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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 13 days

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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 25: Are Family Reunions Always This Awkward?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty five of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's got some heavier things in it, a few more sexual references, and it's kind of dark (more sad). Dark themes, Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, A little bit of heavy making out, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Homelander being a freak (he is), References to rape (It's only for a moment, but it doesn't make it any less terrible), Homelander is really bad in this chapter, Oedipus Complex (It's Homelander), Threatening, Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Kidnapping. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: One last warning, Homelander is a freak. Honestly the guy creeps me out in general, but in this he's especially creepy. AND It did not bring me joy to write this. I struggled with it, but I think it’s the thing that has to happen to move this story forward. And this chapter legit has the biggest tone shift in the UNIVERSE of tone shifts.

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“Are you angry with her?” Ben’s voice rumbles up through his chest as you lay beside him. You were sharing the same pillow, faces inches apart, breathing the same air. His hand was tracing shapes into the small of your back, arm draped heavy over the curve of your hip, but it was a comforting weight. It reminded you that he was there and that he wanted to be, and you were getting used to that.

"A little." You breathe with a frown. Your hands are locked at the back of Ben's neck, gently dragging through the hair at the nape of his neck the way you know he likes. He groans softly at the movement, leaning further towards you as you do. "But now learning about everything that happened with Charlie, I get it. He was manipulating her the same way that Vought manipulated us for so long, the same way that they manipulated Homelander as he grew up."

Ben frowns at the mention of your son.

Rosemary had been calmer about the reveal of Homelander as her brother, but you figured that maybe you needed to let her wrap her head around it.

Maybe she was more focused on what Vought had done to me.

After Rosemary's confession this morning the day had been spent trying to figure out what you were going to do about your son. Butcher, Hughie, and Legend had been just as surprised at the news. And you knew that Butcher was waiting for some kind of hesitation to proceed with the plan to kill Homelander, but he wouldn't find any.

Homelander needed to be stopped, he was a monster, and you knew that there wasn't a shred of humanity left. It broke your heart to admit that to yourself, that your son was a monster, but it was true. Homelander became the thing that Vought warped and twisted him into. There was no semblance of someone that you could care about left, no reminder of humanity in his eyes.

At least that was what you told yourself, and it was what you told Ben, but deep down you wished that you were wrong. You wished that maybe there was something left behind, something redeemable.

He grew up without a family in a cold lab, raised by monsters who did with him what they wished.

You think to reason with yourself. Maybe it was because you remembered what Ben said that Vought tried to do to him. It was true of course, Vought had tried to do the same thing to Ben and you when you took the serum. And maybe it did work on Ben a little bit, the façade that he adopted for Soldier Boy did seem to lean in the direction of warm-blooded American symbol that Vought wanted, but Ben was different and so were you.

"If you're not sure about this, we can try to talk to him." Ben whispers leaning his forehead against yours.

"I know. We can try, but I don't think Butcher is really going to go for that plan."

"I don't give a fuck about him. I only care about you."

"Uh-huh?" You smirk. "You don't care about anyone else?"

"Huh?"

"No body else? Because you and Lou looked pretty cozy earlier playing go fish."

They had. Lou had won and Ben was trying his best not to be upset that he got beat at a card game by a four year old.

"That little girl is a shark. Just like someone else I know." Ben snorts out a laugh and pulls you closer to him, so much so that you can feel the ghost of his smile against your lips.

“Well I never-“ You smile nudging your nose into the space between your faces.

"Fine, you caught me. I do care about her, and I care about Rosemary. Even if she does fucking hate me.”

“She doesn’t hate you as much as she thinks she does.”

“Hmm.”

"But I knew it." Your lips brush against his. "You're such a big softie."

Ben rolls his eyes. "Only for you Sweetheart." His hand stops tracing shapes against the back of your shirt and instead flattens against your back to pull you tighter against him. Your fingers thread through the locks of his hair, loving the way he feels pressed up against you, loving how after all these years it feels the same way and how it still feels like he was made for you and that you were made for him. When you were with Ben you didn't feel fat, because every soft part of you molded against the hardness of his muscles so perfectly that it made you feel like you belonged together.

"You know, I don't really like go fish all that much." Ben's smirks, kissing you back enthusiastically, his beard scratching against your skin in a way that makes everything else fade into the background. "I wouldn't mind playing some strip poker with you though."

"Oh really? What a surprise. Because you've always been better at poker than me."

"That's exactly why it would be fun." He rolls you over on your back, his large body over yours, his hips fitting between your legs, bringing them up around his waist with his free hand as he keeps kissing you.

"You're a man of simple tastes I guess." You laugh into his mouth, tightening your grip in his hair, tugging at the strands.

"Nothing simple about you doll." He all but growls against your lips. "And the only thing that I want is you."

The kiss deepens enough that you can feel yourself quickly losing yourself in him, but that's the way it always seemed when he kissed you. It felt like you held your arms out and spun in a circle until you were drunk and your head was spinning so fast nothing else seemed to fit, but Him. Time seemed to slow, the earth stopped spinning, everything around you was gone and the only thing left behind was Ben. You wondered if it was like that for him.

"Fuck you taste like strawberries." Ben mutters into your mouth.

Of course you did. You had ice cream before you came to bed, taking bites from Lou's bowl when she wasn't looking.

Ben tasted like the vanilla ice cream he’d had that he chased down with a glass of whiskey. You could feel yourself getting drunk on the sweet and vintage taste, sinking further into the mattress with his comfortable weight on top of you.

You moan into his mouth, moving your hands from his hair to grip his shoulders so tight that Ben could feel the bruises from your fingertips forming against his skin, but he didn’t care. You knew he liked it, knew that he liked that you were the only one strong enough to do that to him. He drags his lips down to kiss along your jawline, finally finding the place just in its shadow to suck another mark to replace the one that had faded a few days ago.

“Ben-“ You giggle, feeling the tickle of his beard against your skin. “You’ve really got to stop doing that.”

The words held no power, you didn’t want him to stop, didn't want any of this to end. It wasn't just because it felt good, it was because it felt right, the two of you together finally.

“Doing what?” He smirks up at you innocently.

Sometimes you hated how pretty he was, it meant that he got away with whatever he wanted and you were along for the ride. But in a pinch it was a good thing. When the two of you were children, Ben's good looks and charms had gotten the two of you out of trouble more than once.

“You keep giving me hickeys and it’s going to scar our daughter for life. Not to mention Lou asked me what it was today and I wasn’t about to have THAT conversation with a four year old.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” He drops his lips back down to the same spot. “I remember everything you like.”

His words are breathed against your skin, caressing something deep inside that makes you shudder beneath him.

Immediately you're transported back to the night of your birthday, when Ben made love to you and made you feel seen, understood, and loved for the first time in your life. The memories of that night wash over you in full color, moments that you wished to relive over and over again with Ben.

“Did you think I would forget?” Ben purrs as he continues to kiss along the hollow your throat, igniting something that you hadn’t felt in forty years. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that night. Ever be able to forget how it felt to finally make love to you, to finally have you the way I wanted for so long, and to finally show you how much you mean to me.”

He raises his head from your throat, hands gripping your waist tightly to keep you wrapped around his body. His green eyes shine with mischief, his dark hair falling forward into his face as he stares down at you, seeing through you like no one ever has. His expression softens. “Because you do y/n. You mean everything to me” His voice is quiet, but it doesn’t make what he said any less important.

You gently cup his cheeks, pulling his lips back down in a fierce kiss that burns through your body. Ben smiles into your mouth, letting his guard down and as he does you leverage your weight to roll him over on his back so now you’re in his lap and he’s staring up at you, his eyes shining with something that almost makes you grab the front of his shirt and haul him back up to you for another kiss.

You smirk widely at him, hands planted against his toned stomach. He’d gone to bed without wearing a shirt again and you were far from complaining. You lean forward, your lips barely brushing his ear. “What makes you think I’ve forgotten what you like?”

“Fuck sweetheart. I won’t complain about anything you do to me.” Ben groans. His hands are holding on to your hips, pushing up your shirt to rest on the curves of your pelvis. "As long as I get to be with you, I'll be happy."

You kiss along his jaw, feeling the heat of his body radiating up through where you’re touching.

“Sweetheart?” Ben’s voice is strained, hands splayed wide over your hips. The roughness of his palms is comforting and familiar, the warmth of his skin soothing. No one else ever seemed to be as warm as him.

Your lips drop to his throat as you kiss along the skin loving the tickle of stubble against the tip of your nose. “I’m a little busy at the moment baby.” You hum against him as you begin to such a mark into the hollow of his throat, because you’re the only one able to do that to him.

Ben moans softly as you do it, shuddering below you, and it makes you feel powerful that you’re able to do that, to make him fall apart and make him lose himself in you the way he always seems to consume you.

“Y/n-“ Ben breathes as you wrap yourself tighter around him, continuing to suck on the same spot. “Hmm?” You pull back to look at his face, raising a hand to push back the dark strands that have fallen into his eyes with a gentle hand.

You still were having a hard time with that despite everything. That Ben genuinely wanted to be yours the way you were always his. Somewhere deep down the little girl you used to be was finally content, finally able to hold the little boy she had loved for decades.

“I never said thank you.” He murmurs sitting up so you slide back into his lap and he’s able to hold you to him, his arms circling your waist.

“For?” Your arms link behind his neck. You can’t stop the soft smile that pulls at your lips when you look at your best friend. It was weird to think that you’d known each other so long and not know what you were missing, not know how perfect this would feel.

He kisses you again. “You always take care of me. Always have taken care of me.” Ben drops his lips to brush against your shirt over the scar the bullet left behind just over your heart.

You knew he was thinking about the day that you took a bullet for him and you wondered how much he thought about that. If the memory haunted him, if all the memories of your deaths haunted him.

“Well somebody’s got to. You’re a mess.”

“Not when I’m with you.”

“No.” You say happily keeping his head pressed against your chest. “That’s because I do my job. It's difficult sometimes but-"

"Shut up." Ben groans.

It's quiet for a few minutes as you stay there, gently stroking your fingertips in the way you know he likes, the dark strands shuffling through your hands.

He breathes deeply, as if he wishes to breathe you in, to pull you into him until there's nothing left but him and you. "I missed you so much Sweetheart."

"I missed you too Ben."

"And I-" His voice cracks with emotion, his next words getting caught in the back of his throat.

"Ben?" You cup his cheek worried. His bright green eyes have dimmed and you see something pass through them that looks almost like shame. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry."

"What did I say about apologizing?"

"Not for Countess. I'm sorry if the way you loved me ever felt like a burden.” He swallows.

You remember the words you said to Rosemary earlier about what love should be like.

“Ben- do you want me to tell you the truth?”

“Always.”

You sigh, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone. “Sometimes it did, but only because I’d loved you for so long and it always felt like I was trying to hold on to who you were before you became Soldier Boy and trying to run to catch up. Like I had to change who I was to keep you happy and I really just wanted you to be happy Ben. You weren’t happy when we were kids and you were so excited about being supes and I-“

“I was happy when I was with you.” Ben whispers leaning his forehead against yours. “When you were gone I wasn’t. When I went away on those stupid filming trips and you were at your apartment all I thought about was getting back to you. I didn’t care about the films or the fame, if you weren’t there I didn’t see a point. And all I wanted was for you to be happy too, but not like that-“

“It wasn’t always bad, just sometimes. When I’d have to intervene between you and someone else or when you’d come to my apartment smelling like someone else or when I’d occasionally walk in on you and another woman in your apartment or at herogasm.” You sigh. “I didn’t have a right to feel the way I did. I shouldn’t have been jealous, you didn’t belong to me-“

“But I do.” He doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look remorseful for sharing too much. “Always. And I swear that I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, choosing you like you chose me that night.”

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you sit there on his lap, feeling the familiar contours of his body wrapped around yours. “I don’t regret it.” You murmur. “You are my family. And I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I love you sweetheart.”

“I love you too Ben.”

He kisses you fiercely, taking away any pain from the past and finally making you forget the moments he was gone, because now he was here and he wasn’t going anywhere. Ben presses his forehead back into your chest, tightening his grip on your waist.

You take in a deep breath smelling the comforting smells that you ascribe to Ben, but there's another smell that's coming from somewhere in the room. It's familiar, but you can't place it. In the corner of your eye something is moving, and you glance to the right noticing for the first time that the sliding glass door is open, the floor length curtains fluttering in the breeze and you knew for a fact that you’d left it closed.

“That’s so cute.” A familiar voice says.

Your entire body goes cold, the warmth you felt with Ben fading almost instantly. Ben's head shoots up from where it was resting on your chest, to stare at something or rather someone behind the two of you.

"You know, it really is every kid's dream that after all these years-" Homelander sighs happily. “ their parent's still love one another."

He was lounging in one of the sitting chairs at the opposite side of the room, his ridiculous cape draped over the back like a train as he watched the two of you in bed.

You can't move, can't breathe.

He's here. How is he here? How did he find us?

You rack your brain trying to think about what to do, but all you can do is hold on to Ben. It wasn't that you were afraid for yourself, you knew that you could take him down if need be, the exact thing that you'd been considering the entire day, but you mind drifts to Rosemary and Lou upstairs.

“But I can see why dad loves you so much mom. I mean you are so beautiful and you look really good for your age." His eyes glimmer black in the light and he has the audacity to wink.

Ben’s body immediately pushes yours behind him to block you from view. “What the fuck do you want you sick son of a bitch?” Ben snarls.

“Don’t talk about mom that way.” Homelander grins. But it’s the smile of a shark, pretty until it gets too close. All teeth and gums and things that come in the darkness to swallow you whole.

"How did you find us?" You swallow still thinking of Lou upstairs sleeping comfortably.

"I have you to thank for that mom." Each time he says the word 'mom' you try not to flinch. "I was flying by to see Stan when I watched the two of you 'talk' and when you left I followed you here."

I did this. I'm the reason why he found us. I was too wrapped up in what happened to fucking check if anyone was following me.

"You know the other day when we first met I was angry that you were able to hold me off, but watching you with Stan," Homelander chuckles. "That was inspired. Something special. I didn't realize how powerful you really were. And that tornado the other day- wow."

Another cold chill traces the length of your spine.

How long has he been watching us? Flying around outside of the house, staring through windows, watching from the shadows, marking our every move?

Another thought follows. He knows about Lou.

"I'm so honored to have a mother like you. And Soldier Boy as a father." Homelander's eyes trace over the two of you appreciatively. "It's a dream come true."

There was something haunting about the way he spoke to the two of you, almost as if the child that grew up in a lab was coming out, almost with childlike wonder and awe.

"I can't believe they tried to keep our family apart for so long." Homelander's gaze softens when he stares at the two of you. "That Vogelbaum and Stan Edgar decided that it would be better for me to be out of your lives but here I am after all these years, reunited."

Ben's right arm tightens where it's wrapped around your waist, his hand pressed into you back as he puts himself between you and Homelander. You can feel his skin heating with the force of his rage, hear the way his heart has begun to beat faster as he tries to think of a way out of this.

You weren't going to tell Homelander that he was your son, you thought it would be easier that way, with him not knowing that fact. Thought that it would be easier for you to dispose of him if he didn't call you 'mom' but now? It was harder.

Harder to look at him when you could see the subtle ways he looked like Ben, see the proud nose that reflected your father, smell the hairspray that covered the dark brown he must have had, see the strong jaw, the same one that you'd traced with your fingertips on Ben's face, and see the small freckles under the smudged makeup of Homelander's cheeks, the same ones the Ben and Rosemary had.

"I was angry when I found the files at Vought, when I saw exactly how hard they worked to keep us all apart. But I'm here now-"

"What the fuck do you want?" Ben spits.

Homelander blinks for a moment confused. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here for you. I want to be apart of this family. I see how you are with Lou and Rosemary and I want that. And I can't wait for you to meet your other grandson Ryan. I'm finally going to give him the family he deserves."

"We don't want anything to do with you." Ben's eyes narrow and Homelander frowns.

"I understand." Homelander stands from the chair he's sitting in, and this time Ben rises from the bed. He's shirtless, but with Ben it didn't matter what he was wearing, he could look damn intimidating when he wanted to. "Butcher's told you all about me right?" Homelander tsks. "Little William Butcher. He's always had it out for me-"

"He has a right to." You narrow your eyes and slide out of Bed so that you're standing beside Ben.

Homelander tilts his head to the side as if trying to think about what you're trying to say, but then he laughs. "Oh you're talking about Becca right? Little tease. I'm sure dad here can relate to the idea that some women, just really do ask for it, right?"

Your jaw tightens in repulsion as a wave of nausea comes surging up from the pit of your stomach realizing exactly the type of monster Homelander was. He wasn't a hero, he was a predator, a venus fly trap complete with all the pretty things to draw you in only to swallow you whole and leave no semblance of yourself behind.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Ben spits. "I'm a lot of things, but I'd never do that to a woman, not if she begged me to stop, not if she didn't want it."

Homelander shrugs. "Don't knock it til you try it."

"You're sick." You could feel your eyes shifting to purple, the room beginning to tremble with the force of your anger and disgust.

"No." He holds up a finger. "I'm not. That's just William, making you believe that I'm unhinged."

"Butcher has not made us believe anything. We've seen it." You respond. "I've seen it in the way you look at people, seen it in the way you smile, in the way you fight, seen it in your eyes-"

"You don't know-"

"I do. Something about us Homelander, is that when you've lived as long as we have, we know what a monster looks like."

"I'm not a monster." His smile drops into a frown.

"You are."

"I'm your son-" Homelander sputters.

"You might be our blood, but you're not our son." The words break you to say, but you hold it together. "Look I'm sorry. Sorry that you grew up that way. Sorry that they turned you into this. Sorry that Ben and I weren’t involved in your life, that we couldn’t have prevented the man you became."

"But-" Homelander glances from Ben to you in confusion.

"My father always saw the good in people." You continue, feeling the emotions at war in your chest, the ones that tell you that this man is your son and the ones that tell you this man is a monster. Your eyes skate over him. “But I don’t see any in you. You’re unredeemable. And as much as it hurts us to push you away, because you of all people need a family. We're going too, because we don’t see any good in you."

Homelander stands there surprised, and you see the façade fall for just a moment, noticing the anger, pain, suffering, sadness, and rage that war within him, each emotion skating across his face in tandem with one another.

"But I found you." Homelander's eyes are misty. "I'm here. I'm your son! I'm your blood." He repeats, his voice breaking in a way that tugs at your heart.

"You might be our blood." Ben repeats watching Homelander. "But you’re not our son. You're just a disappointment."

If you didn't know Ben, you wouldn't understand the weight of those words, but you knew Ben better than anyone, knew how many times that his own father shouted those words at him. You remembered the nights that Ben crawled in through your window after the fights and when he thought you'd fallen asleep you could feel Ben tremble. You hated that his father did that to him and you worked hard to make sure that he didn't hurt as much as he had, just as Ben worked hard to make sure that you didn't remember the things your mother had said and done to you.

Before Homelander can respond, you feel someone else enter the room.

"Aunty y/n? I couldn't sleep. I had a nightmare and I can't find mommy." You hear Lou's voice say and your head turns to the doorway that leads into the basement. Lou is standing there, rubbing her eyes with one hand wearing her matching pink polka dot pajamas. Homelander turns his head to look at the little girl, the red in his eyes fading as he does, a sickening smile beginning to twitch against his lips.

"You must be my niece, Lou." He takes a step towards her and Rosemary appears in the doorway behind her, quickly pushing Lou behind her.

Rosemary does not back down from Homelander's gaze. It wasn't in her nature. She was too much like Ben and like you for her own good.

"And there's sissy." His smile is triumphant as he glances back at you and Ben.

"I'm not your anything." Rosemary's eyes narrow at Homelander.

His frown vanishes again, this time replaced with a snarl. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is?" The playful cadence in his voice is gone. "He was gone for forty fucking years and you brought him back into your lives! So what about me?" He shouts so loud you're sure the house is shaking, gesturing at Ben angrily.

"It's different." Your voice is cold.

"How is it different?"

"Because Ben is human." Rosemary answers. "You're not."

You turn to look at her in shock. It was the first time that she'd defended him since he got back, the first time that she had said something remotely kind about Ben to you or in front of him. Ben looks just as stunned as you do.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Homelander takes another step towards Rosemary, but she doesn't back down. "I am human. More human than you. I see the world for what it really is. I don't follow the rest of the fucking sheep like you-"

"You've been poked, prodded, and told that you were a god every day of your life. Just because we have powers does not mean that we are gods. We bleed, we live, and we die. And maybe somewhere along the way we're lucky to be loved and to love." She snaps. "But you don't. You can't feel love or remorse. You're a fucking monster not a hero. You think you're a hero just because Vought has given you that title. You're nothing more than a little boy chasing after a family you never had and you never deserved. You're not my brother, you're not their son, you're not our family. You're just something that was cut out of my mother, another scar, another manipulation, another science experiment that went wrong, and another way that Vought has ruined her life."

Lou cowers behind her mother, holding tightly to her leg, while Rosemary's hand circles behind her daughter to hold her tighter against her. It was the same thing that Ben was doing to you. You felt genuine fear for the first time in years, fear that you would lose them because of this.

Because Homelander was unhinged, manic, and insane. He might have kept it all hidden under the blonde hair, blue eyes, and the smile, but you saw through it. You'd met supes like him before and you knew that you would meet others in the years to come.

"You got everything didn't you? A loving family? A mother who loved you? A home? You got to be in your child's life. You had everything I didn't have." His voice is eerily calm. "And for what? So you could work at a fucking hospital and degrade yourself, our bloodline, and the fucking power you have to be a slave to other people?!”

Rosemary freezes.

"That's right I know all about you. Know all about all of you. Know about that fucking freak Charlie they inserted into your life, know exactly how much Vought wants Lou. Vought has files upon files about each of you, everything you’ve done, your powers." His eyes flick to the little girl hiding behind her mom. "And yet I'm the disappointment." Homelander's eyes flash back to where Ben and you are standing, something murderous building behind them, before they focus back on Rosemary. "I should have had your life. I'm the one who deserves it! I'm the hero. I'm the one who's more powerful."

You knew that the situation was growing worse by the minute, but with Lou thrown in the mix you weren't sure how this was going to go. You didn’t want her in the line of fire, wished that she had stayed in bed upstairs.

"Mommy I'm scared." You hear Lou whisper as she clutches on to Rosemary tighter.

"Don't be scared Lou." Homelander smiles wide, so wide you can see all his teeth. "This will all be over soon."

The words chill you to the bone, but before you can react, Homelander flies at Rosemary knocking her back through the bathroom wall and away from Lou. Her body crashes through solid tile and bathroom mirror with a resounding crack that echoes through the bedroom.

And just as you leap forward to take him on, Homelander grabs Lou.

There were only a few moments in your life that you’d ever known genuine fear. The day you got the serum, the day that you took the bullet for Ben and you thought you were going to die, and the day that you went into labor. But this was different. Seeing Homelander holding on to Lou wiped away any of those other moments in your life.

Your entire body catches fire with anger and fear. "Put her down." Your voice is unrecognizable, hands clenched into fists. You felt your eyes shift back to a threatening purple, everything in the room trembling under your power, the wood paneling on the wall beginning to peel back and reveal the concrete underneath.

What kind of sick person uses a child as a shield?

Lou squirms in his arms, but Homelander just holds her tighter against him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't I'm going to-" Ben snarls taking a step towards him. Ben's body has already begun to glow, seeping out from his heart as the force of his anger grows with every passing second.

"You're going to what?" Homelander's smile is sinister. "Because it seems to me that you can't do anything to me without poor little Lou here taking the brunt of it."

Rosemary appears covered in plaster, dust, and with pieces of mirror in her dark hair that catch the light in a way that makes her hair sparkle. "Put her down you narcissistic asshole." She snarls, her eyes turning red.

You figured it was because he had touched her, but deep down you hoped that Rosemary still had apart of your power, so you didn’t have to worry about her dying.

Lou tries to reach for her mom, but Homelander holds her closer to him. Tears have begun to trickle down her little cheeks. "Mommy?” She sobs quietly.

"Shh. It's okay sweetie." Homelander purrs bouncing her in his arms. "I've got you."

"Please put her down." You say it calmly, but you can feel your heart jumping around in your chest, beating against your ribcage. You didn't know how to fix this and didn’t know how to appeal to him, not after you'd spent the past twenty minutes telling him that you wanted nothing to do with him and that he wasn't your son. “We can talk this out. She doesn’t have to be apart of this.”

"Sorry no can do. I’m kind of tired of talking to you and to him.” Homelander gestures to Ben with his free hand, who isn’t glowing anymore. “You might not want me apart of your family, but I want Lou apart of mine."

"What?" You croak.

"I think she should meet her cousin. And I think that Ryan would do a lot better with another child in his life, especially one that's supposed to be so powerful." Homelander continues rocking Lou back and forth. "But don't worry. I'll make sure that she's taken care of. And I’ll make sure she reaches her full potential.”

His eyes lock on yours and the chill of his words set in.

“Wait what?” Rosemary says.

But you understand too late.

Homelander shoots upward through the ceiling with Lou screaming in his arms as pieces of rubble crash down into the bedroom Ben and you share.

"No!" You scream in horror and rage, and rise up off the ground, but before you can follow behind Homelander, Ben wraps his arms around your waist to hold you down against him, refusing to let you go alone to face Homelander. “Ben let me go I can-“ By now your voice is nothing more than a shrill scream, tears pouring from your eyes as you struggle against his iron grip. “Please let me go! I have to go after him-”

“You’re not going to face him alone!” Ben shouts back holding you tighter.

But he can’t stop Rosemary.

She flashes past you in pursuit, up through the hole in the ceiling that Homelander left behind, and leaving you to sob and beat your fists against Ben’s chest wishing that it had been you instead.

*********************************************************

A/N: Alright I had to make the first part just a little bit spicy to feel better about the devastation at the end of this chapter.

And I know another cliffhanger, but I promise there is something coming after this and we are quickly reaching the end of this series. 😊

I also want to let everyone now that I have decided to end this series when we get there without any reach into season 4. I do have some very cute ideas for little fics between this reader and Ben following season 3.

However, I am going to write an alternate ending and when we get to season 5 of The Boys with Soldier Boy back in action, I am going to release it and write for season 5, I think. That’s the plan right now, but who knows? I've also got some great ideas for other series I might want to start eventually.

Also anyone getting Syndrome vibes or is it just me? It was not intentional 😂

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444

@lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn

@lifeonawhim @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife

@xxannyxx

@babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm

@lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21 @boywivlove

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake @thesilmarillionblog @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@libby99hb @peachhiz @tinydancer40 @tinystarfishgalaxy

@jvanilly

@libby99hb @lunaticgurly @i-am-typing @52ndstreeet

@anna6307

@pixviee @soldiergrimes @ladysparkles78 @ahoytothestorm

@octoazzy @modiddys-blog @marmie-noir @practicallylivesonline

@impala67stellawinchester

@everlove @dangerousgardenchild

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy/ben #jensen ackles soldier boy #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #homelander #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic

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rozcdust · 3 months

Text

I don’t speak to whores

Pairing: Bonten x AroAce!GN!Reader

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word count: 500ish

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, whore behaviour, NO ROMANCE, just reader bullying Bonten

masterlist

The breakfast passed with Kazutora stubbornly trying to get to know Kakucho better - no matter the man’s valiant attempts of evading Kazutora’s curiosity - the latter was a relentless chatterbox in hours even Sanzu would find ungodly early to try and speak.

By ungodly early, Kakucho means before 1 p.m.

He picked up on the fact that Kazutora was apparently an early bird, the habit of waking up at 6 a.m. sharp still heavily instilled in him, even if it has been nearly a decade since he got out of prison - today was an exception, considering the events of last night exhausted everyone present, but still.

Kazutora clearly perfected the art of being both a talker and an excellent listener, with a soothing smile and perfectly placed nods whenever the conversation demanded it, bright, amber eyes shining with more life than Kakucho has personally seen in years.

It probably said something depressing about his joyless excuse of a life.

Kazutora’s optimism and genuine desire to get to know him made Kakucho feel exceedingly small. Kazutora, even while knowing his background, seemed kind, gentle, lithe shoulders perfectly relaxed even in the company of a wanted criminal, silky smooth hair cascading down his back, back slightly slouched so his collar bones were revealed, showing off the end of his tattoo.

You seemed to ignore the conversation between the two men entirely, only offering brief, sarcastic commentary upon request, busy braiding and unbraiding a small section of Kazutora’s hair as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

The coffee was better than anything Kakucho has tasted before.

“So yeah, y/n loves to trash Fight Club, but they rewatch that damn fucking movie at least once every other month.” Kazutora smiled at your scowling face, only a roll of your eyes indicating your true annoyance as you proclaimed Kazutora a traitorous bastard, letting go of his hair only to take hold of it again.

“It is a homoerotic, satirical movie mocking toxic masculinity, and then dudebros salivate over Tyler Durden and call him an alpha male. That man is a peacock*. I’m not admitting I like that shit publicly.”

“I think Ran likes that movie, actually.” Kakucho remarks, tilting his head - he’s pretty sure Ran told him about it before.

You snort, shaking your head.

“Of course he does.” You clicked your tongue, “He doesn’t get it. Next you're gonna tell me he loves Clockwork Orange too."

“Y/n is a bit of a movie snob.” Kazutora took your hand into his - he glances up at you, silently asking your permission - upon a slight nod of your head, he smiled, planting a soft kiss on your wrist.

Such an innocent little gesture.

It has Kakucho's chest aching.

"I don't think he does." Kakucho tilts his head, scratching his cheek, "He mentioned how he hated the main character."

Your quirk an eyebrow, sipping your coffee.

"Well. Maybe he isn't a hopeless dumb bitch."

"He truly isn't that bad."

You choked on your drink, glaring at the scarred man - he shrunk under your gaze.

"Get out of my house."

a/n: i'm alive. shockingly.

Taglist (i need to start a new one so please do say if you wish to be tagged):

@rinsie @r-xochitl @7rkx @sunahyejin @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @sup-zfam @xashiui @hana-patata @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @kneeapartman @anahryal @reiners-milkbiddies @satsuri3su @aretheea @bluerskiees @winterv-black @astropheia @requiem-of-a-fool @kunikya

(rest of taglist in the comments, so sorry if i tagged anyone twice!)

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev #bonten x reader #bonten x y/n #kazutora x reader #kakucho hitto #kokonoi hajime #sano mikey manjiro #haruchiyo sanzu #ran haitani #rindou haitani

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colonelarr0w · 5 months

Text

Promised Protector

Sypnosis - When a particularly pushy Araj begins to make Astarion revert to a past self that he had been trying so desperately to grow from, it leaves you to step in. It leaves Astarion with a small realization -- you did care for him, really truly cared for him.

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, mentions of abuse (physical and sexual), Araj being an ass, slightly OOC Astarion

Word Count - 1.8k

A/N - Trying my hand at BG3 fanfiction. I have yet to actually play the game, so I'm going purely based off of the playthroughs of others and random clips that I've found sprinkled around YouTube. I do plan to write more for this little vampiric shit, so y'all can leave requests for him as well!

“Must we be here darling? I’m not rather fond of dungeons with … medieval torture devices.”

You bite back the breathy chuckle in your throat as you continue forward, eyes expertly searching your surroundings to ensure that no creature in the dark would ambush you or Astarion.

“For a creature that usually prefers the dark, you’re quite the complainer,” you bite back, tilting your head to cast a glance at the vampire over your shoulder. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shooting you a warning glare – one that you laugh off.

“And for a creature as clumsy as yourself, you’re doing quite well in avoiding any potential traps.” Astarion’s eyebrow raises as you now shoot him a glare. His shoulders rise and fall in a nonchalant shrug as he moves to walk in sync with you, scarlet eyes scanning his surroundings before they allow themselves to return to you.

“I am not clumsy. It was one time,” you roll your eyes, continuing forward and clenching your jaw as Astarion dares to chuckle at your side. “Rich coming from the one who threw a tantrum even after I revived him.”

“Darling, need I remind you that you dropped an entire building on my head?” Astarion whips his head to the side to face you, his eyes narrowed now in a pointed glare that only brings a wide smile to your face. In any other situation, he too would have smiled simply at the sight of your own, but your revealed teeth only make his chest twist in faux anger.

“And need I remind you that it was an accident?”

“In what world is dropping a building on someone an accident?” Astarion murmurs under his breath, stopping when you do. Your eyes flicker to a figure standing just a few feet in front of you – a drow.

She turns as your footsteps and Astarion’s become more audible, curiosity painting itself onto your face as you both approach. Her eyebrows raise, and you’re not sure if her expression is one of intrigue.

“Hello,” you say politely, bowing your head in greeting as the drow eyes you curiously, irises raking over the entirety of your figure before they curiously flicker to peer at Astarion.

“Araj Obladra, a pleasure,” the drow returns just as politely as you, her head dipping in the same bow that you had offered her. “How nice it is to stand in the presence of a True Soul … and her paled companion.”

Astarion’s eyes roll at the nickname, you catch it just out of the corner of your eye. But you choose to ignore it for the sake of not wanting to stir up any unnecessary drama – you had come to Araj for a reason, after all.

“I’ve traveled to inquire about your services if you’re willing to provide them,” you explain, already noticing a glint in Araj’s eye. You’re not quite sure what expression it’s meant to convey, but from the way that she shifts from one foot to another, your gut tells you that it may not be the most positive.

Another thing you notice … how her gaze continuously flickers to Astarion.

“But of course,” Araj replies without hesitation, angling her body so that it faces Astarion rather than you. Your eyes narrow, brows momentarily pinching together. Just what was she playing at?

“You seem … interested in my pale friend here,” you think aloud, immediately wishing that you could swallow your words the moment that you register both Astarion and Araj’s reactions.

“It is not every day that one encounters a vampire spawn,” Araj notes, the term bringing a disgusting taste to Astarion’s tongue. His nose scrunches in that same disgust, and for a moment, a flicker of anger dares to flare up within the depths of your chest. “After all, in exchange for blood, I craft potions.”

A hum rumbles in your throat, though you say nothing. Araj continues, choosing to ignore the expression you wear – the anger that you so clearly display.

“All I truly need is a single drop, and then whatever potion you require … well, I can brew it,” she explains, finally moving from where she stands to circle you and Astarion. It reminds you of a predatory lion, one with slit-like pupils that eyes its prey before promptly pouncing on it.

“And with the rest of it?” you prompt with a raise of your eyebrow. “My blood, I mean.”

“I shall keep it for myself … other potions need to be crafted, as you well know.”

She steps forward, extending her hand and holding her palm out to you. For a moment, you simply think, pondering whether or not you should even trust the drow – especially considering how her eyes still dared to flicker to Astarion. Why was she so interested in him?

You can sense Astarion’s worry from over your shoulder, the feeling rippling off of him like rolling ocean waves. But even with it, you lay your palm over Araj’s.

“There, finished,” Araj says, already stepping back from you the moment that your skin comes into contact with her own. Her eyes, once again, meet Astarion’s.

“And now wh—“

Araj’s attention turns completely now to Astarion, who momentarily falters underneath her gaze. His worry for you morphs silently into disgust directed at the drow.

“There’s still much to discuss,” Araj comments, a smirk just barely pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Such as your paled companion.”

Astarion glances at you, and in return, he’s met with an expression of suppressed anger and jealousy — that would be a conversation for later, he dictates.

“He’s a vampire, is he not? Or vampire spawn?” Araj’s eyes wander over Astarion, drifting down his entire body and ignoring the way that his eyes narrow in a glare at her. She turns then back to you, once again choosing to ignore the fury that glints in the depths of your eyes.

“He belongs to you, am I correct?”

If you weren’t angry before, you were now. Your eyes flicker to Astarion, his expression a mixture of hurt and shock – it was one that you had never seen him wear before, and with the way it made your heart positively crack, you never wanted to see it again.

“The last I checked, he was his own person,” you turn to Araj angrily, “he does not belong to anyone.”

Araj bites back the chuckle that threatens to crawl up her throat, lifting a hand in front of her mouth as she laughs breathily into the skin of her palm. Your teeth grind against each other, jaw setting into place as the drow regains herself.

“Oh, you were serious?” Her eyebrow lifts, the sight of it taking everything in you to not lunge at her and promptly wedge the blade of your dagger into the skin of her neck. “It’s adorable really … if he truly believes you, that is.”

Astarion swears he could hear one of your teeth chip with how roughly you set your jaw into place. His eyes wander down to your hands, taking note of how they clench into white-knuckled fists. Your fingers itch towards the blade in its holster, but you fight the urge to remove it.

“Does your spawn have a name?” Araj shifts her attention back to Astarion, eyeing him once again. He opens his mouth to speak, but with a speed that feels almost inhuman, you answer for him.

“His name is Astarion, and if you dare to call him my spawn again, I will surely–”

“Now, now darling!” Astarion’s hand closes around your mouth, palm pressing to your lips as he flashes you a too-sweet smile – hoping to whatever God was above him that you wouldn’t turn your anger onto him and plunge a dagger between his eyebrows. “Let’s be civil, yes?”

You bite back the angered insult that bubbles up in your chest, swallowing your words and settling back on your feet. Astarion nods, slowly removing his hand from your mouth before he turns to Araj.

“It’s been quite the dream of mine, being bit by a vampire … spawn or the like,” Araj explains, her tone taking on an almost dream-like lull. You can already feel the bile rising in your throat.

And it seems that Astarion shares your sentiment, what with the way that his eyebrows raised and his lips curled in that adorable little scowl.

“I’ll have to decline,” Astarion is quick to answer, shaking his head and taking a tentative step away from Araj, almost as if he’s trying to hide his body behind your own. You allow it, going so far as to then sidestep him and stand protectively in front of him – an action that he smiles gently at.

“I’ll compensate–”

“He said no, thank you very much,” you butt in, glaring down your nose at the overbearing drow. She falters on her feet for a moment, but just as quickly, she recollects herself. “We’ll be going now.”

You turn on your heel, reaching swiftly for Astarion’s hand before promptly leaving – not once sparing a glance to the disappointed drow over your shoulder.

< … >

“Darling?” Astarion hesitantly lifts the flap of your tent, ducking beneath it and entering. You hum from where you sit at your desk, tilting your head slightly to show your acknowledgment. “Are you alright? Your lively presence was missed. You left me to deal with … them … on my own.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you turn in your seat to look at Astarion. At the sight of your face, he falters, his expression softening.

“You’re still upset over that vile drow, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am Astarion!” you rise from your place, throwing your hands up. He flinches, not having expected a violent outburst from you.

“She … she thought that I had ownership of you! All because of what, the fact that you’re a spawn and not a vampire? The nerve of some creatures disgusts me! I mean honestly–!”

“Darling.”

You pause, head lifting so that your gaze finally meets Astarion’s awaiting gaze. His eyes are soft as they gaze at you, lips turned upward in a smile of equal softness. He approaches you, offering his hands to you – which you take without hesitation.

“I want you to know that I … appreciate what you did for me today,” Astarion admits quietly, speaking low enough that you could barely hear him. “It has been many years since I was able to choose my own.”

You soften, squeezing at his hands. “Astarion, you deserve to have your own voice. Nobody should be able to control what you do besides … well … you.”

He draws you closer to his chest, arms locking around your waist as his face buries itself into your hair. You chuckle lightly, returning his embrace and laying your face against his shoulder.

For 200 years, Astarion had never known the sound of his own voice.

But now?

Now he knew the sound of it, and he knew that it mattered.

#colonelarr0w #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion acunin x reader #astarion acunin #bg3 #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3

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morpheus-child-phobos-legacy · 3 months

Text

Oh.

Hello, there.

Who am I?

That’s a wonderful question. I am Kaden Winchester. I am the child of @morpheus-lord-of-dreams. I am the grandson of Phobos. And I am your greatest nightmare.

I will tear Olympus brick from brick, and destroy anyone who has ever allied themself with the cause.

And if that includes you? Count your minutes. And run.

But you can’t hide from fear, and you can’t hide from me…

Oh, and I am a he and wish to be referred to as such. Goodbye :)

Some people, I suppose:

@justice-blood-and-tea — My beautiful girlfriend. Anyone who lays a finger on her is dead to me

@apollos-favorite-child — She exists. And isn’t always an annoyance.

(ooc: run by @peace-love-and-french-toast, who also runs @cabinseventheaterchick! Check them out if you want!)

(PS: like this? I run a roleplay community open to everyone!)

(And extra extra psst. Search “face reveal” on this blog. He has revealed his true form only once thus far.)

#percy jackson rp #the phantom speaks

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chaepink · 11 months

Text

DAY 22: PUTTING ON A SHOW | VOYEURISM

you've been treating denki so well lately whether its buying all the luxury items he wants or taking him out to all the fancy restaurants around. so he thinks it's time for him to repay you back and what's better than having him put on a show for you wearing some sexy lingerie?

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ PAIRING ⸻ denki kaminari x reader

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WARNINGS ⸻ dom!reader, voyeurism, sugar baby x sugar mommy relationship, masturbating, begging, praise, slight degradation, feminization, vibrators (character receiving), ooc kaminari kinda, pet names

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WORDS ⸻ 1.3k words

KINKTOBER EVENT

"Baby, what are you doing? Can I open my eyes now?"

You hear some shuffling around you and a thump, causing you laugh a little.

"n-not yet, [name]! just wait a little more..." Minutes pass as you sit on your chair, contemplating whether or not to take a peek at what he's doing. About fifteen minutes before he told you to close your eyes and that he had a surprise for you but what surprise needed him to be scurrying around the room the whole time? You sigh as you wonder what it could be.

Before you could open your eyes yourself, his voice rings in the room. "You can open your eyes now, [name]." He says, sounding out of breath.

And so when you open your eyes, they immediately widen at the sight of kaminari sitting on both of you's shared bed and you notice the 'surprise' right away. Instead of his usual clothes on, a beautiful shade of red lingerie that compliments him so well adores his body, making your heart race at the sight. The lingerie barely covers his body, the top only covering his upper chest and the undergarment only covering his crotch. It's so revealing.

The material is so thin that you could see his stiffened nipples through it and although kaminari's hands is covering his dick, you still notice the bulge there. He must've ordered a size too small too as it looks like his chest could burst out of the bra at any moment. He notices you ogling his body and he blushes.

"kaminari? what's this for?" You don't remember buying him this outfit. You didn't even think he would be into this stuff at all. But you're not complaining, of course. Why would you be when he looks this good?

He nervously avoids your eye contact. "A s-surprise for you. Cause you've been treating me so good, you know." He mumbles the last part but you still hear it, making your heart swell at his cuteness. Though it's true that you've been spoiling him a lot lately with nice items and fancy restaurants, you haven't really been expecting something like this from him. His head suddenly turns to you, worry in his eyes and a pout on his lips. "Do you not like it? I-I can return it if you want and-"

"Of course not, baby. If anything, I love how it looks on you." You shake your head at him. You make your way towards him, making him turn a even darker shade of red that almost matches his pretty lingerie. Heat radiates off his body when your hand trails up from his waist and to his chest with a grin on your face. Your rather cold hands on his hot body makes him shiver. "And I can't wait to see what you look like at the end when I'm done with you."

His breath hitches in his throat and he stares at you with excitement and lust in his eyes. But almost like he suddenly remembers his other part of the surprise and gently pushes your hand away with a small whine.

"I wanna put a show on for you though." You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "A show?"

He hesitantly nods. "Please? Just s-sit down and watch me." You giggle at his need to ask you. "Of course, darling." Sitting on a chair in front of him, you make yourself comfortable as kaminari shifts around in his spot.

You think it's amusing to see how his now nervous manners differ from his normal personality. It's almost like a switch got flipped in him that turned him into such a blushing mess when he's usually so confident and loud around you and others.

With your entire attention on him, kaminari feels even more nervous than before. His surprise for you has been plaguing his mind for weeks now and he could die from embarrassment if he messes up now.

He can feel your eyes on his hands as he slowly takes his dick out of the confinement of the thin material, leaving a small wet patch on it. His dick is already hard and red with some pre cum at the tip and you're quick to tease him about it.

"Already hard?" You coo at him, making him let out a whine at your teasing. Your words go straight to his dick, making them twitch in his hands.

You feel your heart race when he begins to play with his own dick, breathy moans and whines leaving his mouth and filling the room, making your stomach burn with desire. You watch as his face burns red as he speeds up his movements.

While you wish to go over there and ruin him yourself and make him cry, you hold yourself back, wanting to watch as he touches himself for you instead. He looks at you at the corner of his eyes, wanting your approval.

And you notice it too and how his eyes beg for you to praise him for how well he's doing for you. He's always been a sucker for praise anyways.

"You're so pretty, aren't you kaminari? Touching yourself so well for me too." He lets out a whimper, both at your praise and how his thumb runs over the tip of his dick. His pre cum runs down his hand and the wet sounds of his hand on his dick increases in volume.

"Only I can see how pretty you are in this, right? I'm not even touching you myself and you're falling apart just from your hand. Such a pretty whore for me." He gasps when your praise and degradation sends shocks to his body.

You can't help it when you grab your phone nearby and snap a few pictures of him, making sure to not leave out his thrown back head and his hard dick in it. How could you resist when he just looks so good in the lingerie?

"Tell me when you're close, alright?" He nods but you're not sure if he even heard it properly. Not when it looks like he's already lost himself to the pleasure with his eyes almost rolled back all the way and his legs spread out as apart as they could be, giving you a perfect view of his dick.

It's not long till he mumbles out a 'i'm close.' A little teasing never hurts anyone, you think.

"Do you think you deserve to cum, hm?" Kaminari cries out. "Please? I've been g-good ah! Can I c-cum please?"

A smile makes its way onto your face. "Well you are putting on a adorable show for me so I guess I'll allow you to cum, okay?" He nods and thanks you over and over again, letting out a groan when his orgasm hits him hard. He makes a mess over himself, staining the covers underneath him along with his body and you watch in awe as his eyes roll back. The lingerie gets stained but you both don't care at the moment.

As he's still recovering from his release with ragged breaths escaping him, you make your way towards him and grab his half hard dick into your hand. Kaminari lets out a gasp that turns into a whine when you run your hand against his sensitive dick.

"W-Wait [name]! I'm s-still sensitive o-oh god-" The glint in your eyes makes him whimper. Your hand begins to lazily pump his dick and he swears that he's about to cum again.

"Don't think you're done yet, kaminari. I didn't get a chance to play with you yet and why would I miss this chance?" He shivers at the way you're staring him down. It's safe to say that you really like his surprise.

🏷️ : @vealize21 @fabitheraven @sourissue @jksstuffposts @gallantys @tired-of-life-86 @ineedsleeporilldie @aphoneixnamed-angel @flawlessvictorymentality @wowonamo @euphiroo @saintravey @tomiokx @archer-fb @d1gitalbathh @Lifesucksweswallow @rxflen @aspengagrimlin @ilovemenwhowhimperandbeg @deffnotstarguys @laraleafs @vampcubus @22rhianna2006 @cl-0-vr @katebaku7710 @yenakwyl @katsuslover @mysicklove @uniquebeautylove1 @willburzone @fairyvibez @someonepleasesedateme @arminsesposa

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corviiids · 1 month

Note

i loved your answer to the ooc question... penny for your thoughts on the Core of ren and goro? 👉👈🥺

rubbing my little bug hands together i dunno that i can capture all my whole... mental Akeshu Bible... in one post... but here are some notes on what i'd consider one of the most key points for each.

basically the way this works for me is ill have like a central piece of understanding sitting at the core of how i work with a character, and then let instinct guide their dialogue/behaviour from there.

i wrote a thesis again. two in fact. jesus christ

goro - sincerity is mystifying, dangerous, and impossible, but alluring.

can i talk about light yagami for a second. are we all going to be okay with it if i do that. that's going to make this easier for me to explain

i think light yagami and goro akechi have almost nothing in common once we get past the most obvious similarities - the cynicism borne of shattered once-upon-a-time idealism, the willingness to turn to radical action, the bad hair. anyway the difference i want to point out arises from another key similarity which i think only exists on the surface - the "evil underside true self" counterpart to the "pleasant preppy perfect boy" persona. looks the same. but the difference is that light never struggles with that falsehood, and akechi clearly does.

what i mean by that is i think to light, his perfect persona is nothing more than a simple disguise, albeit one he's been wearing a while without knowing why. he doesn't really have a fractured sense of self, because it's clear that the light yagami who is kira is the True self. the light yagami who is just a nice young man is mostly a falsehood to the point light sees him as a character to be played. (ok this is also an oversimplification but go with me for now. okay. that's the basic of it. just accept this for the sake of argument. this aint about him)

goro is very different. i think in the lead-up to the interrogation room, goro understands himself in a similar way, but after the interrogation room that perception is called into question. okay, i think about the interrogation room scene a lot, because i really didn't like goro's behaviour in that scene when i first played it, i thought it was a very cheap and superficial way to reveal his identity as the traitor by making him act as cartoonishly villainous as possible. and tbh i dont want to give atlus too much credit for creating a super nuanced scene there so what im about to propose is probably unintentional. but anyway, i eventually came around to it because i decided that that cartoonish villanousness must be a choice to goro. at that point in time, goro's perception of himself is akin to light's understanding of kira: black mask/shido's assassin/evil motherfucker is "the true goro", and pleasant boy detective prince is nothing but a mask.

and here i would like to bring up a complicating factor which makes light and goro very, very different. light wants to live. he refuses the shinigami eyes because he wants to exist in his new world to rule over it indefinitely. goro's plan on the other hand has a fixed timeline. goro is aware, and tells us in the engine room, that once his public reputation is shattered, he has nothing. goro's plan involves outing shido by outing himself. ergo, goro's plan is to take shido to the top and then torpedo them together, leaving them both with nothing.

what does this mean? light yagami's mask protects kira - light's true self and a man who wants to live. goro akechi's mask serves the black-masked assassin, but the black-masked assassin serves shido, a role which is just as deceptive as the detective prince. which means goro akechi's disguise protects a self that isn't real, either. it feels disingenuous to say that the version of akechi who exists to be shido's attack dog is his true self. so that goofy villainous smile in the interrogation room is, to me, goro convincing himself that that evil face is who he really is, not realising it's another facade he's playing up - but while the prince's audience is the public, the assassin's audience is goro himself. after that whole thing goes down, i think it becomes clearer that that evil face was goro pretending to himself that he's just a straight up villain who doesn't care about anything because that's easier than conceding that you might feel some complicated way about the self-loathing and bitterness you've been nurturing since childhood.

but wait, there's definitely also truth to the black mask. there's no way to deny that the akechi who attacks them in the engine room had a ton of truth to him that the detective prince lacked. but, wait. goro doesn't perfectly keep up the facade with the detective prince, either, because there are definitely times where he's being honest even when he's being the pleasant boy.

okay, where does that leave us? light has one layer of falsehood (light protects kira), but goro has at least two (detective prince protects black mask protects ???) so what the hell is goro hiding? where's the true self? is the version of akechi who showed up in the interrogation room the black mask, or is it shido's assassin? are those two different guys who overlap? does this mean everything the detective prince said is suspect? we don't know which one is true, but we know they're both lying.

okay. why? what's wrong with him? i should get to my actual fucking point maybe?

this is the central thesis of his shadows in palacefic btw. rather than being divided into a relatively clean true/false like light, goro's true self is split between his personae. every time you talk to any version of goro akechi, you're getting some lies but you're also getting some sincerity. i think goro doesnt know who he is because he doesn't see any particular use for having a real self at the end of the day, only masks he can use to achieve his ends.

except you can't actually kill your true self. it sticks around. so the most he can do is fragment it. but the consequence is the shards get stuck in his masks. every time he tries to put on a mask, a shred of truth peeks out. i think goro wants to not exist and not be known, but inside every mask he wears is a true part of him that desperately DOES want to be known, but can't allow it, but wants it, but is scared of it, but wants it, but hates it, but will die if it happens, but wants it.

what you end up with is a really self-contradictory guy where every time he talks, the things he's saying are simultaneously true and false. it's the worst with ren, because he's really interested in ren, but allowing ren to know him is suicide. light's really good at playing the part because he has no investment in the part, it's purely fake, and all his investment is in his true self. but goro is invested in each of his masks, because each of his masks contains part of him for real and there's no unified self to return to at the end of the day. so he struggles way more with the act than light does, because there's a part of him, however small, that really wants to drop the mask. but he can't, because there's nothing behind it, so there's nothing he can do

anyway when i write goro's dialogue and behaviour, it's not just writing a guy lying and playing a part because he needs the cover, it's goro injecting himself into mould after mould after mould and trying to keep a balance of how much he can reveal vs how much he needs to keep close to his chest. this is why he talks so fucking much, it's why his speech mannerisms aren't always perfectly polished, it's why the mask slips so often, it's why he's so cartoonishly evil at times, and it's why while light yagami is a popular guy who has everyone around him perfectly fooled, goro akechi is really only able to appeal to the subset of fans who are keen on his particular celebrity style while other people find him kind of annoying and disingenuous. when im writing akechi in xyz situation, it's a process of working out which mask he's wearing, what he wants to achieve, what he's hiding, how much he can or would slip, and what that slip might look like. i think this is heightened because of his circumstances, but i also think goro would be incredibly guarded and paranoid no matter what his circumstances were (although the murder might decrease a little).

tl;dr: goro akechi tries to do away with his sense of self but only succeeds in splitting it into a hundred million pieces covered in lies, each of which is desperate to be known but shies away with equal desperation

ren - in a distant relationship with the sense of self

idk that thats the right word but basically i think in true persona protag fashion, and as alluded to by beneath the mask / the power of the wild card / etc the relationship between ren's personae and his 'true self' is more complicated and detached than most of the other characters. i dont agree that the protags are true "blank slate" protagonists in the meta sense but i do think ren is a "blank slate" person in-text in that simultaneously he has extremely strong core values and beliefs which are absolutely immovable, and traits which shine through even in his limited speech, but the manifestation of his personality is a lot more malleable than say ryuji's is. ren is very flexible and wears a different mask depending on who he's talking to. i think that requires a level of detachment which manifests as basically centering his companion's character + needs in a given interaction over his own. this doesnt just come through in his dialogue but also in the way he internally reflects on what's happening.

the way this manifests most obviously in how i write him is that my ren (in texts especially but also in dialogue) has a tendency to omit his personal pronoun (in subject position).

that gives him kind of a laid-back vibe. he has a habit of omitting the first part of a sentence entirely.

he adds it back in when he's talking about something more serious, very alert, feeling uncomfortable, etc. it happens a lot when he talks to akechi because he needs to be very switched on during those conversations to keep up.

idk i know that for some people the joy of having a protagonist character is being able to make them into whoever you want them to be - so your ren might be extra flirty for example which i think is a really popular characterisation of him because it's fun and it has some basis in his dialogue, and it's a choice i went with for a while before i started shifting away from it. recently i've been way more interested in trying to reconcile this really strong-willed guy with a clearly rich and rebellious inner life with the quiet slouched character who says like 3 words every conversation and who really never reveals anything about himself. like, imagine he's a real person and not just a blank slate protagonist i can push and pull - how do i make his little mousy 8< self work with the fact that he's an international criminal without adding something on top that isn't already there in him? i think there's a way to do it and i think the way to do that is to have him internalise as much as possible. for everything he says, there are a billion things he doesn't say. that makes it really fucking difficult to actually portray him sometimes because his rich inner life can really only come through if we have access to his inner monologue, and if he's not the pov character we don't, but you know, i love a stupid fucking self imposed challenge. ren amamiya is like laying breadcrumb clues in his dumb ass 3 word dialogue options that im crawling over like weevils with a magnifying glass

but he DOES leave clues! so many of his dialogue options are sarcastic and dry or straight up goofy. so he's funny, he's deadpan, he can be impatient. but if you take that too far in dialogue, it gets overplayed, and he loses his taciturn charm, so you have to pull it back, because he's restrained, not overt. he's quippy, he's not wordy. he's a show-off, but in a self-assured way. he will never indicate in any way that he wants you to look at him. he'll just make sure he's so impressive that you can't look away. if he winks, it's like he's keeping a secret between you, not like he's putting on a show. he delivers one-liners only, not full jokes, and the setup and knockdown has to be in the same breath. if his thoughts can't be condensed into one sentence, two or three max, he doesn't say them, he keeps it to himself. whether his emotions show on his face depend on how well you can read him, and it depends who he's with, it depends how recently he's been joker, it depends if there's some extenuating factor in there that's going to make him crack. ren's more likely to crack if he's standing up for someone else.

his inner monologue is just as interesting to grapple with because my ren is pretty repressed. the more upset he is, the more he distances himself from how he's actually feeling. he's very good at deflecting people and he's also very good at deflecting himself - focus on someone else, focus on the environment around him, focus on some physical sensation, don't get too far into his own head, or else

tl;dr: ren handles himself with a mix of internalising and externalising by swallowing down everything he might want to say out loud but outsourcing and distancing from his sense of self to keep himself steady

#THIS IS OVER TWO THOUSAND WORDS #i am so sorry. dont read this. dont even look at me #asks #rookthots #the tldr tldr is theyre both repressed

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bugs1nmybrain · 3 months

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Could you possibly write Professor Aizawa x college student reader, where UA is a college instead of a high school?

Teacher's Crush - Professor!Aizawa x College Student!Reader ☆ Part 1

Warnings: No smut but nsfw, fem-reader, Professor x student, age gap (readers in early 20s, Aizawa is 30), no sex and cliffhanger, unrealistic confession, not proofread, very ooc aizawa

Notes: OOF. I questioned if I should do this because it is admittedly a guilty pleasure, but it feels taboo?? Then I remembered some of the somno and dub-con stuff I've written and humbled myself down. Fiction is meant to be fun. You're in luck! The recent chapters of MHA rekindled my Aizawa fixation a bit. Very excited to write this.

I plan to make a part 2 of this that will include ooey gooey SMUT. There's just a lot that has to build up to their relationship.

The College won't be UA itself but an out of canon school. Any MHA students will not be included. Aizawa is an English teacher because I noticed that he likes reading in Vigilantes so maybe he has a secret passion for it.

Notes About Reader: Fem-reader, Honor student, shorter than Aizawa, curvy, early 20s

College had its challenges, but overall, you were an A+ student and even better, a teacher's pet. Or..professor's pet?

Professor Aizawa had a soft spot for you. One that he was ashamed of. But the thing was, he couldn't help himself be completely enamored by his favorite student. You were responsible, kind, humble, smart, and reliable. A brilliant student, he could tell from your essays and comments in class. A mind of your own. That's not to say that you were flawless. Sometimes, you'd make a grammatical mistake or two, but he ignorantly disregarded them (which he did not do with the other students) because he enjoyed the appreciative thanks you gave him on the school website when you got a perfect grade.

It's a good thing he was respectful, because you also waltzed into class with little slutty skirts and tops that conveniently showed off your waist and tits. Like today. Yeesh, playing the schoolgirl angle up much?

"Who can tell me the cultural significance of this week's reading?"

Professor Aizawa glanced around to the sounds of crickets. Even you weren't speaking up, though you did seem to have a peculiar look on your face. He wondered how your expression would shift.

"Y/n."

You jolted up and redirected your attention.

"What're your thoughts?"

"Oh, well, I assumed it was important because it showed the socioeconomic struggles of people in the real world in this time period and what they did to make ends meet."

"Great work. Sharp as always, Y/N."

You smiled at him with what seemed like a blush. This was regular lately. You always dressed nice, but lately, your outfits were more revealing, and you became more flustered at his praise. You were so cute.

He wanted you so bad.

And so did you.

Professor Aizawa was one of the younger instructors at this school, though still well older than you. But with his sluggish looks and broody attitude, you'd think he was older than 30. You weren't the only one charmed by him. You heard some students joke about who had the biggest dick out of all professor's and how Aizawa was easily on the top. You wondered how true that was...

He gave you looks that he didn't to the others and you weren't stupid. The As you recieved seemed undeserving at times, but he'd marvel at your work. You caught him peaking when you'd lift up from a chair and your body was on display for him. How soft his tone was with you, and an underlying lust from both of you.

"It's 4pm. Class dismissed." As everyone began gathering their supplies, Aizawa stood from his desk and came over to you.

"Y/N. I'd like to speak with you once everyone's left," he said as if it wasn't an option.

"Wha-what's wrong?" You panicked. You became anxious whenever you suspected you've done something wrong. Especially from Aizawa.

"Don't stress, just stay seated and wait for them to leave."

You nodded sheepishly. Aizawa stood by his desk, trying to keep distance between you and him. You didn't know what on earth was wrong and to upset your favorite professor would hurt you for the rest of the semester.

The rest of the students left, leaving the empty noise between you and Aizawa. He stood seated on his desk with his hands figeting with each other.

"You always tell us to get off the seats," you joke, not remembering that you may be in trouble right now.

"This is my desk. Those chairs are the schools."

"Right. I'm sorry, sir."

Mm.. you were too much for him.

"Why-why, uh. Did I miss an assignment? I did have a busy week so I'm not sure."

"No. Nothing like that. Your grades are perfect, one of the best in my class and I wager the rest of your classes, right?"

"Well, I'm not the brightest in CIS, but I have an A."

"The A is what matters. You seem pretty hard on yourself, I've come to notice."

"I-uh. Hm?"

"I have to pay attention to all my students to make sure you're all living up to your potential. You're talented, and you have a promising future. You're really not an English major?"

"No. I don't read as much as this class has me."

"You seem to like movies based on your personal essays. Film studies have similar elements, you know? But I'm sure you're going to do great things with your degree."

"Thank you, Aizawa. Um. You're much nicer to me than the others, I've noticed," you laugh nervously.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yes."

Aizawa chuckled softly. The first laugh you've heard from him. You weren't sure if Aizawa was even capable of humor.

"Well it's because I.."Shota stammered, realizing he really didn't have a solid reason for keeping you behind. He figured just having a reassuring peptalk could win him moments with you. But you were catching on.

Shota's gaze zoned out on your breasts without thought. He admired your short stature and full features more than he should. It felt wrong. You were his student.

"What's that?" You asked.

"I suppose I just see you as a model student."

"Thank you, Professor Aizawa."

"Of course. I was wondering if perhaps you'd be interested in doing a work study as my personal teaching assistant."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. You'd recieve hourly pay and it's part time. I think you're smart enough to handle it."

"I mean, yea! I would love that. I've been trying to get work study for a while but I've had troubles."

Well, this was convenient he thought, considering it was spur of the moment. "I'm glad to hear that. You'll do great and I look forward to working with you."

While you were still here, Aizawa thought of another way he could capture your attention. Your outfit was a problem and it made him feel in checkmate. His cock would grow in his pants just at the sight and the filthy thoughts he had. Though it was against his personal beliefs on the matter, it could be worth it to scold you.

"You know...Y/N. Your sense of style is rather revealing as of late."

"Oh."

"I'm not mad. It's just that the students, especially the boys, might have a hard time focusing in class."

Aizawa eyed you with a faint look of wanting, as if he was trying to signal to you his intentions. He's already accepted he's borderline fucked if you two got together. Would he risk that? With the submissive and hungry pout you gave him back, though...hell yea he would.

"Am I being dress coded?" You perk up playfully.

"Mm..well, maybe you should show me if that skirt passes your fingertips, hm?"

You couldn't believe what was happening. You halfway doubted he was actually trying to make a move, but you realized that he was angled in a way to conceal his crotch from a boner.

"I- um!" You blushed and cracked a smile. You got up and started to check the fingertips, but Aizawa snickered again.

"I wasn't serious about that," he smiled at you, shamelessly looking you up and down. "Y/N, I'm really proud of you. So responsible, smart, attentive. Always in the front of my class, giving me a gorgeous smile. Are your clothes maybe a call for my attention, too?"

It's like he caught you like a deer in headlights. You stammered and looked down at the floor, in disbelief of what he was saying to you. You felt a tingle in between your legs, and Aizawa noticed your squirm.

"Come here," he looked at you with a motion of his pointer finger. So you obeyed and stood in front of him. "Do you have a crush on me?"

He got you.

You felt heated and panicked, worried this would be a problem. By how he spoke, it seemed thay he liked you too. But this was wrong, right?

"I..I mean, you are my favorite professor."

"Uh-huh..that's good to know,"he smirked, encouraging you to say more, but you kept quiet. "Is that why you're always nearly the only student to stay for extra lessons? With your smarts, you certainly don't need them."

"Well, it always helps to stay on top of things," you bluffed.

"That also explains you staring at me in the halls and through the teachers lounge window?"

Did he really notice that? You thought.

"..maybe. I'm sorry, Professor Aizawa.." You spoke in shame.

"It's alright, kitten."

!~¡☆!

Kitten

"This is very inappropriate," he remarks, as if you were the one who approached him.

"Well. Yea."

"Mhm. Are you able to keep a secret for us? Do you want that?"

You stared at him with huge eyes of excitement. You swore you must've been dreaming. You soon felt a calloused hand brushing up again your hand.

"How rational do you think this is?" You giggled, moving closer to rest your forehead on his.

"Not very. But it's not rational to force these things away, either." He sighed in relief, feeling his heart become warm. "Would you like to go out to dinner with me? Out of town, ideally."

"Yea. That'd be very nice."

#aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #professor au aizawa

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ironicxblue · 5 months

Text

Ahhhhh, in a week's time, I'll be flying to Japan. I'm so excited. Obviously, gonna buy some Enstars merch and doujin whilst there lololololol

#revealing my true face / ooc #it's okay though as my bf will be doing the exact same so i won't be alone in my nerdiness

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mcntsee · 1 year

Text

Schön

Summary: Kaz calls y/n by the nickname he gave her during their childhood for the first time in years.

Context: Schön (and correct me if I’m wrong please) means pretty in German and it’s pronounced ‘Shawn’ (kinda). As far as I know, Ketterdam is based off Amsterdam (and well, Antwerp, Las Vegas, London, and old New York). I don’t know Dutch, but I know a little bit of German, and I believe Dutch and German are very similar so I’m using German as “Kerch”.

Warnings: Kinda ooc Kaz, kaz is ok with y/n’s touch. Stabbing, blood, killing.

Note: This was a request! Prompt 18. “You haven’t called me that in years.” from this list.

Y/N's heart raced as she darted through the crowded streets of Ketterdam, her small legs carrying her as fast as they could. Panic consumed her as she glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of the men chasing after her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to escape their grasp.

In her frantic haste, Y/N's foot caught on an uneven cobblestone, causing her to stumble and fall. Pain shot through her knee as it scraped against the rough ground, leaving behind a raw, deep red mark. Her cries mixed with the hustle and bustle of the city, but they caught the attention of a boy.

Kaz observed the scene from a distance. At first, he contemplated walking away, dismissing the young girl's predicament as not his concern. However, something stirred within him when he saw her silently sobbing while attempting to clean her injured knee. Approaching cautiously, Kaz extended a trembling hand towards Y/N, offering to help her up. "Need a hand?" he asked, his voice devoid of its usual harshness.

Y/N's watery eyes widened at the unexpected act of kindness. Sniffling, she nodded, placing her small hand in his. Kaz pulled her upright, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual guarded nature. "Why were you running?" Kaz inquired, his gaze scanning their surroundings.

Y/N hiccuped, her voice shaky. "Scary men are after me. They want to take me away." Kaz's eyes narrowed as he spotted the menacing figures in the distance. Without hesitation, he grabbed Y/N's covered wrist and tugged her along. "Come with me," he said, leading her towards a dilapidated building tucked away in an alley.

As they reached their temporary hideout, Y/N gazed curiously at their surroundings. "Where are we?" she asked, peering at the crumbling walls and cracked windows.

Kaz hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer. "This is... my home. Well, at least for now," he responded, his tone uncharacteristically soft. The girl’s eyes widened in awe and curiosity. "Your home? It's so... interesting."A flicker of a smile ghosted across the young boy’s face. "Interesting is one way to put it."

As they sat side by side, waiting for the commotion to die down, Y/N's curiosity got the better of her. "What's your name?" she asked, her voice filled with childlike wonder. Kaz pondered for a moment, then replied, "It's a secret."

Y/N giggled, finding the secrecy amusing. "Then I won't tell you mine either."

A mischievous glint danced in Kaz's young eyes. "That’s alright, I’ll just call you…” He paused for a second, multiple words racing through his mind “Schön.” He decided. Y/N's face lit up, a radiant smile spreading across her features. "I like that.”

As Kaz and Y/N's lives entwined further within the shadows of Ketterdam, there came a time when the walls they had erected around their names and true selves began to crumble. In a quiet moment, under the veil of secrecy that shrouded them, they revealed their true identities to each other.

Kaz, once guarded to the point of secrecy, shared his name with Y/N. His voice, usually cold and distant, softened as he spoke the words. Y/N reciprocated, unveiling her own name, removing the barrier that had separated them for so long.

With this newfound trust, the nickname "schön" that Kaz had lovingly bestowed upon Y/N became less frequent. Instead, their true names became the melody that carried their conversations.

As they continued their clandestine operations, the connection between Kaz and Y/N deepened further. Their everyday interactions held a sense of familiarity and ease, as if they were two halves of a whole, inextricably linked by a bond that defied the chaos around them.

Within the safety of their unspoken understanding, Kaz and Y/N discovered a mutual admiration that transcended friendship. They found solace in each other's presence, their souls resonating in harmony. In the stolen moments, their gazes lingered a little longer, and even though rarely, their touches held a hint of tenderness that spoke of something more.

But both Kaz and Y/N knew the risks that came with love, the dangers that accompanied such vulnerability. In a world as treacherous as theirs, they had witnessed the consequences of affection, the ways it could be exploited and used as a weapon. And so, they buried their growing feelings deep within their hearts, locking them away, hidden even from each other.

Y/N sat by the bar at the Crow Club, the dim lights casting a soft glow upon her thoughtful expression. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the delicate necklace hanging from her neck, the pendant swaying gently with each movement. It was a treasured possession—a gift from Kaz, given to her during their youthful days.

The necklace held a special significance, a secret that only Y/N carried. Its pendant, adorned with a subtle elegance, bore the word “schön” engraved upon it. It was a word that had once fallen from Kaz’s lips, a nickname he had lovingly bestowed upon her when they were younger.

As Y/N’s fingertips danced along the engraved letters, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. The necklace, like a cherished memory, held the power to transport her back to a time when they were just children navigating the streets of Ketterdam.

In those fleeting moments, Y/N recalled the innocence of their friendship and the unwavering bond they had forged. Kaz’s cold facade had momentarily thawed, revealing a side of him that only she had the privilege of witnessing. His voice, soft and tender, had once whispered the endearing nickname that had become etched upon her heart.

Y/N missed those simpler times when she was “schön” to Kaz, a word that spoke volumes about the connection they shared.

As Y/N lost herself in thought, a voice interrupted her reverie. Jesper, with his mischievous grin, approached her at the bar. “Hey there, what have you got there?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Y/N glanced up, her fingers still wrapped around the necklace. “Oh, it’s just a necklace,” she replied, offering a small smile.

Jesper leaned in closer, his eyebrows raised. “I’ve never seen you wear it before.“

Y/N paused, contemplating how to explain the significance of the necklace. “Well, It’s a gift from someone special so,” she answered softly. “I keep it tucked under my shirt most of the time so I won’t lose it.”

A playful smirk played on Jesper’s lips as he extended his hand, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Well, let me have a look, then.“

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then placed the pendant delicately in Jesper’s outstretched palm. “It’s nothing extraordinary,” she said with a shrug. “Just something that holds sentimental value.”

Jesper’s fingers traced the engraved word, and a smile spread across his face. “Schön? That’s ‘pretty’ cute,” he remarked, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of playfulness.

Y/N laughed, a light and genuine sound escaping her lips. “Yes, I suppose it is,” she agreed, the memories of Kaz’s endearing nickname resurfacing.

Before Jesper could ask anymore questions, a commanding voice cut through the air, instantly demanding their attention. It was Kaz, his presence like a dark shadow casting itself over the room.

“Y/N, Jesper,” Kaz’s voice rang out with authority. “Both in my office.”

Without hesitation, they followed Kaz through the crowded bar and up the stairs, making their way to his office. The familiar surroundings were filled with maps, blueprints, and other intricate tools of their trade. Kaz outlined the details of a new heist, weaving a web of intricate plans, contingencies, and potential obstacles. His words painted a picture of danger and reward, enticing them with the promise of triumph and the thrill of outwitting their adversaries.

After the intense brainstorming session, the trio emerged from the confines of Kaz’s office, their minds buzzing with the intricacies of the heist. The plan had taken shape, a delicate dance of strategy and execution waiting to be set into motion.

They navigated the winding streets of Ketterdam with practiced ease, each step purposeful and calculated. In the shadows, their presence was barely noticeable, as if the very streets themselves conspired to cloak their intentions.

Their destination loomed ahead—the opulent mansion of a wealthy merchant, their target for the heist. The building stood as a testament to opulence, its grandeur beckoning like a siren’s call, but to Kaz it was simply a puzzle waiting to be solved.

As they slipped into the shadows separating, their steps became as one, a choreographed dance of precision and finesse. They evaded the watchful eyes of the mansion’s guards, navigating the labyrinthine corridors and secret passages that lay hidden beneath the veneer of luxury.

Their senses were momentarily clouded by the thrill of success. Unbeknownst to them, a lone guard had caught sight of their presence and stealthily trailed one through the labyrinthine corridors.

As Y/N turned a corner, she found herself face to face with the guard, their eyes locked in a tense standoff. Without a moment’s hesitation, they engaged in a hand-to-hand combat, their bodies fluid and poised, each maneuver executed with calculated precision.

Y/N’s agility and skill propelled her forward, her blows landing with calculated force. She fought valiantly, her determination unyielding, unaware of the danger that lurked within her blind spot.

A sharp pain exploded through Y/N’s leg as the blade of the guard’s dagger pierced her flesh, causing her to double over in agony. Before she could fully comprehend the gravity of her injury, another searing pain ripped through her side as the guard’s blade found its mark once more.

Y/N’s vision blurred, and her body weakened under the assault. Each breath became a struggle, her movements slowed by the relentless pain coursing through her. Yet, she refused to surrender. Drawing upon every ounce of strength and resilience, she fought through the haze of pain, her determination fueling her every move.

In a moment of distraction, the guard, believing victory was imminent, let his guard down. It was in this moment that Y/N seized the opportunity. With gritted teeth, she mustered her remaining strength and, with a swift motion, snatched the dagger from her side, clutching it tightly in her hand.

Silently, her eyes ablaze with fierce determination, Y/N struck back, the blade finding its mark as she swiftly cut the guard’s neck. The fight ended as abruptly as it had begun, the guard collapsing to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Y/N stood there, panting heavily, the pain from her wounds throbbing relentlessly. As she pressed a hand against her side, trying to stem the bleeding, Y/N fought against the pain that threatened to overpower her, fighting against the urge to cry out. The cloak of silence that shrouded her actions was her only defense, ensuring that no additional guards would be alerted to their presence.

With every ounce of strength she could muster, Y/N made her way outside, her hand pressed against her side, desperate to find Kaz and Jesper. As she stepped into the cool night air, her eyes scanned the dimly lit street, searching for a familiar figure.

And then she saw him.

Kaz stood there, a bag of stolen goods slung over his shoulder. Relief washed over Y/N as she caught sight of him, her tense muscles finally finding respite in his presence. For a brief moment, she let her guard down, allowing herself a semblance of relaxation.

But as her body weakened and her vision blurred, Kaz was not prepared for the sight that followed. Y/N’s strength waned, her legs unable to bear the weight of her injuries any longer. With a sudden collapse, she fell to her knees, the pain and blood loss overwhelming her.

Kaz’s sharp eyes caught the sudden motion, and his heart twisted with concern. He wasted no time, his strides purposeful and swift as he closed the distance between them. Kneeling beside Y/N, he carefully assessed her injuries, his eyes revealing a mixture of worry and determination.

“Y/N,” Kaz’s voice, usually composed and collected, trembled with unspoken emotion. He gently cradled her, supporting her weakened form with a tenderness that belied his reputation. “Can you walk back to the slat?”

Y/N, determined to prove her resilience, nodded weakly. With a trembling arm draped over Kaz’s shoulder, she summoned the last vestiges of her strength and attempted to rise to her feet. “Jesper?” Each step was a struggle, but for a while, she managed to shuffle forward, her willpower pushing her onward. “I told him to go to the slat. He was getting angsty.”

However, with every passing moment, Y/N’s strength waned, her body succumbing to the relentless toll of her injuries. The once steady rhythm of her footsteps became unsteady, her grip on Kaz tightening as her body threatened to give way.

Kaz’s caught the subtle signs, the flicker of her fading consciousness and the growing frailty of her form. Panic laced his voice as he implored, “Schön, don’t do this to me.”

The word “schön” slipped from Kaz’s lips, a poignant echo of their shared history. Y/N, her voice barely above a whisper, managed to utter a response. “You haven’t called me that in years.” she murmured, her voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and vulnerability.

Those words hung in the air, a testament to the time that had passed and the unspoken desires that had lingered between them. A fragile thread that connected their hearts.

With a strength born of desperation, Kaz adjusted his hold on Y/N, his arms wrapping more securely around her trembling frame. As her body grew weaker, he carried her weight, refusing to let her fall.

“I know,” Kaz murmured softly, “I just… I like the sound of your name better.“ Y/N, her strength waning, mustered a faint smile, even amidst the pain and fatigue. The tender words Kaz spoke reverberated within her, a balm to the weariness that threatened to claim her. “Stay with me,” Kaz pleaded, his voice filled with a desperate determination.

Y/N, her breaths coming in shallow gasps, managed to respond through gritted teeth. “Just keep talking to me, Kaz.” He nodded, his gaze locked on Y/N’s face, his words a lifeline in the darkness that threatened to engulf them.

“Remember when we first met?”

Y/N managed a weak laugh, her voice barely audible. “How could I forget? You were my knight in shining armor, rescuing me from that terrifying man. I knew then you were the bravest person I’d ever meet.” her grip on Kaz’s arm tightening.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kaz’s lips, a rare display of warmth in his eyes. “Did the scar on your knee ever go away? I don’t think I ever asked.” Her gaze shifted down to her knee, where the faint scar remained covered as a testament to their first encounter. “No,” she replied softly “it’s still there.”

As they continued their walk back to the slat, the weight of Y/N’s condition became more pronounced. Kaz’s voice grew more urgent, realizing that her eyes were taking longer to open with each blink. “Did I ever tell you how I got your necklace?”

Y/N’s weakened voice murmured a barely audible “no,” but her curiosity piqued.

“I stole it.” As Kaz’s words hung in the air, he paused, his gaze shifting to Y/N, only to find her already looking at him. Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them, as if they were sharing a moment that transcended time itself. “I saw it on a stand, shining and beautiful. At first, I tried to collect enough money to buy it. I saved every kruge, counted every coin. But in the end, I realized I would never have enough. So, I took it. For you.”

A fleeting smile graced Y/N’s lips. She reached a bloody, trembling hand to touch the necklace that hung around her neck, the metal cool against her skin. “It means more to me than you can imagine.”

In the lingering silence that enveloped them, Y/N felt the darkness inching closer, threatening to claim her consciousness. Determined to hold on, she summoned her remaining strength and mustered the courage to break the silence.

“Why ‘Schön’?” Y/N’s voice, soft and delicate, pierced through the quietude, carrying a hint of curiosity and vulnerability.

Kaz’s gaze shifted to her, and though his demeanor remained guarded, a flicker of something akin to a blush danced across his features. He hesitated for a moment, as if considering his response, before finally meeting her eyes and speaking with a raw honesty that melted the icy walls around his heart.

“Because you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen,” Kaz confessed. A gentle smile tugged at Y/N’s lips, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes. She couldn’t resist teasing him, even in their current circumstances. “Was?” she teased, her voice tinged with a playful challenge.

A hint of a deeper blush colored Kaz’s cheeks, his usual composure momentarily wavering. “Still are.”

#fanfiction #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #angst #fluff #kaz brekker

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esamastation · 10 months

Text

Part sixty-one of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty

"There, wasn't that so much faster?"

If looks could kill, Tseng's answering glare would've had him six feet under. He doesn't object, though, and Sephiroth grins smugly. He knows might've given the Turk a perfect opportunity to observe his new abilities and that might come back to bite him in the ass, but Sephiroth doesn't care anymore.

He's already fucked everything up! He's killed the protagonist! Maybe! Possibly!

Though true enough, Final Fantasy VII has a weird relationship with mental illness and death and coming back from both, so brain dead is probably nowhere near permanent - but then again, it might be a gateway to who knows what kinds of shenanigans. Especially where Cloud Strife is concerned! The guy was mind controlled left and right, literally swam through the Planet, came out with a major case of broken brain, had someone go into said brain, and recovered! Like. Cultivators could go through some weird stuff too, but that is really something else together!

And the worst thing is, Sephiroth doesn't know how reliant this world is on its protagonists. Back in PIDW, if something happened to Luo Binghe, it might've very well led to Game Over for the rest of them. It definitely would've been Game Over for Shen Qingqiu! Their Protagonist was literally the lynchpin holding everything together. What if Cloud Strife is the same?

And what if Sephiroth's sloppy approach to transmigration this time led to his death?

So, yeah. He doesn't really care about what he reveals. Between accidentally leading to Protagonist's death and becoming the Big Planet-Killing Bad, he's probably got some leeway here. He's already OOC, he already messed stuff up. Who cares!

Plus… Tseng's face was really funny.

Tseng adjusts the front of his suit jacket, giving him the side-eye. "Faster, maybe. Necessary…?"

"It was very necessary. There's barely a signal at the house!" Sephiroth says innocently and brings out his phone, opening it with a decisive snap. "You can send messages, sure, but to make calls? Besides, you're the one who insisted on tagging along."

Tseng gives him a bitchy face. "I appreciate your accommodation for my wishes, then," he says acerbically. His tone suggests he wouldn't be insisting again.

Sephiroth grins and then turns his attention to his phone. Genesis' number is the third on speed dial, after Mission Office and Angeal.

He answers on the third ring.

"Someone had better be dying," Genesis groans, voice sleep-rough and stretched by a yawn.

Oh, oops, time zones. "Ah, Genesis, did I wake you?" Sephiroth asks, wincing, and turns to walk away from Tseng, following the mountainside and keeping to the clear, where he knows the connection works.

"Sephiroth," Genesis answers, and nothing else. Oh dear, he's really not happy.

Leaning his head back to look at the sky as he walks and hoping he wouldn't be paying for this later, Sephiroth clears his throat. "I'll, uh, just get to the point, shall I? You know about the new injection trials?"

"Yes," and again nothing else. Sephiroth is on very thin ice, it seems.

Walking away from Tseng is more for his peace of mind than anything - he's pretty sure Tseng is wiretapping him somehow. Still, he checks back to make sure there's some distance in between before speaking.

"There's one candidate that went brain dead," Sephiroth says, and looks away. "I need to know what you know about him."

Genesis is quiet for a long moment before a sigh sounds through the connection, and then there's a sound of bed frame cracking and a heavy breath as Genesis stands up. "Hang on a moment."

Sephiroth waits, biting his lower lip, watching the clouds drift over the forests below.

"Cloud Strife, fourteen years of age, originally from a little town called Nibelheim on the middle continent," Genesis says, accompanied by the sound of papers rustling. "He signed up for the SOLDIER candidate trials a little under a month ago and was pulled into the new project five days ago. He got two injections, both on the same day, and flatlined almost immediately after the second one," Genesis trails away. "They managed to rez him, but by then the oxygen deprivation wreaked havoc on his brain. He'd been on life support in a Mako tank since."

Sephiroth falls to sit on a rocky outcropping sticking out of the mountainside. "Shit."

"Mmhmm," Genesis says. "Hard to say who has it worse, him or the ones who have fallen. You do know that this mess has already led to deaths, right?"

Well, now he's angry. "I know, I know," Sephiroth sighs, running a hand over his face. "I'm sorry."

"Tch," Genesis answers and there's a sound of papers being thrown. "Madness of the beasts leads to the corruption of good men. I'm guessing Strife has a chance of ending up like you, then?"

"... What?" Sephiroth asks.

"Oh, don't play coy, I'm far too tired," Genesis scoffs. "You got overdosed, flatlined and changed. The injection did something to you, gave you knowledge. Is the same going to happen to Strife? That's why Hojo is dragging it out keeping him alive, but if you think so too…"

Sephiroth clasps a hand over his chin. He hadn't even thought about it. Could it happen? Another transmigration, in style similar to his? PIDW had two transmigrators, but they were very different. Shang Qinghua began as a baby, Shen Qingqiu inherited a full life of an established scum villain.

If Cloud Strife died - which he might've already… does that make him open for transmigration? Who would transmigrate into him? Shang Qinghua was slated to die, just like Shen Qingqiu was, but… Airplane, in a Protagonist? Why would he?

Why had Sephiroth?

"I… don't know," Sephiroth admits. "I can't… deny the possibility."

"Damnation," Genesis sighs. "What should we expect?"

"I have no idea," Sephiroth says and looks up. It could be anyone - or might not even be someone he knows! It could be someone from Earth!

"Well, that's just great," Genesis sighs. "Do you have any idea when, how, what we should look out for, anything?"

"Um," Sephiroth says and then shakes his head. "I think it might be best if I just come there."

"Oh, wonderful idea! That's just what this situation needs, you giving the scientists new ideas!" Genesis groans, muffled as though against a palm. "Just do me a favour: when you next lose it, feel free to finish Hojo off, alright?"

"I -"

Genesis hangs up on him.

… Rude.

Sephiroth lowers the phone, eyeing the scenery for a moment. Then he turns to his watchman who's pretending as if he didn't hear everything. "Oh, Tseng?"

"I don't know if i can arrange you a transport to Midgar at this short a notice," the Turk says, very bland and noncommittal. He's absolutely lying.

"Oh, you can't? I must've overestimated you Turks," Sephiroth says and jumps up to his feet, walking back over to him. "Isn't your job getting me back to Midgar as soon as possible?"

"Back to work, and only once we're sure you're not still unstable," Tseng says, wryly, giving him a very dubious look. "Something I'm still not so sure of."

"I had one mental breakdown, and I've been level since, haven't I?" Sephiroth cajoles him. "I promise I won't lose it again. And this will let you observe me more, in a different situation, reacting to stress!"

Tseng doesn't look convinced.

"I'm going to Midgar one way or another. At least like this you'll be in charge."

The Turk shakes his head. "I don't think that's a good enough reason to arrange intercontinental transport on a whim." Tseng says dryly. "If you feel fit for duty, I can certainly arrange some missions for you. Until further notice, you're stationed here."

Sephiroth gives him a look. "I'll fly under my own power if I have to," he threatens.

"Even over the ocean?" Tseng asks sarcastically, but pulls out his phone. "And what's your plan when you get to Midgar - walk up to Professor Hojo and just demand he releases a research specimen to you?"

"You know, that might not be a bad idea. Who knows, he might actually do it," Sephiroth says brightly and then, at Tseng's judgemental look, snorts. "I'm kidding. I'll think of something."

"... Very reassuring," Tseng shakes his head and punches in a number from memory. "You'll owe me, Sephiroth," he promises, putting the phone to his ear. "And don't think I didn't notice that you reacted to the name, rather than the status of this Cloud Strife."

Sephiroth smiles at him sweetly. "You're my favourite Turk, Tseng."

Tseng sighs, and gets him a flight to Midgar.

You've heard of Liuber, now get ready for...

#Fanfiction #ff7 #svsss #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #tseng of the turks #genesis rhapsodos

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inuhalfdemon · 2 months

Note

Alastor asks Rosie to be his fake girlfriend to convince Lucifer that he is a good boyfriend but it backfires when Rosie critiques his courting abilities. (didn't open the car door, no flowers, etc.)

-CrackRodent

Ok, I feel like I gotta go OOC for this one because my personal headcannon is Alastor would treat Rosie as a fucking QUEEN when or where ever they went out - platonic relationship or otherwise. BUT, for the sake of this prompt:

Alastor had it all figured out.

He had been pining for Lucifer for weeks now...and was ready to make his move.

Not in revealing his "true feelings" or in swallowing his Pride and actually approaching The King with his proposal of "something more".

No, no, no.

That just wasn't his way. He needed The King to come to him.

His way, was studying Lucifer from afar, doing a bit of light stalking and narrowing down the places that The King frequented and when. He did it so dedicatedly that he knew exactly when Lucifer would be passing by the food court, just on the edge of Cannibal Town, on his way to a donut shop named *Duck Donuts...

[Owned and franchised through LuLu World, it became so popular that there are shops found throughout all The Rings]

Alastor knew he had to win not only The King's attention but, his favor. Alastor needed Lucifer to see that he was a desirable partner and to do that he enlisted Rosie's help. Alastor asked her to pretend with him that she was his fake girlfriend, they would go out on a "date" about the food court and Lucifer would see what Alastor had to offer.

It went perfectly. The timing couldn't have been better and Lucifer kept throwing looks their way...sneaking passing glances, double taking over the shoulder once or twice, even openly staring at one point. Alastor watched him walk away, heading into the donut shop and wondered at just how long it would take before The King was throwing himself at The Radio Demon's feet.

"Alastor...THAT WAS THE WORST DATE I COULD HAVE EVER IMAGINED!" Rosie was stewing.

"Huh, what? What do you mean? He couldn't take his eyes off of us the entire time!"

"Because you never once had your eyes on me for a single moment! My God...Where to begin!? No flowers, no hand or arm-holding, not even a peck on the cheek!? You didn't open the car door, you nearly slammed a store door in my face and have you even noticed that I've broken a heel and have been gimping along here beside you now for 20 MINUTES!?" Rosie was telling him loudly, exasperated.

"Come now, it surely wasn't all that ba-"

Alastor stopped what he was saying, seeing that Lucifer was heading straight for him now, carrying a large box of donuts.

This was it.

He hurriedly straightened his suit jacket and smiled widely.

"Why, good afternoon, your majesty. To what do I owe the pleasure of-?"

"Oh, shut it you absolute arse." Lucifer snapped and Alastor's smile tightened.

Lucifer turned to Rosie.

"I know it's none of my business, but you look like you've had a terrible time. I got fresh donuts...and it's been an eon since I've had a Butterfinger McFleshy... would you care to join me?" Lucifer smiled at Rosie, offering her his arm.

Rosie sniffed, walking past Alastor without sparing him a glance and taking Lucifer's. "That sounds just lovely, your grace. Thank you!"

"Step aside, cretin." Lucifer narrowed his gaze on Alastor and the deer quickly side-stepped himself out of the way.

He watched Lucifer and Rosie leave, listening to Lucifer telling her: "You know, Rosie, you are a treasure. You deserve to be treasured. Don't let guys like that waste your time, you know, I've always had the hots for cannibalistic women..."

Alastor watched them another moment before thinking...that may have backfired.

*Duck Donuts is based off of a real donut shop in Idaho Falls, Idaho!!! My wife @whatswrongwithblue asked me to take her there one day when we were passing it "because Lucifer would LOVE it!". 😆

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer #hazbin hotel rosie #rosie hazbin hotel #my asks #my fanfic

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chiliechicken · 4 months

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 𝐊.┊★ you're seriously crying? Denki Kaminari x GN!Reader, Angst, OOC, Breakup, BF!Denki

Relationships were always so difficult. They were never decent and they were never fair for you. Relationships that you had always ended with your heart breaking into a million pieces once you've realized that it was never meant to be and that you only fooled yourself. Past boyfriends, past girlfriends, they all had left you disappointed and hurt.

You couldn't count how many times you had begged your exes to give you the bare minimum in a relationship. Stay loyal, engage in conversations, comfort one another, communicate through problems. The simple necessities in a relationship that somehow none of them gave a single damn to try.

It was frustrating. A lot of these relationships caused many of your problems now. You had trust issues due to exes cheating, inability to communicate due to them always shutting you down, trouble opening up because you forgot how to since they never listened to you, even the trouble of seeing worth within yourself since they always degraded you.

Then again, you still had a fault in all of it considering you never learned your lesson and stopped dating these types of people.

Even now, you haven't learned. Your current relationship is ass, sorry to say. At first, it was the best thing that has ever happened to you. Then it descends into the toxic waste you call the 3-month mark when true colors are finally revealed. It was always like this.

Right now, you were considering breaking up with your boyfriend for multiple reasons. He's been distant lately, refusing to engage in conversations with you and refusing to hangout with you whenever he's free. He's been prioritizing his friends more than you, leaving you feeling lonely and neglected.

"Denki, can you come over later?"

You asked your boyfriend as you walked up to him, interrupting his conversation with his classmates. He visibly frowns and looks at you, "I'm busy later." he replies in a whisper before looking back at his friends. "It's Saturday tomorrow. Can't you make time for me? It'll only be a few minutes, I swear." You plead with him, though he ignores you continues talking with his friends. "Denki?" You call out, no response. You sigh before quietly walking away in disappointment.

While you understand that he has the right to choose who he wants to be at the moment, you can't help but feel like he's been avoiding you a lot more recently. It kinda hurts you to be honest.

Even if you try to talk to him about whatever his interests were at the time, he still didn't want to chat with you for.. whatever the fuck reason he had that day. 'I'm busy', 'I'm not in the mood', 'I don't like explaining things', 'I don't like that anymore'. It's getting tiring having to watch him walk away from you to go to his friends and chat with them happily.

Sometimes whenever you try to grab his attention, he just either completely ignores you or gets mad at you for bothering him. He's always fine with other people bothering him, even when he's doing work. But when it comes to you, bothering him in any circumstance would just lead to him giving you a nasty look. He'll always tell you how you're being an attention-seeker, or that you're embarrassing him by pleading for a sliver of his time.

You were currently walking back to the dorms with your boyfriend and his friends, listening to their conversation and watching them laugh and joke around. You held onto his arm and walked alongside him with a smile on your face. Hanta, one of his closest friends, saw this and decided that he'd make a joke out of it. "Oh my gosh! Don't leave me out, love!" He dramatically exclaimed before snatching Denki's arm away from your hold, forcing you to step back.

Your boyfriend and his friends laughed at the scene and Denki looked at you with a huge grin on his face, but you didn't have the same pleasant expression. Other students looked at your group as you looked down at their interlocked arms. You looked back up at your boyfriend, wanting to slap off that fucking smirk off his face. But you resisted the urge to do so and stormed off.

Once you were back at your dorm, you managed to compose yourself and reflect on the situation. You didn't mind that their jokes were usually.. like that. You found it funny, actually. The mere thought of homies usually being affectionate with each other made you laugh. You weren't sure why today bothered you so much. It happened all the time, why was now different? You sighed and thought about it. Was it because it was physical? I mean, you got embarrassed, for sure. People watched it happen, they saw how you were just casted aside as your boyfriend and his friends laughed at you. Maybe it was the fact that Denki didn't even bother considering your feelings.

Gah! It was stressing you out. You let out a long breath before grabbing your phone and sending him a message about how you felt. It was only mature to at least tell him how much it bothered you, right? At least you wouldn't keep it suppressed and possibly make the situation worse for yourself.

You waited for an hour before he finally texted back. As you read the text, you couldn't help but feel your blood boil. 'You embarrassed me in front of my friends. Of course I'm mad at you.'

At this point, you weren't even sure you could be called his partner anymore because he's treating you so much like a loser of a friend who's desperate for any sort of human interaction.

He doesn't even text you anymore and you always have to be the one to make the first move to talk to him through a screen. Even then, he doesn't check your message at least an hour after you sent a text, waiting for a day or two to pass just to send you a dry message. He doesn't say 'I love you' anymore, he doesn't bother on comforting you whenever you're emotionally low, he doesn't play his favorite games with you anymore, he doesn't smile at you anymore...

Every time the two of you talk was always during arguments. He would always say how being in a relationship was stressing him out and how he wished he never liked you. It hurt. Real bad.

God, it was exhausting. You're putting all the effort into keeping this relationship alive while he just sits there and does nothing. Is this a rant? Yes.

As you lie on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, you were planning exactly how and when you were going to break it off with him. With your plan set in mind, you stood up and got ready for the day.

You ironed your uniform, took a shower, got dressed, and packed your book bag. Today you finally end your suffering as well as this putrid thing you call your relationship. You head to class and let the day pass quickly. You were nervous when school hours had ended. All day, you couldn't help but think about the possible outcomes from this.

What if he gets mad? What if he doesn't care? What if you cry? What if you suddenly back out?

Too late for that now. You shook your head and tried to clear your thoughts as you counted the steps it took to get to his classroom. Today would probably be the last time you'll be visiting this room for him, and you were happy to accept that.

You were nervous. So nervous. Your hands were shaking and you felt so lightheaded. Denki had never been that expressive towards you, so you were already expecting him to not even react one bit. That thought alone was driving you mad. It can't be like that, right? I mean, you've been together for.. months! He'd at least show a little emotion. You hoped.

Upon arrival at his classroom, you spot him sitting on his table as he talked with his classmate, Kyoka. You furrowed your brows at the sight, feeling jealousy beneath your feelings of resentment towards Denki. Kyoka's always been the better person between the two of you. That was your general opinion on her. She was better than you because she makes him laugh. She's the one he always talks to. She never made him upset. She always knew what to do with her feelings.

You were sure Denki liked her.

Shaking your head, you saw another one of their classmates, Mezo, and asked to excuse Denki. The boy nodded and called him over. As soon as he saw you his smile vanished, and it hit you hard. You waited to speak until he was in front of you, a few steps away and keeping his distance.

"Yeah..?"

You took a deep breath and ran your fingers through your hair, composing yourself before then looking him in the eyes. Oh, how you'll miss staring into them. They've lost their shine ever since you came around.

"Can we talk? In, uhm.. private."

Denki quirked his brow at the tone of your voice and crossed his arms. He hummed before grabbing your arm and leading you away from the classroom and towards the staircase. You instinctively pulled away as you got there, stepping back from him. You tried to maintain eye contact with him but eventually looked away, feeling yourself get nervous by the second.

"I don't think you're ready for a relationship yet. We're done."

He stared at you quietly with his expression slightly shocked. You waited for him to talk, to cry, to show some kind of response. None. You couldn't turn your face to see his. You wanted to but something within you advised you to not do so. You sigh, scratching your cheek while you spoke softly, "I-I'm sorry—"

"You can't be serious." Denki chuckled as he stepped closer to you, reaching out to hold your hand. "S-Stop.." you backed away and kept your hands to your chest, your brows furrowed in frustration. "Stop trying to touch me."

He looked at you as if you've lost your mind. He couldn't understand how you could break up with him. What did he do wrong? He gave you his all, what more did he lack? Why are you doing this to him?

Denki didn't even notice the salty tears streaming down his cheeks as he desperately tried to reach out to you, his hands shaking, "Y-You're kidding, right? You wouldn't actually say that, y-you... You can't leave me!" he stuttered out as he cupped your face in his hands, his voice cracking and his nervous grin faltering.

You slapped his hands away and pushed him back, glaring down at him, "Why are you crying..?" you asked with an almost venomous tone in your voice. You couldn't understand why he was crying. Isn't this what he wanted? With the way he was treating you, you were more than sure that he hated being in a relationship.

"Isn't this what you wanted? Why the fuck are you clinging to me?! Let me go!" you slapped him in the face when he got closer, the pain-filled sting on your palm lingering. You were starting to lash out. Confusion and hatred filled your mind as he continued to cry, begging for you to stay with him. Despite already hurting him both physically and emotionally, why does he still plead?

"P-Please!"

Why does he still want you to be with him?

"Let's talk this out. Don't you want that?"

Why won't he stop crying?

"[Name], please, please..."

Why couldn't you just walk away from this mess of a man?

You watched as he crumbled down to his knees, his hands holding onto your legs, begging for you to stay and forgive him, to continue being his.

"Y-You're the first person to accept me instead of rejecting me. You're the first one t-to like me!" Denki exclaimed, his nose and eyes red from crying and his body shaking.

You moved away from him and gripped your bag tighter. You were starting to feel lightheaded again as students in the hallway began to look at the two of you. You felt embarrassed this time instead of him. It felt new to you.

"What the hell is going on?"

The two of you snapped your heads to look where the voice came from. You saw his friends standing behind you, just a few feet away. They stared at you. They looked at you with expressions of confusion and anger.

"Denki! Dude, you good?" Mina exclaimed in concern, going over to pat his back. She knelt beside him and Denki immediately embraced her, crying into his shoulder. "Step back from him, that man doesn't need a hug. Get the fuck up, idiot. You're in the middle of a hallway." Katsuki spat harshly before gently kicking his legs, urging for him to stand up.

You watched the scene before you, feeling a sense of jealousy and betrayal. "You're such a fucking manchild, Kaminari. Grow a pair."

You stormed past his friends as you walked down the hallway and away from them. You could hear Denki yell out for you, but you ignored his words and continued to walk away. You felt a bit bad, leaving him there crying. But at the same time you felt so relieved finally being able to get out of that relationship.

★┊this is my longest oneshot because it's quite literally a rant about my ex and how I felt so shitty with him because he treated me so shittily(?)

not one of my best because of how OFF CHARACTER Denki is but I don't know who else to use because my ex acts a lot like him; social, jokester, flirty, and really friend-oriented

this is basically how shit went down except uhh, he didn't really cry and beg for me to stay, he just didn't say or do anything, just nodded and let me leave which hurts like bro say something, you ain't a statue

so uh yeah, sorry for the long hiatus, at least school is done and I can go back to posting, thanks yall

#bnha #mha #mha x reader #mha x you #x reader #class 1a x reader #class 1a #denki kaminari #denki x reader #mha denki #bnha denki #angst #breakup #ooc #mha angst

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that-one-p00k1e · 9 months

Text

Familiarity

Pairing: fem!reader x Muichiro

TW: none, OOC overall, fluff^^

Note: reader is 5 days younger than Mui

“Tokito-Sama, please hold still.”

“Your eyes look familiar.” Muichiro tilted his head again as you let out a light sigh, continuing to gently dab disinfectant on his cheek.

Logically, when a person enrolls as a demon hunter, their title would be a demon hunter itself. The same goes for a kakushi. They both have their own different roles to play, as well as different duties to fulfill. You, on the other hand, decided to take both responsibilities of both titles upon yourself.

People would think of that as an absurd decision. A tiring one, too. But the agonizing boredom that engulfs when no mission was around, made the idea of being an occasional kakushi not seem to be a bad option. Which explains your current position right now; face to face with the Mist Pillar, tending to his wounds from his recent mission.

“Have we met before?” his deep yet soft voice spoke up with curiosity.

“No, we have not, Tokito-Sama.” Your tone was put up with formality; keeping composure despite the untruth that came with it. As a demon hunter, you've been acquainted with Muichiro more than once. Either by accidentally bumping into him, walking past him during his cloud gazing sessions, or doing a friendly gesture by sharing food with him once in a while.

Although he was in a way higher rank than you; in terms of age, you were only 5 days younger than him. Thus, you wanted to take the opportunity to befriend someone of your age, considering most demon hunters as of now were around 16 and older. Moreover, you were bewildered the moment you found out about a Pillar that was only 14 years of age.

Despite the interactions you've made with him as a demon slayer, you never dared to do the same when taking your secondary role as a kakushi.

“Were you the one who gave me furofuki daikon?” he questioned further as he looked at you tending to his arm.

“I'm afraid I could not recall doing such a deed. You must’ve mistaken me for another kakushi, Tokito-Sama,” you replied calmly as you kept focused on healing his arm.

“No, not a kakushi. You were a demon hunter.”

And with that, your heart skipped a beat.

A kakushi have always had to keep their identities undercover; wearing a beanie-like hat to cover their head and hair, and a mask covering the back of their heads and half of their faces. Of course, wearing those complete attributes already made you feel safe.

But never did you expect Muichiro– a young boy with short term memory loss –out of all people, could easily suspect your true identity despite it being hidden.

“I don't understand what you mean, Tokito-Sama. I am a kakushi, not a demon slayer,” you continued further as you tried to keep composed and unfazed; a contrast to the rapid increase of your heart beat you felt inside.

“Your wounds are fully taken care of. There’ll be tea brought here for you soon, I shall take my leave.” You stood up from your kneeling position and quickly bowed your head, turning away to head for the exit before a hand suddenly pulled you down; bringing your eyes to meet with a pair of mint green ones.

In a matter of seconds, another hand tugged at the hem of your mask; pulling down the whole thing along with the hat as it revealed your whole face.

“I was right,” was all the culprit could mutter as he stared blankly into your eyes; only a few centimeters of distance between your faces. Immediately, pink sprawled across your face as you pulled back and looked away in embarrassment.

“Tokito-Sama, please refrain from doing such actions. And h-how come you remember me? No offense, but usually you easily forget things.”

“You just seem… familiar.” His words piqued your curiosity as you took a glance at his stoic face.

“Familiar? What do you mean?”

The young Pillar then raised his hand, pointing a finger at you.

“You… You keep showing up in my head.”

“... What?” you questioned as your brows furrowed in deeper confusion.

“Your face. It shows up in my head… a lot.”

That face of yours that once had a pink-tinted surface, rose to a warmer shade of red.

“In a good way or a bad way?"

“Don't know… What was your name again?”

“It- It’s not important. You should inform that issue to Kocho-Sama, maybe she'll know what's wrong,” you quickly spoke due to being flustered, as you immediately left and brushed it all off; not wanting to get your hopes up further.

Muichiro was then left alone with his thoughts; considering to talk to the Insect Pillar.

Bonus:

“My, my. Stuck in your head, you say?” a soft and gentle voice spoke in amusement.

The youngster then replied with a nod, not seeming to be expressing anything apparent.

“Let's see. How does your stomach feel when you see her in your head?”

“It feels… weird.. Like I'm getting tickled on the inside,” he stated with a blank expression.

“Well would you look at that. I think we'd better talk this out with Kanroji-San,” the woman with a purple butterfly hairpin stated with the same remaining smile; leading the young boy to head to the Love Pillar's residence.

#help what am i doing #what is this #yes i am new here if it wasnt obvious #kny #kny x reader #muichiro #muimypookie #muixreader #muichiro fluff #muichiro x reader #kny fic #tokito x reader #kny fanfic #kny fluff #muichiro tokito #demon slayer tokito #tokitou muichirou #pookie

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seventh-district · 7 months

Text

This Evening I Will Not Forget

“I jumped into the fray with the intention of helping you and next thing I know I’m standing there uselessly watching the first person I’ve dared to love in two fucking centuries take a warhammer to the stomach!”

He turned to face you as he emphasized his last few words, now standing all but frozen in the middle of the tent with his hands held out, gesturing toward your injury. You’re about to pipe up and insist that it wasn’t his fault, but the words dissipate before you can speak them as another part of his sentence echoes in your mind. You repeat them back to him in a disbelieving whisper.

“The first person you’ve dared to love?”

His tense, frustrated expression instantly falls flat.

“I didn’t say that.”

An injury and an argument lead to you revealing far more of yourself and your unspoken past to Astarion than you planned to.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,292

Content Warnings: [injured Reader] (not graphically described, just mentions of bruising and pain) [mean/avoidant Astarion] [argument] [mentions of Reader's scars & non-specific allusion to their Tragic Backstory™] [vulnerability] [possibly (probably) OOC Astarion]

Author's Note: This is an excerpt from my fic An Evening I Will Not Forget, but can be read as a standalone one-shot. The only context I think you'll need is that this fic is written in the style of reliving memories, hence certain lines will mention Reader "looking back" on them.

“What's important is this evenin' I will not forget

Purple, blue, orange, red

These colors of feelin'

Give me love, I'll put my heart in it”

You’re lying on your back as cold, pale fingers press against your sensitive skin, pulling a small pained sound of protest from you.

“Sorry, sorry…”

Astarion retracts his hand, fingers curling into his palm. You reach out to catch hold of him before he can completely pull away, your voice tense with pain as you reassure him.

“No- no... don’t be. I know you’re just trying to help.”

You bring his hand back toward your exposed stomach, his fingers still coated in the healing salve he was attempting to apply. His hand hovers hesitantly over your bruised and broken skin.

“Yes, but- I’m not very good at it.”

Your thumb brushes across his wrist as you hold onto him, suspecting that if you let go he’d just retract his hand again.

“What do you mean? Of course you are.”

He shakes his head insistently.

“No. It seems like every time I try to help you, I just end up hurting you even more…”

Confusion is clear both in your voice and on your features.

“That’s not… that’s not true, Star.”

You tug lightly on his wrist to get his attention, your voice soft as you ask him a question.

“Is this about what happened today?”

He pulls his hand out of your loose hold and you let him, watching as he stands and begins pacing circles inside the tent.

“No, I’m in a bad mood because the weather isn’t quite to my liking- of course it’s about what happened today!”

The initial sarcasm in his voice gave way to frustration near the end. Not with you, but with himself.

Now that you’re observing this memory from his perspective as well, you can see the moment you sustained the injury playing over and over again in his mind, working him up further and further.

“The first person you’ve dared to love?”

His tense, frustrated expression instantly falls flat.

“I didn’t say that.”

Your eyes widen, nodding slowly.

“Yes you did.”

Nervous laughter escapes him as he takes a step back, distancing himself from you.

“No, no, you… you must have heard me wrong. I didn’t- I was talking about helping you, I didn’t say anything about love, what’s love got to do with this?”

You hate to push him, fearing he may bolt like a frightened deer if you double down, but you know what you heard. It wasn’t like the first time you heard him say it, slapping it on the end of a string of pick-up lines, the word obviously carrying no weight, no truth. No, this second time was different.

“I think it has more to do with it than you’re willing to admit, Astarion.”

He falters, one of very few times you’ve seen him truly caught off guard, truly speechless.

“Those are…” He searches for something to say that’ll cover up the truth that’d just spilled out of him. “...bold words for someone currently bedridden.”

You bark a laugh and it turns into a low groan at the pain it causes to flare in your lower ribs.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

If he’s being honest, even he’s hardly sure what he meant. He’s truly floundering here, for the first time in… forever.

“It means… it means that I can walk away from this conversation right now and there isn’t anything you can do about it.”

Stooping so low as to resort to childish threats, you can feel the embarrassment radiating off of him.

“Would you truly be so cruel as to do that to me right now? Walking away, leaving me vulnerable and confused just because you can’t handle the truth?”

You’re pushing your luck too far and you know it. Surprisingly, though, he takes one step toward you, moving away from the exit.

“Cruel?! If you think that me simply walking away from you counts as cruelty then you truly haven’t suffered enough.”

His words are suddenly laced with venom and they hit you harder than the barbarian’s warhammer did today, leaving a chill colder than ice in their wake.

He seems to actually hear what he said a moment later, the careless words ricocheting off of you and coming back to slam into his chest, nearly knocking him over and crushing him beneath the weight of his sudden regret.

A furious wave of heat and adrenaline courses through you as you bolt upright in the makeshift bed, ignoring the sharp pain that flares inside you in response to the sudden movement. Reaching down and grabbing at the tail of your shirt where it’s bunched up around your ribs, you hastily yank it up over your shoulders and head, tugging your arms out of the long sleeves and furiously tossing the garment directly at him.

“Suffered enough? You think I haven’t fucking suffered enough, Astarion? You don’t know the goddamned HALF of it! You’re not the only one in this tent that’s been abused, you know?! Oh wait- that’s right- you DON’T!”

Your voice cracks under the pressure of volume and emotion as fat, hot, angry tears roll down your cheeks against your will. Astarion stands there like a deer in the headlamps, your balled-up shirt having hit him softly in the chest and fallen anticlimactically to the ground. As his eyes rake over your heavily scarred arms, the angry purple markings showing no signs of lessening as they curl over your shoulders and disappear behind your back, it suddenly starts to make a lot more sense why you were so damned insistent that no one remove your clothes while treating your wounds earlier.

Shadowheart rips open the flap covering the tent’s exit, a very concerned looking Halsin ducking down behind her. Part of you is grateful that at least not everyone was currently at camp to witness your sudden breakdown, but even the sight of the two of them is enough to have you panicking. Pulling at the blanket gathered around your waist and shouting in an admittedly very childish, vulnerable voice, you demand they leave as you choke on your tears, hastily covering yourself up.

“GET OUT!”

Unsure of what to do, Shadowheart surveys the scene before her with a critical eye before sighing, seeming to understand that the best thing they can do right now is give you back your privacy. She knows that if you needed her, you would call. Turning to shoo away the concerned man behind her, she lowers the flap back down with a quiet murmur of “They’re… fine. Let’s give them some space.”

Astarion finally breaks free from where he’s been stood like a statue, slowly moving toward the exit as well with an unsure glance in your direction.

You bury your face into the fabric clutched in your hands, shouting into it in exasperation.

“NOT YOU!”

He freezes, no longer knowing what to do but wishing that the ground would simply open up and swallow him whole. Back under six feet of soil feels like where he deserves to be after what he just said to you.

He racks his brain for the right thing to say, coming up empty handed and eventually deciding that honesty might just be the best policy in this situation.

“I… I’m going to level with you. I have no idea what to do right now.”

In spite of it all, you laugh, a broken sound that cuts through your tears, causing you to cough, then the strain from coughing causes more tears to fall. Though he can’t admit it, Astarion knows right then and there that he never wants to hear or see you in such pain ever again.

“I… I’ll level with you, too.”

You pull the blanket away from your face, looking at him with watery, bloodshot eyes.

“...Neither do I.”

You glance down at the floor, attempting a deep breath and failing spectacularly as another broken sob escapes you. Dropping the fabric still held up against your chest, you press your hands down into the bedroll beneath you in an attempt to support your upper body and ease the pain radiating through your core.

Astarion takes one cautious step toward you, his unsteady voice the only thing filling the silence aside from your soft crying.

“I need… to apologize. For everything.”

You shake your head in disagreement and clear your throat.

“No, you don’t. You’ve been through a worse hell than I could ever even imagine. It’s… stupid of me to try and compete with you in that regard.”

He takes another step forward, insistent.

“That isn’t true. You have… clearly been through your own hell, and it was… stupid of me to assume you hadn’t. Even worse of me to try and downplay my avoidance by… holding my past over you like some sort of… like some sort of excuse.”

You shift your weight to the side in order to lift one hand, reaching out to grab at one of the small cloths stacked beside your bed. Astarion sees you struggling to reach them and rushes forward, closing what remained of the space he’d put between you as he lifted a cloth and handed it to you without a word.

You bring it to your face, pressing it to your eyes in a useless attempt to dry the tears that were still falling. Then, moving it down to blow your running nose into the cloth before you could make an even bigger mess of yourself than you already were. Finally able to breathe a bit better, you counter his point.

“Yeah, but- the thing is, I feel like you kinda have the right to do that, given all that you’ve survived. Of course you’d see the pain of walking away from a conversation as trivial when you compare it to… literally anything you’ve experienced.”

Now that he’s returned to your side, Astarion’s head angles to drag his gaze across your exposed back, finally seeing the full extent of your scarring as you lean forward a bit to toss the dirty cloth to the floor of the tent next to your shirt. Nausea swirls deep in the pit of his stomach as the upsetting sight of your marred skin burns itself into his memory.

“I believe… that’s called a double standard.”

You throw him a sad, confused look, and he explains.

“You’re trying to give me some sort of… free pass based on what I’ve been through, but I’ve never once seen you give yourself that same sort of leniency.”

“That’s… not the same thing.”

“I’m not saying we’ve been through the exact same thing, but…” He gestures vaguely to the entirety of you. “...clearly you’ve gone through something. If I get to lord my baggage over you then surely you’re permitted to do the same.”

Your tears begin to slow as you consider his words.

“I don’t… want to do that, though. Obviously. That’s why I haven’t told you. I don’t want you giving me special treatment because ‘poor pitiful me’ has gone through some shit. I don’t think that excuses any of my current behavior.”

The silence hangs in the air for a moment before he gently drives his point home.

“Yet you think it excuses mine?”

Hm.

“...okay. I guess you’ve got me there.”

You sigh, body beginning to feel heavier than lead as the sudden rush of emotion and adrenaline fades from you. You ease yourself back down, hissing at the pain as your bruised ribs and torn muscles protest the stretch and movement. Astarion wants to assist but truth be told he’s afraid to touch you. So, he watches on helplessly, still berating himself in the back of his mind for the role he feels he played in you sustaining today’s injuries to begin with.

Once you’re laid down and relaxing into the bedroll as much as you can, you make no effort to cover yourself up, not caring how long his eyes wander across your exposed skin. Silently, he tries to read the countless jagged lines and dots carved into you like they may eventually come together to paint him a picture of all that’s happened to you.

No picture anyone could paint would ever do the pain justice.

He settles himself down next to you as your tired eyes stare a hole in the ceiling of the tent.

“You do not have to accept my apology, but I will not rescind it. I do have the wherewithal to know that what I said was wrong. It was cruel. I…”

He exhales, the heavy sound full of the weight carried by a man that hasn’t been this honest with anyone in centuries.

“I… tossed aside any consideration for how you may have felt, letting myself get lost in my own… stupid fears. It wasn’t right. It certainly wasn’t fair to you.”

Your head lolls to the side, appraising him with lidded eyes.

“You know… you’re surprisingly self-aware when you aren’t being a pompous ass.”

Your words draw a surprised laugh out of him and after a moment of consideration, he nods slowly in reluctant agreement.

“I’ve… had a lot of time to sit with myself and think. Eventually you get to know yourself pretty well.”

He looks down, idly picking at the loose threads on the edge of your well-worn bedroll.

“All of that self-awareness apparently doesn’t make me any kinder though, does it?”

It’s a rhetorical question but you answer it all the same.

“I still stand by my statement that you have good reason to be so… abrasive. Just being aware of those reasons doesn’t mean that they suddenly don’t affect you any more.”

Your hand raises from where it laid lifelessly beside you, reaching over for Astarion’s and pulling his anxious fingers away from attacking the weak points of your bedroll. You don’t release his hand once you direct him away from the loose threads, holding onto him as you continue to muse aloud.

“I think that a lot of us are just doing our best to not allow our past to affect our present, to varying degrees of success. Sometimes we fail. But- I believe all that truly matters at the end of the day is that we’re trying, though. … And, Astarion?”

“...yes?”

“I can tell that you’re trying.” You squeeze his hand. “And I accept your apology.”

You take a slow, deep breath, and listen as his voice comes out softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“Thank you.”

You nod your head in a silent “of course,” laying in thoughtful silence for a few moments before speaking.

“I… feel like I should apologize as well.”

Now it’s Astarion’s turn to be confused.

“What ever for?”

You weakly raise your other hand to gesture all around the room.

“Just… this. The scene I just made. Heaping all of this emotion onto you when you were obviously already struggling with how you felt about me in the first place.”

He doesn’t take long to respond.

“No, I don’t think you need to apologize for that. This… seems like it really needed to come out. I could never be upset with you for sharing it with me, regardless of the… unideal circumstances.”

He then seems to realize something.

“I hope you don’t regret it, though. Sharing this with me.”

You shake your head decisively and the motion causes your impending headache to flare.

“No. I don’t. I- uh- you were going to find out eventually with how… close we’ve been getting. I just couldn’t find the right time to tell you- or- well, show you, I guess.”

Your hand releases its hold on his, reaching up to carefully brush your fingertips across the mottled skin of your stomach. You raise your head up, angling it down to look down at the injury with a thoughtful gaze. Glancing over toward Astarion, you ask him another question.

“Can you hand me that salve from earlier? It never really… got fully applied.”

He immediately reaches behind him for the container, but holds it in his grasp as he stumbles over his words.

“I- I, uhm… wouldn’t mind trying again, if you want me to. If you don’t I’ll understand, though. Just… want you to know that the offer is still there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, but you’re completely willing to let him do it.

“Oh… sure? You’re welcome to, I just… assumed you wouldn’t want to.”

He holds his other hand up and only then do you realize he never wiped the salve from his skin.

“These fingers are numb already anyways, might as well spare yours the same fate.”

You vaguely remember Shadowheart’s words as she passed Astarion the container earlier, cautioning him to not leave it for long on any skin he didn’t want to temporarily lose feeling in.

“But hey, at least we know that it works now, right?”

You give him a tired smile, appreciative of his efforts to lighten the mood.

“Mmm, I suppose so.”

You pull your hand away, exposing your injury to him once again.

“Have at me, then.”

With your permission, he sweeps a scoop of the healing and numbing mixture across your sensitive skin and you notice how feather-light he keeps his touch this time. Looking down to observe his work, you note how the messy mixture of the massive bruise’s dark colors stand in stark contrast to his pale white fingers that brush across it.

A thought slips out of your exhausted mind.

“Pretty…”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, unsure if he heard you correctly.

“Hmm?”

“The colors. They’re pretty. Purple, blue, even kinda orange…”

You look away from the bruise and up into his ruby eyes.

“...red.”

He’s silent for a moment, his hand pausing its gentle motion. Then he scoffs, looking away and internally dismissing your words as the ramblings of a tired mind.

“You’re talking nonsense, dear.”

Your filter has all but completely vanished, feeling almost drunk on your current mixture of exhaustion and relief after such a hell of a day. Sleep beckons you and your eyes fall closed as the pain in your ribs fades, on its way to being numbed out by the potent salve. A hazy thought surfaces, reminding you to give your thanks to Shadowheart when you next awake. For now though, you relax, no thought given to the words that slip from your lips.

“But you love my nonsense, don’t you…”

His heart feels like it jumps in his chest as he hears you so casually speak the word that he’s still reluctant to even think to himself, let alone say aloud. As he finishes massaging the salve into your skin and pulls his hand back, his eyes pass over the expansive unspoken history of pain evidently etched into your skin, up across your chest, over your shoulders and down your arms. He figures the least he can do is answer you honestly before sleep pulls you under.

“I… suppose I do.”

End Notes: If you'd like to read my commentary on this scene, you can find that in the end notes of Ch. 5 on AO3 - right here!

Header Image Source: x

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #my writing #eheheee my attempt at baiting more people into reading my fic by posting parts of it as oneshots on Tumblr has begun /hj #i'm only half joking tho cause yeah while getting more eyes on the full fic would be a nice side effect if the oneshots do well on here #i also just want to give my favorite parts of the fic that i feel can stand on their own a chance at a second life here on Tumblr #regardless of whether that brings more people in to read the full fic or not

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