#treat me like my skittishness was an insult to them

[twst-drabbles]

I’m so mixed on the get along/hate thing because I feel like characters I wouldn’t like would like me whilst characters I do like would avoid me.

Like in theory I could get along with Ruggie, hes adorable and I’d love to pack extra snacks for him when making my lunch. But I know that I’m pushy and that he’s skittish so it’d take awhile to get him to be my friend.

Idia and I could be friends in the liking games/otaku department but he’s so negative and mopey that I’d either get annoyed or inadvertently let him ruin my own mood/excitement.

On the other side I would ignore Jade who would initially seem so boring to me until I see him in action and go “Huh he’s a pretty funny guy.” and then start to hang out with him. (Which is literally how I treated him in game so when I finally got around to raising his viginette levels and his voiceline said HE thought I was boring I cackled so loud. He’s now my number 1-3 as Leona and Floyd rotate spots with him) Floyd would be a somewhat friend as he causes too much trouble to hang around 24/7 but I’d still want to see some carnage. Just a little.

I feel like Riddle would kinda want to be my friend but hes way too strict for me to actively want to hang out with. Same with Vil.

Leona and Jamil would tolerate me in a “Some days I like you. Some days you annoy the shit out of me” sort of way but I imagine that they’d be wholly neutral towards me and I to them.

I would definitely be best buds with Epel and Jack though. Epel because I would encourage him to go full country boy whenever Vil isn’t around and Jack because he seems like the type to fold to people that persistently try to befriend him.

As long as Ruggie doesn't steal my food, he is safe.

Seriously though, just because Mr. "I need someone to put the spoon in my mouth" Leona wants my meaty sandwich doesn't mean I'm going to give it. Fuck off Ruggie. And if he does take it, you bet your bitches I'm chasing that fucker down. And if he manages to run away, I'm going to go to Vargas and tell him that Ruggie took away my lunch. Why Vargas? Food is a very important component of muscle building. You must have plenty of it if you wish to be of the physic that Vargas is. And I have many a mental problem that keeps me from eating as much as I should. And now I have an extra burden of having a student starving me of my lunch? Vargas will not like it one bit, especially if I add the bit of wanting to build up my stamina with meaty meals.

But if Ruggie doesn't, cause my meals are small so that sandwich would be all I have, then we're good. And skittish? Hmm, doesn't strike me as skittish so much as cautious. Ruggie has the patience of a saint for having to deal with Leona's lazy ass so having another pushy person in the group would probably be a bit much for him. Another headache to deal with. But, he will never say no to snacks and eventually his patience will grow to be able to deal with that.

Idiaaaaa, yeah he's a Debby Downer, and bitter. Real bitter. Like, he puts himself down a lot but he also puts people down. Idia's dug this hole into the ground and when anyone takes the chance to peer in, he hisses or grabs people and puts them in the pit he's in. Spiteful man. I know people like to categorize him as this sad, weepy little man full of anxiety, and he is, but he's also so protective of his ego he has to insult people to make himself feel better. Hence why he'd rather talk to people online rather than real life cause online you only ever see a sliver of what they're actually like. Because of the limited scope of time, you can shove your best qualities to the forefront while letting the rest be hidden behind. And most of the time, people are distracted by their interests so that helps Idia even more to hide away from his problems.

Riddle...I'd feel wouldn't take much notice honestly. Especially since he clearly comes from a place of both privileged and high expectations. I still remember his whole thing, looking down on our background and the insults to my family. Thing is, I'm...okay so I do have some issues with my anger. Not in the sense I yell and and throw destructive fits often, but in the sense that when it comes out, it's a whole fermentation of bottled up bitterness, little annoyances and horrid intrusive thoughts.

By that, I mean I would probably choke Riddle to get him to shut up. Which would probably trigger Riddle's memory of his own mother cause she is just that suffocating of a mother. You know, I should write that one day. I'll add the warnings obviously.

But yeah, same on that front, it be hard to hang out with him. And Vil.

Leona and Jamil, gotta catch them on a good day to deal with any antics.

[feminon]

Sometimes traumatized people express that they have qp attraction/desire a qp relationship because it's difficult to explain to people the reality of our needs and limitations as survivors of abuse/trauma especially if we are at an early/denial phase of our recovery. Telling someone "I would like a relationship that is not a 'serious' relationship" doesn't always cover that and often leaves us vulnerable, so yeah while qp as a term has some bad connotations in terms of the integrated slur+hetace people being freaks some do still have a use for it and it rly confuses me that its considered a term that just straightup shouldn't exist.

[it-happened-one-fic]

I have no idea if the requests are open or not I looked and there was nothing to say so I'm blindly asking (you can ignore it if you want) but I want to request headcones for Lilia, Maleus, Riddle and Rook for an O/S fem who is like Yui Komori, who is sweet, kind and a very nice person (you can insult her and she will still treat you kindly) but had to be a vampire sacrifice bride (and now she has a phobia of vampires, until it cost her approaching Lilia as he looked like one) she even has fangs

Thank you for the ask Anon, and sorry for the confusion! To be honest I’ve been trying to decide if I want to take requests down due to how busy school has been keeping me. But since you got your request in before any decisions were made or anything was changed I was thrilled to receive your request. It is my first one after all! I did my best, but to be honest I’ve never watched Diabolik Lovers so my knowledge regarding Yui Komori is limited. I’ve also never written for Rook or Lilia and have never written head-canons so this post is a lot of firsts! I hope you enjoy! Head-canons under the cut due to length.

Type: Head-canons/Fluff/comfort

Lilia

Honestly so sad when you seemed to be afraid of him

Please don’t be afraid, he would never hurt you.

The only time he has really pushed you about anything was when he was getting you so you weren’t afraid of him. Yes, he did enlist Silver’s help. He was a little desperate.

Very gentle with you. He understands your fears and respects them. You have every right to fear vampires. Despite loving to pick on people he would never tease you about this.

He’ll ask a few questions about your past, but as he learns how traumatic it was he’ll pull back and let you tell him on your own time. He doesn’t want to push too hard and cause you to relive something unpleasant.

In fact he wants to help you recover from your experience. It’s a primary focus for him.

To that end, he stands up for you. Advises you that there is no need to take such abuse from anyone. 

That said, he understands your timid nature and won’t push the subject too much. He’ll encourage you to stand up for yourself, but also look out for you himself. Probably also asks Silver to look out for you too.

Either way it's handled and you are well-protected.

Big on hugs so brace yourself there. He is very affectionate. 

Please play games with him. He’ll be over the moon and only picks games that won’t scare you for your gaming sessions.

He genuinely thinks you are the sweetest thing and constantly refers to you as a cutie.

Also finds your little fangs so cute. You match and he lives for it.

Generally very patient with you and your timid skittish nature. But don’t worry, he’s still playful. Just controlled in his playfulness.

Malleus

Please, please, PLEASE don’t flinch away from this boy. He is so used to people being scared of him, it would kill him if you were too.

Finds your timid, gentle, and sweet nature charming.

To be blunt, he’s smitten.

He actually approached you initially because you have fangs and he thought you might be fae like him. Was a little disappointed when you weren’t. Don;t worry, he got over it.

Is honestly angry when he hears about your past. How dare they treat you in such a fashion.

He assures you that you’ll never have to suffer in such a way ever again. He’ll make sure of that.

Also encourages you to trust Lilia. The old fart might be a rascal, but he would never hurt you.

Won’t stand for you being walked over or looked down on and will stand up for you. Will also encourage you to stand up for yourself, but will understand if you are just too skittish to do so.

He’s got this, his scary reputation has its uses after all. All he has to do is shoot them a look and whoever is bothering you runs for the hills.

He just, really adores you and the fact you are with him despite your timid nature. It really sends him over the moon.

Also, cute couple points. Dark looming fellow with a timid girlfriend that hides behind him.

It destroys him when you hide behind him. You really are just too cute. It’s bad for his heart.

Riddle

So, so good. He takes such good care of you while also being his stiff, slightly awkward self.

His awkwardness is actually really good for you in a weird way. He isn’t likely to push too far with affectionate acts and he’s really patient.

Sets up an entire set of rules between the two of you so that he doesn’t cross any lines.

Rule # 1: No neck kisses. He doesn’t want to scare you.

Was honestly so mad when he found out about your past. He went red-faced and everything. Didn’t calm down till he realized he was scaring you a teensy bit.

Was so gentle after that.

Your timid nature is such a good fit for him. It really helps him to calm down and lose his temper less. He doesn’t want to scare you.

Less huggy than the other people on this list because he really doesn’t want to upset you. He could never take seeing you get scared because of him.

However, as he gets more confident and learns what does and doesn’t upset you he will cuddle on occasion.

Cute couple #2. Cater is totally taking pictures of you two and posting them with sappy hashtags.

Rook

Heartbroken when he hears about your past. Immediately goes in for a hug. It’s comfort time with Rook.

Like Lilia, he doesn’t question too much. He would rather you tell him about your past at your own pace.

Adores your kind but timid nature. You’re like a little bunny, albeit a fanged one. So innately sweet and adorable, but also so, so skittish. 

Hence why he calls you “Mon Lapin.”

Careful with affection lest he distress you, but don’t worry. You are still cuddled, kissed, and hugged profusely.

Man can’t help it.

Constantly tells you how beautiful and precious you are with French sprinkled throughout his grandiose declarations.

Also, I hope you like poetry dedicated and read aloud to you.

You’re probably going to end up getting embarrassed and blushing a lot so heads up. Brace yourself reader.

[haloshornsinkstains]

Why Wouldn’t I?

I’m not dead. And I bring you ~3500 words of Eddie x f!reader omegaverse smut. I’m not even the slightest bit sorry.

WARNINGS: female reader, omegaverse/abo dynamics, heat cycles (possible dubcon), PIV sex.

“So, what’s all the commotion about?” Eddie asked, taking his usual place at the table. Gareth hummed, nodding his head toward the jocks clustered around their table. “You mean those guys? There’s a new student, rumour is they’re an omega.” Eddie perked up a little. “Oh? Tell me more.” Jeff sighed. “I think I know who it is, walked past the Principal’s office earlier and there was some girl in there I’d never seen before.” “That would explain why the meatheads are all up in arms over it.” Gareth sighed. “Still, pretty weird to be moving this late into the year. And they’re probably a Junior if they’ve presented,” Eddie mused “could be a good story there…” “Some of the people in my year have started presenting, they could be a Sophomore!” Jeff protested. “Man, I am not looking forward to next year.” Gareth groaned, burying his head in his arms. “Enjoy your freedom while you have it my friend, from here on out it’s all secondary gender cliques and hormones.” Eddie chuckled. “Well, at least you’re used to the cliques already.” Jeff laughed, slapping him on the back. “Just gotta make it through this year and I’m out of here.” Eddie sighed.  “Sure you do, we’ve all seen your grades. But look at it this way, it means an extra year with the new omega.” “And us!” The air in the cafeteria shifted all of a sudden, followed by the creak of the door opening. Eddie watched with feigned disinterest as the new student walked in, she didn’t look like an omega, she wasn’t skittish like the ones in his year had been when they presented. If he couldn’t smell her he’d have pegged her for a beta. Maybe she’d be more fun than any of the others, she didn’t seem like the type to only look for a strong alpha to defend her. His hopes faltered a little as she stepped towards the jocks table, where they were posing and throwing comments her way, though her smile looked a lot more like a snarl than he was expecting.  Tommy Hagan, apparently fancying his chances, took a step towards her. Instead of swooning over him, she slapped away his hand and stalked off.  Eddie grinned. “Y’know, repeating senior year might not be so bad.”

You paused just outside the cafeteria door. You could practically feel the testosterone seeping through the wood, the scent of alphas trying to posture was sickening.  You didn’t hate being an omega, truthfully you hadn’t given it much thought, but times like this you would almost be tempted to. Bracing yourself you pushed through the door, wrinkling your nose at the smell that assaulted your nostrils as you did.  “Steve didn’t tell us she was a looker” “come on pretty omega, we’ll take care of you” “come sit with us baby” The calls coming from the table of alphas started almost immediately, typical. Rolling your eyes you started to walk past them, looking for a quiet place to take a seat.  You even flashed a snarl their way for good measure as they continued to call out to you. Clearly one of them really didn’t get the message, pushing himself to his feet and walking towards you. “Come on little omega, be a good girl and come sit with us. We’ll treat you right, won’t we guys?” He reached out a hand towards you, looking to grab onto your arm and pull you to the table. You snarled and smacked his hand away before it could connect, baring your teeth at him. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” You stalked off, trying to block out the sound of their insults as you looked for somewhere to go. On your way you scented another alpha and you turned to look in the direction of the smell, this one wasn’t posturing or calling out to you, though he was still watching. Relieved you smiled at him, heart fluttering in your chest when he flashed a bright smile back in your direction. Swallowing down your instincts to go to him you kept walking, finally settling on a quiet table at the far end of the room.

For the first week Eddie was content with just watching you. Smiling back every time you shot a smile his way, and doing his best to ignore the jibes his fellow D&D players threw his way.  Dan, one of his fellow seniors, elbowed him hard in the side one day, after he was busy spacing out over you reading a book for way too long. “You know, you could just go and talk to her. Instead of staring at her like some kind of stalker.” He laughed, shaking his head. “You saw how she reacted to Tommy the first day, something tells me she’s not fond of alphas coming up to her.” He groaned.  “I’m pretty sure she just wasn’t fond of Tommy.” Dan sighed. “But if you’re that worried, I have an idea.” Eddie glanced at him, frowning slightly. “Oh no, no you don’t.” Dan just nodded at Gareth, grabbing hold of Eddie’s arm and tugging him back into his seat as the younger boy darted across the cafeteria towards you. Eddie tried to shout after him, but the words were muffled by hands across his mouth. Instead, he had to watch in horror as Gareth reached you, gesturing towards their table with a dopey grin. He watched as you laughed, oh god, you were laughing at him. But then you stood up, and you were walking towards them. If the others hadn’t been holding him in place Eddie was pretty sure he would have dived under the table to hide. Instead he watched with mounting horror as you approached, still smiling, and took a seat at their table. He was so caught up in his terror that he didn’t even hear the jibes and insults being hurled at you as you sat down. For a moment all his senses were just filled with omega and the sight of you smiling back at him. “You know, you could have asked me yourself. I don’t bite.” You chuckled, eyes still on him. “I uh..” Eddie ran his hand through his hair nervously, “Uh… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You tilted your head, considering him carefully. “Because you’re a ‘freak’-” you made little air quotes with your fingers “-or because you’re an alpha?” “Well…” Eddie glanced at the others for support, only to find them grinning at him, “you didn’t seem too fond of Tommy.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Was that his name? I don’t like being manhandled by strangers, especially strangers like that. But you’re alright, unless this is some scheme?” “N-no! You just, well…” “You looked lonely sat there all by yourself, though Gar probably should have warned you that sitting with us isn’t going to win you any popularity points with the rest of them.” Dan cut in, finally taking pity on their DM. You waved him off with a shake of your hand. “If I’d wanted to join any of their little groups I’d have tried it by now.” “So-” Ted, the other senior in their little group, cut in “do you play D&D?” “No. But I’d like to, if you’re willing to take a complete newbie?” Finally Eddie was smiling again, nodding happily as he launched into an explanation of the game and when their party met up. Even offering to help you set up a character if you didn’t mind coming over early.

Things continued that way the rest of the week. Eddie was still a little awkward around you, at least until you got him onto the topic of D&D or music, but the rest of the group accepted you happily. Even teasing you about your ‘mothering’ of Gareth, the assigned baby of the group. The first D&D session you joined really cemented your place in their little gang of ‘freaks’. Eddie had been so nervous in your presence while he explained the rules, helping you put together a half-elf thief that would fit nicely in their little group of warriors and wizards, that you almost felt guilty for forcing your presence on him like this. But when the game started you soon forgot all that. Eddie really came alive in the role of Dungeon Master, every word well crafted and his movements graceful and wild. The story came alive with him, his voice changing to suit the role of whomever he was playing, smile at once wicked and joyful. You couldn’t help the quiet purr you let out watching him, though you blushed furiously when he shot you a surprised glance. Thrilled by your first game you vowed to join them for as long as they’d have you, staying behind to help tidy up. Just as Eddie was packing away the last of his things and you were preparing for the long walk home he turned to you. “Hey, do you need a lift? It’s, well, I’m sure you’re fine but it’s dangerous walking around after dark.” The words came out as a jumble, his hand running through his air anxiously as he tried to look anywhere but at your face. “If it’s not too far out of your way? I heard there were some disappearances so I’ve got this spray, but I’d feel safer with you.” You cursed yourself for how omega you sounded, you were supposed to be stronger than this. But the stories of people vanishing not long before you’d moved here really did make you nervous. “Yeah, it’s no problem. Wayne doesn’t much care what time I get back as long as I’m not in trouble. Hell, he’d probably congratulate me,” his cheeks flushed slightly, fingers absentminded fiddling with his rings, “so, where’s home?” “Um, do you know the Forest Hills Trailer Park?” You mumbled, now your turn to be embarrassed. “If it’s too far out of your way that’s okay.” “No way! That’s where Wayne’s trailer is too, how did I not know you’d moved in?” He was bouncing on the balls of his feet now, energetically happy once again. “This way my lady, your chariot awaits!” Giggling to yourself you followed after him, happily singing along with him to his music as he drove you back to the trailer park. Pulling up outside his place he gestured towards the trailer. “My humble abode. Can you get back from here?” You nodded, pointing towards the row of trailers opposite. “Yeah, I’m just past that row there.” Eddie opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but shook his head when you paused. You waited patiently, tilting your head slightly as you waited for him to continue. “Um, I was just thinking… you don’t have to, but if you ever get bored you could, i don’t know, come hang out?” You gifted him with the brightest smile he’d ever seen, eyes practically sparkling and a soft purr rumbling in your throat. “I’d like that. I’ll see you around Munson.” Eddie sat and watched you leave, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself after you disappeared into the darkness before leaving his van. That night his dreams were full of a tough little omega with a shining smile.

The year went on and all too soon it was graduation, and the members of the Hellfire Club were thoroughly tired of you and Eddie dancing around each other. With Eddie failing to graduate this year the younger members found themselves begging the graduating two to do something about it. The something being Ted and Dan dragging Eddie off to tell him to do something, while he protested that omegas don’t like him. “This one does, clearly.” Dan hissed, “she wouldn’t have hung around you for a whole year if she didn’t.” “Come on man, girls don’t like me, no one likes me. I’m Eddie the Freak remember?” Ted smacked him on the back of the head. “Stop being dense. We’ve all heard her purring at you.” “But…” “No buts! If you two aren’t together by this time next year I’m officially telling everyone you cried while watching-” “Fine! Fine! But I’m telling you, she isn’t interested.” Dan laughed, patting his friend on the back. “Sure dude, and I’m not graduating today. Just remember what I said, I don’t back down from promises.” Eddie winced but nodded, glancing back towards the mass of students in their graduation robes. “Come on, we should get back.” If anyone noticed how you made a beeline right to Eddie’s side they didn’t mention it, though he caught more than a couple of knowing looks thrown his way by the rest of the gang.

Senior year, it turned out, wasn’t all that different from Junior year. The classes were the same, though with more mention of exams than before, the Hellfire Club still ran their campaigns, though now on the lookout for new members, and Hawkins, it seemed, rarely changed. The only real difference were the additional health classes on secondary genders, this time focusing on heats and ruts. They didn’t usually start until after 18, but much in the same way some people presented early or late, the heats and ruts could hit soon. Heats first, they triggered all on their own, whereas an alpha’s first rut was usually triggered by an omega in heat. You grimaced, great, this could blindside you at any time. At least the school nurse kept a supply of suppressants on hand. You left that particular class praying you were one of the late bloomers.

You wouldn’t be so lucky. A few weeks past your 18th birthday, you awoke in an empty trailer to a burning fever. You tried to ignore it, writing it off as illness brought on by the changing of the weather. You could skip school, it wouldn’t be the first time, you thought as you curled up in your bed again.  Barely an hour later you were rudely awoken by the cramps starting. You cursed into the bedding, belatedly noticing you’d formed a nest around you in your sleep. “No. No. This can’t be happening.” You whined, curling into a ball and feeling the wetness start to slide down your legs.  The feeling was almost unbearable. Being around Eddie made your chest flutter and sometimes something clench low in your stomach but this, this was everything turned up way past eleven. You whimpered, trying to resist the urge to move your hand down between your legs to lessen the ache. You could sleep through this, you told yourself, wake up and find it was all just a horrible nightmare. “Hey, you coming to school?”  Your head snapped up at the sound of Eddie outside your trailer. You couldn’t let him see you like this, scared of what he might think of you. “I can’t, m’sick.” You called back, barely biting back a whimper. “You need anything?” You grit your teeth against a fresh wave of cramps, thankful that the trailer was at least keeping your scent from leaking out. This time you couldn’t keep the whimpering at bay, the pain stabbing at your insides. “I’m coming in.” He called, and you heard him fiddling with the lock on the door.   “No. No, you can’t!” But it was too late, there was the familiar sound of the door clicking and the creaking of the hinges as it opened. You could sense him as soon as he stepped inside, all of your instincts screaming ‘alpha’ and begging you to go with him. Instead you curled up tighter in your makeshift nest, biting back the whimpers and mewls that tried to force themselves past your lips. He’d only got a few steps inside before he sniffed the air, and you heard the door slam hard behind him. You breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he’d left, only to hear footsteps coming closer to you again. “Is this…?” You whimpered again, nodding your head. “It hurts Eddie.” He crouched beside the bed and you cracked your eyes open to look at him, already flushed and breathing heavy just from being stuck with you for a few moments.  “I could… I mean, um, I could help? We’re supposed to be able to…” You blinked at him, wide eyed and struck silent by your surprise. Eddie took your silence as rejection, his eyes dropping to the floor as he ran a hand through his hair. “Ah no, of course you wouldn’t want… I shouldn’t have asked.” As he started to back away you reached out, grabbing for his jacket. “Please, please stay.” He stared down, equally as shocked by your behaviour as you were, his other hand coming up to rest over yours. “You want me?”  “If you’re okay with someone like me. A -ah shit!-” you whimpered, dropping his arm and clutching your stomach. Slowly he crawled into your nest, wrapping his body around yours and rumbling a purr against your shoulder. You whined, baring your neck and pressing back against him, the sound of his groan echoing in your ears. “Are… fuck you smell so good… are you sure?” He asked, voice sounding strained with the effort of holding back.  “Yes, please please Eddie. Alpha.” He groaned again, his hips bucking against you and pressing his erection into your back. You whimpered again, trying to spread your legs for him but finding them trapped between his own. He hummed, nuzzling against your neck and breathing in your scent for a moment before turning you in his arms, until you were staring wide eyed back at him. He bent his face towards yours, lips hovering just above your own as if asking for permission. In answer you craned your neck forwards, pressing your lips against his insistently. Eddie rumbled in approval, hands coming up to twist in your hair as his tongue pressed into your mouth. You whimpered, rocking your hips against his in a desperate attempt to get some relief.  Eddie growled, pulling back on your hair. “Ah, be a good girl and let me prepare you.” You watched, wide eyed and shocked as he pushed you onto your back and slowly crawled down between your legs. “Have you, um, this before?” you whispered, unsure why the thought made your heart squeeze painfully. He glanced up from his position between your thighs, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Ah no, but I might have read some stuff.” You nodded nervously, watching as he slowly pulled your shorts down your legs, throwing an arm across your face in embarrassment as he started at you in wonder. When his fingers trailed up the inside of your thigh you squeaked, hips instinctively rocking up towards him.  “So wet. This all for me princess?” He purred, his words sending sparks right to your most sensitive areas. When his tongue lapped against your slit you swore you saw stars, head falling back against the bed as his mouth worked on you. You could feel your body tensing, muscles trembling with some unseen force. When he finally slipped a finger inside you you cried out, hips arching up towards him, simultaneously begging for more and whimpering from all the stimulation. You lost track of what happened after that, you only knew the electric sensation that rippled through your body. When you came back to reality Eddie was no longer between your thighs, instead lying next to you and palming himself through his boxers. “You back with me princess?” He chuckled, gently running a hand up and down your side. “What… what was that?” you panted, trying not to stare at the bulge in his pants. “That was me warming you up.” He grinned, eyes still dark with lust. “Now, my lady, are you sure you want this?” You whimpered, nodding feverishly, and trying to move towards him. Eddie stopped you with a hand on your chest, pressing you back down into the mattress. “I need you to say it princess. Come on.” “Please Eddie, need you, wanted you so long.” It was those four words that broke him, near ordering you to take your top off while he feverishly shucked off his clothes.You almost drooled when you finally saw him, eyes tracing across his tattoos down to the thick cock that stood between his legs, already glistening even in the dim light of the trailer. “So big,” you breathed, barely even realising you’d said it out loud. Eddie grinned at you sheepishly, before crawling over you, caging your head between his arms. Resting his weight on one forearm he lined himself up with your entrance, carefully pressing into you. The slow pace was torturous for both of you, but he was determined not to let it hurt, even while you whined and begged for him. Finally he bottomed out, pressing his forehead against yours as he paused for you to adjust (and, in truth, to calm himself down). It was only when you started wriggling against him that he began to move. He tried to go slowly, he really did, but your scent was getting to him and soon his instincts took over, pounding into you as you keened and begged for more. It wasn’t long before a second orgasm ripped through you and it took all he had not to come right there, as you clenched around him, seeming to try and milk him dry then and there. With a pained sound he pulled out of you, chest clenching when you nearly sobbed from the loss. He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he rocked against you, seeking the last bit of friction he needed. As he came, spurting across your stomach, his teeth latched into your neck, marking you as his. 

Afterwards he lay panting beside you, turning his head slightly as you gently pressed your fingers against the mark on your neck. “Shit. I’m so… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, giving you what could only be described as sad puppy eyes. “No. No, it’s fine. I like it.” You murmured, still touching the mark. “You do?” You turned your eyes towards him, surprised by the shock you saw there. Eddie was staring at you as if you’d made some great revelation. “You mean that?” His voice was barely above a whisper. You blinked back at him. “Why wouldn’t I?” Grinning, he threw his arms around you, burying his face back into your neck and nuzzling against the mark he’d left there.

[twiceasfrustrating]

I'm sorry if I already requested this of you I honestly have the memory of a walnut. But can I request headcannons of the boys + dia who find out MC has an emotionally abusive husband? Like fluff with some murder maybe?

thank you

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: abusive relationship mentioned, some are a bit murdery, I don't know how to write fluff for such a situation but I tried

A/N: If you are in an abusive situation in the USA and need to speak to someone, please call 1-800-799-7233. If you cannot call, you can also text “START” to 88788. If it is safe for you, you can also go to the website directly. Abuse takes many forms, but it is always about control.

Feel free to add the numbers/contact for other countries if you have them.

Lucifer

He got upset at MC once and they flinched when he yelled and they started apologizing like there was no tomorrow. That was how he found out something was wrong. They wouldn’t say anything, but he could tell that something was deeply wrong. Perhaps he had never noticed before the formation of their pact how MC shuddered around him whenever he got upset, but now he did.

He is very careful not to yell again and when he does he is quick to lower his voice the second MC shows distress, reassuring them that he is not angry at them and would not harm them. It sounds almost hollow after how he acted when they originally met, but he means it.

There was one time MC dropped a dish on the floor while cooking and it broke, spilling hot food everywhere. They started picking up the pieces in a hurry, not even paying attention to how the hot shards burned and cut up their hands.

Lucifer was quick to pick them up off the ground and tend to the fresh injuries, all while they kept apologizing and saying that they would clean it up as soon as they could and saying they would make something else. Lucifer forbade them from doing either and cleaned the mess himself. He did that a lot. Took care of their ‘mistakes’ and cared for them. They would almost believe he wasn't the same terrifying man they had first met.

It takes a long time for MC to get used to their new relationship with Lucifer and once they do they are far more comfortable and less skittish.

He is not pressuring the story out of them. He can wait, as difficult as it is, for them to open up. However, he is no fool. He knows who is to blame, and that man should be very afraid should Lucifer and he ever meet.

Mammon

MC always spoke so well of their husband when they first met the brothers. Mammon was actually jealous and wished MC would talk about him that way. They would always say how kind their husband was and how he loved them and how he wanted the best for them. It sounded like some kind of cheesy romance novel.

Things started to get weird though when he and MC started to get even closer. He would invite them out, only to hear “I don’t think my husband would like that” or “I shouldn’t be alone with you”. It was weird the first time, but it quickly became a pattern. A very worrying pattern. Mammon knew abuse when he saw it. He was the family butt monkey and a witch punching bag, after all.

The difference is that he’s a fallen angel that is used to such treatment and, as a demon, the things done to him do very little in the long run. Humans are far more fragile though; their minds, bodies, and hearts. And then Mammon started to hate MC’s husband with a passion that could not be matched.

He cared less about making that bastard pay and more about taking care of MC. Such treatment can ruin a person, especially good people like MC. He would do anything to show them that they deserved better than that man, whatever that eventually meant.

Leviathan

He and MC have a little too much in common for his taste. It is actually almost disgusting how little self-worth they seem to have, but he can also see how that was trained into them.

They play down their worth a lot: “It’s nothing”, “It could be better”, “I failed again”, etc. They never say anything positive about themself. They are really good at picking out their flaws, but almost incapable of pointing out their merits.

It goes against everything Levi believes in, but he has to start praising them since they won’t praise themself. He likes hanging out with them, the stuff they make is nice, they are a really quick learner. It feels weird to praise someone, but it’s nice to see MC start to feel a little better about all the things they do.

Although, he also has the mild thought of showing MC’s husband that there are more terrifying things in the world than the horrors a human is capable of. After all, Levi has seen the monsters that dwell in the deep; he is one of those monsters and there is a reason humans fear the darkest depths.

Satan

There are some wonderful upsides to being the avatar of wrath. Normally, Satan wouldn't be so crass as to give into them, but sometimes humanity is just so vile that he can't help himself.

One of those upsides is a mind filled to the brim with the instinctual desire to rip and tear anything he can get his hands on to pieces. It's an instinct he fights off constantly with his centuries of training and self-discovery, but just this once he doesn't mind becoming the beast he was born as.

MC's husband squeals like a stuck pig throughout the entire night, only the winds, spiders, and Satan being able to hear and appreciate the sound. And appreciate it he does, until the screaming stops and his hands are drenched with blood.

He really needs to get himself cleaned off before he sees MC again, otherwise they will be terrified. He needs to look his best when they come running to him worried about their missing husband. It’s sad how much they worry about him despite everything.

Asmodeus

MC was always so calm and docile when he wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t really get it at first but it was easier to dress them up and take them out, so he didn’t question it. At least, not until someone (read: Solomon) not so subtly pointed out that it is unusual for someone to be so passive, almost to the point of being doll-like.

Asmo didn’t believe it at first. How could anyone treat someone as sweet as MC so cruelly, especially someone that is supposed to love them? But from that day onward, his eyes were opened up and he started to notice things.

The way they didn’t put forth their own opinions and let him take the lead on everything, how they stuck close to him when they both went out, the subtle way their fingers reached out then drew back when they liked something.

“Do you like it?” He would ask and their response was “do you?”

It was so difficult to get them to start putting their own wants and desires above what they thought he’d like. When they showed interest in something, he would fawn all over it. If they liked something, he liked it too. He would buy them things they even glanced casually at, told them they were worthwhile and lovely, anything that other man would never say to them.

He tore them down so completely, but Asmo would work tirelessly to build them back up.

Beelzebub

He is the softest man in the world, and sometimes MC just lets things slip out. He’s very easy to open up to and they don’t think about what they say. He was the first person that they opened up to about what was happening to them.

Suffice it to say, Beel was shocked when they mentioned how terrified they were for the exchange program to end. Despite everything that they had been through over the past year, they didn’t want to go back.

Beel had only felt so powerless one other time in his life. He couldn’t go with them to protect them and they couldn’t stay in the Devildom forever to stay safe. It was painfully cruel just how much he couldn’t help them.

All he could do was hold them and listen to them get everything off of their chest, dreading the day that the exchange program would end.

MC has to hurry up and learn how to summon him, because he wants to keep them safe from that awful situation. He would never allow another person it the world to hurt them again.

Belphegor

Belphie likes exactly one human in the three realms and every other one is none of his concern. Or, they wouldn’t be his concern if it weren’t for the fact that the one human he cared about was the victim of this particular instance.

He’s not like some of his other brothers. He doesn’t do comfort and he isn’t the best at torture, prefering to get everything over with quickly so he doesn’t have to expend all the extra energy. But, for such a special occasion, he is more than willing to put in the effort.

Humans really do create their own worst fears. Their minds run a mile a minute and they have the strangest way of finding how their own terrors can overpower what little defenses they have.

He may not be able to touch MC’s husband, but he can certainly return every slight against his favorite human. Long, sleepless nights wracked with unending horrors that only that man can truly appreciate.

All the while, he will gladly hold MC when their own nightmares overtake them, trying to put their mind at ease for just this moment. How he wished that his powers could control the waking world as well as their dreams...

Diavolo

“Don’t go back.” It was the first time Diavolo had brought up the idea. It was one he had been considering for a long time, knowing that it was extreme given that MC was a human and had to live in the human realm. However, he couldn’t live with himself knowing the kind of life MC would return to once they left.

The shouting, the insults, discarding everything MC liked because their husband doesn’t care for it… Diavolo would never feel right knowing he sent someone dear to him back there.

He had the means to help them get literally anywhere but back to that man. Diavolo could help set them free from that life, even if they didn’t want to stay in the Devildom. He knew MC would have the support of everyone they had met.

All they had to do was say yes and he would move the Devildom itself to get them out of there.

[sigmaleph]

@serinemolecule asked me for hot takes on this 2006 article on Argentinian food, which I am now reorganising into a proper post for y'all's consumption. you're welcome.

First of all: the titular thesis that you should eat two steaks a day. I am forced to clarify that as 'should's go you should eat zero steaks a day, but this is ethical rather dietary advice and I don't follow it as well as I should, so, y'know. I would engage with this on the level it was stated, but I actually have no opinion on it. Moving on...

Argentine beef really is extraordinary. Almost all of this has to do with how the cows are raised. There are no factory feedlots in Argentina; the animals still eat pampas grass their whole lives, in open pasture, and not the chicken droppings and feathers mixed with corn that pass for animal feed in the United States.

This is, as it happens, completely false. There absolutely is plenty of feedlot beef being eaten in Argentina, and this was also the case back when this article was written. There's grass-fed beef too, and maybe the writer structured their life around only eating those, but the claim that there are no feedlots is just not true.

if you let them make the call, you get a two-inch thick of meat[...]The Argentine steak stands alone, towering three inches over the plate,[...]This gorgeous specimen is called a lomito; it's a standard lunchtime steak, clearly so thin that the Argentines are embarrassed to send it out into the world without a protective wrapping of ham and cheese

I have no idea what their obsession with steak thickness is; meat exists at various levels of thick and thin to suit various tastes. If you like yours thick that's fine but quit the projecting, y'know.

As you might expect, vegetarians will have a somewhat rough time here. For most people in Argentina, a vegetarian is something you eat. One's diet will accordingly lean heavily on pastas, gnocchi, salads, and (for the less squeamish ) fish. Vegans will not survive in Argentina.

This is, unfortunately, true (well, hyperbole, but). Rinna had a rather bad time trying to find vegan food when fae came over for visits. The situation is improving slowly, at least.

The homemade cookies bought in the minimarket downstairs taste of steak. [picture of alfajores de maicena[

Jesus. Find somewhere better to buy your snacks.

It should be no surprise that the land of beef also has excellent milk and butter. The milk comes in plastic bags that would give any American marketing department a heart attack. They proudly advertise "GUARANTEED 100% BRUCELLOSIS AND HOOF-AND-MOUTH FREE". One brand even brags that its bacteria count never exceeds 100,000 per mL, and prints daily statistics to prove it (only 82,000 bacteria/mL on Monday! mmm!).

Are you under the impression American milk doesn't contain bacteria and that when it spoils it's because of the molecules' sheer willpower? Or do you just object to the reminder that they exist?

This menu is delicious, but with rare exceptions it is all you are going to get. People coming for more than a few weeks are advised to bring a discreet bottle of Tabasco sauce.

Eat at better restaurants.

With any order from the master menu comes the Bread Basket, which should be treated as you would treat a basket of wax fruit, that is, as a purely decorative ornament. It is considered bad form to actually eat anything from Bread Basket

What are you talking about. Do all your dining companions just suck, eat some bread.

Dulce de leche is a culinary cry for help. It says "save us, we are baffled and alone in the kitchen, we don't know what to do for dessert and we're going to boil condensed milk and sugar together until help arrives". This cloying dessert tar is so impossibly sweet that you wish you were ten years old again, just so you could actually enjoy it. It is everywhere. There is a special dulce de leche shelf in the supermarket dairy case, and the containers go up to a liter in size. Even the churros are stuffed with it - the churros, Montresor!

It is rare that I feel insulted for the sake of my country, but this? How dare you.

Yes, of course we fill churros with dulce de leche; the real question is why anyone doesn't, short of dietary restrictions. Finding out that people do otherwise was like learning that in other countries, "sandwich" just means two slices of bread. Live a little. Eat a real godsdamned churro.

I spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out how meals work in Argentina, and they remain a mystery to me. Dinner is clear enough: people tend to go to restaurants beginning at ten o'clock (for those with small children), with the main rush around eleven, and dinner is pretty much over at one or so in the morning. And breakfast - or rather, its absence - follows as a logical consequence of eating a steak the size of a beagle at midnight. But I have yet to figure out whether people eat some kind of meal in the afternoon, and if so, when.

At... noon? Like. We eat lunch. Usually somewhere around 12:00. I am eating lunch right now, and I have done so essentially every day of my life. This is just baffling.

I've come to think the culprit in the missing Argentine lunch scene is yerba mate.

how.

Where the ignorant foreigner may see just another kind of herbal tea (yerba mate is a very unassuming shrub that grows in the northern parts of the country) the Argentine sees a taste treat of unimaginable subtlety, and a tonic for all his problems. The Wikipedia article on proper mate preparation should give you a warning of the level of obsessiveness attainable here (the Urugayans are even worse). To the virgin palate, mate tastes like green tea mixed with grass clippings. The beverage is traditionally drunk out of a little gourd, through a metal straw called a bombilla, with hot (but not boiling!!) water poured into it (without wetting the surface!! clockwise!!) from a thermos.

Yeah, this is accurate. Well, not the clockwise part, never heard anyone complain about that and I can't imagine it mattering.

What distinguishes mate from coffee and tea is the social context - two or more people share a gourd, with a designated pourer in charge of refilling it with hot water after each turn. The ritual is low-fuss but indispensible. You can buy mate gourds and thermoses in any grocery store, and get your thermos filled with hot water at any convenience store or gas station, but you will never see mate served in restaurants or sold in little disposable paper gourds, to go. it's not that people refuse to drink mate alone - anyone working a solitary shift will have a gourd in hand - but that the concept of being served mate by someone who does not share it with you seems impossible.

This is also true. Attempts have been made to sell to-go mate but it's never very popular, the social ritual is important. Also unfortunately a disease vector, I haven't had any mate in a year and a half.

Mate aficionados will tell you that mate contains a special compound, mateine, that serves as a tonic and mild stimulant, promoting alertness without making it hard to sleep, reducing fatigue and appetite, helping the digestion and serving as a mild diuretic. Scientists will tell you that mateine bears a suspicious resemblance to a chemical called caffeine. Mate aficionados will then grow indignant, explaining that mateine is really a stereoisomer (mirror image) of caffeine, with different effects, which will in turn irritate the scientists, who will snap that caffeine doesn't have a chiral center, so it can't have a distinguishable mirror image, and why don't the mate aficionados just put a sock in it.

The first part of this is true; some people definitely think "mateine" is different from caffeine and it absolutely isn't. Never heard the stereoisomer claim before but googling it does confirm some people say so.

still have no idea what any of this has to do with lunch, though. I promise you nobody skips lunch because mate is just too filling.

The wine here is very good (something has to stand up to that steak), but Argentina has no liquor to call its own, relying on whiskies like Old Smuggler and the low-maintenance Don Juan cognac to carry the flag.

There's a fundamental omission from this list and it's called fernet.

Beer is ubiquitous and comes in a bewildering variety of sizes, although there is a skittishness about the full-on liter. Things level off at 970 mL. In my case, it means I end up drinking 1940 mL of beer as a kind of personal protest, and all is well with the world. To make up for the abundance of sizes, beer comes in only one variety, Quilmes, which inevitably comes served with a tripartite platter of snacks - nuts, salty cylinders, and aged potato chips.

I never had trouble buying beer by the litre, but I confess I never tried to do so in 2006 on account of being under 18 at the time.

Anyway, beer comes in a lot more varieties today, thankfully, because Quilmes sucks. I'll never be a beer person, but at least these days there's options I tolerate.

[original post]

[crystalessenceswrites]

So, this ask kind of popped into my head? What if Boba finds you missing only to find out that you went to confront Koska Reeves or Bo Katan for how they treated him? When he finds you, you're hurt and upset and you tell him that no one should speak to him like that and you tell him you love him? <3

Oh my goodness. I absolutely love this and I really hope I did it justice! Thank you so much for sharing this idea with me!!

You weren’t one to wander off, especially in a strange space port right before the rag tag team the Mandalorian was putting together was set to leave. So, when Fennec confirms you had yet to return to the ship, panic settles over Boba. You were not a mercenary or a bounty hunter, and while he had taught you how to protect yourself and how to use a blaster, you still weren’t meant for a fight. Boba did everything in his power to keep you from any situation that would put you in harms way. He’d be damned if he let anything happen to you.

Fennec reassures him that you could not have gone far, and it was more than likely you’d gotten distracted by something at the market and were already on your way back to the ship. They split up anyways, to cover more ground as they head out to find you. Boba’s thankful it does not take long, the weight on his chest lifting when he finds you sitting, knees curled up to your chest behind the cantina. It’s instantly replaced with rage as he takes note of your puffy, red eyes. Tears stain your cheeks as you sit, sniffing and hiccupping.

“Mesh’la?” Boba moves slowly, kneeling at your side, one hand held out. “What happened?”

Your eyes go wide, watching him with the skittish nature of a frightened animal. Boba will end whoever’s made you feel this way. “Boba…”

“It’s alright,” he slowly sets his hand on your knee, thumb rubbing soothing circles there, “I’m right here, cyare. You can tell me what happened.”

Another sob wracks your form as you look up to his gaze behind the dark visor. “I’m sorry Boba…”

What did you have to be sorry for? Boba shakes his head, “you have nothing to apologize for.” He coaxes again, cupping your cheek in his gloved hand, brushing away the tears, “tell me what happened.”

“I wanted to confront Bo Katan and the other Mandalorian about what they said to you…” you voice is barely louder than a whisper, but your words ring in his ears like you shouted them. You’d gone to stand up for him, against two Mandalorian warriors, one of which claimed to be the rightful ruler of Mandalore, all on your own. For his reputation.

“Cyare, you didn’t need to do that.” He was used to insults and other people looking down on him. It does not faze him these days, after all, he’d proved them wrong in the end.

You shake your head, anger quickly replacing the tears. “But I did! No one has the right to talk to you like that! I couldn’t just sit by and let them insult the man I love!”

Boba swears the planet stops spinning. He was the last man in the galaxy who deserved love, especially from someone as perfect as you. You deserved more than a broken man like him. Yet here you were, defending his honor because you loved him too much to stand by. “Cyare…”

“Oh kriff!” You slap both hands over your mouth, eyes comically wide, “that’s not how that was supposed to go. I wanted to tell you properly-”

In a flash Boba’s ripped his helmet off, carelessly tossing it away before crashing his lips to yours. He may not deserve you, but he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers.

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you further into each other as he steals the breath from your lungs. When you two finally part for air, he presses his forehead to yours, not willing to let you go too far away yet. “As honored as I am, cyare, to have you defend my honor, I don’t give a womp rat’s ass what those two think. The only opinion that matters to me is yours, love.”

[unknown-writerraine]

The Sam Marsh Show AU headcanons.

DON'T REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS THANK YOU!

This was requested by @coolertweek

The headcanons are based around the characters on their like, dislikes, personality and family life! I hope you enjoy this.

Sam Marsh.

* I like to think that between Sam's parent he'd be closer to his Mother because they have some similarities and bond between their same interests but still like hanging out with his dad.

*Sam lets his sister tie his hair and let her put clips on it and he'd let it be wearing his hair the way his siter did it, even letting her do his nails its like a form of bonding they have with each other.

*Sam would definitely host his birthday in a pizza place because he likes pizza.

*Sam is really protective of his sister and if she allows him to he'd beat the shit out of people who hurt her or insult her by calling her names, seemingly reminding me of this.

*Sam would write songs for his girlfriend and sing them during when he performs with his band.

*His pet pig bobo is Sams therapist, why need one when you have bobo?

*He's like a really calming person? He's just so nice to be around with like sir I can see you radiating light from a mile away.

*Sam would be really good in science, why? I said so, he's described as smart and I think his favorite subject would be science.

*Time to time, him and his family would go ice skating and skiing together as a family event during Christmas, and Sam and Elizabeth will wear matching sweaters their Grandmother Sharon made them.

*I think Sam would have a thing for scarves? Like he has a good amount of them in his wardrobe with unique designs on them.

Levi Broflovski.

*Levi would be the type to carry a first aid along with medicines from pain killers to flu meds.

*Levi is a ladies man and knows how to treat women right, he'd be the type to get things his partner that remind him of them.

Or he would personally make them something, their not the best quality but he did put his heart into it.

*You can see the evident eyebags under his eyes because of his pale complexion and constant long hours of playing video games late at night, he would sometimes play with friends who are awake.

*Someone would have to pull him to bed to get him to sleep early, but if he's in a game all hope is lost, will only sleep if he's tired of playing or he thinks its time to finally go to bed.

*Just like his Father he does not like Cartman, be it Mr. Cartman or his son Derick, he has little to no pleasant thoughts about them.

*Would be the type to be seen as quiet and shy in public but opens up very much to people he knows and is close to.

*Would carry around things that he could fidget with, but I think when he gets skittish he'd pick at his skin, bite on his nails or just has random stims? Like waving his hands or tilting his head to the side.

*Mamas boy.

*He loves his Mother very much and he says that she's the most wonderful woman in the world and his Mother would just coo and squeal while she hugs him.

*Levi likes spending his time with his Dad like going fishing or just talking about whatever and bond over similar interests.

Daniel Broflovski

*Good with being moral support or just overall being there for you, I think he wouldn't talk much in giving advice but he's someone you can confide in if you want someone to listen to you.

*It is mentioned he goes along with his siblings ideas, I think its because he wants to look out for them and would be there if they need any help.

*Daniel likes to watch horror movies and watches it when it's his turn to pick out a movie for movie night much to Levi's dismay.

*Daniel helps with cooking meals for his family because cooking happens to be his hobby, and sometimes he'd surprise his family with a random dish he learned and it would always end up tasting so good.

*Has good morals and can't stand it when he finds out you were lying to him, he very much dislikes lying.

*He'd look straight into your lies and would quickly try to find out if you were telling the truth or not, his gaze is just so intense that sometimes you can't help but look away over the overwhelming gaze.

Kendall McCormick.

*Kendall gives me vibes of someone who would wear those hentai hoodies to school with no shame.

*Or moan in random times during class for no absolute reason.

*An adrenaline junkie

*Ken is considered as someone who somehow knows things that others don't so they seek out to him and sometimes he doesn't know what they are asking for because, come on he's 8.

*Somehow would have a secret stash of playboy magazines hiding around.

*Has a collection of sports t-shirts in his closet.

*He'd be someone who cherishes spending quality time with people he cares about and loves going out of his way to spend more time with them.

Derick Cartman.

*Straight white man that is misogynistic:/

*He reminds me of someone who would carry a lighter around him.

*You wouldn't want to be around him because he'll look into you and just taunt you about things even close friends don't know about.

*He'd carry a box of tissues to wipe any pee that's on toilet bowls because that's gross and unsanitary.

*He's like those girls who watches serial killer documentaries and say that it "Helps him relax."

*He has a frog enclosure in his room where he keeps the frog that he catches from Starks pond.

*He finds pda gross like can you not kiss in front of my food??

*He'd be someone who judges you based on looks alone, Oh, you wear black? You must be depressed, You wear short skirts? You must be a slut.

*He'd use the school newspaper to spread gossip and rumors.

--

This was very short and didn't have all of the characters in the deviantart post, but I hope you like this and enjoy the headcanons I made for this au.

This, is the post where I got the information provided by the creator of the au.

Sorry if this isn't what you expected or like then I'll do my best to make your guys' requests better in the future.

Follow if you like my content!

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Blood of the King

Chapter 1

⚠️Warning: Talks of abortion, violence⚠️

Note: This is my second attempt at a Royal AU series. Inspired by Roo’s work. Don’t want to tag her to my garbage LOL... Not the best here at world building, but like i think i’m getting better each time. Any critiques are WELCOME.

Summery: Loki has a plan to be King.

Dark Loki x Black Reader, Royal AU

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Today the palace was a buzz with festivities. His royal highness Stark decided on a whim to throw a celebration yet again. The occasion you couldn't recall as he had thrown so many just this month.

*Boom

The commotion outside was loud and eventful. King Stark's lavish party had no doubt gone out of control again. You remembered one evening the royal court drunkenly shot cannons into the royal shire using the sheep and cattle as targets. Scaring half the Kingdom into thinking it had come under siege.

Though something seemed very different then the sounds that you were accustom to.

*Boom

There was a faint whistle in the distance and crashing sounds. Suddenly the chamber shook and the walls rattled. Crumbs of ceiling splintered and bits trickled down leaving dust to coat the hall.

You were on your way back to the chamber with fresh sheets and   a canter of fresh water when you heard  struggling. The muffled cries of your mother bellowed out through the cracked door.

Peering in you see two men, one holding her in a choke hold while the other stood in front blocking your view and watched. Their armor unfamiliar to you, you watch them frozen in horror.

----

Your mother let out a loud shriek followed by a gurgling that decreased in volume the longer it went on. The man blocking your view stepped back that's when you saw it. Your mother's body hit the floor with a thud, her throat sliced open blood pooling on the floor around them all.

"Where is the younger one? There should've been two"

"We need her alive" the other said as he sheathed his blade.

Dropping everything a loud clanging drew their attention, turning away you ran down the corridor.

Immediately you were met with another body. Crashing into it, his arms secured you in place as you shrieked and screamed. In your frenzy you looked at him and to your relief when you saw Barron Obadiah, an alley to the crown.

"M-men your lordship...S-strange men have killed m-my m-mother" you sob out.

---

"Shit that bastard! Come with me." Obadiah ordered, wrenching your arm he dragged you through the hall. His touch pained your forearm, but it was a pain you would great-fully bare to escape those men.

There was a frenzy of servants running up and down the halls. Screams and the strong stench of smoke enveloped in every direction. You looked to him for answers when he stopped to survey a corner hall, but he said nothing then tread onward.

You were scared. The castle rocked and shivered. He marched you down the hall. Mail clinked and clacked from all around along with the familiar smell of copper. Known to you to be most definitely blood.

Was the kingdom was truly under siege?

*Boom

An explosion raddled the walls with such force that Obadiah almost fell to the floor taking you with him. Luckily he caught himself on a wall and hurried through the crumbling castle.

You could feel the birth of a bruise under the stead fast grip of Barron Obadiah. The pain mixed with the clouded air irritated your eyes and filled you will nausea and dizziness.

"You brainless cow hurry!" he barked at you.

He sprinted and turned down so many hallways you found yourself lost despite your tenure. Obadiah suddenly stopped short of a door, opening it thrusting you inside. Latching it closed behind himself. The room was spars, nothing but a table and map tapestries. The far wall held a Stark banner. He made his way to it moving the banner aside revealing a door. He passed through first and you followed after. The dimly lit passage whined down in a spiral pattern. 

There was a dim light that grew the closer down you went. You huffed and panted with every step and he cursed your sluggishness. The ruckus could only faintly be heard the further down you went. You were a sweaty mess by the time you reached the last rung of the stone steps.

The stairwell turned into a narrow hall. Awaiting at the end of it a meek fellow with a horse drawn two wheeled cart.

You looked at Obadiah confused as to what was to transpire here. He sprinted down the corridor so fast that you would have found it humorous if you weren't so scared and confused. He reached the  man and by the flailing of his arms you knew it could not be good.

Why was he yelling at this man? What was going on? Was he to ride in this meek two wheeled cart? Would he make you walk behind the it?

You could barely keep pace with him doubtful you could keep step with a mare. This whole thing was preposterous.

After the barrage of insults the man walked to the back of the cart and lifted the tarp. The cart was filled with barrels.

Obadiah called your name as he marched over to you.

"The castle is under siege we must hurry" he said flatly. There was no time for questions and even if you asked you doubt he would’ve answered.

"Keep your head down and follow close behind him. Do you understand." He barked as he loaded himself onto the cart.

Looking at him worried, you trembled as you shook 'Yes'. "As soon as you see the docks I want you to knock on this barrel." You watched as he pointed. The owner of the cart tossed the tarp over Obadiah once he seated himself. His broad frame mirroring one of the many barrels in the cart.

---

You were not royalty, but your clothes where of the royal brand. Even to the untrained eye you would surely be seen as a royal slave. Walking with this man would've been out of place. With the madness going on about the kingdom you only hoped that the invaders cared not for slaves.

The stranger said nothing, only leading his mare by its reigns. You lowered your head and followed behind him.

Quietly he marched past the markets and crumbled houses. The reign of Stark was coming to an end. There was fire and destruction everywhere. Blood painted the streets. Unfamiliar banners flew through the air.

The city was burning.

You kept your head down as the man lead his horse through town toward the gate. How the horse did not become skittish or fazed by the carnage was an amazement.

"AAAAAHHHHH" a man's screamed out. Your head sought to find its owner. Feet from you an unfamiliar soldier of Stark's lay as you cross the gates out of the Royal court. His throat slashed, convulsing on his own blood as he choked it up.

You trembled at the sight of it all. More horses with strange banners flew past. Wringing your hands in your chest you said a silent prayer for safe passage.

The kingdom did not reside too far from the docks. Eventually the smell of the salty sea mixed with the smokey air. When the docks finally where in your line of sight you knocked the barrels.

As you approached you could see a soldier posted up at the entry way to the docking ships.

"Oye cargo for the Laufeyson" the meek man announced.

The soldier was covered in armor, but it was not embroider with the logos you had seen about your kingdom. He grunted then side-stepped letting him pass.

The owner of the cart walked straight to a bridge leading up to a massive ship. Lifting the lid Obadiah exited. He handed the man a satchel and sent him on his way.

When you looked back at the horizon it looked as if the sun had set upon the town. The fire was so bright you were sure nothing could survive it.

"Do not dawdle" he grumbled. You kept your head low and followed him up the gangway.

---

As you two boarded the ship a crewman appeared on the deck. He called to Obadiah and beckoned him to follow. Leading you both through the ship, he stopped short of a massive open door.

Obadiah walked through with you following close behind. The crewman did not enter the room only retreating from which he came.

To the north of the room a wall made of windows, but with the  moon already high, it offered barely any light. A thick melting candle added to the illumination. It flickered slightly from the air that seeped through the walls.

The candle planted on a table in the middle of the room and sat at it a man unknown to you. His garb was unlike any you've seen before. His pulchritudinous had you almost breathless.

---

"Prince Loki! I see the sea hath treated you well."  Obadiah's voice boomed. At the mention of his title your eyes widen and you bow sharply, praying that he would not find insult in your insolence.

"Ah yes the Lord doth bless us with a safe passage. And howbeit your journey through this perilous night?" He spoke. The foreign intonation sent an unfamiliar heat within you.

"It was a trip taken sooner then expected" his annoyance shown through every word as he marched to the table.

"We agreed to wait did we not? So why pray tell do I find myself blind sided by your recklessness? I barely escaped with clothes on my back" he spat out.

Obadiah snarkiness didn’t go unnoticed. Through your lashes you caught the slightest tick of the Prince's eye.

If Barron Obadiah had been a servant surely he would have been laid out on the floor. Beaten within an inch of his life for such insolence. But he was so unaware of himself due to Stark’s own lax policies.

"I do apologize my brother is quite unalienable when it comes to war. His spontaneity is one of which I can not control. Your life should suffice for now surely." He quipped, but there was something to his tone that sent your nerves awry.

You could feel Obadiah control his ire a sight you were accustom to when he talked to King Stark.

"Let us partake in some wine and toast to officially solidify our alliance" The prince suggested. Barron Obadiah took his place at the wooden table across him.

The Barron had a hand in treason. Would you be fated to treason too?

"Maid do you forget your duties?" The prince called out to you.

You had forgot yourself, but how could you not. This was not your Prince, from what you knew this was not your king's ship. But you were being made to serve a traitor and the invaders royalty.

Looking about the room, wooden cabinets were built into the east walls. In your unfamiliar surroundings you prayed as you rushed to them, hoping to find something.

Opening the higher doors first you find chalices set atop a shelf and a decanter. Grabbing two and the wine you bring them over to the table you place them in front of the men. Shakily you pour in both cups to their fill and set back against the wall.

"To small victories" they rose their goblets and drank.

----

When he gulped down the wine Obadiah winced and shot up to his feet. Dropping his goblet to the floor, clawing at his neck as if to rip out the contents.

You looked at him in horror. Then your eyes sought Prince Loki for guidance, but his reaction was not what you expected. A smile was adorned on his face so pleased and joyous of the sight.

Baron Obadiah dropped to the ground foaming, spasming, puking and turning colors. Loki continued drinking his wine unfazed.

"You bastard!" Obadiah choked out as bile spilled from him.

You stepped back when Barron Obadiah's arm reached out to your skirt. His fingers barely missing the hem of your dress. The sight horrified you as he convulsed. When his gasping stopped you knew he was for the worms now.

Would whatever had bewitched him would possessed you too?

"Right" The Prince leered at you as you pressed yourself into the wall. You were normally slow, but this was quick to put together. It was his doing.

This must’ve been some test of loyalty to the crown you thought to yourself. Now because you escaped with Obadiah you would be seen as a traitor too. Even if you tried to explain your innocence, you doubted highly that the Prince would believe a slave.

Looking at the now dead Obadiah then to Prince Loki, you knew what was next. Death. Clasping your hands you fell to your knees, squeezing your eyes closed tight. You spoke your last rights to which ever god that would hear it. You were no fool. Begging would be pointless you rather speak to the gods to grant you safe passage to the next world.

"I do say dear that prayers like that would have you condemn as a heretic" he admonished as tears streamed down your face.

---

You could not hear him. You continued to pray.

Let it be swift. Let it not hurt. Forgiveness please I beg of thee.

Hoping against hope that this would wash away all your sins as tears burst through your tightened lids.

"It is said that Stark despite his rumored infidelity never had a whisper of a bastard." He recalled as he took a sip from his cup. The mention of a bastard broke through your prayers. A sudden sense of nausea bubbled up within you.

"Then... At my brothers wedding to your princess, our then queen, your king's lips became loose as the wine flowed through the night." As he spoke you looked up at him through your clasped hands. Your prayers lowered to a meager whisper so that you could hear him.

You swallowed deeply. You knew exactly what he was getting at. Your hands drop to your side and you quieted yourself. His steely eyes staring into your soul. He knew what you were and what you did.

Were you being brought to the high church? Why would a Prince be labored with such a task? Was the church the cause for the anarchy tonight?

To be brought before the high church meant death, that one should never wish upon any enemy. You had seen the burnings before, the screams of the unholy, the sounds of which would visited you at night. The way the writhed in agony as the flames lapped their flesh.

Looking over to the Barron's lifeless body the thought of his death seemed more humane. So you turn on your knees and jump to the spilled chalice. Before you knew it the Prince was on you.

Pinning you to the floor, your head bounced off the floor sending you into a daze, his hands engulfed your wrist. Looming over you his silken hair tickled your face, the tendrils brushing at your tears. Despite his overpowering your body strained and clawed for the spilled cup.

"Find yourself honored girl. I do not make a habit to lowering myself."

"Please your highness... I'm merely a simple chambermaid" you try and reason, still fighting his hold.

-----

He got up still with your wrist in hand and dragged you to Obadiah's empty chair. The more you pulled back the harder the grip he held on you. Pushing you down on it, he enclosed you, his hands resting on its arms forming your prison.

"Your highness I implore you I know not what you mean?" Your voice quaked. Your vision doubled as the salty tears pooled on your eyes.

His stare was paralyzing as he lifted to straighten himself, you could not bring yourself to move. Racking his fingers through his dark main, watching as he walked around the table, taking his seat again across from you.

"How did you come about this trade" his tone was flat an ominous, he cradled his chin with one hand, stroking it with his slender fingers.

Your shoulders sagged forward and stomach knotted. This Prince was here to interrogate you on behalf of the church you knew it.

Then he would take you to them to be burned. An example to be made in front of The High Church.

"I asked you a question girl." His tone lacking patients.

----

"My mother..." As he held your sullen gaze you knew he wanted you to continue. "The women of town would come to her pregnant and leave...." You swallowed thickly "virginal."

It was not a flawless procedure often women have bleed out. But they would be good as dead if they were to arrived home pregnant unmarried in the eyes of The Church.

"And how did you find yourself as a dutiful servant to Stark?"

"Lord Rhodery knew of my mother by means of his sister. She was carrying the king's bastard." You said looking down to tug at the loose string of your dress.

"A month later my mother and I were sent by cover of night to the Royal castle.  From there on Stark had us stay under the guise as chambermaids."

"Who knew of this?"

"Very few just King Stark, Barron Obadiah and Lord Rhodery. They would bring the maidens to an east tower. People rarely ventured there. Our face was covered all throughout."

"So you know how to hold your tongue. A feature I admire.”

----

 "When we dock you will be taken to the servants quarters in your new Kings castle" Prince Loki spoke so softly, his calmness somehow setting you on edge.

You wrung your hands together in your lap, tapping your heel as he pulled something from his clothes. It was a bit of folded parchment with a wax seal. You could not read, but you always were fond of the squiggles that decorated paper.

"A portly woman will be there to greet you when you arrive. Give this to her." He out stretched his hand that held a parchment to you. Reaching for it, but Prince Loki pulled it away suddenly.

"Hide it away.” He ordered, you hesitated as you thought of where to stash it. You jumped when he rose again and stood in front of you once more.

“If anyone asks where you are from. Tell them you are from a province just out side my domain.” As Prince Loki spoke you stiffened and gasped.

The Prince's hand glided down your collar bone tracing down to the crack of your bosom. The folded paper clipping your chin as he moved. When he shoved it forcefully down bypassing your breast with the parchment you yelped. 

The paper edges poking at your softness made you fidget uncomfortably. Your eyes were larger than saucers as he caressed your breast when he pulled away.

"You will be a wall. A piece of furniture. An unassuming figure amongst the abysmal castle life. Listen for everything. Ears open at all times. The minorist of details commit them to memory as you never know when the slightest detail would come into play.”

You did not respond, still stunned and confused. If he wasn’t bringing you to the church you weren’t sure what he had planned for you.

Prince Loki called out to someone beyond you. The squeaks on the floor boards announced their entrance. Turning you find the man that guided you to this room. Bowing his head towards the prince.

"Take her and make sure she arrives to my brother’s safely."

XXX

Chapter 2>>

[pocketramblr]

I've noticed after a while (and many posts) that you include Fuyumi-trying-not-to-resemble-her-mother in many of your tags, and I really want to hear your thoughts on that whole character dynamic. Or how you headcannon Fuyumi in general, I'd just like to know more and I haven't seen a lot of people delve into her character. It's always one of the brothers.

*vibrates at a totally normal speed* I would love to talk about Fuyumi yes

Warning: the following headcanons contain a decent bit of projecting. Is it me being a teacher? An eldest daughter? My complicated relationship with the idea of a "traditional family"? Probably all of it

First, if you don't mind a plug, I wrote a oneshot that has like 90 percent of all my fuyumi headcanons in it, The Walls Are Thin, and so. Obvious my headcanon that she's Touya's younger twin has been disproven but I like it a lot so,,, I don't care

So, there are some things about Fuyumi that didn't make it into the anime- manga!Yumi has blue eyes like Enji and Touya, and her arm was also bandaged in the flashback soccer scene when Shoto is talking about their abusive childhood which is very interesting to me.

Now, as for Fuyumi and Rei- I don't think Fuyumi hates her mother. I don't even think she hates her mother but is ok with full reconciliation like she is with her father. But I do think they have a very complicated relationship. Rei was institutionalized when Fuyumi was eleven, and from that moment on Fuyumi basically had to take over the raising of her brothers. Fuyumi lost her mother at eleven and then had to become one herself, because Rei burned her littlest brother.

Fuyumi was a child- and here's the thing. Rei's breakdown was sudden, but not surprising. She looked bad in the flashback right before it, she was begging her own mother for help. She looked sleep deprived and skittish. So even before Rei was sent away, I don't know how much she was actually mothering Fuyumi. Shoto can't really tell us that, and Fuyumi... Doesn't seem to want to think much on her past or give flashbacks to the two of them. So when Fuyumi is eleven, is ten, is nine- she's seeing this happen to her mother as a process. Rei is fading away, and Fuyumi is right at the age to actually begin to sort of understand it and be scared.

Shoto is aware that the marriage was motivated primarily to get a quirk like his. I see no reason that Fuyumi would be unaware of this ether, even when she was younger.

A lot of mental health problems can be hereditary- I remember my mother talking to me about her health history and her own mom's health history bc there's a looooot of problems there lol but Fuyumi didnt get that. She got to see her mother stuck in a hospital for a decade for a breakdown. She got to learn in school that those kinds of things can be passed down to children just like quirks. I'd bet anything that Fuyumi is terrified of having a breakdown like that. Of being like her mother- someone who cared for children that she couldn't protect from Enji for ten years or so, then being locked away when she finally snapped.

There's also her status as only daughter- besides the fact that all the wifely duties were put on her, there are still more expectations. Touya is dead, Natsuo is so ignored he didn't need to be disowned, Shoto is primed only to be one thing: the number one hero. Fuyumi, who has been mothering since she was eleven, would be looked to first for grandchildren.

This isn't to say that Enji ever expressed a single care about that- I doubt he did. But Fuyumi's grandmother was seen in some early flashbacks. I'm not sure if that was Rei or Enji's mother, but either way... Well, she'd certainly talk about how pretty she was. How sweet. How good to her brothers now that her poor mother is away. How obedient a daughter. And even if this grandmother doesn't talk about a quirk marriage explicitly, Fuyumi knows that she either raised a man who looked for one by the age of twenty, or was wholly complicit in her daughter getting one.

Even if, logically, Fuyumi knows her father wouldn't arrange her one- either because she's more useful at the house, or he doesn't pay enough attention, or he's going through a post Kamino character development- there's the fact that she also knows It's Not Impossible. She knows that if her family is as high up as it is and utterly rotten inside, there could be lots of people like that in their social circles. There could be someone who has that sort of interest in her.

Anyway, all that gives Fuyumi some very, very complicated feelings on motherhood and marriage. I don't think she wants either. Ever. She's a teacher, so she likes to work with kids- but we know a part of that is to make up for not being able to help her little brothers. She's full of guilt. I don't think she'd ever be interested in romance or anything else with a man, after seeing how it turned on and utterly broke Rei. And while I do sometimes have Fuyumi as lesbian, I also really think she might be aroace. This adds fun spice where she asks herself things like "wait is this just my trauma or my actual identity" and haha same I'm sorry I project on her a lot anyway sorry Fuyumi,,, you deserve a happy life. A normal life. But you don't get one ♥️

And the normal life thing- that's because Fuyumi is tired. She's tired of being a mother to her brothers. She's tired of having the responsibility of parenting without any of the power or control. She wants to be treated like a normal daughter and sister. And that can't happen if her brothers, esp Natsuo who she saw even more, keeps fully crediting his raising to her. Even if it's the truth, and even if Natsuo loves their mother and had no problem with her- he certainly wouldn't claim Rei influenced him more than Fuyumi did. That's why she's so desperate specifically for him to reconcile.

And she did see Natsuo more- but I think Fuyumi is also very close to Shoto. Closer than he thinks. Not just because her first two appearances are just her trying to protect Shoto by warning him when Enji is pissed off or when he will be, though that certainly helps- she's rather attuned to that stuff, and at least sorta used to Shoto sometimes listening to her about that kind of advice. But Shoto is being shaped deliberately to basically be Enji 2.0 . He has no choice but to be a hero. He has no choice but to train hard and get strong. He's supposed to beat All Might in a rivalry. All that stuff. Fuyumi, likewise, is shaped to be Rei 2.0. Take care of the children. Be soft. Not cut out for heroics. Not able to stop Enji from doing anything. Support Shoto. Cook. Clean. Take over when the housekeeper leaves, because why hire another one when there's a fourteen, fifteen, sixteen year old who can do it? Don't go to anyone for help, because no one who can help you will believe you or want to help you.

Shoto is supposed to succeed where Endeavor failed against All Might.

Fuyumi is supposed to succeed where Rei failed in going against Enji.

And all this, in a house where "like Rei" is an insult that her father shouts- to have her mother's constitution is a terrible thing. It's why her first two brothers were failures. Being "like Rei" means you are weak, and useless, and going to break down, going to be sent away.

And Fuyumi is supposed to be "like Rei", but without any of those bad parts.

Anyway wow this is such a long post.

That's why I think Fuyumi has a complicated relationship with her mother and with her appearance! If Fuyumi had been a boy, there always would have been a housekeeper there. She could have been a big brother- a big brother overly relied on, yes, but not a father. Fuyumi is not a boy. She is "like Rei." She is like Rei, who poured boiling water on a child because he had red hair, and a blue eyes.

So I think Fuyumi looks in the mirror, and sees red lines in her hair, and blue eyes behind glasses that neither of her parents need. And I think she keeps her hair shorter than Rei, and doesn't let it hang long like her mother prefers. And I think Fuyumi looks in the mirror, and sees that she's not just exactly like one or the other of her parents- and I think she says "thank God"

[lunawritesaa]

Hi, Luna! This prompt has been on my mind for a while, hope I'm not too late. I wanna get Apollo going full protective mode for s/o when someone says shit about their style (insults their hair, clothes, etc). Even though this kind of thing happens to me much rarer than I expect it to, and though I learned to just shrug it off, it's still annoying as fuck. (Apollo has my royal permission to throw hands if he so desires)

i’ll throw hands with them too tf?? if anyone makes fun of your style please point them in my direction. i am 5’10” and can totally kick their ass anytime, anywhere 😌

——

apollo justice

Apollo does not stand for someone putting others down. Especially when it comes to someone as fantastic as you.

As much as he hates confrontation and starting fights, he has no problem calling other people out when they say rude things about your style.

Especially because, uh, hello?? You look absolutely amazing and they have no right to be jerks.

He defends you with his LIFE. He is a defense attorney after all.

It’s like every skittish bone in his body disappears and is replaced with an immense amount of confidence. He’s radiating anger as he confronts the other people.

And if he makes a scene?? He doesn’t care, he wants everyone to know that you don’t deserved to be talked to that way.

He will throw hands if you if it keeps escalating and they refuse to apologize. You’ll have to pull him away before things get a little too ugly.

After the whole event has passed he apologizes for losing his cool so easily. But he hates hearing people talk down to you!

No one deserves to be treated that way, and he wasn’t going to stand and watch as those people made fun of you.

He’ll always protect and defend you no matter what! You’re literally the light of his life so he feels that it’s the least he can do.

——

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Valued Possessions

Word Count: 1.9k  

Pairing: Trainer!Izuku/Dragon-Shifter!Reader

Synopsis: Izuku’s rather fond of his newest find, an exotic Dragon-Shifter set to join his ever-growing collection of beasts and monsters. It’s a shame he has to break you in before he can expect you to fall in line.

TW: Violence, Abuse of Power, Kidnapping, Dehumanization, and Captivity. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a dragon.”

His voice is smooth, unaffected, an ongoing drawl as practiced as the nonchalant smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. It’s been there since you arrived, since his obnoxious, noisy lackeys pulled you out of a cage with iron bars, a muzzle locked over your mouth and shackles around your wrists and ankles, the broken remains of four identical restraints laid at your feet. Izuku, as he insists you call him, saw fit to do away with the muzzle, but you couldn’t be thankful, not when he makes it so clear he’d prefer you keep quiet. You’d already had to endure his humming while he wound your chains around the stone pillar you were currently kneeling in front of, a solitary structure in the center of the cavernous tent he seemed to call home. If an off-tune melody is your reward for cooperation, you have no desire to find out what misbehavior will earn.

Silently, you make plans to tear out his tongue, then his vocal cords, and if you’re feeling generous, his lungs. Anything he could use to get on your nerves.

“Dragons are such wondrous creatures.” He’s behind you, now, his light footsteps only made softer by the bare earth that makes up his floor. It’s just soil and grass, but it’s biting into your knees nonetheless, wedging itself between your scales and doing nothing to aid the steady, pulsing ache in your calves, tight knots of pressure and tension you couldn’t shake out. You need to stand, to stretch, and while you’re all-but sure Izuku can sense your discomfort, you know you won’t be permitted to move until you’re ready to beg for it. Needless cruelty is a staple of humanity, and he’s given you no reason to think him any better than than the rest of his kin. “I used to have a few friends like you - halfbreeds. Half human, half reptile.” Izuku pauses, letting out a disgruntled huff. His own, personal, unpleasant joke. “Although, Kacchan could hardly be called anything but a nuisance.”

You narrow your eyes, speaking under your breath. “You’re one to talk.”

If he hears you, he doesn’t deem the comment worthy of indulgence. Rather, Izuku takes the opportunity to edge closer, the fabric of his thick gloves rustling before falling away completely, his bare fingertips soon brushing against the unprotected, fleshy skin of your shoulder-blade, just above the base of your wing. Automatically, you jerk away, balling your hands into fists and curling into yourself, but Izuku only laughs, the sound breathy and arrogant. The laugh of a man watching his skittish pet shy away from his touch, too simple-minded to realize that it can only run to the end of its leash. “You’re prettier than Kacchan. Fewer scars, duller talons... your scales are a nice color, too,” He says. Then, as if you don’t already know, he adds “They match your eyes.”

You don’t respond, biting the edge of your tongue, but Izuku is already preoccupied. Idly, his attention shifts towards the nape of your neck, his fingers dancing over the patch of scales that protect the top of your spine. He follows the shape, where it narrows and dips, guarding only what’s necessary before trickling to a stop completely, only to pick up again below your knees. With a discontented, throaty noise, he stabs his thumb violently into small of your back, his unoccupied hand clamping around your shoulder as you cry out, more out of shock than pain. Whatever he’s searching for, he doesn’t find, something he makes apparent with an unsatisfied purse of his lips. “No tail.”

You grit your teeth, but it fails to quell your anger. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” You spit, raising your voice before you can make yourself regret the action. “I thought you had eyes--”

Izuku doesn’t care for that. Before you can find a proper end to your insult, something flat and sharp bites into your skin, the vulnerable tissue of the back of your thigh. There’s an eruption of flame beneath your skin, but it fades quickly, leaving a scalding, lasting pain in its wake. One that burnt more than it should’ve. One that hurt more than you’d care to admit. A whip, you realize, just in time for the second blow. You don’t remember when he picked it up, but you don’t particularly care, either. A weapon is a weapon, and the fact that he has the gull to turn one against you at all is enough to make your broiling hate boil over.

“That’s not the kind of language you’re going to use with me,” He coos, his voice nothing short of benign, as if he hadn’t just struck you for no other reason than his own perceived superiority. “We’re friends, are we not? There’s no reason to take that tone with me, not when you and I want the same thing.” Slow, deep circles are pushed into the dip of your shoulder, Izuku’s half-hearted attempt to comfort you. It does little to erase the furious red streaks now decorating your skin. “You want to survive, and I want to see you flourish. If I have to hurt you, it’s only because you’ve done something to warrant discipline.”

“It’s because you’re a sadist,” You grunt, flexing your claws, testing the strength of your chains. They hold true, rattling under their own weight at the slightest shift, reassuring you that you wouldn’t be able to escape them, not without giving Izuku time to do something much worse than inflict a momentary pain. “If you didn’t enjoy this, you wouldn’t--”

Another strike forces your breath to hitch, colliding with your shoulder and seeping onto your chest. Your scales distance the pain, but that only means it lingers, carving out a place in your memory before it began to fade. You don’t cry out, for fear that any sound of displeasure will earn another blow.

Izuku doesn’t bother with a warning when he takes up one of your wings, instead, tearing it away from your back until the appendage is stretched to its full length. It flutters, attempting to tuck back into a position more in tune with its twin, but Izuku’s grip is firm, keeping it in place as he idly runs a finger down a prominent ridge, following the shape from the bend of your wing until it disappears into leathery sinew. You shudder, and Izuku pretends not to notice. “Beautiful wings,” He notes. “It’s a good pair. If I cut them off and sell them to the highest bidder, I’d make a small fortune. Enough to fund your upkeep, and a little extra... It’d only be fair, wouldn’t it?”

It’s involuntary. You don’t say anything, you’re smart enough to bite your tongue and keep quiet, but there’s a twitch, a delayed effort to keep yourself docile, and that’s enough for Izuku. With a light chuckle and a step back, his foot implants itself in your spine, knocking you forward, your chest crashing haphazardly into the stone pillar. The edge collides with your chest, slotting itself between your ribs and refusing to move until a bruise is blooming across your diaphragm. You scream, the noise high-pitched and cut short by your own pride, but Izuku doesn’t pull back. If anything, more of his weight comes to rest on you, the sole of his boot making itself at home on your skin. Taking pleasure in doing so, at that.

“You’re mine,” He growls, the declaration a ridicule in itself. “I paid for you, I brought you here, and now, you belong to me. You’re a monster, and I am the loving, caring hand that’s going to make sure you don’t stumble into another trap or get skinned for your hide. I’m doing you a favor, and you will be thankful for it.” He grinds his heel down, driving a small, pathetic whine from somewhere deep in your throat. Tiny, insignificant, and exactly what Izuku’s looking for. “You’re going to be happy, and I’m going to take very, very good care of you. We’ll work hand in hand as master and pet, and you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

“I’m not an animal.” It takes more restraint that it should not to hiss the words, not to make a fact into a warning. If you hadn’t been captured, restrained and collared like an unruly mutt, you would’ve strung him to the nearest tree branch with his own intestines hours ago, and you would’ve done so with joy. It’s a difficult feat not to let that impact the way you speak. “I’m not human, but I’m not a monster, either. I’m not mindless.” You swallow dryly, remaining quiet for a moment, but Izuku fails to cut in. It’s a relief, and yet, his silence is enough to make you shrink into yourself, your confidence unshaken but suppressed. “You can’t treat me as if I am, not if you expect me to be grateful.”

A second passes, and you begin to hold your breath. But, Izuku’s eventual response comes without malice. “Yes, I can.”

It’s all you can do to remember how to talk. “What?”

“I can.” He pulls away, the pressure falling away from your back, but you don’t move, staying slouched over the pillar as if it was a lifeline, rather than a hindrance. Slowly, he circles to face you, and for the first time, you can see him clearly. His attire, all well-worn tunics and clothes made to guard against creatures much more imposing than yourself, his pale skin, littered with scars from his neckline to his wrists, and his eyes, dark and foreboding and so terrible, focused on you and unwilling to center on everything else, even when you manage to rip yourself away. Your head bows before you can summon your courage, but Izuku’s quick to correct your posture, his fingers soon rooted in your hair, wrenching you upward and forcing you to meet his gaze. He’s done giving you a choice, if he was ever willing to. “And I will. You might’ve been something before, but now, you’re one of my beasts, and I intend to train you appropriately. You’ll be grateful for my generosity, or I’ll make you act like you are. Regardless of how much I have to shave away to reach the golden, obedient core I know you have.”

Instinctually, you bare your teeth, but the gesture is feeble, much too little and far too late. Izuku only smiles as he leans forward, pushing a quick, chaste kiss into your forehead. You’d say it seems apologetic, but his broad, remorseless grin crushes your hope before it can start to take shape. “Be thankful,” He says, standing to his full height.

Somehow, he seems so much taller than he was, seconds ago.

“I might be the only person who sees you as human enough to warrant such thorough efforts.”

[hyperesthesias]

warnings: nsft 18+ ; allusions to past sexual assault. ; really fucking tragic. legit made myself cry. ; no proofreading.

words: 2.9k

summary(?): the one time crosshair finds happiness, it goes horribly awry. something of a study about how the clones are treated like droids, and how neither of them have any rights or autonomy.

notes: this isn’t really formatted necessarily, but i had to get this out so i could focus on another piece of writing im working on. feedback is always appreciated! 

fic idea where the bad batch are sent on a prolonged stealth training mission before the official start of the clone wars and they wind up staying at this shady inn. crosshair breaks his arm and shoulder and stays there alone while the others move ahead with the mission. he meets the inn’s VERY shady owner and his blind server droid, ADA-565, a female looking droid of a type he’s never seen before. she’s very skittish and soft spoken, especially around the inn’s owner. later that evening the inn’s owner offers ADA to crosshair as a pleasure droid. it both confuses and insults crosshair deeply, but he allows ADA into his room.

He takes her into his room and she seems to know her way around it very well, he remarks how he’s never seen a droid like her before, and she says her line has been discontinued for many years. She doesn’t know what happened to her sisters, but she heard that any remaining ADA’s that had been found by the manufacturer were recalled and ‘decommissioned’. When he asks why, she says they were neurally defective -- she goes onto explain that the ADA’s neural networks began to grow and expand beyond that which they’d been calibrated for. Crosshair doesn’t immediately understand the extent of what she means, but he understand she’s very different than any droid he has met before, and he says as much. She assumes he is attempting to flirt with her and she says there’s no need to flirt, that she will have sex with him regardless -- it’s what she was programmed for. He is immediately taken aback and disgusted when he begins to put together she is sad, even scared. She is not a droid at all, he comes to the conclusion, she’s more of a person locked in a metal and plastoid body. He tells her he doesn’t want to have sex with her, he wanted to separate her from the owner so he could speak to her, he wants to free her. “There isn’t much of a point,” she says, “Even if I am free, if I am found, I will die.” She sounds like a clone, he thinks. Or clones sound like droids -- and he’s not sure which is worse.

He offers for her to stay with him in his room as a reprieve from the owner. She thinks, and considers, and agrees. She searches her way around the room and finds the chair in the corner, he offers to take it instead and she can have the bed, if she wanted to sleep -- does she sleep? She laughs, and it takes him off guard, he doesn’t hear much laughter, especially from a woman. She can sleep, she says, but she never gets much of it. He understands. More than he should.

Two months go by and as his arm heals, he finds he’s gotten close to Ada, she’s become more of a confidant than he’s ever had before, a friend, rather than a brother like he’s used to. She has begun to trust him almost instinctively, and she’s fascinated with the concept of his heightened eyesight. He often describes the sunsets to her. He’s horribly uncomfortable at first when she asks him to describe himself to her, but the way her hands feel his features -- she’s cold, but her fingers begin to warm the longer she lingers against his skin -- he states he looks much different than the rest of the clones, that he’s...defective, too. 

He continues to let her ‘sleep’ in his room, and at one point she remarks that she’s cold. He asks if she’d like him to sleep next to her, and she agrees. She is terribly cold, and when he asks if she can feel she tells him she can, but not like he can -- but she can still feel, hear, sing. She likes singing, and he’s noticed she’s very good at it, though it sounds different than any human voice he’s heard.

They begin to have conversations about what they want in life -- if they even can want things in life. “What is it that you want? Not what you’re...programmed to do?” he asks, almost as if he’s asking himself. It takes her a long time to answer. But the way his hand is stroking her shoulder, the feel of his warm breath against her face, it soothes her and it reminds her of a recurring dream she holds onto. “I want to see the lake.” “Lake?” “I’ve heard many patrons talk about a lake near here. They say it’s beautiful -- especially in spring. I wish I could see it, the rocks, the trees, the flowers. I wish I could live there. I wonder what flowers smell like.” “You’ve never smelled a flower?” he grins, and remembers the first time he got a waft of the open air -- only six months ago. It surprised him, it felt dry at the back of his throat, but it made his brain alight. “I can’t smell,” she says, almost embarrassed, ashamed. This surprises him, too. “What do you smell like?” she giggles. He laughs -- he find he can laugh with her. It’s strange, odd, but a welcome uncertainty. “Ozone. A lot of it. Blasterfire, grime, dust.” She laughs. “Maybe it’s better i can’t smell after all.” He rolls his eyes and strokes her face. When did she become so beautiful? Had she always been?

Two weeks later he gets word the mission was a begrudging success -- it was a difficult mission, but they’d be returning to the inn within two days time. He’s...disappointed, and he’s not sure why. Until he gets it all at once -- and he hates himself for it: pretending he could have a life, pretending he could be something he’s not. Pretending he could actually be...a person. It sets him in a foul mood, and it troubles Ada, especially when he’s curt with her. She’s offended, and leaves him alone for a while, until he seeks her out. She’s sitting outside at the back of the inn, she’s sitting in the sunlight, feeling the warmth of it on her skin. He sits next to her and explains his brothers are coming back -- which means he’s leaving, too. She doesn’t respond for a while, but after a few minutes she puts her head on his shoulder and holds his hand -- as though if she held him tight enough, he wouldn’t leave, that he’d stay, that they’d disappear together somewhere wonderful, somewhere by the lake. 

He takes her chin with his finger, and presses his head to hers -- to his surprise, she knows what a Keldabe Kiss is, “I do still have a database,” she grins and chuckles. She leans a little further into him, until he presses his lips to hers. He holds her close to him. “I know what I want,” she says. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’ve never been sure about anything in my life, but I have no question -- no question when it comes to you.” He’s never been chosen before, by anyone or anything, he’s never been loved. 

“I’ve never had sex before,” she says, “I’ve been used for sex, but I’ve never...been a participant.” There is terrible shame in her voice, and she can’t bring her face anywhere towards him, it’s hidden into her shoulder. It angers him, to hear her speak of what she was put through, what she was created for. It’s different, it’s...not the same as his own creation, but the parallel is undeniable. That angers him, too. He caresses one finger against the crown of her head, pushing her hair back -- he wants to see her, he wants her to know he sees her. That he wants to. No matter what. She finally leans into his hand and he cradles her face. “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t, either.” She smiles. 

He’s so gentle with her, he takes her pace, her cue. He asks her to show him where, he wants to learn. No one had ever thought to bring her pleasure, no one had ever considered it. His mouth doesn’t want to leave her -- any part of her, the metal of her skin, the warmth of where her heart would be, of her middle. The way he touches her, where he touches her -- “It’s right here, the center of me,” she puts his hand to just above her navel, where she is the most sensitive, where the bundle of wires lay just beneath -- it’s all intentional, it’s all full of passion, intensity. She’s never experienced anything like it -- she feels like she’s full of stars, full of light and brightness, energy that cannot be contained, and she wonders if not for a moment, if this is what it felt to be human. Ada lies there, once her world stops spinning, once the two of them are spent and exhausted and elated, and can think of nothing but humanity, what it means to feel -- what it means to be. To be with someone she loved. To love and to live therein.

He tends to her carefully, softly, sweetly, and together they fall asleep; she, safe in his arms.

The day his brothers arrive, Crosshair pulls Tech aside and demands a favour -- and despite Tech’s tiredness, he agrees when Crosshair offers to clean and settle his gear. “What exactly is this favour?” “I need you to put Ada’s eyesight back together.” “ADA? You mean the droid? I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” he thinks aloud, “but I can do it.” “Her name...is Ada.” Tech has never seen his brother quite so attached to anyone or anything, besides his wordless devotion to rest of his batchmates. It takes him back, but he agrees, despite.

Ada will only allow Crosshair to switch off her power, and makes him promise to stay by her side, to make sure nothing happens. She’s never been so willingly vulnerable -- especially allowing someone to poke around in her head. Crosshair swears both protection and fealty to her, and lets her get comfortable in a soft chair before he gently switches off her power on the back of her neck. “Goodnight, cyrae,” he whispers. Tech now sees there is something...disturbingly different about ADA. He sees his brother’s attachment and cautions him against attachment, they will be leaving in two days time. “Just get it done,” he tells him.

The moment Ada opens her eyes again, her vision is a white and color blotched blur -- with a tan and black and silver blur right in front of her. It’s talking to her, and she recognizes his voice instantly. As she begins to focus, she sees Crosshair with his hands on either side of her face. He’s searching her -- making sure she can see. Her eyes are no longer dark, but illuminated with a solid yellow-white color. “Cyrae? Can you hear me? Can you see me?” The image in front of her becomes clearer and she smiles -- it’s reactive, instinctual, to smile at the sight of her lover. Her hands go to his face and she holds him carefully, like small bird egg, that he would break if she touched him too harshly. “I see you -- I can see you!” She throws her arms around him and falls to her knees, they embrace, holding each other while knelt on the floor. “Is this what it feels like? To cry with joy? It’s such a strange feeling.” Crosshair kisses the side of her head and holds her arms as she stands. Tech performs some visual tests and clears his work as good, before he leaves his brother alone with the droid. With Ada. He figures the happiness -- however brief it might be -- would be beneficial to his morale. He leaves quietly and says not a word to his other brothers. 

“Come with me,” he says, his head pressed against hers, “Come with me.” “Where would i go? How would I hide? I can’t.” “I’m not leaving you here, i’m not leaving without you free.” Ada agrees, knowing his fealty will ensure her safety, even if they were parted in the end.

The morning the batch are shipping out, Crosshair is disturbed from his duties with a shrill scream that comes from the back of the inn -- Ada’s scream. With a blaster in hand, he runs to find the inn owner with Ada by the neck. The owner swings her around and uses her as a shield. Crosshair can make the shot, he knows he can -- but the owner drags Ada out the back and throws her in a speeder and takes off. Crosshair commandeers the one beside it and takes off after him. The pursuit leads them through the marketplace, through stalls and alleyways, all the way to the outside of town. He can’t take a shot at the vehicle at the risk of injuring Ada, he creeps up next to it, and tries nudging the speeder to get him to slow down, to get him off course. But the owner shoves back, and pushes Crosshair’s speeder away. The owner pushes again and again -- focused on getting Crosshair to tailspin. He doesn’t see the pole before its too late -- Crosshair desperately tried pushing the speeder out of its way, but the speeder wraps itself around the metal.

“Ada!” he screams over the horrific screeching crunches as metal twists with metal twists with Ada. He jumps off the speeder and runs to her. She’s trapped in the wreckage. He pulls metal and carcass apart until he gets to her. She’s impaled with a piece of the chassis, she cries out when he removes it from her torso. He pulls her out and leans her against the wreckage. He’ll get his brother, he says, he’ll help. “There’s nothing he can do.” Her entire right side is crushed. She’ll need spare parts, there aren’t any in existence. She’s clutching his shoulder, the shell of him is breaking. They both know, there isn’t much time. “I know what I want,” she says. “What is it that you want?” his voice has never sounded so desperate, it hasn’t since.

Shes’ barely hanging onto any life that’s still circulating within her, but she’s clinging to it -- the minutes and seconds she has left with her lover. She’s in his arms, staring at his face, staring at the blue sky above him, the white clouds -- she’d almost forgotten what they looked like, their beauty. She knew them only from memories that’d turned into dreams. But this was no dream.

Crosshair leans her against the biggest, most beautiful tree he can find that overlooks the lake. There are birds that circle the water, that dive for fish, for a moment she smiles. If she had tears, they would have been stinging her eyes, staining the plastoid of her face. Crosshair sits next to her, watching the life transpiring around them, the irony biting him in the jugular. He’s bleeding without spilling a drop -- of blood or tears. She holds his hand, their palms resting in the green grass, the white clover buds. “I’m glad I was happy. I’m glad I had you.” He looks at her, the shell’s cracks widening. “I want you to do it,” she says. He hates that he knows what she means, his eyes close and his head falls. “I don’t want to wither,” she says. He can’t refuse her, “Just tell me when.” She leans against him, watching the clouds go by. If all her life she’d had nothing but fear, but brokenness, if all her life she longed for the sweet feeling of lake air brushed against her skin, if all her life she’d wanted to love and be loved, she felt her life had culminated. If all her life she’d been a conduit, it was fitting the end of her life would be with her innards exposed. She nestles her face into him and holds his arm. The pain grew -- unbearable, seething and seeping, like a scream -- and her vision began to blur. “I’m ready.” 

Fragments barely keeping themselves together, Crosshair nods and kneels beside her. She takes the one hand she has left and caresses his face -- he’s warm, warmer than he’s ever been; hot with the holding of grief. “I love you,” she says and kisses him. He kisses her, and he feels if he kissed her hard enough, deeply enough -- long enough -- he could save her life essence, he could retain a part of her, keep her with him, safe and painless -- here, forever. “I love you,” he whispers as he pulls away, cradling her head in his hand; he’d never uttered such words before, and he’s never spoken them since. His thumb caresses her head as he presses his head to hers one more time; he can feel her nod beneath him. 

His finger squeezes and her power switch is flicked off. The light fades from her eyes, and she goes limp in his arms.

He leans her against the tree and rests her there, hand in her lap, leg outstretched in front of her.

He sits beside her with one arm leaned against his knee. His face buried in his hand, he breaks apart completely.

Crosshair leaves Ada in a place he believed would comfort her for eternity -- he leaves her beneath the tree, overlooking the lake, flowers in her lap, blossoms behind her ear.

When he returns to his brothers, he does not speak. They ask him nothing.

Crosshair has never returned, but for dreams.

[tinalbion]

May I humbly request some Freddy hurt/comfort? With him finally realizing that his s/o genuinely loves him and that he’s finally loved

Oh man, you guys have such fun Freddy stuff and I am NOT gonna complain! We do love a little bit of hurt and comfort, it adds to the flavor, doesn’t it? You know how I feel about this damn man, oh, so weak!

“Son of A Hundred Maniacs”

Warnings: Mentioned verbal and physical abuse

Length: 2k

*

*

Son of a hundred maniacs! Son of a hundred maniacs!”

“You freak!”

“Nutcase!”

It was always neverending for Freddy, even with Mr. Underwood, it was just unbearable sometimes when he would drink and take out everything on him, that’s why he took that pain and used it, Freddy wielded that power now and he used it to show that he would no longer be walked over and treated like he was unworthy of the life that was given to him.

He proved himself over and over again, he would walk in people’s nightmares and take them out one by one. He allowed no one and nothing to come between him and his work.

Until you came along.

He hated it, despised it so much to the point he didn’t even want to face you any longer, but he was always drawn back and would somehow find himself in your dreams, watching from afar as you imagined pathetic and innocent things. He even tried his best to scare you, to feed off your fear to give him enough gut to do what needed to be done and leave the boiler room with your soul. 

But that all began to change when he appeared in another dream of yours, and before he even knew the details of it, he was about to execute his plan to pull you back into his playing grounds until he saw what it was you had been thinking about. He was there, not as the dream demon you had been so uncomfortably familiar with, but him in his human days. The tousled hair, the disturbing smoke-hued eyes that stared off into nothingness, it was definitely him back when he was only sixteen. Freddy seemed more confused than anything, but he decided as much as he wanted to put a stop to this, he needed to know why you’d be dreaming about him in such an intimate way.

He scoffed at the idea. Intimate, yeah, sure. That’s not really the way he’d describe anything about him, not now and not ever. But when he watched you approach the old him, it was almost like he was the one dreaming. You had been careful with your steps and your words, you sat next to him on the bench outside of the local park, where he had been a good couple of feet away from the rest of anyone else. 

Your eyes were on him as you watched the way he reacted to your presence, which gave off the notion that he wasn’t too keen on having company. He shrugged and scooted further away from you, his eyes averted from you and kept to the ground, his shoes digging into the ground as he twitched under your questioning gaze.

“Hey, I’m Y/N,” you greeted calmly, “what’s your name?” You leaned forward slightly, your hands gripping the edge of the bench as your head was turned toward him. 

The younger Fred was defensive and terrified, cursed to think that everyone would immediately lunge for him with the hurled insults of being a freak, a bastard, whatever it was the kids were calling him these days. You were gonna be no different, he was sure of it, they all ended up being harsh and cruel to him. Nothing made you special.

But that’s where he was wrong, you were so very special, you were kind and understanding, that beaming light he needed as a child when no one else wanted anything to do with him. Mr. Underwood would beat him, the kids would haunt him for the rest of his miserable mortal life. But there was some odd sense of hope as you spoke so kindly to him in your dream.

Funny thing is, you weren’t even sure why you were dreaming of him, but you were amazed just how normal he seemed in his teen years, it was almost refreshing to see. The dream demon watched you still, his mind torn in several different directions. You exhausted him in so many ways and he was more inclined to kill you to rid himself of the headache you caused, but there was something that he buried deep within himself that he never wanted to resurface for anyone to see ever again. The pain he felt. He controlled it and used it to his advantage, he wouldn’t feel it anymore, he’d never feel the way he used to, but there you were, bringing his deepest and darkest emotions out from within him. It was rather funny, he wanted to kill you slowly, to watch you suffer, but he was slowly realizing that there was so much more to it now, it was never something for Fred to second guess.

After a long and uncomfortable silence, dream Freddy tilted his head slightly to the side, your hand in his sight. “Fred,” was all he managed before avoiding eye contact once again. 

You smiled, happy to just get an answer from him. It was not spoken aloud at any point, but you knew that this was him, the version of the Springwood Slasher everyone had tried to bury in the secrets of Springwood, but you wouldn’t explain to him that you knew what was to come, you knew he was already being led down a path that he wouldn’t be able to come back from, but there was always a chance to shed just a small beam of light into him, to show him that he wasn’t entirely alone. It was incredible that no one had tried to do this for him, and if they did, why hadn’t they tried harder to help him? He was only a child, innocent, and in need of help. Whatever the case, it was said and done, but you couldn’t help look at him with such affection, your eyes reflecting just how much of a love-sick puppy you had become.

The way you looked at him; had you dreamt about him before? You must have, there was no other reason to explain why you had looked at him like that, but whatever it was, Freddy was feeling confliction like he never had before. He stepped closer to you and continued to watch you carefully, his claws at the ready if he needed to dispose of you quick enough, but if you knew about all of this and you knew he was there watching you, you didn’t give him any indication that you had an idea.

Your face suddenly turned to see him standing several yards away, hiding in those familiar shadows as a predator normally did, and your face softened as he stepped out slightly from his hiding spot. The teen Fred slowly vanished from your view and the real one walked closer to you, wordless and intimidating like he always was, his eyes glaring down at you while you reached out for the teen Fred. Your hand went through mist where he sat, your face now solemn as you were faced with the real thing.

“What the hell are you doin’, huh?” Freddy snapped as he slide-stepped in front of you, forcing you to face him.

“Whatever do you mean?” you replied quickly. “You and I both know that I can’t control my dreams.” You tilted your head down and looked at your hands as you picked at the little pieces of skin that were around your nails. “This started without me prompting it, okay?” 

Freddy knew you were being truthful with him, he had seen into your dreams and they were sometimes a bit obscene at times, and others they were docile and uneventful. Now though, it was different, maybe it was his fault and something that was out of his power happened, pulling you into it since you had been the most recent victim of his. Whatever the case, you were able to see into his memories, which were leaked somehow into your subconscious. 

“I just want to say that I get it,” you started again as you grabbed onto his non-gloved hand and squeezed it, “you can kill me after but I want you to know that I get it, I see why you’ve felt the way you have for so long and I can only say I’m sorry.”

Freddy’s anger only bubbled and he wanted nothing more than to cut you down and enjoy taking your soul as the color from your face would drain right before him, but he couldn’t find it within him to do so. Why, he couldn’t say exactly, he only knew that you had seen his past and were here in the present, and you had apologized to him. Why would you do that? It was unnecessary and yet so very needed, he had no idea how much it would mean to him when you spoke again.

You scoffed and shook your head. “It doesn’t make up for anything, really, but it’s evident that you had no one, and I want you to know that I would have loved you even then, guess I always would.” Your revelation had surprised even you when you came to the realization, but you were at peace with it and needed him to know before he would kill you. 

Freddy then realized he hadn’t snatched his hand from yours; he was enjoying the touch and the contrasting temperature your body gave off, it was such a conflicting feeling and he hated the fact that he liked it so much. But you sounded so genuine and kind, this wasn’t a ruse to try and get away from him, you stopped doing so a few visits ago, he took notice. 

His eyes flickered from your hand to your face, a small smile plastered there as you stared up at him, tired and exhausted. “I have to admit that I think I love you.”

That’s when it hit him, that’s when he felt everything hit him at once and he was so terrified of this new feeling that he left soon after your confession. You understood though, it was a lot to handle and you knew he would come back when he was ready. And that’s exactly what he did a week later. A week of uninterrupted sleep and silence from the dream demon you had become accustomed to seeing. 

When he did show up, he was skittish and hesitant, to say the least, but he did end up showing himself and you couldn’t have been more unsure of where your life stood. You decided that it would be completely up to him and you wanted to show him that he had that option, but what he did was more surprising than what you initially expected; he took several bold steps toward you and pulled you into one of the tightest hugs you’ve ever had. A relieved hum escaped your lips and you couldn’t have asked for a better response to your startling confession, and you returned to hug immediately.

This was the most interaction you had gotten from him and then it had gone a bit silent again, though he would visit more often than not, his anger now subdued as he stalked you, mainly out of curiosity. He would visit your dreams and allow you to do as you pleased unless you directly asked for him to show up, which he would oblige your wishes if he were having a decent day. 

It was a slow process, something completely out of both of your comfort zones, but it was a curve that you both decided to try, even if it meant that there would be complications. So long as you kept that amazing open mind present, Freddy was more than willing to see where things would lead.

All he knew was that he deserved nothing less than hatred, but now, there was a spark that would gradually grow with each passing day. And just maybe there would be a day where he could return those words to you, but you both had all the time in the world.

[starkeristheendgame]

Complicated Boyfriends and Cute Waiters

Just a little something for @starkerchemistry​ for all the love she threw at Complicated Boyfriends and Kidnapping. Also, pls reminds Chems of how amazing her work is bc the lil shit disagrees >:( Also for @starkerintheparker​ because I keep converting her to WinterSpider >;D WinterIronSpider.

Tony takes one look at his waiter and sighs heavily.

Not because there’s anything wrong; no. In fact, the plush lips and the shaped jaw and the mop of curls desperately styled into something resembling purposeful mess is actually quite pleasing. The large, honey eyes that widen in recognition don’t hurt either.

No. It’s because Tony knows Bucky is going to take one look at this twinky little slip in his smart shirt and his tie and he’s going to want.

And Tony so had been looking forwards to a quiet evening. A little wine, some $80 salmon and perhaps even getting dicked down into the next fortnight by his boyfriend. The standard casual night in.

“Mr. Iron Stark” the boy whelped, and immediately flushed scarlet at his mishap. Tony could only smile quietly into his book, endeared if a little mollified.

“I think ‘Tony’ would suffice” he responded demurely, sliding the bookmark into place and setting his book aside. The boy was now stood bolt upright, and had obviously steeled himself into giving the Best Service Ever, though he looked a little like he might crumble if Tony so much as looked at him for too long.

“Oh, god. Right. Yes. Mr - I mean, Tony. Of course. I’m sorry, I’ve only just started this job and I’m not used to...” The boy trailed off, clearly trying to think of a way to say ‘people like you’ without it coming across as a little insulting. Tony flashed him an easy, warm smile.

“Breathe, kid. I’m just like anyone else in person, I promise. How about you start me off with a nice, fruity red bottle and two double Presidential 25′s, if that’s okay? Take your time; Lord knows my boyfriend certainly is” he teased, head tipping as he disarmed the boy with another dazzling smile.

His waiter could only gape, before he shut his mouth with a painful sounding clack and spun on his heel, fleeing to the nether-regions of the employee zone. Tony gave an amused sound as he checked his phone. It wasn’t like Bucky to run late; that was Tony’s thing.

And then, like Beetlejuice and undoubtedly because Tony had been thinking of him, Bucky came sauntering into the restaurant like some sort of underwear model. His suit was a deep, silken black with a slightly lighter floral pattern in the fabric, the jacket hanging artfully off his shoulders as he swept the room for his lover.

His hair was styled neatly, and Tony still loved the more modernised cut that he’d opted for; longer on one side, layered and fluffy with bangs that fell over one eye constantly. His stubble was a neat shadow on his jaw, and his eyes focused on Tony with such intensity as he approached that Tony lifted a brow.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to out-do me” Tony greeted as he leaned back in his seat, enough that Bucky could duck down and suck his lower lip into his mouth for a brief but promising kiss.

“Actually, I’m just trying to do you” Bucky shot back shamelessly as he slid into his seat, one leg immediately finding Tony’s under the table to press against. Tony gave an indignant sound, because it was both a truth and a lie, but let it go as movement caught the corner of his eye. Much as he wanted to watch the boy approach, he turned back to Bucky.

Storm-grey eyes slid away, following the path his own had left, and oh, yes. There it was. The subtle up-down of Bucky’s lashes as he sized up the boy, the curl of a smirk at the corners of his mouth. Bucky’s gaze drifted back to Tony in an undeniable stake of predator-prey. Tony could only tip his head in response, smirking slowly.

“H-here. I’m so sorry it took a while” the boy fretted, balancing a tray neatly on one hand as he set a tumbler of whiskey opposite each man, complete with artful glass freezer cubes and an empty, polished wine glass besides that, setting the bottle of red - freshly corked - in the centre of the table. He had to lean over a little to do so, and you would have had to be blind to miss the way that Bucky leaned back to sweep over his body.

“What did I say, darling? Treat me like any other rich shmuck in this place. And don’t mind him, he only bites if you ask nicely” Tony hummed, gesturing to his boyfriend, who eyed him both like he wanted to throttle him and kiss him senseless. In Tony’s experience they often came one with the other regardless.

“I - Sorry?” It came out as a question, but the boy was flushed from hairline to shirt collar and fumbled with his notepad, hands a little shaky as he produced a pen from his breast pocket. “Um, are you ready to order? Or would you like me to give you another minute?” He asked, and it was impossible to miss the way his gaze flit between them, eyes raking their bodies like they were two cuts of steak he was trying to decide between.

“Oh, I think Bucky knows what he wants, alright” Tony purred in obvious, gleeful amusement. Bucky smiled at him in a flash of canine, but didn’t miss a beat as he tipped his head back, eyeing the waiter with a charming smile.

“I’ll settle for the stripped, gold-crust steak served rare, and your name, since this moron was clearly too impolite to ask”. And ooohhhh, wasn’t that a low blow to gain favour? Tony pressed the toes of his Louboutin’s into Bucky’s own none too gently.

“Peter” the waiter blurted, eyes flitting between them as he scribbled down Bucky’s order in impressive short-hand, gaze drifting to Tony, who only smiled serenely at his boyfriend.

“You’re so predictable. Always going for the tender, high-class meat. Always liking it raw” Tony purred, and they both knew he wasn’t talking about the steak. Bucky only gave an elegant shrug in response; at a loss to deny it. Peter was looking between them again, vaguely like he might know they were talking about sex, but unable to address it.

“What can I say? I like something solid to sink my teeth into. I like a little juice to lick at and taste. And you of all people know I prefer it raw” Bucky replied steadily, gaze not leaving Tony’s.

“I’ll have the salmon, please, Peter.” Tony hummed, gaze leaving Bucky to look sweetly up at the boy, who nodded and turned, striding away like he was desperate to run away. Tony let his gaze drop back to Bucky. “Less wolf, more fox. He’s a skittish young thing. Haven’t I taught you anything about hunting?” He sighed in mock admonishment and Bucky reached across the table to cup his jaw, smirking.

“Doll, I was fucking people in back-alleys long before you were born. You taught me nothing, old man”. And, well. Rude. “You’re right, though. We might spook him off at this rate. Last time I saw someone that red it was Clint, and he was choking on a mint”. Bucky leaned back, picking up his whiskey and taking an indulgent sip.

They made comfortable small-talk over the time it took for their meals to arrive, Tony lamenting the boredom he’d faced at the quarterly performance review and Bucky noting the progress he and Steve were making with their veteran programs. Tony was proud of his man, really. He’d come so far since Steve had shown up at the Tower with him, both sopping wet and bloodied.

Peter came back no longer than ten minutes later, a plate upon each hand. He delivered Tony’s first, bending down to slide the plate onto the table, and Tony couldn’t resist leaning over, flashing a sweet smile at the boy up close, where he could see flacks of green in his eyes. “Thank you, darling” he murmured, and Peter’s cheeks went red yet again, like Tony simply speaking to him was an activation button for a blush.

Bucky, the brat, had to go one extra. Instead of giving Peter room when the boy bent down he crowded in close, practically licking the shell of the boy’s ear as he whispered a sultry "Thanks, Doll”. Peter’s gaze jerked to Tony, alarmed, but Tony only half-rolled his eyes and picked up a delicate mouthful of smoked salmon.

“You’re a pest” he noted, once Peter had stammered his way into retreating once more. “I had a quiet evening planned” he added, as though it mattered. It didn’t. This practically was his quiet evening, he just now had two desserts instead of one. By the way Bucky eyed him, he knew that, too.

“Shut up and eat your fish” Bucky drawled, popping a cut of dripping steak with tiny flecks of gold powder into his mouth. Obnoxious prat.

But Tony did as told, polishing off the salmon and whiskey both, and filling their wine glasses with a generous serving. It was sweet and rich, just his taste, and he wondered if another waiter hadn’t advised Peter on which choice to bring. “So. The choice is yours” he announced after a pause, when Bucky had finished his own meal and was sniffing daintily at the wine.

“You wanna play sheepdog, or am I?” Bucky asks in answer, lips curving into a wicked smirk that has Tony grinning in response, leg twisting around Bucky’s in a hidden touch. Tony shifted his wine glass in response, allowing a few measly drops to fall onto the edge of his jacket. Good thing he wore grey and hated this suit anyway, because that red wasn’t gonna come out.

Bucky only rolled his eyes, because they’d played this game before, and pushed to his feet. “Woof woof, bitch” Bucky murmured, low into Tony’s ear as he passed, and Tony resisted the urge to drag him back by his hair, to put him on his knees right then. Largely because of he had one more PR disaster this month Pepper got his custom Audi, and he only had four days to go.

It took another short collection of minutes for Peter to come practically skipping over; during which Tony had splashed a few more drops for good measure. “Oh, Peter. D’you think you could help a clumsy old man out? Buck’s gone on a phonecall and I tipped my wine” Tony pouted, putting on his best helpless, sweet aura. Peter’s eyes zeroed in on the red splashed at his hips, tongue peeking out like the solution was to lick it clean.

“Of course! I can - I’ll see if there’s any stuff behind the bar? I can be right back” Peter breathed, but Tony shook his head, pushing to stand. Peter’s eyes are wide now, like a startled deer. They’re stood close enough for Tony to note he has almost a full head on the boy. For a man who’s boyfriend towered over him, it made him rather smug.

“Oh, no need for all of that. Just come to the men’s with me to help me dab the wet patches, hm? At least I won’t reek like a wine cellar on the way home”. He added a charming smile for good measure, turning on his heel. He didn’t need to look to know Peter would follow obediently. Refusing Tony Stark wasn’t good for business, after-all.

Bucky is perfectly concealed when he swings the door open, shrugging out of his jacket and listening to the clack of another polished shoe on the tiles as Peter steps in after him, practically vibrating with nervous energy. Tony carelessly draped his jacket over the edge of the sink and begun to run the tap, because what was a story without details?

Peter hovered closer, clearly unsure of why it would take two men to wash a jacket. “I - What do you need me to do, Mr. Stark?” The boy asks not a moment later, and Tony can’t bite back a grin. Peter has wandered around to his right, which means when Bucky makes his dramatic entrance, it’s gonna be behind the kid.

“Oh, nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you do want to, then just stand there and let me make you feel good, hm?” He asked, head tilting as he turned off the tap and took a step closer. The hitch of Peter’s breath is audible.

He doesn’t step away, though. Interesting.

“Y-You’re here with your boyfriend” Peter whimpered, even as Tony’s hands came up to his shoulders and chest, petting gently. He trembled under the touch, but didn’t back away, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. Over Peter’s shoulder Tony can see Bucky swing around the edge of a stall door, prowling quietly closer, but he doesn’t dare look up, doesn’t dare alert Peter of the predator at his heels.

“I wouldn’t worry about hurting my feelings, Doll” Bucky purred, low and raspy in Peter’s ear as he pressed up against Peter’s back, until the boy was a pretty little sandwich filler. Peter actually yelped, driving forwards into Tony’s chest, and Tony let his hands fall to slim hips, holding him steady.

“Now, Bucky” he chided, voice softening. “What do we do before we play?” He asked, arching a brow as Peter panted between them. Bucky cast him a pouty but gentle look.

“We ask for consent” he hummed, metal hand reaching up to gently brush aside a curl when Peter whipped around to face him, lips parted.

“Good boy” Tony murmured, gaze dropping back to Peter. They take a step away from him in unison, giving the poor thing some room to breathe. “So. That means you can tell us to stop, and we’ll walk out, pay our bill, and we won’t approach you this way again. Or...You can say yes, and we’ll be gentle, but we’ll make you feel good” he continued.

Peter shifted between them, looking cautious but also like he was two breaths away from sinking to his knees. His voice is small, rough when he finally speaks. “If...What will you do? To make me feel good?” He whispered, and Tony and Bucky wore matching, slow smirks.

“Well. I’m more of a practical person” Tony drawled, eyes roaming Peter’s face for confirmation. He found it in a weak nod, the boy’s pupils blowing as he advanced closer and reached out, him and Bucky closing Peter between them once again. Peter was small between them, lips bitten and eyes wild as Bucky reached down, sliding metal fingers along the curve of his ass and between his thighs, rubbing there like you’d finger a girl, his other hand winding around to press flat over Peter’s stomach.

A wrecked, torn sound slips from Peter’s throat, practically collapsing against Bucky as Tony’s hand dripped down, palming over the half-hard bulge there none too teasingly, the other hand cupping his jaw and tipping his head.

“We’ve maybe got five minutes or less” Tony breathed, licking into the corner of Peter’s plush, pink mouth as Bucky pressed up against him, dropping to mouth at his neck. “I can think of a few things to do”.

[intheshadowofwar]

K.B.O. - 28 June

So here we are on our first day of co-curated learning, which is a thing I only found out existed this morning.

We’ve been over the new plan; all things going well, we’re still going to be able to get out in the field, even if it is just in the Canberra region. Cowra was mentioned but I think some of us may be a bit skittish about going out of the ACT (although if they locked down Cowra I’d be very surprised indeed.) Can’t promise anything, but I’ll lobby as hard as I can, and if things look better next week, the chance may exist of getting somewhere in regional NSW.

We proceeded on to a lecture on Everybody’s Favourite Boondoggle, the John Monash Centre at Villers-Bretonneux (or VB for short.) VB is the site of a battle (technically two battles) fought at the ‘gates of Amiens’ in 1918. The initial German assault in early April was halted by a mix of British and Australian troops, but it’s the counterattack from April 24 to 27 that people mostly remember. Two Australian and one British brigade, alongside Moroccan forces under French command and supported by tanks, pushed two German divisions from the town and stabilised the front around Amiens; one of a number of battles that marked the end of Operation Michael, the first of Ludendorff's Spring Offensives.

It was also the site of the first tank-on-tank engagement in history, so naturally there’s a metal song about it.

Flash forward to 2010 and the beginning of planning for the centenary of the First World War. Some countries were more invested in this than others - Germany spent six million dollars on the whole affair, about $2 per dead soldier. France spent about $50 per fatality, Canada about three to four hundred… and Australia spent $8889. Using enough money to buy Simpson and his donkey a business-class ticket to London, they built a big, triumphant museum under the Villers-Bretonneux memorial - literally under the graves buried there - at a cost of $100m, proclaimed Australian victory in WWI, and named it after our favourite general, John Monash.

There’s a few small problems with this. One; John Monash wasn’t at Villers-Bretonneux. General Sir Henry Rawlingson was in overall command, with the key Australian commanders being Major-General Hobbs and Brigadiers ‘Pompey’ Elliot and Glasgow. But I guess ‘The Talbot Hobbs Centre’ doesn’t quite capture the imagination.

The second problem is that, while the Second Battle of Villers-Bretonneux was important, it did not win the war. German offensives continued into June, and only ended with defeat by the French (with some Americans) at the Second Battle of the Marne. The Germans were attacking on a wide front, and the majority of the men stopping them - at great cost - were British and French. The Australians aren’t the only ones to claim their one battle stopped the Germans - I’m looking at you, US Marine Corps - but we’re probably the only ones to build a gigantic obnoxious museum about it.

The third and most notable problem is that someone decided that building a giant ‘huzzah for the Anzacs, the Manliest of Men’ with a big light-and-sound show, simulated gas and artillery attacks, faceless ‘Huns’ and immersing patrons in the killing of said ‘Huns’ under a war cemetery was somehow in good taste.

I could rant long and hard about this thing and I haven’t even seen it in the flesh. Perhaps that means I’m being unfair. But there are dead Australians and Britons in that cemetery who I feel have been treated unfairly by the cemetery. (And don’t get me started on the omission of the Moroccans, or we’ll be here all day.)

After that, we did comparative presentations on how other countries marked their centenaries; usually with somewhat more taste (Britain), a touch of awkwardness (Germany) or an exclamation of ‘oh yeah, we were in that war, weren’t we?’ (the USA.) We watched an interview with Jay Winter (an American memorial historian and Bruce’s spiritual liege) and Michael Roper (a British historian, although it is unknown if he is anybody’s spiritual liege.) There was a break in the middle of this - I went to buy lunch and bought three books, and no lunch. 

I also got gifted Niall Ferguson’s The Pity of War; the jury’s still out on if I was just being used to offload a Niall Ferguson book onto but the gesture was certainly appreciated. (For those curious, the other books were The Beauty and the Sorrow by Peter Englund, A World on Fire: Britain’s Crucial Role in the American Civil War by Amanda Foreman and Hue 1968 by Mark Bowden. Hopefully I do not get them confused and end up picturing British redcoats charging machine guns in Vietnam.)

At the end of the day, we watched Peter Weir’s Gallipoli. I have opinions about this film. For the uninitiated, the movie (made in 1981 and starring a young, pre-racist Mel Gibson) follows two Western Australian blokes (in a suspiciously South Australian-looking WA, I might add) as they enlist in the 10th Light Horse, train in Egypt and eventually fight in the Gallipoli peninsula, notably in the disastrous Battle of the Nek.

On one hand, Weir is one of the best cinematographers in the world today - one just needs to look at my favourite historical movie, Master and Commander, to get an idea of just how good he is. This is an exquisitely directed film. Despite my knowledge of 1900s railway rolling stock exposing the fact that they filmed in South Australia and not Western Australia, everything looks as authentic as is possible for it to be. Gallipoli looks dead on. The last five minutes of the film might be the most powerful and devastating ever seen in a war film. I should love this film, and yet…

The characters are more caricatures, which I think is intentional but it’s also hard for me to care too much about them. There are a few standouts, like the main character’s uncle and the Light Horse major, but then there’s the three infantry guys who I honestly could not tell apart. There is a sequence of the main characters wandering around the desert which adds nothing to the film except to pad the run time - I do not feel I liked the characters more after this ordeal, in fact I think I liked them less. The sequence in which the Australians take leave in Cairo has aged like fine cheese, with the Egyptian people pretty much reduced to an orientalist stereotype (such as a ‘comic’ moment where the Australians wreck an Egyptian vendor’s shop for scamming them, only to find out at the end of the scene that they’d been in the wrong place.) The strategic context for the Battles of Lone Pine and the Nek is mostly off (it was a diversionary attack, but for the New Zealanders, not the British), and the line about the British standing around drinking tea at Suvla Bay is not only inaccurate, it’s downright insulting.

For context on that last one, there’s a quote attributed to Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett about the attack on Scimitar Hill at Suvla, where the British 11th and the long-suffering 29th Division lost 5,300 men. He describes the undergrowth around the wounded set alight by artillery; “When the fire passed on little mounds of scorched khaki alone marked the spot where another mismanaged soldier of the king had returned to Mother Earth.”

Hardly a tea party.

And yet, that last scene - and particularly the image of the bayonets rising out of the trench, the ground before them thick with the dead and wounded of the 8th Light Horse that went before them… 

So yes, I have complicated feelings.

Tomorrow we’re out again on the memorial landscape of Canberra - of particular, the Jerrabomberra Wetlands. Which aren’t actually in the suburb of Jerrabomberra. It’s very strange.