#if no one wants this please feel free to either tell me or completely disregard lol. if i make one i dont want it to mega flop ajshdjfhf

[actuallyitsstar]

okay, okay, now that communities are a Real Thing for everyone, would any of you gay people in my phone actually ~want~ me to make an active top gun community where we can all talk and hang out? bc i would love to do that for u guys. for the entirely selfish reason that i just want to talk to people lol, does anyone else also want to do that ?? (and also i just want an excuse to have a place to expel the crazed thoughts boiling within me like soup but i digress)

[starrylothcat]

Hello there! I absolutely love your writing, I often feel bad I’m constantly littering your notifications 👉🏼👈🏼

I’m not sure if you’ve done this but I would love a hunter x f!Jedi reader with spicy prompt “make me forget today” with either side being angsty.

In my mind the dynamic between the two is similar to codywan- really close but duty comes first. Could take place during clone wars or bad batch show, whichever you think would work best! Can definitely be NSFW, whatever you’re comfortable with.

And of course, feel free to pass if this ask isn’t for you. I completely understand! All the love! 💕💕

Conquest of Spaces

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: You and Hunter give in to one another, your hidden feelings set free. It’s something that you both know can’t continue, but when you meet again after Order 66, are you finally allowed to have what you’ve always wanted?

WC: 3600

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. PiV sex, angst, happy ending and Soft Hunter Bad Batch. Reader is a fem Jedi, looks not described and no pronouns used. Takes place before and after Order 66.

A/N: Never feel bad for spamming my notifications! Oh do I love me clone and Jedi angst. Thank you so much for the amazing prompt, I hope you enjoy it. It’s fluffy and angsty and hopefully kind of romantic? Lol 🥹👉👈

“Please make me forget today.” Those five words, spoken in broken desperation, sealed your fate. “Please.

You didn’t mean for this to happen, to allow feelings to bloom between the cracks. You tried plucking out the weeds, clearing those aggressively growing sentiments from your subconscious but they resurfaced stronger every time.

Your voice shook as you whispered those words in his ear, grasping onto his armor like it was a lifeline, you knew it wasn’t fair.

It was unjust to both him and yourself.

He could have said no, pushed you away.

You could have attempted to hold yourself together, to put on the in-control, strong Jedi facade one more time, though that mask was beginning to fracture.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold it up before it would shatter completely into dust.

You were assigned to work with him and his brothers often, building trust with the team that few others had.

You and Hunter shared a strong camaraderie, a fellowship forged by mutual respect and dedication to your roles in the Republic. Your ability to understand one another with just a glance, how perfectly you fit together, could not be denied.

You tried to disregard the growing lingering glances, the way his tone would soften when he addressed you, or how he frequently invaded your dreams.

You could tell he was restraining himself, too. He knew the risks, the dangers of letting emotions divert you from your defined roles in this war.

Maybe in a different life, you could have more, but not in this one.

You locked those feelings away, though it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore them.

It wasn’t until you returned to Kamino after a disastrous mission that you left that hidden chest of feelings unlocked, whether you did it purposefully or not.

You had lost most of your squad. It wasn’t your fault, but you were bearing the burden.

You had known Hunter was on Kamino for a short leave, and comm’d him to meet you. He was the only one you could talk to.

Hunter met you, knowing immediately something was wrong. Hunter listened to you speak, your words quickly coming out as quiet sobs, feeling lost. You were supposed to be a protector, a peacekeeper. You felt as if you were failing. You told him of all your uncertainties about the war, and how you didn’t feel like a protector when all you did was fight for something that seemingly had no purpose or end.

You don’t remember the exact timeline of events, but after you breathed those words, his arms were around you, pulling you into a firm embrace as you leaned against his armor.

He murmured that he understood, and the burdens of being a leader weighed heavy on him, too.

You had looked up at him, locking on to his honeyed eyes you often found yourself lost in, almost too gentle to belong to a born and bred warrior such as him.

Hunter’s face was so close to yours, that you could see the speckles in his cornea and edges of his tattoo where the ink had bled into his skin.

His musky, spicy scent overtook your senses right before his lips met yours.

Hunter’s lips were warm, his stubble lightly scratching your face as his tongue slid against your own, your previous tears now long dried.

He pulled away, giving you the chance to say something.

“If I’ve gone too far-“ He started, but was cut off as you pulled him back in, your body buzzed with a craving you didn’t realize was possible.

This kiss was more fervid, and desperate as he wrapped his gloved hand in your hair. You were weightless in his arms, your mind spun with excitement, guilt, desire, and regret.

You shouldn't be indulging in this, letting him whisk you off your feet as he carries you into a nearby weapons closet, his mouth nipping and licking at every pressure and pleasure point on your neck.

The door slid shut, mouths crashing together again, tugging off armor and robes alike as everything that had been built between the two of you was finally set free. The thin, fraying tether that was keeping your professional relationship and what you truly desired apart had finally snapped.

It was a moment of weakness for you both.

But neither of you stopped.

You didn’t know where either of you began or ended, bodies burning with need as he slid into you, his mouth leaving marks along your collarbone.

Hunter’s pace was rigorous, knowing you didn’t have much time. Even as he desperately pounded into you, his touches were generous and worshipful, almost like you’ve done this a million times before.

He knew exactly where to feel you, he knew exactly what you wanted and when you wanted it. He rasped between strained groans about how beautiful you were, and how long he’s been wanting this.

You didn’t respond, knowing if you did, it would make this situation even more complicated than it currently was.

All you could do was gasp his name, pulling him closer and closer to you, wishing that you could stay in this weapons closet for the rest of time, just you and him.

Afterward, as you lay sweaty and messy, awkwardly perched on a weapons locker, there was so much you wanted to say.

Instead, the words hung in the air with your heavy breaths as you quickly dressed.

You could feel Hunter’s eyes boring into your soul, not knowing exactly what to do next. Hunter broke the silence, speaking the words he knew he shouldn’t say, the utterance like blades piercing your heart.

“I love you.”

You bit your lip which was now trembling, tearing your eyes from his, unable to look at him.

“Hunter…”

Why did he have to say it out loud?

Guilt weighed in your gut, as heavy as durasteel, knowing you shouldn’t have given in.

You wanted to cradle his face, kiss him, run your fingers through his locks, and tell him you loved him too.

Of course you loved him. You’ve always loved him.

You wanted nothing more than to just be with him, but you both knew that was a fantasy.

The war was only becoming more devastating, more clones and Jedi were needed by the day to keep the peace.

Hunter was the one his brothers looked to for leadership. He couldn’t leave his squad, his family.

For you to be the perfect Jedi the Council wanted, you needed a clear conscience and a pure heart. That meant no selfish attachments to cloud your mind.

Hunter placed his thumb and forefinger under your chin, seeing your face darken at his words. He tilted your head toward him.

“I know you can’t say it back. But I want you to know.”

His lips met yours once more, chaste and restrained, before exiting the closet without looking back.

You almost called out to him, to return the forbidden words. Instead, you let him walk away.

It was the last time you saw him before the galaxy erupted into chaos a few short weeks later.

Everything you once understood, once thought to be true, was burned and spread with the ash of the Jedi Temple.

You narrowly escaped, losing contact with everyone and anyone, hiding on remote planet after remote planet, not staying in one place too long.

You thought of Hunter, nausea wrenching your gut. Was he alive? How many Jedi has he killed? Was he with the Empire now?

The thought of him pointing his blaster at you, his viroblade at your throat, the tender glint in his deep, brown eyes replaced with bloodlust made your stomach lurch.

It made you sick, wishing so desperately you would have told him you loved him, said it out loud. You wished you had not been afraid, tethered to the Jedi Code that now meant nothing.

As you wandered and hid, you found yourself holding your comm, wanting to contact Hunter.

You knew you couldn’t, but not knowing whether he was alive, dead, or worse, ate at your soul.

Whether it was The Force, cosmic fate, divine intervention, or pure coincidence, you would see Hunter again.

You caught wind of a smuggler offering credits for jobs on Ord Mantell, in desperate need of work.

When you saw Hunter and his brothers sitting at the bar in Cid’s seedy establishment, you thought you were dreaming, or stepping into a trap.

They just stared, just as shocked to see you.

You whipped out your blaster, memories of clones pulling their own blasters on you, firing without mercy as you begged them to stop as you barely made it alive out of the Temple.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you!” You stood your ground, trying to hide the fear in your voice.

No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening!

Hunter was the first to stand up slowly, your name leaving his lips in quiet surprise.

You gripped your blaster, waiting for the moment he drew his.

Tech stood up slowly next, raising his arms.

“We won’t hurt you.” Tech said. “The chips did not activate in us.”

“Chips? What chips? What are you talking about?”

Your blood was ice, stepping backward toward the exit.

“Please I don’t want to…“

Your finger hovered on the trigger, not knowing if you’d have to fight those who you once called friends, the man who you once loved, and still did.

Hunter examined you, as if not believing what he was seeing was real. Maybe you were a ghost. You sure felt like one.

Your eyes darted between them all, none of them reaching for their weapons.

Your body shook, tears in your eyes, never expecting to see anyone you knew ever again, especially not them. You slowly lowered your blaster as Hunter approached you, placing his hand on your wrist as your legs almost gave out from the adrenaline coursing through your body.

“Is it really you…?” You choked out, your blaster clattering to the ground. Hunter nodded, pulling you in close for an embrace, saying your name with such profound relief you could have fainted.

Hunter pulled away, his eyes swimming with emotion, as were yours. Before you could say any more, the rest of the squad were surrounding you.

You hugged them all, too, happy to see them alive, and not trying to murder you.

It was a bittersweet reunion, catching up on all that had happened once they convinced you they weren’t dangerous.

They explained everything.

The chips, the conspiracy, Crosshair, Omega.

Your mind spun, trying to process it all.

All the while, Hunter’s eyes never left yours in all the hours you sat at the bar.

There was so much you wanted to say, but it had to wait.

They invited you on their next mission with Cid, even offering a small cut of the credits when the job was completed.

You agreed, having no other option than to say yes, though it made you nervous to join them, especially since the Empire was already on their tail.

Adding an (ex) Jedi to the mix could make things messy.

They didn’t seem too concerned, as long as you didn’t make yourself obvious.

Hunter gave you a small smile, a knowing look in his eyes flashing momentarily, his hand coming to your shoulder as you stood up from the bar to head to The Marauder.

“I’m happy you’re coming with. We’ve…I’ve missed you.” Hunter spoke quietly.

“I’ve missed you too, Hunter.” He nodded, wanting to say more, but Echo was gesturing to him to go over the mission details.

He squeezed your shoulder. “See you on the ship.”

You stepped onto The Marauder, and not much had changed, besides Crosshair’s absence and Omega’s new corner of the ship that she proudly gave you a tour of.

As you took off from Ord Mantell, watching the planet get smaller as you ascended into the atmosphere, it felt like before, when things were more simple.

Eager for your next assignment, ready to serve the Republic and make the Council proud.

You sat in a blast chair, watching the boys talk and Omega peering over Hunter’s shoulder as he set the hyperspace coordinates.

It felt like old times. Almost.

The job was simple, at least that’s how Cid described it. You were to retrieve a package from an arms dealer who was expecting you in a small village of the heavily forested planet you were heading for.

You weren’t to meet him until the next day, so you had downtime the evening before.

Tech landed the ship in a small clearing on top of a hill, most of the planet thick with old-growth trees. A lake was nestled amongst the trees down the sloping hill a few klicks away.

The water reflected the sun that was almost set as two moons drifted into the sky to replace the star in the sky.

Tech and Echo were busy looking at the map, deciding the best way to get to the village the next day while Wrecker and Omega played a game of Dejarik. Hunter was quietly and diligently cleaning his blaster, sneaking glances at you as he did so.

Hunter was respecting your boundaries, not wanting to push you into anything too quickly. He wanted nothing more than to kick everyone off the ship, wrap himself around you, feel you against him, proving that you were indeed real. He assumed you were still weary of clones, which he didn’t blame you for. He was just happy you were alive, and safe. That was enough for him, if nothing else.

You knew he was looking at you while you were organizing your things. You desperately wanted to talk to him alone, about the last time you saw one another.

Did he still love you? Did he mean what he said? Could you even pick up where you left off, after all that’s happened?

You peered at the clones you shared the ship with, tears filling the sides of your eyes, memories flooding back to you of your time with them. It seemed so simple back then. But now…what were you? They were still clones but now untethered by what they were bred for.

You were free as well, though the Jedi Code still burned into your skull, finding it hard to forget. If you weren’t a Jedi anymore, then what were you?

“Are you okay?” Omega noticed you, your hands trembling.

You sniffed, quickly wiping your eyes. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, especially Hunter’s.

“I…just need some air.” You stood up, shoving your pack under a blast chair. “I’ll be at the lake if you need me.”

You smashed the button to lower the ramp and headed out before it even touched the ground, before anyone could say anything to you.

Intense emotions swirled in your chest, briskly walking toward the serene water. The cool air of the evening calmed the ache in your being slightly, your hands still trembling.

The man you loved was in the ship behind you, and yet your footsteps led you further away from him. It was almost too much, suddenly being back with them, with him.

You roamed silently to the lake, sitting down near the edge of the water.

You closed your eyes, trying to meditate, focusing on your emotions. You honed in on the water lapping at the shore, the breeze rustling through the leaves, and the distant call of a nocturnal predatory bird.

You knew Hunter was there before he spoke.

“Everything is different now.” His voice was low. “It’s…still hard for me, too.”

You nodded, biting your lip, your eyes still closed.

“I tried to find you, to see if you were alive. But I didn’t want to risk endangering you.”

You slowly opened your eyes, focusing on him. He was looking right at you, his form illuminated by the glow of the moons.

“I didn’t know…I was afraid…” You stammered. “I wanted nothing more than to know if you were alive…I’m sorry that I never…” Your next words were caught in your throat as Hunter’s lips met yours, soft and loving. You were transported to your first kiss, all that time ago.

That ache in your chest was suddenly gone, replaced with a weightlessness only he could make you feel.

He pulled away almost as quickly as he leaned in.

He silently gazed at you, a hand coming to caress the side of your face.

You leaned into his touch, bringing your hand over his. “I never stopped thinking about you.” He whispered, his thumb tracing your cheek.

“Can I kiss you again?” He murmured.

“Yes.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Soon, you laid out underneath him, your clothes a makeshift blanket under you on the shore of the lake.

Instead of in a cramped weapons closet, you were free in the evening air, the endless sky above you.

You took your time re-exploring each other’s bodies, relishing in languid pleasure as the moons hung heavy in the night sky.

Hunter did not leave an inch of your body untouched, bringing you to your peak over and over again with his hands and mouth, making up for the lost time.

When he was satisfied you were ready for him, he positioned himself on top of you, his hair hanging from his headband, haloing his face above you.

He slowly entered you, moans leaving both of your lips, your hands coming around his shoulders, welcoming the stretch as he sank into you. It was mind-melting pleasure, feeling him so close and real.

Hunter stopped once he was fully seated in you, dropping his head to your side.

“I still love you.” His lips were right at your ear, deep inside you, but not moving. Not yet.

You cradled his face, just as you wished you did all that time ago as he searched your eyes for an answer.

Part of him worried you had just made the same mistake as before, giving into your carnal desires when there was still so much uncertainty.

Was this something you should be doing, was it selfish to want one another when others were still suffering?

You kissed him gently, tears catching on your eyelashes, his worried thoughts evaporating with your touch.

“I’m sorry I never said it back.” You traced his tattoo with your fingertip, his eyes closing, relishing your touch.

“You couldn’t. I knew you couldn’t.” He muttered, his brows furrowed. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position…”

“We can now. We can say it.”

Hunter’s eyes opened, a gentle smile on his face. “Then say it.” He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you, Hunter. I always have.”

He smiled as he nuzzled the side of your face, the world melting away as he began to move, bodies entwined as one.

You were boneless and safe in his embrace as his fingers and lips molded to you perfectly.

His thrusts were slow and purposeful, his eyes never leaving yours.

Hunter touched you like before, like you’ve been lovers for 100 years, mapping your body so lovingly, so exquisitely, so perfectly.

He was afraid if he didn’t intricately memorize every curve and soft swell of your body, you might slip away again, and he wouldn’t get another chance.

You locked your ankles around his waist, changing the angle. Hunter let out a low whine, his head falling to your shoulder as your pleasure grew.

You were thankful for the slight breeze coming off the water, sweat forming on your bodies as your passion intensified.

You lightly tugged at his hair, his name leaving your lips in breathy mewls, his baritone moans thick with longing, dropping an octave as you clenched around him.

Hunter brought a finger to your clit, drawing tight circles, his thrusts hitting you in such a way you couldn’t discern the stars in your vision from the ones in the sky above.

Your fingernails dug into his muscled shoulder blades as your body arched toward him.

Hunter was drunk on your smell, your body, his senses absorbing every small sound.

Your intense arousal filled his nostrils, tasting your sweet skin as he left open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

Your body was on fire, overwhelmed by his tenderness, his devout passion, wordlessly telling you how much you meant to him.

“I’m right here, I have you.” Hunter rumbled, pressing his lips to yours, feeling your body tremble as you teetered on the precipice of your final orgasm. “I’ll always have you.”

He swallowed your pleasured sobs as you came, constricting and trembling around him, sending him over the edge.

Hunter let out a shuddered groan, pressing his hips into yours one final time, filling you with his release, his lips still on yours.

Your hands delicately roamed his back, your eyes fluttering open to meet his as he rested his weight on his forearms around you.

Your bodies stilled, trying to catch your breaths, the only other sound the tranquil waves splashing on the shore behind you.

You held on to one another, not wanting this moment to end. Hunter left feather-light kisses on your jawbone, leading to your lips, sliding his mouth to yours for an immensely passionate kiss.

The future was uncertain and unmapped, just as it was back when you were Jedi and soldier. You may have to take up your old roles once again, putting duty before all else.

You made peace with that, knowing how you felt for one another would only make you stronger, having something real to hold on to as you traversed into the unknown.

Taglist: @crosshairlovebot @blueink-bluesoul @kimiheartblade @wizardofrozz @clonemedickix @din-miller @sunshinesdaydream @kashasenpai @freesia-writes @multi-fan-dom-madness @coraex @aconstructofamind @dreamie411 @dystopicjumpsuit @starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @secretthegriffin @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @secondaryrealm @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @king-chaos-world @the-cantina @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @sleepingsun501 @wings-and-beskar

Dividers by @idontgetanysleep

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Rachel Daly x Millie Bright x Reader

Part Seven - Coming in Crutch

Posted: 11/05/23, Edited: 26/09/23

TW: mentions of unwanted attention and harassment

Rach’s perspective:

Looking up into the stands after scoring my first goal against Tottenham I forgot for a second that my girl wasn’t here, I’m so used to her always being near me that it doesn’t feel right when she’s not. I’ve been like this all week - going to tell her something funny or talk about the pranks I’d played at training or simply just taking Dexi for a walk together. Everything I do, I just automatically think she’s there with me. I know she’s having an amazing time away though, remembering all the games she has been here for and all the ones she will be at in the future. Shaking the thoughts away I needed to get my head back in the game. This match was gruelling, we played so well but in the end came home with a draw, scoring two and making my way up the golden boot ladder. Of course I want another trophy for the shelf but I don’t want to seem too confident as it’ll be a blow if I don’t.

You had managed to get Rachel’s game on your phone, pleased with yourself with how your timing had worked out perfectly. The morning sun rays had soaked your skin before coming back for a shower, now laid up on your bed to air dry and watch the game. You had text your girlfriend earlier to wish her luck but she didn’t know you were watching. Elated at her scoring two but gutted their hard work didn’t pay off, Tottenham had a lot to fight for being near the bottom of the table and that really showed. Villa had solidified the 5th place in the league, a goal they had for 3 years time but completing it in one season. Texting her at the end to say she and the girls played so well and not to be too hard on herself, you’re always proud of her and the team no matter what.

During the week away, Lucy and Keira popped over to show you the sites around Barcelona, visiting all the touristy spots and taking lots of photos together. Chelsea trained for the impending second leg of the semi final while you and Millie enjoyed the sunshine, cocktails and boat trips. Towards the end of the week you were starting to miss Rachel terribly but she was always only a phone call away. The game came and went, Chelsea lost meaning the team were in dire need of cheering up - planning a night out all together before going home. The Barca girls were invited too and the English team mates came over to get ready with you and Millie.

The night out had dragged into the early hours of the morning as you danced around the club with your newly formed friends, you weren’t drinking too much tonight as you wanted to enjoy your last day tomorrow. Remembering how awful you felt the last time you went out you knew you didn’t want to feel sick all day when you could be topping up your tan for the last time. The music blaring and lights flickering created the party atmosphere, blowing The Blues’ disappointment of the loss away. Later in the night you split from the group to use the bathroom but when you came back your friends were no longer to be found, you didn’t worry too much and knew they’d turn up somewhere. Popping your head into the different rooms to see if you could spot them before heading to the garden, you couldn’t find anyone there either so you decided to station yourself at the bar knowing that someone would come around sooner or later. Finding the only bar stool available you sat down and tried to get the bar woman’s attention to order a drink. The person next to you soon left leaving the stool next to you free which quickly got taken by an older looking gentleman who immediately gave you bad vibes. He tried to make small talk, you smiled politely but didn’t engage in any conversation. After he got the barmaid’s attention before you did he offered to buy you a drink, you declined his offer but disregarding your wishes he still ordered you a cocktail. Reiterating you didn’t want a drink and pushing it away made him angsty, “don’t be ungrateful, drink up” he said pushing the glass back towards your hand. The barmaid glared at him in a way to say she was watching him as she took the order you actually wanted them span your chair around to face the dance floor hoping to catch sight of your friends but the man’s advances still didn’t let up. That was until his hand landed on your thigh. “Don’t touch me please!” you shouted smacking his hand away and opening your phone to text Millie, managing to send ‘SOS bar’ before your phone died.

Pushing the stool back you tried to walk away from the bar in search of your friends when you felt an unwanted hand on your bum, turning around to slap him his sweaty hand gripped your forearm squeezing tightly. As you tried to pull away he held onto you tighter, burning your skin as it twisted under his hold on you. You felt your heart thump harder in your chest as you screamed at him to let go of you, people glanced over but did nothing to help. His raspy voice mumbling “where do you think you’re going?” made you feel sick, his teeth gritted and mouth barely moving as his words hit you, feeling a knot in your stomach making it churn. You tried desperately to yank your arm away from him but his strength easily overpowered you. Unable to move you started to panic, how was this happening in a crowded room of people?!

In a sudden and desperate attempt to get away you instinctively threw your glass of vodka into his eyes, his grip loosening a little but not enough to escape. Your body jolted with sudden movements trying everything to make him let go, your hair flung over your face and blocked your vision of someone else approaching you. “SHE SAID LET GO OF HER!” the voice thundered around the room louder than the music making the whole room turn silent causing hundreds of eyes to stare in your direction. The sigh of relief that left your body knowing Millie had found you made you want to punch the air. The man yelped in pain as she slammed her crutches down on his toes, immediately letting go of you allowing you to run into the awaiting arms of her Chelsea teammates. Some were filming as Lucy approached, her fist drawn back as she went to punch him only stopped by Kiera hanging onto her knowing it would cause her reputation to be damaged. “Should have known you’re all dykes!” he shouted as he lost the battle. Millie towered over the man delivering another blow of her crutches into his feet, her eyes red with anger, her face displaying a look nobody would want to be on the other end of. Security finally caught word of the scene and advised the police had been called, offering a safe space to wait until they came and made sure the man would be waiting for them.

Bruises already forming peppering your arm in purple and blue hues as you sipped on water in the comfort of your hotel room. Now well into the morning Lucy and Kiera had returned to their own house while Erin, Sam and Guro had moved their duvets and pillows onto the floor of your hotel room. Surrounded by people who cared about you as you curled up onto Millie’s stomach who was desperately trying to warm you up. The adrenaline had worn off and with the shock kicking in you were shivering uncontrollably even with the humid air of the foreign country. Your whimpers escaping as tears started to fall again “I just want to go home”.

Part Eight - ReUnited

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Hey!! I’ve recently come to learn that some of my actions to you have been extremely disrespectful and hurtful, and I just wanted to come on here and sincerely apologise.

I requested an Aragorn fic wich you so kindly fulfilled and it was absolutely perfect! But I also sent a similar request out to a few other blogs (and another writer also wrote for it as well). Additionally I sent in a bunch of other requests too you after you’d already written for my first one!

I’m fairly new to tumblr so I wasn’t aware of requesting etiquette or how my actions might impact you and other blogs. And this is a failure on my part, I definitely should have educated my self a bit more before jumping into interacting and asking for something from you or any other blog.

At the time I didn’t realise just how disrespectful and hurtful these actions are and for that im truly sorry. In no way shape or from did I intend to making it seem like I was dissatisfied with your work or unappreciative with your kindness in actually taking the time to fulfil my request! I sent the a similar request out to others because my sole intention was thinking how other blogs may write for the same character dynamic but create different plot lines which would have the characters being put in different situations. I guess I was just being greedy and that this isn’t an okay thing for me to do or have done.

I also wanted to apologise for sending in multiple requests after you fulfilled the first one already! I should’ve realised how annoying and taken for granted it must’ve felt to have me pester on and on. I understand now that this is completely disrespectful and not an appropriate thing to do! I think I thought that blogs saying they accept requests wouldn’t mind receiving loads because the writer could pick and choose which ones they’d feel inspired to write for. (This was so stupid and insensitive of me to think, obviously it’s overwhelming and like a complete disregard of your efforts) I’m truly sorry, I should’ve understood this before I went ahead and bombarded you.

In no way am I trying to excuse my actions or expect you to forgive me, I just wanted to take accountability for the way I might’ve caused you any hurt or negativity! I am truly very sorry and will no longer interact with your blog out of respect to you.

I appreciate your reply to my first original request so much and I’m genuinely so sorry if I made you feel like I was trying to exploit you or your kindness!

Anyways regardless, you’re such a talented writer and thank you for creating so much positivity and joy through your writing and generosity! I apologise again and wish you the best!

Hey my love! I'm not sure why you're apologising at all, in my eyes there's absolutely no need to apologise! You are free to send the same request to multiple different people, as you said people mind take the request in a completely different direction to how i've written it and it can be interesting to see. As a writer, I don't find it rude or disrespectful at all for you to send the same requests to multiple blogs so if I gave you that impression I apologise. I'm not sure if another blog has said something to you about it either and that's why you're apologising but in my eyes, you've done nothing wrong.

I've been running this blog since I was 16 so 2014 and the amount of requests I've had that have also been sent out to others is a large quantity. People have accused me of copying and stealing ideas etc but I don't listen to that.

You are allowed to send the same request to multiple blogs. It's not rude, it's not disrespectful. You admire different people's blogs and therefore you admire their different writing styles and the way they might interpret a request different to the likes of me. You've in no way been rude or disrespectful at all! There is no law in place to tell you that you can't send the same request to multiple blogs. I for one don't think it's rude at all so please do not feel like that when visiting my blog.

You've not been a bother, you've not been pestering me. I actually enjoyed to see your asks because you were always very lovely and kind so please don't think negatively like that.

The reason I haven't done your other requests is simply time. I go back to work on Monday and have been busy all summer so my time has been fairly limited so although I wish I could do every request I get, unfortunately I can't. I'm sorry you couldn't see these requests written but I do save them for a rainy day if I ever have time and inspiration to write them at a later date!

Again, you have no reason to apologise. You've not done anything wrong and you are allowed to send the same request to multiple people. If someone has told you otherwise, in my opinion, they're wrong. There's no law about it. You are well within your own rights. Hell, I've sent the same request to multiple blogs before!! I like hearing the different ways people interpret requests that's all!

Anyway, don't apologise, you're fine! Have a lovely weekend and take care, lovely. Feel free to always send requests to me, I may not do them but I do keep them aside for a rainy day like I said. xxx

[mercale]

Hiii!! I read your thinkfast fictions and I wanted to tell you that I love them!!! I wanted to ask if you are going to update them. Thank you

Hello Anon.

Short answer: yes.

Long answer? Let's have a really real discussion here for a moment. I have a feeling you're asking this because you follow my Ao3 account and I posted something for another fandom last night with a note that I'm going to post it daily for the next week to completion. If this is not what triggered this ask, feel free to disregard everything I say next. But if there's even a chance that is what motivated this comment, I beg you to read on. And for people that don't follow me for Thinkfast writing, it's probably a good read for insight into fan writers also.

While I am not going into details in any way shape or form, things have been very hard for me these last three months. Hard in ways that are my personal business but that have undeniably affected my writing. The thing I posted for the other fandom is literally the first time I have been able to put words down in a creative format for three months.

If you knew me IRL, you'd know how shattering that is to me. Writing is not just my hobby. It's my vocation and aspiration. I have not been able to write a single word for my novel in three months either, which is a project nearer and dearer to me than anything.

I was terrified of putting that piece of writing up last night. Because I was afraid someone was going to show up and ask why I was working on that and not something else. The answer is simply because things have been very hard. And being able to write something, anything was just shy of a miracle. It gave me a small boost in confidence and hope for myself.

A question like this, therefore, hurts. Loving my work is this great thing. It makes me feel good. It can be a confidence boost. But I know I am far from the only writer who gets a comment that basically summarizes to 'update soon plz' and is left a bit more broken by it. No matter how softly it is phrased.

I will return to my Thinkfast fic. Do not worry about that. All of them. I intend to finish out my fills that were requested. I will be finishing the Omegaverse one. I will finish The Space Between. But the first task I have to do is get myself to a position where I can write at all. And the first step in that is putting down literally anything that I am capable of, no matter the source of the inspiration or where it leads me or what ends up on the back burner.

Again, if you didn't ask this because of the other piece being posted, I'm sorry to have accused you of this behavior. But given how terrified I was posting the first piece of writing I've done in almost a quarter of a year and how proud of it I was to have written anything, I'm very sensitive at the moment. This is not meant as me as a person biting the head off of someone, though. It's meant as a 'sometimes the way things are said, while intended in good faith, are damaging. please let me explain to you why.'

In general my advice to ALL CONSUMERS of ALL FAN CONTENT is to find a way to scrub the word 'update' from your lexicon unless it's specifically following a statement like 'omg i loved this update and here is why'.

You'll do a lot of good by your fellow fans in this way.

[cosmosoracle]

I will admit that Rasmia is revealing herself to be far more patient than I could expect. Despite having put this before the negotiations for my scarf, she's not putting any pressure on us - on the contrary, she's pretty much leaving us be. I have returned to lean against Echo's chest, eys half closed, trying to reorganize my thoughts as best as I can.

Echo is here. He came so far from Deadbridge just to make sure he could call me back if no one else could take care of it. This place is protected, but he completely disregarded the consequences of exposing himself to possible researches of the ones looking for him with dangerous intent. It always worried me; even when I asked him if I could use his office to try and contact gods so that no one else could trace my activities, I would make things as quick as I could make them, so that he could return to stay there. And yet, this constricting lifestyle is taking a toll on him and his body, not to mention how he longs for home. Hearing him talk about the Moonpool Causeways was moving; that's why I swore to myself that, before I die, I shall make sure that he's free to do as he pleases, being freed of his burden and of his chains.

But then, a flash crosses my mind, and I turn back to the witch. She's witnessing personally how important Echo turned to be for me. I see her observing us... "So, now we can get back to what we interrupted," she reintroduces the topic again with a smile. I lock eyes with her, not escaping from her prying gaze, and she lightly raises her chin. "Which were you offerings again?"

I take a moment to rebuild a proper answer, but a sigh blocks me first. My tentacles drop a tad, and I narrow my eyes, looking elsewhere. I'm not feeling defeated yet, but there's no good in not being honest with myself, and her. "Echo is not up to trade. If this calls our deal off, I'll make sure to find something more valuable for you, but I'd rather not make you waste time."

She almost squints at me with a chuckle and tilts her head. "I've come so far for this to happen, and I told you I'm in a good mood; I'm not letting you go without anything, but you will have to work extremely hard from now on to find something more than this to satisfy me."

She is... right. I know she's right. Even while discussing with her, I haven't even stopped holding him. It's going to be a challenge even for me... but if this has to be my last deal with the witch in order to protect him, then so be it. I return to her with my eyes. "Well then, let me tell you about my options again. I can either share about my experience in the afterlife and show you how uncommon it has been, or I can give you the memories of the reason why I'm roaming the lands in the first place."

I feel my heart sinking to the hypothesis of having to lose so much, but one thing consoles me. No matter what I'm going to give up upon here - my actions will not be erased, and what I did well will not be forgotten by anyone else. Nor I will lose my drive to keep making the good difference that always defined my ways to act, because even if that may be how it started, it became so much more solid with this journey.

Plus... I don't even know if I'm ever going to meet Igris again. My only regret is to never have spoken again to him after he left, but he was the one going without an explaination, and no clue about it was ever given. It must be how it was meant to be; maybe he just didn't even want me to know... If we do meet again, we will have to start over, but if our connection meant anything then it's going to be worth investing in again... it'll be on him, and I can trust him with that... even if he turned his back on me, right...?

The doubt gnaws at my soul, but I can't afford to falter, especially to the response I get: "Why not both?"

Echo can easily feel me become rigid in his arms. He's watching over me and following the back and forth, but he's clearly decided to not interfere. He's just offering me support through my choices, no matter how difficult they may be, and I'm grateful, because this is something I need to deal with and be convinced of on my own. "Both? Don't you think that the vision of the other side and everything that happened to bring me back to life without a ritual is a tad too much on the balance?"

But her silver tongue slashes again. Her position of power is undeniable, and I need the godly gift back. "Oh dear, if these conditions are too much for you, nothing forces you to do it. You can keep your precious memories, and I will keep my scarf."

I squint at her - it was never her scarf. She's that confident that I cannot refuse this, however, and sadly she's right. What a stab... "...would that much be enough...?"

In the meantime, she snaps her fingers, and from between the piles of trophies she earned in time, I see the scarf emerging and flying to her. She caresses it with a mumble as if it was a beloved pet. I follow it with my gaze, observing the fine blue cloth decorated in shiny fish scales, as pretty as they're cutting. A bladed dancing scarf indeed, but such a beautiful one. Perfect for me. "Mhh, yes. I mean, you know what I'm really interested in; the other thing is more of a whim."

I'm so well aware of that, but I... cannot. I lower my head for a few moments. Then I turn to Echo; I steal one more quick kiss before leaving his embrace and fully turning to the timeless woman. "Fine."

The pleasant smile turns into a sinister shade of a smirk. "State the terms of the deal then, very clearly."

I take one more deep breath. "I offer the knowledge of my experience in the afterlife, from the moment I closed my eyes to when I opened them again..."

She waits for the rest, victorious. "And...?"

While my voice gets unsteady, the words still come out unmistakable. "...and the memory of Igris..."

"For...?"

"For my scarf."

She seems to close an eye on how she dislikes me talking about my scarf, since she really considers it hers at the moment. But what does she care about it now? A magical glint crosses her irises.

"Deal. Closer, if you will."

She beckons me with a hand, and I obey. I walk by her side with my head high; I don't need to remind myself why I'm doing this. It's going to be my last chance at life. My last chance at solving my duty and fulfill my mission, for the gods and for the Soulless. For my teammates and my loved ones. I must be ready, and so I am. She casts her spells on me: first, I get the glimpses of my meeting with the brothers, the conversation with the Man in Red, and Pharasma's severe figure looming over me. Then, I get a glimpse of my whole life...

Since I can remember, I felt myself being drawn to the stars. It was an irresistible call which made me restless in the water cage that Jaha and the Lake were, more and more as I grew up. I would surface to stare at the infinite night sky, observing every star as if I could attune to it even when I didn't know much more than its beauty; I counted so many meteors over the years, and observed the Moon traversing its course time and time again. I did it from the waters, from the shores; but it was never enough, until the right moment to answer the call arrived. I had no more place to call home or return to; all I had was the guidance of the asters watching over me. So they led me to Vrath, where I met Azemondeus, Hoyt; my journey began, and along the way I made friends and fought enemies. When Azemondeus left, Zinnya arrived. Love bloomed along the way, and achievements adorned my crown of experiences, up to this day.

I feel invigorated. This is what I fight for. Rasmia heaves a sigh of satisfaction, and the scarf flies in my reach. I take off the common one which accompanied me so far, and I finally wear it again with a moved smile... and hold its ends tight to my chest.

[mistchievous]

I really do try to stay open to discussion and correction, and after your response here, I do think you’re correct about that DM excerpt. I’ll be completely honest, it did seem to me and to everyone else who saw it that they were talking about Jee, not continuing to talk about their cousin. But I can see very easily how we may have misread that.

We probably didn’t put enough thought into the translation aspect of things, you’re right. And that comes from a place of ignorance of DeepL, and in some cases (like my own), privilege. Not an excuse by any means. Just a fact. For me, the he was just a typo, and I disregarded it completely.

(Or at least I don’t know much of anything about DeepL. I can’t actually speak for other people.)

So, I do think you’re right about this, and I think I owe that artist an apology for it. I do plan to make one more public post about this and have turned off reblogs for my previous one if you saw the anon post I tagged you in. I don’t want to delete it. That’s disingenuous, and I want to be as transparent as I possibly can with people. I’ll just put an edit on it directing to the new post with the links.

I think people on either side of this will probably continue to go around in circles about their perceptions regarding Jee’s skin tone and how it should be represented, which is something I mentioned in that other post. I don’t think anyone’s mind is going to change on that, so I don’t know how much further discussion there really is to be had. But I do think it’s important that this artist’s words and intentions aren’t misrepresented by myself or anyone else. I’m going to make a post linking to all of the relevant posts on their blog (I’ll get the links from other people since I’m blocked) and mine, so people can see where we misstepped in communication as well as the different opinions on Jee and where their cultural background comes into play with it.

I also feel like it’s important that I tell people not to attack this artist because I’ve gotten some messages that make me think that this has been happening, and that’s not okay.

If there’s anything else you wish to say to me, please feel free.

Hey! I saw your post about pururing's account, and that your post has been reblogged by lots of people who I pretty much always agree with (including you). So I went to the account's posts and scrolled down, expecting to roll my eyes, shake my head, etc.

But as I read the artist's and others' most recent responses, I started thinking about art forms like Kathakali (I'm South Indian) where face paint of different colours is used as narrative devices and to represent characteristics. If I were to represent a 9-1-1 scene in Kathakali style, I'd need to depict faces of certain characters with colours like white, yellow, black, red, etc depending on the character and their role in a particular arc. So an actor who is portraying someone of Asian descent might be shown with yellow paint on their face to depict not their race, but their gender.

The Western-gaze would see this as "yellowface" and offensive. But shifting perspectives and taking into account the background of the artform and the artist would clarify that this is a difference in context.

I don't know if there is a right or wrong here. If a show began in a Western context and depicts the Western context, does that mean Western audiences can demand that it never be depicted in contexts they're unfamiliar with? Do artists have to stay true to the context of the artform, or do they stay true to the context of the subject being portrayed? Even if this question doesn't have a binary answer, what's the difference between acceptable and unacceptable practices, and who gets to have a say in deciding that?

I just think that these are the more pertinent questions that need to be asked and discussed in this situation. By narrowing things down just to whether that artist was right or wrong without considering such nuances, I feel like we're all risking being smugly superior without realising that we're actually in a bit of an echo chamber.

Hi, anon! I want to thank you for this message. Truly. I do think we sometimes find ourselves in an echo chamber. It’s for that reason that I try to be careful when I make posts like that. I rarely reblog callout posts, and I rarely make them. This is the third one I think I’ve ever made, and I can’t think of any I’ve reblogged off the top of my head.

Callout posts to me only become necessary when you’ve exhausted all other options. And in this case, I only made it myself because it seemed as though those speaking out were being ignored – including people of color. I know that a lot of that has to do with how heavily some of those blogs block and how much they’ve been blocked in the past. So, I chose to make a post under my own name because I knew more people would see it. From what I understand, while a few people do have me blocked, I’m not widely blocked in this fandom. All that being said though, posts like this can still be incendiary and dangerous, and I don’t make them lightly. It’s why I tried to keep my explanation and language as mild as possible while explaining the issue at hand.

That being said, because I approached it in that manner, there’s a lot that the general public isn’t privy to just by scrolling that person’s account.

I’ll start with what you are privy to and how I think it’s different from the Kathakali style you refer to in your message. The defenses this person gave to their coloring choices have little to do with culture and more to do with style and perception. They pulled stills from the show in an attempt to explain the color palette they used, but as an example, in this picture here, Jee is clearly lighter than Maddie, her white mother. And you can see in real reference photos using these actors that this is not the case. That is just a fact.

They didn’t explain away this issue with cultural artistic differences. They explained this issue using pictures and color picking and defending their perception with some alarming messages in DM.

That brings me to some information you were not privy to. This is an example of one of the messages I was shown in private by someone who was trying to talk to this person one on one about everything going on here.

They state that they drew Jee that way because she’s lighter than her parents, which is just a bizarre and untrue statement to make - particularly in reference to Maddie. But then they went on to say she’s going to get lighter as she grows older. Even if that is true (which I don’t see why it would be because what?), it has nothing to do with her skin color now.

A lot of this artist’s work is limited to black and white sketches. But if they’re going to choose to add color to their work, it should accurately represent the people of color they're choosing to portray regardless of the artist’s own skin color.

I understand this is a different style of art than the art we normally see, but I don’t see how that would change the fact that twins that play Jee should not be portrayed as whiter than Oliver Stark and Jennifer Love Hewitt who are both white actors. It’s kind of a manga style from what I gather, but from everything I know about that, it shouldn’t have an effect on coloring choices.

And again, the artist themselves says they colored Jee lighter because they perceive her to be lighter and think she will become lighter. That is… problematic to say the least.

It is still complicated though because I think you’re right about Western vs. Eastern art forms and gazes. I really do. I’m a white woman from the West, and that skews my perceptions immensely. I try to understand things as best I can, but I’m not perfect, and I know I’ll make mistakes. But I do not see how the art form here makes the work immune to criticism.

What I know and what I knew before making that post was that there were enough people who were upset by it that it deserved being looked into. And then so many of those voices were being lost in the void that I wanted to do what I could to help. That may not have been my place. What I knew was that my voice would have a greater impact though, and so I used it.

I personally believe this artist to be in the wrong, especially after being shown some of the messages they sent in DM, but the question of what’s acceptable and unacceptable and who gets to have a say in deciding that is a complicated one. I normally wouldn’t feel I personally should have shared an opinion here at all because I’m white and from America, but when other voices are getting lost, what do you do? Do you stay quiet? Maybe I should have, but that’s not the choice I chose to make.

I do encourage everyone to look into the situation for themselves and make determinations for themselves, even if I put a bit of a spotlight on that person’s blog and voiced my own personal opinion. But everyone should definitely realize that what you’re seeing on the public blog isn’t all there is. Not by a long shot.

I really hope I answered some of your questions and that this made some amount of sense.

Please feel free to message me again on or off anon if you want to discuss it further or if you think I've made a mistake. That goes for anyone. My DMs are open.

[graphitesatellite]

Okay alright!

So I have a request!

For the arcana, either the main 6 or the main 3, could you maybe write a headcanon where mc gets hurt really badly and the li has to take care of them please? I don't know if you do that, because it is a little angsty, and potentially a little gorey too, but if you do, I would really appreciate it! Thank you!

Oh, and your work is amazing, by the way! Like everything you post is so good to read! I really love it so much!

jdhdjdkshsj omg anon you are too sweet, thank you so much <3 stuff like this keeps me writing

for the record im almost always down for angst, so no worries there, and as far as gore goes I can handle blood and vague viscera but I just Do Not fuck with detailed descriptions of organs (think the pinkie pie cupcake creepypasta, shit scarred me for life)

so yeah I’m gonna hurt mc pretty bad but hey at least they’ll never get disemboweled :)

content warnings: severe burns, broken bones, blood, bugs, and vomit

Asra

it happens so fast — so fast, nobody can tell exactly where it started. After such a dry summer, all it takes is one spark to turn the maize maze into an incinerator.

you entered separately this year, figuring it would be fun to meet each other in the middle and find your way back out together. It was a good idea in theory, and you were enjoying yourselves until a voice somewhere shrieked, “FIRE!”

the flames tear through the dry maize like it’s tissue paper. You’re surrounded in an instant, and Asra is beside himself because he doesn’t know where you are, or how to get to you. That doesn’t stop him from sprinting through the maze, completely disregarding his own well-being as he calls your name, choking on smoke and the inside of his own throat. Magic surges through him, acts on his instincts. It might be the only thing keeping him alive.

he finds you unconscious in a dead end, trapped on three sides by towering walls of fire. His heart hammers so hard it hurts. You’re so still. Are you breathing? Images flash behind his eyes: fine sand, charred bone, ash. His panic overwhelms him, and he blacks out. Next thing he knows, he’s laying on cool ground, somewhat singed but mostly okay. A few kind strangers kneel over him, encouraging him to relax and breathe. He can’t do either until he knows what happened to you.

the good news is you’re alive; somehow (try as he might he can’t recall the details), Asra managed to drag you out before the flames engulfed you entirely. The bad news is you sustained severe burns across your legs and torso. It’s painful to look at, and Asra finds himself thankful you’re still passed out. That feeling is quickly displaced by the urge to get you home and make you better, as better as his magic will allow. Exhaustion be damned.

one of the bystanders offers a free ride to center city on their wagon, and Asra graciously accepts. He spends the entire time hunched over your unconscious form, gently smoothing his hands over your burns, again and again, like they’re stubborn wrinkles in a piece of cloth. Each pass restores your skin a bit more, building it back layer by layer. It’s gruesome work, but by the end you look mostly okay. Covered in scars, but okay. Alive.

back at the shop, he’s not convinced he could carry you up the stairs in this state, so he drags some bedding down and makes a nest in the back room, surrounding you in the softest blankets and pillows he can find. Only then, after he’s sure you’re cozy enough, does he take a pause. It’s so quiet here. No crowds of concerned onlookers, no squeaky wheels or braying animals. Just him, and you, breathing. Hot tears well in the corners of his eyes. He stifles a sob, catches himself on the edge of a table as a wave of dizziness rushes over him. He really overdid it. The last thing he wants is to take his eyes off you, but on the verge of passing out, he settles down at your side, lays his head on your chest, and quickly falls asleep to the sound of your beating heart.

some time later, when you come to, confused and panicking and weeping, he doesn’t feel rested, but he sits up anyway. You need him more than he needs sleep, as far as he’s concerned. He takes your face in his hands, whispers assurances that you’re okay, you’re safe, you’re home. You swear you feel your skin smoldering. Asra shows you the fresh scars, gutted by the fact that while he can heal your physical wounds, he can’t magic away the trauma. That’s something you’ll have to work through in time. That’s something he’ll help you navigate, one step at a time.

Nadia

maybe what stings the most is how preventable the situation is — the puddle of water you slip on could have, should have been mopped, should have been noticed by someone and taken care of before it caused an issue, but for whatever reason, it wasn’t. It’s an untraceable failure Nadia nonetheless blames herself for when it throws you off balance and sends you tumbling down the grand staircase.

she watches it happen, notices the puddle just an instant before you do. There’s not enough time to warn you, not enough time for her to reach out and steady you, but she tries. You slip, she cries your name, the tips of her fingers graze your shoulder as you topple over and fall, fall, fall… it takes so long for you to fall. You seem to bounce off each step, limp as a ragdoll by the time you hit the bottom with a sickening thump. She runs down the stairs after you, almost loses her footing and collapses next to your prone form. You don’t respond to her voice, nor her touch. She cradles your head to her chest as she calls for someone to help.

it’s a miracle you didn’t split your head open. You’re covered in bumps and bruises, and a few of your ribs might be cracked, but Nadia is, at the very least, grateful you’re not hemorrhaging from a head wound. She refuses to move until a doctor examines you, deeming you unconscious and badly hurt, but alive. Then, with the help of palace staff, she lifts you off the ground and carefully transfers you to bed.

You sleep for several days. It kills Nadia that she can’t ask if you’re comfortable, if you need anything. She tries her best to do what she thinks you would want, lighting your favorite incense, gently washing your face, sitting with you and holding your hand as she reads or fills out paperwork. Any meeting she can’t take in your room is swiftly postponed or canceled. Her duties as countess are important, and she takes them very seriously, but they’re not more important than you. Nothing is more important than you.

she wears a very brave face around the staff and doctors. To them, she seems perfectly calm, a portrait of composure. In private, she’s never felt so scared, so helpless. She wants to fix this, but she doesn’t know how. She doesn’t think she can. There’s so little she can actually do for you right now. She needs something to do, something concrete and direct, something to make her feel useful. But all she can do is putter around, and wait. It’s her own personal hell.

the day you wake up is easily the second happiest day of her life, right after the day you got married. Your eyes crack open, you whisper her name, and the tears are instant. She can barely keep from smothering you in kisses. She helps you drink, pets your hair as you adjust to the waking world once again. You reach for her hand and ask how long you’ve been out. She answers, and you, shocked, ask if she’s been with you the whole time. But you already know she has. The look on her face, the love in her eyes, says everything.

Julian

you don’t remember the name of the bar — it can’t be the rowdy raven because you’re not currently in Vesuvia, but it’s a similar sort of deal, the kind of place where “unsavory” characters hang around and “make trouble,” mainly by drinking violently strong alcohol and bickering over card games. You and Julian have your own booth, and you’re a couple drinks deep, teetering on the edge between tipsy and buzzed when you decide a game or two of cards might be fun.

half an hour later you’re on a hot streak and the other people at the table are starting to get pissed. You excuse yourself from the next round to use the restroom, giving Julian a kiss for good luck. When you return, he’s raking in the pot, and you’re so happy for him that when you go to sit down, you don’t notice the guy next to you pulling your chair away. You lose your balance and fall backward, throwing your arm out to catch yourself. Big mistake.

you land hard, all your weight coming down on your forearm, which buckles with an awful crunch. There’s no doubt that it’s broken, but you don’t realize how bad it is until you sit up and look. Julian is at your side in an instant, wincing at the unnatural angle, murmuring it must have been a clean break before asking the guy what the hell he was thinking. The guy gets defensive, saying it was supposed to be a joke, you don’t have to be all up in arms about it. The rest of the table laughs. Julian seethes. You can tell he’s about to do something reckless, so you tug on his coat with your good hand and tell him you just wanna get out of here. He shoots the table one last withering glare before he helps you up and leads you out of the bar.

the adrenaline of the moment wears off while you walk, so by the time you make it back to where you’re staying, you’re in incredible pain. Julian ushers you to the bed, sits you down and gently takes your arm. After an excruciating moment, he tells you he’s going to have to set it, and it’s unfortunately going to hurt. A lot. You hate the sound of that, but you tell him to do it, get it over with. He asks if you want him to count down, you say no. He asks if you’re sure, and before you can fully say yes, he sets the bone, and you pass out.

when you come to, you’re tucked into bed, arm splinted and wrapped. Julian dozes in a nearby chair, an open book in his lap. He startles awake when you try to sit up, tells you not to exert yourself, asks if you need something. You tell him some water would be nice. He brings you a glass in record time, carefully props you up so you can comfortably drink. His touch is so mindful it borders on reverent. Teasingly, you ask if he treats all his patients this way. He quirks a brow at you, then grins his signature grin, saying other patients have to pay extra for the special services he gives you. You try to laugh in a way that doesn’t jostle your arm too badly.

Julian’s expression falls in a very sudden, very familiar way. You cut him off before he can even start, firmly telling him this isn’t his fault and he better not start apologizing. Basically pouting, he asks if you’re sure it’s not at least a little bit his fault. You give him A Look. He sighs and glances away, softly admitting he doesn’t like that fact you got hurt when he was right next to you, and there was nothing he could do. He just wishes he could have protected you somehow. You understand this, you really do. It’s horrible to feel helpless when someone you love gets hurt, but you remind him he’s not entirely helpless. He made you better, didn’t he?

after a pause, he says he hadn’t thought of it that way. A smile creeps up his lips, and with a chuckle he says he’s glad you’re around to help him think straight. Smiling right back, you tell him you’re glad he’s around to make you better. He promises he will always make you better, whenever you need him, no matter what, and you know he means it with all his heart.

Muriel

it’s a beautiful day — the sky is clear, the sun is bright, the air is warm. The forest around you seems to glow green with exuberance. What a perfect day to go fishing; or, more accurately, what a perfect day to visit the river with Muriel and watch him fish. He’s better at it, anyway, and you’re having a good time balancing on big rocks at the edge of the water in the meantime. They’re a bit slippery, but you’re pretty confident you won’t fall. And if you do, it’s not like it’s a long way down. What’s the worst that could happen?

from the middle of the river, Muriel frowns as you walk across the rocks like you’re a performer on a tightrope, his heart spasming each time you pause and sway. He audibly sighs in relief when you make it to the other side, then tells you to please be careful. You flash him an impish grin, saying not to worry, you’re being so careful. As you do, you take a blind step forward. Your foot hits one of the rocks at an angle, and your ankle bends in a way it’s not supposed to. You pitch forward, falling first onto the sharp rocks, then into the shallow water below.

you hear Muriel call your name as you fall, and you’re underwater for mere seconds before he’s at your side, lifting you out. He holds you mostly upright against his chest, rubbing your back while you cough up a mouthful of river water. You cling to him, shivering from the cold, ankle throbbing. The rocks scraped you up pretty bad on the way down. You feel the sting of small wounds along your face and arms, though none of them hurt as bad as the area right above your knee, which struck the rocks most directly. It’s hard to tell how bad it is, but judging from how it burns, it must be big.

Muriel lays you on some soft grass under a nearby tree. His eyes are wide with panic as he looks you over, and once he gets to your legs, he freezes. With some difficulty, you push yourself up to see what he sees. That’s… wow, that’s a lot of blood. That’s so much blood, gushing from your leg. It makes you woozy, so woozy you lose all the strength in your arms. You drop backwards onto the ground, snapping Muriel out of his trance. He takes a deep, deep breath. When he exhales, his expression is less horrified and more… determined. Resolute. He rips a strip from his shirt and ties it tightly around your leg, apologizing softly when you whimper, telling you he’s going to get you home, and you’re going to be okay. You believe him wholeheartedly, and when he picks you up again, you let yourself relax against him. You’re so tired. You’re so cold. You tell him as much. Holding you securely, Muriel takes off running for the hut.

by the time he gets you inside, you’re barely conscious. The makeshift tourniquet has slowed your blood loss significantly, but not entirely. Muriel peels the wet, stained clothes off you, his shyness overpowered by the need to save you, whatever it takes. Then he lays you on some furs by the freshly-lit fire, letting you warm up while he gathers supplies to clean and bandage your wounds. He doesn’t say much as he does, mostly urging you to stay awake, to keep looking at him so he knows you’re awake. You try your best. You really, really try, but you’re just so tired. A solid black curtain falls over your vision. Muriel’s voice grows distantly frantic, but you’re too far gone. Blobs of color swirl beneath your eyelids as you slip from the waking world.

next thing you know, Muriel’s cradling you against his chest, hopelessly bargaining for your life, saying he’ll do anything, give up anything. He only stops when you manage to wheeze out his name. Then, after a pause, his shoulders shake, and he heaves a great sob. He pulls back to look at your face, sobbing again when he sees your open eyes. You realize he’s wrapped you up burrito-style in the softest furs you have, making it somewhat challenging to wiggle your arms free, but you do, and you reach up to hold his face in your hands. He leans into your touch like it’s his salvation, and honestly, maybe it is.

he weeps another moment or two, letting you wipe his tears with your thumbs. When you think he’s nearly calmed down, he asks, voice cracking, that you please never, ever do that again. You agree immediately, and you tell him you’re sorry. Suddenly puzzled, he asks you why. You say you’re sorry for worrying him, and he tells you that’s just the way it is, he always worries, especially when it comes to you, it’s nothing you can control or have to be sorry about. Still, you should have been more careful, and you promise him you won’t put either of you in that situation again. Muriel finally starts to relax. He thanks you, tells you he loves you. You ask him to say it again, pretty please, and when he goes pink, you giggle.

Portia

following an unmarked, unfamiliar trail through the woods maybe isn’t the best idea — but it’s certainly an adventure, and it’s one Portia is excited to share with you.

though you’ve taken plenty of hikes together, you’ve never come across this trail before. It branches off the main path suddenly into a deeply forested area, so naturally Portia wants to see where it leads, if anywhere. It’s not the most outlandish place she’s taken you. You don’t get a great feeling from it, but it’s not like the two of you are helpless. It should be fine, you think, and soon as you make up your mind, Portia happily grabs your hand and pulls you in with her.

the first moments are uneventful, which feels like a good sign. Portia wonders aloud what you might find, throwing in a few ridiculous ideas just to make you laugh. You easily slip into some banter, then some flirting, then some flirty banter. It’s turning out to be a pretty fun time when you feel a sharp pinch on your leg. Then another. Then another. Ow. What the hell? You look down, expecting to see some sort of nettle, but it’s so much worse than that. Bugs. So many bugs, crawling up your leg. You scream. Portia turns to see what’s wrong; she screams louder.

before you can react, Portia takes off running in the direction you came from, pulling you by the hand so you’re forced to run with her. The pinching travels up your legs, across your waist and your back. You try to shake the bugs off, but it’s difficult to do without stumbling. Portia just manages to keep you upright until you emerge onto the main path, where she grabs the first leafy branch she finds and uses it to sweep the little bastards off you. Every now and then she beckons you forward a few steps, stomping at the ground to kill the persistent stragglers. Each sting throbs in time with your rapidly beating heart; you’re sure you can feel them swelling.

you’re also sure you can feel more bugs on you, crawling across your skin, under your clothes. You swat at yourself in a panic. Portia hurries you along, telling you it’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay. You have a hard time believing this, but you trust her. Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, you make it home. Portia starts stripping you down before the door’s fully closed, and even though you don’t see any bugs, you can still feel them all over you. You squirm, squeak out a sob. Portia checks you over, tells you finally that they’re all gone, despite what you feel. She asks that you stand still for just another moment so she can remove the stingers. You do, though it seems like you stand there for much longer than a moment, flinching as Portia gently scrapes a playing card again your skin, apologizing each time, promising she’s almost done, almost done.

the pain is constant and burning. You nearly weep when Portia finally leads you to bed and helps you lay down on your stomach. The cool sheets provide you momentary relief while she rummages around for some sort of soothing balm. You close your eyes, take some deep breaths, try to accept the fact you’re safe now. Portia warns you before she touches you again, which you appreciate. She takes a damp cloth to your skin, cleaning each sting and dabbing it with a bit of balm, helping you roll over so she can get to the ones on your front as well. You close your eyes as a wave of nausea passes over you. You tell Portia you might vomit, and she passes you an empty container just in time.

once you’ve emptied your stomach, Portia takes care to wipe your mouth, and only then do you notice the tears on her cheeks. She blurts out that she’s so, so, so sorry. If she hadn’t urged you down the trail this never would have happened, but it did, and now you’re hurt because of her. You tell her she couldn’t have known, it’s not like she did it on purpose. And yes, it hurts, but its not permanent. She supposed you’re right… but insists that since it was her mistake, she’ll take responsibility by caring for you until you’re better. She asserts she won’t let you raise a finger, and really, you don’t think you can argue with that, even if you wanted to.

Lucio

I don’t wanna put a bunch of effort into writing a serious one sees for him cuz I don’t think he’s capable of taking care of himself much less anyone else

if you want my honest opinion on how he would handle an injured MC tho, I think he would whiff it super hard, try to make it better himself even tho he has zero (0) grasp on medicine and would end up making it worse. Like if you don’t bleed out or die from shock, you’ll succumb to infection within days. Dumbass doesn’t know how to properly clean a wound, he only knows how to hurt. It’s the only thing he’s good at.

[raggaraddy]

Mouthy

Prompt: You say to Yandere BTS "Oh my god! Just shut up!"

A/N: Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this laying in bed. I hope it's not some sleep-deprived nonsense ^-^

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, emotional manipulation, choking, non-con, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic.

Alpha! Namjoon

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You scream it through your bedroom doorway. Storming to the railing of the stairs, you lean over and scream again. "Shut up!"

The sea of people on the ground floor go quiet. Only the music dares to keep making a sound in the background. You skulk back to your room, slamming the door loudly behind you. You had had a long, disappointing day. You were tired and grumpy, and moody and sad. But the dozens of uninvited pack members couldn't care less as their party raged on into the night.

Not allowing you enough time to even climb back into bed, Namjoon storms after you to address your outburst.

"Y/n, go downstairs right now and apologize." He orders.

"No." you mope. Feeling it's a wildly unfair request. All these people are in your house making so much noise when you're trying to sleep. How is it you that's in the wrong?

"Do you think I am asking you? I'm telling you. Get downstairs now." He says sternly. His strict tone making you even more emotional. You just wanted him to be on your side for this.

"But- But I," you sniffle, with tears in your eyes.

"No," Namjoon cuts you off. "I've asked you all afternoon what's wrong. And you wouldn't tell me. So right at this moment, I don't want to hear it. You have been disrespectful to me and my people. So you are going to put some more clothes on and cover-up, and you will go out there and apologize to every single person." He growls, leaving no room to argue. "And you will do it sincerely, or I will give you something to cry about."

King! Seokjin

You didn't say it to his face. You would never be that stupid. But still, you clearly weren't smart enough. While gossiping to a friend, someone you thought was a confidant, you're complaining about a seemingly endless, boring meeting you had to serve today.

"And I just wanted to tell all of them; Oh my god! Just shut up!" You laugh. 

But hours later it's no longer a laughing matter.

"How did you enjoy serving me today, Princess?" Jin asks his tone giving nothing away of what he already knows.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you, your Majesty" You politely smile, thinking his question to be a kindness.

"I often find these meetings so dull. Many of the Lords do like to ramble on. Sometimes I would enjoy telling all of them to just shut up." He speaks the words so purposefully that you know at once you've been exposed.

"My Lord, I-"

"If you are smart you will not say another word." He speaks softly, with a grin on his face. "I want to thank you, Y/n.  I have an endless supply of other people I can hurt. Each one of them is freely at my disposal, but you are my favourite toy." He fills the space in front of you. "However, I am a man of my word. I swore to you that you will be unharmed if you are obedient, and I would not dare to break this vow. Of course, I have sorely missed playing with my beloved little dol, though."

Towering over you he sets off your instinct to get to your knees and grovel, begging his forgiveness for your carelessness. But that would only be a wasted effort.

"So thank you, Princess, for giving me the possibility to hear your pretty cries of pain again. I will make sure to use this opportunity to its fullest."

Assassin! Yoongi

He had been in a hyper mood for 2 days straight. His energy and enthusiastic interaction was something you always craved, but you had never dealt with it this long before and you were losing your sanity and your composure.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You shout at him as your last nerve snaps.

"Okay, Y/n." He gives little to no reaction. "Remember you said this in a month from now when you're begging me to speak to you."

But it didn't take a month. In two weeks you were in tears apologizing. He left you free to roam the house, but he revoked all communication from you. The only times he gave you any attention, was when he forcibly made you stop doing something he didn't like. Or when he wanted you for sex. But still, he wouldn't utter a single word, only bending you over to take what he wanted.

After 5 weeks, just as you thought you'd never hear his voice again, he finally broke his silence. Only to break your heart.

"Listening to you these past few weeks, I realise how much you talk. It's time you take your own advice and shut up. Y/n, I don't want to hear a sound out of you until I say. 5 weeks was easy enough for me. So let's start with that, and then I'll see if I want to hear from you yet."

Vampire! Hoseok

Hoseok was always so animated. Normally it didn't bother you, but he was talking and reacting through yet another movie and you were sick of it. It might have been because you were PMSing or maybe because Hoseok had forgotten to feed you all day, but when he yelled at the TV, you yelled at him.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" And right away you were teeming with regret.

"I'm sorry baby. Am I being too loud?" He laughs with an unexpectedly harmless reply. Playfully but roughly slapping his hand on your thigh. "I'll keep it down."

You're not dumb enough to think that your eruption would go unanswered. So you sit tensely, anxiously waiting to see how he will repay you.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear, after sitting in silence for 20 minutes. "You know I have very strong hearing right?" You nod nervously. Chewing your lip. "Well, your breathing is too loud and very distracting. I can hardly hear the movie. Can you please fix that?"

You know this is going to lead to something horrible, but you have no choice but to do as he says. For the next 10 minutes, you're completely distracted trying to inhale and exhale as softly and shallowly as possible.

"Hmm baby, it's really too much. I can't concentrate on the film." He stands, pulling his belt off. "Here let me help you."

He wraps his belt around your neck, pulling and setting it so tight that it's biting into your skin. Your throat constricting, barely letting you breathe.

As you wheeze and splutter and cough, he holds the end like a leash. Sitting back on the couch, he turns his focus back to the movie without letting you loosen the strap or get away. Your whole body is shaking, your eyes starting to roll back as you struggle to inhale. The belt is cruelly not tight enough to have you pass out though. Only allowing you to sit in your suffering. The sound of your gasping filling the room.

"Ahh, there you go baby. That's much better. Don't worry, it's just while we're watching movies. And there's only two more left in the trilogy."

Playboy! Jimin

He was telling you over and over how sorry he was. How he didn't mean to kiss that girl. That he was drinking. And that she kissed him. It was every excuse and lie he had spouted 100 times before.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You yelled at him. And for a moment it worked. He sat in stunned silence. But as you got off the bed to leave, taking your car keys with you, he chased after you.

"Where are you going?"

"Out Jimin. I need some time alone to think." You scowl.

But he refuses, blocking the door. Holding his arms to either side to barricade you in.

"No, you can't leave! I said I'm sorry."

"Fuck off Jimin, your apologies mean nothing." You say shoving him.

He doesn't accept that. With a roar, he grabs your shoulders throwing you down onto the bed. Quickly straddling you, using far too much force to keep you pinned beneath him. Tearing off the pillowcases, he makes some shoddy but effective restraints. Tying you to the bars on the headboard.

Ignoring your screams and how you struggle he starts to kiss down your neck, pulling at your clothes, rubbing his hands down your body.

"I'm gonna make you feel good Y/n. I'll show you that I only want you, then you'll have to forgive me." He says sounding desperate and unhinged.

You cry and yell for him to stop, trying to buck him off you, but his hand covers your mouth, his other successfully tearing down your panties from under your dress.

"Don't fight me, Angel. Just let me in. And I'll prove I love you the most."

Dom! Taehyung

Finally, Taehyung had agreed to spend some time with you in a social environment. He and you went out to a movie and dinner with some of your friends. They were vanilla friends though, so as an exception, for the day he loosened a lot of the restrictions and formalities you normally had in place.

You, however, you were getting a little too relaxed. While you joked with you're friends, you started to speak to him the same manner. As you and he were playfully arguing about trivia facts you realized you were losing the debate.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You joke. But in the company of your friends or not, Taehyung was not about to let you disrespect him. Even in jest.

"Is that how you should talk to me girl?" He asks loudly and in front of everyone, bringing the group conversation to a grinding halt.

His change in tone and his use of the possessive pet name, right away have you back in your place.

"No," you whisper. The sting of embarrassment hot upon your cheeks.

"No, what?" He pushes it.

You can't stand to look up. All of the attention is on the two of you. And even in your peripheral, you can see your friends looking at you judgementally, wide-eyed and in shock.

And he was making it worse by having you use his title around them.

"No, Sir." you surrender, your head hung low.

"Shouldn't you also apologise to the other people at the table? For interrupting our night with your rudeness." He keeps piling on one shame after the other. Stretching out the ordeal.

"No, it's fine." One of your friends tries to laugh off the awkwardness and speed the discussion away from this point. "She doesn't have to."

"Y/n," He prompts you, disregarding what your friend had said.

Thoroughly humiliated, you can't imagine how you are going to repair these relationships or explain this treatment away.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the night with my rudeness." you swallow heavily, hands shaking.

"Good girl. Now mind your mouth. Before you make me embarrass you further."

Mafia! Jungkook

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" you say in a hushed voice. More of a prayer said to yourself than an actual demand you expected Jungkook to hear.

"What did you just say to me?" he lowers the phone, gawking at you.

You really didn't mean to, it just slipped out. He was talking on the phone, going into too graphic detail about how he and his men dealt with a threat recently. You couldn't handle the gruesome details he was recanting anymore and the words just fell out.

"What did you just say? Did you just tell me to shut up?" He repeats again through your nonreply. His tongue running through the inside of his cheek, his jaw and muscles tensing. His voice jumping rapidly from stunned to aggressive.

You're at home alone with him, so you weren't paying much mind to what you were saying. But this afternoon he's been dealing with work. And right now he isn't Kookie, no the person in front of you is Jeon Jungkook. The temperamental Mafia head, who would as likely hit you as he would speak to you.

"I'm sorry," you squeak.

"You're sorry?" He scoffs, slamming the phone down. "If you had said it and meant it, that would be one thing. I could respect that. But you really just can't control your stupid little mouth can you."

"I-" you start a defence, or more a plea for mercy.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growls leaning forward in his seat making you flinch back. Darting his hand out he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back to where you were. "Don't flinch. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help you." He smiles.

You wriggle in his clutches, mewling the same trifle apologies under your breath.

"Shhh, my brainless little Kitten. I'm gonna give you a gift." He smirks. "For your own safety, you don't need to talk for the rest of the day. I just need you to come when I call. Sit on my lap when I tell you. And purr for me like a good little pussy." Grabbing your arm harshly, he yanks you off your chair and onto the ground. "There you go, where you belong." He laughs. "You think you can remember to do all that? I know you can. Otherwise, I'll buy you a kat collar to remind you how my Kitten should behave."

[free-pool-trash]

dancing with our hands tied - peter maximoff

here it is you guys... the ✨very spicy✨ sequel to delicate which can be read here <3 (had to keep the rep song title theme going here)

please for the love of god let me know how this is I’ve never written smut before so please go crazy with the asks/comments/reblogs on this one I’d really appreciate it😩😓

word count: 4k 😳 (it’s not all smut dont get too excited)

warnings: +18 content, sexy times, unprotected wrap it before you tap it, swearing, i tried to keep vulgarity on a low level but i decided to just commit towards the end lmao, insinuation to sex from the beginning , some fluff and a tiny bit of angst sprinkled in there too, wandavision spoilers

You can definitely read this as a stand alone but it’ll make more sense if you read delicate first !! enjoy <3

masterlist

The days you spent in WestView had been tiring. Wanda seemed to be losing her composure with each day that passed, you watched how she became more and more skeptical of Peter and found yourself growing all the more anxious with the situation you’d run head first into. But, you were with Peter, your mind and his mind were free of Wanda’s influence and she’d been kind enough to appoint the pair of you your own house in the neighbourhood, a few doors down from her own, so, you couldn’t complain too much.

Today was a relatively quiet day, but you had a feeling that just meant you were in the calm before the storm. Tonight was, apparently, Halloween. Despite the fact that it was nowhere near October, you were more than happy to play along with Wanda’s over the top festivities.

Peter and Tommy had just zoomed into your and Peter’s bedroom, sporting matching outfits and excited expressions as they looked at you expectantly, “Well? What’d ya think?” Peter asked, motioning between himself and Tommy. The littlest speedster awaited your answer with wide, hopeful eyes, wanting validation from his cool uncle’s even cooler ‘friend’.

Yeah, you’d made out on Wanda’s couch but you still hadn’t addressed the question of where exactly your relationship stood. It felt as though the pair of you were both actively avoiding the awkward conversation, opting instead to simply fall into bed together every single night and completely disregard the boundaries of friendship in favour of hearing each other moaning until the early hours of the morning.

With a smile you let out a low whistle, “Looking good boys. I gotta say, Tommy, I think you’re outshining your uncle right now.”

You had to laugh when Tommy smirked triumphantly at Peter, “I told you she liked me more than you.” He boasted proudly and your laughs grew louder when Peter huffed angrily. He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his bottom lip out childishly.

“Y/n, tell him you like me more.” Peter demanded, again, childishly.

You only grinned, “No comment.” You told him airily, making your way to your closet and hesitantly pulling out the latex costume Wanda created for you off of the rail, holding it by the hanger skeptically.

It was Peter’s turn to let out a whistle when his eyes scanned the skimpy looking leotard suspended by the hanger. The fabric mimicked the design of Peter and Tommy’s outfits although it seemed Wanda had gone out of her way to make yours ever so slightly sexier. The leotard was strapless with a sweetheart neckline and a silver lightning bolt ran through the light blue material. The only saving grace was the silver tights that hung from the hanger as well, at least you’d have some kind coverage. With one last peek into the closet, your eyes landed on a pair of white, knee high gogo boots.

“Christ…” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing at the thought of wearing the ensemble out in public, if it was cold tonight Wanda would be in for an aggressive telling off. With a deep sigh you turned to the two speedsters who were both staring at you, waiting for you to say something. “I guess we’re all gonna be matching tonight.”

“Sweet!” Tommy exclaimed while Peter only smirked. Peter, with a lot of effort, moved his attention from your costume to his nephew.

“Why don’t you go hang out with your brother for a while? I gotta talk to Y/n for a sec.” Tommy welcomed the suggestion, only nodding his head before he had sped out of your house and back to his own.

A gust of wind hit your face as Peter sped himself in front of you, the man didn’t hide his intentions as he gripped your hips and pulled you flush against him. Swaying his body against yours and bringing his lips to the exposed skin of your neck. He trailed his lips up your neck, sucking and nipping, smirking when you let out small noises of approval. When his lips reached the spot behind your ear, he gave a final, harsh suck which had your breath hitching and whining when he pulled away.

To be honest, you’d love to be able to call him your boyfriend and be certain that he thought of you as his girlfriend, but at the moment you were perfectly happy with whatever the fuck the two of you had going on if it meant you could keep feeling him against you like this.

“I cannot wait to see you wearing that.” He all but groaned against your ear, his voice deep and gravelly. The butterflies in your stomach went feral at his words and you had to pull your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from letting out a moan from his tone of voice alone, not to mention the fact that his crotch was pressed up against yours, he was excited to say the least.

Your hands slid up his chest and settled on either side of Peter’s neck, you gently pulled his head out from the crook of your nape and teasingly raised an eyebrow at him, “Maybe later I’ll let you help me get out of it.”

A wicked grin spread across his lips, he squeezed your hips in response, tugging you into him even further for some kind of relief then pressed his lips to yours briefly, murmuring against them, “That’s definitely a plan I can get behind.”

Giving him one last kiss, you pried his hands from your hips and pushed him away, “Alright, get lost I need to get ready.”

“Meet me at Wanda’s?” You nodded at his question, letting out a deep sigh you hadn’t noticed you’d been holding when he finally sped out of the room.

After a second of cooling down, you pulled on the outfit and you’d be the first to admit; Wanda knew what she was doing with this one. You looked incredible, albeit a little stupid in the costume, but still incredible.

When you made your way over to Wanda’s to meet up with the others, you let out a laugh seeing as Wanda was essentially wearing the same outfit as you, only with the added extras of a cape and gloves.

“Hey! Why are you dressed the same as Uncle P and Tommy?” Billy asked you curiously, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he glanced between you and Peter for answers. The speedster in question was smirking proudly, his arm finding a spot wrapped around your shoulder.

“Because she’s totally obsessed with me.” He lied with an over dramatic sigh, causing Tommy to laugh.

You rolled your eyes, elbowing him in the ribs playfully before focusing your attention onto Wanda, “I think it’s safe to say that Wanda and I will be winning best couples costume.” Wanda gave you a knowing grin and a not at all subtle wink in response to your statement.

“Only the best for the best.” She replied, walking forward and linking her arm with yours, stealing you away from Peter who whined in protest, “Oh hush, you can have her back later.”

Telepathy definitely had its perks, one of those perks being you could tell there was more to Wanda than just being an evil puppeteer. The two of you got along extremely well, you were actually growing to see her as a friend. It helped that you knew her story, though. You sympathised with her, knowing full well that if you lost the love of your life you’d probably create a false reality to be with him too. You’d already followed him into a fake reality so you supposed it wasn’t really too much of a stretch to imagine yourself in Wanda’s position.

As the night went on, yourself, Wanda and Peter were sitting around in town square, the twins having run off somewhere. Tensions were high between the interreality siblings at the minute, Peter seemed to be having the time of his life getting on Wanda’s last nerve, poking and prodding at her lifestyle choices.

“Lay off, Pete.” You warned quietly, your stare serious as you felt Wanda becoming impatient with the mutant. Your breathing stopped for a moment and you let put a horrified gasp, your hand clapped over your mouth as you stared at the image in front of you.

Peter’s skin was grey, his eyes were milky and he was littered in what you could only assume to be bullet holes- he was dead- no, you realised as you caught Wanda’s pained expression, he was Pietro.

Wanda regained her composure after a few seconds but the sight of Peter dead was enough to shake you to your very core and you found yourself shaking where you stood.

You didn’t even have a chance to regain your composure before shit had hit the fan. It had happened in a blur, Billy and Tommy were frantic and worried about Vision being in trouble and next thing you knew Wanda was sending Peter flying with a ball of energy after he made a smartass comment about Vision not dying twice.

Quickly, you ran to Peter’s side, he was groaning in pain and looking up at you through squinted eyes, “What the hell was that all about?” He grumbled, hiding his head in your lap when you got down on your knees beside him.

With a sigh you let your body fold against his, wrapping your arms around him and letting your head rest against his shoulder, the image of him bleeding out still too fresh and real in your mind. You could berate him for his brash behaviour another time, for now though; you just needed him close.

“Come on, dumbass. Let’s get you home before you decide to cause more trouble.” You mumbled, pulling him up with you. Ignoring his whining while you led him home, your arm remained firmly around his waist the whole way despite the fact he’d recovered from the blast Wanda dealt him after only a few minutes.

When you got back to the house that Wanda had deemed yours upon your arrival, you finally allowed yourself to breathe. Peter was staring at you with a guilty expression as you released a heavy breath through your nose and shuffled into the kitchen, the heels of your boots scraping on the hardwood as you walked.

Like a lost puppy, Peter followed you. Once he reached you lent against the sink he wrapped his arms around you from behind. He knew you weren’t angry at him by the way your arms immediately moved to grip his and tug them tighter around you.

“You know, her real twin- Pietro… he died,” Peter’s face contorted in confusion when you began to speak, he listened with concern as he could already hear your voice beginning to shake, absentmindedly he caught himself tucking you closer against his chest. “For a second… you must have said something that hit a nerve but for a few seconds…” Your voice hitched and you shook your head in an attempt to knock the image out of your mind, though you had a feeling it would haunt you for as long as you lived. When Peter noticed you’d started chewing at your bottom lip, as you always did when something was causing you anxiety, he gently turned you around in his arms so that he could look at you, his arms remaining firmly around you, yours finding a place resting against his chest.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He cooed, his eyes very much alive and staring into yours.

Swallowing thickly you answered, “You looked like him. You were dead.” You told him quietly and he was sure the look of grief on your face, brought on by the thought of him dying, would haunt him for a lifetime.

Your eyes watered as you took in his face. Scanning every part of it, his brown eyes that made you melt, the dimples that could still be faintly seen even when he wasn’t smiling, the lips that took up the vast majority of your thoughts and that tiny furrow between his brows as he looked down at you with worry.

You loved him.

Of course, you’d known this for years. But you needed him to know, and even though you were already well aware the overwhelming feeling is mutual, you needed to hear him say it.

His thumb running under your eye pulled you from your thoughts, “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He whispered softly, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb ran back and forth over your cheek bone. Your stomach flipped at the pet name and you nuzzled against his touch.

“Good. I don’t want to lose you ever again.” You confessed, looking up at him through your lashes fondly as his lips formed an almost sad smile.

Gently, he brought his lips down to meet yours, pouring his heart into the kiss, hoping it would make up for the turmoil he felt responsible for causing you. Too soon, he pulled away.

“Believe me, I’m never leaving your side. I mean come on, I’m without you for like three days and I end up being mind controlled by my sister who isn’t even my sister.” He chuckled out, a grin growing on his face as you began to smile too. He let his eyes close blissfully when you brushed your nose against his, a toothy smile on your face.

“You, Peter Maximoff, are completely hopeless.” You whispered through your smile as he opened his eyes to look at you. His own face sporting an adoring smile.

Your heart skipped a beat the second his next words passed through his smiling lips, “Without you, Y/n L/n, yes I am.” Within a second your arms were around his shoulders and your lips were moving frantically against his. Peter’s hands wasted no time in sliding down to your thighs, gripping them and propping you up onto the kitchen counter.

Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist and your hands got lost in his hair, keeping him as close as humanly possible while his lips migrated to your jaw.

An appreciative hum left your throat as he lapped at the underside of your jaw, leaving a mark before trailing his lips back to your mouth. His tongue licked at your bottom lip as he kissed you, moving it into your mouth the first chance he got. Peter moaned into your mouth when you gave his tongue a light suck.

You grinned at the sound and leaned your weight forward so you were primarily resting against his body, your arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body, your ass barely resting on the counter by that point. Welcoming your movements, Peter’s hands glided up from your thighs to grip your ass and pull you from the counter completely.

He carried you clumsily through the halls of the house, bumping into furniture and pausing to press your body against walls, his eyes closed and lips never separating from yours. You were about a foot away from the stairs when you felt your back make contact with the plaster behind you, your chest heaving when Peter abandoned your lips in favour of littering wet kisses across your chest, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake.

You let your head fall back against the wall, enjoying the sensation of Peter nipping and licking at your skin, the man diving back to your neck as soon as he realised that your head thrown back made it entirely exposed to him. You released a breathy moan when his lips ghosted over a sensitive patch of skin, he moved his tongue frantically and you shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath hitting your bruised skin.

“Peter…” You whined when he pushed his crotch up against yours, pressing you further into the wall smirking against your neck when you called his name.

“Yes?” He asked teasingly, rutting his hips against yours once more, deliberately attempting to pull another moan from you, he obviously succeeded. His smirk broadened when you let out a huff and tugged his hair so he’d look at you.

Peter swore he was in heaven when his eyes met yours again, your face was red and your eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide with lust as your chest heaved. He could’ve exploded on the spot when you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth and looked at him innocently, all the while grinding your hips slowly and firmly against his. Peter clenched his jaw and let his eyes fall shut, his hands gripping your hips so tightly that you were pretty certain the area would have bruises come tomorrow. You were struggling to care about that though, focusing your energy on the man who had you pinned against the wall.

You brought your lips to Peter’s neck, repaying the favour, not detaching until you left a dark, albeit small, purple bruise on the underside of his jaw. Deciding to prolong the teasing for a little while longer you moved your lips up and let them hover by his ear and you began to let out soft little moans in response to his grinding, the action caused Peter’s movements to become more frantic and your lips to form in a smirk as you felt him hardening against you.

His breath was laboured when he murmured, “Let’s take this upstairs, yeah?” Before you could even answer he had sped the pair of you to the bedroom and you let your feet return to the floor.

As he stood in front of you, you took him in, swollen lips and Halloween hair completely tossed, not to mention the tent in his trousers that was very visible despite the layers of his costume. When your bodies collided again, it was a frenzy of hands, the both of you practically tearing the fabric off the other until you were in nothing but your underwear, kissing sloppily and stumbling towards the bed.

Peter’s lips attached to your chest again the second your back hit the mattress. He groped at your right breast while his tongue sucked on the other, swapping over before you pulled him back up to you.

The way he slotted between your legs and how his forehead rested on yours felt so perfect, you couldn’t help but grin.

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” He muttered between kisses against your lips, his hands kneading your breasts as he did.

You were practically dripping by the time his hand slid down your stomach and under the band of your underwear. For someone with super speed he was moving agonisingly slow at the moment, his hand rubbing languidly over your wet core while he swallowed your moans.

“Fuck- God, Peter please.” You whined, your hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more friction than he was giving you.

The sound of your voice, so needy for him, was all he needed before he was pulling your underwear off, tossing the thin material over his shoulder haphazardly and shimmying out of his own boxers, clumsily kicking them away from his ankles, earning a giggle from you.

When he kneeled on the bed between your bent and separated knees you sat yourself up, sliding one hand up his bare chest and resting it against his shoulder while the other slid downward, only stopping once it was wrapped around his shaft. Peter sucked in a harsh breath when your began pumping him softly, the man completely losing it when your thumb swiped over his tip collecting the precum that had gathered and using it to wet the length of his dick as you continued to fuck him with your hand.

As much as Peter was loving the image and feeling of you jacking him off, he knew if you carried on he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Still, he didn’t have the heart to pull your hand away when you were making him feel so good. His head found it’s favourite spot in the crook of your neck and he groaned out against the skin that was littered with little purple and red marks from his earlier work, which he’d be sure to admire later, “Shit, Y/n-“ He croaked through a moan, hands gripping your hips as he fought the urge he had to thrust into your hand, “M’not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that.” He groaned out, almost reluctantly, not truly wanting you to stop while simultaneously craving more.

You stopped your motions at his statement, giggling when he let out a strangled noise of disappointment at the sudden lack of pleasure. Doing the honours, you lined him up with your entrance, letting him take over when his lips connected with yours.

Peter gently pushed you back until your head was resting against your pillow and your back was flush with the mattress. His lips continued to mesh with yours as he pushed into you inch by inch until he bottomed out. The deep groan he released was music to your ears and your hands gripped his biceps when he began to thrust in and out.

A symphony of moans filled the room as Peter had managed to set a steady pace, trying his best not to let his mutation get the best of him, as much as he wanted to just go to town he was determined to make you feel as good as you made him feel and judging by the way your head was thrown back and his name fell from your lips like a prayer; he guessed he was doing an okay job.

In only a few minutes Peter had you gasping and clutching onto him like your life depended on it as he picked up speed, one of his hands reaching down between your bodies to rub your clit, his hips snapping against yours. Soon enough, you felt the pressure in your stomach release, your walls clenching around Peter’s dick as your back arched and you released around him. After only a few more staggered strokes, Peter moaned your name against your lips, finishing inside of you and thrusting lazily, riding out his high and subsequently helping you ride out yours.

You let out a blissful sigh when Peter pulled out and rolled over to lay on his back beside you, his chest heavy and his blonde hair sticking slightly against his forehead.

“That- that was awesome.” He mumbled, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding your hand by his side.

Over the last couple of nights you and Peter had, admittedly, ended up in a similar position but neither of you intended for it to happen. It’d usually start off innocently enough, with cuddling or just talking and then one of you would move in just that little bit closer and things would escalate. But there was something about this time that felt a lot more emotional than the few times before. “It was.” You agreed with an airy giggle, squeezing his hand affectionately.

A gust of air shook you from your haze. Peter had taken it upon himself to clean up the mess the pair of you had left between your legs, a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts now adorned your body matching him as he wore the same.

He was on his side facing you, his arms holding you against his chest securely the same way they had the night you’d shown up in WestView and urged him to kiss you. When he took you in, he kicked himself for missing out on so much of you for so long.

He was certain, one of these days he’d actually speak the three words that followed him around whenever he thought about you, but as he watched your eyes flutter closed, he decided the words would be best spoken some other time. He was well aware you already knew, just as he was well aware that you loved him, it needed to be said. Eventually, but not quite yet.

[dr0wning-in-hell]

Wonder - Peter Parker

Summary : During a heated make-out session while studying Peter gains the confidence to move things forward with his girlfriend Y/N, relating in some steamy sex.

Word Count :1.8k+

Warnings : SMUT!! Making out, fingering, oral(f), cursing, sexy times all around my friends, dirty talk, literally porn with no plot

Pairing : Peter Parker x reader

Prompt : “91 and 100 with peter please!” - anonymous |91. “Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you would taste like..” |100. “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this, just for me.”

A/N : Y’all I’m really trying to post more I promise, I just haven’t felt like myself so I have like no motivation for anything. I’m super sorry. But please enjoy this post!!

New masterlist | prompt list | color prompts

Peter and Y/N had stopped studying about 15 minutes ago, and now all their school work was on the ground and Peter was holding Y/N in his lap as their lips were tangled together. Absentmindedly, Y/N started grinding down onto Peter’s crotch, resulting in a low groan to escape his mouth.

“Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you would taste like...” Peter mumbled against his girlfriends’ lips. She pulled back and looked at him, wondering if he was really serious.

“Are- are sure? Are you being serious?” Peter nodded, his hands still holding Y/N close to his body. 

“I know I’ve been hesitant to uhm- do it, but I love you so much and I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I’m ready. I’m ready to do this with you,” Peter watched as Y/N smiled widely before nodding and kissing her boyfriend. He smiled back against her lips before starting to lay her down on the bed. Their hands roamed each others bodies as the air in the room grew thick with the smell of lust and sex. The two teens grew needier, tearing the others’ clothes off to leave scratch marks and hickies along their newly exposed skin. 

Peter stared down at his girlfriends’ body which made her a little subconscious as she was thinking that he he didn’t like what he was looking at. “So fucking perfect,” He said lowly, “And all mine,” His hands went to grab at her covered chest, quickly disregarding the material and letting his hands hold the soft flesh. Y/N stifled a groan as he massaged her breast and pinched at her nipples. He could tell what he was doing to her and in one swift motion he lowered his lips to her hard nipples and sucked on them hard enough to leave hickies.

Y/N couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips after that, the new sensation of his lips around her, the soft biting, it felt so new and so good. After leaving two extremely large purple bruises on her chest he moved down and continued to litter the marks down her body. When he reached the area where he knew she need him the most he took his time in teasing her. 

Peter ran his fingers along her clothed clit, applying just a little bit of pressure. He watched as Y/N squirmed under him, her legs tensing at the new feeling. 

“No teasing,” She groaned. “Please, I just need you.” 

“Is someone a little needy? Hm? Does someone need to be taken care of?” Peter whispered as he lowered his head closer to her heat. He watched Y/N nod her head, her pupils blown wide as she waited in anticipation to see what he was about to do. Slowly pulling down her panties he discarded them and stared at the sight in front of him. He felt his pants tighten even more causing him to rut his hips against the mattress. This was something new for the both of them and even though they hadn’t gone that far yet they could both tell they weren’t going to last long.

Peter licked his lips before laying his tongue against Y/N’s slit, spreading her folds as he tasted her for the first time. Y/N’s body lurched forward, a loud moan falling from her lips at the sensation. Peter grinned and continue to lick at her cunt, sucking both folds every once in a while and then releasing them with a load ‘pop’. 

“You taste like heaven,” Peter groaned as he continued to lap at her folds and feel her aerosol fall onto his lips. “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this, just for me,” he mumbled against her lips. After feeling arounds for a few more seconds he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked it into his mouth. 

Y/N’s mouth fell open, a silent moan failing to escape her throat as it got caught. “F-fuck, Peter. Feels so good, fuck- pl-please I need more,” She begged, her hands going to push themselves into his brown locks and pull even closer. The chuckle that fell from Peter’s lips vibrated against her skin, causing the hairs on her body to raise. Peter pulled his mouth away just enough to start pushing one, then two fingers into his girlfriend’s leaking hole. He watched in amusement and lust as her tight hole seemed to swallow his fingers, just begging for more. Peter curled his fingers, hitting the soft, spongey spot inside her. Based upon her reaction of her back arching and a squeal erupting from her, it was no doubt that he just found the perfect spot inside her.

“Does that feel good, angel? Do you like my fingers spreading you open?” Peter taunted as he sped of his fingers. Y/N could only nod as the feeling was too much and she could barely remember to breathe. The boy’s eyes watched her body twitch and spasm, her legs closing tightly around his fingers as a sign she was about to cum. His head fell back in between her legs, his tongue finding and available space against her cunt as she came without warning. Her juices leaked onto his hand as he slowly moved his fingers from her core, licking them clean and then going back into her core to taste her even more.

Y/N watched as he tasted her, his pupils blown to cover his entire iris. It was a sinful sight, one only she got to witness. When Peter was done with his mouth he pulled his lips up and along her body, leaving wet and sloppy kisses all across her body until he reached her lips. He captured her mouth within hers, both of them moaning against each other as she tasted herself against his lips and he let her take control of the kiss. 

After a few moments he pulled away so he could take off the remainders of his clothes and grab a condom. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t have to do anything else.” Peter asked as he stopped himself from pulling down his boxers.

“I want this, please, I want to feel you inside me.” Y/N begged, her mouth watering at the thought of what his cock might look like. She watched with sharp eyes as he pulled the last bit of material from his body and his aching cock finally sprung free from it’s prison. Peter let out a deep groan as his hand just barely touched himself. Without wasting any more time he ripped the foil package open and slowly rolled it onto his shaft with a hiss. Peter climbed back over Y/N’s body that was now covered in a thin layer of sweat and Peter’s drying kisses.

“I love you so much,” Peter mumbled as he pressed a long and slow kiss to her lips.

Y/N grinned, “I love you more, but if you don’t put your cock in me I’m doing it myself.” Her comment made Peter laugh, but he nodded as he sat on his knees and pulled Y/N’s hips up to wrap her legs around his waist. He teased her hole at first just to annoy her, but then finally began to push into her tiny entrance. Y/N gasped, her hands going to grip his biceps as he pushed in till he was balls deep in her. They were both panting heavily, their breathes fanning against the other’s skin as they waited a moment. 

The nod Y/N gave Peter to start moving was all the conformation he need to start. His hips moved slow at first, going all the way into her hot heat before pulling out and continuing his movements. The sounds Y/N let out were uncontrollable but they only urged Peter to go on. After finding a steady rhythm he began to move faster, his hips becoming flush against his girlfriends’ as he tried to get as close as he could to her.

“You feel so good around me, angel. Fuck, just swallowing me up. Such a greedy whore.” Peter grunted as he pounded into her core. 

This new side of Peter was completely different from the shy kid who would barely kiss her in public, and it made her heart speed up. “So big,” Y/N whimpered, her eyes glancing down to look at where their bodies connected. “Can’t believe we waited so long. Don’t think I ever want this to end.” 

Peter’s hips stuttered a bit but as he moved to bend her legs to her chest, getting a deeper angle. He hit the special spot inside her, causing her Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, letting out the most pornographic sound either of them have ever heard. His face was right above hers. his lips ghosting hers and giving her just enough of a taste that it left her wanting more. 

Peter fucked into her cunt harshly, chasing both of their releases. Y/N whined loudly, her hands going to reach for Peter’s as she pulled him against her. “ ‘M gonna cum, fuck- want you to cum.” Peter nodded and pressed his lips to her, trying to maintain his speed.  

“I’m right there, fuck, cum for me angel. Want to feel you milk everything out of me.” That was all she need to hear as she clenched hard onto his cock, her back arching and body spasming as she came from her high. Peter came right after, his hips stilling inside her as he released his load into the condom. He could feel her tighten around him just a little bit more as they finished their highs, both panting in exhaustion. 

Once Peter caught his breathe he pulled out slowly and watched his girlfriend’s slick slide down her thighs. After discarding the condom he went to the bathroom to get a warm cloth and clean her up. Y/N whimpered at the contact and tried to pull away but Peter gave her a scolding look as he cleaned her up. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” Y/N yawned and snuggled up to her boyfriend while he crawled under the covers. 

He chuckled a bit and wrapped his arms around her, “That’s alright, I’ll carry you everywhere.” She grinned, her eyes falling slowly until they were closed and she was asleep, Peter soon following her.

[salty-rey]

Come Back | Bad Batch Fan Fic

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

Words: 1748 words

Warnings: Angst. Reader gets hurt, mention of blood

A/N: I gave you romance with Fives last time. Now, time for some PAIN!!! I told yall I wanted to make a Bad Batch fan fic, I just didn’t expect my first one to be like this. 

Pretty short, I wanted to write it down before I lose any inspiration, and I have to get back to my finals. 

Hope you guys like! 

(gif courtesy of @clxnewxrs​ )

- - - - - - -

This plan has gone to crap!

It was supposed to be simple. Get into the command center, retrieve the necessary intel, and get out. Something you’ve done many times before. Piece of cake! 

But last time you remembered, you did not have a child following you around. Omega insists on coming along, even going against Hunter’s orders. Because of her disregard of orders, she had tripped an alarm, alerting the guards to your position. But you couldn’t blame her. Even if she didn’t came along, something wasn’t going to go according to plan. She’s not a soldier and wasn’t trained like you and the rest of the Bad Batch. There were some tasks or missions that were fine for the young clone to come along, but this mission was more dangerous. 

One good reason why; Crosshair had finally tracked you down.

The Batch had split up during the mission, aiming to complete your objectives. Before you can all regroup, that is when Crosshair and his Elite Squad Trooper caught up to the group. And you had the unfortunate case of protecting Omega from the sniper, who was now standing in front of you. With the only exit blocked by your former comrade, the only way to escape was to shoot your way out or leap out an 80 storied building. 

“Crosshair, please! Don’t do this,” you pleaded, body shielding Omega as the young girl cowered behind you.

“I can bring you back alive,” The grey-haired clone spoke, raising his handheld blaster to your chest without hesitation. “Or in a body bag. Your choice, Freckles.”

You tense, staring down the barrel of the blaster, wondering for a second if it was put on lethal or stun mode. You felt Omega gripping your arm, sparing a glance at the child before looking back at Crosshair. His eyes held no remorse. There was no more warmth in those honey-brown eyes. Your heart shattered at the sight of him, your fists clenching to keep yourself composed. 

“This isn’t you, Crosshair. That damn chip is manipulating you!” You snapped, keeping your stance and hoping to buy some time for Hunter and the others to assist you. 

“You would have never shot Wrecker before, no matter how much he annoyed you. And you would never point a gun at me. Come back to us. We can find a way to free you from that chip. We know it’s not your fault, and we don’t blame you for your actions. Please,” you begged, your voice breaking a little as you reached your hand towards him. 

The clone stared hard at your hand, his shoulders tensed before locking eyes with yours. He can see the desperation in them, unshed tears causing your eyes to glisten. This was a familiar sight. Not too long ago, when all of you were imprisoned back on Kamino, you had the same expression. 

Crosshair was being taken away from the rest of the group for unknown reasons. Hunter, in his attempt to keep everyone together, received a harsh hit on his gut. The sergeant doubled over in pain, but no one dare moved to aid him as blasters were pointed at everyone. The clone shook his head at the sight of his sergeant before standing up. As he took one step forward, he felt a tug, keeping him in place. Looking back, he saw you gripping his hand with all the strength you have. 

You were looking up at him, silently begging him not to go. The corner of your eyes shedding small tears, your hand squeezing his ever so tighter. 

“Let’s go!” The clone guard exclaimed, his patience wearing thin. 

Crosshair felt something foreign in him, telling him to obey. He knows that he should stay. He knows that he should fight against these mindless regs. He’s not like them. He belongs here with his brothers, and with you. 

But, fighting the regs unarmed will just cause unnecessary casualties. And he can’t stand the idea of having his brothers’ blood on his hands. Especially a kid that is apparently a little sister. And you. 

The thought of losing you caused him to shiver in fear. An emotion that he rarely felt, until you joined the team. 

The sniper looked back at you once more, squeezing your hand in return. He gave you a reassuring look that was also apologetic and sorrowful. 

You knew that there was no getting out of this. That there was no way in saving him. With a heavy sob, you let go of his hand, allowing him to be taken by the guards. 

His hands were now trembling, causing the blaster to become unsteady. “Crosshair?” You said with uncertainty. The sniper’s eyes snapped back at you, having lost focus for a few seconds. 

“So, you miss me? How sweet,” he sneered, but his hands continued to shake. 

You relaxed your posture for a second, pulling your hand back before pressing it against your chest, right over your heart. “I have. So very much.”

Something must have snapped inside of the clone because his eyes became unfocused, and his hands were trembling harder. He was in pain, his free hand gripping the side of his head, eyes squeezing shut as the blaster fell from his hand. You watched as Crosshair internally fought against the inhibitor chip, hope slowly rising inside of you. 

As you slowly approached him, you failed to hear the thundering sound of boots approaching you. The only indication that you got was hearing Omega gasping before shouting, “Look out!”

The moment you spotted the Elite Squad Trooper raising his blaster, you felt the searing hot pain piercing your side, and a blood-curling scream echoed throughout the room. You fell to your knees, clutching your left side, where the blaster shot hit you. 

Luckily, you were wearing the specialized armor that the Bad Batch wear, so the blast wasn’t able to pierce the other side. But you can feel blood pooling out, and if you don’t get any aid soon, you’re going to die. 

Before the trooper can shoot you again, he let out a shout of pain as Crosshair’s fist collided with his buckethead before punching his gut. “I told you to stun the woman and to shoot the men!” He snarled before kicking the hunched-over trooper. 

As Crosshair’s attention was on the reg, Omega rushed to your side. Panting heavily, you grabbed a tool from your utility belt and wrapped an arm around the girl’s midsection. “Hold on...tight...and whatever...you do...don’t let go.”

“What are you---whoa!” Omega cried out as you picked her up and charged at the window. The girl screamed when your shoulder crashed into the window, both of you plummeting over the edge. Neither Crosshair nor the troopers reacted quick enough to catch you, watching the both of you fall to what appears to be your death. 

You reached out your arm, pointing your modified grappling gun, and pulled the trigger. The claw-like end soar shot through the air, piercing the closes building, secured in place. The pair of you swing through the cold night air, Omega’s arms and legs wrapped around your neck and waist. 

Before you could crash into another building, you released the trigger, the grapple unhooking from your end. You rolled onto the rooftop of a building, shielding Omega in the progress. Wincing, you got back on your feet, still holding onto the child, and continued to run away, troopers now shooting at you. 

“Tech! I need a pickup, NOW!” You exclaimed into your communicator. 

“We’re reaching your location!” His voice came through, and without another second to waste, you heard the engines of the Havoc Marauder. The ramp was open and both Hunter and Wrecker were there. 

Despite the searing pain, your adrenaline forced you to pick up the pace. Blaster shots were flying past you, and if you move any slower, you were going to get hit again. But you weren’t scared of being hit by the Elite Squad trooper again. No. You were afraid of a certain sniper. Deep down though, you had hope that he wasn’t going to pull the trigger on you. He had several chances to do so, but he didn’t. 

“Jump!” Hunter shouted as you reached the edge of the building. Mustering whatever strength you had left, you leaped from the edge, Omega’s arms reaching towards the Sergeant and larger clone. You collapsed into their arms, letting them pull you both inside as blasters were now hitting your ship. 

“She’s been shot!” Omega cried. Hunter and Wrecker saw your bleeding side, and with a nod from their leader, Wrecker picked you up as carefully as possible and carried you to your cot. “Echo, get over here now!” Hunter shouted before grabbing whatever medical items that they need.

Your armor was removed and Wrecker ripped the fabric of your blacks to expose your wound, allowing the boys to stop the bleeding. You cried out in pain, legs kicking and your hand gripping the first thing that came into contact, which was Hunter’s hand. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Echo reassured as they pierced a needle into your wound before spraying it with bacta. Omega stood at the doorway, hands covering her mouth, silently crying as the boys managed to stop the bleeding. Despite being their combat medic, the Bad Batch knew a good amount of medical aid before you arrived, but learned more when you became part of their team. 

“I can’t believe Crosshair shot her!” Wrecker growled as Echo placed a bacta patch to help quicken the healing progress. 

“I don’t want to believe either. But he shot you, didn’t he?” Echo countered.

“He...he didn’t shot me,” you groaned, your hand squeezing Hunter’s. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, no more talking. You need your rest, Freckles,” the Sergeant said, using his free hand to gently wipe off any sweat forming on your forehead. 

You ignored Hunter’s order and took in a deep breath before continuing. “It was a...trooper. Crosshair said...only to stun me and Omega...” You then looked back at Hunter, body feeling weak and vision getting blurry. “He’s still in there...fighting to come back....we can’t lose hope.” You managed to say that last bit before darkness consumed you. You slumped against the pillow, a familiar scent comforting you as you slept. 

The group watched you sleep, ensuring that you were okay before relaxing. Hunter slowly slipping his hand from your grasp before covering you with a blanket, Crosshair’s scent continued to engulf you. 

“We will bring him home. I promise.”

[rattyoakenbitch]

❝𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝❞ ─ 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

i don't want your sympathy, i guess ive had it rough but you don't really care

❥ content ; gn reader, eventual fluff, angst, pining, happy ending

❥ warnings ; injury, swearing, mentions of death

❥ synopsis ; when you get badly injured during a mission, only then does levi realize the depths of his feelings for you. now the question is, is it too late?

❥ a/n ; i don't have a taglist yet so feel free to ask to get added!

You glided through the trees alongside your team, adrenaline running through your veins.

Kicking yourself off a tree, you landed your body with ease onto a lone Titan spotted in the forest below you. With a swift swing of the blade, the Titan was on the ground.

Finished, you zipped yourself back into the air, joining your team member's formation as you all flew together.

"Y/N!" Captain Levi shouted, resent dripping off of his words. Here we go again. "Do not deviate from original course! We are here to scout, not to thrill seek."

The team came to a slow. They stood on the branches, overlooking the land beneath them.

"I was not thrill seeking, sir, I was doing my job," you defended, turning to Captain Levi. Though he was shorter than you were, his cold stare and unwavering demeanor intimidated you.

"Your job is to follow my orders, brat, not go off wandering like an idiot!"

"I didn't wander, I was quick to regroup! You're just finding a reason to take your anger out on me," you retorted. "Then again, I wouldn't be surprised. Considering your height, it's no wonder you can barely contain your anger in such a small body."

As much as he wanted to push you off the tree, Levi kept his poise.

By now the team could hear you and Levi's bickering, but considering they were used to it, they decided to butt out and focus on planning the route.

"Stable duty when we get back."

And then he walked away, leaving you fuming.

As you continued with the scouting mission, you encountered too many Titans that you couldn't just brush them off. Angry and left with no choice, Levi shouted orders to forget the original plan and fight back.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted two Titans approaching Jean and Armin with intent. You narrowed your eyes. This was your chance. You bolted off the tree, flying fast towards the two Titans. You got your gear out, ready to slice their napes, when one of the Titans looked your way, a sick smile on its face.

"Y/N!" Armin called out in a panic as the Titan extended its arm, swiping at you like a fly. Before its hand could collide with you, you were pushed out of the way by none other than Levi.

He wrapped his arms around you securely, one underneath your bottom and his other around your back. You heard him whisper a profanity, his hot breath fanning your neck as he spoke. Though it wasn't the time or the place, you couldn't help but let your mind wander.

You were brought back to reality when Levi glided deeper into the forest, setting you down onto the ground harsher than necessary.

Totally caught off guard, your back was shoved against a tree. Levi was quick to block your exits, predicting you would try to resist.

His arms caged you between him and the tree, leaving little to no distance between your bodies. You could feel your face get hot, either out of embarrassment or his body heat mixing with yours.

"What the hell is wrong with you, brat?!" Yelled Levi, eyes wild with rage. However, something felt different about this compared to when he scolded you for separating from the group. But you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"Me?" You scoffed. "You're the crazy psycho who stole me away and cornered me in this forest!" You pushed at his chest, successfully shoving him off of you. "I had everything under control."

"You were almost killed! I can't have reckless people on my team. I'm a captain, not a babysitter, so get your shit together or get the hell off my team."

You stood against the tree quietly, Levi's venomous words stunning you into silence. Levi continued to stare deep into your eyes, his expression never changing. However, as the seconds passed, you saw a sliver of regret in his eyes, lasting only for a mere second.

You took a deep breath, trying to choose your words carefully. "I- Just.. Why do you hate me so much?"

Levi raised a brow while you continued to speak.

"I know I'm not the best fighter. Not compared to Misaka or Eren. But what did I do to deserve so much hatred from you? Even when I'm not doing anything wrong, you look at me like I'm the most disgusting person you've seen."

Despite feeling a sting of guilt at your words, Levi put on a dismissive act. "Tch, you're being dramatic. I'm not about to discuss this with you."

Why the fuck did he say that?

"Maybe if you listened to me for two damn seconds you wouldn't get such an earful."

Why is he being such an asshole? Gods, just tell them already. Stop this bullshit.

No longer finding it in you to care, you began to raise your voice, angry tears spilling down your face. "I try my best to make you like me. I try to show you that I'm capable and strong, but you still treat me as if I'm inferior. Like my skills are nothing. Like I'm nothing."

Emotionless, Levi replied, "Because you are. Look at you. You're a crybaby. You should've stayed back." Lies. All lies.

"Ugh- well maybe you should've just let me get killed since you despise me so much!"

With that, you grab your gear and zip away as far from Levi as possible, tears blowing out of your face and into the wind.

"Hey, where are you going?!"

You ignored him as you continued to speed through the trees, searching for your team. Your friends. Anybody.

"Y/N! Look out!"

You heard Eren shout, making you spin around frantically to search for the danger.

There it was.

An Abnormal ran your way, crawling like a dog on its hands and feet.

It had been chasing the team for a while now, evident in its animalistic, hungry look.

Steadily hanging off a branch, you watch the Titan from afar, then look back at the team.

"I'll distract it! You guys go!"

They looked at you as if you had grown two extra heads.

"You'll die!" Mikasa argued. "We can take it!"

"Just go!"

The Titan started to get closer. The team looked behind you, then back at you. Though they looked ready and determined to take it down, you knew they felt as terrified as you were. Fighting Titans was just something you don't think you'll ever get used to.

"Please be careful. We're gonna find Captain Levi!"

You nodded, then turned around, watching as the Titan ran towards you, totally disregarding the rest of the team.

"You want me? Come get me."

When you decided it was close enough, you darted into the forest and soared through the trees, only narrowly missing them. The Abnormal followed you, but hit itself on the trees and destroyed many in the process.

While the Abnormal continued to run through the forest, leaves and trees blocking its direct vision of you, you took a chance and turned back, flying past the Abnormal.

You did a quick u-turn and hopped onto its back.

You got it now.

As it chased after nothing, completely unaware, you slashed the nape of its neck.

With you still on its back, the Titan went limp mid-jump, falling onto the ground hard enough to create an earthquake. Unprepared for the collision, you went flying off its body.

Instead of bracing yourself for the fall, you frantically reached for your gear in an attempt to glide back up to the trees.

Before you got the chance, your body met with the ground, a loud thud echoing from the impact.

In the distance, the rest of the team continued to fight until they got to the very last Titan. Levi, though he was the last to regroup, helped effectively take down the Titans.

It wasn't evident in his stoic expression, but he searched among his surroundings and the faces of his team for you, afraid the worst had happened. Dammit, why did he have to be such an asshole? What Levi said to you, he meant none of it. But he feared he wouldn't get the chance to tell you that. Idiot.

"Is everybody here?!" Levi shouted as his team gathered around him.

"Yeah, we're alive-"

"Wait, where's Y/N?"

The team began to search among themselves, now becoming anxious as well.

"Well, where are they? Did you not see them at all?" Levi asked in a calm tone, despite his heart beat pounding in his ears. No. He wasn't going to slip up. Not here, not now. He needed to remain strong.

Mikasa spoke up. "We last saw them when we were being chased by an Abnormal! They offered to distract it and take care of it themselves."

Levi shouted, a crack in his voice, "And you let them?!"

"Y/N is strong! One of the best fighters we have here," Eld said. "They've probably already taken it down by now."

"Then where are they?!" Levi growled, becoming more frustrated by the second.

"Hey, look!" Armin yelled, shaking his finger towards the steam in the distance. "Eld was right! Y/N did kill it after all!"

Wasting no more time, Levi commanded the team to follow him. Soon again, they were up in the trees, running your direction. They stopped as soon as they came across a clearing in the forest where the Abnormal laid lifelessly.

"Everyone! Find Y/N!"

The team split, searching the area for any sign of you.

Levi dreaded the thought of finding you like they found the Titan. No. You killed it. You had to be alive.

Levi repeated that in his head. You had to be alive.

Because if you weren't, he wouldn't know what he would do.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of panicked screams echoing around you. You pushed yourself off of the ground in a rush, only to stumble back with an agonizing scream, pain shooting up the lower half of your body.

"Fucking hell! Oh shit," you fell back on the grass defeatedly, hot tears welling in your eyes at the intense pain and aches across your whole body. "Dammit!"

You didn't know which bones were broken, where you were, if you were bleeding out. So you just laid there alone, helpless and numb. Waiting.

Just when the team was beginning to lose hope, a blood curdling scream echoed throughout the forest, easily catching the team's attention. They headed towards the source of the sound, but Levi was the first on it, already sprinting through the forest to find you.

When he did, he felt his heart drop down to his stomach. You laid in a small clearing behind some old trees and bushes, a puddle of blood beneath your body. Your uniform was torn and your 3DMG was rendered useless at this point. If not for the scream, or the fast rise and fall of your chest, he would've mistaken you for being dead.

Levi rushed to your side and got onto his knees, lifting up your body into his arms.

"Y/N? Can you hear me? Y/N?"

You coughed, wheezing and struggling to make a coherent sound. Blood dripped down the corner of your mouth as you spoke, "You were right, Captain. I never stood a chance, did I?Shoulda just stayed." You laughed pitifully.

Now Levi was angry, but not at you. "Shut up! Don't say stupid shit like that! You're going to be okay."

The team found you, stopping short at the sight of Levi holding you carefully, like a porcelain doll, ready to break.

He didn't care anymore. He didn't bother to put up a front. Not when you were like this, half dead in his arms. He pressed his forehead to yours, whispering in your ear so only you could hear.

"I can't lose you too.."

Everyone else only continued to watch the intimate scene unfold before them.

When you fell unconcious, Levi squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to keep his composure. Why was he acting like this? Usually he would be quick to solve problems without letting his feelings get in the way. Why was he so helpless now?

He turned around, scowling at the group who just stood by idly.

"Get over here and help them, you fools!"

You hated it. You hated having to be looked after or saved like a princess in a children's storybook. You didn't want to run away anymore, or simply stand in waiting, hoping for someone to rescue you. You were done being hunted. So you joined the Scouts after years of hard work and training. If you had only thought more carefully or put your parent's advice in consideration, you wouldn't be in your current situation, regretting ever joining Levi's team. You wouldn't have ended up in the infirmary.

You passed out in Levi's arms after suffering from injuries during your fight with the Abnormal Titan, according to your friends. They came by to visit you when the medic alerted them that you had woken up from your coma.

"How long was I out for?" You winced as you massaged your still pounding head. "When did I even get here?"

"You've been unconcious for two days. We retreated to the city as Captain Levi instructed and you've been under their care since," Eren answered. He noticed your demeanor as you looked around the room and picked at your skin, a nervous habit you recently formed. "Everybody's alive, so don't you worry."

"Where are they?"

"Well, they did have to receive medical attention since they got hurt, but they're okay! They miss you, ya know?" Armin said excitedly. "We'll make sure to fill you in on everything when you're out of here."

You pursed your lips. "Speaking of which, when will I be discharged?"

"You can't exactly walk right now, but.. you should be up and ready to go within a week! Then we can go on another mission and-"

"Eren. Armin. Mikasa." Your attention was torn away from Eren, your eyes darting towards the source of the voice.

"Captain Levi!" They all exclaimed in unison.

"I would like to speak with Y/N in private." He glanced at trio, his eyes narrowing. "Out."

The three walked out, heads bowed like sad little puppies. You waved at them as they went before turning to Levi who now stood by your bed.

"What do you want?" You asked bitterly, nose scrunching up in a sneer.

"Commander Erwin informed me of your decision," he spoke softly, differing from his usual cold tone.

You huffed. "Yeah, took your advice and resigned. You won't have to worry about babysitting me anymore."

A pang of guilt shot through Levi's heart, causing him to flinch. He hoped you didn't catch that.

He remembered his own regretful words as it replayed in his head. Just like your cries and pained expression, which he was unable to simply brush off, he couldn't forget how he mistreated you. And he would never forgive himself, either. The sight of your injured body laying there, all alone. He couldn't shake the scene off his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Even in his dreams.

Evident in his eyebags that seemed to have darkened in shade, he wasn't able to get much sleep the past couple days because of it.

"I take it you hate me, then," Levi suggested, prompting you to laugh mockingly.

"Oh, no, I could never," you said, sarcasm dripping off your voice as you fake fawned over Levi. "Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest.. I just adore you."

Levi hid his offended expression and ignored your antics as he continued. "I was afraid I couldn't get the chance to apologize to you. When I found you there, I.." He squeezed his eyes shut and furrowed his brows together, forcing his tears not to fall. Why now?

"Yeah, well, you fucked up. About time you feel a little heartache," you mumbled, looking around the room, anywhere but Levi.

"A little?! Look, I'm trying to apologize here!" He shouted. "Do you have no idea how fucking terrified I've been for you, you brat?!"

"No, Captain Levi, so why don't you enlighten me on how much you care?!" You huffed, crossing your arms. "Because if you did, then maybe I wouldn't be bed ridden!"

Levi's face softened at the sight of a single tear escaping your eye. He took a seat on the bed beside you and reached out to brush away your tear.

With your quick reflexes, you caught his hand and pushed it back towards him.

"Don't you dare touch me. You've done enough damage, Levi. Just go and stop wasting my time."

Just like you, he was stubborn. He stood his ground.

"I-I'm sorry."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "You must think I'm stupid. No way I'm buying that bullshit."

"You need to stop pushing me away, Y/N!"

"What is that, an order?" You taunted. "You don't get to be sorry, Levi. It's too late for that. You waited for me to almost die just to tell me that? Is that what it takes? What if I hadn't survived? What then?"

"You don't think I haven't thought about that?! That's why I'm here!"

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?"

"You should've listened to me! I was trying to protect you!"

"Well thanks a lot. Now both my kneecaps are broken and I won't be able to walk for weeks!" You shake your head. "You think just because we shared a moment while I was dying that I'm okay now? Trust me, if I had the strength, I would have slapped you then and there."

"Then why don't you now?"

"At this point, you're not even worth getting angry over. So stop giving me that pitiful look. I really prefer you shouting at me instead. At least I'm used to it." You mumble the last part, but Levi catches it easily.

"That's it then, you leave me no choice." You look at Levi curiously. "You infuriate me, brat, you really do. You're so careless and oblivious all the time, you forget to look after yourself. And I'm not ready to watch you throw away your life so irrationally from the sidelines."

"So what are you trying to tell me, Levi?"

"Tch, you're just gonna make me say it, aren't you?" He takes a deep breath. "I'm not good at this, and I hate to admit it, to you of all people. It makes me mad to see you risk your life because I care about you.. and I can't lose you. I've dealt with too much death. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive, even if it means dying.." Levi trails off, then scoffs and crosses his arms like a petty little child. "I said it, all right? I like you-- A lot, you stupid brat!"

You searched Levi's eyes for any trace of dishonesty. You hoped he was lying, like he had some sort of script prepared before he came to see you. But you found no lies in his eyes.

You felt your heart break. All this time when you thought Levi just really hated you, he was looking out for you.

"I.. Why didn't you just tell me?" Your voice fell apart as you spoke. "I tried so hard to make you like me back.. And it hurt because I thought you just hated my guts. I had no idea."

"I know, I was being stupid too- It shouldn't have come to this," Levi admitted. "I.. I'll let you rest now."

Levi stood up to leave, but you were quick to pull him back onto the bed with you. Without letting him react, you grabbed his face and interlocked your lips with his. All the tension in his body disappeared and he melted into the kiss, throwing his arms around you tightly like he'd lose you if he ever let go. It wasn't a soft, romantic, movie perfect kiss. It was desperate, tongue and teeth, hands wandering, disheveling the other's hair. You released all of your built up anger and resent, letting it fuel you while you aggresively fought your tongue with his, a faint taste a hint of alcohol now on your own mouth. Occasionally you'd both break the kiss for short intakes of breath and small whispers like 'don't scare me like that again' and 'I've needed this for a while now'. You couldn't help but moan, earning a grin from Levi as he continued to hungrily devour your lips. Just as things escalated, you remembered you were still in the infirmary, and anyone could walk in any minute now. You slowly pulled away, your chest heaving as you panted for breath.

Levi couldn't help but twist his lips up into a little smirk. That was new.

"Well at least you're not a bad first kisser," he spoke nonchalantly, still gasping for air. You playfully punched him in the chest.

"Quite the romantic, aren't you?" You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop yourself from smiling like an idiot. "You're not bad either, old man."

Blush spread across his cheeks.

He took your hand in his, bringing it to his swollen and raw lips and placed a small kiss on your knuckles.

"Promise me you won't leave me again?"

"Promise," you sighed blissfully. "And I guess I'll have to tell Commander Erwin about my change of plans."

"Actually," a deep voice spoke. At the door, there stood none other than Commander Erwin. "I think I already know."

[thetargaryenbride]

A break [Levi x Fem!Reader]

Requested by: @emmaandemmal  Hi, I love your works! Can I request one where Levi and his fem s/o have been a couple since before they were captured by the scouts in the underground? After the deaths of Isabel and Farlan, the reader tries to convince Levi to leave the scouts with her to go and live together in a safer place, but he refuses saying that he believes in Erwin's vision of the scouts and the two begin to fight badly. The reader eventually stays in the scouts because she doesn't want to leave without him, but the relationship between Levi and the reader is getting colder and more detached. The reader begins to think that Levi is no longer interested in her after noticing his growing friendship with Petra and she decides to leave the scouts thinking it's the best decision for her and for Levi. When Levi finds out, he tries to find her, but without success. Only a few years later, he catches a glimpse of her in the crowd after the scouts have returned from an expedition and he follows her. Once they arrive at the reader's house, she and Levi make up and the reader claims that she has been selfish in the past and that she would like to return to the scouts to fight against the titans and to claim the deaths of Isabel and Farlan. Eventually the reader and Levi resume their relationship and Levi promises her that nothing would separate them again. I'm really sorry that it's so long, if you consider this idea feel free to modify it as you wish. Sorry for my English too... it’s not very good. Thank you so much, you're one of the best Levi writers I know! ❤️

I’m sorry for the delay, dear. I was struggling with a mini writer’s block and was focusing more on art but I’m slowly getting back on track! Thank you so much for the request and thank you for your kind words. This really means a lot to me! As far as modifying goes, the only thing I modified is the timeskip. Instead of a few years, I made it one year. I hope you don’t mind ^^

Words: 4.5K

Warnings: Very Brief mention of suicide, prostitution and self-harm

Hope you like it  ❤️ Feedback is deeply appreciated! ^^

Also, if Levi seems OOC, please feel free to correct me~ I accept constructive criticism ^^  

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You were arguing.

You never argued.

But the situation that had befallen you made you feel all sort of ways and neither of you knew how to express those emotions, that stress, which is why it had slowly turned into a fight.

“You shouldn’t have agreed! We have no idea how the world above works! We’re going to fuck up, Levi,” you raised your voice, hands clenching into fists by your sides, levels of anger rising at Levi’s indifference at the situation. You knew that it was only a façade and that deep down Levi wasn’t indifferent. You knew he was probably worried just as much as you were. But right now you were so scared and you wanted him to just show some more emotion, fight back, shower you with words of reassurance, hug you…anything…not just stand with crossed arms, staring at you.

“So what, I should’ve let the bushy eyebrowed bastard send us in prison?” he raised an eyebrow as if challenging you to give him a good reason for your big distaste of joining the Survey Corpse. He couldn’t understand why you had exploded like that when he had agreed. It was the perfect opportunity for the fulfillment of your mission…Not that you had been very accepting of the mission either. Your paranoia and distrust always clawed at you, many a time ripping any semblance of reason and logic. But he couldn’t’ exactly blame you. He was similar in a way. He supposed that this is what living in the Underground did to you.

Living?

No. More like struggling, digging in the mud, to survive.

And the two of you had been doing this since you were kids.  

“I’d rather rot in a prison cell than a titan’s stomach. And since when do you trust nobles anyways? It’s mostly because of them that we all fester here in this dump,” you spat out and he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh.

“If you are so against this mission, why are you even joining?” he shot back and you choked on whatever words you had the intention of spilling.

You took a deep breath as you slumped next to him on the couch, body completely slacking in defeat as your anger simmered down a bit.

“Do you even have to ask me that?” you muttered as you stared at the ceiling, the hands in your lap fiddling with your fingers. “It’s because I would never turn my back on my family…on you,” you murmured as you straightened up and turned to face him. “Even if it’s the stupidest decision which would probably result in something shitty, I’ll still stick with you. You are all I have…I love you,” you timidly uttered the last words, casting your eyes downwards as a slight blush spread over your cheeks. The man sighed before his hands went to grab yours, successfully stopping your fiddling and wringing, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Look at me,” he ushered you gently yet firmly and you lifted your head, locking eyes with his. “We’ll be fine.”

You let out another sigh before you leaned, letting his arms encircle your form as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I pray that you’re right,” you whispered and just when you thought you could have a moment of peace, Farlan entered the room with a constipated expression. You couldn’t blame him. You were all beaten and battered by the soldiers and your ego was bruised, even though you let them capture you. And now they were all standing in your home or surrounding it while you packed the little of your belongings, breathing down your neck.

It was suffocating.  

“We’ve packed everything. It’s time to go.”

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You wanted to blame him.

You wanted to tell him – “I told you so.”

But that wouldn’t bring back Farlan and Isabel.

It wouldn’t stitch back their ripped bodies.

They were gone and the only thing you could blame was this world.

Because it was so cruel.

And the only beauty you found in it was your love for Levi and his love for you.

He had no fault. Nobody knew that things would turn out like this. That fate would decide to cackle in your faces.

The two of you stuck together like glue more than ever after that day. You even went as far as to disregard rules as you would sneak into the men’s barracks just to sleep with him because he was the only one who managed to chase away the nightmares and wipe your tears. And you knew, even without him saying it directly, that you were the only one who could comfort him when he was feeling the burden of the world crushing his shoulders. And Farlan and Isabel’s deaths really did feel like the whole world just crumbled on top of you two. The only difference was that you were more prone to emotions and didn’t find such a difficulty at expressing them unlike Levi who preferred to bottle everything inside, feign indifference and coldness and find toxic coping mechanisms like not sleeping which as time passed shaped into the ugly form of his insomnia, despite all the scolding you’ve done.

Time passed. The first weeks after Isabel and Farlan’s deaths, you had been inseparable. But that slowly began to change after the date of the next expedition was announced. Your paranoia spiked up one night after you had tried suppressing it for days and that resulted in a breakdown.

You wanted out.

You wanted to leave the Scouts.

You had even gone as far as to talk to Erwin and the Commander, literally begging them to help you with the citizenship matters and let you and Levi leave. But of course, they refused and Erwin even went to speak to Levi about this, not knowing that the man had no idea about your plans and wishes.

Levi was angry that you did something like that behind his back. He understood your fear. He understood very well because he was afraid too. He was afraid that he was going to lose you too – the only person he had left. But he didn’t appreciate that you hadn’t been straightforward with him regarding such a serious matter, only revealing everything you have done and felt at the heat of the moment.

“I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a little girl, hiding in the wardrobe, listening how man after man would use my mother every night. Dreaming about a life, safely tucked in the corner of the world, surrounded by beautiful nature, peace and quiet, alongside my beloved person... Is it so bad that I want this for us?” you had asked with trembling voice and Levi’s expression had softened, a sign that he had forgiven you for everything and that he didn’t want to argue anymore.

“As much as I want that too, we can’t have it when the titans are roaming everywhere, threatening to wipe out Humanity. If we don’t destroy them now, we are only delaying our doom,” he muttered as his hand went to softly caress your cheek, making you sigh as you leaned into his touch. “But that man, Erwin Smith, sees something that I don’t. He has a plan to save humanity and… he sees victory… That’s why I want to stay in the Survey Corps and fight,” he admitted and at that moment, you found yourself captured by that determination burning in his eyes.

His desire to fight for a better future.

Not only for the sake of you two, but for the sake of thousands of people.

And while you weren’t completely sure yet that you were ready to sacrifice your happiness and life for a bunch of people you didn’t know or care about, you knew that you were ready to sacrifice anything and everything for him.

And that’s why you stayed.

And he knew that. He knew you better than you knew yourself. But he chose not to call you out for this. Because he understood how you felt. He didn’t belittle you. He didn’t call you selfish or insensitive or a bad person just because you didn’t want to care about anyone else but him. What does selfish, insensitive or bad even mean? They are just vague concepts that are different from every person’s point of view.

And as more time passed, after every expedition, he could see why you wanted to leave. He could see why you didn’t want to fight. Every expedition, every death, left an impact on you, stealing bit by bit from your sunny personality and shaping you into a depressed, miserable person.

Even if you claimed that you didn’t care about strangers dying, deep, deep down, he knew you did. It was just the person you were, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care about anyone but him in order to protect yourself. But on a deeper level you still cared and you were still affected and he knew that you hated feeling like this – it brought only chaos, confusion and misery to your mind and soul as you desperately tried to live up to your own expectations and build walls around yourself only for every brick to be broken as a comrade would send you a smile or compliment you or help you out with something. And after every expedition, he would gain a better understanding as to why you wanted to be selfish and leave. Why you wanted – why you tried forcing yourself – to stop caring about anything and everyone and run away with him – the one and only person who – you tried to convince yourself – mattered.

And he didn’t know why he couldn’t follow you. On many occasions, he felt the same. But somehow, for some reason, he would always find a way back to Erwin – back to the goal they shared for humanity. He didn’t know where that sudden loyalty for the blonde had come from – the same blonde who more or less had been the reason as to why Farlan and Isabel had died. But it was exactly this loyal bond that had formed between them that prevented Levi from following you and he hated himself for it because he could see how this life of soldiers was destroying you from the inside out and there were moments when he would lay at night and dark thoughts would cross his mind – of your body hanging from somewhere or him finding you drowned or with sliced wrists or a bullet stuck in the head.

It wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to turn to self-harm as a coping mechanism and some even committed suicide.

The fight against the titans wasn’t something to be underestimated and it left an irreparable damage on everyone.

And he could see you were heading that way and he hated himself for not being able to put a stop to this and just grab your hand and run away from everything – as you wanted.

That’s why he decided to distance himself from you. He thought that maybe if he started ignoring you, if he was being cold and distant, it would put a rift in your relationship. It would make you think that he didn’t love you anymore. That you were a painful reminder of the past. And once your bond was severed, nothing would be holding you back. Nothing would stop you from leaving. Because he was the only thing, the only reason, as to why you were still sticking around. And then maybe you would finally be able to find the peace and quiet you had been seeking for ages.

His conversations with you became shorter. His answers – curt. His affection and acts of service decreased. It had brought you to tears, thinking that you had done something wrong and it tore him apart when he caught you crying one night. But it was for your own good so he had to grit his teeth and bear with it never mind how much it hurt that he was causing you this suffering.

Him being promoted to a Captain helped a lot. Now he didn’t need to find reasons or excuses to not spend time with you because he was genuinely so busy all the time. The stress was making him snappy too so he tried avoiding conversations altogether, not wanting to actually say something hurtful because then he would feel even more pain and regret and that would have his resolve crumble and he would go back to being loving and affectionate which was far, far from the goal he had.

Then Oluo and Petra had entered the picture – two members fresh into the Survey Corps, graduated from the same trainee squad with incredible talent and promising skills. He had taken them into his squad but he didn’t know that this would be the final straw to put such a rift in your relationship.  

It was true that Petra was a bit clingy. Her infatuation, devotion and loyalty to him were obvious. But he thought it was a childish, fleeting crush which is why he didn’t find it necessary to confront her about it. He thought it would disappear over time, especially with how both she and Oluo seemed like an old married couple more and more with each passing day. He didn’t want to push away the members of his own squad. He wanted to embrace them. To embrace their friendship. On a subconscious level, he was trying to fill the gaps left behind from the people he lost. The gaps oozing loneliness and pain. The gaps you couldn’t fill because he wasn’t allowing you to in his haste to push you away.

And when one day he went to have lunch with Erwin, as the two needed to discuss important matters in his office, he wasn’t expecting the blonde to deliver such mortifying news to him.

“Look, Levi…I’m sorry to say this but… Y/N left the Survey Corps,” told him the Commander with a sombre tone and Levi felt his entire world shift.

Suddenly, regret flooded him, chilling him to the very last atom.

Erwin saw each and every emotion flashing in his eyes. And even if he wanted to remind his friend of the words he had told him years ago, he couldn’t.

Because there were things in this life that were impossible not to regret.

Like losing a loved one because of your or their own demons.

It was one thing to lose a loved one to death. And completely another to lose them because of your decision.

Levi didn’t utter a word, pressing his lips in a thin line as he swiftly stood up and turned on his heel, leaving the office with ebony bangs covering his eyes, shielding him from his friend’s look of pity and compassion.

He needed to think.

He needed time.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You don’t realize how much someone or something means to you until you lose them.

No, that’s not exactly it.

Levi cherished you a lot. Levi loved you a lot. You meant the world to him. That’s why he wanted you to leave. He wanted you to find peace. He wanted you to live a good life away from that misery and bloodshed.

Even if it killed him on the inside.

Because if you truly love someone, you would let them go if it was for the sake of their happiness.

But now that he’s finally gone and done it. Now that he not only pushed you away as a lover but pushed you away from his life altogether, he felt lost.

He felt lost and miserable.

As if life was drained from any sound and colour, leaving him to float in some abyss, soaking in his own negative feelings.

The sorrow, the pain, the dread, the loneliness.

If he had to list them all, he would waste all of Erwin’s expensive parchment.

And as he laid there in his bed, after thinking and reflecting on everything for hours on end, staring at the ceiling with an empty bottle of alcohol shattered into pieces against the opposite wall – alcohol that barely got him tipsy – he realized that maybe he wanted to be selfish too. That, combined with the regrets of pushing you away, burned at his soul, melting any doubts he had, like a blacksmith melting steel, and solidified his resolve to find you and bring you back, like a new sword being forged.

So next day after he had gotten all his emotions, thoughts and feelings in check and after he had taken a decision, he approached Erwin and asked for your location.

He was unpleased when his friend told him that he had no idea where you went off to. Part of Levi wanted to be angry and yell at him. Accuse him of lying. But he was so tired after the emotional and mental battle he had wielded that he just gave up on his anger and frustration and decided that instead of letting such negative emotions rule over him, he would brush them aside instead and pave way for that same scorching determination he had for the Survey Corpse’s cause, now combining it with the determination of finding you.

And he didn’t stop.

Once he started, he didn’t stop.

He would visit every town, every village, whenever he was free from his duty.

He never stopped looking for you.

It took him roughly a year to scout most of Wall Rose’s lands.

But it was during one fateful evening, after the Scouts were returning from an expedition, when he spotted you.

The sun had just set, allowing the sky to be painted in purples and blues with shimmering stars being sprinkled onto the canvas. The street lanterns shone brightly and the comforting light spewing from them had illuminated a very familiar form.

A form that Levi knew like the lines of his own palm.

He hadn’t wasted time to jump from his black mare and chase after you. He didn’t want to approach and confront you right away so he just settled for walking at a slow pace behind you, trying his best to not be noticed or come off as some creep.

He seriously couldn’t believe his luck.

Knowing your thought pattern, he believed that you had run away somewhere far. Back in the days when you lived in the Underground, whenever you had arguments – which was very rare – you would always run away from home and hide somewhere far, knowing that it would be hard for him to find you and nearly giving him heart attacks because of it. But this time you had decided to hide right under his nose – near Trost district which was not far away from the SC HQ.

He counted himself outsmarted and he didn’t know whether to be annoyed by this or proud of you.    

You looked radiant even in the dusk. The cream dress you were wearing made you look like a vision, glowing in the dark. It reached a bit past your knees, revealing some of your calves while the upper part left your collarbones in the open. He longed to run his fingers over your skin. Through your hair. To touch you. To feel you. To hold you. To tell you what an idiot he was. How he wanted you back in his life because he couldn’t exist without you by his side.

To apologize.

“Are you going to keep following me or are you going to help me carry the basket?” your voice interrupted his train of thought and he cursed lightly under his breath. You chuckled and stopped in your tracks, turning around ever so slightly, eyes finally landing on the person you were so anxious to see again but didn’t have the courage to approach.

He wordlessly took the basket from your hands and began walking next to you.

All the way to your house you stayed silent.

He didn’t even comment when you exited the District and neared the woods, only lifting an eyebrow.

Your shoes and his boots clinked against the cobblestone pathway, the little door of the wooded fence creaking under your touch as you pushed it. His eyes scanned the yard, taking notice of the freely roaming chicken, a few lambs, one cow and one horse – your horse from the Survey Corps. He could vaguely make out a garden peeking from behind the house so he supposed you also had a backyard where you were growing your food. He almost flinched when a huge dog – almost as big as you and him – came running in your direction, demanding head pats which you gladly gave.

Levi was impatient. He wanted to enter the damn house already and talk. But at the same time, a part of him was happy about the delay. He almost gulped nervously at the thought of the following confrontation.

Almost.

At last, you unlocked the front door and the two took off your shoes, putting on slippers, and moved into the house. You took the basket from his hands and placed it on the kitchen counter before you grabbed a rag to wipe the table and beckoned the man to sit down. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, taking a step towards the chair before halting, looking at you rigidly, and resuming his journey until he was finally sat. You clenched and unclenched the rag before you threw it away and sat across him, fingers now playing with the soft fabric of your dress. You looked at the ground and he looked at your feet, noticing your toes curling and uncurling from nerves even through the slippers.  

“I-“

“Levi-“

You both said at the same time and you chuckled lightly at the cliché situation.

“You first,” uttered the man and you gulped, sending him a wobbly smile.

“I want to apologize-“ you took a short pause and an intake of air when you saw his eyes widening as his features twisted in a dumbstruck expression as if he was unable to process why you were apologizing. “-for leaving so suddenly without uttering a word. It was…childish,” you quieted down and he closed his eyes, sighing deeply. “You were walking further and further away from me, getting extra busy with being a Captain and…and then Petra came into the picture,” you muttered but were fast to wave your hands in defence, “Not that I ever doubted your loyalty! My trust in you would never waver but…I just thought that maybe we both needed a break. We needed to breathe and clear our heads and start thinking properly. That’s why I decided to leave and give us some space. I never truly intended on leaving the Survey Corps or abandoning you…You mean so much to me…but I’m still sorry that I-“

“Stop,” he rose to his feet and you quickly followed, anticipation and fear at his next possible words, building up inside of you, making you feel like burning. “You don’t have to apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

That calmed you down a bit, the fear leaving your mind, but instead, worry settled as you looked at the way he lowered his head and bit his lip.

“I acted wrongly…I was foolish by thinking that pushing you away would bring you the freedom and happiness you sought,” he muttered and your face softened. “I just,” he sighed as his trembling hand went through his hair in an attempt to ground himself. “I just saw how impacted you would get after every expedition…how you started losing that glow of yours, your bubbly and sunny persona…I saw how hard you were trying to force yourself to stop caring, to be selfish and leave, but you still couldn’t because…because you’re not like that… damnit,” he grit out as he tugged on a few strands before letting his hand fall and rest against his hip limply.

He kicked himself inwardly. He was never good at expressing himself. The moment he had seen you in the crowd, the moment he had set a goal to talk to you and sort everything out, he had been reciting in his head and thinking what exactly he was going to tell you and how he was going to explain himself and the reasoning behind his actions.

“I just-“

“-wanted me to be happy…So you thought that by being a dick and pushing me away, you would make me leave so I can find my peace and quiet somewhere far, far away,” you finished for him, deciding to help him out which caused him to halt in his speech and just stare at you, waiting for your next words, the terror of you rejecting him or telling him that you didn’t feel the same anymore felt like a nettle rope around his neck, getting tighter and tighter with each second, suffocating and scathing him. “Listen, while you might have been partially right, you were also wrong. Because even if I do find happiness away from all the bloodshed, it just wouldn’t be the same without you, silly,” you shook your head as you sent him a sad smile. “I’d rather endure all the pain and suffering in the world than be separated from you,” you finally took the courage to close the space between you as you laid your head on his chest, arms slowly sliding around his torso. He didn’t hesitate to return the hug, sharply bringing you closer, if that was possible, and squeezing you so hard you didn’t know whether to groan from pain or chuckle at seeing him express himself so openly and in such a sweet, boyish manner. It kind of brought back memories from the days you lived in the Underground and how he would hug you exactly like that when you would do something stupid that would put you at risk, albeit a bit more awkwardly since back when you were teenagers you both had no idea how to express your love for each other.

“Deep down I knew you were onto something. Because why would you start acting like that so suddenly? It just wasn’t in your style. But at the same time I felt…” he tightened his embrace even more and buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent and letting it comfort his tortured mind. He had missed you so unbearably much.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” he whispered and you sighed as you ran your hands over his back in a soothing manner.

“I forgive you, Levi…I understand that you did it for my own good. But believe me when I say that I can’t find true freedom or happiness without you by my side,” you placed a kiss on his shoulder before pulling away to look him in the eyes. “Don’t ever leave. Don’t ever try to make me leave. Let’s just stick together through thick and thin as we’ve done since we were kids, ok?” you asked and he nodded, leaning hesitantly. You met his lips halfway and you kissed gently which slowly turned into a passionate, hungry, heated and desperate make out as you tried to feel one another after a whole year of being apart. When you finally broke it off, needing air, you rested your forehead against his and let yourself soak in his presence. He did the same. You just stayed like that, foreheads touching, arms around one another as you swayed ever so slightly.

“Want to help me pack?”

[lovelybarnes]

god- l. laufeyson (part 2)

pairings: loki laufeyson x reader, platonic!tony stark x reader, mentions of nick fury warnings: language and minor angst about: part 2 to god a/n: i apologize for taking so long to post it, i was having trouble coming up with the little details and honestly just writing overall but it’s up!! and another bucky fic will be up tomorrow or saturday!!

loki is suspicious after you leave. in the- admittedly short- time he’s been shoved away and locked in a cage to rot, he had seen you all of two times, and he was enthralled. flabbergasted, too, surprised that a simple mortal managed to stay hidden in the deep parts of his brain and refuse to leave. you were… interesting, just as you had described him: not as a villain, or evil, or horrendous, but captivating; unbelieving that he would do anything for no good reason.

whether that was true or not was still up for debate, so he had yet to decide if you were incredibly intelligent or the simple, stupid mortal he thought you all to be. nevertheless, he found himself slightly disappointed when you left, waving goodbye to him and tucking your book under your arm. while he tried to dissolve the sensation, tony stark came bounding in, standing as close as he could to the glass barrier. stark barked words that loki didn’t care much for, ignoring the man. he could see you wince from inside the elevator, a sliver of your face still available from the closing doors.

“hey, hey!” stark barked, snapping his fingers at loki. the god tilted his head at him, “yes?” he asks, voice dripped in more annoyance than usual. “that girl who just came out of here?” stark started, while loki took a minute to examine his words, “girl,” was she not an accomplished avenger? he thought tony of all people would show the respect that loki thought none of them deserved. “if you even think about doing anything to her, i will bring in the big guy to slam you around some more. you remember him? or do you need a refresher?”

loki nearly scowls at the mention of hulk, body reminding the strange ache that was left after the oaf slammed him into the floor. he only chuckles lowly, though, “how much do you distrust a fellow avenger to believe they cannot handle themselves?” loki muses. tony scoffs, shaking his head, “i really don’t think you’re in a position to question me.”

“i’m a god. i am always in the position i wish to be in,” loki reminds, making tony roll his eyes, “you’ll never see her again if i can help it. and i can,” he says. “oh, but i like her!” loki rebuts, riling tony up, “so sweet, don’t you think?” tony freezes, abruptly turning around and slamming a hand against the glass, “you will not lay a hand on her. i’ll make sure of it.”

“i seem to remember midgardians can usually do as they please,” loki replies smoothly. “and you really think she’ll want to spend time with a monster?” tony questions. loki smirks, “i suppose i simply have a feeling.”

-

tony is seething when he comes to your lab, having switched with steve to come talk to you. you’re humming along to a song he doesn’t bother to recognize. “you’re in a good mood,” tony observes. at the sound of his voice, you turn, taking your earbuds out and grinning at him. you press what he assumes is the pause button on your phone, “tony! i’ve actually been meaning to ask you something,” you begin. tony raises an eyebrow to tell you to continue. “it’s about loki,” you continue, anxious about his reaction. the man pauses, exhaling softly, “oh. i know what you want to- i’m so sorry for doing that to you, y/n. i promised that i wouldn’t put you with him and we should’ve been more prepared. it won’t happen again.”

the confusion is clear on your face, vocally affirming it with a “huh?”

“that’s what you wanted to talk about, right? babysitting loki?”

“well, yes, but no, it actually wasn’t bad, i wanted to bring up the idea of maybe allowing him books? or maybe music or something, i can’t imagine going from having any book at your fingertips to none at all. also, he’s not getting enough food and i wanted to talk to you abou-” tony stops you with a raised hand, “what?” you recognize the conversation won’t end too well, so you try to phrase your words in a way that tony won’t get too angry at. “i just- when i was watching him, i thought we could be a little less… cruel.”

“with the guy who tried to take over earth?” tony retorts, you sigh softly, already beginning to feel resigned. “he still deserves to eat,” you defend weakly, “come on, tony, please? i’ll watch over him myself when he’s listening to music or reading or eating and i’ll take it back when i have to leave.” tony shakes his head, “someone will always be watching, and it won’t be you.” you frown, “why? don’t you trust me? i’m an avenger, tony. i’m not weak or useless, it’s just watching over someone who is literally in a cage. he can’t even escape.” tony’s about to say no again, so you press, “how come nick fury- man who doesn’t trust- trusts me enough to do that but you don’t?”

tony’s fingers squeeze the space between his eyebrows, eyes closed. he contemplates the effects if he refuses, no doubt ending in the thinning-by-the-minute thread that is your trust in him completely snapping.

“fine,” he finally agrees, and your frustrated frown melts back into a relieved small smile, “but everything you give him has to go through someone else first. i don’t care if it’s fury or hill or romanoff or me, but it has to be approved.” you nod quickly, “yes, of course.” tony raises a finger, “and, you will watch him the whole time. you got yourself into this, kid. i trust you can protect yourself from him if you ever need to.” you agree, “absolutely, and, uh-” you reach into your bag, pulling out the book finnegan’s wake, and your old ipod, equipped with a single downloaded song and earbuds plugged in. “i actually have already chosen a book and a song that i think he would appreciate during the time he tells me himself what he would like and while it gets approved, and um,” you push the objects toward tony, a surprised look lining his features, “since you have time now… the ipod has only that one song and i doubt he can do anything with either of the items, although i’ll be here if he does.”

“you picked these out for him?” tony questions, and you nod again, “i don’t really know him, i doubt anybody does, but i thought james joyce was a good guess considering.” tony looks from the objects in your hand back to you, before sighing and grabbing them. “i want to break free?” he asks, holding up the ipod. you feel your cheeks heat, “music is hard, i went for the obvious.”

tony exhales, looking down at the book, “fine, both are approved.”

“what, you’re not gonna check to see if i carved out a hole into the book and put the tesseract in there so he could escape?” you ask sarcastically, taking back the items while he rolls his eyes. “no, i trust you.” you grin, “you better. there’s no reason for you to not,” tony agrees with you softly, genuinely feeling bad while he kisses your cheek in goodbye. “steve was just called on a mission and needs a replacement, so you better get down there. bowser isn’t in a good mood today.”

you huff out a light laugh at the nickname, cradling your dear books and tangling your fingers in the cords of the earbuds while you walk to the elevator. you catch your bottom lip between your teeth while you watch the numbers blink above the elevator doors, nerves from your choices finally making a home in the pit of your stomach and making your grip tighten on the items. you really don’t know him, and one of the few things that you do know about him is that he isn’t the nicest- although you think it probable that it was warranted- which begins the inkling of regret of your carefully-picked choice to form. you try your best to push past it though, attempting to reassure yourself through the fact that loki’s reading options are limited, and as evil as everyone (including him) claims he is, you suspect (hope) that there is something in him that can’t simply disregard kind gestures. you suppose that theory is from what thor has told you about frigga. you hope it’s correct.

the elevator dings, knocking your thoughts off their destructive railroad and your attention to the shield guard wearily eyeing you and what you carry. “hey, wally,” you greet, shooting him a smile as you walk over to him, pulling your id card from your pocket. “what’cha got there?” he asks, sitting up straighter in his chair to look closer at you. “a- already approved by tony stark- book and song for loki. you know how much he had access to in asgard?” you question. he shakes his head, and you sigh, “me neither. but i imagine it’s a lot, and i don’t think he’s been introduced to our books yet.”

wally stares at you for a few seconds, before pursing his lips, “already approved by stark?” he checks, “already approved by tony,” you repeat. “just no ear things. don’t want him to choke somebody,” he instructs, holding out his hand. you oh quietly, hurriedly pulling off the headphones and putting them in his hand. wally only nods then, trusting you enough to not ask for any more reassurance, and pressing a button next to him to allow you into another elevator. the ride is much shorter, and you bounce on your heels, fidgeting with the edge of the book.

you barely recognize when the doors part, the slick-haired god already examining you. “in asgard, it is strongly discouraged to damage books like you are doing,” loki states. you stop your picking, dropping your hand and walking inside. “hello to you too, loki.” the god ignores you, instead focused on what is in your arms. “i thought any pleasantries for you weren’t allowed down here,” he says, eyes focused on your ipod. “ah, not if you ask nicely,” you reply, standing next to the chair, “and, these aren’t for me.”

you set your own book down on the floor- a very cliche wuthering heights, but it was either that or romeo and juliet, and you’d prefer not get caught reading about a forbidden romance while watching a villain- and hold up the one for him, grinning. “so i don’t know much about asgard or its books because thor hasn’t budged yet on taking me, but from what i can gather, you have little to no media from here, right?” loki ducks his chin suspiciously in response. “so i can imagine you haven’t read shakespeare, or james joyce, which reminds me a lot of you, so…”

you offer no more explanation, putting the book on your chair and showing him the ipod, walking closer to the glass. “this is an ipod. it’s used to play songs offline, and i picked one out for you. i don’t know if you’ll like it because i don’t really know what type of music you like or if you like it at all-” you pause, finally recognizing how long it had been since he’d talked. “but, uh, i hope you do.”

you look up at him then, unsurprised to find him already staring back at you. “you did this for me… why?” he queries skeptically. “i told you before; i imagine it’s difficult to go from everything to nothing in a day. and i think it must be boring to be trapped in there all day with nothing to do.”

loki still looks distrustful, but you grab the book, pulling out the key card to open his food slot. “i can’t leave these in here after i leave, but i’ll stay until you finish both,” you assure, pushing the book through the small gap. your ipod is still in your hands as you walk back near him. he looks at you for a few moments longer before his eyes flick to the book. “and there are no… explosives? poison of some kind in that?”

you shake your head, “no, of course not.”

loki narrows his eyes at the paperback anyways, walking towards it apprehensively. “when you want me to, i can teach you how the ipod works and you can listen to the song. it’s by a rock band called queen,” you babble, watching as he slowly observes the book before picking it up at an even more leisurely pace.

“i’m going to go sit over there now. just let me know if you need something,” you can’t seem to stop talking, so you focus instead on your legs moving you back to your seat, picking up your novel before sitting. you’re about to ramble on about something else again, until you notice the publication in loki’s hands, slightly panicking at the immediate rush of satisfaction and happiness it gives you when he opens the first page.

you try to avoid the sound of turning pages when you stay stuck on the same sentence, too concerned about why your neck decided to warm when the god accepted your favor.

“you can play it,” loki voices suddenly, almost as if reading the loud thoughts about your decision on the song. he looks up at you, “reading is usually accompanied by light music, but i suppose i could listen to rock.”

you nod, pressing a button on the small device that makes the beginning notes bounce off the walls of the room. your fingers gently tap along to the beat on the edge of your page without your noticing, too used to the melody to not react. you try not to look too hard at loki to watch for his reaction, too interested if he’ll like it or not.

after the first minute passes by and he doesn’t object to the sound, you count this as a win, allowing yourself to relax into your chair and actually read the words lined on the page, discovering them to make a lovely combination. you only notice when the song ends when loki speaks up, “it is okay,” he compliments, “i enjoyed it. i think i’d enjoy your so called queen.” you chuckle softly, “i thought you would. do you have any favorites here so i can add them for next time?”

“no,” loki responds, not taking his eyes off the page. “i’ll find some for you, then,” you promise, then press play on the ipod again, not missing the tiny quirk of loki’s lips, making you way too giddy than you should be.

-

after it has been over six hours and loki has barely finished finnegans wake, you’re completely sure he took extra time to read it; whether it be to absorb it better or simply have more time with it in his hands, you don’t care, pride swelling up in your chest because you did something right for him. he hadn’t complained about the repeated song, and you can’t blame him. the sounds are a lot more entertaining than the cold silence that usually occupies the space where he resides.

you ask loki more about what he thought, attempting to coerce him into telling you his preferences, until tony is calling you up.

you’re about to leave, both books and ipod in hand when you pause.

“y/n,” loki starts, and you realize it is the first time you’d hear your name out of his mouth. you decide you like how it sounds in his voice, not disregarding how you shouldn’t. “yes?” you answer instead, meeting his eyes. “thank you.”

you swallow, surprised at the genuinity in his voice while you nod, “it was no problem.”

loki finds it disturbing how much he dislikes seeing you walk away.

[cryptiql]

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."