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storiesoflilies · 13 days ago

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a touch of salt, a taste of flesh

synopsis: in which toji cannot decide whether or not he wants to eat or love the pretty little human he saved from drowning. w.c: 2k.

pairing: merman!toji fushiguro x f!reader.

warnings: mature themes! mentions of gore and blood, mentions of drowning, open ending. sfw but MDNI!

a/n: if you saw me post this yesterday no you didn’t. please don’t let the fic flop this time lol. heavily inspired by this delicious art!

divider / ao3

the ocean loved to keep her secrets.

she coveted every single one of them, for each was a precious pearl of knowledge about her soul. to know even a single one was to be doomed to a life of fear, to be at the mercy of her passing whims, because you could never tell when she would decide to punish you for it and bash you into pieces.

she didn’t think she knew anything at all about the ocean.

but here she was, coughing up salty secrets trapped deep within her lungs.

again.

while a pair of green eyes watched her.

they were always watching her.

“why do you continue to tempt the sea?” he purred, a slight smirk touching his lips. “little human”

little human.

because that is what she was, and what he most certainly wasn't.

it was in the way he smiled at her – cold and dark and cruel as the smothering sea that had tried snuff her out, curling around her throat like tendrils of seaweed.

a dark, shark-like tail rose from the sea as the creature tilted his head, wet strands of his black hair dripping to the side. he winced every time she coughed some more, as if it were far too loud for his liking, and looked down at her like she was a grain of sand stuck between his scales.

she probably was nothing.

especially not to something like him.

“do you really need to know what it’s like when death creeps up on you?” he continued, dismissively waving a clawed, scaly hand at her. “i could always just tell you how it feels.”

she sucked in a shaky, pathetic heaving breath of sea air into her chest, still gasping and sputtering onto the white-washed sand. the coarse grains scratched her palms painfully, and she tried to calm herself, breathing in and out with the rise and fall of the tide.

his eyes narrowed playfully, thin slits of green in the night. “there, there. you’ll be just fine.”

she didn’t feel like she would be.

there was nothing comforting about him at all.

he was a predator.

his teeth were just that little bit longer than they should be – sharper, pearlescent, and flashing dangerously in the silver moonlight. even though this was the third time he has saved her from succumbing to the depths of the sea, she still didn’t know why he had saved her, or why he still continued to.

but it had to be for something.

or else, he wouldn’t have saved her the first time. he would have let her fingers disappear beneath the waves forever, let her sink to the bottom of the darkest ocean. he wouldn’t keep on watching her from the shoreline, circling round and round the island like a shark drawing ever closer to its prey.

waiting to strike, ready to bite.

“why?” was all she could muster in a hoarse voice, sand tickling her throat.

“why?” he repeated, that saccharine smirk playing on his lips again. “why what, little human?”

“why do you keep on singing?”

the green slits widened a fraction, and he started to laugh. her heart hammered against her chest, and she was afraid she might have said the wrong thing.

“is that what you would call it?” he asked incredulously, a sprinkle of offense creeping into his voice. “singing?”

she gulped.

what else would she call it?

that was what it sounded like to her. she would sit beneath a gnarled tree at the cliffs’ edge, where the earth dipped sharply towards the sea, its rocky face curled over the sea like an old man’s wrinkly hand. there, she would listen, trying to make sense of the strange words wafting from his tongue in the salty breeze.

she would’ve started a war for him.

would have shoved her arms into the bodies of the bent and broken, rummage through all their bones to offer him their still-warm, unbeating hearts.

but there was something in his haunting baritone that made her want to cry, to surrender to the sea, naively believing she could somehow help save him from his own restlessness. to block out the echoing memories that, in that moment, were blurred together and she wasn’t sure if they belonged to him or her.

there had to be some kind of magic involved.

because tonight was the third time she had heard his haunting song.

and the third time she had mindlessly wandered into the arms of the ocean and her false welcome, full of promises she had no intention of keeping.

despite knowing full well that she couldn’t even swim.

his laughter died with the wind, a low, lilting hum lingering at the edge of his words. “maybe you shouldn’t be listening so closely,” he murmured, his eyes heavy with something that looked like hunger. “the sea doesn’t sing for humans.”

he drifted a touch closer to where she was lying, slicing through the shallow water like a blade. she sat up straight, digging her heels into the sand to scramble away from him.

“and yet, here you are,” he said, amusement curling his lips. “again.”

she licked the salt from the cracks in her lips, stuttering, “i-i don’t k-know why.”

maybe it was her obvious helplessness, or perhaps he could smell her hopeless desperation like rotting flesh, but his eyes softened.

“it’s the call for my…” he trailed off, smacking his lips as he searched for the word. “heart.”

he said the it disdainfully, like he didn’t really want to believe he had a heart at all. she couldn’t imagine that he had one either, or that it wanted for anything beyond his most base desires.

flesh and blood.

“your heart?” she repeated in disbelief.

he glowered at her, his tail flicking through the water in annoyance. “yes,” he said, adding much more quietly. “and it seems i’ve found it.”

run away, now.

“w-what?” she sputtered, salt-coated sand flying to the back of her throat.

the creature grinned widely, mischievous fangs glinting, “oh, you know, little human.”

she did know; she just didn’t want to admit it.

“i-i never– i don’t understand.”

“no? then why do you keep trying to swim to me?”

she didn’t know what to say to that.

it was silent for a long time, the sweeping sea moving backwards and forwards like the ebb of time between them. she could see more of him too, even though she knew better than to look.

and he was beautiful.

his tail was longer than she thought, silky smooth and gray like a shark’s was, marred with pink scars and rakes as deep and painful as the ocean. it curled high above his head as he lay belly down in the sand.

oh, but his eyes.

they were a chest of shimmering emeralds, locked onto her every minuscule movement. but his pupils were infinite, a black hole of mysteries and knowledge of ancients city that had come and gone, of seas of blood and red misery.

yet, he was here, on this unremarkable beach at the edge of the world, calling for his heart – for her.

and she’d somehow answered.

“what’s your name?” she blurted out.

there was a strange rumble in his chest before he replied with, “toji.”

toji.

it reminded her of the cold kiss of winter, the inevitable conquest of snow over the trees and blooms, covering everything in its white death. he belonged to the ice-covered seas of the north and south, definitely not from places where the sun and joy pierced through the waves.

there was no doubt that toji was king of those icy seas, reigning supreme over the darkness found within the kelp forests of the deep trenches.

“how old are you?”

toji tilted his head curiously, completely silent as he pondered and searched for an answer.

“how long have humans sailed the seas?”

how very lonely.

she knew she shouldn’t feel anything for toji, least of all feel sorry for him. but here she was, itching for him to take her hand and drag her into the depths he called home. maybe that was what his song meant; perhaps all he wanted was someone to share in ruling over the ice and sea.

how ironic that she couldn’t even swim.

he drummed his sharp fingers against a closed fist, slow and irritatingly suspenseful. “you’re bleeding, you know?”

she frowned and looked down at both sides of her palms, between her pruned fingers, and then further down.

oh.

there was a small stream of blood beneath her left foot, trailing toward the sea before being swept away with the tide.

straight towards toji.

that was when she saw the dangerous twitch dancing on his scarred lip, and she realized just how long he had been holding back for.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered breathlessly, and she truly meant it.

toji’s eyes narrowed again, but there was a spark of anger in them this time. “don’t apologize,” he hissed. “never– not for that.”

for that, for bleeding.

would a shark thank her for covering up a wound?

she didn’t think so.

toji asked for her name, and she offered it freely, willingly. he repeated it loudly, the deep baritone of his voice starting to sing her name in an increasingly agitated-sounding tone.

mine, mine, mine.

her name wasn’t her own anymore.

he was looking at her now, like he wanted to slice open her chest, pull out her heart, and play with the strings that made it beat. to shove his fingers into her aorta to say that he had been really inside her – his – heart.

mine, mine, mine.

and then, his cold hand was gripping her ankle, claws lightly digging into her skin.

she let out a yelp as toji dragged her toward him, the sea rushing over her cheeks and into her ears. he was on top of her, the wetness of the sea bleeding into her, his weight heavy and suffocating, pushing every bit of air out of her fragile lungs. his fingers dug deep into her thighs, just about to pierce through the plush skin.

she beat against the hardness of his chest, “t- cough! toji, please, stop.”

but he wasn’t really there, caught somewhere between the whispering blood ocean and the misty memories haunting his soul.

a pearly tear slipped down his cheek.

“i ca-ah! can’t breath.”

the same deep sound rumbled from his chest, and toji lifted himself up from her ever so slightly. she sucked in great gasping breaths, her eyes teary and blurry as she looked at him through lashes laden with salt.

another milky tear fell from his left eye and dripped down onto the curve of her cheek.

“would you slip away?” toji whispered, his voice rolling over her like the tide, but he sounded far, far away. “into the sea, for me.”

she didn’t want to.

but then he started to hum low and sweet, his wet lips pressed to her neck, and she was ready to.

she could see through the mist and blood now, far above the clouds and the sky and the sun breaking through the horizon. her heart was burning with salt and secrets – secrets she didn’t know she possessed.

until now.

that she was one with the sea, and maybe always had been. so, she didn’t mind all that toji was slowly pulling her towards the depths instead of away from them.

a flash of brilliant green lit up the sky.

was it toji’s eyes or a farewell from the sorrowful sun?

she didn’t know; she didn’t care anymore.

she was his to keep now.

ི♡࿐

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji fic #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen au #jjk au #jjk fanfic

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 10 months ago

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the diamond

lilac, chapter seventeen

a/n: idk if I should say i'm sorry or you're welcome. i guess it depends on what kind of day you're having as you read this.

summary: “did you really think a little bit of paperwork could stop me? Could stop us from being together?”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, dark, angst, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, kidnapping, crying, violence, cliffhanger

word count: 1717

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You didn’t recognise the opulent apartment you now found yourself in. Not that it really came as a shock. You properly only knew of a fraction of the properties Preston’s family owned.

With gilded details and tall windows, you did however recognise the view as the familiar twinkle of the New York City skyline sparkled back at you.

Scarcely breathing, you didn’t dare to even shift as you sat on the edge of a bed, its red silk sheets burned the nerves across your legs and worsened the nauseating sting at the back of your throat.

Turning back to face you, Preston stepped up close and said, “Let’s get this off of you, shall we?” before he slowly peeled off the tape covering your lips, but as soon as he had rid you of it, you reeled forward slightly and spat directly in his face. The angry dollop slid down across his forehead and over the still freshly pink scar that split his dark eyebrow. But, to your horror, instead of getting angry, all your action did was conjure a dark chuckle deep within his chest, “I missed you too, doll,” you watched him reach up and wipe the saliva away before his fingers drifted down into his pocket and produced a switchblade that he promptly popped out with a flourish. Sucking in a sharp breath, you braced yourself, expecting for him to strike, only he didn’t. The knife instead sliced the tape constricting your ankles and then through the ones at your wrists, “there,” he shot you a bone-chilling smile, “much better.”

Glaring back at him, almost in disbelief at the measures he’d evidently be willing to take, you shuddered, “I-I have a restraining order against you.”

“You do,” he nodded matter a factly, “why, did you really think a little bit of paperwork could stop me? Could stop us from being together?” your frame jumped jaggedly as you felt his touch slither up your sides, “we’re soulmates, you and I. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can keep us apart,” he breathed as he leaned in closer and pressed his lips to yours. Staying as still as you possibly could, the sting of tears rolled down your cheeks as he soon leaned back, a sour look now tainting his features, “kiss me back,” he growled through gritted teeth, “we haven’t seen each other in two months, so kiss me the fuck back. Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

Choking down a sob, you willed your lips to meet his again, trembling fretfully as you gave him what he wanted, the forceful feeling of his tongue invading your mouth forced a petrified whimper to escape your lungs, one that he mistook as praise as one of his ring adorned hands came up to clasp your jaw possessively.

When he finally pulled back, leaving just a sliver of air between you, a question left your quivering lips.

“Preston, where are we?”

“Nowhere important,” his dark eyes trailed one of the tears rolling down your face, “don’t worry, this is just temporary till the morning. Gosh, you look so beautiful when you cry…”

“W-what’s happening in the morning? Where are we going?”

“To this little island my dad’s got in the Caribbean. You’ll like it, trust me. It’s got some of the bluest water you’ve ever seen,” he smirked before briefly turning his head to the rough-looking man posted by the door as a guard, “hey, go fetch me a drink.”

“Right away, sir,” he complied.

As Preston turned his gaze back to you, his head began to shake as it washed down the length of your body, “what is this dress you’re wearing? You know I hate you in green on you.”

“I-I’m sorry. I could go change if you–”

But your sentence crumbled into nothing as you felt the cold tip of his knife trail up your leg, “oh, there’s no need for that, doll,” the blade scraped over your skin, up the slit where your wrap dress had parted like a curtain over your thigh, never hard enough to actually draw blood, but just enough to rip up a layer or two of flesh. He continued after he reached the top of your thigh, dragging it up your velvet dress till he slipped it under the knot that held your garment closed, and cut clean through it. The slash didn’t automatically cause the dark green fabric to fall open completely, but Preston didn’t hesitate to unwrap you like a birthday present, “damn..” he groaned as he pushed the dress open, revealing your lack of undergarments beneath, “would you look at that… you’re not wearing anything underneath this… ” you squeezed your eyes shut as he then grazed the tip of his knife over your skin, from the peak of your breast to low down on your stomach, he trailed it like he would his wicked tongue, in some sick and twisted up way caressing you with the weapon, “tell me, doll, just why aren’t you? I’d love to think this is all for me, but you didn’t know we’d be reunited tonight, so who is it for?” rage gradually began to harshen his tone, “who?” as you found yourself unable to form any words at all, “is it that guy? What did you call him… Frank? Have you been whoring yourself out to Frank? Not wearing anything underneath your dresses and making it easy for him to just slide in and use what belongs to me?” nicking the curve of your waist, he then shook you as he barked, “answer me!” successfully drawing a shrill scream from your lungs as you squeezed your eyes shut even tighter.

Just as you feared he’d give you more than just a shy scratch, the double doors to the bedroom creaked open and in stepped the guard. Without another word, Preston’s presence disappeared.

Cautiously fluttering your bloodshot eyes open once more, you saw as the guard settled back into his place and Preston clutched a stout crystal glass, hastily downing the dark amber liquid before slamming it onto a side table. Trying your best to cover yourself back up, you watched as Preston folded up the switchblade and stuffed it back into his pocket.

Letting out a deep sigh, he then dipped his fingers into his dark suit jacket, and from an inner pocket, fished out a small velvet box.

“I got you a new ring, by the way,” he huffed, opening it up as he stepped back to where you sat, “this one’s bigger, like I promised.”

Sitting down on the crimson sheets beside you, he seized your trembling hand and slid the extravagant band into place, gripping your palm painfully as you glanced down at the massive diamond hauntingly glimmering back at you.

“You like it?”

The silver felt as if it burned your finger, like it had been dipped in hot searing acid mere seconds before sliding into place over your knuckles. But still, you just offered him a shaky nod as more tears dripped from your chin.

Lifting your glare from the colossal rock, you looked over at the guard and attempted to subtly catch his eye.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Preston swiftly noticed as his gaze never strayed far from you, “are you really so stupid that you think one of my guys will help you get away from me? Seriously? No amount of crocodile tears can get them to betray me,” locking his fingers around your jaw, you felt his hot breath graze the shell of your ear, “they’re loyal to me, to the Humphrey name,” casting his glace towards the guard, he snapped his free fingers, “hey, you! Look at my fiancé,” and to your horror, parted your ruined dress, “isn’t she beautiful? Answer me.”

“Yes, sir,” his reply had a military, nearly robotic lack of feelings to it, but nevertheless managed to still scratch Preston’s itch.

With his right, inked hand, Preston groped your breast firmly, “these gorgeous tits,” before sliding his unwanted touch further down your trembling body, “this round ass and this tight fucking cunt, all belongs to me,” he growled, before stretching his palm out towards the guard, “give me your lighter,” to which the harsh man swiftly obeyed, “I want everyone to know so, no matter what happens, no matter if you lose your ring again or what, I want everyone to know,” peeling his extravagant pinkie ring off, the swirly H that was embossed on it indicated it was his family ring that he now held in his grasp, harshly commanded the guard, “hold her still,” before he flicked on the lighter and held the flame under the seal, heating it up till the metal nearly glowed. Tuning out your screams of searing agony, Preston pressed the scorching crest to the very top of your exposed thigh and branded you like you were just a stock animal, “there,” he waved a hand for the guard to let go of you, “that should do the trick.”

As you shuttered in pain, Preston drew you in so close that you ended up in his lap, your spine pressed up against his chest and a horrifying hardness determined beneath your bottom.

“What do you think, doll? Should I let him stand there and watch us fuck?” he rocked selfishly below you, “maybe tonight will be the night I finally knock you up–”

His vile words were cut short as a series of gunshots suddenly went off on the other side of the door.

“You,” Preston waved to the guard, “go see what’s going on.”

Pulling out a gun, the man then slipped out only for the symphony of struggle to fill the apartment further.

“Shit,” you heard Preston mutter in alarm before he conjured his knife once more.

But when the scuffle abruptly stopped and silence washed over the luxurious apartment, only a moment passed before the grand double doors slammed open and in the threshold, with a gun firmly trained in Preston’s direction, stood the blood-soaked visage of Frank.

Moving just as fast, Preston shifted behind you, hauling you up to your feet and holding you to him like a shield as you felt the razor-like edge of his blade press against your throat.

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle series #lumberjack au #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle angst

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charliemwrites · 10 months ago

Note

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m too selfish with you.”

A simple sentence, one filled with a sentiment that many have felt before when balancing a relationship. But they were enough to bring Nikto’s entire universe to a standstill when they escaped your mouth. You? Too selfish?? Especially when it comes to him????? You could demand that he crucify himself for you, and he would walk into the arms of the cross like he is returning home, breathing in the scent of the cedar as it mixes with the iron of the nails that he strikes through his feet and hands and the blood that weeps from the wounds. You could ask him to drown the rest of the world, and he would tear the heavens open to cause waters to rise. He could become a plague upon humanity at the slightest hint of your desires, and you worry that you are being too selfish with him? When you have barely asked a single thing of him? Your commandments, though they are laws onto him and his actions, though craved into the wall of his bunk, were not orders. You never asked for his devotion, never demanded that he follow you, worship you, and, oh doesn’t that make you all the more worthy of it? So why do you now stand in front of him, shying away from his gaze, looking like a guilty sinner as you confess your perceived selfishness of him? Had he failed you so completely that you doubted his fidelity? What else could he possibly do to prove it to you? Every act of devotion the Bible has taught him is either is impossible for him (there is no family to sacrifice, no world-ending flood to build an ark for, nothing) or would go against your happiness (he would throw himself into fire while singing you praises, but he knows that goes against your first commandment and would make you extremely upset instead of happy). He feels trapped in that moment, staring at you, feeling like he failed you as your most devoted servant, when you finally speak again.

“You never ask anything of me. Every day, you follow behind me like my shadow, you treat me as some sort of deity, yet you ask for nothing from me. After I asked you to help me when I was injured, you asked for nothing in return. Even when I know you are aroused, you don’t even ask for time away from me to take care of it yourself, and I know I shouldn’t force you to do anything with me like that, I know that it’s probably a physical reaction more than you actually being attracted to me, but the fact that you won’t even separate from me to jack off when you need it all because I selfishly told you to always come back to me that one time, or because you feel like you owe me for being your nurse, and it makes me feel so selfish that I haven’t done anything to free you from me, when you deserve it, you deserve happiness, and release and freedom and-“

Nikto has been your shadow for a while now, has been on the receiving end of you talking endlessly multiple times before. It was one of the things that first made him comfortable with you: you talking at him instead of to him because you knew he didn’t want to talk. But never before had this habit made him feel quite so desperately hopeless as it currently is. You think he isn’t attracted to you? You are more beautiful than words could possibly describe! He could know every language to ever exist, and still be left desperately searching for a way to properly tell you just how stunning he finds every single piece of you. No picture or drawing, no landscape, no human, no galaxy, no poem or verse, nothing could EVER come close to being even a fraction as beautiful as you are. And if Nikto were someone else, maybe he could will himself into saying this out loud. But he isn’t. Nikto is only himself, could only ever be himself, and these thoughts in his head stay swirling around while his tongue feels like lead within his mouth. Nikto isn’t a man of words, so he does the best he can, and he grabs you gently, and kisses you.

It’s not the best kiss. You were cut off in the middle of talking, and Nikto, so panicked over the idea of you not knowing his worship is so much more than simple Hero Worship for his nurse, didn’t even remove his soft mask that he wears around base. But Nikto is desperate, and so are his lips underneath the soft cotton of the mask. They work against your own, and it’s clumsy at best. Any kisses Nikto has had before were lost to him in the trauma of his rebirth, leaving him unsure of his actions but certain in his intent. Yes, he may not know how to kiss you in this new body you claim he inhabits, but fuck if the feeling of your lips against his, even through the mask, doesn’t feel like the closest thing to heaven he will ever find. And a part of him feels like he has been knocked into the pits of hell with how hot he burns for you, finally able to feel some of the thrumming arousal that had been living within him, just for you.

If Nikto is left with a growing wet spot in his boxers when he pulls away from your lips, he won’t tell. At least, not if you don’t ask about it. Because he could never deny his Savior anything that you ask. And when you look at him, dazed but with stars in those beautiful eyes, and asks him “please, just ask for what you want. Don’t just secretly covet it. I want to give you as much as you’ve given me”, he agrees, because there is nothing else for him to do.

A new commandment for his wall, a new law by which he lives. And he already knows the first thing he will ask for from you, since the taste has left him starving.

Just… no words. Incredible.

#these are being added to the au #because they’re brilliantly written and I was given permission #and because they deserve to be there

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legendsgalore · 1 month ago

Text

Eiland finds you asleep

Another day, another find!

At least that’s what Eiland hopes. Ah, he wonders how you do it. It would be bitter, how after so many years of studying and searching, and excavating, he had scarcely turned up even a fraction of what you had found in three seasons, except the pink-haired man was too excited to bother.

You had furthered his research so much that some of his historical correspondences’ letters were feeling tinged with jealousy. But, they could not deny the importance of the finds!

Mistria’s relevance had fallen with their rank after the earthquake, but after the revelations found as a result of a literal treasure trove of evidence emerging, Eiland was a little smug reading multiple inquiries about excavation trips fellow researchers wanted to make to the town.

Not that he was smug of course, petty feelings like that wouldn’t do anyone any good, especially not him. But, Eiland muses, another thank you gift sent your way might be due soon.

He was on his way to the Western Ruins, the chilly fall air just the right temperature to keep his walk brisk, without hurried from cold. Eiland absent-mindedly plucked a blackberry from a bush as he considered what to get you.

Would you be suspicious if he bought an entire cake again, and *had* to give you a slice or two…? Or maybe he should find another dessert recipe for you, you seem to enjoy making and selling them, not that he was paying attention to when you went on a baking spree. He definitely didn’t make sure he was always able to purchase at least one dessert from Balor before the merchant sold them off.

Hmm, maybe a dessert recipe was too selfish of him. Now what to get you…

The princeling had stepped into the grounds deemed the Western Ruins, and the sound of the sea not-so-gently crashing against the nearby cliff was calming. Turning left, Eiland made his way down to the dig-site, and over to his tools, permanently left there.

He doesn’t waste time and picks up his iron shovel-gifted by you of course-and heads over to do some digging. Just as he makes his way down the slope, he pauses.

It seems like you had beat him here, but you’re curled up in the corner opposite to him. Eiland can’t see your face, and his heart drops at your stillness, and he rushes over to your quiet form.

Eiland calls out your name, and then stiffens as you shift in response. But instead of responding to him, you turned over and he could see your face now.

You…were asleep.

Eiland feels his jaw drop. You were curled up in the corner, hidden from the fall wind, and sound asleep. Were you waiting for him?

No, no, Eiland chides himself, that’s not the point now. He frowns and puts his hand to his chin. What to do? He definitely can’t carry you back to town, not like Balor or March could. But waking you up was out of the question. He couldn’t fathom how tired you were, but if you were asleep here he was not going to be the one to wake you up.

He…couldn’t handle doing that, the pinkette admitted to himself. He would feel bad watching your cute nose scrunch up, and then you look up at him with unguarded and sleepy eyes, and then you would say “...Eiland?” In a sleepy and cute voice and….

Gah, no Eiland. This isn’t the time.

He shakes his head, and then an idea strikes him. He unclaps and removes his cloak, and gently places it over you, like a blanket.

There, he has done something now.

Eiland feels himself beam, and then blushes at himself.

Ah, wow, he’s being quite silly about this, isn’t he? He really should wake you up so you can obtain proper sleep in your own bed. But, he looks again at you. You have tucked yourself into his cloak, and looked oh-so cute.

Eiland picks his shovel up, and, with one last glance at you, quietly pads over to the opposite side of the dig-site, and starts digging, albeit very quietly.

And no one would be any the wiser if maybe an hour later, he stopped for the day, and read a book next to your sleeping form, instead of digging.

#fields of mistria #fom #reader insert #fom eiland #reader x eiland

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hypnoneghoul · 1 year ago

Text

Another Way Of Breaking You Down

WC: 1,6K

Relationship: Swiss/Mountain

Tags: Butt plugs, anal sex, gill play

Swiss just gets himself gills and Mountain really likes it and they're kind grossly in love and there's a lot of cum

Notes: KING OF GILL FUCKING STRIKES AGAIN HEHEHEHEH WHO CHEERED (not the best but its something hehehe)

Read under the cut or on AO3.

This wasn’t exactly what he planned. How he planned it.

He didn’t plan it at all.

It started with a very boring conversation with Dewdrop, which somehow turned into them talking about gills. Swiss whined about not being able to experience what Dew so vividly described - orgasm triggered by gill stimulation.

Dewdrop also said Mountain was the expert in this field. That he wasn’t only exceptionally good at this, he also loved doing it, could get off on it himself.

When the same evening Swiss’ eyes lingered on Rain’s neck for too long he asked what it was that plagued the multi ghoul’s mind. Swiss could never say no to Rain, so he told him.

And Rain got an idea.

“You know, water ghoul’s have two unglamoured forms, right? We can switch between the features, technically, but there's a normal and… aquatic version. You’re part water. You should be able to shift into the aquatic form.”

It took a week for Swiss, under Rain’s watchful eye, to manage to sprout out gills.

Fully functioning gills.

Swiss made some… preparations before their last session. When they were done Rain offered to help him test them out first, but the multi ghoul was keen on having one specific person shove their fingers into the newly formed slits on his neck and ribs. Not only only, but he needed Mountain to do it first, and he needed it now.

That’s why he thanked Rain with a quick kiss and a promise of a blowjob and stormed out to go look for the earth ghoul. And the water ghoul didn’t take any offence, of course, he’d get his turn soon enough.

Swiss encountered a slight issue, on his way, though.

He threw on a hoodie, partially because he didn’t want to run around shirtless, but mostly so he could surprise Mountain. As the fabric brushed against the sensitive frills adorning the gills on his ribs and on his neck when he bunched up the hood, his knees nearly buckled and he had to hold in a moan, clenching around the plug he’d put in earlier.

There was no way he’d last longer than a minute when Mountain would touch him.

And there was no way he was getting rid of the gills.

The multi ghoul tried to regain at least a fraction of composure to go on a further search for his mate but he was only partially successful. He did find Mountain but by the time he did he was already rock hard and dripping.

“Hey, sweetheart, everything alright?” Mountain asked as Swiss barged into his room, locking the door behind himself. He checked it earlier but the earth ghoul had to move when he was running around the abbey with a boner and a plug up his ass.

“Mountain, my beautiful, kind mate,” he muttered, choking on a groan when he tightened the hood around his neck, “I have a… surprise, for you. Or us…”

“You look and smell like you’re in heat,” he chuckled in response, casting a glance down to Swiss’ tented pants. “What is it?”

The multi ghoul whined, letting go of his hood but not allowing it to fall completely just yet. He grabbed Mountain by his shoulders and pressed their lips together as he pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed. Swiss straddled Mountain’s lap, grinding his clothed cock against the other’s rapidly plumping up one. The earth ghoul’s hands started wandering over Swiss’ own arms and his back, nearing dangerously close to the gift hidden under the hoodie’s black fabric.

They slipped lower, thankfully. Mountain grabbed the multi ghoul’s ass and absentmindedly kneaded it with his big hands in a circular motion when his fingers brushed against-

“Swiss is that a-” he got cut off with a whimper from where Swiss had just hid himself in his mate’s neck, suddenly embarrassed. Mountain sneaked his hand under the elastic of his pants, being met up with a not-at-all-shocking lack of underwear, and trailed his rough yet gentle fingers down to under Swiss’ tail, in between his cheeks and got undeniable confirmation that the ghoul was indeed wearing a plug. He was also deliciously wet, but the scent coming off of him in waves was too spicy for it to be just lube.

Maybe gills weren’t the only water ghoul feature Swiss brought up.

“Is… is that my surprise?” Mountain breathed out, running his fingers through the sticky mess flooding Swiss’ sweats, grabbing the base of the plug and twisting it slightly. Just to hear the multi ghoul whine again.

“Half of it,” he mumbled, leaving wet kisses on his mate’s neck, his collarbone.

“Then show me the rest, my darling.”

Swiss rocked his hips into Mountain’s one more time before pulling away. He gripped the bottom of the hoodie and slowly pulled it up and completely off, throwing it into a corner.

When he looked at the earth ghoul again, his eyes were wide and glassy, mouth agape, nearly drooling, “W- what do you think?”

Mountain swallowed, blinking slowly as he, with great effort, turned his gaze up onto Swiss. His hands came to hover over the fins on his ribs with a silent question. Swiss nodded and long fingers made contact with the pretty frills, “How did you…?”

“Rain helped, we-” a growl cut him off. Swiss got the hint, no space for another ghoul’s name. “Relax, my beast, he didn’t touch me. I’m yours, it's all for you.”

“I need you on my cock, now,” Mountain spoke in a way that left no room for argument. Not that Swiss would have anything to say. He scrambled off of his mate, they both frantically ripped off their clothes and soon enough Swiss was crawling over to where Mountain situated himself against the headboard of his bed.

The multi ghoul knelt, knees bracketing Mountain’s own, and leaned down to push his face into the other’s chest. He reached behind Swiss, the other hand caressing his back, and eased the toy out of his non-stop dripping hole. Mountain’s own cock stood at full attention, tip flushed and shiny, needing to be buried in his mate ten minutes ago.

Swiss kissed Mountain, all but shoving his tongue into the other’s welcoming mouth, as he slowly sunk down on his length. Even despite the plug the stretch was wonderful, the unholy amounts of slick he was drooling creating the filthiest sound. They panted into each other’s mouths as Swiss bottomed out, both of them ridiculously close for how they’ve just started.

“Mountain, my love, p- please,” the multi ghoul whined and clenched down on him, making Mountain’s hips thrust up on their own accord. A wet squelch accompanying the movement.

“Fuck, you- you’re so wet,” he moaned, moving his hands to rest over his mate’s hip.

“No, no, touch ‘em, touch my gills,” Swiss cried out, emphasising his plea with another squeeze of Mountain’s cock inside him.

And who was Mountain to say no?

“Fuck that’s so hot, I love you so much,” his hands trailed upwards, thumbs softly brushing over the soft fins and gently lifting them up to tease the sensitive flesh of the slits, eliciting a high pitched moan from the multi ghoul. His mouth found Swiss’ neck, warm ragged breath ghosting over the gills there.

“M- Mountain, I love you too, fuck.”

“Shhh, my darling, I’ve barely touched you,” he whispered with another buck of his hips, another lewd noise. It made Swiss’ cock throb where it was trapped between them, flushed angry red and so wet.

Swiss let out a pitiful whine, between the feeling of Mountain’s cock filling him and his fingers teasing his gills he had approximately thirty seconds left before he’d burst, “I’m too close, shit, I’ll- I’m-”

“It’s okay, me too, my heart,” Mountain moaned into his neck as he got closer, now his lips were brushing over Swiss’ fins, making the ghoul nearly levitate with sensations. “Right there with you, yeah?”

The earth ghoul waited for anything of a somewhat coherent response, any indication that Swiss was ready to come. All he got was a loud whine and roll of his hips that made Mountain’s cock jump where it was buried in his ass.

He shifted his hands on Swiss’ ribs, replacing his thumbs with index and middle fingers on both sides. Not quite pushing them in, just gently laying over the slits, “Ready, love?”

“Y- yeah, Mountain, please,” he begged and the earth ghoul smiled against his neck, thrusting up again, his balls and thighs completely drenched in his mate’s slick by now.

Mountain slipped those fingers into the gills on Swiss’ ribs in the same second his tongue wormed its way into those on his neck. He sucked the sensitive fins into his mouth and Swiss was done, eyes rolling back into his head as he screamed.

The way his body clamped down on Mountain as he came and the taste of Swiss’ gills on his tongue forced his own orgasm to rip through him, hot cum filling his mate up as they both shook, holding onto each other tightly.

It took infinitely more time for Swiss to get back on Earth and looking down at the amount of cum his now limp cock drooled out in between their bodies nearly made him come again, right there. He may have already warmed up to water ghoul nature.

“Back with me, my dear?” Mountain asked, wiping away sweat from where it beaded over Swiss’ brows. It took his golden eyes a moment to focus on the earth ghoul’s emerald own but they lit up once he registered the soft, adoring look on his face.

“Mhmmm…” he purred, leaning down to rub his stubble on Mountain’s cheek, a gesture more meaningful than a simple kiss.

“I love you too, but we are extremely messy,” he chuckled, grabbing Swiss’ hips and helping him off of his softened cock. That only added to said mess, when Mountain’s cum started to leak out of the multi ghoul.

“Whoops,” he sighed, not sounding remorseful in the slightest. “Bath?”

“Bath.”

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #fanfiction #gill smut

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angled-blade · 2 years ago

Note

Omg Slashers with a super athletic reader? Preferably a runner and fucking outruns them? Perhaps gender neutral??

Slashers with an athletic reader

Slashers; Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer, Ghostface (Billy Loomis + Stu Macher), Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers (OG + RZ), Thomas Hewitt Warning(s): Vulgar language, deliberate mention of violence and murder. Type: Ambiguous | Headcanons

It’s safe to say that each of them had varied reactions.

• Billy Lenz

For the many years that Billy had remained to strike at the victims who live in the sorority home, not one of them did he expect to run from him. He also did not expect to encounter someone who was much more faster than he was. Billy initially thought that it was funny at first, recalling how none of the others did it, but it got him much more angrier after a couple of minutes.

— You had shoved the man with all your might, your dominant hand slapping the weapon out of his hands. A loud shatter ensued the moment it hit the ground, leaving the man in a temporary shock at your defiance against death—you could almost pinpoint when he became enraged.

“You pig bitch!” You could hear the man yell, his voice hoarse from having done so a good feet away.

You didn’t expect to get so far away from a killer who had been so careful with all his kills so far. Maybe he wasn’t right in the head, something that led to this disaster surely couldn’t be the work of a murderer who perfected his craft. You slowed down when his voice became softer the further you ran. You leaned against a tree, gulping down your anxiety as you looked around.

In front of you was the sight of a few houses, alongside a street you recognised—You’ve ran that far, so much so, that it had led you home. No wonder you couldn’t hear the angered man’s voice anymore.

“Thank god.” was your only response, quickly entering your home and locking it shut. You made quick work to clear your mind in some way, falling asleep despite your best efforts to remain alert. There you were, unaware of the now silent man’s stare.

The man’s gaze trailed onto your sleeping form from the window, before his attention moves onto the upper storey of your home.

It seemed you had an attic, too. —

Expect Billy right on your tail no matter how far you were from him, as he chases you down with bated breath.

• Bubba Sawyer

Bubba was used to the victims running away in an attempt to escape. Having you was, of course, difficult—you narrowly missed his lunges just by fraction. It had him throw a larger tantrum than before. Having you run about as carelessly as you did had him extremely anxious, the visual reminding him of his first runaway victim.

— Bubba couldn’t handle the idea of you running away, really. It brings him back to those days in ’74, where that girl had escaped him. This was the third time in a row where you booked it to run, and yet another time for him to react on autopilot and cage you in his arms ever so tightly.

You kept screaming, your voice becoming scratchy and weak as you pleaded with Bubba—or anyone, really. He felt some form of remorse about it, letting you go quietly, which was an opportunity you took advantage of quickly as you dashed down the road.

All could have been well, maybe, until Nubbins dragged you back from your legs. Those screams returned and Bubba couldn’t do anything about it this time around.

Seeing how you returned to the Sawyer home, Bubba realised that he could catch you easily. If Nubbins could, he could do so as well.

He stares at you, having heard the screams stop, his head tilted curiously. You stare back at him knowingly, seeming calm now that Nubbins and Drayton had left.

Bubba realised now that he never really knew anything about you, even the life that you had before. You came here with nobody, so he had no idea why you didn’t escape as you did.

He doesn’t understand what reason it was that you returned to their territory, he’s curious, but you pose a threat to the Sawyers—that meant he had to keep you.

Oh, you stress him out. —

Expect him to be rougher when he does catch you, just because Bubba’s exhausted doesn’t mean that he would just let you get away.

• Ghostface

• Billy Loomis

Sure, it was expected that the majority of Ghostface’s victims were to put up a little bit of a fight. He, however, has never anticipated to encounter someone who would have put up a similar fight as you did. You were on the track team, closely tied to Sidney in all sorts of ways. Though, it seemed as though you had other plans.

— ‘It’s expected. This is what you should expect every once in a while.’ Billy reminded himself, flicking his wrist as he took a moment to catch his breath. He has remained silent for this long, there is no way is he going to use his voice on you, seeing how you could easily escape—a benefit for being on track and field, he supposed—and tell the authorities that it was his voice.

The more he repeated the thought in his mind, the more he felt angered at the little process that he has made getting everything over with you.

He called off on killing you tonight, deciding on planning how he could get rid of you in a lot more gruesome way. Maybe to taunt your team, he could always take polaroids of your dismembered legs and send them as ‘good luck’ gifts. To fuck around even more, maybe even sneak some pieces of you in their home—incriminating them instead.

He thought of many more ways to ruin you, a grin hidden by his mask as he disappeared into the thick of the forest, retracing his steps back home as he snuck back in by the window. He’s gotta greet Stu tonight about the change in plans.

Billy honestly wanted to be back at your home, your blood on the floor as the life drained from your eyes as you gasped for air. He should try strangling you, just like Stu did with rope last Christmas.

Yeah, some of the victims picked by the two are bound to be better runners than others, but fuck were you annoying. —

Expect a more sadistic Ghostface hunting you down, the dagger in his hand with every swing to match your pace.

• Stu Macher

Stu finds it exhilarating, really. Someone is actually smart enough to leave—and even better, is able to outrun him! His victims, to an extent, did escape his clutches once or twice. Though, none of those on his hit-list ever made it out alive by the end of the night—not until you, which has you promoted as his favourite chase out of practically every victim he’s gotten.

— Stu stared at your running figure, feeling giddy once more. There you go, his favourite victim! If he felt the need to put in any effort to really kill you, he would have, but how could he resist tasting the fear that your body exuded in waves?

Those teary eyes you had when you were cornered? The glint of hope that resolved itself in your eyes when you found a route to escape? Oh, all your miniscule expressions has him excited, seeing how you restrict yourself from showing too much to Ghostface, but plenty to him.

The duality interests him a whole lot. He likes seeing the contortions of every muscle that has you tensing up when he reenacts movement that he had done on one of those very nights—just to taunt you, but to also see how you’d react and if you were smart enough to make connections.

He’s lost interest in killing you, really! Maybe he could show you a few parts of your friends as tokens of appreciation for participating in their game and playing it so well.

Stu honestly wanted to see you shatter before him; be it on these nights he visits you as Ghostface, or you breaking down in school and turning to him for comfort.

Oh, he can’t wait. —

Expect a rather playful Ghostface greeting you, the dagger’s blade lightly nicking you a few times each time he caught up to you.

• Jason Voorhees

Jason had run-aways often, the window of opportunity being possible with him being incapacitated beforehand, though it was always temporary. Nothing of the sort happened, and yet he was still unable to get rid of you. You had the ability to escape him and live to tell the tale, why would you return to him?

— Jason’s good eye trained on you as he walked in large, domineering strides, following you from a much closer distance. Despite that, he remained ever so silent, making you almost unsure of how close you were to escape.

How the hell were you supposed to tell the police department? A masked killer who looked eerily to the infamous Jason Voorhees killed your friend and was after you? How were you going to explain to them why you were in Camp Crystal Lake? Were you supposed to leave out some details? Leave out the fact that you were in there, maybe, and that you were concerned for a friend?

Fuck, thinking while running was not a good idea. You got sidetracked and lost sight of where you were headed along the way. You were already in the thick of the forest, the sight of a road from afar one that you focused on in an instant.

You gulped down your fear, not wanting to face the wrath of the killer that you and your friend had unknowingly incurred.

You saw the road become closer, until you were a few meters away. You felt relief reach your aching muscles, only for them to tense up once more.

A large hand, its skin gray and rough, gripped onto your dominant wrist. You could only let out a wail as he drug you back, his nail digging into your skin as a warning. —

Expect an extremely focused Jason for every time that he catches a glimpse of you, a feeling washing over him with each time that he follows you.

• Michael Myers

• ’78/OG

OG expected you to do so after you (quickly, he noticed) realised that he was no average Halloween participant. He, however, did not expect you to disappear from his sight as quickly as you did. He will (just barely, that he ignored) catch a glimpse of you in the very distance, a rush of energy flowing through him as if he could not wait to catch you.

— You couldn’t see the man anywhere once you had ran from the building, fear still present in your eyes as you kept looking around. Paranoia still stuck with you as you made a few changes in your path, taking multiple shortcuts and longer routes to throw the killer off your path.

Surely that would confuse the masked male who, without you realising, had been closely following you. His steps matched yours, though a lot more quieter as your shoes crushed the dead leaves beneath you.

You were different to him, your appearance one that he took to committing to his memory if you happen to break into a sprint as you did when you realised who he was the first time around.

You were passing these houses now, the candles that were in those carved pumpkins still lit. Their presence illuminated the now dead streets of Haddonfield, shedding light onto the killer who acknowledged the fact that you stopped walking.

After hearing another set of footsteps, you turned to see the man once again—this time around, you did not choose to hesitate. This was a matter of life and death, after all.

And so, the chase was on. —

Expect a curious OG to be unrelenting as he stalks you down, the idea of killing you a thought he now had abandoned out of intrigue.

• RZ

Maybe it was the fact that RZ had developed a little more than his original counterpart, patience is not a word that can be associated with this killer. The longer the victim lives, the more aggressive RZ becomes in response. The very fact that you remain to graze past the inevitability of death, the more destruction is caused by him in its wake.

— You heard the woman’s scream as the boogeyman struck her, the sheathing sound of a blade intercepting her chest, tearing through her flesh—it even hit bone, the harrowing echo of cracks sounding throughout the entire room—you felt horror intercept your very being, heartbeat at a state of unease as it pounded against your chest.

He killed her as if he was gutting her like a fish. You felt your breath quicken, catching the attention of the killer. You couldn’t hear his footsteps; they were far too quiet to hear over the rush of thoughts that overtook your mind.

Only when you heard his heavy breathing, you reacted on autopilot. You ran, and ran. Away from that house, away from the street he was at.

You were only a passerby—not even someone he was targeting, so why was it that he felt more rage toward you running away?

You were nosy, that’s what. You sat through the woman’s death and did nothing. Did you hear of the woman’s words? How long? The thoughts plagued his mind, more rage flowing through as he stared at your smaller figure from a good distance away, following you now.

At home at last, you relaxed, unaware of the man standing on the porch by your backdoor.

He recognised your face now, you won’t get away from him so soon. —

Expect a more aggravated RZ hunting you down in the nth chase that you two have been caught in. He remains unstoppable, curious to see you break.

• Thomas Hewitt

Thomas supposed that with time—there had to be people that will outrun him and book it from Texas, never to return to taunt the folk there. You kept returning, much to the Hewitt family’s chagrin. Thomas felt on edge whenever you were visible in town—even if you couldn’t see him—preparing to catch you once and for all.

— “Oh, shit.” Thomas stood before you, his eyes trained on you as he remained still. You felt your body tense, though you tried to offer a sheepish grin. You knew how to get out of this alive—plus, he didn’t bring his chainsaw along this time around.

“This is a bad time to–shit, why the fuck are you everywhere? I just wanted to—” You were cut off with a snarl. A warning you knew not to mess with. You backed away, unsure of what that was to imply for you. Was he thinking about butchering you? Hanging you on the hook as he skinned you?

You couldn’t tell, nor could you make a coherent thought as he raises his hands slightly to abdomen level, seemingly in preparation to do something. You turned on your heel and ran, even if the hot Texas heat burned against your back, your lungs burning now with the uncomfortable warmth that dried your throat.

You were running on the road now, the gravel brushing against your beaten down shoes as you kept running. The heat, of course, became one that was your enemy. You weren’t thinking ahead, nor were you able to grasp how far out you were in the state.

Collapsing, a figure neared your limp body. You gasp as hands hoisted you right up to land against their broad shoulders, the wind having been knocked out from your throat. You began to whimper as you two made the long journey back to that damn house.

A thought settled in your mind and had you teary eyed, as you gave into this situation helplessly.

You were never leaving this place, weren’t you? —

Expect a determined Thomas whenever he sees you, though, no matter how long it will take to catch you; he’d always catch you.

Hey! I hope you enjoyed this piece and that it fulfilled your request!! Thank you to all the many requests that have ended up in my inbox alongside the occasional asks! I am ecstatic at the fact that you all enjoy my work!! (: Again, please reblog this post! I really appreciate it. Thank you again for reading this, have a great day/night!! (:

#billy lenz x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #og michael myers x reader #rz michael myers x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #black christmas x reader #texas chainsaw massacre x reader #ghostface x reader

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paingoes · 4 months ago

Text

Destroyer - Birthday I

(Masterlist)

you guys have NO idea how excited i am to get to this section. this is a two-parter. enjoy :D

(Content: discussions of captivity, slavery, imperialism, illness, and colonialism. alcohol. some very slight dubcon.)

===================

He’d come back to Thales. They’d warned him it was tempting fate, but lightning never strikes the same place twice. And it was about time they did something with the castle. In winter, the frost shone delicately against the outer walls. It reflected the starlight out across the lawn, its colors glistening as if made of moonstone.

It was Paris’s birthday. They would celebrate here. There was enough notice given to the staff for them to restore the castle to a fraction of its former glory, then almost enough time to manage the actual preparations. Nobody could say that he did not understand showmanship. The inside of Castle Thales was ethereal and ancient. All the ghosts were out tonight.

He didn’t get anything out of it, not really. He smoked alone in the garden, the icy remnants of the summer flowers crushed down by his boots. He watched the procession of guests through the doors without much enthusiasm. He had no use for them socially, no interest in business tonight. He was already ready for it to be over.

He tossed the cigarette butt out onto the frozen grass, turning to go back inside.

“Paris!” Her voice carried across the field. She almost knocked him over, arms flying around his neck. He stumbled before he caught her.

“I’m so sorry, I meant to see you sooner,” Her head was fully in his chest, pressing up against the wound, “I saw the footage. Paris, I couldn’t believe it.”

She laughed a little as she withdrew, “Why would you ever have the party here?”

Paris smiled at her, some of the sullenness melting away. Her hair was done in tight curls, but her dress was modern and hung loosely off her body. It made her look more boyish than usual. The diamonds on her face reflected the light shining off the castle.

“Going for symmetry,” Paris’s eyes glanced out to the treeline, a sliver of fearful expectancy still obvious in his voice. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Of course I came,” Lorelai said softly. He had smelled faintly of antiseptic.

He offered her the last cigarette in the pack.

“You just got a new lung! Why do you even have that!” She protested, reaching for it anyway. He lit it up for her. Her lipstick stained the filter.

===================

Delta was exhausted. He’d been given too much to heal from lately. Sierra had spent all afternoon with him, getting more and more frustrated as she found more bruises. His shade was so specific, it took hours to cover up properly. She’d been on the verge of tears before she even got around to working on the others. It was too large a festival for one day. Delta felt for her, but the stress didn’t make her particularly nice to be around. He blinked some of the paint out of his eyes, still feeling the sting of the brushes.

A thick chain connected his collar to the base of the throne. He was very familiar with this specific position. The court had not so long ago belonged to the Emperor. In most ways, it still did. He’d been made to kneel here ever since he had first been acquired. In his memories, the throne had been larger. The space felt too small for him now.

He straightened up, noticing his own slouching. Little jolts ran through his body, one of the best ways he had to wake himself up. These things tended to run long. He raised his head up slightly to look out at the ballroom. It really did look beautiful tonight, but there was something uncanny about it. Something in how the light played. He’d lost track of Paris a while ago, which would’ve been fine, had he not been so anxious about his return. He found himself subconsciously scanning the room for any signs. This time, he caught one.

Paris was hanging by the southern entrance to the hall. A girl - Lorelai? - was standing close to him. Delta recognized the soft copper of her hair, but couldn’t see her face from her position. She turned around suddenly. He jumped a little, realizing she was looking straight at him. He could read Paris’s body language well enough to know they were arguing. Delta quickly bowed his head back down. He wanted nothing to do with it.

He didn’t look back up again until he heard her footsteps approaching – and even then, he tried to avoid it. She was wearing the same boots she had on the first time they met.

“What about you?” She said, leaning down, “Do you wanna dance?”

The diamonds of her face were so striking. They lit up like a kaleidoscope – almost too hard to see past. Paris was standing a few paces behind her, glaring daggers. Delta froze.

She whipped her head around, catching Paris’s sour expression. “Knock it off.”

He laughed. It wasn’t kind. She whirled on him entirely, the ends of her dress spinning behind her. Her fists were clenched. He said something low, through grit teeth. Delta couldn’t make it out, nor could he make out her response. It went on like that for a few turns before Paris threw his hands up.

“You know what? Fine,” He marched over to Delta, grabbing the collar harshly. He flinched. Paris released the lock, letting the chain clatter to the floor.

“Fuck both of you.”

Paris stormed out. Lorelai put her hands to her head, clutching her own hair in frustration.

“God, he’s such a baby sometimes.” She groaned.

She turned to look at Delta again. He was visibly grimacing, staring out in the direction Paris had left. He rubbed at his neck absently, a bit sore from where the chain had been yanked.

Lorelai extended her hand, “You can hang out with me if you want. Forget him.”

Delta eyed her warily. Her expression was warm — not mocking, as he feared she meant to be. It wasn’t a good idea. Yet he knew on some level the damage was already done. He had nothing better to do with his night. He gingerly took her hand. It was much softer than he had expected.

===================

Delta walked behind her with the quiet resignation of someone who was dragged everywhere, all the time. He didn’t have a problem with shadowing her, but it made him a little nervous to navigate the crowd this way. Seeming to sense this, she pushed out through a side door, into a more deserted corridor. The castle was labyrinthine to the two of them.

“It’s eerie that they decorated every room. Aren’t these supposed to be off-limits?” Lorelai mused, “I can’t tell what the theme is. Time?”

Delta was silent. She released his hand, tilting her head at him.

“You don’t like parties, I bet.”

“No, miss.” He blushed a little, rolling his shoulder back. She frowned.

“Want to get some air?”

“Yes, miss.”

She led him out onto the third floor balcony, which was also supposed to be off-limits. There were chairs up there, but she sat up on the stone railing. Delta lingered in the doorway. The stars were tinted with purple. The twin moons of Thales hung in different quadrants of the sky.

“You know, my folks didn’t want me to come to this,” Lorelai smiled a little, “Not after last time. You were there, weren’t you?”

Delta hesitated, “…For the assassination?”

She nodded. “What was it like?”

Again, he paused. He wasn’t used to open-ended questions. They made him a bit suspicious. He tried to feel out if a trap had been laid.

“Abrupt,” he said finally, “It only took a second. Miss.”

She felt her own chest, her manicured hands making small circles in her sternum.

“I can’t imagine. I really can’t.” She shook her head. “I could never go military, I’m too scared of pain. I used to cry like a baby whenever I had to get a shot.”

Delta’s bruises were invisible beneath the makeup. No question had been posed to him. He didn’t speak.

===================

He couldn’t deal with whiskey again. The smell alone made him nauseous, spurred the migraine forth for as long as he was around it. Lorelai accepted this condition gracefully. She had disappeared at the bar for a little while, re-emerging with two pink glasses.

“Try it, it tastes like juice,” She looked at him with huge eyes, pushing it into his hands.

“Thank you,” he whispered. She looped her arm in his, slipping back out from the crowded hall. The cold night wind bit into them as soon as the side door opened.

Delta could feel it coming on, but he couldn’t stop it. He loosened up too much when he was drunk. He forgot everything he was trying to safeguard. But Lorelai was so nice. He didn’t feel afraid to talk, the way he had been all the time recently. She giggled when she noticed she was getting real answers out of him. It wasn’t mean.

“My mom said if I take a year off, I’ll never go back. They keep threatening to cut me off and I don’t have the heart to tell them I really don’t care. I never wanted their money. I mean, I was glad to have it when I did, but I’m an adult now. I have dreams! I don’t wanna be their baby anymore.” She bumped into him, spilling a bit of her drink, “So what do you do?”

“Murders and executions, mostly.”

“Oh. Right.” She seemed embarrassed to have asked. “Come look at this.”

She trotted over to the steel fence surrounding the castle grounds. Delta strolled along a few steps behind her.

“You’ve been here before?” His voice was so soft, the wind almost carried it away.

“Few times. Not recently. I hope they’re still here,” She jogged the last steps to the flowerbed, then did a running slide onto her knees into the dirt.

“Ah! Cold!” She cried out, “Don’t do that!”

He hadn’t planned to. He bent down beside her to examine the bed. It was a little frosted over, but there were still white flowers visible this late in the season. Lorelai cupped one between her hands like she wanted to pick it, then stopped herself.

“Noella-nas. It’s a good story. You heard it?”

“No, miss.”

“During the settling of Swanni in the late medieval period, all of King Cataline’s court came down with this mysterious pox. It came for his wife and children first, then spread throughout the court. Eventually all of the pilgrims had contracted it. They called it Whicap. It would start inside their bones and eat its way out. It took off their arms and legs one at a time. King Cataline was sure they all would be killed if the plague carried on. So he went out into the wilderness to speak with the native people. They had seen Whicap before. They showed him the place where Noella-nas grows. He cut it out of the ground and brought it back to his court alchemist. The petals of Noella-nas were the cure for their illness. That’s how the pilgrims at Swanni survived their first decade. That’s why their children still live there today.”

She plucked a single petal off and rolled it between her fingers.

“They’re extinct in the wild. The forests they grew in were leveled and turned into farmland. Thales keeps growing them as a heritage project. Nobody really gets Whicap anymore, anyway.”

Her dress was dirty. Her knees had been scraped up and the soil of the courtyard was sticking in the wound. She popped the petal into her mouth, letting it melt there. It tasted like marshmallow root.

“Is it alright if I ask where you’re from?” She turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were bleary.

“I was born in captivity. I’m not from anywhere,” He answered. Despite the cold weather, he was strangely warm. Lorelai put her hand to her mouth, tracing her own lips as if to self-soothe.

“Oh. I thought you might be from one of the outer colonies. I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve met who were born outside Empire. It’s so scary. It’s too big. Did you just say you were born in captivity?”

He was starting to understand Paris better. He now knew what it was like to be physically incapable of shutting up.

“Yeah. Or I was surrendered to the Institute while I was still really young. I don’t have any memories of ever living outside of it.” He paused. “It’s probably easier that way. We would sometimes get kids who’d been surrendered at age seven or so. They never lasted long. They just couldn’t adjust to it.”

Lorelai fully covered her face now. “I don’t know how you can forgive us. I don’t know how anyone ever could.”

The air around them sparked. Delta, embarrassed, tried desperately to ground himself. Little arcs of electricity were coming off of him in a way he couldn’t control. Lorelai kept her face buried in her hands and would not get up until Delta asked her to come back where it was warm.

===================

They went into the basement. Delta had asked nicely. He got the strange sense he might never have another chance to see it. The door was locked, but the lock was not strong. It wasn’t the same one they’d had when Delta was kept there. Lorelai kicked like a mule. It burst open.

Delta got a little woozy at the sight of the stairs. They were ivory and covered by a finely woven rug. Its wine red shade had faded mostly to brown. The two of them descended.

The floor came into view first. It was warm marble tiling, inlaid with gold. It spread out in their vision as they neared the bottom. It spread — and there was very little else.

“Oh,” Delta realized, “They got rid of it.”

The expensive and well-insulated material that had made up the walls of his room were torn down. All that was left were the support structures. Thin beams of rebar descended from the ceiling and down into the tile. They marked out the perimeter where the room had once ended. Standing alone, they looked a lot like the bars of a cage.

Lorelai slipped in between them. The light sound of her boots clicking on the tile suddenly changed as it came into contact with the old floor. It was well insulated, meant for grounding. Her steps sounded heavier. They made a dull echo throughout the room.

She spun around, running her fingers along the bars.

“It’s so small,” she said.

“I was younger when they built it,” Delta said weakly. He didn’t know why he was defending them. He didn’t even want to get close. He glanced around again. The outer walls of the basement were decorated with simple paintings and tapestries. Besides that, there was nothing else down there.

“I think they took the rest of my stuff,” he concluded, a small note of bitterness creeping into his voice. When he’d first gotten aboard the Thorn, Simon had packed him two suitcases. One was all clothes. The other was mostly books. Everything else he’d owned had been lost for a long time. Some small part of him hoped he might find it here.

Maybe it was for the best though. Had the room still been intact, he doubted he could’ve brought himself to enter it. Just the idea of it made him nauseous.

Lorelai slipped out from between the bars. She leaned her hip against the one of them and hooked her arm around another as if to steady herself. The rust of the rebar stained her skin. She didn’t seem to notice.

“That’s…really scary,” she says slowly, “I’m sorry.”

Delta brushes a strand of hair from his face.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Lorelai continued, “Do you want to go back up?”

He nods.

===================

“I mean, I guess I’m sorry it’s still happening,” she said.

“What?” Delta asked. They were on the balcony again. She’d gotten them more drinks. It was starting to be an unwise amount. She sipped at her mojito pensively. The silly straw did nothing to alleviate her grief.

“With you. I’m sorry you have to live like this.” Lorelai braced herself against the stone railing, looking straight down into the garden.

Delta didn’t answer.

“I like Paris, you know. He’s my friend. But he’s a lot sometimes. I don’t know.” She paused:

“...Is he good to you?”

She turned her head slightly to see if his expression changed. He was gazing out into the surrounding woods. The top of the ship was just barely visible over the treetops. The question hung in the air. Delta rubbed at his neck.

“I don’t think he wants to be this way.” He said finally. “He just…gets himself so worked up.”

She nodded like she understood. The sky was clouding up; her cup was empty again. When she moved to stand, her gait was wobbly. The glass toppled over. Delta caught her before she could fall too.

“Are you okay, miss?” Delta asked, a muted note of concern in his voice. He was used to the drunken two-step by now. At least with her, it didn’t hold the threat of sudden violence.

“I’m tired,” she murmured, “I’m…really tired.”

Delta led her back down the stairs to the ballroom. He flagged down her friends, who seemed to recognize the danger. They gathered to come collect her. Before he could pass her off, she leaned over and quickly pecked him on the cheek.

Delta blushed as her friends led her away. The party was over, anyway. She cast a last glance over her shoulder. Her expression was unreadable.

He traced the skin where she had kissed him. It had been right on top of the bruise.

~~~

Tags: @catnykit @indigoviolet311 @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire @micechomper

#whump #whump community #whump scenario #living weapon whumpee #whump prompt #living weapon #captivity #dubcon #delta is okay w it but its still kind of a grey area w him ykwim #delta #paris #lorelai #alcohol #also this is probably obvious but i want to say it anyway. it’s impossible for lorelai or delta to be objective abt paris #they both have love goggles for him to different extents

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parkerpeter24 · 2 years ago

Text

bloody love . part 3

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

warnings ➳ hanahaki!au, unrequited love, slightly happy ending, mentions of blood, read at your own discretion.

w.c. ➳ 2.4k

summary ➳ who said love couldn’t kill?

i mean who saw this coming. but i hope you enjoy because writing hanahaki!au has been my oldest wish and here we are 🥰

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

you were there everyday.

peter saw you every day, sitting on your fire escape, your face in the palms of your hands, looking up at the starts. even though you could barely see any with the amount of pollution in the city during winters.

two months had passed since peter talked to you. really talked to you. he saw you every day in the hallways of the hell everyone called school and every night on your fire escape.

you were so close to him, yet so far as he watched you, sure to stay out of your line of sight. the superhero assured himself that it wasn’t stalking if he was on his patrol and happened to stop by a building that happened to be near your apartment building.

peter remembered the day he landed on the same place your elbows rested now, and looked for you in the dark room and he wished, every night, that he could undo whatever it was that led to this situation. or maybe he’d convince you to talk to him about your feelings as soon as he found out about the disease. or he could express his own feeling which he’d kept dismissing as a ‘silly schoolboy crush’ everytime.

he would just about do anything to get you back.

but he couldn’t think of a way. not for the past two months. not since the day you walked out on him. and as he watched you recede to your room at 09:45, just the same time as every day, he thought maybe he deserved this after all and a feeling of familiar pain took over the brunette’s lungs as he took off.

it was a good thing that ned was talking to him. because gwen wasn’t. he didn’t really expect her to after he’d ghosted her for about as long as he’d known you had feelings for him.

but ned was there. he kept trying to stay in touch even after five weeks of his friend ignoring him like the plague. peter was just grieving and forever grateful that ned understood that.

“the empire strikes back? or return of the jedi? i’m in a star wars mood today.” ned stated as he picked up the two tapes in each of his hands. saturday night was a movie night. ned had invited peter and another girl from his art class, michelle, over. peter didn’t really know her well and she didn’t seem too interested in conversation.

“when are you not in a star wars mood?” mj rolled her eyes, however a little smile played over her lips, as she skimmed through the pages of her book.

“maybe you should decide then.” ned suggested.

“fractured.” mj said within a second, shrugging her shoulders, “it’s a good one. quite underrated.”

ned seemed to think for a moment before he looked at peter, “what do you say, man?”

“i don’t mind.” peter said, giving his friend a pursed smile.

ned nodded and started the movie. as the opening credits rolled in, mj looked at ned and mouthed, “what’s his deal?”

“it’s complicated.” ned mouthed back.

peter rolled his eyes, hearing the two of them whisper around behind his back. however, he couldn’t fight what ned had said. it was complicated. and he didn’t want it to be.

and so peter decided that it was enough.

that night, on his daily patrol, he stopped by the same old building facing your apartment but this time instead of waiting for you to walk out of your window, he swung over and before he knew his fist was against your window, knocking at the glass gently until he saw a figure behind the curtains.

your figure.

you pulled the curtains apart, revealing your face and for a moment peter felt all air knocked out of his lungs. he hasn’t seen you this close since… *that* day.

“peter?” hearing your voice pulled him out of the trance he’d suddenly entered, “um, what are you doing here?”

peter remained silent as the mechanical eyes on his suit grew wider by a fraction. he had decided that he needed to fix this mess. but how; he didn’t bother to think about that. peter didn’t usually feel this nervous when he was covered top to bottom in his spandex suit but now he could feel his ragged breath against his mask.

“okay…” you stood there awkwardly, knowing peter was struggling to say something. you didn’t know why he was here but you weren’t gonna help him right now, “i don’t know what to say if you’re not gonna talk.” you gave him a pursed smile.

“i- uh. i-i want to talk.” peter laid out.

“oh, about what?”

“how’s school?” peter asked as if the past two months didn’t exist at all.

“it’s fine…” you trailed off, “boring.”

“right. i-i didn’t see you in ages.”

“i’m right here.” you nodded at him.

“nice.” peter was trying to stall the conversation but he’d run out of things to say, “listen, can we talk about…” he racked his brain to find something. *anything*

“about?”

“about you? i miss you.” peter sighed, watching your eyebrows furrow at his claim. did you not want him to miss me? did he just make a mess of the earlier mess that he was trying to solve?

he watched your fingers grip the curtains tighter, just about ready to shut it on his face, “pete, i think you should-”

“n-no, no, no. no. please. i didn’t mean that!” peter said, instantly realizing how it might have sounded, “wait, i do mean that. um, do you want me to? mean that?”

you found his nervousness adorable. it was probably easy for peter to think that it meant nothing to you but he didn’t know how easy it would be for him to crawl right back into your heart.

and that’s why you needed to stop this.

“don’t come to my balcony.” peter’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach hearing you say those words next. you weren’t even meeting his eyes as you added, “please.”

may could tell her nephew was going through a hard time. she saw him sulk around the apartment every weekend and this time around wasn’t any different. she watched him swirl around the last bits of his cereal, deep in thought, “got any plans for the weekend?”

“not really.” her nephew replied.

“what about gwen, maybe you can invite her over for dinner!” may smiled, hoping to lighten the mood.

“that was months ago.” peter stated simply, “i don’t think she’d be interested.”

“then how about we go out for dinner?”

“i appreciate you doing this for me, may, i really do but i-” he sighed, not knowing how to refuse the offer, “i’m sorry, i can’t.”

may hated to see her nephew like this. she’d always tried for him to be comfortable around her. enough to share something that was bothering him this much “just tell me what’s wrong, son.”

“well, i-it’s a long story.”

she gave him an assuring smile, “i’ve got nowhere to be.”

so he told her. he told her everything from the day he found you in your room, to the day you ran away to hide in the bathroom, to the day you left him ‘for the better’.

he just left out the detail where he was going through the same problem now.

however, he did feel lighter after sharing everything with his aunt. she tried to help by suggesting him ideas to sort the situation out between the two of you. the situation was a little too complicated. peter hated that word

the next day, as you were pulling out your physics book from your locker, you saw him approaching you again, “hey.” peter said, waving at you.

you raised your eyebrows at him, “hi?”

“walk to class with me?” he asked, hoping you’d say yes. the two of you shared ap physics so what could be the loss in walking together.

you nodded and started walking so suddenly that peter had to take a quick run to catch up to you, “look, i know we left some things unfigured and-”

“i don’t think this is the right time to talk about that.” you stated, looking straight ahead of you.

“okay. then tell me when will be the right time?” he persisted.

you sighed, finally looking at him, “peter, i told you to-”

“you told me to not come to your balcony. i’m not on your balcony.” your eyes met for a second and peter held them with so much intensity you had to look away.

you hesitated for a moment, “the fire escape. same time as yesterday.”

peter blinked, not believing you were actually ready to talk to him, “are you sure?”

“do not push it.” you shook your head at him and he knew better. so he stood there, watching you leave for a class you two shared.

he hoped tonight would make things better between the two of you.

it had become a habit for peter to land on the building in front of yours instead of directly swinging to your fire escape. he made a mental note to stop doing that.

he knocked at your window, second night in a row. you were pulling apart the curtains again and this time, you got out to the fire escape. peter jumped down from the railing and beside you.

“so?” you initiated, “what is it that you wanna talk about?”

“about you. how have you been?”

“better.” you stated, giving him a little smile, “you?”

“i’m okay.”

“for the record, i missed you too.”

“o-oh.” peter felt his cheeks warm against the material of his mask. the air was gradually turning chilly. the city was on the brink of december but it was somehow still warm. or maybe that was just peter because the next moment he found you shivering as a gust of wind passed by, rubbing your hands together, “you okay?”

you nodded, “a little cold.”

you watched as he shifted a little closer to you, your faces inches apart. you could see all the intricate designs that held his suit together, resisting yourself to reach up and trace along the web-like design, “i-it’s got an in-built heater.”

the two of you stayed in silence, you staring up at the sky like you did every day and peter couldn’t resist but say because he finally had the chance to, “you can’t even see anything up there.”

“you can actually! you just need to focus more.” you turned to face him, catching him already looking at you. you averted your gaze back to the stars quickly.

“look, there’s ursa major.” he pointed out.

“yeah! cool, right?”

“it’s actually pretty hot.” peter said, realizing you didn’t get his joke when you gave him a confused look, “well, because it’s a star and stars are… hot.” he chuckled awkwardly.

“that was a terrible joke.” you deadpanned before letting out a laugh.

“come on, you know you liked it.” peter grinned.

“absolutely not!” you laughed, further proving his point, “however it did remind me, do you want some hot chocolate?”

the two of you made your way inside through the window. peter pulled off his mask finally and you took in his appearance. his cheeks were slightly red, probably due to the cold, hair ruffled as he shook his head to let a few strands out of his face. he’d really let his hair grow out. you avoided eye contact once he caught you staring, “i’ll go get it.”

peter looked around the room. you had done some redecorating. a few of your pictures with him were missing– in fact only one picture of you two together remained on your wall and it wasn’t even the two of you it was a group photo from back when your class went on a field trip– which was a little unsettling to peter but right now, talking to you was a big enough step so he pushed all the other worries to the back of his head.

the sound of two voices arguing pulled peter out of his thoughts. the voices belonged to you and your mother, he figured, and found you two talking about him?

he heard your mom’s voice loud and clear, “then why the two mugs?”

“because i was craving two hot chocolates.” you reasoned.

“y/n. come on! the past month has been so much progress. there were no flowers, not even once!”

before peter could register whatever was happening, you rushed inside the room, slamming the door with the help of your foot as you placed the aforementioned mugs on your study table.

“you need to hide in the closet.” you hurried, pushing peter a bit towards the closet door.

“what? y/n, i’m not in the closet anymore, you know i’m bi-”

“this is not the time to make jokes, please! just hide!” you whisper yelled.

peter placed his palms on either side of your face, sensing your heart palpitating. he caressed your cheeks, way too calm as your mom knocked at your door, “hey, hey, calm down.” he took a deep breath, compelling you to do the same, “i’ll leave now, don’t worry. see you tomorrow.”

he gave you a smile, quickly making his way over to your window and stepped outside before closing the curtains just the way you kept it, while you opened the door to your room, letting your very frustrated mom inside, “where is he?”

“where is what?” you tried to act casually, “i told you i just can’t have enough of hot chocolate.”

“y/n y/l/n. where is he?” she demanded yet again.

you sighed in defeat, finding a sudden interest in the wooden floor, “he left.”

it was her turn to let out a sigh. you could tell she was disappointed because any time she wanted to express that, she addressed you by your whole name, “miss y/n y/l/n, do you know why i’d let you opt out of surgery?”

“because i wanted to?” you offered, giving her a meek smile.

“no. because you were starting to get better. you were maintaining your distance from him and you were healing.” your mother said.

if peter was anything akin to confused before, he was perplexed now. unbeknownst to the two of you, he’d listened to everything that was going on inside. the dots were connecting themselves but peter seemed to be refusing the possibility that it was all true.

you never got a surgery?

peter felt something in his chest but this feeling was different than what he’d experienced for the past two months. he felt an unprecedented warmth spread throughout his lungs.

like hope. like everything would eventually be okay.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist | masterlist ✨

taglist : @the-girl-in-the-chair @annathesillyfriend @uwiuwi @spideyspeaches @prancerrparkerr @usergarfields @theglitterymess @quaksonhehe @lowkey-holland @starlight-starks @piscesparker @incorrectsourwolf @wildxwidow @annab-nana @blankspaceblankday @kelieah @arvinsvintage @faultlinegracie @icarusafety @raajali3 @tommyfroggie @saturnpeter @ellabellabus07 @comfort-reads @holland-styles @1-800-starkindustrie @feariteriu @wittlewowa @20forty9 @skepticalleo

#peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter fic #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker series #spider man #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker imagine #andrew garfield!peter parker x you

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eris-snow · 4 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), izuku x fem!reader, angst, plot, class a shenanigans, filler, I'd die for Izuku, birthday, fluff

Masterlist

July 13th. Crack and break.

---

There were 3 things you knew had happened yesterday.

Number 1: Your days with him had ticked from 4 to 3. This version of Izuku would go poof in a matter of days, and you were going to miss it. Somehow, Izuku had compacted a year's worth of memories in the span of two weeks, and now, you didn’t want him to let go. This was the closest he’d ever got to remembering you, thrashing against binds and battering against an unbreakable wall. You’ll miss it, of course you would.

You’ve never seen him try this hard for you.

Don’t leave me, Izuku. I’m scared of the look in your eyes when you don’t recognise me. Even if you don’t need me, even if I don’t need you, I want to stand by your side. Please don’t go. Please remember me.

Number 2: Izuku had found something

Ever since Izuku had come back from the clearing, he’d been distant. He’d found something, of course he did.

The Saviour of the world can pride himself on his unreasonable number of Quirks and excellent portfolio, but he couldn’t lie to save his life. If there was one thing in heroing he’d be bad at, it’d be undercover missions.

You drink coffee from the cup, shiver at the bitterness, and take another sip. You need to stop psyching yourself out, otherwise, you’re going to combust from the inside out. Splattered organs would not look good beside a fucked up kitchen.

And the 3rd thing…

There was a student found on campus in a pool of blood.

There was no indication of an intruder, so when she was admitted into the infirmary and patched up, everyone thought she was fine until she woke up and started bawling uncontrollably.

Depressed, Recovery Girl had said, right before admitting her into the hospital. Can’t even remember how to smile.

Chisuke had been on campus.

If Izuku hadn’t left with you yesterday, that could have been him.

You highly doubt that the villain could so much as graze Izuku, but what if he’d came in at night? Lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right time to strike…you shake your head, instead pushing your thoughts to homework.

Aizawa had reassured you that everything was under control, so why couldn’t you shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong?

—

Maybe you were being paranoid, but being paranoid saved lives okay, and if you had to look at another question involving differentiating a product rule in a fraction, you’d personally find a person with a time travelling Quirk, go back in time, and strangle whoever decided they were smart enough to jam math with letters instead of numbers.

Aizawa dms you the files within an hour, and you open and devour the multi-paged document like it was the latest chapter of a manga.

Chisuke Suzuki, the younger brother of Isamu Suzuki, has a Quirk that can shut down one emotion of his choice permanently. You sit back and read through the file, eying his details carefully before you scribble some of it down.

Analysis was good, because it also was a handy distraction. From Izuku’s dazed responses, he had his own things to work through that he didn’t want to tell you. The conversation mainly went like so:

“Hello.”

“Mm, bananas.”

“Midoriya, I was going to ask if you were doing alright? You seem pretty out of it.”

“Apples are great fruits too. I think Tokoyami can help you.”

“Midoriya, if you don’t give me a proper answer, I’m gonna take Kacchan and wham you over your head.”

“Sounds fun.”

Nothing’s more frustrating than Izuku being deep in thought.

And maybe part of you, a tiny part of you, was hurt by the fact that Izuku didn’t even think of telling you.

Shaking your head, you sigh. It doesn’t matter, it’s alright.

It’s okay, because in 3 days, Izuku won’t remember any of this at all.

—

Izuku shuffles and rereads the words in his mind once more.

Tit for tat, this for that. A brother for a brother, and pain for bits and scraps.

You want to find your memories? I understand. My Quirk is simple, very simple. Pain is not worth the weight of knowledge. Your trade is insufficient.

Try again.

“A fair trade.” He whispers, hand over his mouth as he works his way through the thoughts. “Your memories…for mine?”

Izuku shuts the thought down immediately because there’s no way that was fair. You’d kept them, held them dear to your heart and stayed by his side this entire time. You are not losing your memories to his hands.

What can I do? What can I exchange? What do I have to lose.

“Oi, idiot, you’re muttering out loud again.” Katsuki says, flopping down on a nearby beanbag. Izuku promptly ignores him.

Your trade is insufficient. Try again.

Try again.

Izuku glares down at his hands with a look that could kill, trying, but failing to find the right instrument to strike the right chord.

Other memories, perhaps?

(”Dude, is he okay? Seriously, I feel sorry for his cup, man, He could boil tea with that gaze—")

Try again.

An arm? A leg?

Try again.

His Quirk? Izuku pauses in contemplation, jerking his head up.

“Oh, he’s alive,” Shoto says tonelessly, from somewhere in the background

There’s a faint hum in his mind, an answer bubbling up to the surface, until—

Try again.

Izuku slams his head against the table.

“Bro, come on,” Kirishima whines, swiping his pancakes off the table. “My breakfast!”

“Sorry,” Izuku mutters, forcing a sheepish smile, before he dives head first back into the table.

“I think he’s lost it,” Kaminari whispers all too loudly from the safety of the couches.

Izuku chucks the pillow on his lap at Kaminari as the blond ducks.

“Haha, missed me—DUDE WHAT THE FUCK, THAT WAS A WHOLE ASS CHAIR.”

“Please get your sorry ass up to Y/n’s room and date her already.” Ochaco murmurs.

Izuku’s head shoots up from the midst of his table toppling. “What?”

“Wait no, don’t do that.” Ochaco hums seamlessly, yanking her already split coffee from the table. “Okay, you can have the table now.”

“Thanks.”

“Noo, Midoriya, man! I thought Kacchan was the mean one! Please don’t stab me with a table leg! I swear, it was just a—AHHHHH BAKUGOU FUCKING HELP. HEELLLPPPP, MIDORIYA’S GONE STIR CRAZY, HE’S MAD WITH POWER, HEL—”

—

When you walk downstairs and find your first love chasing a certain idiot blond around the living room with a whole ass table in tow, you stop and stare, before making eye contact with Ochaco. She shrugs.

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, as if to say “Why the fuck would you expect me to know?”

Izuku’s muscles are taunt and firm as he hauls the table. You watch his biceps flex, tune out Kaminari’s screaming, and lick your lips.

There’s a camera flash, and you pocket your phone.

Picture-perfect, really.

—

It’s only when Izuku returns to the dorms does his headaches come back in full force. Truthfully, he should have been expecting it. Staggering, he barely has enough time to lock his door before he falls to his knees on the ground. Everything is ice-blue, and the ringing in his ears add to the disequilibrium he’s experiencing. He’s on the floor, but he feels like the world has tilted sideways.

Pain is not worth the weight of knowledge.

He groans, and in his agony blossoms another image that tastes like blood and tears.

It’s his birthday, and the sun is out and bright. It’s his birthday, but tears are running down your cheeks, and you’re holding him like he’s dying on the battlefield and ashamed like you murdered someone with your two hands.

“Zuku, please.” You sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m so sorry—”

He wants to say it’s okay, wants to tell you he’s fine, but he’s frozen still.

Stop meddling.

The voice whispers, disgruntled and annoyed.

Hox wax coats his brain as he screams, easing himself down from hell. Cotten candy melting in his mouth, iridescent rainbows, fluffy clouds, beautiful skies—

There’s another loud crack, and the wall fragments even more.

He yanks himself out of his own mind, and gasps at the return.

His birthday at 10 was laid bare in front of him. His Quirk Accident.

The day he forgot you, wrapped up in a neat bow and presented to him like a birthday gift.

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valdomarx · 1 year ago

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Follow my lead

Istredd's eyes comb over the ballroom. Among the great and powerful mages of the continent, there is one figure who draws his attention more than the others.

Even in the ridiculous doublet which he clearly despises, Geralt cuts a striking figure. In the midst of the wealthy and powerful who are coiffed and primped and decked out in the finest fabrics and enchantments, his simplicity somehow catches the eye.

There’s a stillness to him, Istredd thinks. A surety and solidity that pulls people in, like the forces which set the stars above in their rotations.

The sharp staccato of the Melange dance begins, and Istredd takes his place opposite Geralt and Yennefer, acknowledging them with a nod. The opening bars of the dance are simple: a step, and then another, a turn, and a step. Geralt raises one arm, and Istredd mirrors the movement. They step toward and past each other, the back of their hands barely brushing, the brief contact leaving a thrill like an enchantment crawling up his arm.

Geralt turns. Istredd turns. They pace apart and the music crescendos, syncopated beats building. They swing to face each other once more, and Istredd is drawn toward him, eyes glued to Geralt’s gleam of silver and black, stepping first to one side, and then to the other.

They come closer, and closer, face to face now, and then the music stops. They pause for a moment’s silence, like a gulp of air, and the tiniest hint of a smile plays at Geralt’s mouth. Istredd looks down at his lips, and then back up, and there’s a heaviness in the air like rain about to break.

And then the music comes crashing back, and Istredd is swept away back into the throng of dancers, his heart hammering in his chest for no good reason. The musicians beat out the final bars of the Melange and Istredd ends up back where he started, staring across the crowd at Geralt.

Then there are speeches and the usual pandering, but Istredd’s mind is elsewhere. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a presence behind him and a gravelly voice says, “Do something for me, Istredd.”

Geralt’s voice is rich and deep in his ear, and he wants to say, “Anything.” Instead, he turns to face him and gives a sharp, professional nod.

That hint of a smile is back as Geralt says, “Follow my lead.”

And then Geralt’s hand is cupping his jaw, and his other hand loops around Istredd’s waist to pull him in, and Geralt kisses him like there’s not a single other person in the room.

Istredd melts into him, and it’s really not a hardship to follow, with the way Geralt’s tongue is grazing at his lips and he’s nipping playfully at his mouth. Istredd puts his arms around Geralt’s hips, bringing their bodies into line, and he’s aware of the shocked murmurs of the crowd around them.

Let them fucking murmur. He feels Geralt smile against his mouth, and then Istredd finds himself dropped into a low dip, almost parallel with the floor. Geralt’s arms are strong and firm around him, and he doesn’t fight it. He lets himself be swooped into a scandalous horizontal line, Geralt’s mouth hot on his own, and the gasps from the crowd intensify.

Follow his lead, Geralt had said, so Istredd throws one leg around the back of Geralt’s thigh to really sell it, grinding their bodies together from face to foot. Geralt moans into his mouth, and the sound of Tissaia hissing about appropriate behavior for the occasion carries through the buzzing gossip of the crowd.

Geralt pulls back by just a fraction so that their eyes meet. The amber irises are sparkling with amusement as he says, “Do you think we have their attention?”

Yen stretches out on the silk sheets, decadent and sated. She runs a hand through the silver tangle of Geralt’s hair where it spreads over the pillows.

“You know, when I asked for a distraction earlier, you kissing Istredd wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Geralt smiles one of the rare, slow, genuine smiles. She really likes those ones. “It worked out pretty well in the end, didn’t it?”

Yen looks down to where Istredd is fast asleep between the two of them. She lays a fond hand on his shoulder and lets out a laugh. “I guess it did.”

#geralt x istredd #geralt x istredd x yennefer #the witcher #my writing #is this a crack ship still? i think i might unironically ship it now #ah dear i played myself #the witcher spoilers

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teddymoon06 · 2 months ago

Text

Close to the edge

Chapter Four: The Weight of Loss

The silence in the storeroom was suffocating. Y/N sat on the cold floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. The image of Ji-su—twisted, broken, and lost—was burned into her mind. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake it. She had faced loss before—her family, her friends, her world—but this felt different. More personal. More devastating.

Ji-su had been her strength, her hope in the darkest moments. Now, that light was snuffed out, and in its place was only the gnawing emptiness that threatened to pull her under.

“You should rest,” Yeonghu said softly from his place near the door. His bat rested against the wall, ready to strike at any moment. He never let his guard down, not even now. His face, as always, was unreadable, but Y/N could sense the weight he was carrying too. She wasn’t the only one who had lost someone.

“I can’t,” Y/N whispered, her voice hoarse. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her.”

Yeonghu glanced at her, his expression softening for a fraction of a second before he looked away. “You can’t keep going like this. If you don’t rest, it’ll only get worse. You’ll make mistakes.”

“I know,” Y/N murmured, though the thought of sleeping—of letting her mind drift back to Ji-su’s final moments—made her stomach twist with dread. She didn’t want to see her friend’s lifeless body. She didn’t want to relive that horror.

But Yeonghu was right. If she didn’t rest, she’d be a liability. She’d slow him down. And in a place like Green Home, a single mistake could mean death.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N shifted her position, resting her head against the wall. Her body ached with exhaustion, the pain in her leg throbbing beneath the bandage. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of her breathing instead of the chaos swirling in her mind.

But sleep didn’t come.

Instead, her thoughts wandered back to the group. They had lost Ji-su, but what about the others? Hyun-su, Jae-heon, and the rest of them—were they still alive, fighting somewhere in this hell? Or had the monsters taken them too? The uncertainty gnawed at her insides, filling her with a restless desperation. She wanted to go back out there, to search for them, to make sure they were safe.

But she wasn’t strong enough right now. She wasn’t ready.

“We’ll find them,” Yeonghu said quietly, as if reading her thoughts. His voice was low, but there was a certainty in it that Y/N clung to.

“You don’t know that,” Y/N replied, her voice shaking slightly. She hated how weak she sounded, how hopeless. “We don’t even know if they’re still alive.”

Yeonghu turned to her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “I know they’re fighters. Just like us. And as long as they’re out there, they’ll keep fighting.”

His words didn’t erase the fear, but they did provide a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to help her breathe a little easier.

“They need us to stay alive too,” he added, his voice softer now. “We’re not doing them any favors if we get ourselves killed.”

Y/N nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. He was right. They couldn’t give up. Not yet. Not while there was still a chance that someone else was out there, waiting for them.

After a few more minutes of silence, Yeonghu stood and crossed the room. He knelt beside her, his presence calm but steady. “Here,” he said, offering her a small canteen of water. “Drink something. It’ll help.”

Y/N took the canteen gratefully, her hands shaking slightly as she unscrewed the cap and took a small sip. The cool water soothed her parched throat, offering a momentary distraction from the turmoil inside her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, handing the canteen back.

Yeonghu nodded, standing up and returning to his spot near the door. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he scanned the small room, his gaze never resting in one place for too long. It was clear that he never truly let his guard down, even in moments like this.

“How do you do it?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. “How do you… keep going? After everything?”

Yeonghu glanced at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he didn’t answer, as if he were weighing his words carefully.

“I don’t have a choice,” he said finally, his voice steady. “In a world like this, if you stop, you die. I’m not ready to die yet.”

The simplicity of his words struck her. It wasn’t about hope or heroism—it was about survival. In this twisted, broken world, there was no room for anything else.

“I’m not either,” Y/N whispered, though part of her felt like she had already died a little inside. Losing Ji-su had taken a piece of her she wasn’t sure she’d ever get back.

Yeonghu’s gaze softened for a brief moment. “We’ve all lost people, Y/N. It doesn’t get easier. But we keep going because that’s the only way to honor them. By surviving.”

Y/N nodded, letting his words sink in. Maybe he was right. Maybe surviving was all they had left. And maybe, if they could make it through this nightmare, there would be something worth living for on the other side.

But for now, all they could do was survive.

The hours passed slowly. Y/N eventually drifted into a light sleep, though her dreams were plagued with images of Ji-su and the other monsters that haunted Green Home. Every creak of the building, every distant growl, jerked her back to wakefulness, her heart racing.

Yeonghu hadn’t slept at all. He remained a silent sentinel at the door, his eyes scanning the hallway beyond for any sign of movement. His face was drawn, the lines of exhaustion evident, but he never wavered. His focus was unrelenting, his determination as solid as the bat he held in his hand.

When Y/N finally sat up, her body stiff and sore, she found Yeonghu watching her with a quiet intensity.

“We need to move soon,” he said, his voice low. “The monsters will be more active at night. We have a better chance of getting out now.”

Y/N rubbed the sleep from her eyes, nodding in agreement. “Where do we go?”

“There’s another stairwell on the west side of the building,” Yeonghu explained. “It should lead us down to the ground floor. From there, we can try to find the others.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the thought of going back out into the darkness, but she knew they couldn’t stay here. Not forever. They had to keep moving.

“We’ll be careful,” Yeonghu added, as if sensing her hesitation. “But we have to try.”

Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Alright. Let’s go.”

They gathered their limited supplies—mostly makeshift weapons and the few remaining bottles of water they had found along the way—and headed for the door. Y/N’s leg still throbbed, but the rest had helped ease some of the pain. She could manage for now.

As they stepped into the hallway, the cold air hit her like a wave, chilling her to the bone. The building was eerily quiet, the oppressive silence only broken by the occasional distant scream or the low groans of the structure settling. Every shadow seemed to hold a hidden danger, every corner a potential deathtrap.

Yeonghu took the lead, his bat held tightly in his hand, his footsteps silent as he moved with practiced precision. Y/N followed closely, her heart pounding in her chest, her senses on high alert.

The stairwell wasn’t far, but every step felt like a lifetime. Y/N’s breath came in shallow gasps, her mind racing as she tried to focus on the task at hand. They had to make it to the others. They had to survive.

When they finally reached the stairwell, Yeonghu paused, listening intently for any signs of movement below. The darkness stretched down into the abyss, and Y/N could barely make out the faint outlines of the steps.

“It’s clear,” Yeonghu whispered, motioning for her to follow.

They descended the stairs slowly, their movements cautious and deliberate. The air grew colder the further they went, the musty stench of decay growing stronger.

As they reached the next landing, a sudden noise stopped them in their tracks.

A low growl echoed from the shadows below, followed by the unmistakable sound of shuffling footsteps.

Y/N’s heart leapt into her throat as she gripped her weapon tighter, her pulse racing. They weren’t alone.

Yeonghu’s eyes flicked to her, his expression grim.

“Get ready,” he whispered.

The fight for survival was far from over.