer heat. 

Scar glanced over at Pearl, giving her his signature crooked smile. “How’s our sleeping friend holding up?” he asked.

Pearl sighed softly, closing her eyes briefly. “Still sleepin’ the day away,” she answered. “I dropped off some food and water in case he wakes up and needs something. I'm glad he’s getting rest, though. I think I’m gonna keep him from helping us work on the lodge for a bit, though. It can’t be good for him to be exhausted and pushing himself like that.”

“Agreed.” Impulse stretched before running a hand through his hair, carefully avoiding his horns. “It’s hard work we’re doing here, man. Kinda wish Skizz could’ve stayed a little longer to help out, but I guess a man’s gotta do his job.”

“And Tango’s been busy,” Scar added, “apparently he's workin’ on a super secret fly-ification project, whatever that means.”

“Sounds terrifying,” Pearl laughed, Impulse nodding along in agreement. Mumbo’s attention seemed to have been caught by that, and he perked up.

“A project? Do you think he’d let me take a look? I know he had mentioned a few things about combining redstone and engineering and really, it was quite fascinating and we had a truly intriguing discussion on…” Mumbo trailed off, noticing how Pearl and Scar were just staring at him. “...well, Impulse gets me!” he flusteredly got out, and the others began to laugh. 

Impulse smiled, chuckling. The light from the setting sun reflected off his piercings, causing them to shine when they caught the light. “That I do, buddy. That I do.”

Mumbo blinked. “Well. Alright, then.”

Pearl stood as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, stretching her wings as the shadows began to grow over the land. “I don’t know about you, but I am absolutely exhausted. I’m heading off to bed. Good night!” She spread her wings and took off, flying low over the ground until she reached her tent. She landed softly, ducking into her tent and changing into her night clothes– soft blue pajamas with stars and little crescent moons. 

Sleep called her name, and Pearl felt the weight of exhaustion pulling her down. She climbed into bed, settling on her stomach and wrapping her arms around the soft pillow. She’d just barely closed her eyes before sleep descended like a soft blanket, and she drifted into unconsciousness.

Grian didn’t wake up the next day. 

When Pearl woke, her limbs still somewhat sore from the day before, she went to check in on Grian before she started her morning chores. He wasn’t up, which meant he hadn’t woken up during the night and stayed up until dawn (again). Pearl was still a little concerned nonetheless, and rushed through her morning chores so that she could go check on Grian. 

When she peeked into his tent, her worry increased at the fact that he hadn’t touched his food or water, and had barely moved from the sleeping position she’d last seen him in. “Griba?” she called softly, “Griba, hey. Are you up?” Upon receiving no answer, she carefully crept forward and placed a gentle hand against his head. 

Oh, no.

Grian had a fever. 

“Griba.” She gently shook him. “Griba. Grian. Grian. Wake up.” Her voice became more frantic as her brother continued to be unresponsive, anxiety spiking in her chest as she tried to wake him. “Please. Don’t do this. Don’t do this, Grian. Please.” 

Still, nothing. 

Pearl’s gaze went to the side table, and she stumbled over, grabbing the pen and some blank paper that had been sitting there. Quickly, she wrote down a message to Cub, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she did so. 

Cub,

I’ve been sending quite a few letters lately and I hate to bother you once more, but Grian is sick. He isn’t waking up, and he slept all through yesterday as well. When I checked on him this morning, he was burning up. I’ve tried waking him up, but he hasn’t even responded. 

Please come as soon as you can. 

Pearl

She began folding the paper as she ducked out Grian’s tent, almost running into Scar as she did so. “Ah! Oh, mate, careful!” 

Scar laughed softly, pressing his hands to his chest. “You scared me, Pearl!” he retorted, taking a moment to calm himself down. He caught sight of the paper in Pearl's hands. “Sending another letter, are we?” he asked. “More moth mail?”

Pearl, despite the anxiety she was currently feeling, had to smile. Rolling her eyes, she responded, “We’re not calling it moth mail, Scar.” She closed her eyes and breathed out, pushing her magic into the paper. It took the form of a moth, glowing with enchantments, and flew off. She was quiet for a moment with Scar as they watched it fly off, before sighing. “Grian’s sick,” she told him, “and he’s not waking up. I was just sending a letter to Cub to ask him to come up and check on him.”

Scar frowned, humming thoughtfully. “And this isn’t just Grian being Grian?” he asked, but Pearl shook her head. 

“He’s not waking up, and he’s running a fever. Which, if he was even responding a tiny bit, would be fine, but he’s not even– it’s like he can’t hear me at all. Normally he’d at least have woken up a little and smacked me away or something, but…” Pearl shook her head. “Nothing. He was just… sleeping.” 

“Should we let the other two know?” Scar asked, gesturing with his head over to where Impulse and Mumbo were. They were working on the lodge once more– Mumbo, struggling to walk with the heavy materials and Impulse, carrying as much as he could and encouraging Mumbo on with a smile and kind words. 

Pearl nodded, already starting to walk toward them. “Absolutely. C’mon, mate!” 

Scar jogged over until he was walking by Pearl's side. “Hey! Mister Mumbo Jumbo! Impulse! Hey!” he shouted, waving his arms over his head. “Over here!”

Pearl laughed, shaking her head slightly. “Scar, no need to shout. They’re right there.” Her wings fluttered anxiously behind her as they approached Mumbo and Impulse. “Hey, you two.”

Impulse set down the logs he had been carrying, and Mumbo did the same before collapsing into the grass. “Heya Pearl,” Impulse greeted, “what’s up?”

“Not good news, unfortunately.” The mood sombered up as soon as those words left Pearl's mouth. “Grian’s sick, and he’s not waking up. I sent a message to Cub, but I’m gonna run to the village real quick to grab some general medicine and such. I meant to get some on the next trip, but…” She trailed off. “Clearly, we need them now.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Impulse offered, to which Pearl shook her head. 

“I’ll be flying. It’s faster that way.” Pearl glanced over at Scar, who had joined Mumbo in the grass. “Can you three keep watch over Griba and the camp while I’m gone? Oh, and keep an eye out for a response to the letter I sent to Cub– it’ll be coming back as an enchanted moth, you know what they look like. I don’t think he’ll be sending you a response this quick, but better alert than caught sleeping.” She coughed slightly. “Uh. Excuse the irony of that wording. It’s just a phrase.”

Impulse nodded. “Don’t worry about a thing, Pearl. We’ve got things handled here. Go and get the medicine.”

Scar stood, helping Mumbo up as well. “Yeah! We’ll stop working on the lodge for a bit while this whole thing is goin’ on. Grian’s more important than a building, anyway.”

Pearl heaved a sigh of relief, smiling softly. “Oh, thank you all. This means a lot.” She stretched, spreading her wings and fluttering them slightly before relaxing. “Right. I’ll be off then. Stay out of trouble, ya hear?”

Scar saluted. “Aye aye!” 

With that, Pearl took off, flying over the camp and toward the village. Worry settled uneasily in her stomach, squeezing her chest as she tried to not spiral into an anxiety attack. It would not be good to do that while flying, she figured. 

Grian would be fine. Grian would be– he was fine, he was just sick and once he got rest everything would go back to normal. They’d continue building the lodge and get it done before winter and then they’d move on to their next adventure. 

Yeah.

Everything was going to be fine. 

In a house surrounded by much more greenery than the canyon that it sat in, Cub was working on a very dangerous project. 

Well, it wasn’t dangerous– as long as he took proper care when he was around it and made sure to wear protective gear, of course. A mask fit snugly over his mouth and nose, and he wore elbow long gloves with his lab coat sleeves tucked into them to make sure there was zero possibility of the subject of his experiment touching his skin. 

Holding up the blue-green mold (sculk, the book had called it) up to the light with a pair of tweezers, Cub squinted. It appeared to almost have a sort of heartbeat, he noticed, as it pulsed rhythmically. It might’ve grossed some out, but it made Cub grin. This was so exciting. He had only heard of sculk before, from ancient books and harrowed miners who had narrowly escaped death. To be able to study it like this, up close… it was a dream come true.

Cub jotted down some more notes with one hand, holding up the sculk with his other hand. His attention divided, focus solely locked in on the things he was writing, it was no wonder he got startled by the enchanted paper moth that landed on his desk. He dropped the tweezers with a loud swear, the sculk landing in his lap. No matter– he simply picked it back up with his gloved hands and put it back into its container, sealing it away. He then carefully unfolded the moth, recognizing instantly Pearl's handwriting. 

He frowned as he read the letter, before sighing heavily. “I really can’t leave them alone for five minutes, can I?” Glancing back down at his desk, Cub bit his lip, weighing his options in his head. He really had to finish this current experiment in a certain time frame, and Grian was a healthy man (and a Watcher, besides!). He’d be fine if he had to wait for a little while longer. 

He went and wrote a response on the back of the letter Pearl had sent, chuckling slightly at how his handwriting compared to Pearl’s. 

Pearl,

I’ll be there as soon as I finish up what I was doing. I assume it’ll take me quite some time, so I’ll head out early tomorrow morning. Keep an eye on Grian, give him some medicine and try to get some fluids into him. 

Don’t panic. Remember what I’ve been telling you in our letters– take a deep breath, calm yourself, and try not to let your thoughts spiral. You’re doing a great job. 

Cub

He carefully folded the paper back up, watching as the magic Pearl imbued into it activated, and the moth sprang to life before fluttering off in the direction it came from. Cub’s sharp eyesight caught the moment it burst into purple sparks of magic and sped off into the distance– “moth mail” always fascinated him. It was clearly a concept Pearl had either made up or been taught, and he’d have to ask her some more questions about it later. 

But for now, the sculk called his name. 

It took a little longer than expected to finish up the experiment, but Cub always stayed true to his word. The next day, he woke up with the gray light of dawn and gathered his things, taking care to lock his door before leaving. 

The sun began to rise as Cub started down the familiar path to the camp.

You know how this story goes, by now. 

Grian didn’t wake up the next day. 

Pearl did her best to follow the advice in Cub’s letter– give Grian fluids, take deep breaths, try not to spiral, try not to spiral, try not to–

She was fine. She was fine. 

…which was why she ended up breaking down into tears when Scar asked her how she was feeling, and felt his arms wrap around her and pull her close. “I’m– I’m sorry, I just–” She gasped for air, squeezing her eyes shut tight as hot tears cooled on her skin. Her hands were trembling as she wrung them together, trying to lean into Scar’s calming presence. 

Scar gently shushed her, carefully patting her back between her wings as he tried to soothe her. “It’s a stressful situation, Pearl,” he murmured, his voice quiet and comforting. “It’s okay to be scared. Did you wanna send a letter to Jimmy or something? I’m sure he would be more than willing to come on up for a little bit to help out.” As he spoke, he pulled away from the hug and summoned Jellie, setting the furry blue familiar on Pearl’s lap. “Pet the Jellie. You’ll feel better.”

Pearl smiled weakly through her tears, beginning to gently stroke Jellie’s fur. She felt the tension begin to leave her body as Jellie started purring, her breathing evening out as the cat curled up on her lap. “No… no, Jimmy worries more than I do, I don’t think it would be good to stress him out over this… because it’ll be fine. It’s going to be fine.”

Scar nodded. “Right you are, Pearl. It’s gonna be just fine. G’s just taking a big ol’ nap right now, sleepin’ off that nasty fever of his. Give him a little longer and he’ll be just like new. Cub will help him out and then he’ll get rid of that darn sickness in no time!”

Mumbo, who was sitting nearby, leaned forward. “Scar is right, you know. This isn’t the first time one of us has come down with a nasty illness of some sort. Grian just needs a little care and rest, I’m sure!”

Pearl nodded, taking in deep breaths as she continued to idly pet Jellie, wiping stray tears from her face. “Thanks, Scar. Mumbo. I needed that.”

Scar smiled reassuringly, giving her a thumbs up. “No problem, Pearl.”

Mumbo simply nodded, smiling. “Of course, mate.”

It wasn’t long after that Cub finally walked out of Grian’s tent, his expression kept carefully neutral. “Hey, you three. Pearl, could I speak with you?”

Pearl nodded, anxiety spiking once more as she prepared herself for whatever Cub was about to tell her. “Yeah. Of course. Scar, do you mind…?” She gestured toward Grian’s tent with a slight nod, standing up from where she had been sitting next to Scar in the grass and handing him Jellie.

Scar jumped up as well, brushing off his pants before taking Jellie and quietly dismissing his familiar. “Of course, my dear Pearl! I’ll keep a close eye on G.” Scar ducked into Grian's tent, going to take a seat on the ottoman that had remained pulled up next to Grian’s bed. He settled himself down, letting out a soft sigh and leaning forward. 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Y’know, G, this isn’t funny anymore.” Scar swallowed dryly, licking his cracked lips. “I’m all for pranks and stuff, but this is going too far. Pearl’s upset, Mumbo is worried, Impulse is trying to keep the other two calm, and I’m…” He shook his head. “C’mon, G. Please.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Please.” 

No response. Of course. Grian was asleep, why would he respond? 

“I mean, really. It's like you’ve been cursed or something,” he weakly joked, before the thought really hit him. Could Grian have been…?

Scar closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and shifted into his vex form. 

The smell of magic, powerful and wrong, was so strong Scar nearly gagged. He stumbled back, eyes widening as he realized that the magic was coming from Grian, wrapping around his body and curling around his throat. 

Slowly, hesitantly, Scar approached Grian and knelt by the bed. Reaching out, he carefully opened one of Grian’s eyes with his hand. 

Purple. 

Grian’s eyes were glowing purple. 

Scar felt the magic suddenly recede, drawing into Grian like the water being pulled back into the sea. With a sharp inhale, he stumbled back, shifting out of his vex form as he burst out from the tent. “Guys!” he yelled, “guys, something's wrong with–!”

Grian’s magic exploded outwards.

Pearl screamed, lunging forward as she shifted into her Watcher form, wrapping her arms around the only person close enough for her to protect– Mumbo. The two fell to the ground, surrounded by a translucent magic shield that glowed in blue and silver hues. All around them, purple magic swirled and raged like a storm, and all they were able to do was watch as Impulse and Scar collapsed. 

Cub was pushed to his knees, vex form flickering as his own shield began to crack around him. The magic howled in a screeching voice, swirling around Cub’s shield in an attempt to break through and take him as well. 

“Pearl–!” Mumbo cried out, clinging to her tightly. He was pressed against the ground and could hardly see past Pearl, but what he could see terrified him. Pearl’s shield was beginning to give under the incessant pushing of Grian’s out of control magic, and there was nothing he could do but watch.

Pearl bit out a sob, holding Mumbo close. The strain of fighting against her brother’s magic had her gasping, grabbing for any and all energy she had to pour into the shield around her and Mumbo. Raising her head, guilt and fear filled her chest as she caught sight of Impulse and Scar, limp on the ground. She could only pray that they were okay. That they were alive. 

The magic like raging wind reached a peak, screaming so loud Pearl’s sensitive ears ached. And just like that, it was over.

Pearl, Cub, and Mumbo were the only ones awake when their shields came down.

All across the realm, Grian’s magic reached out and pulled others into a deep sleep. A king and his hand, alongside his best soldier. A huntsman. A time wizard, armorer, and a friend of the nearby innkeep. A man who guided others through the mountains. An avian, netherborn, and a man who sold flowers. 

One by one, they were surrounded by purple magic, angry and screaming and wanting. And one by one, they all fell asleep. 

Grian woke up to impossibly familiar faces and one objective: survive. 

He pushed himself up from the ground, shaking his head slightly to clear the fuzz as he looked around at the gathered group. “Welcome to Third Life,” he greeted in a voice that wasn’t quite his own, with words he wasn’t sure how he knew. “You all have three lives. Once you lose your last life, you are out.”

Confusion and concern echoed from those around him, and Grian raised his voice. “When you are on your last life– your red life– you will become hostile. All previous alliances will be broken.”

A deep breath.

“Good luck.”

[mikgreo]

try to forget her.

sypnosis. rin knows you’re far from reach. he didnt mean what he said, he knows he never will. hes slowly spiraling into madness. fully aware you may never come back. What will happen after he comes back from Blue Lock?

pairings. itoshi rin x fem! reader

content. angst, swearing, casual sae hating, au! before blue lock project but he later on goes into it, intrusive thoughts, mentions of self harm, depression, mentally ill rin, starvation, coping mechanisms, basically really mentally ill rin. unstable relationship, mentions of underage sex. dunno what else

wc. 2.7k

a/n. sadly very ooc.. not proof read. heavily inspired by tyler the creators snippet *try to forget her* i saw an edit and immediately thought i should do some type of angst fic with it. PART 2 IS CONFIRMED!!!

itoshi rin, a man full of disgust towards anything and everybody. many thought of him as self absorbed, selfish, a man with a distinctively huge ego. many admired him only his looks, some because of his brother, some not at all.

but if there was one thing everyone know about itoshi rin, it was that he was a hell of a striker. many acknowledged his skill at the sport, he led his team to victory, but was it really for the team, or for him?

it was no secret that rin had a brother, more successful and skilled. nobody had ever known why there was such tension between them, no one bothered to ask why.

rin hated being compared to the man he hated the most, he wondered if it was hate, admiration, jealousy maybe? he never really mentioned it. not that he had anyone to mention it to.

Rin did not set differences aside, he wanted to do everything his brother accomplished, but better.

Rin wanted to be completely better than Itoshi Sae. he wanted to have his own title in the soccer world. he wanted to be admired for being Itoshi Rin, not Sae.

He thought, “whatever i have that he doesn’t, will be one step closer to getting to my goal.” he desperately tried to obtain every skill he could to stand out.

Rin wasn’t exactly worse than Sae.. but he wasn’t any better. one could say there was just a tiny 10% that separated them, only in skill.

Rin was attractive. he had a good body, good voice, good grades. he was every girls dream man. his personality didn’t stop any woman from being head over heels for him, but it would always change once they saw his brother, only being blinded by the richness and success, rather than looks.

one could argue they were equal in everything but soccer.

it had come to the point where Rin couldn’t figure out what he was missing. until you showed up one day.

there was an exchange student, not only exchange, but foreign. you were from (country) and it just so happened to be the one Rin had always dreamed of going to.

when he set his glowing teal eyes on you, he was mesmerized. you didn’t look like the average japanese girl, or obviously an average tourist.

your beauty was something he couldn’t comprehend.

your hair looked so silky. your skin so smooth yet had the faintest texture. your outfit was carefully picked out, obviously not having a school uniform yet. your makeup so beautifully done, not being too packed with it, just enough to make him acknowledge it.

your lips were plump and glossy, your cheeks were flushed and shiny, all red from the embarrassment.

your lashes so long, not as long as his he thought, but long enough. your eye color wasn’t anything special but he just felt like it was. your eyebrows so perfectly shaped, but natural.

he looked further down, to your body. he could care less but he had to take in the amount of beauty you carried..

your legs looked so perfectly long and smooth, you were obviously shorter than him, just right. your arms rested by your sides so perfectly as well. your cutely done nails, how your hands had no scars, obviously belonging to a woman who’s taken care of herself.

he listened as you spoke, your voice had no roughness, no cracks no nervous vibrations. it was smooth and quiet. calm.

you were sat next to him, what a coincidence. the teacher put you there temporarily next to rin because he was the top student, we could help you catch up.

Rin introduced himself to you, catching you looking at his lips as he spoke, he remained nonchalant and just did as he was told.

you had told him you weren’t very fluent in japanese, but knew the basics, you could understand japanese, just not speak. your father was japanese, from the kanto region, and had gone to america for work, meeting your mother.

he taught you many things and helped you improve your japanese.

a couple months passed, you had asked him to meet you on the stairs before the top floor.

thats where you had confessed to him, he could never forget what you said.

“itoshi-kun..i am very sorry if i butcher this but.. ive been meaning to tell you for a very long time, about how i feel. so if you will let me, may i share this with you?”

rin chuckled at the hesitation and nervousness in your voice, knowing you didnt have to be so fancy with honorifics or anything, or call him by his last name.

“Yeah sure, go ahead.” he smiled at you slightly.

“Ever since you and I got closer, Ive felt a weird feeling inside my chest. everytime i heard a girl talk about you my heart would sink. i started caring more about your whereabouts and opinions. i found myself being worried about you, and caring about what you thought. i would get up in the morning excited to see you, trying my best to look pretty for you. i tried to go to all your games and support you even if you wouldnt see me, even if i would blend in with other girls. i was glad i got to sit next to you, i am grateful for it now. because it led me to become closer to you, and not anyone else. Itoshi Rin, i like like you. i love you. and i want to be together, as a couple. i understand if you dont feel the same way bu-”

“y/n.. i love you too.”

you two went on to have the best memories together, you had told rin a 9 months into your relationship that you were a virgin. you two ended up having sex. you went out together, he met your parents, he didnt feel comfortable about his family so he left it at that. you understood.

you two were in love.

you guys went on to date for 2 years, but whenever rin turned 16 things started to get weird.

you and him were always fighting. he would ignore you at times, sometimes hours, sometimes days.

you were understanding of his soccer career, not that it was much of a career, yet you never told him.

you just wanted him to be there for you, with you.

the start of november, you decided to confront rin about it.

“Why do you always fucking ignore me for that shitty ass sport?! all you do is make fake promises and go on and say how youre sorry and youll do better but do the same thing but just worse. im not asking for alot itoshi but for the love of god please act like you fucking love me again.”

rin was on his last straw, he didnt know why he was so mad, maybe it was because by the day his brother was getting better and more popular, he was determined to be better than him, even if it meant ignoring you, and setting you aside.

“Look y/n, i dont fucking know why you care so goddamn much. mind your own fuckin’ business and find something to do. all you do is complain, i need space okay?! Im not sorry to say this, and im gonna dumb it down for ya, your annoying, wasting my time, and i just need you to leave me the fuck alone alright? stop fuckin’ running yer mouth and be good at somethin’ for once. fuckin’ bitch. all you use your damn mouth for is to complain, go get a job or sumthin’ i dunno. wish you never fucking came to japan.”

you never said anything and walked out of his house.

2 days later you had sent him a message sending him farewell and you loved and hoped he would grow on his journey as a soccer player.

ever since that day, no matter how much rin tried to find your whereabouts, he always failed.

he felt miserable. he wanted you back.

how could he? he said so many things to you, he meant them at the time, but it wasnt his fault. he didn’t mean to bottle everything up. he wouldve talked to you about it, maturely.

he blamed it on his brother, like he always did.

he thought it was some kind of bad luck spell Sae had given him.

Rin suffered in silence.

he missed you he missed your touch, the way you would look at him and hold him, how you would whisper cute things in his ear while you cuddled.

he missed how he would open every door for you, he made you bento boxes, he missed your home made chocolate. he missed how he would spot you in the bleachers at his soccer game, he would pretend to not see you out of embarrassment.

he dreaded sitting in the same seat he sat in whenever you met, seeing you sit next to some other random dude.

how could he just forget about you? when you’re there everyday at school. he hated seeing you look miserable, alone.

he knew you still werent that good with the language, so you were unable to make friends, let alone girl ones. they all hated you for your relationship with rin.

he was worried. he wish he could have you in his arms and tell you everything was going to be okay.

he felt extreme guilt as the days went by, remembering how you have your own family problems, your own health problems.

how did he just leave without a fight? how did he accept you two were done and went on with his day.

he remembered about all the memories. how you two had sexual relations, despite being dumb teenagers. you didnt do it more than 3 times, but he still thought of it as special.

he missed how you cradled him in your arms, rubbed his cheeks, gave him massages after practice or games.

he missed you playing with his hair. your kisses. your soft warmth of your body. everything.

he wish he chased you, fought hard to keep you, beg for you.

but he didn’t.

thats when the thoughts started happening.

rin would find himself on the edge of his bed thinking about how your life would be with another man.

he sat on the floor of his bathroom and sobbed, knowing there was a zero chance in hell you would forgive him for anything.

he hated himself. he hated what he was, who he was.

it got so bad rin started praying night. he prayed for you, about you, for both of you. he begged and sobbed to the man he believed was up in heaven somewhere judging him for his actions. the man he believed put him in this situation to suffer.

he would never harm himself, he knew that. but he fought his intrusive thoughts. he didn’t want to make any cuts on his arms, he always thought they were unnecessary.

instead, he unconsciously starved himself.

rin couldnt eat, he couldnt sleep.

he couldn’t take care of himself or his room, he was a mess.

he wanted to disappear, he wanted to just pretend he never came into this world. he hated his mother for birthing him, he hated his brother even more.

he couldn’t think anymore, he layed on his bed. staring at the inanimate objects around his room.

he missed you, he thought about you.

about your mother, and father whom he met.

about your siblings and pets.

he missed who he was.

he tried to forget those things

“try to forget her.” he said to himself as he woke up for yet another day of school.

rin liked to think he could telepathically, someway, talk to you when he really tried.

“i just hope you saved my number,” he thought, “Call me when you can.”

he knew you had blocked him, but had you really? what if you missed him too. what if you couldn’t forgive him, but you could miss him.

he thought surely you missed your long talks at night on the phone, cuddling with him, having lunch together.

was it all a blur to you? did your people not care for relationships?

Rin went out on walks sometimes, to help cope, to help him forget, to ease his mind. he stared at the ponds, the fish, the trees. the sky, the clouds. he wondered what the plants felt like, being all alone, unable to move or speak. how they felt whenever a dog would urinate on them, or how a tree felt when a couple carved their initials on it.

did they need to scream? cry? laugh?

he went into a state of derealization at one point, for about 2 days, he thought he wasn’t here.

he was just a ghost, you were a dream, his brother wasnt his brother, he was just a sad dead person with free time. alot of it.

he hated being here.

Rin repeated the same cycle everyday.

wake up, shower, eat breakfast, brush teeth get ready for school.

see you in class, sitting alone, sometimes with a random person you had assigned seats with.

go up to the rooftop for lunch, seeing you at the stairs as he went up, trying his best to not acknowledge you.

go to soccer practice

walk the path to your house, then to his.

check the mail. go inside his house.

take off his clothes, take a shower, lay in bed, and eventually, after some tears, fall asleep.

Rin felt lost, he lost his will to try.

he continued exceeded at sports and school.

that he never worsened in, he was always top 1 and remained that way.

that was until his teacher asked him to help you again, since you were failing.

“I understand if you two have broken up, it is none of my business really. But if you could set your arguments aside and focus on her academic work, that would be amazing. She’s really struggling again, Itoshi-kun. If you are unable to please let me know.”

Rin had a selfish feeling, he was glad to know that you were also struggling like him over the breakup.

he let his ego get to him, sometimes the thought that it might just be your family crossed his mind. but he always settled on that it was the fact that you two broke up.

rin planned to talk to you about class, of course it being just an excuse.

he decided he was gonna do it the following day, november 20th, 2018.

unfortunately, you weren’t at school that day.

he thought nothing of it, he was just gonna ask you tomorrow. same plan same everything.

he was gonna confess his feelings of regret, and guilt. he was going to own up to missing you.

rin went home that day, devastated, but a slight excitement for tomorrow.

he was happy, that tomorrow might be the day that everything goes back to normal.

he checked the mail.

he had received a letter, something claiming that he had been chosen to go into some stupid Blue lock project. saying the meeting is in september 4th.

he ignored it.. but it interested him. he was gonna go, he thought why not?

you hadnt gone to school all week.

rin asked his teacher if he knew why you hadn’t attended school, claiming he just needed to talk to you about tutoring you.

“Oh, y/n-san? she’s gone to america, to visit her grandmother, she should be back september 4th.”

september 4th? thats the day he had to go to that meeting. that tuesday he would be gone and you would be back.

he began to worry, what was he gonna do?

the day of came. he decided to go to the soccer program, figuring he would just see you the next day.

“is this the right place? it looks all weird. i wonder what bullshit they’ll say.” he scoffed, looking at the letters address slightly looking up, matching it to the building number.

they had told him they wouldn’t be allowed to go back home, they would stare at this Blue Lock, until they fought to find the best striker in japan.

Rin was angry. Angry at himself, angry at this strangers.

part of him lured him to do it. he wanted to become better. he wanted to be the best.

but what about you?

ive never written angst before i hope i did good for my first time..😭

[sabinemorans]

Dawn

Aegon x Aemond fic

(Nightly Fantasies 2)

Word Count: 1118

NSFW warnings: targcest, submissive Argon, Dominant Aemond, male breeding fantasy, toxic devotion

Aemond was pressing kisses to Aegon’s shoulder as he fucked into him while spooning. Each soft, almost *too sweet* moan was music to his ears. It was daylight now, but still early. Aemond was a naturally early riser who liked to stretch and exercise before having his morning meal so he was rarely bothered before the ninth morning hour with food or anything. Aegon, the servants well knew was lazy, and often wasn’t even up before midday so any food brought would be wasted. It was the perfect motivation to get in another attempt at *conceiving*, which led to this moment now. Aegon’s hand reaching back to clutch at Aemond’s head, arching so needily to meet the cock in his ass and Aemond’s hand lazily stroking his king’s cock with the occasional nipple touching.

Every time he gave Aegon’s nipples a little rub with his thumb or pinched it Aemond made himself a promise to lean heavily into it the next time they did this. Maybe in the “proper” breeding position…so he could watch the other’s facial expressions.

Aegon was prettiest when he was fully exposed to his brother with his pale skin flushed or spanked pink and his needy, blissed out, *adoring* faces all out in the open for Aemond to admire. He really was a beautiful man, and Aemond loved to hammer the compliment home as he drove deeply into him.

“My pretty love,” the Prince whispered, licking the outer shell of the other’s ear as he quickened his place just enough to be stimulating but not to force the other into the final throes just yet. “You’re so delectable in the morning light, I could devour you.”

He punctuates this with a deep thrust and twist of the wrist which had Aegon covering his mouth to stop from crying out. He moaned behind his hands a few moments before setting his hand on top of Aemond’s, just holding it.

“J-just for you, only you dear b-b-brother.” Aegon was reaching his limit. He was getting goose flesh and it had Aemond smiling.

He leans closer and presses a kiss to the corner of Aegon’s mouth. Aegon turned to him to kiss him fully, the act between them slow and sensual with adoration in every touch of their tongues and meeting of their lips. “Say it for me…,” Aemond whispered, pulling back to meet their eyes and stilling his body.

The eye contact was intense and Aegon took a moment to catch his breath, then cup Aemond’s scarred face more tenderly than he had the night before. His thumbnail gently tracing the bottom lip.

“I love you.” The King said, then gulped, seeming to steel himself to confess something even more. When the words came they were nearly inaudible. “Even if only in private, my devotion is to you alone. Us, against the world.”

Aemond’s heart was pounding, his cock was twitching and he felt such a surge of love, and desire thrum through his body he was nearly collapsed by it. It must’ve shown on his face because Aegon gave a rare, genuine and full smile, and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

“Cum inside me again, my Prince. I want to feel another heir to the throne take root.” Aegon requested. And once again, Aemond’s control broke, and he was a horny hound needing to breed once more.

He pulled from Aegon only for the time it took to flip him onto his stomach again, and yank his hips up. On instinct Aegon spread his knees wide and presented his hole with a sinful jiggle of his ass. If the stuff used to make him slick wasn’t so bad tasting Aemond would devoured the thing thoroughly and had Aegon spilling again in seconds, but perhaps at a later date after a shared bath.

“Such a teasing whore,” Aemond growls as he presses back inside, giving the soft flesh a harsh smack. “You love it when I make that ass bounce with the force of my cock don’t you? Fuck-yes it’s doing it now. So soft, like bread dough beneath me and you’re sucking me in deep. You must need my seed again so badly don’t you? My soft, sweet brother, by the Gods if I can’t give you another heir I will bloat your middle until it looks like you’re carrying a piece of me within you.”

Aegon moaned loudly and in punishment (and for security) Aemond shoved two of his long fingers down his lover’s throat. Expert at sucking the long cock that was currently battering at his special spot Aegon didn’t even noisily gag, he just closed his pink lips around the digits and began to suck.

*Gods be good*, Aemond thought as he raised his face to the heavens and finished, his cum going straight down into his brother so fast he could imagine a bigger roundness to Aegon’s middle than there already was forming. He moaned in pleasure.

“That’s my good boy…your ass may need more training but your throat already belongs to me… I’m very proud.” Those words had Aegon causing an even bigger mess on the sheets from the pulsing of his muscle around Aemond and the moans muffled around his fingers.

Chuckling, Aemond pulls his fingers out and smacks his behind once again-harder. “Now I think I’m ready to face the day…aren’t you, my dear King?”

Aegon groans. Aemond chuckles again and slips out. Before either can move away Aemond grips the top of Aegon’s thighs and forces him forward more. Aemond’s thumbs dig into the soft skin around around the pink thing and he sighs happily at the sight,

Aegon had yelled a little at the move and now was writhing and wiggling. “Brother! What are you doing?”

“Admiring,” the younger says, without a hint of embarrassment. “You know if I wouldn’t have to slice the neck of anyone but me who saw this…I’d have an artist draw this for me so I could always remember it.

“That’s so perverted!” The older proclaims, but more of Aemond’s cum spills down onto Aegon’s sack as he clenches at the thought.

“Mmm…it might be worth it.” He releases Aegon (who collapses) and then stands from the bed. He kisses Aegon’s sweaty forehead tenderly before gripping his chin lightly and making him look up. “I’d wager you have until the sun shifts at the next hour mark to get back to your own chambers dear brother. Can’t let the servants know you’re in here.”

He smiles and walks to his bathing chambers then. He’d wait until Aegon had left to call for hot bath water. With such a stellar beginning, the day was sure to be oh so lovely.

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 13

[I struggled writing this. Again! I feel like all this science stuff I'm doing again is draining my creativity 🥲]

It had only been one day since Eve’s banishment from Eden, and yet the angels were all already discussing the future of humanity, the garden and Adam himself. Adam was sat beside Michael in the circle of stressed angels, all too engaged in their debate. Adam wasn’t even initially supposed to present in this meeting, but apparently Michael, ever so thoughtful, suggested that the first man be involved in the discussion regarding his possible future. And Adam would appreciate the gesture if only he didn’t have to bear witness and suffer through Heaven’s bureaucracy. It was one of the few things he actually hated when he used to be an angel. The meeting began early in the morning and the afternoon was fast approaching, and yet they still haven’t broached the topic about Adam. 

Damn angels and their obsession with order. Adam could feel his eyes drooping, his head nodding off, the discussion a soothing background noise; boredom and exhaustion weighed heavily on him. Beside him, Michael noticed Adam’s quickly slipping attention. Humans after all, didn’t have the same stamina and durability that angels had.

“Pardon me, I’m sure these are all very important, but can we get to the topic about Adam? It’s why he’s here to begin with,” Michael gestured towards the sleepy human. “We can continue the discussion about the others after this.”

Seeing Adam’s drained figure, the angels all agreed to pause their current discussion for later and put away their current notes, switching them for ones related to the new topic. As usual, Sera was the one to start the dialogue. With a clap of her hands, the attention focused back on her as she began to talk.

“Alright. Following Eve’s banishment from the garden of Eden, we were faced with a problem regarding their propagation. Eve’s new companion, who will be created using a part of her, will be made in the following days.” Sera placed both of her hands on the table as she looked at Adam. “Adam, you are now without a companion. We planned on creating a new companion for you but…” She glanced at Michael. “Michael had suggested we consult you first. He mentioned something about your possibly…troubled state.”

A new partner for him in Eden? Someone untainted by the fruit of knowledge? While the idea of being with someone, who was also safe and away from both Lucifer and Lilith, didn’t seem so bad, it was also someone new. Someone Adam would know nothing about, meaning another unpredictable factor. Who knows, maybe this new person would be similar to Eve or they could also turn out to be like Lilith. Either way, they would be an unknown factor. And after finally securing Eden for himself, he didn’t want to add more potential risks, especially not when he was already in uncharted territory. That and, well, the idea of opening up to someone like that again hadn’t crossed his mind for over many millennia now, and he sure wasn’t going to start again.

Adam adjusted himself on his seat, carefully thinking about the words he would say and the emotions he should express in front of the angels. With downcast eyes he answered, “I…after Eve…I don’t think I could ever be ready to be with someone new again.” Adam let a few tears slide down his cheeks, a little sniffle here and there, maybe some subtle trembling. Really, anything to gain the angels’ sympathy and pity. 

The sight of Adam seemingly in anguish over Eve’s betrayal and absence crushed many of the angels’ hearts. How pitiful. For such a delicate creature to experience such a horrible tragedy. They couldn’t imagine the scars that such events had placed on his little heart. God’s most perfect creation, traumatised under the clutches of Lucifer and Lilith. Sera placed a hand over her own heart, clearly affected by Adam’s act. “Adam, are you certain you don’t wish for a new partner?”

Adam meekly shook his head. “I think I’ve had enough.”

—-

The late afternoon sun’s gradually cooling rays shone over the serenity of the garden, coating everything in its soft orange hue. Adam leaned back against a tree as he watched the other inhabitants of the garden prepare for the incoming darkness. It was a bit odd. To have all of the garden to himself in peaceful silence. He had gotten used to a high pitched voice that used to always eagerly drag him along the garden in search of new things to try out. It was about this time of the day when he would join Eve, along with Amora, to gather tonight’s dinner. Adam felt a heavy nudge on his shoulder, and was greeted with large yellow eyes when he turned. 

“Guess it’s just you and me now, huh?,” muttered Adam as he allowed the big cat to lay its head on his lap. “What? Are you trying to comfort me?,” he chuckled. His fingers lazily petted the jaguar’s soft fur, the warmth a welcome presence in Eden’s gradually cooling air. 

Now what? Adam had achieved what he wanted, and of course he was happy that could stay in Eden away from both Lilith and Lucifer, he was also happy not to have to suffer a harsh life outside the garden. But he also couldn’t help but be a little anxious about the future. This was where things would start to really change, and while he was confident in himself, he could still only hope that this future he had carved for himself would be better than the one he had previously.

A familiar flapping of three pairs of wings interrupted Adam’s musings. He knew the owner of those wings. Only he would visit the first man in the garden at such a time. Adam turned to face the angel; a knowing look and a silent nod for a greeting. It seemed suitable enough for the late afternoon’s current undertone. 

Michael found himself a spot beside the first man, close but not too close. The two sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the sinking sun as it tinted everything in orange, before the angel uttered a word. “About your decision earlier… Are you certain with what you’ve decided?”

Adam kept his gaze on the horizon, his figure drowning in the sinking rays as it painted him all over like melting gold in a hot furnace. “I’m certain,” he uttered. 

It was one of the few things he was certain of in his newly carved future. He had lived for 10,000 years, and not once did he ever need it. There were some similar things, like his relationship with his exorcists. Each and every one of his girls were dear to him, even that traitorous Vaggie used to have a spot in his heart. Then there was Lute, who he had doted on the most. And while all of those ties were real in their own right, none of them were ever introduced to the cavernous depths of his soul. After living for so long, he realised he didn’t need it, or maybe it simply just wasn’t meant for him. That was fine for him, it was less messy that way, and he intended to keep things neat in this life too.

“But won’t you feel lonely?,” Michael asked. “Being the only one… of your kind I mean.”

Though the words were directed at Adam, Michael’s wistful gaze divulged another story. Even ever since his body was formed from stardust and golden ichor first flowed throughout his body, Michael always hadn’t been the most sociable angel. He got along fine with the rest, but there was always a disconnect. Lucifer’s fall seemed to have resulted in only widening that gap, with others seemingly keeping their distance on purpose after knowing what he was capable of. He supposed that was to be expected, he was, after all, the only angel in Heaven who had the blood of his own kin in his hands. True, he had no choice in the matter, it couldn’t be helped, but the others also couldn’t help what they felt.

Adam mulled over Michael’s words. He wasn’t sure if he would call it loneliness, but being the only person in the garden did make him feel isolated at times. Though he supposed it wasn’t really that bad. He looked back down at Amora who was snuggling on his lap, a content look on her furry face. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the warmth from her large body that she happily shared with him. Adam may be very different from the rest of Eden’s inhabitants, but he felt very welcomed and at home all the same. 

“It’s not so bad,” Adam answered, a faint smile on his lips as he brushed Amora’s fur. “I’ve got the animals with me. They never let me feel lonely. And then there’s also you.”

“And that’s enough for you?”

“I’m just happy to have a home.” Adam would want for more. He had always yearned for more, to learn and experience more new things. It was why he invented so many things. From useless decorative items to important life saving techniques. In fact, one of the reasons he proposed the exterminations, besides wanting to fuck with Lucifer and Lilith, was to escape the monotony of Heaven. The exterminations allowed him to experience new things; sinners with their grotesque forms, hellish food that could kill you in a variety of ways, a chaotic society that easily shifted day by day. It was fun, plain and simple, but it was also a wandering kind of fun. If fun new things meant he would lose paradise, his home, then he would rather not take it. Dying and waking back up in Eden made him realise how he lived like a wanderer in his previous life. Moving from place to place in search of something different, but never truly having a permanent place for himself. He would have to learn to hold back some of his inclinations and unnecessary wants this time, now that he got a hold of his home back. Having a place to belong far outweighed ‘the fun stuff’. Besides, Eden was fun in its own right. It had all kinds of animals that would happily play with him despite being deadly if they were outside the garden, the garden itself was big enough to contain various landscapes from rainforests to open deserts, and most importantly, it didn’t have other people who would ruin his day, at least not anymore anyway.

There was this inexplicable look in Adam’s eyes when he answered Michael’s question. Like a wistful longing; something akin to nostalgia, like he was holding something dear that he had only found again. Just at this moment, with the sinking sun reflecting on his already golden eyes, Michael saw in Adam, just an inkling, what seemed to be an eternity of life and experience. It was surreal, it was as if there was a whole other world within the human unbeknownst to anyone but the man himself, though he knew it couldn’t be possible. So instead, he turned his gaze back to the slowly fading sun. 

What was home?

The archangel, of course, had Heaven, the place he first woke up in, the place he had spent the most time in, and the place he always returned to. Though with the recent events, that place had become a little less comforting, a little more alienating. It was still the same but also different. It was like Lucifer had never fallen, but the void of his absence permeated the atmosphere. Heaven had become uncomfortable. But Eden remained a simple comfort. Michael wrapped his wings around himself. The garden was still here and so were the animals. Then there was also Adam. Maybe that was also enough for him.

Part 12

Part 14

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR 🥳🥳🥳

Anyways can I request a whitebeard pirates x female child reader? (This is basically were ace and whitebeard survived)

Basically the reader used to a slave for Blackbeard because she has a powerful devil fruit called the ink ink fruit

The ink ink fruit basically let's the user control and manipulate ink into wepons, shields, and sometimes people or other creatures (like the creatures from BATIM)

Anyways so like the reader feels nothing because of years of mental and emotional torture from Blackbeard :(

And she also has a big scar from Blackbeard over her eye making her a little blind but not fully

How would they react to her? Like how they met her, how they saved her and her life in the whitebeard family?

Can you also maybe based the reader of this?

Anyways HAPPY NEW YEAR AGAIN WHOOOOOOO

Sorry if this was a bit complicated bc I'm a bit tipsy hehe

-It was only chance that you had been seen after Blackbeard and his crew tried to kill Whitebeard, without success as Whitebeard blew them all back.

-Ace and Whitebeard were both lucky to walk away from that battle with their lives, they both had new scars to show off, but they were both alive.

-Marco had seen a child on Blackbeard’s ship, tendrils of something black swirling around you as you had broken a window, crawling out of it, like you were trying to escape.

-He easily swooped down, using his talons in his phoenix form to grab you, much to your shock and he picked you up.

-You cried out in fear, looking up and your one good eye went wide, seeing the flaming bird above you, before you heard Blackbeard, “Give me back Y/N!”

-Marco felt your flinch of fear, looking down to see you trembling in fear and he knew he wasn’t going to leave you with Blackbeard.

-Once on the ship, Marco took you to his room, carrying you so carefully, so gently, he could see the tears slipping out of your eyes as he smiled softly, “Nobody is going to hurt you again, Y/N.” you had never known such gentleness before, it was strange and kind of scary.

-Marco took you to his room, which was warm feeling and he put you on his bed, kneeling before you, “I need to go help the others. Will you stay here for a while, and I’ll come get you once we’re safely away from the area? You can sleep here if you want to.” You were hesitant in answering, a bit unsure of him before you mutely nodded.

-He ruffled your hair gently before leaving you in his room, closing the door behind him and you tipped over, feeling the softness of the bed you were on. It felt so nice. You couldn’t help but curl up and fall asleep.

-Hours later, after all wounds had been dealt with and everyone was safely away, making it to one of Whitebeard’s islands, they were all quickly celebrating, drinking and eating.

-Marco returned down to you, finding you up, looking up at the bounty posters he had on his wall, “You’re up- how do you feel Y/N?” you didn’t know how to answer, something he was able to tell before he picked you up, holding you up on his hip, “Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll get you something to eat.”

-He called some of the nurses who were quick to rush to him, seeing the child he was holding, cooing over you like you were adorable while you didn’t react, looking back at Marco, who you knew was a safe person.

-Marco just smiled softly, “They’re gonna help you get cleaned up, I would but…” the nurses explained while giving you a bath that men, unless they were your father or something, shouldn’t give you a bath, and once you were clean they found a clean dress for you, but no shoes, and brushed your hair out.

-They checked your wounds over, finding bruises that signified shackles, not only around your wrists and ankles, but around your neck as well, as well as new and old bruises, whip marks, and what looked to be knife cuts in your back.

-Your eye that was heavily scarred was useless, you couldn’t see out of it. The thing that worried them was that you seemed numb, telling them that you had been tortured and abused for who knows how long. Long enough to abandon your emotions to keep yourself safe, but they couldn’t tell exactly how long.

-They told Marco everything and you could tell he was angry, hearing about what you, a child, had gone through, but he picked you back up, holding you close as they all headed back upstairs where the party was.

-Needless to say, seeing Marco walking out with a child in his arms was not what they were expecting, eyes wide as the party froze, everyone blinking in unison.

-Marco headed over, all eyes and heads following him, to Whitebeard, who was also surprised. You had never met someone so big before, but like those in Blackbeard’s crew, you didn’t feel afraid of him, you didn’t feel afraid of any of the people you were now surrounded by.

-Whitebeard reached down, taking you from Marco, pulling you up so you were sitting on his lap, “And who are you?” you looked up and answered in a soft, but emotionless, “Y/N.”

-Whitebeard had lived a long life, and he knew a hurt child when he saw one, but he kept his mouth shut about that at the moment before Marco spoke up, telling everyone how he found you on Blackbeard ship, escaping out of a broken window.

-Many saw the bruises on your wrists and ankles, from shackles, and many grew angry- fully ready to hunt Blackbeard down again, not only for what he tried to do, but for what he did to you.

-You didn’t seem to have any emotions, even when Ace brought you a mug of juice and some cake to eat, like other kids who would be all smiles and cheering. You just sat there and ate quietly, worrying the others on how you were acting.

-Marco then spoke, trying to get you to interact a bit more, “Y/N- what was that black thing that was helping you get out the window?”

-You lifted your hand which turned black, almost like ink, and it morphed into different shapes, “Ink-Ink Fruit- it helped me. He always made me do bad things with it.”

-Eyes narrowed, which made you flinch back, your ink returning inside you, thinking they were mad with you, but Ace was quick to hug you close, to reassure you, “We’re not mad at you, Y/N. We’re pissed at Blackbeard- I can’t believe he would treat a child like this! How long have you been with that bastard?”

-WHACK!! Marco was quick to punch the top of Ace’s head, sending him to the ground while pulling you up into his arms, “Language!” which caused laughter all around the deck of the ship while you were confused.

-You looked at your fingers before holding up four fingers, “This many years I think.” Looking at your size, they estimated you to only be about 8 or 9, since you had been malnourished, meaning you had spent over half your life, almost, in Blackbeard’s clutches.

-Whitebeard stood, a foreboding aura surrounding him, “Teach- he’s going to pay for this!” a roar of cheers rung out around him as everyone agreed. You were confused, looking up at him, wondering why they were all so upset and willing to help you.

-Over the next few weeks, the crew, who had adopted you, everyone except for Whitebeard becoming your big brothers, as Whitebeard became your papa, had been treating you so nicely, helping you heal, trying to teach you how to be a normal kid, since your childhood had been snatched away from you.

-They had a chance to see your abilities in action, you could control the ink to create full bodies, creatures that looked like devils, but cute, like something a child would draw, as well as weapons, shields, and the tendrils which were like arms to help you in various situations.

-You had expert control over your ability, as you had eaten your Devil Fruit when you were very young, but also ‘thanks’ to Blackbeard, who would beat you or let one of the others beat you if you did something wrong, you had learned quickly how to control it, to avoid beatings, which still sometimes came, just to keep you in line.

-It was strange for you, being on the Moby Dick, you never knew hunger since coming aboard, everyone aways made sure that you ate your three meals and would always give you snacks, which sometimes would cause fights, as your appetite would be ruined for an actual proper meal.

-You had your own room, between Marco and Ace, with a soft, warm bed, all for you, you had clean clothes and you got to bathe on a regular basis. It was almost like paradise for you.

-You never hurt again, other than the few shots you had to get, to help boost your immune system, but those only hurt for a bit. It was strange to walk around with no pain, as not a day had gone by without you being in pain and to have that now gone… it was weird.

-You had been gently forced into participating with your big brothers, sitting with them at mealtimes, joining them on the deck to watch others train or to enjoy a party, and they would include you on their, child friendly, conversations, asking you your opinions on things like your favorite cake flavors.

-Whitebeard knew this was going to be a process, one that was going to take a lot of time and patience, but he could see that you were trying, at least a little bit, seeking out certain members of the crew, like Marco and Ace, whom you felt the closest with, and you weren’t as hesitant to answer questions as you had been.

-Whitebeard smiled when he saw you peeking out the doorway leading to the deck, looking around before you spotted him. He smiled warmly at you as you trotted over, your face as neutral as normal, but he noticed your eye did look just a bit brighter.

-He grinned, setting his mug down as you peered up at him, “Hello Y/N- what brings you out here today?” you lifted your arms up, silently asking him to pick you up and he grinned, reaching down with one hand and picked you up with ease, setting you on his knee, “Will you tell me more about Rock?”

-Whitebeard grinned, as he had been telling you stories about his past, when he was in the Rock Pirates, and to see you asking him for more, it was a sign of improvement, seeing you asking for something, rather than taking what was given to you, something they had been working on.

-Whitebeard paused, seeing you look back towards the door where he saw Vista, Marco, Izo, and Ace all giving you a thumbs up, as they had encouraged you to go ask the old man for a story.

-He chuckled warmly, seeing the truth, but he didn’t mind, as you were taking it step by step, as he told you of a raid that he and Kaido took part in, working together, after they had snuck off after Rocks told them not to.

-You gazed up at him, listening to his tale, and he remained silent, seeing the small smile on your lips, seeing you finally smiling for him.

[small-sinclair]

Heyy! Uhm so this is my first ever request but could you maybe do:

The sinclairs, jason voorhees, michael myers, brahms heelshire

Being needy for their gn! S/O and begging for S/O to touch them?

Not forcing or anything you don't have to!

Thank you!!!

Sfw :3

Slashers: The Sinclairs, Michael Myers (young), Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Thomas Hewitt

I haven’t written for Michael, Jason or Thomas before.

Slashers who are touched starved.

Bo

Bo wanted to collapse in your arms as soon as he came home late tonight. He took off his boots and hung his hat before crawling upstairs. He snuck into your shared room, smiling when he saw how soft and comfortable you were sleeping. He threw his shirt in the corner and put on his sleeping pants silently.

He was gentle to lay next to you, curling into your back, and laid in your hair. He gave a sleep kiss before taking a hold of you and placing on his chest.

“Bo?” You murmur sleepily as you buried your face in his neck. “What time is it?”

“2:30am,” he drawled heavily, running his hands up and down your back and sides. “Missed ya, sweetness.”

You say something, but he’s too tired to hear. He’s just happy to have you in his arms.

Vincent

His rough hands rest on your hips as he lays his head in the crook of your neck. Working with wax in a hot basement with no look of relief, he’s happy he gets to touch you and love you. He always loved the smell of you and how soft your skin is.

“You okay, lovely?” You asked, your hands running through his hair. “Long morning?”

He whimpers and nods as he hugs tighter, nuzzling into neck.

“Okay, hun,” you whispered, smiling as you said his name,” “Vincent, I’ll be here.”

Lester

After a long day of driving, roadkill, and running visitors to Ambrose, Lester just wants you. He buried his face into your hair and cling onto you. He hugs and rests on your side as you two watch tv, his eyes closed as you run your fingers through his hair. He curls into you and sighs in contempt.

“Long day?” You hummed, and he nods, mumbling something. He buried his face into your shirt.

There’s nowhere else he wanted to be but holding you close.

Michael Myers

He doesn’t understand why he lets his guard down around you. Why he’s less tense and more calmer. He doesn’t understand how you can do it, and it scars him. Him being scared… that doesn’t sit well with him.

But when he took off his mask and let you cup his cheeks, he melts. He falls right into your hands and holds them there. Cursed or damned, he feels free with your touch, and he smiles for the first time since he was a kid.

He moves closer until he has you in his chest, large hands over your head. He closed his eyes and felt human. Felt like the man his mother always wanted and never feared.

Just stay in his arms for a while, y/n. Let him rest in you touch this autumn night.

Jason Voorhees

He’s not one for touches or closeness. Underneath his mask is a hell scape or scars and wounds, and it gotten to the point where he can’t stand to see himself in the mirror. However, when you came to visit at the breach durning the night at the camp, waving at him from shore, he just knew he had to feel your hand in his.

And that wish came true after a few years later and a couple walks on the beach. He finds his hand in yours and your head on his shoulder, talking about tomorrow’s camp actives with archery and trying out the new rock wall. His hands are bigger than yours, but he holds your hand none the less.

One day, he’ll hug you. One day he’ll hold you. For now, simple steps. Simple steps.

Brahms Heelshire

There isn’t a time of day when he’s not by your side. His hand on your hip, head on your chest, touching your shoulders, having you sit on his lap— he needs you all day every day.

At night during the winter, that’s when snuggles come in. He has you curled into his chest as he rubs your back. He looks up at the ceiling then out the window at the snow. He smiles to himself as he glances down at you. He holds you close and drifts to sleep. He’ll never have to face cold nights alone. He’ll never know it again because you’re here.

Thomas Hewitt

His rough hands finds your waist as he buried his face into your neck. Before you can say anything, he spins you around and lift you up. He holds you in the air as if you weigh nothing to him. His upper hand rakes through your hair as he has you rest on his shoulder.

He melts when you hold his face and smile down at him. “Hi,” you whisper, giggling slightly.

He smiles under his mask and leans against you hands, humming to himself. He takes in your scent and relaxes. He didn’t know how much he need to be near you until your smile made his heart flutter and stop.

Do it again and again, over and over, until he thinks about nothing but you.

[iloveundertaesooomuch]

!!THIS IS NOT CALEB!!

This is my version of the FTF Grimwalker that got possessed by Belos and then was resurected on GrimIsles!

His name is Cheese! ...Bear with me here-

His grimwalker siblings let him to choose his own name, because they didn't want to force something so important onto him. Especially when this "newcomer" was lucky enough to not be named by Belos. So the freedom of choice felt pretty important to consider for his ability to built his own identity and carve his own destiny.

But.. Cheese was litteraly "born yesterday" and he didnt understand the language yet. At all. So, of course, when he started to learn some words, he chose to identify himself with something he really really likes. And.. this thing he related to happened to be a block of yellow dairy product with holes in it and a funny taste. He is too much of a cheese lover.

Later on he often "changed his name" from Cheese to Onion to Gerald to Boot to Nike... Uhhh..., it was difficult to say the least. But the name Cheese stuck with others, so now it is how he is called. Although many end up pronouncing it as "Chez", which is valid too.

As you can see on my art, Cheese doesn't have his legs rotting like the body in the s3 ep2. Thats because it was part of his "mortal wound". In otherwords, Chez wouldn't be able to live with parts damaged like that. Usually all that left after the person's "mortal wound" after the resurection in the temple is a small light scar. But, even if Cheese got his body fully in tact now, the bottom part of his body nonetheless seems to be paralised. Thats why he requires a wheelchair to move around the Isles. (I wont deny the possibility of him getting a jetpack or something like that so he could move thought the air on his "loyal carriage". Imagine that vine video but with Cheese. He would be very enthusiastic about creating and building shit like that.) Chez also happens to be mute due to his damaged throat and vocal chords also from Belos'es possession. Thats why he has that little oracle stone on his hair-clip that helps him speak his thoughts out loud! He wasn't always able to use it, so he was also taught how to use sign language. His siblings were glad to learn it along with Cheese so they could finally chat.

I was initially imagining Cheese to be enthusiastic about sports. Especially since the grimwalker body in FTF looked quite buff weirdly enough XD. But he slowly grows to be much more than "CHEESE IS SPEED". Perharps our discovery of him as a character reflects his own journey of getting to know himself. Chez came to be as a blank slate. I guess he is technocally the happiest grimwalker in this AU, since he never experience any kind of abuse and has a loving family that treats him with respect even if he doesn't understand everything yet.

It was my first time drawing a wheelchair I think. So I really heavily referenced just to get its structure right. Maybe when I draw Chez again I will decorate it to his liking. He would probably enjoy some stickers on it. Especially of space and ships. Or Cheese could have a Starwars (or however that franchise is called in TOH universe) merch on it! He likes spaces, because it is full of infinite possibilities.

Thank you, @crypticpara and @talisman975 for inspiration!

[yaut-jaknowit]

New Feelings

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader(Platonic)

Word Count: 3057

Summary: During this time, We'ar-ow takes a momentary step back from ruling to care for you. Just in the confinements of her private room though. You come to realize how different she acts in front of company.

Author Note: Had a bit of a mix-up on the masterlist but it's resolved now! I've also got the next chapter finished about to finish the one after that so I'm getting back to writing book. Not beta read. If there is something confusing or stupid, let me know and I'll fix it.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

In We’ar-ow’s throne room, many Yautjas have come to report to their leader. It was a short line at first when she had originally dragged you from the safety of her room early this morning. A regular amount of people, you had thought at first. It doesn’t just take one person to lead a clan like this. But more later filled the throne room that it finally hit the door.

It’s not like you paid a great amount of attention to them. Just enough to see each of their faces and file them away for a later date. All for sake of one of them being your stalker. Whoever hunted you through the halls of this very ship could possibly be in this room with you. Would they slay you before the Monarch? And what would their thought process be? Cleaning the ship of scum? Disturbing We’ar-ow?

That had you rolling your eyes, head bowed to hide away your emotions. We’ar-ow did not care that much about you to have your death disturb her. Just a fucking pet. Your senses still completely open for an attack. Anyone of them could slip out of line and slaughter you without remorse. These are hunters. Born, bred, built to maim anything in their way. A shiver ran its course through your body.

The tablet in hand was momentarily discarded mentally. The thoughts of decapitation or dismembering filled your head. None of them would blink an eye about it. Just your blood staining the like-carpet material blanketing the stairs and floor. Or the cushion gifted to you. All would be brushed off. Their day would continue like normal. You sighed heavily through your nose and tilted your head back to stare at the strangely decorated ceiling.

A mural of sorts had been painted over the expanse of the ceiling. Only spots of flush lights broke the illusion of how intricate. You shook your head and focused back on the line.

Someone bypassed the entire line and marched up the stairs that lead to We’ar-ow’s throne. Your back tensed at the sight, on the verge of snapping in half. This Yautja, male by his shorter stature, ignored you and stopped before her seat. A nearly playful look twinkled in his sea green-blue eyes. He gave a polite bow to his leader then begun to discuss with her, short, sweet.

“May I?” he questioned and motioned over to you. Your heart dropped to the floor. Instantly, you rapidly shook your head to deter him or her from getting close to you.

We’ar-ow nodded her massive head and returned her attention back to the figure before her. Your jaw dropped at her abandonment. A week ago you had almost died! Maybe, possibly. You didn’t know if death was going to happen that day but it made it all the scary of not knowing.

The new figure smiled with his alien mandibles and spun on his heel to face your sitting form. Terror ran cold in your blood at his first step. The next had you trembling. He knelt down a step just before yours. He wasn’t a young Yautja anymore. The lines and many scars the decorated his skin were an indication. What caught your eye like shining gold was his right arm. The elbow and below was gone, poof. Just a nub and gnarly scars. A well decorated hunter who’s earned his title by the looks of it.

You swallowed thickly but stayed seat on the cushion. Somehow. The Yautja huffed, the lightest of smirks playing his face. He reached out with his only hand and plucked the tablet from your grasp. “Whatcha got here?” he questioned and began to scroll through the page you were on. An article about Yautja Prime, their home planet.

He snickered and gave a look that ‘really?’. The device was tossed back into your lap but your attention was solely on the potentially dangerous figure before you. But… We’ar-ow seemed at ease around him and allowed him to approach you. Something you hadn’t expected after that night and the following days.

“If ya wanna know about home world, you could get it from the source,” he spoke in a voice that gave you smoker vibes. It almost drowned out the translator tucked underneath your skin, behind your ear. Automatically, you glanced over at We’ar-ow hard at work. A light tap to your knee had you snapping back to him. “Not her, ooman. Me!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Him? You just met him. Not even completely! He hadn’t told you his name. He saw the puzzle look on your features and snorted. “Monarch may say she could care less if I dropped off into the space port but she cares, doesn’t she?” What was his point? His angle? What did he want? And why was he being so friendly to you? Did he get knocked up side the head far too many times?

Plus, why did his last two words sound like there was an underlying tone in his voice. “I don’t, don’t even know your name,” you stuttered and gave him a look as if he was crazed. Curse the stutter!

“Oh, right. Thought she would’ve said a thing or two about me. Hurts the heart a little.” You just kept staring at him, puzzled on this whole attitude. He was completely different from any Yautja you’ve met before. Even if the list is fairly short. They’ve never acted so… carefree. Was this the crazy old man of the ship?

“Call me Xilo, short for Xilomere,” he finally introduced. Still tensed painfully, you stiffy nodded your head and murmur a ‘okay’, hoping it was enough to get him to leave. It wasn’t. “And you’re the Monarch’s pet. An ooman who’s been talk of the town for the last half solar cycle! You don’t realize the uproar you caused when the newly blooded brought you here. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t have survived to see the next day.”

He said it so causally. You could’ve died when Dwainet brought you here… death. This was all a horrible mistake with consequences hard to live with.

We’ar-ow stopped them from killing you. She allowed you to stay. Why?! Your eyes drifted back over to the hard-working Yautja ensuring her ship and community don’t collapse on itself. Did… did she want you back then?

A hunter at their core must be patient.

That what it is to be a hunter. What did this all mean?! You gnawed on your bottom lip when the green Yautja before you patted your knee. “She didn’t tell you? Whoops.” Then, he leaned in close to whisper something of importance. “Don’t tell her I told you. Act natural.” All you could do was blink dumbly at him.

‘Act natural’? ‘Act natural’?! He was just as irritating at We’ar-ow with their up front, uncaring, idiotic words! How could you just go one knowing that if it wasn’t for her you would be dead!? Or the fact she might have been wanting you for her own pet this entire time?! Just waiting like the hunter was born to be for the right moment to snatch you up.

All of this was a mistake. You wanted to breakdown all over again. The wounds still fresh enough to ache in your poor heart.

Xilo pulled back with that same cocky smirk. “If you ever need to chat, dear ooman. My contact has been inputted into your toy. Now, I should dip before I spill more than I should about our lovely Monarch.” He pushed back up into a standing position, knees popping with the action. He gave you a two-finger salute, spun on his heel, and left through the way he came.

On his only hand, he was missing his entire pinky and the tip of his ring finger. Something you realized after he already left. You grumbled underneath your breath for a few minutes after the interaction and messed around on your tablet. He didn’t need to announce to the whole throne room what you were doing on the tablet. Yes, you were gathering information about their planet. It’s not like you freely look for ways to escape the mothership right in front of her. You were on the steps, before her throne though to the side. One turn of her head could expose your whole plan.

To be honest, you’ve thought about this. She has to have some knowledge of you wanting to escape. But if she’s not worried… that means she is confidence there isn’t way to escape. But there is. At least to get off of here. Away from being her damn pet.

The like-leather encasing your throat is a feeling you’ve started to grow accustomed to. At nights, We’ar-ow allows you to take it off. Thankfully. But in the morning, it’s back on; with complaints almost every time. It’s a loosing battle at this point. The only way to gain back what you’ve lost is to escape. Away, far from this place.

So, you learned, research what you could about Yautjas. From their planet to the motherships they use to roam the universe to the different subspecies to hunting styles. Everything. To know your enemy is the way to defeat your enemy. To outsmart them, her. It’s the only way to escape.

But is that what you want?

.

Once the day ended, in the middle of the afternoon, the two of you retired back to her quarters. The safety away from prying eyes and possibly danger. Though, to be frank, this was the lions den you not only eat and bathe in, but also sleep and relax in. You ran your fingers through your hair after the door seal shut, leaving you alone with We’ar-ow.

Said salmon pink Yautja strolled across the living room and into her room. Door left open. That struck you. The door always shuts after her. Why leave it open?

Curiosity may have killed the cat… and now you.

You tiptoed across the length of the main room and peered around the entrance of her door. You’ve been in here before. With her permission. She’s never left the door open before though. You didn’t dare take another step into the bedroom.

For a moment, you couldn’t find her until a light flicked on and caught your eye. We’ar-ow’s back was to you as she stood in the doorway of another room to the right wall. The new light shone on what looked to be clothing. She has a walk in closet, what else did you expect from her?

Then, the Yautja began to strip. You felt your eyes bulge out from your head at the sight, but unable to peel your sight away. Its not like you hadn’t seen Dwainet naked before… plenty of times, plenty. He had bulk similar to We’ar-ow but she has honed in to be able to be agile and lethal. Move faster than you could process sometimes.

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes partially glazed over. Her muscles weren’t well defined as some you’ve seen. That didn’t mean thickly corded muscles didn’t lie underneath her thick, pink skin. No wonder many Yautjas looked at not just respect/fear of her being Monarch but for her beauty as well.

Her thumbs shimmied under her waistband and began to push down. This is where you slam your back against the wall outside of the room and slapped a hand over your mouth.

Boiling heat flushed to your cheeks, eyes clenched shut. Why had you done that?! That… that-

“You are missing the show,” We’ar-ow’s voice funneled out into the main room where you were. Your knees nearly gave out right then. She knew. Oh my god. She fucking knew! “Come on out, pet.” She used a honeyed voice as an attempt to coax you out from hiding. She already knew that you were right there.

With whatever courage you still had after all this time, you stepped back into the doorway with your head bowed. She would have to rip your head off to make you look at her.

Pink feet entered your vision. A knuckle tried to tilt your head up at first before you felt her lean down, mouth close to your ear now. “Did my pet enjoy the show?” she whispered softly into your ear. Your spine locked up, chest heaving with unsteady breaths. “Calm, little one. I asked a question.”

Anger flashed to life in your veins was quickly stomped out from the embarrassment. She wanted you to speak! Why does she keep doing that? You felt on the verge of crying. “S-sorry,” you sputtered then pressed your lips tightly against each other. Her knuckle was still firm against your chin, not relenting. But neither were you.

We’ar-ow softly huffed and corralled you to the nearest wall. Her free hand wrapped around your neck and locked you against said wall. “That is not the answer I was looking for, pet.” You best believe she could hear how wild your heart was pounding in your chest. On the verge of jumping out into her hands.

From past experiences, you knew she wasn’t going to stop until she got your answer. Lying was off the table too. Yautjas have a keen sense of smell. They know. You swallowed the lump down, feeling her hand twitch slightly around your throat. “Yes,” you murmured just above a breath. She was able to tilt your head up and you met her eyes.

Far from anger. We’ar-ow looked down at you with an alien smirk gracing her face. Your heart stuttered, but not from fear. She wasn’t furious, not at all. It’s like… oh my god, she wanted you to look, to watch even. It was all a setup. Your face soured. You had nowhere to go though. We’ar-ow had you trapped to the wall.

“Smart ooman.” She read you like an open book. You scowled at her. “I am glad that enjoyed what I offered. I will know what to do for next time.” Then, her body heat left you as she pulled away. “Go eat. There are some berries in the cooling containment for you.” Sometimes the translator wasn’t the most accurate about words.

Blindly listening to her, you unsteadily stumbled your way into the kitchen-like room. In the refrigerator, you pulled out the bowl and berries then added a couple of fruits to it as well. You were still dazed while sitting down on the one-seater in the living room.

A berry was tossed into your mouth. The taste bursting over your tastebuds. They were delicious, not something you expected from a species that looked like they had a stick always stuck up their ass. You scoffed and curled up more on the couch. Your legs tucked underneath your body with the bowl placed in your lap.

As you sat peacefully on the couch, you couldn’t help but remember what We’ar-ow had said earlier. Something on the lines of knowing what to do for next time. Next time? Why would there be a next time?! She… fuck, you couldn’t deny the fact you were watching her, curious on what lied below her clothing. Though, there wasn’t much fabric she used to cover herself. None of the Yautjas did. Nudity wasn’t frowned upon like it is for your species.

Your brows furrowed the more you thought about it. They way you watched… and she wanted you to. She set you up and you enjoyed it!

All thoughts came to a halt… Enjoyed? Did you enjoy it? You didn’t dare answer that. You frowned and shifted once more to have your legs over the arm rest, back to the other side. Another few berries were tossed into your mouth, mindlessly munching on them.

What is wrong with you? You sighed and curled more in yourself. This was all wrong. After Dwainet, you sworn to never feel a thing for any of these monsters. That’s what they are. Dwainet took you from your home, away from everything you knew and promised you love that he clearly lost for you. Now, look where it got you. In the worst place possible. Escape was hard enough but if she was interested in you… that was a whole either situation you had to worry about. At a later date. Today, you had to survive the stalker.

Warm arms scooped you up from the couch. You yelped and scrambled to right yourself but the limbs tensed and kept you firmly in place. When a familiar pink flashed in your vision you stilled, eyes wide and glancing up at the Yautja holding you. “What are you doing?” you questioned, voice faltering.

We’ar-ow held you close to her, against her bare chest, turned around, then stole your spot. A grumpy look fell over your features as you were ready to flail around to escape. The Yautja chuckled and patted your cheek. “You look cute when you are pouting,” she teased and plucked a piece fruit from your bowl. There was nothing you could do to fight her.

Stiffly, you hesitantly relaxed into her lap once realizing there wasn’t a chance to wiggle free. She let a slackened arm fall over your lap. You tensed but returned to your former position, half-mindlessly munching at the berries she snacked on as well. The Yautja didn’t say anything else and seemed to enjoy your company.

Despite the will to fight her, to fight this; after the last week living in the terror of being hunted down by a Yautja has worn you down. She was there. She willingly protected you. She carried you to her room, set you down in her bed, and locked you in her room. For your protection. She cares. To what extent is a great question you would love to answer.

For the time being, you would enjoy her warm body and food she provided. Though, it came with an unfortunate title: pet. Your lips pressed against each other at the reminder. There was always a trade off and maybe it had to come with that title to live a life worriless.

You’ve yet to come to terms with that though. The pain still far too fresh to think of lying and rolling over for her. Or anyone for that matter.

Special tag: @michellefoster12

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

[vodika-vibes]

This is my first ever ask, so I apologize if I got something wrong. 🫣

Ruby with Wrecker in the summer, please! Maybe something sweet🍓, but steamy🔥. He deserves everything!

Thank you, thank you!

Just Like This

Summary: Wrecker is a man in love. And he’ll do everything in his power to make sure his stunning little firefly knows it.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 655

Prompt: Ruby - Passionate Love

Warnings: Wrecker gets handsy, but there's no detail

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hi there! This ask was just fine, it gave all of the information that I needed! Thank you for the request! I hope this is close to what you wanted.

“Ya know,” Wrecker says lazily as he stretches out next to her on the blanket she spread out on the beach hours earlier, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so relaxed in my life.”

She laughs, a warm sound that never fails to bring a smile to his lips, “Well, I freely admit that I’ve been rather spoiled in my life.” She sits up so she’s able to look him in the face, “I’m more than happy to share with you.”

Wrecker chuckles and takes a moment to drag his gaze down her bikini clad body, “Well then, I’m a lucky man.” He should feel bad that he’s relaxing here in the lap of luxury while his brothers are on Pabu being responsible…right?

His gaze drags down his firefly’s body one more time, lingering on the way her hips look while being hugged by the tight spandex of her swimsuit.

He’ll feel guilty later.

“See something you like?” Her voice is warm and teasing.

“You look amazing dressed like that. You should wear it more often.”

She laughs again, “I think you might be biased.”

“Hm…maybe.” Wrecker reaches out and lightly hooks his arm around her waist, “Come here, Firefly.”

She squeaks and then laughs as he tugs her so she’s sprawled across his chest, his hands settling low on her hips. She folds her arms on his chest and beams down at him, “You know, you’re not going to get any sun like this. I’m afraid I make a better door than a window.”

“Prettiest door I’ve ever seen.” Wrecker replies with a wide grin as he lazily caresses her hips, “Have I ever told you how much I love your hips.”

“You have mentioned it a time or two,” She replies with a laugh, “And even if you haven’t, I think I’d be able to tell anyway.”

He squeezes her hips just enough to pull a squeak from her lips, before he loosens his grip, “Can’t help it. I love them.”

“Aww, just my hips?”

Wrecker chuckles, “Fishing for compliments, pretty girl?”

She juts her lower lip out in a dramatic pout.

Slowly Wrecker drags a single hand up her body to cup her face, his thumb dragging across her lips, “Your hips are pretty,” He says quietly, “But I love every inch of you. From your hair,” He lightly brushes a strand of her heavily dyed hair out of her face, “all the way down to your toes.” His arms aren’t quite long enough to reach her feet, so he nudges the bottom of her foot with one of his own.

Her fake pout fades into a small smile, and she unfolds her arms to lightly press a hand against his cheek, her impossibly soft fingers lingering against the scar on the side of his face.

“Would you like me to compliment your personality too?” Wrecker teases, “Cause there aren’t many women who would take one look at someone like me and decide ‘that’s the one I want’.” 

She pauses and presses a light kiss to his fingers, “Would you be insulted if I said good?”

“Aww, is my pretty firefly jealous?”

“No!” Her face heats, “I just don’t like to share. It’s a personal failing of mine.”

“Mm, there’s that spoiled thing coming out to play again,” Wrecker teases, before he tugs her down into a heated kiss, “I don’t mind. I think it’s hot as hell that you’re so possessive of me.”

“I am not possessive!” She sputters, and then she yelps as he flips the pair of them so she’s sprawled on the blanket under him.

“It’s alright that you are.” Wrecker leans in and kisses her three times in quick succession, “I am too.” He adds as he allows his hands to wander.

And, well, it’s a very good thing that his firefly is rich enough to have her own private beach, because Wrecker has no shame whatsoever.

[lottiecrabie]

the last time – matty healy

five months after your break up, you fall into bed with Matty again. but it’s the last time, for real.

warnings: 18+, oral (f receiving), protected sex, bit of praise, angst

4761 words

You’ve been broken up for five months when you fall into bed with Matty again. You feel a little guilty at the fact, guts knitting together as he passes your shirt above your head, untangling it from your hair. You laugh as you tuck the rebel strands away from your face, shy and awkward like you never used to be with him. 

You want to be impossibly sexy and attractive— don’t want to go through the mortal ordeals of catching into the neck of your shirt or having scattered hair on your legs. You want to melt his mind out of skills, want to catch the drip from his ears with a coy smile. 

Last time you fucked, you didn’t know that it was. The last time, you mean. You didn’t get to enjoy it, didn’t get to bathe in the overwhelming feel of him, didn’t get to make it memorable. It was something quick and shallow between two meetings of his. Three days later, you were packing your bags, wiping the tears from your eyes before he could see them. I’m sorry, you kept saying as Matty watched you from the door frame with trembling shoulders. 

This last time, you’ll make it worth something. Let the memory of you stick to his skin like a branding iron— irregular and scarred. 

Matty breathes heavily, kissing the skin of your collarbone, grazing his lips over the top of your breasts. Your head falls backwards, watching the ceiling as you pant for the sky. You’re afraid of looking at him, of making it real. Afraid you’d cry, or perhaps refuse to leave. 

“You’re beautiful,” Matty whispers, hands finding the small of your back. His fingers spread across your ribs. You shake your head. He can’t say things like that anymore. 

He doesn’t seem aware of the pain it causes you, some stabbing in a beaten heart. He plays your spine like his favorite guitar, familiar calluses over the bumps of bones. Counts them as he climbs your back, undoes your white cotton bra. You’d have worn something sexier if you had known this was coming. You mentally curse yourself as it falls apart. 

You have an instinct to cover your breasts up, blushing as he steps away to peer at you. You feel shy against his devouring stare, self-conscious of what he sees. You hate that you do.

You hate that it’s the same; you hate that it’s different. 

Matty’s thumb finds your nipple, rubbing slow circles on it. A shudder coils down your back. You bite your lip, panting. “Gorgeous.”

A crooked smile cracks on your face. You’re glad you still please him. 

He works at the button of your jeans. Your underwear doesn’t match, but he doesn't mention it as he works the legs down, fingers grazing your skin and raising your hair as he does it. You hold onto his shoulder to balance yourself as you finally step out of them. He feels stronger than he was, firmer. Maybe your palms have just forgotten the shape of him— and isn’t that just the worst thought. 

You don’t let yourself linger on it, afraid it’ll make you cry. You rack a hand through his curls instead— thankfully the same. You brush them back as Matty kisses your thighs. It’s feather kisses, not even to tease or burn, just to worship. 

“Matty…” It slips out of you. It sounds sad to your ears. Perhaps the consonants have changed in your mouth in the past five months, perhaps that’s just how you say his name now, letters dropping at the end like he had cut up your tongue on the way out. 

His hand finds the apex of your thighs, tossing your underwear aside, rubbing against your wet entrance. Pleasure climbs up your spine. You bite a moan, immediately clutching a handful of his hair, clenching your thighs to trap him. Like he would leave. Like your body knows he has. 

He gathers some of your wetness, swiping lazily at your clit. Matty knows your body like his favorite song. He could whisper the tectonic spots of you that make you scream like worshiped lyrics, the curves and dips and scars of you like the rugged grooves of his overplayed vinyls. He could get you off in under five minutes with minimal effort— in fact he has. Still, Matty takes his time. 

Fire pools in your stomach. Your fingers dig into his nails, perhaps meanly, perhaps vengefully. Matty thumbs at you, dipping one finger in the molten pot between your thighs. He coos gently at your breathy moans, encouraging you. 

He finally picks up in pace, waves of pleasure crashing against your limbs as another finger enters you. Your legs feel unsteady, the ground rippling under you, and you can’t trust yourself to stay upright. “Can we—” Your chin jerks to the hotel bed. 

Matty nods, standing up. He grabs your chin between two trembling hands, slick drying on your jaw as he kisses you. It’s a tender affair, pressing the words he can’t speak on your lips, to fall down your tongue and plant in your throat. 

You feel your eyes swell up with tears— how you want him to say it, how you want to say it back, how you want him to kiss you and not at the same time. Emotions pull you every which way; it’s a dizzying rollercoaster, half burning ecstasy and half wretched pain. 

You rip away from him; it’s too much. His head rests on your forehead, eyes solemnly closed— like he knows, like he’s sorry. He exhales. You watch Matty guiltily. The spiderleg eyelashes falling on his eyebags; the red, swollen lips; the cut of his jaw. You wish he’d be unrecognizable so it wouldn’t break your heart in half just to see him and know him.

Matty walks you backwards to the bed. You fall on it, scooping yourself up. Your head hits the pillows. Something in you is sad it’s some nameless hotel room and not his house or your flat. It makes this holy meeting banal, like New York was set in the middle of Ohio. 

Matty, towering over you, racks your last piece of clothing down your legs. He’s still completely dressed and it makes you feel just a little dirty to be laying naked for it. He watches you again, taking his time to unravel you in his mind. Perhaps he’s memorizing you, which you’re a little glad for. Remember me, you want to beg. You should have shaved your legs. 

You tug a hand out for him. His fingers cross through yours, letting you draw him over your body. He nestles easily between your thighs. 

His free hand finds your clit again, but you shake your head shyly. “Can you—” You gesture down, embarrassed to say it. 

Matty cocks his head, but you can tell in the dancing light of his eyes that he understands you. Shit-eating smile shining on his face, he says, “Can I what?” 

You offer him a deadpan look, but something in you pleads to say, Don’t change. I want you just like this. “Can you eat me out?” His proud victory, amused eyes twinkling at you and all, is short-lived. You feel the need to add, “Since it’s the last time and all.” 

Matty freezes above you. It’s the first time either of you mentioned it. You curse yourself, face wrinkling in guilt. What a great time to bring it up. 

He rubs gently between your eyebrows, forcing you to unfrown your forehead, to open your eyes and look at him. His eyes are soft, syrupy sweet. “Darling, I would love to eat you out.” You blush, but your legs clench in excitement. 

Matty starts his slow descent down your body, lips dancing over your bare skin. You shudder as he passes sensitive spots knowingly, pressing a wet kiss. You feel muted pain near your hip, and you know he’s left a hickey. You shake your head to yourself: always need to leave his mark. 

You’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll find the purple like a temporary handprint on your skin. You wonder what you’ll think of it; if you’ll want to scrub it off; if you’ll cherish it, mourn it when it’s gone. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed the taste of you,” Matty says, then runs his tongue across your folds.  

Pleasure strikes through the daze around you. Your senses sharpen; you gasp, rising your hips to meet him. His palm spreads across your hipbone, pinning you back on the mattress. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing at you as he licks your pussy. 

He’s diligent. Hardworking and hungry, lapping with abandon as you moan for him. His nails dig into your hip. You drop your thighs open, offering yourself up for him willingly. Matty tongues your pussy, wet sounds ringing through the room as you drip on his chin. You’d feel a little shy at the pornographic melody — sopping noises and muffled screams and the reverberating moans of Matty as he devours you — if you weren’t so busy melting with the fibers of the sheets. 

Your entire mind is floating near the ceiling. You feel disconnected from your body flapping around wildly, pressed firmly on the bed by a merciless hand. Waves of ecstasy go through your trembling hands. Pressure builds in your stomach. You fist the sheets uselessly, grabbing a handful of your own tits, only to bury home in the mess of his hair. 

You lose your hands in his mane; you always lose all parts of yourself in him. 

You scream his name, back arching away from the mattress, gripping his curls like a lifebuoy. The bedroom eclipses. You fall apart on his tongue, and as Matty climbs up licking his lips, you wonder what parts of you you’ve left behind on his tongue. 

“Good?” Matty asks. He knows it was, but he looks at you openly, craving validation. 

You smile lazily, still combing through his sweaty hair. You rub at his jaw. “Great.” 

“Yeah?” His cheeks pink. It’s a little adorable, like this was the first time and not the last. The reminder digs into your lungs. Your breath catches, as though it was news all over again.

Matty kisses you, tasting like you. Your hands find the hem of his shirt, dipping under the stretched material. You find the familiar planes of his stomach, stroking a silky touch over it. He gasps in your mouth, stomach tensing beneath your fingertips. You raise it over his head, find his lips again with a grin. 

He’s hard between your thighs, grinding into you. Your legs are limp from the previous orgasm, but he’s managing to bring you back to that dripping edge easily. He licks at your jaw, whispering dirty nothings in the crook of your ear, twisting a nipple. “So fucking wet for me,” he says. “Tastes so good. Wanna feel you. Wanna bury myself in you and never leave.” Your thighs clench, moaning. 

Matty unzips his jeans, pushing them past his hips and kicking them off. He palms his bulge, groaning. Your fingers hook in the hem, and he watches you religiously, short-winded, as you start pulling them down. He freezes under your touch, head snapping up. You frown at his sudden polar reaction. 

“Sorry,” he winces, stepping off the bed and rummaging for his pants. You rest on your elbows, watching him curiously. He digs into his pocket, fishing out a condom. 

Oh, you think. Smart. Of course, none of you know where the other has been recently. You yourself have had a very brief affair with a redhead, although you didn’t manage to go very far with him before ending in puffy sobs. It’s not the same, it’s not the same, it’s not the same, it will never be the same, you remember thinking over and over, biting your palm to stop yourself from crying until it’d been too much. 

It’s responsible to put a rubber. Safe. Matty probably doesn’t even know if you’re still on the pill. 

But don’t you just hate the idea that you have to. That this, the last time, will be spent with a latex barrier between you. That you won’t feel him entirely, warm and pressing into you. That it’s not the same, even with him. That it will never be the same again. 

That he’s walking around the city with a condom in his pocket, with the possibility of other women in his mind. That it wasn’t reserved for you, that anyone could be in his hotel room right now, that you just happened to meet him at the bar like all the others. 

Tears prickle at your eyes. Matty grimaces again, repeating, “Sorry.” 

“No, no,” you shake your head immediately, trying to fight off your watering look. “It’s smart.” 

“It’s just—” 

“No, I get it,” you cut him off, afraid he’ll start overexplaining and get into what he’s been up to without you. The girls he’s seen, the things he’s done with them. Do they come on his tongue, linger in his throat for days? 

Does he think of the taste of them when he kisses you? 

You bury your face in your palms, allowing yourself one indulgent moment of dark. You hope it can rewire your brain, wipe those filthy images of him with strings of faceless girls, licking and sucking and biting. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Matty asks. You snort meanly. As if you ever were okay before this. Doesn’t he know that he— that it— that you’re wrecked? Unraveling in the streets, unspooling in the underground, the yarn of you catching in the cracks of pavement. You’re half a woman and it’s only been five months. 

You peek through the cracks of your fingers. He’s standing in the middle of the room, half-naked, clutching his condom. His eyebrows are furrowed, watching you like a hawk. As though you’d disappear in front of his very eyes if he didn’t. He looks worried. Perhaps he should be. 

Moreover, he looks small. He’s lost all the Matty bravado you usually associate him with, falling through crowds and screaming a laugh. He seems quiet. Pretty, too, with his muscled shoulders and his rising chest. There’s a new tattoo near his hip, but you don’t linger on that. 

Sighing, you rack your hands through your hair, sitting up. “I’m fine,” you say decidedly, as though you would make it true just by speaking it. Matty still looks at you unsure. “I swear I’m fine.” 

“Okay,” he nods. Takes a vague step back towards the bed. Falters. “We don’t have to…” 

“No, no,” you’re quick to jump in, drawing a hand out to catch him. “I want to.” You tug him back to you. He follows carefully. 

Matty kneels above you. You suddenly feel overheated, melting just from his proximity. Your fingers trail over his stomach, adventuring down to his briefs. You pull them down, keeping heavy eye contact with him. His lips are parted, eyes volleying between your hands and your face, unsure of where to settle on. 

His cock springs free. Hard and glorious, you lick your lips. How you missed it. How you missed him. 

You wrap your hand around the base, stroking up to the tip. You gather some of the precum, lathering it down. A sinful groan leaves his lips. His fingers bury in your hair, racking to your nape to tug you into a kiss. 

Your heart swoons. You beg it to grow quiet, but it smashes against its bone prison, begging to be let out. To go with him when he inadvertently leaves again. 

“I want you,” you say against his lips. He grins, flushing, laying you back down on the bed. 

He ruffles with the condom. You purposefully avert your eyes away, prentending it's not real. Finally, he lays over you, nosing your cheek.

His hips align with yours. He grips his cock, lining it up, bending down to press another fiery kiss to your lips. You open your mouth as you’ve always done, slipping your tongue in his. His tip teases your entrance. You hold back a moan. 

It’s not a good idea. You told him as much when you kissed him at the bar, licking the vodka and lime off his lips. He didn’t agree or disagree, didn’t do much except coax your mouth open with a hungry tongue. You wonder what he really thinks about it now, but you were too occupied to ask back then. 

You have half a thought of doing it now, but you’re too scared of what his answer might be. It seems neither one is right. What’s the point of giving him a loaded gun? The bullet would lodge between two ribs either way. You’re tired of bleeding out.

Slowly, Matty thrusts into you. You gasp in his mouth, breath stolen from your lips as your walls rearrange for him. A delicious tingle spreads up your spine. It’s been forever. You’d almost forgotten how galactic it feels to join him. 

“Fuck,” Matty moans, head falling on your temple, as he bottoms out. “Fuck, finally. Finally.”

You bite your lip, arching your back, silently begging him to move. He doesn’t seem to be getting the message, or at least is decidedly ignoring it. He lingers in a private moment of silence, as though mourning the last first trust, as though eloging it. 

“I missed this,” Matty admits, moving out of you. You nod in agreement, neck slack from the burning pleasure already building inside of you. 

He’s slow and lazy, taking his sweet time. Each second is necessary, each trust purposeful. Matty is hardworked to make it last as long as possible. You’re glad. You’d stretch it into some impossible forever if you could. Exist only in this moment for the rest of time.

You roll your hips with him, finding him in the middle. He groans against your cheek, pressing kisses between each stroke. Your hand grips his shoulders, trying to accommodate to the shape of them, to memorize all the new parts of him. You drip down his back, running a finger up just to watch him shiver in bliss. 

“You’re perfect,” Matty coos in your hair, jaw slacked. You grin, digging your nails into his back. “You’re so good.”

I love you burns on your tongue. You bite it just to make sure it doesn’t spill, grinding into him. Your clit hits his pelvis perfectly, making you whimper. Keeping this heavenly angle, you rub yourself against him, clawing at his back each time a delicious wave of bliss wipes through you. 

“Pretty, little noises,” Matty revels, seemingly more to himself than you. “Perfect.” 

“You’ll give me some complex,” you tease, although you can’t deny the coil of pleasure spinning around your brain at the praise. 

Matty chuckles, shaking his head in your neck. “If I didn’t give you one before, I never will.” 

You hold him by his cheeks, forcing him to look you in the eyes. Of course, his stare is momentarily distracted by your swollen lips. “Maybe you haven’t tried hard enough,” you whisper playfully. 

He smiles, thrusting into you harder, watching with delight as your eyes roll in your skull. “You’re being a brat.” 

A laugh bubbles out of you, choked by another moan. “Come on, Matty,” you cheer, caressing his jaw. “Tell me I’m the most beautiful.” 

“Of course you’re the most beautiful.” There’s even a roll of his eyes, as though you were silly just for implying otherwise. 

You smile fondly, feeling your stare softening. Your finger trails to his lips, drawing the shape of them. “I feel my ego swelling already.” 

“Don’t let it. There can’t be two of us.” 

“‘Course not.” You smirk teasingly, looking at him through your eyelashes, finger slowing on his top lip. “How about you degrade me then?” You used to love it, choking from a strong hand around your throat, moaning as he whispered my pretty little slut in the crook of your ear. Your pussy flutters at the idea, making Matty gasps. 

Still, he shakes his head. “Don’t want to,” he whispers gently. Your breath catches, heart dizzyingly twisting on its aorta. The last time. To be cherished. To be loved. 

Your finger continues its pattern on his lips, slow and admiring. Matty parts them, letting it dip into his mouth, sucking on it. Drools stick to it as you exit, finding your clit. You rub a head-twisting rhythm on your bud. 

Matty’s head bends to watch you. His own hips snap quicker into yours, reveling in the spectacle. “It’s not like this with anyone else,” he says, something akin to worship in his tone. 

Your heart stops. Anyone else is all that rings inside your head, cruel and mean. You know he’s been with other people. Know that he will. But— Fuck, you don’t want him to. 

Matty is yours. Your legs wrap selfishly around his waist, trapping him in. He’s always been yours. You’ve walked a sure path all your life just for you to knock seamlessly into him. It’s what you were made for. You know this. You know this. 

(Girls sucking on his fingers, dropping their legs open, moaning around his cock, grinning lazily as—) 

You push his shoulders, rolling the both of you until you sit squarely on his lap. Matty finds your hips, gripping them hard enough to bruise. Good, you think, make it permanent. 

You line his cock again, slipping him back into you. A shared groan of relief leaves both your mouths. You snap up and down, losing that sickly slow rhythm, languid and loving. You’re angry, trying to force away those wretched images invading your brain by blissing your brains out. 

You play with your clit again, swiping furiously, jaw-slack as sloppy moans spill out of you. Your legs are already growing sore, but you power yourself on sheer will, riding him fast and hard. You screw your eyes shut, letting yourself get washed away by pleasure. 

Matty doesn’t know what to do with himself, holding onto your hips, your thighs, your ribs, your tits. He travels through your body, leaving your skin burning as he grasps another pleading part of you. Your heart swells. Bliss teeters around the edges. 

“Fuck, Matty,” you scream. “I’m close. Shit, I’m—”

He rolls you back under him, stealing your climax from your fingertips. Your eyes snap open, offense clear in the lines of your faces. “What—” 

“I wanna see you,” Matty shrugs, fucking into you slow again. “Look at me.” 

Annoyance at your stolen orgasm lingers in your limbs, but it’s quickly melted away as he twists a nipple, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. Pressure builds in your stomach again, quicker than you’d have thought. Of course, you should have seen it coming. It’s Matty— he always knows how to get you trembling under him, begging for him in under a few minutes. 

“Matty…” There you go, whining for him. 

His head snaps up from your neck, propping himself on an elbow to properly watch you. He lets go of your breast, finding your limp hand instead, interlocking your fingers. He’s so pretty— curls messily falling over his forehead; lips raw for you; dark eyes twinkling with light. 

Everything feels so intense all of a sudden. Your skin is electrified. You're hyperaware of him, of where he connects between your thighs. You roll your head, nuzzling your hair in his arm, practically purring. He smiles at you. 

“Are you gonna come?” You nod faintly. Matty kisses you, thrusting faster. 

Pressure grows and grows and grows. A deathgrip on his poor fingers. You cry in his mouth. Hot white blurs your vision. You fall apart, the last strings of you snapping clean cut. You’re a discombobulated puppet, screaming and crying and trembling under him. 

Matty chases his orgasms, forehead pressed against yours. You feel nothing but the edges of him. He screams, hips faltering, spilling into the condom. “I love you,” Matty groans. You flinch. “Fuck.”

You keep your eyes firmly closed, breathing heavily, afraid of what the world will look like when you dare open them. What the room will be without the blurry daze of lust. What clarity release will bring. You focus on breathing. On forgetting how he lays still between your legs. Him, Matty Healy. 

How long will he love me? Five months, and he still does. But the clock will turn, and the calendar will rip, and soon he won’t.

And what if— What if he doesn’t already? What if he said it in the middle of sex, like so many dazed men before him, high on the sweat and the moans and the head-shattering orgasm? What if you really were just a warm body met at a bar? Someone to use that fucking condom with? 

“Hey, hey,” Matty whispers, wiping at your cheeks. He envelops your body with his limbs. “Shh,” he tucks a sweaty strand of your hair behind your ear, rubbing a thumb on the apple of your cheek, “don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

Shit, you didn’t even realize you were crying. You turn your head shamefully away from him, trying to hide your pathetic sniffles. So much for blowing his mind with tantalizing aloofness. How fucking embarrassing.  

“It’s okay,” you say to appease him, but it comes out wet and watery. You wipe at your own cheeks, pushing his soothing fingers away, hiding behind your palms. “It’s fine. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” It’s tender, almost cooing, like trying to coax a cat from a very high branch. You shake your head, still refusing to come out and brave the world, see his face. “Fuck, I hate seeing you like this.” 

“Yeah, well…” The word trails on, catching in the dents of your palm lines. Yeah, well, it’s all I’ve been lately. Your lips tremble. You choke back a cry. Yeah, well, you haven’t been around to see.

Matty sighs. His presence is grounding, heavy and warm around your shivering body. You’ve missed feeling him like this, reattaching you one string at a time to reality. He plays with your hair, trailing a finger over the shell of your ear, rubbing the stress lodged in your jaw. “It’s okay,” he whispers in your neck. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m sorry.” 

It’s all you guys seem to be, sorry. Like that fixes anything.

With a deep breath, you push your palms away from your face, offering him a smile, grotesque in its obvious fakeness. He chews on his bottom lip, frowning at you. “I’m sorry,” he repeats— insists, really. 

You half-want to rip him apart. “Me, too,” you say instead. 

“I shouldn’t have said that.” 

A strike to your bruised heart. You feel it beat slower, like recovering from a punch. “No,” you agree quietly. 

Matty watches you, clearly with something on his tongue. You wonder if he’ll speak it, what it could be. Instead, he slips out of you, running to the bathroom to throw the used condom. You sit up in bed, peering over the end of it, trying to situate your scattered clothing. Time for your walk of shame. 

Matty walks back in the room, naked and still standing proud. Your heart pinches, a ghost of a smile hinting on your lips. He’s so known. Too known. 

“You don’t have to go,” he says, frowning at you. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure, pushing the sheets off of you. Your underwear is right there, thank God. 

“I’m serious,” Matty insists. “I don’t— I don’t want you to go.” 

You arch an eyebrow at him. “And what are we gonna do? Cuddle?” 

He blubbers. “Yeah— Yeah, maybe.” 

You sigh. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?” Loaded gun, grip offered first. 

Matty opens his mouth, then closes it. His eyebrows furrow further. “No, but—” Your breath catches. The bullet lands in your heart, exploding into specks of iron, catching in the tissue and blood. You wonder, almost cheeky, almost cruel, how you’ll recover from that one. “But I want to. Just tonight.” 

It’s not a good idea. You knew it from the start. It’ll be even harder to leave tomorrow. Harder than it is tonight. Harder than it was five months ago. Your heart is wretched apart, bleeding on the bones. 

But Matty looks at you, open and vulnerable and begging, and you never knew how to resist him. You bite on your lip, sighing. You turn back to the bed, burying under the sheets. 

Matty climbs beside you. He takes your waist, tugging you into his warmth. You nestle into him, smiling, hoping he doesn’t see. 

“Just tonight,” you whisper. 

“The last time,” he whispers. 

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #47 – City of Last Chances by Adrian Tchaikovsky

This book was recommended to me by a few different people, and in any case I am generally a pretty big Tchaikovsky fan. So of course I’m only getting around to reading it now, however many months later. Having put it off so long for no good reason at all, I can say that the book is in fact very good. Not Tchaikovsky’s best work (that’s still Children of Time in a walk), but a good read and one that left me curious (if not exactly excited) about checking out the sequel.

The story takes place in Illmar, the eponymous City of Last Chances – scarred and oppressed, tyrannized by cursed dukes and conquering imperialists, built upon a dangerous and unreliable route to other worlds and forever attracting the sort of people with no better options available to them. While the book has any number of characters, it’s really the city itself that is the star of the story – a story of how the theft of an imperial magistrate’s ward before he makes an experimental voyage through the gateway in the woods leads to a whole series of byzantine intrigues and bloody misadventures, culminating in an abortive revolution against the Pallseen who occupy and rule them. Which in one sense is an absolutely massive spoiler and in another just feels like stating an inevitability that was obvious from the first chapter.

The book was apparently quite heavily marketed as harking back to the whole New Weird trend of a decade or two ago – marketing that is lived up to wholly and entirely. The whole book absolutely drips with Mieville and Vandermeer. The oblique worldbuilding, the mundane day-to-day life built around the opportunities and inconveniences of some intrusion of the sublime, the awkward intersection of ancient magic and industrial bureaucracy, and so on, and so forth. The Reproach in particular feels very Area X (or very Roadside Picnic, as you prefer), but in general the city feels like absolutely nothing so much as Bas-Lag with the weirdness dial turned down from an 11 to a 5 or 6.

It’s a real triumph of the book, I think, that the world genuinely feels vast and strange even beyond the points where it matters to the story - that all the little asides and the ways something affects a certain character feel like just small parts of something far grander and more uncanny than anyone can hope to understand. Maybe I’m just painfully tired of rpg-system worldbuilding, but it’s an effect I dearly love.

Much like Bas-Lag, Ilmar is very clearly a magical fantasy city going through a magical fantasy 19th century industrial revolution (instead of steam engines its demonic slave labor contracted and imported from the Kings Below). The meat of the book is playing into the whole tradition of the idealistic, virtuous but tragic liberal revolution – 1848 in Berlin or Vienna, the June Days and Commune in Paris, Warsaw a dozen different times, Les Mis. You know the type. Students singing patriotic old songs, workers rising up against class oppression, ‘revolutionaries’ who are mostly cowardly nobles pining after lost privileges and criminal syndicate putting on airs being caught flat-footed by events. You can probably tell the basic story in your sleep. But for such a venerable genre, this book's honestly probably the best rendition of ‘fantasy 1848’ I can recall. Something which won it my instant affection.

The other thing the book just overwhelming shares with the Mieville’s Bas-Lag books is a very keen sense of the necessity of revolution combined with an extreme cynicism towards anyone who might actually carry it out. The university students are sincere believers, and also naive sheep the narrative views with condescension (at best). The professional revolutionaries are all power-grabbing hypocrites who have wrapped themselves in the flag. The workers syndicates have a real sense of solidarity among themselves, and also none at all to the demon slaves that are used and broken powering the mills and factories. And so on. The overall thrust of the book is a tragedy not in the sense of railing against the inevitable, but in the sense that triumph and revolution were absolutely possible – indeed plausible – but for the flaws and frailities of the revolutionaries who might have accomplished it.

Not to say that it's misanthropic – the book is very humane towards the vast majority of its POVs. Of which there are enough for ‘vast majority’ to be a meaningful term. It was something like 130 pages in before any character got a second chapter through their eyes, a feat I had previously only seen in Malazan – and that’s not including the chorus chapters which just give a half-doze vignettes from across the city. But yes, most characters (even the ones who are really just viscerally repulsive) are shown through their own eyes as someone who is at least understandable, if not particularly sympathetic. The sheer size of the cast in a 500 page book mean that no one character or set gets that many chapters from their perspective (you could easily have written as long a book about roughly the same events with half or less of the cast), but some of the dynamics that are very lightly touched on are just incredibly compelling. Its enough to make you wish this was a series that would ever get any fanfiction written about it, really.

Given the way the book is so deeply concerned with oppression and violence on the basis of culture, class, and nation – imperial occupiers, native population, refugees and immigrants used and scapegoated by both – it is kind of fascinating that this is a world where misogyny and (possibly? Not very explored, the only example of a queer relationship we see is hardly going to be concerned by normative society) homophobia just flatly don’t exist. Which would be less interesting if it was unusual, really – the same could be said about very nearly every recent sci fi or fantasy book on the same lines I can recall. Interesting because it is very much not the case in Melville’s stuff – the cultural impact of Ancillary Justice continues to echo down the years, I guess. So yes the imperial police inspector will extort sex out of a brothel owner in exchange for not stringing up the entire workforce for peripheral involvement with the resistance, but also this is entirely gender-neutral. Something very modern about how oppression is imagined relative to the ‘90s or ‘00s (or just a different genre of self-consciously feminist novel a few book shelves to the left).

But yeah, great book, I am compelled. No idea where the sequel would be going, but will probably hunt it down sooner rather than later.

[hopepetal]

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

Part Four!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

Impulse fell back into control of his own body in the same way one snapped out of a particularly long ADHD-induced dissociative state. Panicked, unthinking, and wondering how much time has it been? 

The book was still burning as Impulse instinctively reached out to snatch it from the flames, only fully processing a moment later that maybe he shouldn’t have grabbed something that was still actively on fire. With a cry of pain and shock, Impulse dropped the book onto the ground as the rain began to beat down more heavily. Stumbling back, he tripped over his own feet and fell, landing with a soft noise of pain as he held his injured hand close to his chest. 

For a moment, he sat there, the small fire put out by the heavy rain far too late. A fear the likes of which he had never felt before sat in his chest, causing his heart to race. 

What just happened to me? Is it going to happen again? My hand hurts I need to get it bandaged I need to TELL someone I can’t tell anyone what if it happens again what if I lose control and hurt someone what if– 

“Impulse?”

Once again, he was yanked from his spiraling thoughts by someone calling his name. Turning around perhaps just a bit too quickly, Impulse looked up to see Scar, sopping wet from the rain, standing behind him. “Scar,” he breathed out, equal parts relieved and terrified. “Scar, are you– are you okay?”

Scar frowned, his eyes immediately landing on Impulse’s burnt hand. “I… think I should be asking you that, Impulse. C’mere, we’re gonna get that all fixed up.” He carefully helped Impulse to his feet. “I’m not gonna ask what happened,” he began as they walked back to the main camp through the rain, “so don’t worry about that. But…” He sighed. “Just… Impulse, I– we– don’t want you to be suffering alone. We’re knights. We’re friends. We’re in this together.” 

Impulse nodded, trying to swallow that stubborn lump in his throat. “Yeah. Thanks, Scar.”

Mumbo, wearing a raincoat and holding an umbrella like any normal person would, waved to the two when they approached the tents. “Did you get caught in the rain?” he shouted, if only to be heard over the downpour. 

“No,” Scar called back, “we’re just naturally this wet!” 

“Oh, okay! Um, Grian and Pearl aren’t around, because, well, you know. Their wings,” Mumbo tried to explain, “their wings don’t– why am I explaining this to you, you both know this, goodness gracious…”

“Thanks Mumbo,” Scar said anyway, “are you gonna get inside? I don’t think this storm is gonna let up any time soon.” 

Mumbo shook his head. “This is actually the perfect time for me to study the possibility of harnessing lightning for power! Theoretically, it could work, but theoretically it could also blow me up. And to be honest, I can’t wait to see which one it is.”

“Have fun!” Scar called after him, before leading Impulse to the swaggon. Instead of tents like the other knights, he usually just stayed in the same place he did before joining the knights. “I have bandages and burn stuff here, because goodness knows I burn myself plenty when cooking. Just sit down right there…” He quickly rifled through one of his chests, before pulling out clean bandages and burn ointment. “Aaand I should have some water– how are you feeling, by the way?– here it is!”

As Scar helped Impulse cool the burn and clean his hand, Impulse was at a loss for words. Scar seemed to take note of that after a few minutes of him being unresponsive to the attempts at keeping the mood light hearted, and continued to silently bandage the treated burns. 

“I’m sorry,” Impulse began, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Scar chuckled softly, understanding shining through in his eyes. “I think I’d know that feeling better than anyone, Impulse. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I know I’ve done more than my fair share of… poorly thought out things… in the past.” 

Impulse had to bite back a laugh. “Yeah, I can think of a couple more memorable ones,” he admitted, “but I just… I dunno, Scar. I…” He sighed. “What would you think if I wasn’t human?”

Scar didn’t even pause. “I mean, Impulse, we’ve been over this a million times before. If you weren’t human, none of the knights would be.” He began to put away the bandages, ointment, and leftover water. 

Impulse frowned, shaking his head. “That’s not…” He flexed his right hand, testing to see how much he could move still, before placing it back in his lap. “What do you think of me now?” he pressed, looking back up at Scar.  

Scar smiled, turning back to Impulse. “Oh, that’s easy. You’re strong, kind, passionate, smart, a really good teacher, an amazing fighter, you’re funny, you’re creative, and just… you’re a great friend.”

“But what if I wasn’t…” Impulse tried to figure out how to word the question, bouncing his leg slightly. “What if I wasn’t just me?” 

Scar thought for a moment, before shrugging. “Well, I don’t think there’s any problem with bein’ that! And, Impulse…” He sat down so that he could be at Impulse’s eye level, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward. “You’re making it sound like there’s something wrong with being human.” He smiled kindly, but there was something that stopped it from reaching his eyes. “That’s what this is about, yeah? I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about it for a bit. With everything going on…”

Impulse shook his head, interrupting Scar. “No, no, no, there’s nothing wrong with being human! I just… what if the me I am isn’t good enough?”

For a moment, there was silence.

“Oh, Impulse.” Scar’s voice broke slightly on his name. “You are more than enough. You have always been. I’m so happy you’re one of my friends, a part of my life, you…” He took a deep breath, in and out. “If you could see the things you’ve done from an outside perspective, you’d see it– just how much you’ve changed and impacted lives. I…” he trailed off, caught for a moment in a fleeting memory. “I can say for a fact I’ve changed for the better since I met you. So please don’t ever say or think that you aren’t good enough. Because you are. Because you always have been.”

Impulse tried to blink away the tears that suddenly were welling up in his eyes, but it was too late. His vision blurred, and the next blink sent salty drops falling from his eyes to make dark spots on his fresh bandages. It was as if the dam burst with that, and tears began to fall in a steady stream as Impulse’s shoulders shook. 

All this pain, all this fear, all the self doubt and anxiety… and he wasn’t alone. He had never been, really. If it hadn’t been for him shutting the other knights out, he wouldn’t have ever ended up with a demon in his mind taking control whenever it wished. But now…

“Thank you, Scar,” Impulse got out, furiously wiping his eyes. “I… I think I needed to hear that.”

Scar nodded. “Of course. I… I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, and I wish I knew more to help you. But just… talk to us, okay? Or, gosh, I don’t know– talk to someone, at least! We won’t be able to help you if we don’t know you’re hurting.”

“Okay. Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Impulse wiped away what he hoped to be the last of his tears, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. “I– I will. I promise I’ll talk to you guys more. And I’m really sorry about all of this.”

Scar waved his hand. “Ah, don’t be. We all have our moments.” He smiled tentatively. “Do you want to stay here with me and wait out the storm? We can make bets on if Mumbo’s new experiment blows up or not.”

Impulse grinned– a real, happy grin. “Sounds great.”

–

Somehow, things got better.

The first day Impulse woke up feeling well-rested, he could hardly believe it. But it continued to happen, again and again, until finally he was waking up at a much more normal time. 

“For you, maybe,” Grian had said, but the clear relief in his expression over Impulse’s “recovery” had taken away any snark intended. 

Slowly, Impulse began to heal. Not only from the burns, but from the exhaustion and lack of appetite as well. The animals seemed to forget all about their previous distrust of Impulse, though Jellie still was a little wary. He didn’t really mind, of course. The joy he felt from being able to settle back into his life again was enough.

The other knights were thrilled, too. It was like a fog had been lifted from the camp, and everything just felt… lighter.

“Alright.” Pearl interrupted the lively chatter during lunchtime about two weeks later, “we’re unfortunately getting a little low on vegetables and some other supplies. It’s been a while since Impulse and I brought back everything, and I don’t want it goin’ bad, ya hear?”

“Soup day?” Mumbo piped up, eyes wide. They’d all heard this speech a million times, and it was always something the knights looked forward to. 

Pearl nodded, smiling. “Soup day.”

“I don’t know why we call it soup day,” Grian mumbled, “it really ends up more like stew, if you ask me.”

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Because, goofball, it’s tradition! And also, soup sounds nicer than stew.”

And so, Impulse found himself paired up with Scar, who kept watch over the pot and stirred while he chopped vegetables. 

“Whew!” Scar wiped the sweat from his forehead, turning away from the fire. “It's been a while since I've cooked. I forgot how hot everything gets!”

Impulse laughed. “Yes, that tends to happen with fire. Shocking.”

“Oh, you hush!” Scar grabbed a large spoon, waving it sternly in Impulse's direction before turning back to the pot. “You just keep cutting those veggies, mister.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Impulse turned back to the cutting board, reaching for the knife that lay beside it. 

Do it.

Impulse froze. His hand stopped where it was, hovering just over the knife. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment. He had to calm down. He was– he was just hearing things. Nothing was wrong. He was fine. The demon was gone. It had to be. It hadn’t spoken in weeks. Why would it show up again now?

Impulse picked up the knife, placing a washed and peeled carrot on the cutting board. He began to cut the carrot into thin slices with deft hands. In the background, he could hear Scar humming to himself as the fire crackled. 

It's just you and him. Alone. The words were like a fog settling over his mind, like icy hands gripping at his heart. An easy target.

Impulse's chopping stilled as he tensed up, before starting to cut again. His movements were sharper, harder, and one of the carrot slices flew off of the table. “Gosh–” He set the knife down, bending to pick the carrot slice up and throw it away. 

“You good, man?” Scar called from where he stood beside the fire, not turning to look away from the pot. “Havin' some troubles?”

He has his back to you.

“Nah,” Impulse joked, though his tone was a bit forced. “Just underestimated my own strength.” He straightened back up, gripping the edge of the table with his hands. 

No. No, no, no no no no. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not now. Not after he’d finally started to be happy again. 

The voice cooed softly in his head, a persuasive siren song. It would take nothing at all to kill him. Impulse found his hand drifting toward the knife, unable to stop. To stab him in the back... He picked it up. Somehow, this was different from the possession. Yes... feel the thirst... spill his blood–!

The demon wasn’t making him do anything. This time, it made him want to.

“No!” Impulse breathed out, stumbling back. He threw the knife down on the table. “Sorry, Scar. I gotta go. I'll tell Grian to come out and help you.” 

Impulse fled, not sticking around to hear Scar's confused “Wait–!”

–

“...just worried, is all. I know you see it too. It’s like whatever happened–”

Whatever conversation Grian and Pearl were having before Impulse interrupted had probably been important by the sound of it, but Impulse didn’t really have the time to feel guilty about that. Panicked, he looked back and forth between them both, still panting slightly. “Grian?” he got out, trying to force his voice to stay calm, “Grian, I need you to go help Scar. I– I can’t…” He trailed off as he realized just how stupid this all sounded. 

Pearl took a step toward him, her face unreadable. “Are you feeling alright, Impulse?” she asked, and after a moment, Impulse swallowed and nodded. “Are you sure, mate? You’re looking awfully pale.”

Grian said nothing, but Impulse noticed how his wings had slightly spread out, colourful feathers slightly puffing up. Grian had never been surprised by anyone before– he somehow always knew when someone was coming. So unless he had been angry at Pearl for some reason (which, thinking about it, wasn’t all that unbelievable), it had to have been Impulse who had set him off. 

…right?

Impulse just tried to smile and nod. “Um. Yeah. Sorry.” His eyes kept drifting back to Grian, which Pearl noticed.

She turned to Grian and smacked him on the shoulder. “Hey. Birdbrain. That’s Impulse, mhm? Our friend? Pull yourself together, goodness gracious.”

Grian blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Oh– was I staring? Uh, yeah, sorry about that.” His wings slowly folded back behind him, and he lost the alert posture. “Sorry. What was happening?”

“Nothing,” Impulse got out. “I’m good. I promise.”

Pathetic. He was pathetic. It wasn’t even that long ago when he’d had that conversation with Scar about reaching out, and being more open with the other knights. Guess this was just another thing he managed to screw up instantly. 

Impulse began to back away from the two. “The uh. The soup! Yeah, the soup’s almost done. I’ll see you guys at dinner…?”

Pearl smiled, if only to put him at ease. “Of course. See you at dinner, Impulse.”

Impulse began to walk away, and it was only when Grian and Pearl started talking again in hushed tones was he reminded that the contract with the demon gave him enhanced hearing. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to invade on their privacy–

“I told you. You could see it in his eyes.” 

“Grian, not now.” 

…especially when this was clearly about him.

Impulse ran the rest of the way back to Scar, and was all-too relieved to see that Mumbo was there as well. “Hey. Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“Oh, it’s alright!” Scar called over to him, “we’re just about finished up, so don’t you worry!”

“I got to chop the vegetables,” Mumbo added, “but really, I’ve been thinking– it would be quite simple to just get an automatic…” He started to ramble about his idea of an automatic vegetable cutter, but Impulse found he couldn’t quite follow along as well as he’d hope to.

The demon was back. Or maybe it had never left. And not only could it speak to Impulse and possess him but it could influence him as well. 

Impulse was strong. He had trained all his life to hone his strength and skills. He couldn’t fly, couldn’t breathe underwater, couldn’t withstand a fiery blaze, and most certainly couldn’t teleport. But he was strong. In terms of pure physical strength, none of the other knights stood a chance.

And that terrified him. 

Dinner went by in a blur, and it felt as though barely a moment had passed by when Impulse laid down to sleep. He had been stuck in a sort of zoned out state ever since the demon had reappeared, and only now did his head feel more clear.

Today had been a warning. What happened with Scar– Impulse could’ve killed him. The fact that he hadn’t was frankly a miracle. But it would happen again. The demon would speak to him and he would pick up the knife and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself in time. 

Tomorrow.

Impulse would leave camp tomorrow, and he would run until he was far, far away from anyone he could hurt.

But for now, he needed to sleep.