#refusing to even speak to a terrified mother is not resistance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

furiousgoldfish · 4 years ago

Text

Tactics of narcissistic abuse

Love Bombing & Mirroring are tactics to gain your favour. These will come from a narcissist you’re just getting to know and they’re trying to convince you they’re your perfect partner, soulmate, best friend, ideal lover. Love bombing is showering you with over-the-top affection and support, they’re likely to see what works best on you, then give you just that. They’ll convince you that you’re special and make you feel special, whether it’s with attention, gifts, promises, love phrases, or making you look and feel very good in front of other people. If they can spin this as fate or destiny, they will. You have one lucky coincidence? It’s destiny that you met. They’ll create the image of ‘it’s us against the world’ and convince you that they’re all you need to never be alone, unappreciated or unhappy again. They will say phrases like 'We were born to be together’ or 'You’re the only one who understands’ and make you feel like you’re in a romance film. Mirroring is the way to convince you that they are just like you, your perfect match. They do this by pretending they want the same things as you. All of your opinions will be shared, your desires will be their desires too, however you want to live, that’s now their ideal life too. If you want children, so do they, if you want to live in a cottage, so do they.

These will be repeated until you feel like you finally got something perfect from life, you commit to them and trust them completely. You will become lenient with your boundaries and disregard minor red flags, because hey, you finally found love, or someone like yourself who makes your life better. These are crucial to keep you around for a long time; the illusion of happiness and perfect companionship you always wanted will keep you holding onto them in hope that things could once again, be this perfect for you. You will not want to let go of them even after the love bombing and mirroring is long gone. Love bombing and mirroring are not indicative of how they’re planning to treat you once you’re committed to them; as soon as they feel you are ready to fight for a life with them, roles will change and you will have to endure escalating abuse from this person, endlessly.

Scapegoats and people badly damaged by trauma will often not get the full love bombing or mirroring, narcissists will be able to win our devotion by acts of basic decency, small thoughtfulness and acting tolerant of our trauma symptoms, this will feel like everything to us, and once we decide this is a good, special person who makes us feel safe and we’d do anything for them, they’ll turn and exploit us endlessly.

Only way to spot this on time is: there will be a little voice of suspicion in your head going ’Isn’t this actually a little too perfect to be real? A little too convenient and ideal?’ and you will not want to listen to that voice. You should listen to it. It’s your instinct, trying to tell you something is off. I won’t blame you if you don’t. Most people won’t just walk away from their ideal partner because things seem 'too perfect’. But, get suspicious at least. Alert to red flags.

Enablers and Flying Monkeys

Narcissists can’t abuse if they’re on their own; they will work hard to build a reputation and charm people who they can later use for purposes of enabling, triangulating, controlling, scapegoating and smear campaigns. Enablers, or Flying Monkeys, are people who are either admiring the narcissists, want to be in narcissists good favour, are trauma bond and scared of the narcissists, are emotionally manipulated or simply too cowardly to point out that the narcissists is wrong and cruel. Most people will fall under the influence and want to be on narcissists side because it’s easier, tempting, feels safer, and doesn’t require much thinking. Narcissist will sometimes emotionally manipulate people to go do their dirty work; they will cry about how they miss their runaway children so flying monkeys would harass and judge children for running away, they will invent stories of abuse and insanity of their spouse so people would shame and judge the spouse who the narcissist is abusing. They create environment in which they can keep abusing and other people will jump to defend, justify, victim-blame and further confuse the victim. “They had a hard life”, “They’re your mother/father/uncle, you have to forgive them” or “He’s not that bad” are the phrases you’ll hear from enablers and flying monkeys. The term “Flying Monkey” is taken from the Wizard of Oz, because the Wicked Witch owned an army of brainless flying monkeys who would do her bidding – much how narcissists do with their enablers.

What enablers are doing is absolutely wrong. They should not be ready to defend abuse, or excuse and justify it, or believe and act on smear campaigns, not for any reason. They are hurting and isolating the victim, and regardless of how much they suck up to the narcissist, they will eventually become the targets too. Victims are right to cut out enablers just how they’re right to cut out abusers. You do not have to suffer for their cowardice or stupidity.

Triangulation is a form of abuse where narcissist brings another person into the relationship in order to bypass your boundary. For instance, you refuse to speak to the narcissist, so they send your family members, friends, or their friends, to talk to you about how much you’re hurting the narcissist and how cruel and unfair you’re being. Or, you’re trying to set a boundary in your marriage, and suddenly a friend or a relative comes talking to you about how unreasonable it is to set such awful boundary and to think of your spouse’s feelings and how bad they have it. Narcissist may try to use you for triangulation too, for example, they might tell you 'Go tell your sister she should do xyz and she’s making a mistake, she’ll listen to you’. It’s implied you agree with the narcissist, and that both of you are doing it for the sister’s good, when it’s more likely the narcissist is trying to force this person to do something they’re deeply set against and would only serve the narcissist. Narcissists will use their children to triangulate a marriage, they will often 'gang up’ other family members on their spouse, or one of the children. If you’re the victim, you’ll find yourself cornered, isolated, and in doubt whether you’re doing the right thing, trying to establish a boundary. Narcissists will also often show affection, compassion or even love to a third person simply to make you jealous and worried that something is wrong with you since you don’t get the same treatment. It’s what creates an illusion that the entire world is agreeing with the narcissist and no matter what you do, you look unreasonable for fighting them.

Narcissists will sometimes invent completely boogus scenarios and try to terrify people into doing their bidding and believing they’re right. As if the world will fall if narcissists don’t get what they want.

Society at large will often enable abusers; you can call out abuse and be rendered a 'killjoy’ because people prefer to enjoy cruelty together with the narcissist than to oppose them. Narcissists are capable of rousing a whole gang of people to turn against the victim and to aid in their abuse; this is scapegoating.

Gaslighting is a form of abuse where the abuser attacks your sense of reality. They will usually do this to obscure and deny acts of abuse. “I never said that” “That didn’t happen” “That’s not how I remember it” “You imagined it” or “You’re crazy, I would never do that!” are common gaslighting phrases abusers use for events that absolutely happened, and they absolutely remember. It’s even more powerful if they get other people to agree that you’re insane for remembering a past event of abuse. They can sometimes try to convince you that something didn’t occur while it’s still happening. This renders your intention of calling out abuse impossible; you’re now debating whether the event even happened and your sanity is questioned.

The point of this is to drive you into insanity; prolonged gaslighting will make you doubt your own memories and senses, and you will no longer be secure in your own point of view or version of reality. You will not be able to fight abuse, because you will get stuck on wondering if it’s even real, or if you’re making it up. Narcissist wants not only to abuse you, but to control your perception of it, reaction of it, and to disable you from telling anyone and being taken seriously. Smear campaign and gaslighting ensures that everyone thinks you’re lying to make problems, even you.

You can attempt to block gaslighting with phrases like 'That was not my experience’ 'I know the truth and I am not debating it with you’ ’ Don’t tell me what happened, I was there’ or ridiculing them for thinking it would work, but sometimes abuse will escalate if you refuse to play along, so be very careful with them.

Baiting, Projection and Scapegoating

Baiting is the way narcissist finds out which triggers will work on you. Types of baits are: Scaremongering, Accusations, False Claims, Guilt-tripping, Victim-playing, False Hope, or Intrigue. They will use these to elicit either fear&anxiety, or guilt&responsibility. You are likely to get pulled in and respond emotionally to these, and thus the narcissist will discover which one of these is most triggering and they can use it to either control you, or to affirm that they can still get you riled up, scared, guilty – they feed on being able to provoke these, it makes them feel powerful. They can later use the same trigger to push you into guilt and fear if you try to resist their control. If they continue doing this to you for a long time, you are likely to develop self-doubt and anxiety about your own persona. Way to counter this is to grey rock them.

Projection is a primitive defense-mechanism, where a person feels uncomfortable with their behaviour or thinking, so they accuse someone else of it to deflect the bad feelings from themselves. This can feel the same as baiting, but narcissists do it without realizing they’re giving you the information about what they’re actually feeling and doing. For instance, a narcissist will accuse you of being self-absorbed after they start feeling uncomfortable with how self-absorbed they are, they will start to call you selfish when it comes to their mind how selfish they are. They will accuse you of the exact shit they’ve been doing whether it’s lying, manipulating, faking for attention, cheating, exploiting, lacking compassion, stealing. These claims will feel like they’re coming out of nowhere at first, but eventually you will wonder if you’re really like that, and accept their projection on yourself, believing to really be as bad, or worse than they are. Even though they’ve done 100% of these things, while you have done none of it. This can also be countered by being aware what is going on and grey-rocking them. Deflecting the blame back to them will not work because they’ll either deflect it back, or throw a tantrum and insult you.

Scapegoating is the most vicious abuse narcissist can inflict on their victims and is designed to completely break a person’s spirit while creating power out of terror. Scapegoating doesn’t only serve to terrify and control the victim; it shows everyone what the narcissist is capable of, causing them to go very far to avoid becoming the next scapegoat. This creates enablers, flying monkeys and other benefits for narcissist to enjoy, while the scapegoat is isolated, not believed, and often shunned by the community to show loyalty to the narcissist.

Scapegoat will be blamed for every narcissists flaw, accused of provocation and creating trouble, shamed for their likes and interests, humiliated for their appearance or needs, their work will be rendered worthless and any pain and injury will be treated as if the scapegoat deserved it, or wanted it. Nothing is out of bounds to criticize or belittle in the scapegoat; flying monkeys will do it too, to either affirm themselves with the narcissist, or because they too crave power by stepping on someone defenseless. If a narcissistic parent decides to scapegoat a child, the other parent might stop caring for the child, and agree that the child deserves only to be neglected and shunned. The illusion narcissists create, of entire society agreeing that a person is irredeemable, deserving only of pain and ridicule, has turned people to suicide.

Scapegoat absorbs all of the narcissist’s malice, cruelty, sadism, baiting, projection, guilt and tantrums, so other people in the environment can get some relief and can use the scapegoat as their shield. You can be chosen to be a scapegoat for challenging the narcissist and standing up to them, for refusing to scapegoat someone else, for seeing thru them and showing any potential for undermining their authority, if narcissist is jealous of you, if narcissist feels threatened by your intellect, compassion and emotional depth they lack. And often, you’ll just be chosen because they’re in position of power and you’re unprotected. If you’re their child, a lonely classmate, employee with no high reputation or lots of friends, a minority, different in the way of sexuality or behaviour, anything that is easily used to sway a group of people against you. Narcissists will make sure to spread a smear campaign filled with lies against you, so that nobody would align with you, or believe you if you try to counter their word.

This type of treatment is beyond anything a human being could deserve, and devastating for the victim’s self esteem and sense of reality. After surviving a scapegoating situation, people might not want to find themselves in any social setting anymore. They might start believing themselves to be unlovable and defective. There is usually no way to counter it or fight your way out, unless there’s a higher authority who could side with you, or there’s a way to physically remove yourself from this environment.

Grey Rock, Hoovering and No Contact

Grey rock is a way to counter baiting and projection; narcissists learn and thrive on our emotional responses, it gives them a thrill to be able to send us into rage, terror, disbelief, shock or panic. Grey rocking means you give zero emotional response, and thus prove yourself very boring and a bad source of narcissistic supply. So, regardless of what egregious threat, accusation, claim or insult they make, you just reply with 'mhmm’ and look completely disinterested. You reply with one-word sentences, say 'sure’ or 'yup’ if they accuse you of something or try to fearmonger, answer questions with 'maybe’ or 'I don’t know’, agree with whatever bs they’re pulling out of their ass without caring, refuse to get pulled in or baited, give them no significance in the conversation until they leave. It is very hard to do, because they will up their game and even fly into rage to get a response, if they feel entitled to it. In some cases they might resort to violence. Often, they’ll keep changing the tactics until something works, and if nothing does, they’ll feel dejected and go find another source of supply. If they feel like they can’t get to you, this undermines their imagined power over you.

No contact is the only way to truly win against a narcissist; if they can’t reach you, they can’t manipulate or hurt you. This means no responding to messages, no letting them know where you live, blocking them on every service, and in most situations, even the enablers have to be no contact, because the narcissist is likely to send them into triangulation and use them to get to you. If you’re unable to go no-contact with a narcissist, a lot of people opt for 'low contact’, which means you only hear from them once a year, or once every 6 months, insufficient for them to gain control over you, and you grey-rock them all the way, and never share any personal info that might be used against you. Hoovering is something a narcissist will do to you after you’ve left them. They might leave you alone for a long time, then suddenly send a message saying they miss you, or they’re thinking about you and wishing you could do xyz together. They might also influence another person to tell you 'x misses you, they wish to see you again, they’re doing bad without you’. This is done to remind you of the 'good times’ and an attempt to draw you back in, as you’re supposed to have forgotten all the abuse already and be ready to take them back. It might come as outrageous expectation or denial of everything bad that happened – that’s because it is. All you have to do is grey-rock this, not respond, and enjoy in knowledge that even if you can’t ensure revenge, you can take yourself away from them, and they will never have you back.

Sources: Baiting, Scapegoating, LoveBombing, Gaslighting(video), Projection(video), Triangulation, Mirroring(video), FlyingMonkeys (video), Hoovering, Grey Rock

#narcissistic abuse #scapegoating #psychological abuse #narcissistic parents #emotional abuse #gaslighting #love bombing #mirroring #baiting #projection #triangulation #flying monkeys #enablers #this took 3 days to write wow #did you notice tumblr beta has a character limit???#i had to turn it off to be able to post this #i don't want a character limit on tumblr #let people read

2K notes · View notes

unloved-cadillac · 3 years ago

Note

Hello there! I love your work, and I was hoping if I can request a Levi x Reader where the reader is going through a terrible sickness and there's a likely chance they'll die. But Levi's there for her and refusing her to die, so he's doing all he can do to keep them alive.

C/n: loved writing this! Thanks for requesting and I hope that you enjoy 🤍

——————————————————————————

Painful Resistance. (Levi x Reader)

Y/n sat next to Levi and the other Vets as supper was served. The day was long but worth it since Erwin got a huge supply of meat for the Survey Corps. Everyone drank, ate and laughed while they chatted and enjoyed the night.

Levi took a sip of his tea and placed his cup down then reached over and grasped Y/n’s hand. He suddenly turned and looked at her. “Y/n? Are you okay? You’re burning up.” Levi asks as he checks her temperature. “I..don’t know. I’ve been like this since the morning.” She answers and blinks away the blurriness that formed in her eyes. “You don’t look too good, Y/n.” Mike says and Y/n holds her head. “Levi, this headache is killing me.” She whispers and Levi gulps slightly. “It’s ok. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He gets up with her and holds her as they begin to walk.

Y/n abruptly stopped and held Levi’s bicep tightly. “Y/n?” She sighs and sways forward, eyes rolling back and collapsed. Luckily, Levi caught her before she hit the floor and yelled for Hange.

~~~~

“A fever?” Levi asks and Hange with Moblit nods. “Levi, it’s not an ordinary one. This has been building up for weeks and it caused a type of fever that…it’s fatal, Levi.” Hange sighs and Levi shakes his head. “No. No, I don’t believe you. She can’t be that sick. The fever will go down, right? Right?! Hange!” Levi yells and Hange puts her head down.

“Captain, right now all we can do is watch over her. Make sure she doesn’t spike in temp or suddenly drop. She needs to be in a special room.” Moblit butts in.

“Would I be able to be with her?” Levi asks, stepping forward in a threatening manner.

“Yes, but sir-..”

“No buts. She’s my wife and I won’t be taking any excuses. Just..fix her. Do something.”

~~~~

Y/n was moved to a cooler wing of the castle with large windows and the best care. Levi made sure he got her the best doctors Paradis could offer, he even stropped so low into using his title of Humanity’s Strongest to get them.

He didn’t care. He just wanted Y/n to be okay.

Right now, it’s been four weeks since Y/n slipped into a coma and gave the doctors a health scare. It was terrifying because she had to incubated. Levi stood and watch in horror as they shoved the rod into his wife’s throat and almost threw up at the sight. Not in disgust, but in shock and scare.

Levi stayed with her all this time, Erwin being kind enough to sign him off until Y/n woke up, and in that time she got worse. The color in her cheeks started to disappear and her face falling. She lost so much of weight. Her collarbones being prominent and cheeks hollowing. It reminded him…it made him remember of how he watched his mother slowly die.

He shook his head and held Y/n’s hand as he cried. “This can’t be happening. Not again. Please.” He whispers as he grip tightens. Levi looked at her sleeping face and kissed the back of her hand. “Don’t do this, Y/n. You can’t leave. Not now. Not ever. You promised, idiot. You promised me. Fight. Please,” he bows his head as he continues,

“Come back to me.”

~~~~

Days later, a new doctor was brought to Y/n and Levi looked at her. “You are?” He asks, voice hoarse from not being used in so long. “Dr Jean Francis. I’ve been called by Hange Zoe to see to a Mrs Ackerman. I take it that you are Mr Ackerman.” She sticks out a hand to shake but Levi doesn’t leave his wife’s side.

Dr Francis smiles and pulls her hand back. “Ok. Sir, I’m here to help. If I’ve been called that means my cousin couldn’t and it’s that serious. So please, let me.” She says in a stern voice as she puts on latex gloves.

“Do what you have to do to save her.” Levi says after a long silence and Dr Francis nods. “I’m going to check her vitals really quick.” She says and begins her check up in Y/n.

“Blood pressure: good. Heart rate: stable. Temperature…mm.” Dr Francis mumbles and Levi picks up on her resistance. “What is it?”

“Her temperature appears to be normal. So what…” suddenly, the machines start to rapidly beep and Levi jumps up. Nurses and doctors rush in and Levi is pushed outside. “Levi!” Hange yells as she runs to him. “What happened?” Hange looks inside to see everyone around Y/n and Levi just stares in shock.

“I…I don’t know.”

~~~~

“A bug? What do you mean a big?” Levi asks as he crosses his arms.

“This particular bug is only found in river water. It’s one that instantly seeks refuge in the internal organs. It was hard for Hange and the rest to find because it’s symptoms make it seem as one of that a fever.” Dr Francis explains and Levi grips his head. “What is it?” Hange asks Levi.

“It’s my fault. That one day, she was thirsty while we were out for a walk. She drank the water…I knew I should have stopped her. Fuck.” Levi groans and cups his face.

“It’s no ones fault except for the bug’s.” Dr Francis assures the worried man.

“Is there a cure, Jean?” Hange asks her.

“Yes. But, it’s a work in progress. The chances of Y/n surviving is..a 35% chance. I’m sorry, Levi.”

Levi shakes his head and looks at Francis. “You bring that cure here. I’ll pay however much, just help her.”

“Levi, you got to understand, it’s a work in progress. It could do more harm than good-…”

“I DONT CARE!” He yells and Francis sighs. “Bring me that cure. I’m not losing her too.” Levi concludes and head aback into the room where Y/n laid.

Francis rubs her temple and Hange lays a hand on her cousin’s shoulder. “Bring it. It’s the best option we have right now.”

~~~~

When Francis brought the cure, she sat next to Y/n and prepared her for the multiple injections. “We won’t see results instantly. It’ll take a while. A week at minimum. It’s not going to be easy either. It’s painful, her heart will start to beat faster it will be a scary experience.” She says, telling Levi. “Ok.” Is all he replies.

Once Y/n was injected, Levi slept next to her. “I know you can hear me, Y/n. I know that you’re just pretending. But I’ll let you play for now. Promise you’ll wake up? Doc says that it’s going to hurt. I know I vowed to never hurt you but I have to do this, baby. When you wake, you can swear me, slap me, whatever. But I want you awake. Just bare with it, you’ve been through worse. I know.” He kisses her forehead and continues,

“I love you, Y/n. So much. Wake up soon, alright?”

~~~~

It’s as if Levi was living in hell.

Y/n got so much worse than before. Her skin turning dark and bruises formed and he was so angry. He shouldn’t have done this. If he knew it was going to be this bad he wouldn’t have said anything.

It’s been a week and a half since the cure was injected into Y/n and Francis was explaining what might happen. “It will be a shock factor. Once she gets up, she will throw up all types of bile which is the bug and other impurities. The incubator isn’t necessary now so that’s good.” She notes and Levi just stares at Y/n’s face.

Dr Francis didn’t want to say anything further so she bid farewell after injecting morphine into Y/n’s veins.

That night, while everyone slept including Levi, Y/n sprung out of bed and threw up all over the bed. Levi slept on the chair and was awoken by her. His eyes widened as he quickly gave her a small bag. Y/n threw up and Francis and Hange entered the room.

“Y/n!” Hange yells and runs to her side and rubs her back. When Y/n was done, she looked up and then at Levi. She tried to speak but Levi hushed her. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t speak. You’re okay.” Whether he was assuring her or him was a mystery but his love came back.

When Y/n started to get better, Levi never left her. “I love you, Levi. Thank you.” She says and he grips her hand. “Say it again.” He says and she chuckles.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you!”

Levi smiles and laid next to her as she drifted off to sleep. The painful resistance she had just to come back to him was something he would always be grateful for. Just to know that she was here, breathing, talking, laughing with him made Levi at ease.

Kuchel watched her son cuddle his wife as she stood at the foot of the bed. She smiles and disappears. Levi looks up and his eyes search the room. He furrows his eyebrows but ends up going back to sleep with Y/n.

——————————————————————————

“W.D.Y.W.F.M?”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

217 notes · View notes

anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years ago

Text

Binary Sunset (AU post RotS, Beru Lars gets an unexpected visit and has to make a tough choice regarding her nephew)

“Who are you?”

Beru reared back, attempting to put as much distance as possible between herself whomever this thing was, staring her down with cold dead eyes.

“I have come for my son,” the figure said, its voice deep and monotone and distinctly male.

Glancing behind herself into the sleeping quarters of the homestead, she saw that the infant child was still asleep in his cradle. She made sure not to give away his location, but when she turned her attention back to the intruder, her heart was already sinking. He had not moved. In fact, he might have been taken for a statue, had it not been for the loud wheezing breaths of a respiratory device of some kind. The man bore a cape, as black as the uniform full body suit and armour covering him. It danced in the twilight wind, as the two suns glowed behind him like red orbs. Their intense heat seemed insignificant, compared to the burning hatred Beru could feel from the man’s covered eyes.

“I don’t know your son.”

“Is that so.”

His mask gave nothing away, stoic, resembling a human skull. His words seemed a statement, rather than a question, as if he was making a mental note of her defensiveness. Tall, broad shouldered, menacing. Beru hoped she came off as genuine, but when he took a step towards her, she felt the primal urge to run inside, grab the child and flee.

“There is a child in your sleeping quarters,” said the man, after a long, chilling silence despite the sunlight still spilling in orange hues over the sand dunes. “He is not yours.”

“He is!” Beru heard herself growl, shocked by how possessive she had become of the little one in such a short span of time. “He is mine!”

“He is not. You may have taken him in as next of kin, but he is not yours to claim.”

Beru clenched her jaw, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder at the cradle. He was still blissfully unaware, swept in a soft duvet as he cooed in his sleep. Even over the persisting hissing of the intruder’s breathing, she focused on the child.

Luke. Precious little Luke, destined for so much more than life as a poor moisture farmer. Face set hard, Beru made sure to place herself in the middle of the doorway, just outside the threshold. She would not back down, whatever that decision would entail. The ex-Jedi who had delivered him might have grander plans, plans this stranger might be involved with, but she wanted the boy safe. On Tatooine, if he was taught to fend for himself, to steer clear of Jawas, Tusken raiders and womp rats, he might become an ordinary young man some day. Without the mystical sorcery his father had fallen prey to luring him in.

“He is mine. We have adopted him, we are his only living relatives. He has no one else.”

Beru hoped she sounded genuine to the menace, hoped she was appealing to some sort of sympathy or compassion behind the threatening visage. When he spoke, his tone was even deeper than before, a rumble rivalling that of any fully grown krayt dragon.

“Do not lie to me,” he warned, and moved so suddenly Beru couldn’t help but gasp in mixed horror and startlement.

But all he did was raise one arm, letting the open palm hover midair, facing the woman’s face. She blinked, confusion seeping in - and then her head exploded from within. She flinched, as a sharp pain ground its way into her temples. The ache travelled down her spine, a loud ringing in her ears overpowering any senses as her vision went bright white - shutting out both the mysterious visitor and the binary sunset. She whimpered, her own hands flying up to cover her ears. She wanted to scream, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she thought what felt like an ice pick being drilled right through her brain.

And then, it was gone. As if it had never been there to begin with. Unable to control her sobs, her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the ground. She panted, terrified of the man before her, of the agonizing headache returning. She could not explain it, but there was no doubt in her mind that the two were connected. The stranger had hurt her without laying a finger on her, if he was able to do that, what else was he capable of? If she had been wary before, now she was terrified.

“I - I am… not lying,” she managed to whisper, voice hoarse and unsteady.

“No. You are not.”

Surprisingly, the man agreed as he let his hand fall to his side. A wave of relief washed over Beru, but she was not prepared to build her hopes up that he may show her mercy and leave her and Luke alone. Luke needed to stay here, for his own safety. The Jedi had promised her he would keep them safe, and she had promised to love Luke as her own son. That meant defending him as if he were.

“You are not lying. You know only what Kenobi has taught you.”

Beru wiped her face with her sleeve as best she could, hoisting herself into an upright position with one hand pressed to the clay wall by her side. She clung to it for support, but through her watery eyes she saw that the stranger seemed more resolute, his stance more determined. She trembled, but stood her ground.

“I won’t speak of it. Not to you. Not to anyone. He warned us of strangers.”

“Kenobi is a liar and a traitor to the Empire, as are all Jedi. Would it be beneath an attempted murderer to lie?”

The stranger’s voice bore the same, mechanical character but it was sharper now, like a bark. Beru felt the hatred from before had returned, but didn’t seem to be directed at her. The way the man said ‘Kenobi’ revealed everything about whom the loathing was aimed at.

“I don’t understand,” the woman shook her head, cold sweat still soaking her forehead and she wiped her brow with her sleeve.

“He told you the child has no living relatives, did he not?”

Beru’s eyes widened, before suspicion crept back in. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, willing herself to restrain herself from shedding any more tears. Even though she was still breathless, still shivering, still afraid.

“I never said it was him,” she settled for, as her retort.

“I am warning you to play along, or I may need to apply different methods to assure your complacency,” was the reply, and the man raised his hand again.

The threat was enough, and Beru shook her head vehemently, arms coming up to shield herself from another head splitting, intrusive mental assault. What she had assumed before was true, he had been controlling whatever power had tormented her senses. How? Why? Nothing made sense, but she believed him and that was enough.

“You are wiser than most. Fetch the child.”

“What?” the woman croaked, all the blood draining from her face as the intent behind the demand hit her.

“Fetch. The. Child,” he repeated, this time using his raised arm to point his finger at the doorway.

Only a sliver of pink and orange sunlight remained on the horizon. Owen wouldn’t be back in several hours. Beru hesitated, unwilling to comply, but found she could not resist. She could either obey, or protest and get herself killed. The stranger would take Luke away either way, she already knew that.

Stubborn tears welled back up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she slipped back into the primary living area of their homestead. Passing through another low doorway, she approached the cradle cautiously. She didn’t want to wake the child, didn't want to frighten him. Hushing him, or perhaps herself and her own soft sniffles, she picked the little bundle up. Beru made sure Luke was neatly wrapped in his duvet as she cradled him to her chest, rocking her arms gently when it seemed he might wake up. She breathed a sigh of relief when he settled back down, cooing and letting out a soft snore. Swallowing hard, Beru kept her head low and kept her gaze steady on the blonde tuft of hair on Luke’s head where it stuck out from underneath his pajamas.

Not until she had crossed the threshold, relying solely on her periphery and memory, did she tear her eyes away from the infant. The intruder hadn’t moved an inch, the now chilly, crisp air biting at Beru’s tears streaked cheeks. When she spoke, her voice was soft but defiant.

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me first.”

“It would be foolish of you to presume I wouldn’t,” he simply stated, his tone matter of fact.

“He’s my boy.”

Once again, Beru hoped he had a heart somewhere behind the exterior facade of menace. Beyond those strange, terrifying powers he had displayed.

“He is not. The child belongs with his father,” said the man.

“The child’s father is dead. So is his mother. I and Owen are the only family he has left, he has no one else. He means nothing to you, whoever you are. He means the world to me.”

“Then, we have something in common,” stated the stranger, and it took Beru a tad too long to understand what he meant.

“I… don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Not Kenobi, not you,” she felt the weight of realization as something began to dawn on her, but refused to voice it and see it confirmed.

The man shifted then, stalking closer with a couple of long strides. As he moved closer, Beru tipped her head back, staring up at his frightening stature but unwilling to turn away, for fear of what he might do if she lost an ounce of focus. He seemed much more focused on the bundle in her arms, however, and she instinctively held the child closer to her body for protection. The man was huge, towering over her, looming like a hungering predator ready to strike. The lenses of the mask he wore were a deep, crimson red, she noticed now. The colour filled her with dread, entrancing as she watched him peer in what could have come across as stunned silence at the peacefully slumbering infant. One the man’s large, gloved hands came up to reach for the boy, and Beru almost yelped in fear.

But instead of harming Luke with just a look, Beru was shocked to see the man touch the infant’s chubby little cheek with an unearned, unexpected tenderness. It was just a simple, gentle graze of fingertips, and a smile pulled at the corners of the child’s lips. He was still asleep, but he cooed something intelligible, one tiny hand reaching for the stranger’s index finger. The stranger seemed cautious, and Beru almost believed he was concerned, maybe even scared of accidentally hurting the boy.

“Kenobi would rather have you believe the child’s parents had perished,” said the stranger, but his attention was still single handedly on the infant.

“Where else would they be? Kenobi told us the Jedi order had been executed, framed for high treason. He told us Anakin Skywalker died with the rest of his kind.”

“They were not framed, they were the instigators. But I am not here to discuss politics that may result in your immediate execution, and neither should you.”

The threatening note to the man’s voice was back, and Beru pinched her lips tightly together. She knew by now that Luke’s life had never been on the line, not given how carefully the stranger was interacting with the sleeping form. Her life, however, was still in mortal peril - and perhaps Owen’s was, too.

“The fact still stands,” Beru dared to say, bracing herself. “That Anakin is dead, and Luke has no one but us.”

“Luke…”

The name was said so gently, so softly that Beru almost thought she had imagined it. Despite the harsh diction, the flat delivery seemed so genuine and heart felt. Gaze darting between the intruder’s mask, and Luke’s pleased expression as the man let him close his little fist around his finger, the suspicion only grew stronger in its persistence.

“Yes. Luke. His mother named him before she died, Kenobi said. Unless that was another lie,” the woman trailed off.

“She did believe you were a boy,” mused the man, almost wistful as he seemed to be speaking directly to the small child.

Still, the words left an impression. A cold, gnawing sensation settled at the pit of Beru’s belly; clawing its way up into her chest cavity where it remained, desperately grinding from the inside as if attempting to force itself out. There was something eerie and uncanny about the stranger, something distinctly familiar. Familiar, yet foreign. Known, yet unknown. She peered down at the infant in her arms, the love she had developed for the little boy overpowering, overwhelming her. Then, she ignored the alarm bells at the back of her mind, the voices screaming at her to resist the urge. Instead, she slowly held the baby out in front of her, face set hard and throat tight as a lump settled at the base. The ball of tears rose, until her eyes were once more brimming with tears.

The stranger eyed her with what could only be perplexed confusion, as if he was in disbelief that she would entrust him with the child. She remained motionless, as he seemed to be weighing his options. Then, with stilted, jerky motions, he lifted both arms. He reached for the bundle, and with caution as if the boy was made of glass, as if he were so fragile he might break at the simplest touch, the stranger accepted him. The scene was ridiculous; a man looking like the reaper himself had come straight from a galactic battlefield while shielding the very icon of innocence in his grasp.

“You said his Anakin isn’t dead. If he’s alive, then where is he?” Beru said, and the calm, collected manner in which she delivered those words surprised even her.

The stranger said nothing, but he did look at her.

A long, pregnant silence fell as the darkness of night finally settled over the farm, and the Lars’ homestead. Beru wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, blinking back the tears pooling in her eyes. She had wanted him to say it, to verbally verify and confirm what she suspected. It was impossible to deny, as she studied the wonder and amazement with which the stranger regarded Luke. What surprised her most, though, was when he hid the child close against his chest, and held her gaze. She felt his stare burning into her soul, his presence no less imposing than it had been when he first appeared.

Beru found she couldn’t speak. She had nothing to say, and even if she did, it would have made no difference. She understood, and took a step back as she nodded at him, encouraging him with a mournful smile. He was dangerous, that much she could tell. The stranger was vicious, ruthless, and cruel. But he held a tremendous fondness for this child, and in that, Beru could see herself. In that, Beru found the strength to acknowledge that the stranger was, in fact, no stranger at all. Even as he turned his back, cape billowing behind him while he began to trudge through the sand in a direction only he knew where it might lead, Beru was certain that the man would keep Luke safe.

As the man grew smaller in the distance, Beru allowed herself to weep again, watching her nephew disappear into the ice cold desert night. Still, something nagged at her compelled her to make a bargain in turn. Not that she had anything to offer, but she was convinced the man who was not a stranger would be inclined to agree.

“Promise me Luke will be safe with you!”

The intruder halted. Sand whirled around his boots, starlight bouncing off the man’s domed helmet as a gleaming beacon of hope in the darkness. She sensed an odd, reluctant sort of foreboding but stood her ground. He did not speak, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer and she knew he would not have come this far if he didn’t have the intention to keep the boy out of harm’s way. She didn’t know the man well, never had, but she knew Luke. Shutting her eyes, Beru accepted the silence as the confirmation she had been looking for. She had been left alive, living to tell the tale. She knew he had come to kill her, she didn’t understand how, but somehow it was clear. Somehow, Luke would be okay. The man needed the infant, more than the infant needed him. It was the next right thing to do.

“Thank you, Anakin.”

Beru couldn’t be certain, but something told her Luke had a better chance at the kind of life he was meant for in the hands of his father.

-----------

You all knew where this was going, haha. I did intend to post this as another installment of Mask of Death but I’m not sure I should throw a non-canon compliant chapter in there as all others have been as compliant as fanfics can be. Let me know whether I should make an exception for this one or not!

I’m a sucker for dad!Vader and baby!Luke.

178 notes · View notes

the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

Text

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 5

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader (Gender neutral) Rating: T for language and mentions/references to an (emotionally) abusive relationship. Mild, brief violence. Warnings: TW for referenced emotional abuse, mild TW for possible physical abuse (sorry, angry Dani is not 100% gentle with people she doesn't love-love) Notes: Music for this chapter here. If you're following this story and really want to continue reading, but worry about the TWs for this chapter, just send me an anonymous message and I'll write up an alternative version of this post. It's not something I would do without it being requested, but it's also not a big deal so don't feel like you're bothering me if you want that. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Tocatta

Chapter 5: Poco a Poco (Italian: Little by little)

Finding a schedule for lessons to follow proved to be an insurmountable task. Consistency was something that Daniela struggled with greatly, even when it came to things that she genuinely cared about. Things like ensuring you lived long enough to entertain her. Instead of working with you to find a balance that worked for both of you, the youngest Dimitrescu daughter seemed intent on doing things in her own time. Little by little. Which would have been fine, if the two of you weren’t restricted by time.

Fate wasn’t entirely unkind, however. There were still a few things that Daniella recalled from her “youth”, bits and pieces of musical theory, the bare basics of reading sheet music. Not having to teach her proper posture or the structure of a piano would save you a little bit of time. On top of that, you had been informed that, somewhere in the castle, there were a few books of sheet music you could borrow. Assuming you were eventually able to find them, that is. So far they had eluded you, but you hadn’t even had much time to search, as you were still expected to perform your usual Maiden-related tasks.

In the end, it was Daniela herself that proved to be the biggest obstacle in your way.

“Look,” Daniela said one day, barely ten minutes into a lesson, “I think we should take a break… maybe have some fun?” One of her hands is resting on top of yours, the other tucking your hair behind your ear. There’s a smirk on her lips, unsurprisingly, and she’s mere inches away from kissing you. If not for the heavy threat hanging over your head, you would have already thrown yourself into her arms. Instead, all you can do is sigh, turning away from her as you do. “Don’t be like that, sweet thing. C’mon, no one can hear us right now. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“Babe. Darling. Buttercup, honey, cute little button on a bear, you are not the brightest bulb in the lighting department,” you replied, holding the bridge of your nose between two fingers. Instantly Daniela is upset, giving you a (thankfully) playful smack on the arm. Before she can protest more you continue speaking. “Your family would not hear us making out, true, but they would definitely hear us not playing the piano. I’m pretty sure your mother already thinks I’m doomed to fail as a teacher, and the last thing I need is to give her a reason to drop the curtains this early into our performance.”

“First of all, I am not an idiot,” Daniela said, a bit of a growl to her voice. “Secondly, what harm can a few minutes really do? Don’t you think I’ve been working hard enough to earn a little reward?” Now she’s holding a finger under your chin, lifting it up, making sure you’re looking right at her. There’s no dissuading her, it seems, as she leans in for a soft kiss. This was one of the more frustrating aspects of dealing with (courting?) her; communication felt like a one-man play, except the audience was as likely to throw knives as rotten tomatoes. Whenever Daniela acted like this, pushing away your concerns in favor of her pleasure, it felt helpless to try and resist her.

So you kissed back, wrapped your arms around her, and hoped that she’d be more open to compromise afterwards. At least kissing her was nice. Even though it had only been a week since you first kissed her, she was already getting better, evidently learning through experience. The passion behind her movements had grown as well, leaving you a tad breathless. Regardless of her odd perception of romance, and her insistence that she knew best, you found yourself charmed by her. It was scary. Terrifying, really, how you felt yourself falling under her spell. Wait. Hadn’t you been in this sort of situation before?... Staying with someone who wasn’t good for you? Why were you kissing her? Why were you starting to tremble, tears in your eyes, mind falling down a slippery slope of memories?

By the time you snap out of it, you’re sitting on the floor, Daniela awkwardly kneeling by your side. What the fuck? You think, sniffling a little. Head spinning, mind reeling, you struggle to form coherent thoughts. Next to you Daniela is unsure of how to help. But she’s trying, sort of, one hand holding your own, the other gently rubbing your back. She’s saying something, the words going right over your head. Understanding her takes times, focus, like tuning an instrument until the pitch is just right.

“I don’t understand, we were only kissing, what happened? Can you even hear me? Is this your way of tricking me into not making out with you? Because that’s a total dick move and-” she rambles, only stopping when you give her hand a soft squeeze. Then she’s meeting your gaze, looking uncomfortable, shoulders tense. “You’ve been weird for a while. Distant. Like you don’t want to touch me anymore. Don’t you still love me?”

There’s real, honest pain in her eyes when she speaks. If the timing had been different… you’d have thrown your arms around her and covered her face in kisses, promising to hold her onto she felt better, promising that yes you cared. You cared so fucking much. But she’s making you exhausted; every second has to be focused on her, not you. Every moment of concern is flipped around until she’s the victim, or at least the one that needs comforting. You didn’t think that she even realized what she was doing. Well, you hoped that she didn’t, wanted to believe that if she understood she’d change.

“Remember the first day we kissed?... how you pulled me close, and I kissed you harder, and we started…. Remember how I made a move and you pushed me away? I’ll never forget the look on your face. I felt like shit afterwards. I should have asked before I tried anything,” you explain, letting go of Daniela’s hand so you could pull your knees to your chest. Somehow you can’t bring yourself to maintain eye contact with her- not right now, not when you could still remember what it felt like to be on her side of this story. “I don’t want to push your boundaries, or make you feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you like that.”

“Oh bullshit,” Daniela snarled, shocking you, before getting to her feet. Confusion doesn’t begin to describe how you feel in the moment as you watch her pace back and forth. Both her hands are clenched into fists, and she’s refusing to look at you. There’s a buzzing sound in the room, faint but growing louder, like she’s a split second away from entering swarm mode. “We’re a couple, aren’t we? Shouldn’t you be able to tell what I want? Shouldn’t it be obvious what I desire, when I’m pinning you to the wall and shoving my tongue down your throat? What more do you require?”

“Holy shit, Dani, I know communication isn’t your forte, but have you really not even considered talking to me? That’s simple, easy, literally the first thing that should come to mind!” You snapped, too in disbelief to keep your voice down. For a moment Daniela stops her pacing, turning to stare at you with narrowed eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you’d be convinced she was ready to kill you. But she doesn’t move to grab her sickle, or otherwise advance on you, instead groaning and tugging on her own hair in frustration.

“Because that’s not romantic, genius!” She replied. Some dots start to connect in your mind, but you lack the full context, as if looking at sheet music with no clefs or time signature. It’s not until Daniela continues that you really understand; and, by extension, realize just how ridiculous this whole mess is. “None of the books I’ve read involve conversations like this. People just… they just love each other! And figure it out as they go along, reading each other’s body language and facial expressions, inferring what they need to know through touches and reactions. Why can’t we do that?”

“This isn’t a fucking book, dumbass! I don’t have powers like you, I can’t just read your mind and figure out what you want. That’s not how relationships work! Communication is key. And you can’t just talk, you have to listen, hard, and understand,” you continued, still on the floor, heart pounding so furiously you thought it might leap from your chest at any moment. As angry as you are, you wonder if you’re being too loud, too angry, wonder if there was a better way to get through to Daniela. Before you can think of a solution the air is ripped from your lungs. Your “partner”/student is grabbing you by the front of your shirt, yanking you to your feet. Instinct makes you struggle against her, as useless as it is.

“I. Told. You. I’m not an idiot!” Her free hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek for a moment, then pulling away just as fast. When it moves back up she’s gripping onto her sickle. The sharp edge ends up resting against your neck, the slightest movement threatening to cut you open. This is the most Daniela has ever openly threatened you, and in that moment all your anger melts back into fear, tears spilling down your cheeks. A flicker of something shows in her eyes, making you think that even she doesn’t like where this is going. “Give me one reason not to end this right now.”

“... I don’t… I can’t think. I… Why would you?” The words leave you in a rush, even with the pauses, and each syllable makes the sickle press into your skin a little more. There’s sure to be a cut there, though you can’t even begin to estimate how bad it is. The blade is sharp, clearly, and it hardly even hurts as it slices you. Thankfully the sensation doesn’t last long. Once you’re done speaking, Daniela’s grip loosens considerably, hand slowly letting your shirt go. Her other hand takes a few seconds to move, but eventually pulls away without any fuss. For a few seconds she just watches you, eyes filled to the brim with a rich sorrow, mouth open but unmoving.

“No lesson tomorrow. I need a break,” Daniela whispers, barely audible. Then she’s dusting herself off, no longer looking at you, and heading towards the exit. Just like the first time you met, she pauses in the doorway. “How’s that for communication, hmm?” When she laughs, it’s empty, forced. Part of you wants to stop her and ask if she’s okay.

Instead, you watch her leave, unspoken words tangling with your tongue until you almost can’t swallow.

Then your feet move, automatically, leading you to the piano. You sit down without thinking. You touch the keys without thinking. When you play, you play without thinking. It’s just a song, the world tells you, and you have no choice but to play. It’s not just a song, you know this, but you can’t think. Can’t argue against the personification of your isolation, or the embodiment of your trauma. All you can do is let yourself get lost in the music, softly, recalling lyrics from a forgotten time.

I’ve been running all my life, trying to find a place to hide ‘Thought that I had settled down, but I guess things are changing now Don’t make me go, don’t make me go Just don’t make me go, this feels like home

As soon as the last note fades out you stand, wordlessly, and leave. Your feet carry you down corridor after corridor, past maidens working, some of whom gasp when they see you. But you don’t stop, not even when you cross paths with Lady Bela, who eyes you with surprising concern. She doesn’t try to stop you, though, and you doubt you would have cared if she had tried. It’s not until you are within your shared room that you finally stop moving. It is there that you sit, shaking, finally pressing a cloth to your neck. Blood stains the fabric, first in just a few dots, then spreading out. There’s not enough to make you fear for your life, but there is enough to make you cry harder. Washing the wound will sting… so you don’t do that. Soon you will have to return to your work, and the thought puts pressure on your skull, summoning an all-too-familiar migraine.

When you close your eyes, you don’t mean to fall asleep, but that is exactly what you do. And when you dream, you do not wish for nightmares. You never do- and fate never denies you their company.

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #big oof in the chat for this one boys #introducing the secondary conflict #don't worry the next one will be happier :)#tw emotional abuse #we learn little hints of the reader's backstory here

157 notes · View notes

nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice · 4 years ago

Note

I couldn't really get into Azula, tbh. I mean, she is a Whole Look and I appreciate her lack of chill, but she felt like she needed more dimension.

AIGHT! LOOKS LIKE IT’S TIME TO WRITE SOME MORE AZULA META. Because I’m not about to have one of the most complex antagonists in television history slandered like this.

If you want to talk dimensions, let’s start there. From the basis of her actions, we can characterize Azula as many things: manipulative, ruthless, ambitious, and lacking in empathy. We see her as a military strategist: commanding the drill to go through the wall, conquering Ba Sing Se by staging the coup, and planning the destruction of the Earth Kingdom with Sozin’s Comet. We see her as a master manipulator: convincing Mai and Ty Lee to join her hunt in season 2, convincing Zuko to betray Iroh, lying to Ozai about Zuko killing Aang, and stalling Sokka at the invasion by taunting him about Suki. We see her trying to kill her brother and uncle all throughout season 2 just on her father’s orders, shooting Aang with lightning in the season 2 finale, almost killing Zuko multiple times in season 3, and nearly killing Katara in Sozin’s Comet.

So from her actions, we can characterize her simply as power-hungry and lacking in empathy, sure, but it’s in her motivations that her dimensions lie. And everything, everything Azula does in this show is to prove to her father that she’s worthy of his favoritism.

We’re introduced to Azula in season 1 indirectly via Zuko and we know some things about their father already. The two main things being the whole ‘burned half of Zuko’s face off and banished him for speaking out of turn and refusing to fight him’ and the whole “[their] father said [Azula] was born lucky” and “[Zuko] was lucky to be born.” At the end of season 1, Ozai calls Zuko “a miserable failure” and we see him about to send this mysterious sister figure to do something about that. We know that Ozai had absolutely no sympathy whatsoever for his son and horrifically, publically abused him over what exactly? Showing weakness.

That’s what we know from season 1. With Azula’s introduction in season 2, it’s clear that their upbringing was way more messed up than just this one instance. We start to see that there are these cracks in the royal family and the manipulation and callousness goes way beyond Zuko’s banishment.

From the Zuko and Iroh plot of The Avatar State, there are a couple key moments where themes of favoritism, perfectionism, and jealousy enter. It starts with the three-year anniversary of Zuko’s banishment where he’s sitting in self-loathing just wanting his “father not to think [he’s] worthless,” holding onto Ozai’s approval as the achievable thing that will mean he’s worth something. We see Azula practicing lightning bending (something we have never seen a firebender do on the show before, it is clear that she is incredibly talented) but still berates herself for being ‘one hair out of place’. We see Zuko lash out at Iroh for implying that Ozai might not really want him to come home despite what Azula says, and we know that Iroh genuinely cares about Zuko and wants him to be safe, but Ozai doesn’t. Iroh introduces the concept that “things in [their] family are not always as they seem, but Zuko reduces this to sibling rivalry, and there’s a reason why. Zuko and Azula have been raised under a competition for their entire lives, and for that entire time, Azula was winning. And by this point she’s still winning. She’s ecstatic that she’s the favorite child while Ozai wants to “lock [Zuko] away where he can no longer embarrass him”. By the end of this episode, one thing is clear: Azula and Zuko are competing with each other. Only one of them can be good enough for their father. But while Zuko takes his first step to cut himself off, Azula doesn’t want to stray from this competition that she’s winning.

In Zuko Alone, this favoritism goes deeper. Just like with Ozai, Ursa’s approval and love is conditional, but these are conditions Azula isn’t meeting. She’s not as empathetic or sweet as Zuko and their mother isn’t shown treating her with the same affection as she does with Zuko. It’s not just Ozai favoring Azula over Zuko with that one scene of Ozai smiling when Azula performs her firebending and frowning when Zuko performs his, it’s Ursa favoring Zuko over Azula. It’s Ursa treating Zuko with gentleness and care and only reprimanding Azula for the way that she is.

Despite the fact that she’s obviously getting all her ideas from her father. This mentality of ‘I must do anything for the throne, even throw my own sibling under the bus,’ is all from Ozai. And when Ursa leaves, there’s no one to keep her in check. There’s only one parent to win the affection of and she’s already succeeding because all she has to do is be a better firebender. All she has to do is follow Ozai’s example of callousness and ruthlessness in order to be the favored child. And keep in mind, being ‘the favored child’ under this roof isn’t something petty, it means ‘one of you gets to be the heir and the other might not be allowed to live.’ This episode reveals what’s been going on in Zuko and Azula’s head this whole time. It reveals that they’re both constantly thinking that only one of them is going to be seen as worthy in their father’s eyes, as they were taught to believe that Ozai was more ‘worthy’ than Iroh since Iroh retreated from Ba Sing Se after Lu Ten died. And the other one, the one that wasn’t seen as worthy, that one was ‘disposable.’ And for most of their lives, the ‘disposable’ one was Zuko.

But while Zuko spends most of the series slowly learning, with Iroh’s help, that the situation shouldn’t have been like this, that parental love and protection shouldn’t have to be conditional, Azula is still stuck in this mentality. And season 2 is full of examples of Azula doing everything in her power to prove herself to Ozai. Her task was to just bring Zuko and Iroh home for imprisonment, but along the way she added ‘capturing the Avatar’ and ‘conquering Ba Sing Se’ as additional tasks for herself. Why? Because those were the things Iroh and Zuko failed at doing. And she needs to prove that she’s better than them, otherwise what’s going to stop Ozai from deciding that she’s the person who he’s going to be disappointed in next? But if she does these things, if she conquers Ba Sing Se, if she finds the Avatar, that means she’ll still be considered useful to him, right? That means she’s the one who “has father’s love,” right?

Because that’s what Azula strives to be over anything else: useful. She wants to be the person he relies on. The child he believes in. There’s a really good example of this early in season 2 when Azula goes to Omashu to get Mai:

Azula takes control of the situation. She doesn’t really have anything to do with this city or the fake plague or the hostage trade. This is entirely the governor's responsibility and she’s just there to pick up her friend, but since she’s there, she has to make sure things are in order for her father. So she strips the governor of his power, takes control of the hostage situation to ensure that Bumi doesn’t slip through her fingers, and renames the city ‘New Ozai’ just for good measure. We see Azula as the actual proactive villain for all of season 2 and she would be well within her rights to name the city after herself. But she doesn’t. Because that’s not why she’s doing anything she’s doing.

The flashback showing where she suggests burning down the Earth Kingdom reveals a lot with her body language. She suggests this by interrupting Zuko, who’s more resistant to the idea to ‘destroy their hope.’ He doesn't agree with Ozai’s idea, but she needs to show that she’s on her father’s side. She’s the one who can be as ruthless and destructive as he is. So she suggests this and looks to Ozai for approval, and once he gives it, that’s when she looks pleased. The actual plan to destroy the Earth Kingdom isn’t what brings her joy at this moment, it’s Ozai’s approval of her suggestion. We didn’t see her clap once his back was turned. This isn’t about the plan itself, it’s about Azula’s ability to be the heir she thinks Ozai wants her to be.

And it’s in this moment in Sozin’s Comet shows exactly where Azula’s been coming from this whole time:

This whole time, it hasn’t been about the destruction. It hasn’t been about what she wants. It’s been about being the favored child. It’s about being better than Zuko. In Azula’s eyes, she’s done everything right. She’s master lightning. She wasn’t the traitor like her brother or uncle. She conquered Ba Sing Se. She showed her father that she was on board with the destruction of the Earth Kingdom and proved her loyalty. She did everything right. But there’s a part of her that was waiting for this shoe to drop for years, ever since she watched her brother get his face burned off for not meeting Ozai’s standards. And she sure as hell remembers that all throughout the series and it shows: she can’t afford to be imperfect because she knows the consequences if she’s not.

But in this moment, her fear shows. Her fear of not being good enough. The fear of being imperfect, disposable. She’s been terrified of this moment her whole life and has done everything to delay it. This moment: where Ozai casts her aside, where she isn’t good enough to come with him in her eyes. There’s no one left but her: no Iroh, no Zuko, no Ursa. Everyone else left and there’s no one else to compete with. And she’s left alone with this meaningless position of Firelord now that Ozai’s about to declare himself ‘Phoenix King’ and she clings onto that position because it’s her last chance to prove herself after this rejection.

She goes off the deep end because she’s all alone. She’s snipped out anyone who was imperfect. She cut off her friends once they betrayed her. Azula isolated herself on the throne and demanded perfection because that’s what she saw her father do. Family wasn’t important to him. Loyalty and perfection were. So that’s the example she follows but it’s lonely and terrifying, so she loses herself. All her fears about not being good enough come back up after Ozai leaves her behind. That’s why she mentions Mai and Ty Lee. That’s why she sees Ursa. These are the people who didn’t choose her, and now that her father has left her behind and she hasn’t met his standards for the first time in her life, all those vulnerabilities and insecurities come to the surface. The thing Azula fears most over anything else is rejection, which is why she’s obsessed with perfection. Because she’s been taught that if she’s good enough: if she perfects her firebending technique, if people fear and respect her, and if people choose her, then that means she’s not disposable.

And at the end, she’s the one who challenges Zuko to an Agni Kai. To prove one last time that she is worthy. That she was worthy all along and that her father was right to choose her to be Firelord.

And there’s an interesting parallel to consider here. The first time we ever see Azula is at Zuko’s Agni Kai with Ozai in the season 1 flashback, and at that one she’s smiling at her brother getting punished because it signifies to her that she won. Ozai picked her. Zuko was the disposable one. And in the end she wants that to still be true and finds that it’s not. In the end she loses and she doesn’t know what to do with herself now that she’s the one cast aside.

And that’s the tragedy of Azula, really. This entire time she was conditioned to think that her value and the value of the people around her rested in perfection and she spent the entire series trying to prove herself. She was convinced that love was something that needed to be earned and that if she didn’t get results, if she didn’t win, then she didn’t deserve it.

And that’s just a small piece of her character if we’re being honest. This doesn’t get into the details of how Ursa’s treatment shaped her, how her relationship with Zuko was ruined by their parents, how her bending is a reflection of her mental state, or how he relationship with Mai and Ty Lee reflects her view of herself and others. Azula is one of the most complex villains in television history not only because she has a rich backstory, interesting motivations, or unique persona, but because underneath everything, she’s just a teenage girl who doesn’t wants her dad’s approval and is so deeply terrified of being cast aside. She may be ruthless and she may lack empathy, but those traits stem from deeply rooted damage and vulnerability.

(For some more Azula meta I did a deep dive into how The Beach foreshadows her breakdown and reveals her vulnerabilities and here where I talked about how she and Zuko were pitted against each other and had their relationship damaged by parental favoritism.)

#hot leaf meta #azula #atla #zuko #ursa #ozai #iroh #avatar the last airbender #sozin's comet #zuko alone #the avatar state #the babes are asking #I kind of feel that this ask might have been a joke #but I needed to get some meta out of my system #long post #what does that tag even do?#does anyone actually have 'long post' as a blocked thing?#tw: abuse

2K notes · View notes

fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 4 years ago

Text

Exercises in Self Control

It's been five years since Endeavour divorced his wife and sent her away to a hospital.

You are his second bride and all he wants is to see you naked. Based on the short story 'The Tiger's Bride' by Angela Carter. You can find a summary of it here

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Endeavor x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: Possessive behaviour, (it’s Endeavor, I mean, c’mon), Endeavor pre-redemption arc who’s still learning boundaries, references to suicide (not Reader), references to Touya,

Endeavor is spelled Endeavour because I’m British mmkay

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Your father lost you in a game of cards.

On the surface he was a respectable man, owner of several businesses and an outspoken member of the local community. He also spent much of his free time in underground gambling dens, betting more money than he could possibly afford on poker and mahjong. By the age of fourteen, you had made peace with the fact that you would never go to college. By seventeen, you had dropped out of high school and taken on a job in a hostess bar. By twenty-five you paid almost all of the rent and took full responsibility for getting the groceries and maintaining the house.

On good days, your father would return with diamonds and tiaras and remind you and your mother that you had come from rich stock. On bad days strange men would come knocking at your door, demanding the money your father owed. It was too much for your mother, whose family ran most of Roppongi. Prior to her relationship with your father, she had never had to go without. The shame of it ate away at her until there was nothing left; finally claiming her life when you were sixteen.

You decided at her funeral that you had nothing left to lose.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You were twenty-seven when the unthinkable happened and your father finally lost everything.

Well. Almost everything.

Two weeks later, the strangest and most frightening man of all arrived at your home, ready to change your lives forever.

You knew his name, of course. Everyone did. He was Endeavour, the world’s number two hero, as famous for his flames as he was his stern demeanour. He dominated every room he entered; easily more terrifying than any yakuza you had ever met.

Your father urged you to make tea and then promptly dismissed you, which in itself wasn’t unusual. He hated discussing business matters with you or your late mother in the room, mostly because he didn’t want you to know how dire your situation actually was.

It was the first and last time you gave in to curiosity.

You stayed outside of your father’s door and listened in on the plotting within. Endeavour made a proposal shortly after; a business deal so terrible that your knees buckled underneath you and you had to hold onto the door frame.

He would settle your father’s debts and buy each one of his businesses, but in exchange he wanted to marry you.

Surely your father wouldn’t accept such a fate for you? Surely he wouldn’t agree to have you marry a man thirteen years your senior that you didn't even know?

You had heard that Endeavour was married with children. What on earth did he want with you?

You threw yourself into his office before you could stop yourself.

“Please,” you begged. “Please don’t do this!”

You fell to your knees in front of your father, but the decision had already been made. Endeavour honoured his side of the deal there and then, transferring a down payment to your father’s account, with the promise of more after the wedding.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You were married to Endeavour two days later. There was no ceremony or celebration and you signed away your life while your father counted his money.

The only pretty part of the wedding was the bouquet of white roses your soon to be husband delivered to your door and even then you cut your finger on the thorns. Endeavour took one look at the bloody smears on their beautiful white petals and appeared quite disgusted, burning them on the spot.

You thought of them as you climbed into the back of his car and bit back tears all of the way to your new home. You had sacrificed so much already, but losing any chance at love hit you the hardest. You told yourself that this was the way things had to be; that if you didn’t marry this man, your father would end up dead or worse.

Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder how things might have played out if the roles were reversed. Your father would throw anything he had at a chance of glory, but you weren’t so sure that extended to his loved ones.

You supposed it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered now was the man sitting beside you. In certain lights he didn’t look human; teeth fractionally too long and eyes too sharp. He did not speak his vows, so much as growl them.

You were going to have to have sex with this monster of a man and that knowledge left you twisting and turning your hands in your lap.

You expected him to take you to one of his other apartments, but in the end he took you to his main residence, opening the car door for you in silence and gesturing for you to follow him up the path. His house was massive and you shivered as you saw it, suddenly convinced that it wasn’t only your husband who would swallow you whole.

Every room your husband took you to was bare, as if the house was merely for show and not a family home. His staff stared at you as you passed, as curious of the new bride as any other exotic animal. You wondered how they saw you. Did they think you were despicable to even consider replacing the previous Mrs Todoroki? Did they look at your bright eyes and white wedding dress and think of you as a lamb to the slaughter? Did they think you were a whore? A jezebel who seduced their master for his money? They kept their cards close to their chest.

You weren’t sure what was stranger about the experience: the absurd circumstances behind your arrival at the residence; the way your husband gruffly pointed out each room to you; the fact that even now that you were his wife, he never once looked you in the face. It was all so very overwhelming and you couldn’t help but feel dizzy.

Endeavour’s children had been noticeably absent from the wedding. You knew that the circumstances were unconventional, but it surprised you nonetheless. You were going to be their stepmother. This would be a strange period for all involved.

As it happened, they were absent from their family home too, not only in presence, but sentiment. He pointed out each of his children’s rooms and skimmed over their ages, but that was the only sign they existed at all.

Fuyumi was seventeen, Natsuo fourteen and Shoto the youngest at ten. He passed by the final room with little in the way of acknowledgement, though you paused to read the name on the door.

Touya

The door was ajar, with just enough space for you to see inside, though you didn’t get the chance, for your husband noticed you weren’t following and came back to take you by the arm.

“You won’t be going into that room,” he said, without a hint of doubt in his voice.

You wondered why such an innocuous room was forbidden, though didn’t get the chance to wonder about it for long, as you arrived at the master bedroom.

Of all of the rooms in the house, this was the emptiest. It had a king sized bed with plain white bed covers, a dressing table and simple wardrobe and a set of bedside drawers. That was it, though. There were no photographs on the walls, no bookshelves, no possessions. Much like the rest of the house, it was as if no one lived there. The closest thing to a personal item was the mirror on the dressing table.

Endeavour closed the door behind you and it echoed on your senses, like the snap of a bear trap around your ankle. You were alone with him now, far away from home, with no one to save you or take you away. Your eyes filled with tears before you could stop them.

“Strip,” he said, with no room for argument.

“No,” you whispered, hugging your arms around your body.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of this and didn’t bother anymore to hide it. You didn’t want to offer up your body to him. You couldn’t think of anything more frightening or distasteful than his hands on your skin.

“Strip,” he said again, but you refused him just as before.

It was just as you had feared; this man wasn’t used to or fond of being told ‘no’.

He grabbed one of the arms you had been using to shield your body. He was strong, too strong, and your attempts to resist were fruitless.

“We won’t be having sex,” he said, as if it would comfort you, “but I will see you.”

For some reason, that only made you cry harder. He squeezed your arm, sending a rush of heat through your skin.

“No,” you said, voice trembling and arm stinging. “I’d rather die.”

You looked up into his face and realised that this was the first time since his arrival on your doorstep that he’d actually looked at you. His gaze drifted from your tearful face to your heated arm to the cut on your finger from the wedding bouquet. You hadn’t gotten the chance to put on a band aid. He stared at the dressing table mirror behind you for an uncomfortably long time.

Something changed in his expression and he dropped your arm, saying nothing as you held it to your body. He said nothing, in fact, even as he left the room and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving you alone in the enormous bedroom.

You dropped to the floor and hugged your knees to your chest, sobbing silently at this terrible sequence of events. You hated your father, hated your new home, hated the heavy footsteps of your new husband as he prowled the hallways.

You stared into the dressing table mirror as he had, taking in your tearstained face and white wedding dress. You knew that under different circumstances you were beautiful. There had never been any point in denying it. You had taken advantage of it at the hostess bar, using your youth and good looks to make a fortune.

You were not beautiful then, though. Your hair was a mess and your arm pink where he’d held onto you. You rubbed the tears from your eyes and got to your feet, stepping closer to the mirror and loosening your gown.

He had told you that he would not have sex with you, and you wondered why, running your fingers over your exposed chest. Many men had tried and failed to get you into bed, be it buying expensive trinkets or leaving you hefty tips. You were all too aware that your body was the only thing you had left to barter and Endeavour meant to take ownership of that too. He had not lost control that day, but someday he would.

You vowed that you would never allow it, no matter what it took.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You spent the evening listening out for Endeavour’s footsteps in the hall, waiting for the inevitable moment he came back to the bedroom, to sleep if nothing else. He never came back, though, and you fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, sprawled across the bed.

You woke a matter of hours later with a crick in your neck, eyes burning from keeping them open for so long. You squeezed your eyes shut and willed your surroundings to be different when you opened them. With any luck, you’d wake up back in your own bed to your own alarm clock, your father calling for you to get up and make coffee.

That’s not what happened, though. You were still in the master bedroom at Endeavour’s house -now your house- in the same wedding dress you’d had on the night before. You wondered what time it was. Sunlight shone through the blinds but, given it was the middle of summer, that didn’t mean much. It could have been four in the morning or two in the afternoon.

Someone was trying to wake you, though, someone knocking at your door far too gently to be your husband. You sat up and hobbled over to the door, wondering what on earth would greet you when you opened it.

In the end, you need not have worried.

It was a member of the house staff, clutching a pile of clothes and letting herself into the room the moment you opened the door.

“Good morning,” she said without looking at you, setting the clothes down onto the bed. “I’m here to get you ready for breakfast.”

“Oh, I…”

“Mr. Todoroki has decided you should wear this today,” she said, picking up a white summer dress from the pile.

“Thank you,” you said, “but I-”

You had clothes of your own. You remembered packing them the day before your wedding.

“Your bathroom is across the hallway,” she said, as if you’d said nothing at all. “Let me know if there’s something else you require.”

You accepted the outfit she held out to you, deciding to humour her for now. You would change into your own clothes when she wasn’t looking.

“One more thing,” she said, as you headed for the door. “Mr. Todoroki wanted you to have this.”

She held out a small jewellery box and you stared at it, picking it up in curiosity. You already had a wedding ring, what could this be?

You didn’t want to open it while the other woman was there, so you carried it into the bathroom with you.

You had never had your own bathroom before and, much like everything else in the house, this one was unnecessarily large. Someone had filled the cupboards with everything you might need: freshly laundered towels, aspirin, soaps, a toothbrush still in its packaging. It was as if you had entered a hotel bathroom and not a room of your very own.

You opened up the jewellery box as you ran yourself a bath. Inside was a pair of diamond earrings that sparkled in the light. They were beautiful, undoubtedly, but you weren’t sure you wanted to wear them. You had worn your mother’s earrings almost every day since her funeral and didn’t want to change that now.

You closed the box and set it to one side, stealing glances at it as you soaked in the bathtub. You would thank your husband later. It was the least you could do.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You arrived at the breakfast table a short while later, stomach fluttering from nerves and hunger. You had no idea what awaited you, only that your mouth watered at the smell of food, in no small part because you hadn’t eaten anything since the previous day.

The housekeeper showed you to the breakfast table and, for a moment, you wished you had stayed in your room. Suddenly you were the main focus of four sets of eyes.

Endeavour and his children all sat at the table, clearing their plates in silence. The children appeared more than a little baffled to see you there and your stomach churned. Something about this was very, very wrong.

“Sit,” said Endeavour, motioning to the seat closest to him. That wasn’t wholly necessary, for all three of his children seemed to have positioned themselves as far away from him as possible.

You crossed the room, conscious all of the time of everyone’s eyes on you.

“This is (Name),” said Endeavour as you sat down beside him. “She’s going to be your mother from now on.”

In that moment, you realised the real reason for his children’s absence at your wedding. This was the first they had heard about the marriage.

You couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be in their shoes. If your father had brought home a strange new woman following your mother’s death, you would almost certainly have hated her guts.

You wanted to tell them that you had about as much desire to be there as they did, but the tension in the room was too much to bear.

“I…”

The oldest of the two boys, presumably Natsuo, was the first to speak.

“What the hell do you mean? What...wh…”

“Natsuo,” murmured the girl, presumably Fuyumi. “Don’t…”

“Isn’t it enough that mother’s in a hospital because of you? Now you’re going to replace her with some...some…”

“Natsuo,” said Fuyumi, stopping her brother before he could land on the word ‘whore’.

Endeavour sipped his tea, apparently used to these sorts of outbursts. You wondered how many arguments could prompt this sort of indifference.

“As I said. (Name) is your new mother. You will give her the proper respect.”

Just as the night before, he offered no room for argument. The table fell into silence once again, though only for a matter of seconds.

“I’m not going to call her mother,” said Natsuo, to which his sister elbowed him in the ribs.

“Natsuo, that’s enough,” she hissed, before turning to you with a weak smile. “Welcome to the family...m…”

She cleared her throat, glancing from you to Endeavour, who watched her in turn.

“Mother.”

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

Endeavour left for work shortly after, announcing that you were not to leave the grounds except to meet him at the door when he returned. Just like that, he left you alone with his children, two of which swiftly dismissed themselves from the table. Only the youngest remained and he stole glances at you every so often with his mismatched eyes. You wondered how he had ended up with such a prominent burn mark on his face. You told yourself you didn’t want to know.

He got to his feet after clearing his plate, conflict visibly playing out across his face.

“Excuse me,” he said, before leaving the room.

You picked at your food for a little while before giving up, Endeavour’s words playing over and over in your mind. You were not to leave the grounds. You were to be the mother of his children, but none of them would be yours. He would decide what clothes you wore, which rooms of the house you went in. You had come to him a virgin and, as he had no intention of having sex with you, would remain so for the rest of your life. Overnight your life had become just as muted as the white roses he had picked out for you.

You wondered why his previous wife had ended up in a hospital. Had her circumstances been at all similar to yours?

No, you decided, they couldn’t have been. She was the mother of each one of the children at his breakfast table. There had clearly been some sort of physicality between them.

In that case, why were you so different?

What had changed in the past few years?

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

After breakfast you went to your bedroom to change out of the summer dress and into your own clothes, only to make a shocking discovery. You remembered packing your clothes; remembered sobbing into them as you took them from your drawers. You had expected them to have been taken into your wardrobe or stored somewhere in your room, but you couldn’t find them anywhere. The only clothes in your wardrobe were the ones the housekeeper had brought in earlier.

You told yourself that it had to be a mistake. You rifled through the wardrobe and under your bed for a flash of colour or anything familiar, though found nothing of the sort. When you flagged down the house staff, they seemed just as confused as you. Mr. Todoroki had said nothing about your possessions coming to the house. He had, however, made it perfectly clear that you were to have new clothes based on his own incredibly specific preferences. You were to have nothing made of silk or satin, no lace embroidery or skirts above the knee. Your necklines were to be no lower than your collarbones and the heels on your shoes three inches high at most.

He meant for no one to see you but himself and that only made you more determined to hide yourself from view.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

Days passed, each as slowly as the next, a never ending cycle of silent meals, boredom and your husband’s predictable nightly visits. Every night, just as every night before it, he would close the door to your bedroom and speak the same single word.

“Strip.”

You refused every night and he pressed the matter over and over until he grew tired.

That first night was the only time he ever touched you. He did not lean down for a kiss when he returned to the house. He never once reached for your hands. He would slam the door behind him and stomp around the house but he did not try to drag your clothes off himself.

Weeks passed by, in fact, without you so much as sharing a bed. A lot of the time he did not even eat meals with the rest of the family. The house staff explained that he very often slept away from the main building, in a secluded part of the estate once reserved for his youngest son.

Sometimes you slept naked, just to spite him.

One day, you told yourself, he would get bored of your constant refusals and send you back to your father. Until then you would have to be resilient.

You thought you had everything worked out. You thought you had him all worked out.

As with so many other aspects of your life, though, you soon realised your mistake.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

Three weeks into your marriage, you sat on the porch with a bowl of shaved ice in an attempt to combat the summer heat. By then you knew every square inch of the garden; knew the title of every book in the house. As miserable as it was, the most exciting part of your day was waiting at the gate for your husband, but even that was hours from then.

Your only other source of entertainment was the cat that very often came to bask in the afternoon sun, though more recently had taken to nudging you for pets to the head. On this particular day, it was chasing butterflies through the garden and you laughed as you watched. You wished you could be as free as that cat, coming in and out of this household whenever you pleased. You missed your friends, missed going out for drinks, missed going shopping for new shoes. Hell, you even missed your father. You hadn’t heard from him since the wedding.

You took a spoonful of shaved ice, enjoying the cold against your tongue. For the briefest of moments, all was right in the world.

That is, until the butterfly the cat had been chasing changed course and flew into the house, leaving the cat to follow suit. You set down your bowl and cursed under your breath, getting up to catch it before chaos ensued.

You rushed through the hallways, peering into every corner for the cat or the butterfly and seeing neither. You wondered where they had gone and wandered deeper into the house.

The cat streaked across your path, heading towards the bedrooms and you gave chase, reaching out to catch it and following it through an open door. You didn’t stop to think about which room you had gone into, far too caught up in the euphoria of scooping the cat into your arms. The moment you turned to leave, however, you realised your mistake.

This room was even emptier than the others, save for an altar lined with photographs of the same boy. Touya, you realised. There was no one else it could be.

This was the room Endeavour had told you not to come into and in that moment you understood why. When your mother died, you had been angry at everyone; yourself for every argument you had ever had; your father for allowing such a tragedy to happen. You hadn’t wanted to go to her funeral, didn’t want to accept that any of it was real.

You couldn’t imagine how it felt to lose a child and it must have shown in your body language, for the cat suddenly wriggled out of your arms and escaped through the open door.

You hugged your arms around your body, a chill creeping up your spine. Touya gazed out at you from every photograph, the same stern look in his eyes that Endeavour had. You weren’t supposed to be there and even the room seemed to know.

“What are you doing here?”

Someone called to you from the doorway, dragging you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Natsuo standing there, practically trembling with anger.

“I,” you said, realising how it must have looked. “I’m sorry, I-“

“This is my brother’s room,” he said. “You have no right to be in here.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, “a cat came in here and...I’m sorry...I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn't,” said Natsuo. “Why would you? It’s not like he’d ever tell you the truth. Even the worst of the worst would turn their noses up if they knew.”

He laughed miserably and you wondered what he meant. No one would turn their noses up at a grieving parent.

“How does it feel,” he said, “being married to a murderer?”

At that, your blood ran cold.

“What are you talking about?”

You didn’t like where this conversation was going.

You remembered how you had felt on your wedding day; your observation that Endeavour was more monster than man.

You had fallen so far into good behaviour and small victories that you had forgotten your fear on that first night.

You clapped a hand over your mouth for fear that you’d be sick and stumbled back out of the house. You needed fresh air, needed to escape. You walked along the garden path and didn’t stop, leaving the grounds far behind you.

You knew Endeavour had forbidden you from leaving. You knew he would be furious when he returned home and found you gone. You couldn’t stop, though, walking as far as the business district before finally stopping for air.

You hadn’t planned any sort of escape and it showed. You had no money for train fare and had left your phone in the house.

There was really only one place you could go.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

White Rabbit was the best known hostess bar in Musutafu and for good reason. It was sleek and stylish and, most importantly, discreet. All of its employees were carefully vetted and given months of training, making their debut only when they were as confident at karaoke as they were making cocktails.

The bar didn't open until the evening, but the boss was always on site by noon, crunching numbers and checking stock.

He was polishing glasses at the bar when you walked through the door and it was immediately clear that he didn’t recognise you.

“Ahhh, apologies, we aren’t open just yet!”

“Not even to me?”

He froze when you got a little closer, eying you from head to toe.

“It can’t be… (Name)??!?!”

He set aside the glass before you could answer, rushing out from behind the bar to look at you properly.

“As I live and breathe,” he said, “I didn’t recognise you.”

You glanced at your reflection in a nearby mirror, taking in your sweaty face and modest dress. You weren’t sure you would have recognised yourself either in his position.

He drew you into a hug and it took everything you had not to cry. You were still a minor when you interviewed for a job in his bar, but he took you on anyway, concerned that if left to wander the streets you would end up somewhere far less reputable. He kept you in training until your eighteenth birthday and even then kept you away from one on one sessions until you turned twenty.

He poured you a drink and you gave him the bare bones of the past few weeks, from your sudden marriage to your new role as a stepmother to your husband’s desire for nothing more than to see you naked.

You said nothing of your earlier conversation with Natsuo. That part was still sinking in.

The boss nodded at just the right moments, though didn’t seem at all surprised by anything you told him.

“I did wonder if that would be the case,” he said at last. “I suppose I share some of the blame in this matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...you see...I was the one who told him your name.”

“You what ?”

This wasn’t a betrayal, but it felt like one.

Your boss sighed and took a seat beside you, his own story to tell.

About a year and a half ago a man came into the bar, offering obscene amounts of money for his presence to be kept a secret. He refused to hand over his name and was almost unrecognizable without his costume or fiery beard, but your boss was far too clever to be fooled. He knew within an hour or two that this man was the flame hero and was only too happy to adhere to his requests. If Endeavour became a regular, there was a lot of money in it for him.

It paid off, for Endeavour did indeed become a regular, even if your boss didn’t fully understand his reasons until later. He had no interest in booking company and always ordered the same drink, demanding that only the boss waited on his table. He wanted to be left alone and drink in peace and for months that was exactly what he did.

That all changed about a year ago, when one of the hostesses caught his attention. You. Endeavour still wanted to drink in privacy, with only the boss to attend him, but he also wanted to be positioned where he could see you. You and only you were permitted to mix his drinks.

You could barely believe your ears at this new information. You remembered having to drop whatever you were doing to mix strawberry daiquiris for a VIP, though would never in a million years have guessed it was Endeavour.

The mystery of the Strawberry Daiquiri Man had plagued you for months. You had chatted about it with the other girls and even tried to wheedle details from your boss. He was a professional, though, and far too discreet to let anything slip.

Endeavour’s requests soon got out of hand. He paid extra to have you spend the night at the bar instead of entertaining customers. He gave you hefty tips, he had the boss send you jewellery, all of which you sold shortly after.

About six months ago he asked the boss how much he would have to pay to sleep with you, to which the boss refused to answer. Some things just weren’t for sale, even to a VIP. Of course, as you yourself knew quite well, Endeavour did not take kindly to being told no. He told the boss that he had to have you; he needed you to be his and his alone. After many not too subtle threats, be it asking how fire resistant the bar actually was to implying that he might look the other way the next time he learned of trouble in the area, the boss caved and told him your full name. He offered up no further information, but that was all it took for him to find you.

The rest, as they say, was history. He showed up on your doorstep and bought you from your father, finally possessing you completely.

“I don’t understand,” you said, stirring your soda with your straw. “On our wedding night he said he had no intentions of having sex with me...but you’re telling me he was willing to pay?”

“I think he would have done just about anything for the privilege. I’ve never seen a man so heated...so to speak.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” you said. “Any of it.”

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

The weight of recent revelations was almost too much. With your boss’s blessing, you let yourself into the dressing room upstairs to take a breather and evaluate your situation.

You hadn’t realised how much you missed the familiar scent of stale perfume and pot pourri that lingered in every corner. There was still a pile of glossy magazines on the dressing table; still a set of abandoned pantyhose draped over the stool. You had spent so much time there over the past decade that it felt like coming home.

You were tempted to sit down at the table and indulge yourself further, but had a sudden flash of inspiration. You hadn’t come into this room when you handed in your notice. You had been too upset at the prospect of never coming back. As a consequence, you hadn’t emptied your locker, where you kept a set of spare clothes in case of booze related emergencies.

Your fingers shook as you entered the combination, praying that the boss hadn’t emptied it ahead of hiring a replacement. Fate seemed to be on your side, though, for jeans and an envelope of cash greeted you the moment it clicked open.

You snatched up the envelope and counted the notes. You had always kept a secret stash away from the house, knowing that your father wasn’t above searching your room in search of money. There was enough there for a plane ticket; enough to cover a hotel for several weeks.

You realised that this was your chance to escape.

You also realised that you weren’t going to take it.

Endeavour had found you using just a name. He would almost certainly figure out that one of the first places you would go was the White Rabbit. He had already threatened to burn the bar; who knew what he would do if he got into his head that the boss had helped you flee?

And then there was Natsuo’s revelation. Considering how he felt about you, it wasn’t out of the realms of possibility that he had been lying to you. Perhaps your swift escape was exactly what he wanted.

That said, if Endeavour truly had killed a child, should you leave his children alone with him?

You still had a great many questions. You didn’t understand why Endeavour had wanted so desperately to sleep with you, only to tell you he never would. Why had he gone to such a bar in the first place? What had happened to Touya? Why did your husband live away from the main residence?

There were too many pieces to this puzzle and none of them fitted together, but one thing you knew for certain.

No matter where you went, he would almost certainly track you down. If you went back, at least, it would be on your own terms.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You returned to the house a short while later, just in time for your daily text message from your husband. He always texted you before leaving the office and then again a few minutes later if you had not yet replied. You weren’t sure what would happen if you failed to respond to the second one, largely because waiting for Endeavour to text was the most eventful part of your day.

You responded to the text and then packed away the clothes from your locker. The envelope of money you stashed away in the bathroom, emptying out the bottle of aspirin and rolling your notes inside.

It was like smuggling contraband and easily the most fun you had had since arriving at the house. It gave you a newfound confidence for when your husband came to your room. You were going to ask him about his presence at the bar; you were going to ask him about Touya. You felt brave enough to do just about anything.

That night, though, he didn’t come and you kept yourself awake long into the early hours of the morning, listening out for his footsteps as you had on that first night. Once again, you fell asleep sprawled across the bed, only to be woken by the house staff the following morning.

Endeavour, as it turned out, had outfoxed you.

He had arranged for you to take a trip that weekend to a private onsen in the mountains. As husband and wife you would almost certainly have to share a room and you would have little choice but to take off your clothes.

You scowled in the car all of the way there. This was supposed to be your victory. You were supposed to be the one holding all of the cards.

You refused to undress for him. Just the thought made you angry.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You had to hand it to him. The mountains were beautiful.

You peered out of the window as you arrived in your room, taking in the sight of the summer flowers and open air. It almost distracted you from the elephant in the room; the single futon you would share for the night. You refused to think about it, grateful for the simple hiking trail around the property. You occupied yourself with admiring the view, wandering ahead of Endeavour and snapping pictures on your phone of the skyline.

Your stomach churned as you sat down to dinner, time steadily running out. You had no idea how you were going to get out of this. You couldn’t think of a single scenario where you came out on top. You stared into space as you showered your body, fastening your towel far tighter than was necessary and pinning your hair loosely in the hopes that it would fall.

Despite the steam and summer heat, you shivered as you stepped out towards the bath. Under ordinary circumstances you would have been excited at the prospect of relaxing under the stars, but right then you were terrified. You clenched your hands into fists to hide how much they shook.

The simmering heat; the silent night. Was this how it felt to enter a dragon’s lair?

“Sit there,” said Endeavour, pointing to the side of the bath.

You blinked.

You had expected him to watch you undress. Why, then, was he instructing you to sit away from the water?

Your bewilderment must have shown in your face, for he sighed deeply.

“Just sit there,” he said, sounding just as frustrated as every time you had refused him.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you went to sit down where he had asked. Endeavour waited for you to be fully seated before stepping towards the water. He looked you straight in the eye and then cast aside the towel covering his waist.

You willed yourself to be modest and look away from his nakedness, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

When he wore clothes he was imposing.

Without them he was magnificent.

He had a broad chest and sculpted waist, all of which was covered in a fine layer of hair. The evening sunlight cast shadows across his muscles, highlighting every contour and scar. He practically shone where the water touched him and your mouth ran dry.

His hair grew thicker on the lower half of his body, though it did nothing to hide how thick his thighs were, nor the sheer enormity of his cock even while flaccid. You caught yourself staring at it, wondering how big it would be at full tilt. If his fingers were anything to go by, it would leave you limping for days.

Your stomach fluttered, though not from fear. Had his jawline always been so sharp? Had his eyes always been so bright?

It was as if he had been carved from stone and he let you stare at him, not in the least bit self conscious. He sat down in the water and leaned back against the edge you were sitting on, close enough that you could reach him if you wanted to.

You realised with horror that you did.

“Something wrong?”

“N-no,” you said, turning away to look over the horizon. “Nothing.”

You weren’t used to this sort of desire. It crept over you unbidden, like the steam from the bath.

You closed your eyes, taking in the sounds of birdsong and gurgling water.

“Move over,” you said, shifting positions.

“Wh-”

Endeavour turned to you, mystified.

“Don’t look,” you pouted, getting to your feet and fiddling with your towel. You cast it aside like a second skin and stepped down into the ghostly waters

The water was hotter than you had thought; it prickled your skin as you sank. You didn’t know why you were surprised. Endeavour was a flame hero, it made sense that he was used to heat.

He simmered next to you even then, warmth radiating from his body.

You sank down to your collar bones, shielding as much of your body from view as you did when fully clothed. You sat in silence, listening to the sound of birds overhead. You realised that this was the longest you had been alone with your husband since the wedding.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Hmm?”

“For the jewellery.”

You still hadn’t gotten the chance to thank him. The only time he normally spoke to you was when he asked you to undress. It was leagues out of the ordinary and he seemed to think so too, for he stayed quiet for a few seconds.

Finally he nodded his head and grunted by way of response.

“You don’t wear them,” he said.

“No. They’re just so beautiful...I’m afraid I might ruin them.”

He fell quiet again at that, awkwardness bleeding out of his words when he next spoke.

“I would like it...if you wore them.”

Perhaps it was the change in your surroundings; perhaps it was your mutual state of undress. Whatever the explanation, this was not the man who had grabbed your arm on that first night. This one was subdued and clumsy in his kindness and you wondered which one was real.

You hugged your knees to your chest, just as you had on your wedding night. This time, though, you did not cry.

“Endeavour,” you said.

“Hmmm?”

“What happened to Touya?”

He stiffened at that and, for a second, you were sure the water burned. You realised that you had certainly poked at a sore spot, but knew it would be a long time before you got such an opportunity again.

“Why are you asking about that?”

The tension in his body showed in his voice too.

“I just...I’ve heard... certain things.”

“Like what?”

You chose your words carefully, making sure not to name Natsuo.

“I heard that...well…”

You turned to look at him and he glared right back, searching your face for hints at what you were about to ask.

“Well? Spit it out.”

You told yourself that this was no time to be afraid.

“I heard he was dead...and…”

“And I killed him?”

You closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

Endeavour sighed, sinking down into the water.

You willed him to tell you it was a lie; a bit of maliciousness on his son’s part. In Natsuo’s place you would have done the same.

He didn’t, though.

“That’s right,” he said. “I did kill him.”

Despite the heat from the water, the steam, from him, his words sent shivers down his spine. He said it as casually as if you’d asked if he had remembered to pack a handkerchief.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” He asked. “Does it make you feel better?”

He moved to get to his feet, but you reached for his arm. He froze on the spot at your touch and you realised that this was the first time you had touched him of your own volition.

“Wait,” you said, taking advantage of his hesitation. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“I’m your wife,” you said. “Right now it’s my main concern.”

You had him and you knew it. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and cursed under his breath, though didn’t try to shrug you off.

“Fine,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. From the beginning.”

You didn’t want to flinch from this. You wouldn’t flinch from this. He was a pro hero and there had to be a reason, even if it wasn’t one you wanted to hear.

“Touya was my first born,” he said. “My first attempt.”

“Attempt? Attempt at what?”

He glared at you and you fell silent.

“I’ve been the number two since I was twenty,” he said. “I knew I always would be even then. With my own strength, I could never beat All Might. Another’s strength, though, refined and perfected…"

He lifted a hand out of the water and clenched it into a fist, the water on his hand turning to steam.

“My knowledge...my techniques,” he said, “everything I am and more…”

“And that was Touya?”

“Touya,” he nodded, “and then Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shoto. Until we got to Shoto not one of them was perfect. Fuyumi and Natsuo both favoured their mother’s side of the family. Touya favoured fire, but inherited his mother’s constitution.”

“Constitution?”

“R-My ex wife is an ice user. When Touya got his quirk, he set himself on fire,” he said. “My body is built to burn, but his wasn’t. His was built to insulate and trap heat to protect against the cold. However hot his flames burned, his body burned twice over. If he used his quirk for too long, he broke out in blisters and burns. Fire users run hotter than most people and Touya…well...his flames ran hotter than mine.”

You swore you saw him smile at that. You got the feeling he meant it in more ways than one.

“Shoto is my heir,” he said. “He is the perfect combination of fire and ice. His body does not burn or freeze. That one will achieve what I could not…”

“But…”

“...but it came at a cost. Namely, my ex wife’s mental state. I made a lot of mistakes...did some things I’m not proud of. One day I… heard Shoto screaming. His mother had burned him. I’ve never heard a noise like it. I don’t think I ever will.”

“If she was an ice user, how did she burn him?”

“Kettle.”

“Oh.”

“She’s in a hospital now,” he said. “I had her taken away. Our marriage was over.”

“Because she hurt your son?”

“She damaged my property.”

You didn’t know why you were surprised to hear him speak such a way of his children when he had told your boss that he had to possess you. Even so, it stung.

Not to mention, you still had questions.

“But… what does this have to do with Touya?”

“He was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Rei, my ex wife...Touya’s death was what truly broke her in the end.”

“What happened to him?”

“One day, in training, we both lost our temper. His technique was wrong; he’d been slacking off; he hadn’t taken heed of any of my lessons. He told me he didn’t want to be a hero, which was ridiculous. Of course he’d be one. Once he managed to endure his own flames, he would be an even stronger flame user than me.”

You had a feeling you knew what was coming next.

“He was angry that day. I told him he’d be a hero whether he wanted to or not and he told me that he’d rather die. In the end...he chose death. I sent him away...somewhere he could still be of use. A government program...They told me later that he burned his flames far hotter than he ever had before, so hot that he burned himself alive. He died in the hospital two days later. The doctors told me that even if he had survived, he would have needed full body skin grafts and the kickback from his quirk would be far more severe than before.”

Endeavour closed his eyes, leaning back against the water’s edge.

“I don’t understand,” you said, “Touya killed himself. That wasn’t you.”

“I didn’t hand Rei the kettle either,” he said, “but I might as well have.”

You weren’t sure what to say. It felt inappropriate somehow. In the end, you settled on your own suspicions.

“How long ago...with Rei, I mean? When did she leave?”

“Two years ago. Why?”

“No reason,” you said. “I was just curious, is all.”

You weren’t lying; you really were curious, just not necessarily in the way he thought. He didn’t know that you had talked to your boss and, consequently, knew he had started coming to the White Rabbit only a matter of months after his wife’s hospital admission.

The pieces of the puzzle were changing shape, though you still couldn’t quite see the greater picture. You still couldn’t understand why he had married you; why he had so desperately needed to possess you, only to hold you at a distance. There was a reason somewhere and you were infuriatingly close to finding it.

Endeavour watched you, no doubt trying to gauge your reaction. He did not seem to approve of your silence and stood up once again, getting up out of the baths and reaching for his towel.

“Wait,” you said, turning to face him.

You wanted to thank him for telling you the truth; for exposing himself to you so unapologetically.

You stood up yourself and exposed your own body, though only to waist level. You straightened your back and looked him dead in the eye in an attempt to hide how nervous you actually were. You might have worked in a hostess bar, but no man had ever seen you naked. You waited there in silence, watching as he took in the swell of your breasts and shade of your nipples. You wondered what sort of expectations he might have harboured and if the real thing lived up to them. Whatever the case may be, he finally gathered his composure with a ‘tccch’ and stormed back inside.

You decided to count that one as a victory.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You stayed in the bath for a while longer before returning to your room.

You realised as you reached for the door handle that you had forgotten all about the shared futon, which filled you with a far different sort of fear than before. You now knew what your husband looked like without his clothes; if you slept beside him you wouldn’t get any sleep. All it would take was a brush of his body against yours to leave you thinking about how he had looked climbing out of the water.

To your surprise, Endeavour seemed to have already anticipated this. During your absence, he had swapped the double bed for two singles, along with a shield to divide both beds. Your husband had already gone to sleep with his back to the barricade, snoring softly.

It was a kind gesture and you couldn’t help but smile as you changed into your nightclothes and tucked yourself into bed, eyes darting to the shield and your husband’s silhouette. Even then, laid on his side, his back was broader than any you’d seen. You wondered how it might feel to drag your nails across it and then cursed yourself for doing so.

He was just a man, you told yourself. There were millions of them in the world.

You hadn’t seen all of them naked, though.

You didn’t want them as you wanted him.

He slept with his back to the shield, but you slept facing it, smoothing your fingertips over the wood until you fell asleep.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

The next few weeks were a new brand of torture.

The summer grew even hotter and you spent much of your time on the porch, drinking iced tea and fanning yourself to no avail. No matter how many ice cold baths you took, no matter how few clothes you wore as you slept, no matter how many windows you opened, nothing could cool you down and you feared the summer heat wasn’t entirely to blame.

Your husband no longer begged you to undress. Since returning from the onsen he had not come to your room at all and it bothered you more than you liked to admit.

You wondered if you had made a terrible mistake by letting him see you.

Every time you crossed paths in the house, you caught yourself eying the parts of his clothes that pulled against his muscles, knowing what lay beneath.

It was a problem.

You were starting to want him to come to your room. You wanted him to beg and plead to see more of you, just so you could have the pleasure of telling him no.

You wanted his attention, wanted to feel his gaze on your body, though had to settle for your own fingers. You touched yourself every night that he neglected you, running a hand between your legs and tentatively running your finger across your clit, which had never seen so much attention in the twenty seven years you had walked the earth.

You would think of him as you dipped your fingers into your folds, thinking of how much bigger his hands were than yours. You wondered how much he would have to warm you up before you could comfortably take his cock.

Every night you touched yourself and brought yourself to a boil, though it did nothing to ease the pressure inside of you. You would lay there, flat on your back and legs trembling, pleasure overtaking each of your senses, and none of it would be enough. It didn’t matter how hard you came, how much you changed positions or technique, your real desire ran far deeper.

One night, two and a half months after your wedding, you gave up on trying to make yourself cum.

You wanted him to want you so you could push him away...

You wanted him to want you...

You wanted him…

You wanted…

“Fuck,” you hissed, flopping back against the covers. “Ffffuck.”

You were sure you were going crazy. Every time he passed you now, you had to squeeze your thighs together.

This was how it felt to suffocate.

This was how it felt to die.

...die….

The word lingered at the back of your mind.

How ironic that only a short time ago you had told the same man that you’d rather die than let him see you naked, let alone touch you.

You closed your eyes, only for them to snap right back open. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position and stared across at your reflection in the dressing table mirror.

Could it really have been that simple?

You thought back to Endeavour’s tale at the onsen; his son’s last words before burning himself alive.

I’d rather die.

They were the same as yours on your wedding night and only now did you make the connection. Endeavour had stared into the mirror then too, and you had always assumed it was your reflection that made him flinch. You knew now, though, that you were wrong. He had been looking at his own.

That realisation was your rosetta stone, leaving every other piece of information to fall into place.

He had introduced you to his children as their new mother, for in his mind he had ruined the last one. What was it he had called Touya? His first attempt? He had told you without a hint of hesitation that each of his children had been born in the hopes of improving upon the last. Refined and perfected...an extension of himself.

You realised that the same was true of your marriage.

Losing his son and sending his wife away to a hospital had almost certainly brought to light a number of harsh truths. You weren’t the only one who had looked at him and seen a monster.

Just like Rei, you were the means to an end.

You were an exercise in self control.

He had held himself at a distance to prove to himself that he could. He had chosen to keep you chaste and childless because he desired the opposite and acting on his previous desires had ended in disaster.

Just like that, you understood your situation.

You knew what you had to do.

You got up from the bed and rummaged through your wardrobe, dragging out the pile of clothes you had smuggled out of the White Rabbit . Among your jeans and spare shoes was a silk nightgown, left behind for the occasions you slept at the bar. You pulled it on like a second skin, giving yourself a twirl and watching in the mirror as the fabric caught the light.

Next, you reached into your dressing table drawers for the various pieces of jewellery he had given you over the past few weeks. For the first time in over a decade, you took out your mother’s earrings and swapped them with the shining diamond ones from your husband.

You combed out your hair and fastened your nightgown so tightly that it hid how bare you were underneath, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before leaving the room. You paused in the kitchen, a wry smile breaking out across your face at the scheme coming to mind.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You had never been to the empty side of the property where Endeavour lived. You had no idea how he occupied himself when he wasn’t at work or sitting in stoic silence. You wondered what he was doing as you slipped away from the house, the moonlight shining on your pale nightgown.

You never did find out, knowing only that his voice rumbled through the door as you knocked.

You took a deep breath and opened the door, finally able to relate to your gambler of a father. This was just as much of a gamble as a round of poker, even if you knew you held all of the cards.

He had been getting ready for bed, wearing loose jogging pants and a tank that left little to the imagination. You weren’t sure who exactly he expected to visit at such a time of day, but you knew within an instant that it wasn’t you, much less as you were now. His eyes darted from your opalescent nightgown to your loose hair, to the earrings that twinkled as they hit the lamplight, to the blood red cocktails you had mixed before leaving.

Strawberry Daiquiris, stained red with Grenadine. Your speciality. His favourite.

“What are you doing here?”

You didn’t answer, instead walking straight past him.

As you had suspected, this house was a near perfect copy of the main building and you made your way to the bedroom as if by heart. You stopped at the door to the master bedroom, turning back to check if he followed, just as he had on the day of your wedding.

You were not nearly as nervous this time around.

This time you wanted him to swallow you whole.

He had not followed you, preferring to watch you prowl his home as if it belonged to you. You reached for the door handle and cocked an eyebrow.

“Well? Are you coming?”

That was enough to leave him lumbering forwards.

You stepped inside of the bedroom, waiting for him to follow before taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

“What are y-”

“Peppermint,” you said, to which he appeared confused.

“Peppermint?”

“It’s my safe word. What’s yours?”

He scratched his chin, though stepped closer. You got the feeling he had never had to think of one before, much less used one.

“I don’t have one,” he said at last. “Never needed one.”

“Peppermint it is, then,” you said, before straightening your back, a near perfect imitation of his own body language. “Now. Strip.”

Of all of the things you could have said, he definitely hadn’t been expecting that. He took another step closer.

“Undress me,” he said.

“No.”

He took another step closer, too close, and you lifted a leg, gently pressing your foot to his belly to retain the distance.

He was a big man, realistically speaking. If he wanted to, he could easily have swatted your leg away and taken command.

He took a step back, though, and peeled off his shirt, exposing his broad chest and defined stomach. You did not bother to be discreet, brazenly admiring his body and biting your bottom lip.

You were still holding your leg up, ready to hold him back if he came closer. He glanced from your leg to your hungry expression, before sighing and dropping his pants. He had not been wearing any sort of underwear and you took a sip of your drink, making a point to lick your lips as you dropped your leg.

He came closer and you stretched out your other arm, offering up the second cocktail.

Not only did he take it, but he swallowed it in one gulp, reaching up to rub the red smears from his lips. You downed your own and passed him the glass, taking the chance to admire his butt as he turned to place them on the nearest counter. There was something oddly satisfying about watching a naked man enjoy one of your drinks, especially when said naked man was as well built as this one.

He turned to look at you and this time you motioned for him to come closer. You continued to do so as he stepped forwards, only stopping to motion for him to get down on his knees. You fully expected him to protest at this point, but he dropped down immediately, looking up into your face with flushed cheeks.

You ran your fingers through his hair, wondering how you had ever been afraid of this man.

You lifted both of your legs, balancing one on each of his shoulders and reaching up to wipe the leftover syrup from your own lips. He ran his fingers over your exposed skin and spread you wide as you leaned back. You closed your eyes as you felt his warm breath on your cunt, willing him to touch you there.

Nothing could have prepared you, though, for how it would feel when he actually did. All it took was a stroke of his thumb across your clit to leave your mind falling blank. You gasped, back arching from the bed before you could stop it. He held you tighter, though did not continue, catching your eye the moment you opened them.

“Do...do that again,” you said, eyes rolling back into your head when he did.

He didn’t touch you with his lips at first, instead stroking his fingers around your folds, exploring the parts of you that he had wanted so badly. He chuckled at how wet you were, slipping the tip of his finger into you and swirling your wetness across your clit, sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine. He kissed the inside of your thigh and pinched a patch of your skin between his teeth. It would leave a mark in the morning and you didn’t care at all.

He parted your folds with one hand and held you open with the other, ghosting his tongue over your clit. You dug your nails into the bedcovers with a sigh and he ran his tongue across your flesh, sending a shudder of pleasure rocketing through your core. He turned his tongue in a figure of eight and wrote his name with his tongue, branding your cunt in the softest of ways.

You reached down to stroke your fingers through his hair, wanting to hold him there forever. He slipped a finger in then, though, and you dug your nails into his scalp. You had considered before how large his fingers were and it was apparent to you even then. He sucked at your clit and took it slowly, angling his finger to find that particular patch of nerves that would turn your insides to jelly. His touches made your stomach flutter, your legs quivering every time he made contact. You were grateful for his firm hand on your waist. Left to your own devices, you would almost certainly have been squirming in delight and grinding against his face.

He dipped his finger in and out and you willed him to go faster. The touches he didn’t make drove you just as crazy as the ones he did.

“Please,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair. “Oh g-”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He pumped his finger into you so quickly that you could hear the wet sound every time he made contact. You arched your back into him, the pressure building in your core and threatening to overflow. The combination of his tongue and finger was overwhelming.

He added another finger and you snatched up the hand that had been gripping the bedcovers, digging your teeth into your fist to stifle your moans. You were close...so close and you needed some form of anchor. He didn’t seem to approve of that, though, for he let go of your waist and reached up to take it, holding you tightly as you cried out in delight.

Your stomach fluttered with butterfly light flashes of pleasure, so close to the real thing and yet so far. You couldn’t think of anything more than the growing tension within you. You stretched an arm over your head and dug your nails into the bedcovers, crying out at how close you really were.

He stopped then, though, and peered up at you through the valley of your breasts, smirking at how flushed your cheeks were. He sat up and crawled up on the bed, planting both hands on either side of your head. You wrapped your legs around his waist before you could stop yourself, linking your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss, biting at his lips and sighing when he pushed his tongue against yours. You tightened your legs around him, relishing the feel of his stomach against yours and hard dick against your thighs.

You came back to earth as he tugged at your nightgown, a stark reminder of why you had gone to him in the first place.

You pushed both hands onto his chest and he allowed you to guide him, rolling over onto his back without a word of complaint. You sat up to straddle him, crushing your lips against his before sitting up to pull the tie from your nightgown.

His eyes brightened up at the slightest flash of your body, but it didn’t last for long. He reached a hand to drag away the final barrier between you, but you slapped away his hand. He seemed confused until you lifted the tie, finally understanding your real intentions.

You refused to be his experiment; refused to be docile and fragile because he said so. Your teeth were as sharp as his and he would not control you without your permission, just as you would not try to command him without his own.

He gave you a nod and sat up just a little, enough for you to drape the tie over his eyes and loop it into a simple knot. You waved a hand in front of his face and checked the gap as he laid back down, ensuring that he couldn’t see before sitting up straight and tossing aside the nightgown.

You sat down onto your hands and knees, planting soft kisses along his neck and shoulders. You kept them gentle until you reached his collar bone, at which point you sank your teeth into his skin, enough to leave a bruise but not to break the skin. He inhaled sharply and for a moment you wondered if you had gone too far, though that worry did not last for long. He reached up to stroke a hand across your exposed back, running his fingertips across your spine as you moved further down the bed.

If you had felt intimidated by the size of his dick before, you definitely were now that it was hard. It stood taller than any toy you had ever seen, much less owned, with a slight curve and prominent veins. He shuddered as you traced a single finger across one of the veins, fidgeting as you put that same finger between your lips and made an overly theatrical sucking sound, making sure to pop your lips as you pulled it back out.

“Oy,” he said, “that’s mean.”

“So am I,” you said, reaching up to squeeze your fingers around his shaft, slowly pumping your hand up and down and making sure to squeeze that much tighter as your fingers reached the tip. You leaned over and ran your tongue over the underside of his dick, mimicking the movements of your fingers until you were ready to take him into your mouth. You continued to pump your fist around his dick and bobbed your head along with the pace, making sure to suck him harder and harder and smack your lips whenever you let go.

“Fucking ffffff,” he snarled, reaching for your hair and gathering it in his hand to pin you in place. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

You made your feelings on the matter quite clear, spitting on his tip and giving him a quick stroke before taking all of him into your mouth, pushing your free hand against the bedframe and crushing the space between your thumb and forefinger, weakening your gag reflex and relishing the feel of him against your throat.

You were a virgin; not an angel. You’d watched your share of pornography.

He snarled in delight and you let go, pumping his dick far more furiously than before. You lowered the hand you had crushed against the bedframe and gave it a couple of quick clenches to restore sensation before running your fingers over your own poor, neglected clit. You touched your tongue to his dick, swirling it around the head and moaning into him whenever a pang of pleasure rushed through you.

You stole a glance at him and enjoyed what you saw. There was something sinfully sweet about the world’s number two hero falling apart at the touch of your tongue.

You wondered if anyone had given him head before.

Maybe you’d ask him when this was over.

You could tell he was close from his ragged breaths and increasingly tight grip on your hair. You didn’t know how much longer you would last either. You wanted him inside of you and found yourself jealous of your own lips and tongue.

You let go of him and crawled up the bed, straddling his waist and yanking off the makeshift blindfold. He stared up at you, drinking you in as he had the strawberry daiquiri. He reached up a hand to touch your breast and this time you let him, cupping the other yourself as you ground your pussy against him.

“Do you want me?” You asked through half-lidded eyes.

You knew the answer, but you wanted him to say it.

“Yes.”

“All of me?”

“And more.”

He swallowed drily, reaching out for your hip.

“Do you want me ?”

You closed your eyes, considering it. In truth, you did want him. You wanted his broad shoulders; wanted his rough edges; wanted his ambitions; wanted his guilt. Most of all, you wanted the lambswool he had so carefully hidden behind tiger stripes.

You smiled, considering your return to the house after your trip to the White Rabbit; the money you had tucked away in an aspirin bottle and never touched since.

“If I didn’t want you,” you said, opening your eyes and leaning your head to the side, “I wouldn’t be here.”

You sat up onto your knees and adjusted your position, taking his dick into your hand and sliding yourself down onto it. It was so much bigger than his fingers and took you a moment to adjust. You ground your hips, holding onto the hand he had placed on your hip. He loosened his grip to link his fingers with yours, holding you tight as you grew accustomed to his girth.

You rocked yourself, taking him slowly until you couldn’t stand it any longer. You arched your back and slammed yourself onto him, reaching up one hand to grab your hair and lift it over your shoulders, exposing you completely and giving him the perfect view of your bouncing breasts. The other you rested on your clit, frantically rubbing it every time your hips collided.

He squeezed your breasts; he held your hips; he groaned as you took him in. You planted your hand on his firm chest, slowing up as the tension inside of you broke.

“I’m coming,” you moaned, “oh god, I’m…”

You never got to finish that sentence, for the euphoria was too much. Your mind fell blank, the room fell into slow motion and you fell still for fear of ending the moment too soon. You cried out every time your insides squeezed around him and Endeavour watched, absorbing not only the tightness around his cock, but your own loss of control.

He pushed you backwards and spread your legs wide, pushing into you as you lay in a satisfied haze. You reached up to stroke his face as he slammed himself into you, sitting up onto his knees and holding your legs wide open as you fucked you harder. You could do nothing but watch and, in truth, you didn’t want to. It was as if all of the bones had left your body, pleasure washing over you like waves against the shore.

He bit your neck; you dragged your nails over his back. The time for common sense was gone and all you had left were animal instincts, every former pretense shattering around you like summer heat in a thunderstorm.

You dropped your hands to the bed and let him fuck you, losing track of where one wave of release came and another ended. He came with a roar, dragging himself out just in time to spill all over your stomach and breasts. You had expected him to come inside of you and found yourself oddly proud that he hadn’t.

You lay there for quite some time, catching your breath and rubbing your legs against his waist. He stared down at you as the fog lifted and he came back to earth, taking in the bite marks and puddle of semen he had left on your body. He hadn’t come out of it much better; scratches and bite marks on his neck, arms and most certainly his back.

The pair of you looked as bloody, bruised and dazed as if you had fought off a bear and you couldn’t help but smirk, admiring the tiger stripes and leopard spots you had left on each other.

He was yours and you were his.

Both of you human; both of you beasts.

#endeavor x reader #enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki #todoroki enji #boku no hero academia #eisc

322 notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Text

Temptations

Note - For the lovely @justagirlinafandomworld 's challenge! And for my sweet fellow hoes @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817

Hope y'all like it❤❤ Also a prequel of sorts to new years eve.

Summary - You know you only want him because you can't have him. But you still can't help yourself.

Warnings - smut, cheating, spanking, name calling, light anal stuff, like a small mention of choking (blink and you'll miss it).

Prompts - "I was fine before I met you" + Toxic cover by Sofia Karlberg for @justagirlinafandomworld

"Did you just....smack my ass?" + "Shh...be good for me" for navy and siri.

Pairing - Ransom Drysdale x reader

Word count - 4k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Your mother always told you to find a man who could take care of you.

Love doesn’t bring food on the table or a roof over your head.

Don’t be like your sister.

Don’t let those Disney movies fool you.

This is a materialistic world and money is the universal language.

As a kid it was annoying. Even more so when you fell for a guy, who your mother certainly didn’t approve of, who ended up breaking your heart into a million little pieces.

You learned as a teen; that the fairytales did lie to you. Love isn’t some magical force which is completely out of one’s control. You could love anyone if you tried hard enough.

Having grown up poor you always yearned for those sparkly things. So you made sure to make friends with some rich kids in college. But deep down you knew they only ever saw you as a charity case. A story, a means to diversify their social circle.

Which is why you took your mothers advice. Trapped your college roommates brother. Bryce. He was alright. But nothing more than that. You did care for him. But you lied whenever you told him that he was more to you. That he was a part of you.

Your soul ached every time you said ‘I love you’ to him. Because you didn’t mean it. It was all a lie. A farce. You wondered if he loved you as much as he claimed he did.

Even though you knew the answer. He didn’t.

He was the black sheep of his family. You knew he only dated you to get some sort of revenge on them. Wanting to be different and go against the flow. He secretly relished in how much his mother hated you. How you weren’t from old money. Or any sort of money.

As if being rich inherently makes you worthy.

Which was also why he had bought you along to meet his friends.

That’s when you saw him.

You knew he was trouble the minute you laid eyes on him. His chestnut hair swept back. The blue cable knit sweater he wore bringing out the blue of his cold hard eyes. Which also really did nothing to hide his large frame.

His long tan coat swirled around as he walked towards you. It was something you noticed. He walked with purpose. As if he owned the damn place.

You watched Bryce embrace him in a tight hug. They were apparently friends since middle school. You gulped down cowering under his intense gaze as he shook your hand.

You exhaled a shaky breathe, the warmth his hand electrifying your nerves. You quickly excused yourself, afraid that you were being too obvious about your instant attraction to him. That if you stayed in the vicinity of him you’d do something you would come to regret later.

You came out to the garden. Taking in the fresh air. Away from the rich people. And their suffocating stench.

You jumped when you heard Ransom call out your name.

You turned around to look at him. Only now he had shed his coat and sweater and was only dressed in a tight white shirt. Which was really messing with your head.

“You don’t like the party?” He asked. Very aware of the effect he had on you. It wasn’t very hard to tell. You weren’t exactly being subtle.

“Oh uh... that’s not it. I just needed some air.” You nodded to yourself. Playing with your hands to keep occupied as he stepped closer to you. Crowding you with the musky scent of his cologne.

“You mind if I keep you company?” He asked but he didn’t really expect an answer. With the way you refused to even look at his face he doubted you’d give him one.

He bought his hand up to play with your hair. Twirling a strand between his fingers. “I hope to see you this Christmas.” He smirked at the cute confused expression you gave him after you finally looked up at him. “We’re going to the Bahamas? Ring any bells?” He said as if he was talking to a child. You only shook your head no. “I’ll make sure Bryce brings you along then.” He drawled tracing your cheek and jaw with his finger.

“Ransom what’re you doing?” You stammered looking around to make sure no one was around.

“I’m not doing anything.” He shrugged parting your lips with his thumb.

“Yes you are!” You scolded him but kept your voice low. “Someone will see.” You tried to take his hand off of your face but it only made him grab a tight hold of your jaw.

“Now don’t play all innocent with me.” He laughed cruelly as you hissed under his harsh touch. “I saw those fuck me eyes you were giving me.” He leaned in so close to you that you could feel his hot breath fanning on your face. “What? You think you can just tease anyone you want and get away with it? It might work on other idiots but not me.”

You squirmed in his hold, fighting him to free yourself. But he was much stronger than you.

He sneered at your resistance and leaned in to whisper in your ear. “I’ll see you this Christmas.” He said. His tone letting on that he wasn’t done with you. He abruptly let go of you giving you a grin and walking away.

You stuck by Bryce’s side the rest of the night. You thought Ransom wouldn’t try anything when Bryce was right there. But the way Bryce was fawning over ransom you had a feeling he probably would let Ransom fuck you in front of him.

You were almost impressed by how charming and casual he was when spoke to you in front of Bryce and all his friends. No one would suspect a thing.

Hell he had you fooled. Was the encounter in the garden your imagination? Was your mind playing tricks on you.

You decided that it absolutely wasn’t when you felt Ransom pinch your behind as he helped you into the uber. You gasped loudly plumping down in the backseat. Staring at Ransom completely take aback.

“You okay babe.” You heard Bryce mumbled beside you, his eyes shut as he leaned against the glass window. Too drunk to notice what was going on right next to him.

“Yeah you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Ransom put his hand on your shoulder. A faux look of concern on his face.

“I’m totally fine!” You held your breathe trying to close your door but his huge body was blocking it.

“Make sure to bring this one along Bryce.” He was speaking to Bryce but his eyes were glued to you. “You have a good night sweetheart.”

You sat completely still not moving a single muscle as he pressed a light barely there kiss to your cheek.

You felt like you could finally breathe after getting far, far away from him.

You made a thousand excuses trying your best to convince Bryce that you just can’t make it. But he wasn’t having any of it.

“I never ask you for anything. I don’t know. Maybe we’re not the right fit for each other.” He had said threatening to break up with you.

You found yourself resenting him even more. How he couldn’t stand up to his 'friend’ and just say no. That you can’t make it. How hard could it possibly be?

You didn’t know who was more pathetic. You or Bryce.

How even after how sleazy Ransom acted around you, you still found yourself thinking of him whenever you dipped your fingers between your thighs. How you wished with every fibre of your being to just let him have his way with you. Why can’t you be bad just this once?

You were down right terrified of ransom maybe the thrill was the reason you were so attracted to him. Giving you an adrenaline rush you actually mistook for any sort of attraction. Or at least that’s how you choose to justify it.

You arrived at your hotel before Ransom. Meeting up with a few of Bryce’s friends. Binging on margaritas. That you almost forgot about why you were so anxious in the first place.

Your joy didn’t last long. As he showed up. The first thing you noticed was how his hair was a few inches longer. No longer styled with gel, messed up from his flight. He only seemed to mess it up further as he ran a hand through his hair.

As you expected he was inconspicuous. Not giving you anymore attention than the others. Which only made you want him more.

Why would he just ignore you after giving you so much attention last time. Even if said attention was unwanted.

You didn’t dare look too long at him. You did steal some glances. He did catch you a couple of times. But if he noticed he didn’t let it show.

After the long day you had laid flat on your comfy mattress. Almost asleep when you felt Bryce’s prying hands working on taking off your dress.

“I’m so tired babe.” You pecked his lips hoping that’d be the end of it. You really were exhausted from the cat and mouse game you played with Ransom.

Bryce made a sound of disapproval. “I took you on such a nice vacation. The least you can do is say thank you.” He demanded.

Not really having it in you to argue any further with him, you got down on your knees and took him in your mouth. Working him up with your hands and tongue. He never could last that long and you knew all his weaknesses.

“God shit will you do something about your hair” He chided trying to bunch your hair up in a ponytail.

You rolled your eyes and looked for your hair tie. Tying your hair up in a haphazard ponytail before getting back to business. He finished in just a few minutes. Collapsing on his side of the bed. “Just wake me up in a few hours babe. I’ll take care of you then.” His words muffled by his pillow.

You could only scoff at that. As if. He had yet to make you cum even once. You had become quite the actress by faking it with him.

You decided to take a long shower to wash your long day off. You slipped your fingers in your heat. To take matters into your own hands.

You tried your best to think of a hot celebrity or literally anyone else but him. But your mind kept coming back to Ransom. How his huge wrist would look wrapped around your throat. How you could mess up his hair as he ate you out.

Ultimately you became too frustrated with yourself, thinking of someone else, your boyfriends friend at that, in such a an inappropriate way. This wasn’t like you.

You gave up. Knowing you wouldn’t find release. Not with the heavy guilt lingering in the back of your mind.

You couldn’t sleep. You kept tossing and turning. But then you’d had enough. You put on a robe and headed towards Ransoms room. You knocked on it twice before he opened the door.

He stood in just his boxer briefs in front of you. And you had to do everything in your power to keep your eyes on his face and not let them fall down. To feast on his broad chest, the dark hair splattered on it, his washboard abs and that damn happy trail.

“This better be good.” He growled. obviously too upset that you disturbed his sleep.

“I...” you trailed off letting your eyes wander to his chest and the trail of dark brown hair leading to his black, tight, boxers “just couldn’t sleep.” You continued trying your best to focus.

“Come on in then.” Just like that. That fucking smirk was back on his face.

You took a deep breathe walking into his room. Wondering what the fuck you were even doing here. “How have you been?” You tried to make small talk.

Turning around to look at him. In a split second, before you could even comprehend what was happening he crashed his lips on yours, stealing your breathe. You sighed moaning into the kiss as his tongue invaded your mouth. It was messy and sloppy and everything you’d ever want from a kiss.

You both pulled away when the need to breathe took over your need for each other.

You panted running your hands up and down his chest to feel him.

“Why are you really here?” He asked pulling your chin up to make you look at him. When you wouldn’t answer he snaked a hand into your shorts. Letting out a satisfied hum with just how wet you were.

You whimpered as his warm fingertips grazed your nether folds. Teasing you so cruelly. Not really giving you what you so desperately wanted. “You know why I’m here.” You purred.

“Not good enough. I’m gonna need you to fucking say it.” He spit pushing a finger inside you.

Your breath hitched as he added another one, staring at you intently as he pumped them in and out of you. “No!” You cried. Trying to pry his hand out of your sleep shorts. “This is wrong. No!”

“Stop it!” He chided pinching your clit as you winced. “You can act innocent all you want. But I know just how much of a slut you are. Look at this.” He captured your cries and whimpers in a kiss as he curled his fingers inside you “Look how fucking wet you are for me.” He said before kissing you again.

“No. That’s not true.” You whined shaking your head “I was fine before I met you!” You were good. He was the one that awoke something dark and primal inside you. This was all his fault.

He chuckled at your foolishness. He wondered if you really believed that. Not that it mattered to him. He added a third finger to stretch your tight heat, get you ready for him. But he couldn’t wait anymore. Not with just how painfully hard he was.

He pulled his fingers from your shorts and pushed you down on your knees. With little to no resistance, you kneeled in front of him.

He took his hard cock out of his uncomfortable briefs, smudging his precum on your lips. “You know what to do. Be a good slut.” He instructed pulling on your messy ponytail as you took his head in your mouth. Sucking on it thoroughly before taking all of him. He groaned knowing you would make him cum in just a few seconds with that hot mouth of yours. “I knew you’d make for a good cocksucker” He pushed you further down and laughed as you gagged around him.

He pulled you off of him, tugging on your hair. He would cum just at the sight of you. Your eyes glossy, cheeks wet with tears, saliva and cum smeared all over your face. He took your hair tie off and smirked at your messy state. He preferred you like that. Ruined because of him. And he hasn’t even started yet.

He urged you to stand by pulling on your forearm. He pushed you against the edge of his bed. “Take off your clothes. On your hands and knees.” He ordered. Impatiently getting rid of his briefs.

You hesitated for a moment but then cowered under his harsh stern gaze, that let you know he had no room for disobedience. With shaky hands you pulled your tank top up and tossed it aside. Repeating the same with your shorts. You gulped as he unabashedly ogled you.

Turning around you climbed on the bed. Crawling till you butt at the edge. You had never done anything in this position before. Bryce preferred letting you do all the work. To give up control, to someone like Ransom. Who made you feel scared more than aroused. Was unnerving to say the least.

You waited, your nipples hardened and your skin covered in goose bumps because of the cold and the anticipation. You expected him to sink in you. He was a lot bigger than anyone else you had ever taken. You had no idea if you could even fit him. You choked trying to fuck him with your mouth.

But then you felt his tongue prod your pluckered hole. You gasped jerking away from his touch but his firm grip on your hips kept you still.

“Anyone ever fucked you here before?” He asked pushing a finger and watching in awe as your asshole swallowed it. It was so tight, he could barely fit one finger in it. He couldn’t imagine how amazing he would feel wrapped up around it. He frowned at your lack of response. That kind of shit doesn’t fly with him.

He groped your plump ass cheek before raising his hand and slapping it harshly. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer.” He stated entranced by the redness of your skin, spanking the same cheek again. So he could leave a few bruises. Something for you to remember him by.

Not that there was any need, this certainly won’t be the last time, he had plans for your ass for the next time. Besides there was no way he could not have you now. Not after feeling your tight cunt around his fingers, which would only be tighter around his cock.

You gasped as you felt the sting of his slap, you looked back at him over your shoulder, wincing again as he delivered another slap. “Did you just...smack my ass?” You asked incredulously. You knew it was a kink for some people but you never thought you’d be taking part in it. Let alone like it way more than you should.

“Shh... be good for me.” He removed his forefinger and replaced it with his thumb. “Answer my question.” He urged.

You swallowed not really ready for any more spanks to your ass and how strangely good they make you feel. “No.” You replied. “No one’s ever fucked my ass.” You added for good measure, rolling your eyes.

“Good.” He hummed.

“Oh my!” You yelped as you felt his tongue nudge your cunt. Pressing inside he slowly fucked you with it. Your hands started shaking, you weren’t sure if you could hold on, his warm velvety tongue felt so good against your walls. Your vision became blurry as tears gathered in your eyes. Dropping on his pristine white sheets. You damn near lost it when he wrapped his mouth around your clit. Slightly pulling on it before harshly sucking on it. You sobbed so overwhelmed with pleasure. “Ransom!” You cried.

“What do you want sweetheart?” He cooed. His voice so dubiously sweet and caring.

“Just fuck me please.” You begged feeling as if your world was about to end, as if you were about to black out then and there as he suck on your bundle of nerves again, pushing his fingers in your cunt.

“What? I thought this was wrong?” He said with faux shock. “Why would you want someone who’s not your boyfriend to fuck you? You’re not making any sense honey.” He spit.

You pushed your head into the mattress, feeling him smirk against your pussy as he ate you out. You had never felt this good before. You had no idea how to handle it or what to do with it. You wondered just what was it about Ransom that made you putty in his hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” You shook your head against the soft bedding. “Please fuck me.” You pleaded at the end of your rope.

He stood up straight. Groping your ass, which was perched up to him, presented so perfecty with your back arched. “Well since you asked so nicely.” He groaned loudly sinking in your tight, wet heat. “How the fuck are you so tight?” He wondered bottoming out. “So damn wet.” He muttered rolling his hips, rubbing his balls against your clit.

“I...” You spoke as if to answer him but couldn’t finish your thought, his skin rubbing against your oversensitive clit in the best way. You whimpered as he pulled his cock, leaving just his tip inside you, making you feel so empty so suddenly. You cried as you he harshly pushed back into you. You felt his large palm push you further into the mattress. His big, hard cock fucking you hard.

He kept up a steady fast pace. Eliciting loud moans and mewls from you. “Does he fuck you this hard?” He asked fastening his pace.

You tried to shake your head, but you couldn’t because of his firm hold on your head. “No he doesn’t.” You were pretty sure that after tonight you’d be ruined for any other man.

He grunted his hips stuttering as he felt your walls quiver around his length. You were close and so was he. “That’s it. Cum on my cock.” He moaned as he felt you clench around him, milking his cock for all he’s got. He gave you a few harsh thrusts before he spilled deep inside you.

You felt everything else around you slip into an abyss. You had never had an orgasm so mind boggling. One that left you so delirious. You moaned hugging the comforted close to you as you felt him spill his warm spend inside you. Making your sensitive walls tingly. You clenched around his softening shaft to keep him inside you. So tired but already ready for another fuck.

He groaned as he felt you clench around him, he smacked your other cheek before pulling out of you. He spread your ass cheeks to see his creamy cum spill out of your swollen cunt. He pushed it back inside and chuckled as you mewled.

He hummed stopping his ministrations to toss your clothes back to you. “Get dressed.” He instructed before going around the bed lay back on his side. He felt you sit up beside him. He looked at you staring at him expectedly. “What did you think we were gonna cuddle?” He scoffed “Do you want him to find out?” He wanted to know.

You shook your head no. Which made...sad? No not sad. Why would it. He doesn’t give a shit who you date or fuck. Not as long as he gets what he wants from you. “Then leave before he finds out you’re gone. I don’t do the girlfriend thing.” He said shutting his eyes so he wouldn’t see your nude body or be tempted to take you again.

You hummed putting your tank and shorts on. “...bye then.” You said awkwardly and turned around to leave. You gasped when you felt him wrap a hand around your waist pulling you back to sit on the bed.

“Don’t think we’re done yet.” You shivered as he whispered in your ear. His body warm against your back. “You better be back here tomorrow. Or else.” He let go of you letting the threat linger in the air as you nodded and got up on shaky feet.

Yeah. He was far from done with you.

Tags will be in the reblogs! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or shoot me an ask/dm.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

OwO I swear I didn't know back then that Chris' character in fierce people is also called Bryce. Who's somehow worse than Ransom and that's really something else.

Please note that my work is NOT to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#shamelesshoesforchris #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x ofc #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader

799 notes · View notes

contorted-curruptions · 3 years ago

Text

*~Hello, Rabbit~*~Yandere Mirio X Tamaki.~*~Part 2~*

Note: Hello, Hello, Manic post Monday, barely made it to post this but here is the second part of The Naga God Mirio X Elven Priest Tamaki. I know I said smut in this one but once more I got carried away with this story so smut is 100% in the next one, this part is very much a cock tease but enjoy it anyway this will be the Segway into the smut. I’mma try to get the next part out tomorrow hope you all enjoy~ <3

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

Warning: Contains Yandere behaviors, and Dubious consent/Non consent themes, mentions of sex, there will be many more warnings and mentions when the smut comes out.

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

Mirio just got back from his time outdoors and he slithers further into the cave, Tamaki Lazily looks from his current position to Mirio who seems to be carrying quite a number of bags on him, bags that most definitely not his. Tamaki wonders if those are offerings from the villagers but they aren’t normally brought in bags so he doubts that is the case, it leaves him curious, more so than he usually is.

“You wouldn’t believe what I saw today rabbit~”

Mirio chirps and moves around the cave he places the few bags that he doesn’t recognize by the wall in the cave close by to where he is currently, Tamaki’s focus is on those bags. He stares at them and continues to question their existence.

“I saw a bunch of campers out. You know they’ve been there quite a while. I’ve been watching them and haha they were really active you know?”

Tamaki for a moment raises from his place on the pelts, his gaze moves to Mirio curious about where this story is going. Tamaki wonders if those campers are okay? Did Mirio hurt them? Are those their bags? So many questions. Despite being in this situation Tamaki still cares about those around him, other people. His dream before this was to become like his mother a kind-hearted priest who helped heal the sick and helped to protect the village. A person will welcome those who need a place to stay somewhere to call home. It’s Odd for Tamaki to have such a dream when he struggles with people and for a while, Tamaki felt too weak to protect the village but it had been Mirio who made him feel like he could be more than a weak little Elf. Even now with Mirio keeping him captive those values still didn’t die and he still wished for that dream to be true. Tamaki is still just as caring after all.

“Oh wow, a reaction. It’s been too long since you’ve moved much at all rabbit. Guess this story is interesting to you, so I’ll keep going, maybe I can even make you smile again~”

Mirio chirps as he slithers over to Tamaki who merely stares at him without a word, still giving him that curious and slightly untrusting look, however, he does nod in response to what Mirio said. that is the only response that Mirio gets from him which is enough to have him continue his story.

“Anyway what I mean by active is going at it like rabbits in the woods, haha, it seemed like they came out here to have fun and get frisky.”

Tamaki hearing this looks away and blushes, he curls up into himself a bit and hides behind his bangs which get pushed to the side by Mirio’s large hands. Mirio’s thumbs brush the skin on his face and he laughs before pinching his cheeks.

“Aw, did that fluster you Tama-chan? Come on your a rabbit too, shouldn’t come as a surprise that people were having fun like that, nothing to get shy over but I’ll admit that I love seeing you flustered. Those are really cute reactions so I’ll keep going to maybe see more from you rabbit~”

Tamaki tries to not look Mirio in the eyes, though he can’t help but glance at him and Mirio looks happier than he has in weeks of course this is the first time in those said weeks Tamaki has offered much of a reaction let alone this much movement. Usually, Tamaki just lays there staring at the cave’s ceiling only moving to eat and use the restroom. Mirio moves to wrap around Tamaki after moving to get some water for him from the flask, he hands it to Tamaki and he takes it drinking it down. Tamaki had learned long ago resisting when Mirio tries to take care of him is a stupid thing to do for Mirio will force him to accept his care and affection no matter what sometimes if he doesn’t he can get hurt when Mirio punishes him and he doesn’t want to deal with that, Mirio doesn’t punish him the conventional ways all the time which is with a bit of pain, Mirio had found that sometimes that isn’t enough Tamaki will put up with that and still act out but threats against his village do wonders for Tamaki’s attitude at times.

“Anyway I guess they weren’t just there to get frisky but that is what they had been doing, they were a traveling theater group, music, drinking, and costumes among many other things. I got to watch a few practices of theirs, you should have seen it. Was really fun.”

Tamaki listens to his story closely and wonders where it’s going, what is the point of this story, were they okay? Tamaki brings the flask away from his lips and stares at Mirio before speaking up.

“A-are they o-okay?”

Tamaki stutters out in a tone conveying concern, it has Mirio raise a brow before laughing and patting Tamaki on the head before giving him a lovely little nuzzle rubbing their noses together.

“Yeah, they are fine, I didn’t kill them if that’s what you were wondering rabbit. They just got scared. Those bags are theirs. The left in such a hurry, poor things haha. But I couldn’t have them getting too close and finding you...besides they had things I wanted.”

With those words at certain points Mirio’s voice dips to something more sinister-sounding which sent shivers up Tamaki’s spine, he isn’t sure if Mirio is telling the truth that the travelers are okay. Tamaki still feels a worry for those people who can possibly still have been killed just to get those bags Mirio had been carrying.

“I’m glad to hear you speaking again rabbit, I missed your voice. It hurts when you don’t talk to me, but of course, I try not to force you because I love you Tama-chan. Either way, those campers got me thinking. I want to try something with you~”

After saying thing Mirio gets closer to Tamaki’s face cupping it in his hand and move to kiss him so suddenly, Tamaki’s eyes widen, and his breath hitches, Mirio has been forceful with his cuddling before but never once has he so far forced a kiss on him and yet not he was doing this. Tamaki feels a blush spreading across his cheeks as his eyes flutter closed as he lets out a small moan into the kiss. He moves his hands to Mirio’s chest and lightly presses against it. Soon enough Mirio is pulling apart with a love-struck expression on his face, not only that but a look of lust that flustered Tamaki, and the blush on his face only got worse.

“M-Mirio…”

He stutters out frozen there staring at him in pure shock he doesn’t know how to feel right now, they have never kissed before not until now and it has his heart pounding a million miles a minute Mirio simple smiles and pats his head moving it right behind his ear to give a small scratch which had him let out a small moan of pleasure his ears and being pet around them, they are sensitive and they do well to fluster him even further.

“My sweet little rabbit, I want to make you mine, you’d like that wouldn’t you? I’m sure you must be just as pent up as I have been Tama-chan, if not more so. After all, rabbits are prone to near-constant breeding, how about I breed you, Tamaki?”

Mirio purrs out before kissing Tamaki’s cheek and then giving it a small lick, this had Tamaki whine, he was so flustered he was shaking in his place but he can feel himself throb unwillingly at his words, no he didn’t want this, not now, not after everything. Tamaki would push him away and fall backward out of his tail which had been loosely wrapped around him, now he lay there sprawled out with his legs slightly spread and his hands behind him which he had used to catch himself. Tamaki pants a blush on his face that spread all the way to his pointed ears and tears welling up in his eyes as he shakes his head no.

“M-Mirio, no, I- I- I’m not r-ready for that, p-please…”

Tamaki whimpers out as he starts to scoot back a bit, he scoots a good bit away before curling up in a ball and clutching himself, he sniffles as tears start to stream down his pale cheeks, he buries his face in his knees and refuses to look at Mirio who at this time is wearing a small frown from this rejection. Mirio isn’t sure why his rabbit had pushed him away but he takes a moment to think about it now and once he comes up with the answer that frown is once more replaced by a smile.

“It’s okay Tamaki, there’s no need to be so shy. I’ll be gentle, it’s your first time after all. I wouldn’t want to break my rabbit, I love you too much to do that you know.”

Mirio says as he moves closer to Tamaki again, he wraps his arms around his shoulders before nuzzling into the back of his neck and inhaling his scent, Tamaki’s scent is the most breathtaking scent to him. Tamaki’s scent always calms him down and even excites him sometimes even now it was exciting him. Mirio wants nothing more than to claim his mate at the moment, Tamaki, who he sees as his one and only. While on the other hand, Tamaki is much less certain about how he feels about Mirio. Tamaki sits there letting Mirio give him the affection he is choosing to give to him however he shakes there like a leaf nervous and feeling terrified about what Mirio will do.

“M-Mirio, p-please…”

Tamaki whimpers out before peeking up at him with teary eyes, Mirio would smile at him and pull Tamaki’s face up. Mirio licks at the tears falling from his face and lets out a small purr and groan at the taste of Tamaki’s tears on his tongue.

“Your tears taste good rabbit, I wonder what else from you tastes good~?”

Mirio smirks at him before giving him a kiss on the nose, he moves away from Tamaki and starts to slither over to the bags that he had gotten from the campers, he brought them over and sat them on the pelts before opening one of them. Mirio digs through the bag seeming to be deep in thought.

“I know I threw it in here, hold on, rabbit, I have a surprise for us.”

Mirio says as he roots through the bag all the while Tamaki sits there curling in on himself once more not bothering to look up, his mind is racing about how scared he is, how he doesn’t want to do this, but he doubts he can do much about it. Mirio has his mindset about it and usually, there isn’t much to detur him once he sets his mind to something. Tamaki knows this all too well.

“Ah-ha!! Got it, look, look rabbit. I saw them using these things when getting frisky and I knew I had to have them for you. I’m pretty sure they’ll fit. Don’t worry I cleaned everything in these bags Tama-chan, I don’t want you getting sick from deceased rabbits out there.”

Mirio smiles and he’s holding up a very special two pieces of lingerie, they were bunny-themed. The top is back with pink frills along the top and bottom, there is a keyhole on the chest in the shape of a rabbit, and at the top of the chest of that piece has pink strings similar to bikini strings to hold it up. The bottoms of the set are also black with pink frills held together with pink strings, on the front are bunny ears sticking up from piece and on the back attached to the butt of the bottoms is a black fluffy bunny tail. Tamaki at first is refusing to look at what Mirio is holding up but when he feels Mirio’s tail wrap around his ankle and tighten he finally raises his head to look and blushes a deep red at the lingerie in his hands. Tamaki uncurls a bit and raises his hands to his lips, his eyes are darting all over the place. Of course, as they do he sees a few more things that were also pulled from the bags which is a headband with realistic-looking black rabbit ears sticking straight up. There are a pair of thigh-high stockings that have little paw pads on the feet, they are back and the paws are pink. There is a pink heart lock collar with matching wrist cuffs, they look like they can attach to one another. In addition, there are also matching ankle cuffs as well all look like they can attach. The more he looks around the pelts the more horrified he becomes, another tail sat there attached is a fairly large butt plug, there along with a small metal rod with a few bumps and groves along the length of it. There is even a leash to attach to the collar.

“M-mirio, what i-is all this…?”

Tamaki asks even if he is fairly certain to the answer to it, these are the things that Mirio will be using on him today, all of them things Tamaki had no experience with. Whoever the campers were they had been very kinky and apparently given Mirio plenty of ideas he wants to try now.

“This is for our playtime rabbit, now come on strip down for me and change, I wanna see you in this, I bet you’ll look ssssuuuupppppeeerrr cute~”

Mirio laughs before giving the thumbs up along with a positive wink before shoving the lingerie at Tamaki and then also pushing over the rabbit ears to him. Tamaki sat there frozen for a long while just staring at the items and then at Mirio. Tamaki bits his lip and fidgets out of nervousness, Tamaki uncurls and picks up the lingerie in his hands and swallows hard that blush making him feel so warm right now and he swears he can almost feel his head spinning at all this. Tamaki stares over the set before once more looking at Mirio.

“D-Do I have to M-Mi-sama, I-I’m scared, I-I’ve never done th-”

Tamaki says this using Mi-Sama the cute nickname that Mirio really seems to like to hear from him, he hopes that the nickname will make Mirio reconsider his choice to have Tamaki go through with all of this right now but he’s met with Mirio placing a finger to his lips to quiet him.

“You’ll be okay Tama-chan, you’re my good rabbit and I know this is scary. It’s your first time after all, but I promise that I’ll make you feel really swell.”

Mirio says this and moves his finger to give him a gentle kiss on the lips before kissing his head. After that Mirio takes both hands and starts to scratch behind his ears, he coos at Tamaki and nuzzles him a moment. All these affections causing Tamaki’s head to swirl and he can’t help but nuzzle back letting out another small moan of pleasure at his petting hands behind his ears it felt so good and makes his cock throb slightly which flusters him and makes him close his eyes, part of him knows he doesn’t want this but Mirio being so kind to him, being the only one who touches him at all anymore, it compels him to listen to him. Tamaki does still loves Mirio or at least he thinks so. Tamaki’s eyes flutter open to look into Mirio’s bright blue pools which seem so inviting and that warm smile makes his heart flutter.

“M-mirio-sama…”

He says as Mirio pauses his affectionate scratching behind his ears, Tamaki’s mind feels like it’s floating, he almost doesn’t feel himself, like it’s not even him here in this moment anymore. It’s almost like he’s someone else, his eyes lightly glossy. Mirio moves forward and kisses him once more before letting out a small giggle.

“See all better now rabbit, now can you do what master Mirio asked of you my little rabbit?”

Mirio says as he moves away from Tamaki giving him room to do what he needs to do for him, Tamaki calms down a moment with a shaky breath. That blush doesn’t seem to leave his cheeks, he fidgets a bit more contemplating what he wants to do. Tamaki is still very uncertain, he knows he doesn’t want to but Mirio’s sweet words and kindness are making him melt. Besides does he really have a choice? His heart pounds in his chest and he raises a hand to it, he can feel the pounding against his palm. Tamaki takes another breath before giving a small yet still uncertain nod to Mirio.

“That’s my good rabbit, Master’s good boy. I’m going to turn around, rabbit, and you get changed, I wanna be surprised when I see you all dressed up for me, my sweet boy.”

Mirio once more moves forward and scratches behind his ears a moment before cooing again at him, it makes him groan and bite his lip at the action. Tamaki’s eyes shut and he can feel his body reacting to Mirio’s affection, though he would whine when Mirio stops his touching and pulls away once more giving him a tiny pat on the head while smiling before finally turning around like he said he would. Tamaki sits there a minute and stares at the lingerie once more, he takes in a deep breath before he completely uncurls his gets up on his knees, and starts to disrobe. Tamaki slowly takes off his top first he can feel the breeze coming in from above and from the entrance of the cave but it’s warm and soothing to him. From there he takes off his bottoms, soon he is left in only his tighter brief shorts. Tamaki stares down at himself a moment before finally reluctantly taking off his bottoms leaving him in nothing, his average-sized cock on full display and ever so slightly beginning to rise up but not entirely. He feels ashamed that his body even if just a little bit is reacting this way to something he doesn’t want, or maybe he does want it? Maybe Mirio is right and he’s just being shy like always. He just isn’t sure. After the thought, he begins to change into the lingerie slowly but surely getting it on tying what he needs too and moving everything into place, the idea of wearing this was partly causing him to feel arousal the embarrassment of the situation turning him on and he almost hates it. He put on everything he thinks Mirio wants him in. the lingerie, the stockings, and the rabbit ears. He has yet to put on the collar and cuffs and is not sure if mirio wants to put those on himself or not. He doesn’t know if he should ask either.

“M-Mirio u-um...I-”

Tamaki stutters out only to earn a small hum from Mirio as he turns around to see what Tamaki needs from him and what he sees takes his breath away, even if he was kneeling and he couldn’t see the outfit in its full glory what he is seeing is turning him on, not that Tamaki needs to dress up to turn him on but god damn if this didn’t have the cocks in his slit throbbing and threatening to poke out from his slit. Mirio slithers over quickly and picks Tamaki up and he yelps loudly at the sudden action. Mirio places Tamaki up on his feet and slithers back hands-on Tamaki’s shoulders looking him up and down.

“Oh darn Rabbit, you look so appetizing, I really could eat you up like this~”

59 notes · View notes

comfy-whumpee · 3 years ago

Text

Birdhouse: The Daydream

A late @whumptober2021 Day 23: Pursuit. Completes the triplet of this and this.

TW: BBU, pet whump, dehumanisation, ‘it’ as a name,

It had never gone this far away for a job before. Usually those they were sent to rescue had wandered through a nearby city, or perhaps been trafficked away to a shelter in a different state. But this time, the trail ran long, and barely lukewarm, and it was only through eyewitness accounts that it became clear what had happened to the errant escapee.

Paris had met a woman with short pink hair and enough money to take someone who was legally property across the border, and then from Canada to England.

And now, It had to travel to England.

Normally, Mistress Tara would have called off the hunt by now. She didn’t usually allow her asset to be sent to a country without human pet laws. But It was trustworthy, and It was talented, and the owner was paying far more than anyone else ever had.

It was able to buy a ticket, collect a forged passport, purchase enough luggage to not look suspicious, and get through security without a hitch.

The plane ride was…horrible. Terrifying. Unnatural.

The woman beside them gave them a toffee and that helped a little.

From London to the countryside.

To the Birdhouse Shelter, an old, sprawling farmhouse in the middle of verdant farmland.

“Do you have a name?”

The woman with the pink hair went straight for the hard question. As soon as she’d found them, hovering around the property, and had recognised what they were, she had brought It in. Sat them down. Someone had brought them tea, a woman in a hijab with a neat and perfect smile.

They shook their head. It wasn’t a name. It was just what everyone had called them, and they had made it their own.

“Is there something you’d like me to call you?”

This was…new. Strange. A question that had never come up in their time. Either they were It, or they were playing a part. They stared at her for a long time.

The woman, whose name was Avis, spoke gently, the way that mothers spoke to children. “Can you speak?”

They nodded. Then shrugged. They could, but… What would be the easiest part to play? One that was mute and inexpressive. One that would refuse to go outside, or to get help for their conditioning. They couldn’t let her change them how she’d want to, and they had to resist her efforts. A vow of silence would start that process.

Avis didn’t even hesitate. “That’s perfectly alright. If you like, I could get some pen and paper?

Of course, she knew a way to work around it. They shook their head again.

The woman looked at them for a moment, and then nodded, expression concerned but accepting. “That’s okay. My name is Avis. This is a shelter for those like you, who have been trained in the pet industry.”

Pet was not the word for them, they thought. But they kept listening.

“I won’t ask you for your story. You can take your time to tell it, or you can never tell it. My only priority is to keep you safe and, hopefully, to help you move towards a free and independent life.”

Boo felt something in their chest flutter. They were careful to show no reaction.

Avis had dark eyes that reflected all the sunlight streaming through the window. She smiled, and they had never seen a smile that had made them hurt.

“Would you like to stay here?”

She was their opposite. Free and brave and honest and open, and reaching out to the people It hunted, to protect them from the people It served. She was everything they were trained to fear and loathe. She was an obstacle to overcome, like the countless liberation workers in the USA, Canada and Mexico that they had overcome before.

Inviting them into her shelter was their perfect opportunity to retrieve Paris easily and bloodlessly.

They nodded.

"Good morning, Boo." Florence lingered in the doorway, but Kamala came in with a gentle smile. "We're going to the garden. Would you like to come?"

Boo shook their head. They didn't need to go outside. They could see the whole garden from the window.

Kamala always, always invited them. No matter how many times they said no. "Okay. If you change your mind, you're welcome to join us."

The pair headed downstairs. Boo sat down at the window, and watched the grass and the leaves in the breeze of the morning. A few minutes later, Kamala's covered head came into view, followed by Florence's tumbling waves. They crossed the grass to the flowerbeds, where Florence sat down in a spot by the blue flowers, and Kamala sat down too with a relaxed lean back.

Kamala liked being in the sun. Florence just liked being outside. They reached out and picked up a fallen leaf from the flowerbed. It was shrivelled and dry, but they ran a gentle finger over its crooked shape, touching the ridges, the serrated edge, and the peak of the crease running across it.

The whole process took about five minutes while Florence sat, watching their own hands and the treasure within as closely as one might watch an alien creature. It was always this way with Florence. The tiniest things made such an impact to them.

Boo watched as they loved the world around them with a fascination that was unfathomable to anyone else. They never even looked at the sky, or the birds, or to the windows of he house where Boo was standing. They had everything they needed on the ground before them. Kamala was happy to chat away while they just…absorbed things, with their eyes, and then their fingers.

Boo wondered how someone could love the world so much, after all it had done to them.

Boo didn't love the world at all. The world was harsh and terrifying and unforgiving. The mission was everything and nothing mattered. The sky and the grass and the leaves were distractions, obstacles, or - temptations. Tantalising glimpses of an experience they had never known.

Because they were It. There was nothing for them but their mission. That was what they were doing supposedly. That was what they wanted. That was why they were here, watching Paris-turned-Florence, waiting for an opportunity.

But they delayed. They watched and waited. They let themselves get distracted. They'd settled down here, despite all the reasons it was a terrible idea.

They were just trying it out. Being free. Being rescued. It was just a sample, a daydream of a life they couldn’t have.

#whump #whumptober2021 #no.24 #pursuit #pet whump #bbu #my fic #whumpee whumper #conditioning #rescue #florence #avis #it the hunter #or as they go by now #boo #the birdhouse

24 notes · View notes

sword-brainrot · 4 years ago

Note

ya got any headcanons for dating nikkou, nankaitarou, and ookurikara pls? seperate. thank you so much for everyhting!

Nikkou Ichimonji, Nankaitarou Chouson, and Ookurikara Relationship Headcanons (GN Reader)

♡ Nikkou is business and logic first over everything else. He has a hard to understanding emotion and tries empathetic but it seems like he doesn't truly understand. He is a sword to be used in battle and to listen to orders from aruji and Sanchoumou. Emotions are very disconnected from him as a person. Especially romantic emotions.

♡ Nikkou will instantly tense up when he is put in a situation where emotions are high. If you are heart broken about something, he will try to solve it with logic and not truly understand that the situation doesn't need to be solve and that you are hurting emotionally. He tries to understand and will listen to you vent but that is all he really can do for you. He may put a hand on your shoulder in his attempt to comfort you but that is as much as does.

♡ This may seem like he is a robotic person but he really isn't. He just doesn't /understand/. He wants to understand though! He is a protective and loving person all things considered. He has people (Norimune, Sanchoumou, Nansen, Hasebe, Nihongou, Atsushi, Sayo, Hakata, and you) who he knows are special to him and wants nothing more to protect them. It is something he knows for a fact but understanding the complicated emotions connected to all of them is what he doesn't completely understand.

♡ Through the struggle of understanding emotions and breaking down the wall to let himself learn and feel, he is caring and thoughtful person. He may not know what to say or what to do but he cares and will try to listen. If you say you aren't feeling well because mentally you aren't doing well, he will come back later with some stomach meds and tea for you. He tries to help.

♡ It will take a while but eventually he will start to open up and try to do more romantic gestures to show you he wants to open his heart to you. Though you may think he is just trying to be caring and not actually flirt with you. You will know when one night he walks you back to your room and says goodnight with a soft forehead kiss.

♡ He will tense up at any affection you give him because like stated before, he doesn't completely understand and never received such affection in his life. As he slowly gets used to it, you will feel him melt in your grasp and follow your movements. He is not one for words when it comes to expressing his love. Rather he will show you he cares through actions or slight physical affection (holding your hand, soft kisses on the forehead/cheek).

♡ Not a fan of pda (other than hand holding) but surprisingly likes snuggling in your room.

♡ Nikkou is the big spoon, he will not give it up. He feels like that is the most protective position and makes him feel like he is one of your wings to protect you and lift you up.

♡ Nikkou has a special way in showing he wants attention. He will hold your hand underneath the table and rub his thumb over your knuckles. It is his way to say that he is feeling a little needy for affection and willing to try things that he would normally be uncomfortable doing.

♡ Nikkou is also like a mother hen at times. He wants to show he cares but doesn't know exactly how. So expect him nagging you; "Have you eaten?", "How much have you slept?", "Are you well enough to work?", "Have you drank plenty of water?", etc. He worries and cares about you in his own way. Just remember that if you ever get a little annoyed by his constant questions.

♡ Speaking of that, if he ever does something you do not like; Tell him right away. He might not pick up that he is going overboard and needs you to tell him. He won't be angry but will stop. He understands that sometimes he goes too far. Also if you are ever hurt emotionally, you have to explain how you are feeling inside or else he will not get it and be wary around you because he doesn't know how to help or if he would hurt you if he said/did the wrong thing. He truly cares for you but it's still hard for him to completely understand feelings and how emotions can really impact someone.

♡ Unlike the other two, Chouson is pretty expressive. So when I say you are Chouson's favorite person, you know. He always runs to you when he finishes a new invention, medicine, or just to geek out about something new he has learned. It doesn't matter what time it is, he runs to you first. Sometimes... to your displeasure. He gets so excited that he can't even see that it is 3am in the morning and he just woke you up from your deep slumber.

♡ Although Chouson is pretty friendly with all the other swords, you never see him hanging out with them. He is more focused in his own work rather than making friends with everyone. Which also means that he doesn't pick up social cues as well as some others. If he ever wanted to talk about anything, he would go to you.

♡ There hasn't been many in his life that showed any interest in his inventions or ideas. When you express interest and ask him to tell you more, he knew you would special and instantly started to grow attached to you. Prepare for him to talk your ear off, there is so much he wants to talk about and all the ideas he ever had. He has a book filled with many hypothesis and invention ideas. You will be hearing 1/3 by the time he lets you go so you can sleep.

♡ Every morning he is excited to see you because he knows that you truly care about him and what he thinks. It is a new feeling and he gets addicted by the first time you ever said "tell me more."

♡ Chouson does a lot of research on humans to understand them better because he wants to understand you better! He less cares about becoming more human himself. You are his main focus in that research. As soon as he learns about dating and what it means, he goes to you right away to ask you out. At this point, he isn't actually sure if he has romantic feelings for you but he knows you are special to him and wants to keep you close. As well as trying to be a loving boyfriend!

♡ He tries really hard to be a good boyfriend but he is clueless. Don't be shy to give him tips! You will have to guide him a little. Also expect him to read very cheesy romantic novels to understand dating more... Expect very cheesy pickup lines too. ...He is trying.

♡ Over the course of dating, he does develop romantic feelings for you! He probably had them from the start but couldn't recognize his own emotions since he relies so hard on logic rather than emotion. He knows he wouldn't want to do any of this dating stuff with anyone other than you.

♡ If something bothers him or he gets too excited, he will start pacing around the room talking at a speed that you almost can't understand. Lots of rambling too as he gets onto many topics. Drag him over to sit down and he will slowly calm down. His eyes just staring at you with adoration.

♡ His mood changes a lot but being around you helps him keep it in a happy state.

♡ Chouson adores tenderness. He will often overwork himself because he will be so invested in what he is doing. His muscles will be all tense and there will be dark bags under his eyes when he finally adventures into bed. Be sure to give him a small massage and kiss his face. He will surely have a large smile on his face as he gets comfortable and embrace you for the night.

♡ When he is focused, it is hard to get his attention and talk to him. So show it in silent ways how you love him. Get him food, and clothes he can change into. Sometimes it is okay to be a little pushy with him as well when he is pushing himself too far and not getting enough sleep. He may be a little grumpy with you at first but he will understand by the time his head hits the pillow and he falls asleep in an instant.

♡ Ookurikara is not the type of person who looks for relationships. He has an intense fear of getting close to someone and then losing them. It is why he constantly pushes people away and stays by himself. Can't get hurt if no one is close to you.

♡ When he began to develop a crush on you, he was even more distant than before (you didn't even know it was possible). He would cancel any plans that involved you, walked away the moment you sat down next to him, refuse to look you in the eye, and if someone asked him to give you something, he would pass it over to Mitsutada or Sadamune.

♡ It was your kindness and persistence that made him fall for you. You always went out of your way to help the sword that many would shy away from due to his resistance to all of them. You always offered an ear to listen to any concerns he may have, even if he never made face of any problems that may be bugging him under his skin.

♡ He kept pushing you away and tried to cause so much distance that you would hate him or just forget about him. However you stayed... And inside, he was melting.

♡ There has been many times where he would envision holding you and showing you affection only for it to be followed by him holding your wounded body on the battle field. Ookurikara is a sword of war... He knows far too well how fragile life can be.

♡ Most likely, you will have to confess to him first and ask him out. There is no way that Ookurikara will be honest about his feelings unless you make the first move. Even then, he will reply very shortly with "If that is what you want".

♡ Huge fear of abandonment. He will never vocally say it but you will need to reassure him that you would never leave him and that you are safe. Nightmares are a common thing with him after he grows attached to you. He knows what it feels to hold someone close to his heart... And it's terrifying that it can be ripped away so easily.

♡ When he is in a good mood, expect him to have his fingers linger on you. Brushing some hair out of your hair? it stays a little longer than needed. His golden eyes staring down at yours. His hand brushing against yours as you two walk side by side. Behind close doors, he may even pretend he fell asleep just so he could rest his head on your shoulder and feel you right there next to him.

♡ He will get frustrated and upset when you tease him or don't give him what he wants but when it comes to teasing you? Surprising... Rather good at it. He will lean in close to your face but quickly pull away and have a book in his hand, pretending like that was what he was reaching for the whole time. Ookurikara will make you say that you want to kiss him or hold his hand before he would even attempt it. If you tease him, he will make you suffer for it.

♡ Ookurikara.. LOVES sweets. He doesn't look like it but candy and pastries are his favorite. Kashuu and Mitsutada are the only two know of this face. Let's just say, Ookurikara comes back very grumpy when Kashuu teases him over not giving him sweets. Because he can't vocally say he wants them. He has an image to uphold! Please be sure to give him sweets and he will be so happy. May not smile but if he does, it will be small and short.

♡ "You bought too much. Eat them with me or else they will go bad."

♡ Favorite cuddling position is being the big spoon and holding you tight throughout the night. You can't get stolen away if he makes sure you are safe within his arms. It is also the position that nightmares don't happen in so it works out!

♡ When he has nightmares, he will suddenly jolt up in cold sweat. His chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, as if he just got done running for hours. His eyes will be lost in the dark shadows of the room. It's best to gentle hold him in those moments. Don't be scared if he suddenly flinches when you first touch him. He is still lost in his own thoughts at that time. As soon as Ookurikara looks over and sees you, well and untouched. He calms down. His head will slowly hang over and rest on your shoulder. No words spoken. Gently caress his hair and give him soothing words.

♡ "Don't you dare get hurt and go somewhere I can't follow."

#Touken Ranbu #Touken Danshi #Tourabu #Touken Ranbu Headcanons #Touken Ranbu Imagines #Touken Ranbu x Reader #TKRB #TKRB Headcanons #TKRB Imagines #TKRB x Reader #Nikkou Ichimonji #Nikkou Ichimonji x Reader #Nankaitarou Chouson #Nankaitarou Chouson x Reader #Ookurikara #Ookurikara x Reader

86 notes · View notes

anghraine · 3 years ago

Text

“the voices of the sea” - fic

I wrote a thing! There might be errors, since I wrote it very quickly, but it was fun (in its way). It’s part of the Aranorverse, where the explicit throwbacks in LOTR (Aragorn, Denethor, Imrahil, and Faramir) are genderbent (as Aranor, Andreth, Imraphel, and Míriel).

In particular, it’s a very belated sequel to “cloven shield and broken sword,” in which Aranor found a dying Boromir:

She remembered him tugging at her leggings, demanding to know but what next? And she remembered him in Lothlórien, haughty and suspicious until he began to speak of Míriel, the sister he had loved and protected through all the days of their lives. Boromir the tall, the fair, the bold, had died, and his treasured sister lived on; what was Aranor’s grief to that?

May the news of his loss come to you swiftly and kindly, jewel-maiden!

The dream always began the same way.

Míriel stood in a city of white and gold, grander than Minas Tirith, grander even than Osgiliath of old, though its domes and towers were similar enough in form that she knew she looked upon the work of Dúnedain. Most of the people around her, however, belied the impression, with their bright hair and soft features—or so it had once seemed. They were handsome, but in a way that unsettled her, like overripe fruit covered in sweet cream. Some particularly disturbed her: tall men in long red tunics, leading lines of bound prisoners towards a building beneath a particularly large and glittering dome.

The prisoners would not have looked out of place in Minas Tirith. Míriel’s stomach turned as smoke trailed up from the dome.

The first time, she still knew not what she saw at this point. It was strange and disagreeable, but little worse, until the winds began to blow. Míriel’s black hair whipped around her face, rain splattering on her head and cheeks and the ground, where it pooled into large puddles. Nobody seemed to notice her. Men came running from what looked like a harbour, shouting things in a language she couldn’t quite understand; her impression of their thoughts was dark and clouded, enough that she shrank back.

But she was not a shrinking sort of girl, not really. The prisoners had drawn her attention again; the red-robed men seemed to be distracted by the newcomers and the prisoners had seized the chance to struggle with their bonds. She ran over to them.

“Who are you? Do you come from Gondor?” she asked.

No one answered. No one so much as acknowledged her existence. But as the water splashed over her sandalled feet, the prisoners broke free and fled, chased futilely by only a few of the robed men. She caught a single familiar word amidst all the clamour: storm.

Yes, of course. It must have come on very unexpectedly; everyone appeared to be dressed very lightly for this kind of weather. Míriel was herself; her thin tunic soon soaked through, and her skin went numb. The sky grew darker; she almost thought she saw the shadow of some enormous creature flicker across it. And the steady fall of the rain turned into torrential sheets of water that blasted through the streets, scattering the people on them.

Míriel ran as quickly as she could, like the rest, but instead of retreating into houses or flying to the ships, she turned and scrambled towards the clearest sign of refuge: a mountain near the city, rising clear and pure above its buildings. Smoke puffed from its summit, which struck her as wrong in some way.

She was a child at the time, her steps short, but somehow or other, her feet brought her out of the city and to the side of the mountain before the driving wind and rain could wholly flood the city and its environs. Ahead of her, a small woman in an embroidered white tunic, with sparkling bracelets about her wrist and a golden collar at her throat, clambered up the sides of the mountain. The air was hot, hotter than it should be, but Míriel could think of nowhere else to go. She struggled up the mountain after the woman.

“Can you hear me?” she called out. “Let us help one another!”

To her surprise, the woman looked back—but her fair face, though not unsettling in the way of the others’, was filled with utter terror. She didn’t seem to see Míriel at all, her pale grey eyes wide and staring.

Míriel followed her gaze, and gasped. Water was rushing out of the city and drowning the green valley below, rising with impossible swiftness. Míriel was not craven, but at that, she turned back to the mountainside and struggled to scramble up its ledges, ignoring the pebbles that pressed into her feet beneath her thin, drenched sandals. Now, she could not look back, and she ignored the horror that filled her mind.

They never did make it to the top of the mountain. But they reached a high enough point that Míriel could see past it. Water was flooding beyond it, too, pouring through forests and rising over hills from every direction.

Even as Míriel gazed upon it, the storming water splashed up into foamy waves that roared beneath them. This did not, however, prepare her for what happened next.

To the west, all the waves seemed to join together into one, towering and impossibly enormous. But it grew still larger, cascading up and up and up and up, above Míriel and the woman, above the mountain itself, above everything. The hills and valleys, forests and cities, all fell under its heavy shadow. Míriel’s very blood felt cold, her her breath coming in small, frightened pants as the wave’s inescapable darkness deepened.

The woman, clinging to rocks, screamed something that Míriel half-understood. Then the wave began to crash down on them.

In Míriel’s bedchamber, her eyes flew open. That time, the first time, she promptly burst into tears and cried until Boromir came running, thinking she was ill. He managed to console her, but within a few nights, the dream came again, and then again within a few nights of that. So it continued, on and on, through the years that followed.

The horror of it never really abated. Yet she grew accustomed to it, in a way: to the sight of Númenor in its most terrible hour, only made worse by the understanding of what came next and why, to the glimpses of her namesake, the rightful queen. Indeed, nothing but the wave itself left so strong a mark on her mind as Tar-Míriel’s face, so beautiful and so terrified.

She, Míriel of Gondor, would never forget her, or Númenor, or where the folly and evils of their people had led. She could never forget. Perhaps that was the purpose of the dream. Perhaps it was a warning of what victory could mean in the end, however improbable victory might seem in her waking hours. Perhaps it was something else yet. But it never stopped haunting her.

Nearly thirty years after the first dream, though, it changed. Míriel dreamed again of Armenelos and the Meneltarma and the shadow of death rising inexorably above all. But there was no waking. The wave slowly began to collapse over them, foam and droplets spattering her face before it reached her. Míriel stood tall and straight, refusing to cower, allowing herself no further weakness than blinking the water out of her face. She opened her eyes to more water, feeling it slosh about her bare ankles.

But it was now deep into night beneath a pale moon, just bright enough for her to see that the water in which she stood flowed smoothly past the familiar shores of the Anduin. The terror of the Downfall had shifted to an overwhelming sense of peace.

As she watched, she saw a small boat come floating up the river. In colour, it was a peculiar, shining grey; in design, she could not recognize it. Nor did she expect to, for it cast a dim light all around it. Though nobody appeared to be rowing or steering it, it continued on its serene course without interruption.

Míriel felt a distinct desire to draw nearer the boat, to understand what could possibly explain all this. She thought of resisting the desire; she might have—but it did not strike her as foul in the way of the Enemy’s arts, so she dared approach.

The boat slowed as she came near, within hand’s reach of the prow. Her instincts warned her against touching it, but she saw illuminated water filling the boat, and a warrior who first appeared to be sleeping in it.

Míriel gasped.

“Boromir!”

She knew at a second glance that he was dead. Anyone might have, without need of fallen Númenor or any other powers of this world. His chest had been pierced with many wounds. His sword lay broken on his knee, and others at his feet. His black hair had been carefully laid over his shoulders. She recognized everything he wore except a lovely belt of linked golden leaves, and his face was not only restful, but beautiful, even more than in life.

She and her mother had already feared the worst, when they heard the echo of his horn coming from the north, unaccompanied by any news of him. But it was one thing to fear, and another to see.

“Where is your horn?” she asked, as if he might somehow answer.

The boat kept floating under her gaze, drifting past where she stood in the water.

“Where are you going?” she cried. “Oh, Boromir!”

It passed on, down the stream and fading into the night, towards the sea. Míriel stood alone in the water. No priest of Sauron, no Faithful prisoner, no doomed queen or frightened citizen intruded upon her notice. No brother, either.

She tilted her head down to stare into the clear river-water, her reflection a dark blur at this hour. With her hair hanging loose around her face, obscuring the sight of the shore, it reminded her of peering into the waters near Dol Amroth on a calm night. Perhaps it had reminded her father of the sea he missed, too. Oh, the sea, the sea! Must it always be the sea?

She felt tears slide down her cheeks—as if the occasion required more water, when Boromir was gone and forever consigned to the fate of Men. They would never see him return. She would never feel his great embrace once more, nor listen to him with their mother, nor ride out to the Pelennor with him, nor ever again see him laugh among the knights of Dol Amroth. Míriel squeezed her eyes shut.

She pressed her fingers to her face, rubbing away tears, and opened her eyes again. She felt no surprise at the sight of her bedchamber in Minas Tirith. Yet she was not lying in bed but sitting upon it, her hands still pressed to her cheeks, as if she had actually woken some time before, or never slept at all. Míriel rose, shaking out her dry shift, and walked over to her window, which looked westwards.

Boromir had risked death constantly; it was his duty and right as Captain-General and heir to the Stewardship. She had always known this. She had certainly known it when he set out on his errand, driven by a dream of his own. Yet, in some way, she had not known—not understood—and now—

Now, she must tell their mother.

#anghraine's fic #míriel of gondor #genderbending #legendarium blogging #long post #aranor #(the verse not the character)#faramir #boromir #tar míriel #númenórë #i like fíriel for her verse #but 'míriel' for me works best for f!faramir bc a) it echoes boromir b) it mirrors the callback to royalty in 'faramir' c) canon quenya #but also d) the dream!#anyway #i did do the unthinkable and alter tolkien's language #bc the use of formal/informal is erratic and not something i usually maintain—so it seemed weird to keep it #it's a translation anyway!

24 notes · View notes

harryhandstan · 4 years ago

Text

wonderful and warm

gif credit

I’m so excited to share this piece with y’all for @tbslenthusiast‘s dad-a-thon!! I’ve been debating whether or not to expand more on I Want Your Belly for a while now, so I’m considering this part two to that, though you don’t really have to read it first to understand this one. Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

thank you @peachybloomss and @tbslenthusiast for beta reading for me! love y’all both!!

word count: 2.6k

You had been adamant about not telling anybody for at least the first two months.

Your mom’s complications with each of her pregnancies prompted a fear in you that you might share in that gene she carried, so you just wanted to be sure. Make it to your first ultrasound at least to confirm the baby was happy and healthy. Harry, of course, had agreed to whatever it was you felt was best. He wanted you to be comfortable and truth is, all the complications or things that could go wrong, terrified him too.

But the second you put this man in front of a crowd, all his previous filters go out the window and it was slipping from his lips easily, telling the world that you were having his baby. You were angry at first, spending half of the show trying to calm your shaky hands. Honestly, most of it was just nervous energy at the idea of so many people knowing. It was out, and you had no control over the reactions of the millions of people that shared in loving your Harry. He was quick to remind you that you were the one he loved, no one else’s opinion mattered to him and it shouldn’t to you either.

Making such a public announcement meant the news reached your families ears a lot faster than you’d planned too, and you just didn’t want any of them to be hurt that they weren’t told first.

Anne is the first one to contact Harry from his side, promptly inviting you to dinner the following weekend with a small group of Harry’s family. But the closer you get to the day, the more anxious you are and he once again reminds you how much his family adores you already, would now love you even more.

“Even more than they love me now, probably,” He chuckles, taking your hand on the drive to his mother’s house, “Gonna be just like any Sunday dinner at Mum’s, innit? We just have something a little extra special t’celebrate now, lovie.”

Gemma answers the door to let the two of you in and she tugs you in for a hug, pulling you into the house without so much as a glance to her younger brother.

“Nice to see you too, Gem.” He follows the two of you inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Ignore him..someone’s just jealous they won’t be Mum’s favorite anymore.” She giggles, rolling her eyes as she leads you into the kitchen where Anne mimics her daughter’s greeting, scolding Harry playfully that he spoiled the surprise so soon.

By the end of the night, the two of them are already making predictions about what the baby will be, giving family name suggestions, and planning a baby shower for you.

Calling your family was a whole new level of anxiety you hadn’t experienced yet on this journey, and you paced back and forth in front of the desk where your iPad was already set up to FaceTime them. Harry sits on the foot of the bed, waiting for your nerves to settle enough to contact them.

“D’you want me to join you?” He doesn’t look at you, just continues to fiddle with one of the buttons on his shirt.

Your head pops up to where he sits, “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugs, “S’just..sometimes I think you might still be a bit mad at me. For letting it slip earlier than we wanted. Thought you might wanna talk to them alone first..in case they’re upset with me too.”

“I was never really mad. And I don’t think they’ll be upset..just may take them a little longer to accept that I didn’t tell them before you told everyone. They may not have even seen it yet.”

That was a lie. Your sister had texted you last night saying that she was thrilled to soon have a niece or nephew, but your mom had cried for a two whole days after they saw a clip from the show and your dad refused to even talk about it. Your brother was normally so far out of the loop that you truly didn’t know if he had heard the news, so you make a mental note to call him later too.

You wouldn’t tell Harry any of that though, not now anyway. Maybe later, when everything didn’t feel so tense. You knew your family wouldn’t be upset forever, they loved Harry almost as much as you did. The joy of having a new baby added to the family would soon override any hurt they were feeling now.

“Harry, whatever they say..this is still happening. I’m still having your baby. I can’t even begin to tell you how happy that makes me.”

The smile he gives you makes your heart flutter, drawing you closer to sit next to him.

“Say that again.”

“What? How happy I am..”

“No, the part before that.”

A giggle works its way up through your chest, a deep blush flushing your cheeks, “I’m having your baby,” You can’t resist, the tune now stuck in your head, changing the lyric slightly to fit, “It’s none of their business.”

“What? S’your family, of course it’s their..oh, right.” He shares in your laughter, melting away any tension that had settled in the room, restoring your confidence that everything would be alright.

As many changes as your body had gone through during pregnancy, one thing that hadn’t changed was Harry’s love for your belly. His obsession had grown with each month, constantly finding reasons to be close to you throughout your days spent together. Usually it was a hand nudged gently against the side of your bump, trying to coax the baby to kick or move for him.

Your child already adored the sound of their dad’s voice, would normally start to wiggle around the second Harry would start talking or singing anywhere around you. The first time it happened, the two of you were attending a birthday party for a friend and Harry was halfway across the room, animatedly telling a story to a group of your mutual friends. It was one of the many reasons you had fallen for him so quickly, his ability to have a room full of people so captivated by a tale you were sure they had heard at least 5 times before.

But he doesn’t seem to care about anyone else’s reactions, his eyes continuously flicking back to gauge your feedback, knowing which parts make you laugh the hardest no matter how many times you’d listened to him tell it. When your mouth falls open with a soft gasp and a hand clutching the side of your belly, he hurries through the ending to weave his way back through the party to you.

“You okay, love? Somethin’ wrong?” The tears falling on your dress don’t match the glowing smile radiating across your face and he’s turning his head amusingly from where he hovers over you.

“Everything’s great, H. Think someone just loves the sound of daddy’s voice.” You take the drink he still holds in his hand and set it on the table in front of you, turning your body to face him and tugging his wrist down to where you had felt the kick moments before, “Say something else now that you’re closer. See if she moves for you.”

“She? You find out somethin’ you wanna tell me, darlin’?”

“No, just a feeling. Haven’t you thought about which you would rather us have?”

He shakes his head no, his eyes bright with a pride you’ve never seen burn so intensely, “As long as you and they end up happy and healthy in the end, s’all that matters to me.”

He scoots his body to sit on the bench next to you, bending his head to speak softly, “Hello, little one. S’daddy. Mummy’s here too. Wanna move around a bit more f’us?”

He rests his head there for a moment, a hand rubbing along the side of your stomach, not caring who at the party may see the two of you or how silly he may look. He looks like a child who’s just been granted his one and only wish when your baby responds, a foot landing against where his cheek is pressed.

“There you are, baby. You kickin’ at me? Cheeky little thing y’are already..just like mummy, huh?” He turns to kiss the spot where the foot had been, ”We’re g’nna have so much fun when you get here, angel.”

Harry watches your feet a lot more closely these days.

You didn't notice it at first. But today as you're coming down the stairs, you catch his eyes watching carefully as he waits for you. One of your hands cradles your bump that seems to be growing daily now, while the other glides along the railing to keep yourself steady.

"Am I wearing mismatched shoes or something?" You lean forward in an attempt to look at your feet over your belly, nearly toppling down the last few stairs. The look on Harry's face would have been comical if it wasn't laced with so much fear as he lunged forward to meet you and help you the rest of the way down.

"Careful!" Even with you settled safely now against his side, his voice is full of worry, "Nothing's wrong with your shoes, honey. Just wanted to make sure you made it down safely, know how clumsy y'are."

"You worry too much, Harry. I would've made it down fine if you hadn't been staring at my feet."

"My girl's carrying my baby..m’allowed to worry about you both. Y'sure I can't convince you to stay home and let me do the grocery shopping this week?"

"No, I wanna go. Last time you forgot the bagels."

"Are you ever gonna forgive me for that?" You're glad to see the fear has fallen away from his face as you both reach the bottom of the stairs together.

"Maybe." You shrug, "Might take a few more kisses though."

"Deal." One of his hands comes to rest warmly on the underside of your belly, the other one still supporting the small of your back as he bends down to place kisses across your face.

A kick from within your stomach has both of you giggling and looking down to where it's pressed between the two of you.

"Are you mad at daddy too, hmm? Already two against one around here, I see. Alright then, baby gets kisses too."

“Harry will you please get up? We only have an hour to get ready and make it to the appointment. I don’t wanna be late!”

He rolls over, intending to pull you closer to him for a morning kiss, an important part of his usual routine. He frowns when he finds you’re already out of bed, digging through drawers of your dresser to find what you need to get ready for the day.

You haven’t noticed he’s awake yet so you keep encouraging him, “C’mon, made you breakfast. It’s an important day!”

“You’re not allowed to do that, y’know.”

“Do what?” You’re only half paying attention, tugging a dress over your head and scowling at your reflection in the full length mirror when it doesn’t fit over your belly. You quickly pull it back off and toss it in the pile you’ve already tried (and failed) to stretch over your growing bump.

“Daddy’s s’posed to make breakfast for mummy while she sleeps in, not the other way ‘round.”

“Well, mommy was too nervous to sleep in so she’s up getting ready, as daddy should be!” You tug one of your maternity shirts from a hanger in your closet and throw it over your head, declaring to yourself that it’ll just have to do. Thankfully it pairs well with the black leggings you’ve already struggled through pulling on. You plop on the edge of the bed, a deep sigh falling from your lips as you look around at the mess you’ve made of your shared bedroom.

“Mummy needs to relax. She looks beautiful in whatever she wears, no matter what day it is.” He rubs a hand along your back, up to soothe over the pinch between your shoulder blades.

“Nothing fits anymore, swear this belly gets bigger by the day. If I find out today you put a set of twins in me, Styles, you are gonna be in so much trouble.”

He throws his head back, a deep rumbling laugh erupting from his chest, “Aww c’mon, lovie. Twins would be so fun! Think we’d get lucky and have one of each? A boy and a girl?” He kisses your shoulder.

He’s pulling you in to rest against his chest now, the fabric of his well worn t-shirt cool and soft on your cheek. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pressing a kiss firmly to the top of your head.

“Just lay with me a minute, hmm? Did you get any sleep last night? Felt you tossing and turning for half of it.”

“Maybe a couple of hours. I was too nervous.”

“You should’ve woken me. Hate the idea of you being awake and nervous alone, honey.” One hand trails up to cup your chin, a thumb smoothing over the tension set in your jaw.

“I honestly don’t know how you got any sleep. I wasn’t alone though, I think I kept the baby up half the night too.” You shift to face him, resting your chin on his chest, seeking the comfort of his face, “Are you okay? You’re not nervous at all?”

“M’fine. What’s to be nervous about? We get to see our baby today, find out what it is. I couldn’t be happier about that.” He brushes a strand of hair softly away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Maybe it’s more excitement than nerves. I just felt..restless. Maybe it’s silly, but I just wanted to look nice today too and none of my good clothes fit me anymore.”

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, baby. But now? I’ve never seen anyone look as gorgeous as you look now. S’important to me that you know and believe that as much as I do. I’ll remind you everyday if y’need me to.”

“You really mean that, Harry?”

“‘Course I do. I know this has been new and scary for both of us, and I’m so proud of you. You’ve fallen into this with such ease and grace, already started gettin’ our home ready for our little one. I can’t wait to see you with them when they’re born.”

“You’re gonna be the most amazing dad. Teaching our child kindness and love, reminding them it’s okay to be whatever they choose to be. It’s important to me that you know how much I adore you and seeing you become the dad you were meant to be? It’s gonna be incredible. I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

“Me either. Think I’d be miserable if it were anyone else.”

“Nah you’d get used to them eventually. Especially if they were having your baby.”

He laughs again, pulling you closer to smush his lips against your temple.

“Alright, up we get,” He scoots away to push himself up and off the bed, offering you his hands to help pull yourself up, “Let’s go see if our little bub got blessed with your nose or cursed with mine.”

You’re over the moon every time you see Harry’s beaming smile when he passes the black and white sonogram photo now proudly displayed on the refrigerator; your son’s nose a perfect mixture of yours and Harry’s.

#dadathon #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #dad!harry

239 notes · View notes