#i tried so hard to hold my ground but its impossible when they are so dismissive and loud | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer.

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.”

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him.

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.”

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said.

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?”

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.”

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant.

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.”

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!”

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped.

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.”

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?”

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.”

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?”

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight.

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s. “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!”

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning.

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while.

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk.

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows.

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.”

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand.

Just what was happening? What had you done?

Eywa, it had to be sky people.

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind.

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline.

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known.

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought.

It was mom.

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix.

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you.

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off.

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father.

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point.

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches.

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you.

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin.

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired.

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life.

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word.

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain.

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right.

Got an ikran for nothing.

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it.

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone.

A ticking time bomb.

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful.

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction.

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know.

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way.

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety.

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves.

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily.

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to. “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you.

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories.

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony.

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it.

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.”

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!”

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air? “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry.

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute.

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance.

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking.

And you fulfilled his wish.

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily @n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 2 months

Text

Familiar Faces

Tech x Reader

Summary- Techs death was not a reality you were ready for, you relied so much on his love. After months of grief, you find he might not actually be dead.

A/N- SPOILERS FOR TBB SEASON 3 EP 7. I know nothing is confirmed about Tech, but watching this newest episode has got my brain working overtime with fic ideas!

Word Count- 2,708

The cart creaked across the rail line, sending shivers down your spine. There wasn't much keeping all of you up. Inches from falling thousands of feet to your death. The clouds didn't help either, you couldn't see anything.

You fired away, missing most of the time. Everything was happening so fast. A mission gone wrong. Your thoughts were stopped by Hunter's yelling.

"Three ships inbound!" He informs, even when you saw nothing in the sky- you trusted him. He knew better than any of you.

Shortly you heard them coming, the roar of the engines were loud. Soon followed by it's blaster's shaking the cart.

"Tech we need power!" Hunter commands. You work on pure adrenaline and fire at the ships closing in.

One of them is shot down, but not before it knocks out one of the support hooks. You feel the ground shift down, leaning.

Like a breath of fresh air, you hear Tech's voice. Him yelling back "Echo, Now!" was enough to calm you.

"We're online!" Echo retorts. You can't help your grin rising. Finally, things were looking up.

Though, you didn't need Hunter to tell you three more ships were headed your way.

"Tech, hurry." You called out.

You and Omega blasted at one of the new ships, effectively destroying its wing. It crashed down in a black smoke.

From this black smoke a fourth ship came. It was too quick- it shot at Tech, who was still running towards you. He gave a yelp as he fell off the support beam.

Your eyes widened as you gasped, body craning to try and see him. He had a hard landing, but was standing to his feet on the falling compartment of the cart.

It rumbled and shook, about to crash down.

You ran to the back of the cart, trying to get closer. "Tech!" You watched in horror as he tripped back with the rest of the detached pieces.

His grappling hook barely caught onto a stray metal piece. His body bounced back at the tension. "Don't move! I'll pull you up." You tried to reach his line, but it seemed impossible without everyone toppling over into the abyss.

"I-I can't reach!" You called over comms.

"I will climb up, do not risk falling over." You nodded at this, forgetting he couldn't see you. He was more worried for you than himself.

"Come on Tech, hurry!" Wrecker booms, coming over to see what the status was.

You could feel Tech roll his eyes, "I am climbing as fast as I can!"

His grunts break your heart, he panted as he tried to pull himself up. Storm troopers still fired all around you. One of the blast forcing Tech to fall even further.

"Tech!" This time it came from Omega. Your heart was beating too fast to think and speak. You were so worried.

"Why aren't we moving?" Hunter asks Echo. "The cart is being ripped from the back."

The very cart Tech was holding on to for dear life.

You frantically looked to Hunter. "Wrecker, get him on board!" He instructs.

"No, you're too big." You push past Wrecker to take a step on the falling cart.

It creaked loudly, almost giving out. "NO! Don't!" Tech yells up at you. Your eyes connect through the ripped metal. "Any shift in weight could send both of these carts over."

Incoming ships shoot at Techs line, he dropped down again.

"You must sever the connection hinge. Now!" Tech says.

Your face falls. "Are you crazy! No, you'll go over!" Tears welled up in your eyes. There had to be another way.

Another creak and shift. You were almost thrown over by the rocking.

Tech gave out a heavy sigh. This time he spoke gentle, saying your name. "There is no time..."

"Tech, please no!" You begged. He pulled out his blaster, not looking away from you. He was going to sever the connection himself.

"No!" You screamed, desperate. Your tears were falling faster than ever.

"Plan 99... I love you" He started. With a deep breath you yelled, "Don't you dare!"

"You can't! Please!" You sobbed, still trying to get closer. You heard Wrecker straining behind you, he was trying to hold the falling cart up.

"When have we ever followed orders?"

A shot rang out, he fell.

A piercing scream erupted. You almost didn't recognize that it was your own.

Your instincts kicked in and you tried to leap down, like you could still save him somehow. Wrecker was too fast and caught you, his arm throwing you back into the safe cart.

"No, NO let me go!" You tried to fight off Wrecker, but he was far too strong. He pinned you down easily.

You were hysterical, arms wailing at anyone who kept you from jumping after him. Later, when you were thinking straight- you'd thank them.

"He's gone, he's gone!" You sobbed out, devastated. Your screams filled the air, shocking a few storm troopers close by.

Echo wired the cart to start moving and get everybody to safety.

That was months ago. Just the thought could bring you to tears. You had lost everything you felt the reason to live for. He was your everything. His incompetence for social queues, his punctual speech, his stupidly intelligent brain. All of it was yours, and now it was all gone.

A deep depression fell over you, the only thing driving you was Hunter and Wrecker. They inspired you how hard they fought for Omega. It warmed your heart in your worst times.

It hurt immensely when you heard his name, but it got easier to get out of bed. It got easier to smile again.

Eventually, you reconnected with Omega and started defending Crosshair. Something that was typically Tech's job... You knew you had to take on more responsibilities and make up for the time you were down.

You constantly wondered if Tech would be proud of you.

You and the rest of The Batch found yourselves helping Rex, then... escaping with Rex. An enemy assassin leading the Empire to us.

The nine of you hurried down a secret passage way, to a leach vessel.

The soft clicks of the steps soothed you in some wicked way, even when everyone was running for their lives.

"Stop!" Crosshair yelled out. You turned to look at him, he took a few steps back to look out a carved hole in the stone. "They are coming..."

Just then, a shot rang out. Another assassin hung from the inner walls.

Crosshair ducked behind the wall, "Go, I'll handle it."

The rest of the squad moved down, but you stayed. "I'll help."

That was until you peaked around the hole, getting a glimpse of the man. A rush a deja vu consumed you. Your breath quickened. Why was this man so familiar?

You pushed it down, you had already let your feelings get the best of you too many times. It can't happen again. You fired at him, Crosshair backing you up.

Crosshair put an explosive at the end of his shotgun, catching the man off guard. It threw him off the wall. The two of you headed to the ship.

A blast to the ship sent all of you crashing down. You briefly heard Rex sending Echo a message about an extraction.

Commotion ensued, but it all ended with you falling and getting a bad headache. Your helmet did not do much to cushion the hit.

The rest of the team was briefly recovering from the crash as well, but you had to get a move on.

"We've got attack shuttles inbound." Hunter noted.

"This way." Rex lead.

You traveled on foot in the woods, trying to lose the storm troopers. Fighting them off was light work. One however, stood out from the rest.

Crosshair proved your suspicions when he frantically turned around, gun raised.

"What is it?" Hunter questioned. He got his answer when the assassin shot at us.

With our numbers down and the assassin having the upper hand, Crosshair suggested "I'll draw his fire out. Get to the rendezvous."

You heard Omegas small voice through comms, "I don't like that idea..."

"Too bad." He responds, already crouched behind a rock to fire.

Looking at Omegas worried gaze, "Go, I'll make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

Omega nods at you, then joins Hunter's side. Crosshair just grunts in acknowledgement.

In truth, Crosshair didn't need you. Though, you both knew that Omega needed the peace of you fighting with him. Two verses one had much better odds.

You heard Rex commanding the rest of the squad to move out. You and Crosshair pursued the assassin.

He gave out hand signals, letting you know he was above you. You nodded, sneaking around.

The assassin saw you easily, perfect. He was distracted just enough for Crosshair to get a hit on him, knocking his balance off.

Your face dropped when the assassin recovered in record time, it was like he hadn't even been hit. He now caught you by surprise when he shot at your hand, you lost your weapon. Damn. All you had left was a blade, which you now grasped.

To your dismay, Crosshair had already taunted the assassin away from you. No doubt on purpose.

It took you a minute to find them, Crosshair had followed him to a waterfall. One with rapids at the bottom. The booming of the current was distracting.

You crouched down, keeping a low profile. Crosshair and the assassin fought vigorously. When you saw an opportunity, you jumped.

You tried to get your blade around his neck or at least cut his suit. The assassin was stunned for a second, giving Crosshair time to recover.

The man disarmed you, overpowering you in strength. You fell back with a thud, your helmet flying off. You scrambled to stand, but was forced to stay down because of a stray blast. It just missed your head.

The assassin seemed to know every single move Crosshair made. Like, he had studied Crosshair's fighting technique multiple ways, There was only one man who you knew did that, and he was dead.

The stranger knocked Crosshair to his knees, a gun to his head.

The man now looked to you, ready to dispose of you as well.

You sat up, but did nothing to fight back- fear of him shooting Crosshair.

He however, stopped in his tracks. You just stared, confused. He looked to you, maybe in disbelief?

He, not moving his gaze, stunned Crosshair. You were in shock that he didn't kill him... The thud of Crosshairs body made you jump.

You slowly rose to your feet, you somehow didn't feel threatened by the man anymore.

Now that you stepped closer to him, he stepped back. He seemed to be fighting with himself... Throwing his blaster as far as he could away.

His hands moved to grip the sides of his head, in pain. He stumbled back, head barred down. With a loud 'thud' he fell on his rear.

He scratched at his helmet, trying to take it off. Something inside of him wouldn't let him. He was in turmoil with himself.

Did you feel pity for the man? You slightly shook your head, baffled at what you saw. He was so vulnerable now, you should have killed him for what he did to Crosshair. At least Stun him.

You couldn't find it in yourself. He looked so confused with himself, so conflicted. Your heart wrenched, but why?

Your own actions shocked you, stepping closer to him. You lowered yourself to your knees, inches away. You were skeptical but determined.

He stopped his frantic movements when your hands moved to his head. He let you do as you pleased, frozen in place.

You kept your eyes on him as you gently lifted his helmet. You only got it up enough to see the mans eyes, a deep brown. That and his face structure was enough to tell you who it was.

The face you spent hours drooling over, embarrassing stares caught at, nights laying with. The very face you saw fall thousands of feet down to a cloudy abyss.

You gasped loudly, scrambling back. No, NO. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him...

Your reaction seemed to have broken him out of his haze. His helmet fell back down, covering his face. He, almost instinctively, moved to you. You were too shocked to fight back. He swiftly grabbed your wrist, pulling you up.

The grip was tight, you winced. The man realized his mistake immediately and loosened the grip. if he wanted to kill you, why was he worried about your wrist?

When you were sitting back up, the man reclined on his knees. He slowly moved his hands up to the helmet again, this time with more control.

He raised it completely off. It was him.

Both hands moved to cover your gaping mouth. How? HOW?

"T-Tech?" You called out, voice cracking.

He squinted his eyes and had one hand holding the side of his head in pain.

"You must take Crosshair and run, now." He ended by saying you name desperately.

"W-what? No, I am not leaving you. Tech, what happened? How are you alive!" You leaned to him, wanting nothing more than to hold and kiss him.

He moved back, your touch like fire.

"You have to go. I do not know how much longer I can hold off the chip. I do not want to hurt you." He looked at the ground, ashamed.

"You won't. I know you won't..." You moved closer again, resting a hand over his. You slowly moved it off of his head, holding it. He breathed hard.

"Any better?" You ask. "Yes, I would suspect my will to keep you safe overrided the new chip the Empire has put in my head." You smiled, finally leaning forward to hold him.

The second your arms wrapped around him, you sobbed. It all felt like a dream- well, nightmare.

"I thought you were dead... Tech, oh my Tech." He hugged back, petting your hair. You both frantically proclaimed 'I love you's.' But, he soon pulled away.

"I will not put you at risk any longer." He moved to stand up,

"I just got you back, why are you leaving me?" You couldn't understand.

He stood up, saying your name in a whisper. "I thought I made it clear. My new inhibitor chip is stronger. I am assigned to kill you. I do not want to do such a thing, ever."

"Tech, just please come with me. Rex is with us, he can help remove this one. Just like the others..." You grabbed onto his arm, pleading. How did he expect you to walk away, leave him behind. Especially when you just figured out he was alive.

"I suppose that might work..." He rested a hand to his chin, thinking. More tears flowed from your eyes, he was exactly how he was before. Always calm, always thinking everything through with a steady heart beat.

You looked up at him. "Please, I need you. I-"

"I know. I need you too. I uh- I apologize for shooting you." He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "You didn't mean to.." You leaned up to kiss him, but something switched in him.

His face twisted and turned, he stepped back. He was fighting himself again, now a hand reached for his blaster. He looked up, face cold and blank. He pointed the gun at your face.

"Tech, Tech, it's just me!" He didn't care, he had a mission to fulfill. The chip was regaining control.

Suddenly, his body quivered and shook. He fell to the ground. Crosshair stood behind.

"Please don't kill him!" You ran to him, making sure he was aware of the situation.

"I know, his chip... I'll carry him back. Rex can look at him." You were hopeful, he was coming home.

It would be a rocky start, but he was alive. He was alive and half-conscious. That was a problem for when you got back on the ship.

For just a second, watching Crosshair hoist Tech up, you relaxed. The pounding of the water on rocks soothed you.

He was alive...

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I hated the ending, sorry ya'll had to go through that. I didn't know how to end it! I was so motivated with this plot, then kind of lost it. Expect a Crosshair fic this weekend!!!

Tags- (LMK if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

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mikobeautifulheart · 2 months

Text

JJK men when you think they would hurt you (But they wouldn't) Part 2

TW: Unestablised past where someone hurt you physicaly enough to leave a mental scar

INCLUDING: YUTA AND GOJOOOOOO

Unedited and reblogs r 👍

♡Yuta♡

"Ah-" you said feeling a wound open on your side, you had just fought to the last ounce of your strength in Shiburyia making it out alive but not unscaved. You almost believe to death and it not been for Yuta, who was currently out getting you some more supplies. You lied on the bed feeling guilty and helpless. You watched people die, you got injured and Yuta is stuck looking after you until you heal, he could be saving people right now he's so much stronger then you. If only you had been stronger, and knew it was impossible in that moment but you didn't want to burden everyone, especially not Yuta.

"God. Curse this world." You heard angery muttering at the door. Yuta must have returned.

You jear him throw something hard at a wall making a thump. You swallowed, your the reason he felt irritated right? Your the one holding him back aren't you?

The next sound you hear is something smaching, shatter pieces of the object bouncing across the ground and more angery muttering.

"Yuta...are you okay?" You said steadily getting up and walking toward the noise.

"DOSE IT SOUND LIKE IM OKAY Y/N??" He yelled throwing the pieces he picked up back onto the ground.

"I WORKED MY BUTT OF IN AFROCA TO GET STRONGER AND HERE I AM, HES CUBED, HE GOT DAM CUNED AND I CAMT DO ANYTHI G ABOUT IT!" He yells looking at you.

You shut your eyes trying to keep your mind sound. It's okay it's okay it's okay it will blow over.

Before you knew it Yuta walked over to you frustrated going to pick up the broken pieces that landed near you, only making you freeze before he suddenly got to close making you flinch.

He stoped.

Did you...just flinch? Did you flinch because of him? Did you think he was going to hurt you?

"I-" his mouth kept opening but nothing came out .

Feeling helpless he tried to communicate though hand signals, raing his hand at eye level making you step back quickly against the wall.

"No Y/N it's not-its not like that, I would never hurt you." He said with his own tears welling.

You broke down.

"I know Yuta, I know you would never but it's just, I can't help it!" Your eyes looked at him spill out all the tears you felt build up the whole week.

He searches your face desperately for any sort of forgiveness, anything that would let him wipe your tears away. You let your head slump over into your hands when you felt his hand gently touch your waist, making you hiss in pain.

His hand flinched back seeing your blood stain through your shirt, how did he not see this beofre, it was just a big red patch that he was to angery to notice.

"Look Y/N I'm going to use my reverse curse technique on you okay? Can I just touch your waist?" He asked desperate for you answer.

You nodded through tears, he gently touched you like you would break under his hand, and slowly you felt your side healing up.

"'M sorry.." my mumbled falling onot his arms out of exhaustion.

"No, I'm sorry" he said pressing a kiss to your head.

▪︎Gojo▪︎

You sat in his apartment waiting g for him, dinner on the stove turning cold. You noticed that Gojo had been more stressed lately being put on more mission and preventing Yutas execution. As a result his funny demior began to diminish.

You heard the door slowly creak open and a tall body walked into the kitchen slumped over.

"Satoru? Are you okay? I made dinner if you want me to heat that up for you or I could-"

"JUST SHUT UP FOR A MOMENT Y/N"

The room was silent. Your hands trembled as you got up.

"Okay, I'll be in our room if you need anythjng" you said about to walk of when

"I NEED A GODAMN BREAK, I DONT SEE YOU GOING ON MISSIONS ANYMORE? WHAT HAPPENED HUH? GET WITH ONE OF THE ELDERS OR SOMETHING BECAHSE NOW ALL YOUR WORK IS GOING TO ME, BUT IM THE STRONGEST, I CAN LIVE WITH THAT RIGHT!?" He yelled ripping his blind fold off and slaming his hand into the kitchen counter.

You flinched, ripping at the ends of your sleves you tried to say something but nothing would come out.

He noticed you flinch with his 6 eyes making him feel guilty immediately. He had just put you in the most uncomfortable position and practically acused you of cheating, yet you didn't defend your self or even talk back.

He turned around facing to taking fast steps toward you before his hand reached out to take a strand of your hair when he heard you whimper

"no, please, no" your eyes screwed shut and face turning to the side, away from Gojo.

He stoped pulling his hand back.

"Did someone hurt yoy before." He asked trying to get your eyes back onto him.

"It was along time ago...in sorry I can't help it..." You sighed tears slowly falling as you stared at the floor, your hands now angry ripping at the hemm of your shirt.

"I'm sorry." He sighed again reaching his hand out to you, but you flinched back again, realising you were now cornered.

"I-i know you won't hurt me it's just, I can't help it anymore Satoru, I want to forget about it, I want to be normal and love you like a normal person, I'm sorry, please just forgive me." you slid down the wall pulling your knees to your chest and burring you head into them.

Gojo was taken aback. He was the one who should be apologiseing right now, he should be the one begging you for your forgiveness, it wasn't right.

"Y/N" He said slowly going down to your level.

"I'm so sorry, I should be asking for your forgiveness, you love me more then I could ever imagine anyone else, you love me more then a normal person would ok a relationship, your to good for me, please forgive me. " He said.

You turned to him with the most decimated expressin Gojo thought the was going to find the person who hurt you and kill them, but you came first.

"Satoru, I'm tired" you say.

"So am I" he gets up only to pick you up bridal style carrying you into into bed room as he softly cried, face nestled into his neck.

"I love you more then you could ever imagen" He chokes out feeling guilty for everything he had done.

"I-I love you to" you say still crying slightly arms wrapped around his neck.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHORS NOTE: idk I might make another part but I got 1 more fic to finish...the Angst Gojo fic haunts me right now. Any ways that's for reading.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojou x reader #okkotsu yuta #yuta fluff #jjk yuta #yuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu

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itjazzbicch · 7 months

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Beneath The Surface

Pairing: Shunsui Kyōraku x Reader

Summary: Considering that the reader has been dealing with an illness, they are not as strong as they once were, desperate to be strong again as the war against Quincy's rage. Becoming hopeless, they begin to find some hope beneath the surface when their best friend lends a small hand with their emotions...

Warnings: The reader is sad, and mentions of death & illness (it's just a hurt/comfort fic) TYBW spoilers if you haven't watched!

Word Count: 0.9k

My heart was breaking with every step when I dragged my cane along the rubble-covered ground. These Quincy's must've gone all out. Meanwhile, I was sick and barely able to walk.

I had never been so disappointed in myself, unable to bear the horrific sights that were now the Seireitei. Dragging myself back to my grounds, I wasn't allowed to due to my illness, but I took my zanpakuto, then went out to the shriveled-up garden where I once trained daily.

Pulling my zanpakuto from its sheath, it looked dull, the memory of the first time I held it in my hands flashing in my mind. How strong I was back then and how that strength led me to be a captain, once upon a time the strongest.

The longer I stared, the more I hated being who I was now. Fragile and weak, a burden rather than a fighting force, considering everything we knew was at stake. Those thoughts made me angry, sick, and shaking as I used all my strength to wield my zanpakuto.

"Talk to me, please," I whispered, trying not to cry, the shaking growing worse, "P-Please."

Nothing.

No matter how badly my body tried to give way on me, I stayed in stance, breathing heavily as I yelled in an attempt to build some motivation:

"I refuse to be so weak! Please! I need you!"

Again, nothing.

Using up my energy, I fell to a knee, the tip of my zanpakuto in the ground and clinging to it as I cried, begging it to talk to me somehow, to make me strong again.

"I'll do anything, just-"

"Y/N flower?"

Shunsui's voice brought me to silence despite the tears rolling down my cheeks, only listening:

"You know that you shouldn't-"

"I can't sit around and tolerate this anymore, Shunsui!"

It was becoming hard to breathe from the tears making my throat close. I knew precisely what Shunsui would tell me, and he should've known how I would react.

"I know that you're dealing with much more than your illness," He sighed, joining me on his knees, a hand on my back, "But we both know that-"

"What? That I'm weak? That I'm useless?" I couldn't look at him, clinging to my once mighty zanpakuto, "It won't even speak to me anymore."

"Stop talking like that," Shunsui was always trying to keep me optimistic, but given the times we were going through, that was impossible.

"It's the truth," I wept, drowning in those negative thoughts, "If I was strong enough, I could've done something. We lost so many, and Old Man Yama-"

The devastating memory of when I learned about Captain Yama's death made me start to sob, collapsing, but Shunsui caught me, holding me to his chest.

He knew that I needed to get this out of my system, only rubbing my back and hugging me as I cried:

"I hate this. Why did I have to get sick?"

"If I could change things, I would," He whispered as my cries settled, "But know, sick or not, you're much stronger than you think."

Finally, growing the courage to look at him and seeing his eyepatch added to that guilt as I was always protective over him. I tried my hardest to take in his words profoundly and believe I was strong like in the past, but it was challenging.

"You've had a lot to deal with since you took charge, Shunsui," I sniffled, cleaning my face, "Don't-"

"Crazy to think that after all the long years we've spent together, this is the first time I'd ever seen you cry," He realized; the thought never occurred to me, and our gazes connected, "I may be head captain now, but you're still my flower too."

His words made tears swell again, an arm wrapping around my head and holding me tight, clinging to his floral robe. Despite what little tears I had left coming down, I finally saw some light in my dark world:

"Flowers aren't just delicate, you know? They're not just beautiful, either. They weather through storms and may lose a pedal or two, but they grow back as beautiful as they were before. They have an unspoken strength."

I stared off into space as I related to his words. It may not be happening as quickly as I'd hoped, but maybe the strength I once possessed was slowly returning to me.

"How many terrifying challenges have we conquered, huh?" He whispered, kissing my cheek, "Remember that you're strong."

"I'll try," I whimpered, watching him place his hat down so he could hug me tighter, our heads together as I whispered, "I love you, Shunsui. Never forget that."

"That's good to know. Thought I'd have to wait another century or two to hear those words," He joked, and it did get a slight chuckle out of me, but seriousness settled in, thankfully the good kind, as he stroked my cheek, "I love you too my beautiful, strong flower."

"I promise from now on," I breathed in deeply, looking towards becoming better rather than drowning in sadness, "Every day till I'm gone, whether if it's this illness or by someone's hands, I'll never give up."

"Finally got some fire in your eyes," He mumbled with a smile, giving me more motivation to keep that promise as he kissed me softly, "I know you won't. You never have."

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

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wittyminds · 8 months

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Show Me the Way Home

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Anonymous:

Hey I’ve just seen you’re requests are open, could you write something angst and then fluff with Bradley, maybe they’ve both been snapping at each other and then they make up? Xx

CW: Angst, fluff, endangerment of life (idk)

A/N:

This is my first ever fic so please be nice :)

I've never written angst before so it was a gamble as to how this would go. So... enjoy?

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Of course, everyone knew accidents could happen in the air but they're never expected. Especially this one.

But being surrounded by a dozen of very experienced pilots it was hard to remember about the dangers of flying and how one small mistake could take someone away from you.

Rooster had been watching your progress through the course with unwavering attention, staring in awe as you shot through the entire thing flawlessly. You were the best pilot here by far but even the strongest have to fall every now and then.

Literally.

He knew that placing Hangman with you had been a mistake as the two of you had been at each other's throats for years. A "friendly competition" back in their first ever course had led to a not so friendly rivalry that everyone knew about. Which made the situation even worse. When two competitive pilots are in the air it's all bound for disaster.

Maverick had set them all the task of shooting down two target planes, each earning them 'kill' points. Hangman had been determined to beat you but you were confident that both those points were yours. It was meant to be a team building task but the two of you were against even wishing the other good luck.

There had been one target left, leaving the two of you whizzing around, determined to leave the other in the dirt. You had taken the other one down moments before Hangman would have, resulting in a rather amusing string of expletives from him.

You had been chasing the final target, Hangman gaining speed on you when it happened.

"Hangman, Wraith, this is a team task! I don't want to remind you again!" Marverick's voice rang through the intercom but you didn't listen. You were so close, your target slowly circling the aircraft in front of you.

Rooster realised he had been holding his breath as you strained to close in on your target. The table groaned as he clenched his fist round the feeble wood, the surrounding pilots exchanging knowing glances.

"Just a little further." Your voice muttered through the intercom.

Hangman, who had been quiet for too long, suddenly sprung up in front of you, sending your concentration haywire. Was it too much to ask for a clean shot?

"What the hell, Hangman?" You gritted your teeth in frustration, slowing down so you didn't collide with his rear, "I nearly had him!"

Hangman only smirked, you could feel it through the intercom.

"And let you get all the kill points? I don't think so."

The target plane swerved to try take you off its tail but you both followed it, only slightly unnerved by the sudden change of direction. You could hear Hangman muttering as he tried to get a clean shot which seemed impossible at the new angle.

"This is bullshit." He muttered, suddenly pulling up to get a different angle.

His sudden manoeuvre had left you to fly straight through his jet wash with no warning.

Your plane broke into an uncontrollable spin, everything around you blurry and dizzying. A series of panicked yells escaped you as you spun and Rooster shot out of his seat, ice cold dread drenching his entire body. The room stilled to a deafening silence as you tried to eject from the aircraft.

"Wraith! Can you hear me? Wraith!" Maverick yelled but you were too panicked to answer, still trying to locate the ejection handle.

Rooster couldn't watch, your plane getting closer and closer to the ground with no sign of slowing. The thought of what would happen if it hit the rocks below with you inside-

His feet carried himself out before he could register it, the door swinging shut behind him as he marched out the building and to the safety of his truck.

There, everything would be fine.

You and Rooster had been catching feelings over the past months, each glance lasting longer, each graze of the hand full of electricity. There were moments when you would both lean in instinctively after quiet moments together only to realise how close you were before pulling away.

So, it stung when you stepped out of the emergency aircraft, dizzy and half conscious, to not find Rooster waiting. Your heart had dropped at the sight and you stumbled through the doors into the building with only the dream of his arms there to hold you.

After numerous questions and glasses of water, you were given a lift home from Phoenix. She had become the equivalent of your sister but even she didn't want to prod the wound of Rooster's disappearance with questions. You stepped out of her car with a tired farewell, to be greeted by the comforting sight of your home.

Inside there was ice cream, chocolate and far too many rom-coms to keep you distracted.

After a warm shower that would definitely raise her bill a ridiculous amount, you climbed down the stairs in your favourite sweater, a pair of slippers keeping your feet warm from the sudden change in temperature.

The weather had gone from clear to sour in a matter of hours, much like your mood.

How could he leave in a moment like that? When you weren't even sure if you would make it out?

Your thoughts were broken by a frantic knock at the door, the sound clashing with the thundering rain outside. You paused the film, halting Julia Roberts moments away from kissing Richard Gere.

You shrugged the blanket from your shoulders, shuffling the short distance to the door to notice a large shadow huddled under the small overhang above your door. You didn't need to guess who it was for a second as you swung it open to reveal a dripping wet Rooster, holding his jacket over his head.

A thousand thoughts erupted in your head and your nostrils flared.

"Oh, so you do remember me?"

An expression of pain flashed over his face but it was gone in a blurry second.

"Can I please come in?" His voice was pleading and you opened the door wider so he could shelter from the furious pelts of water.

As you shut the door again, he lowered his jacket from above his head to fold in his arms. He ran a hand through his soaking hair, the movement sending a slight jolt through you.

"I just want to say, I feel so shitty for leaving, Y/n. I really do." As he rambled on, you got a proper look at him, not listening as he continued to speak.

His eyes were wide, giving the impression of a puppy being told off for the first time and as you studied him, you noticed his knuckles were stained a slight red.

"What happened to your hand?" You interrupted him quietly and he froze.

You crossed your arms and frowned at him, waiting for a response.

His eyes fell from yours and he rocked back on his heels nervously.

"I punched...." His voice trailed off into a mumble and you strained to hear him.

"I swear to God, Rooster, tell me." Your voice rose and he sighed loudly through his nose.

"I punched Hangman!"

The words rang through the air and your arms fell from their knot. Anger flared in your chest and he rose his head to meet your eyes once more.

"You... what?" You spoke slowly and carefully, taking a step toward him.

"I punched him, alright? He was careless and could have killed you!" Rooster's voice rose and all signs of being nervous disappeared.

"No, not alright! It's not your duty to stand up for me! You clearly didn't feel the need to be there when I got back!" Tears stung your eyes at what he had done but you blinked them back.

"I had to leave! I couldn't stay in that room!"

Anger clouded all your judgement, all you wanted was for him to explain why not punch the guy who had accidentally sent your aircraft spinning. Why did everything have to be so difficult for the two of you? Why couldn't you just settle the stupid argument and get back to Julia Roberts?

You scoffed at him, "Right, because watching the plane go down was so much worse than being inside. What was so awful about the accident that you had to leave? Why cant you just let it go?"

"Because that's exactly how my dad died!"

Every retort building up in her faded with his words. He had never openly spoken about how his dad died except that he had been in a flying accident.

How could he not have told you this in your many deep conversations? Surely it should have come up at 3am with a bottle of vodka clouding your judgements. Maybe it was just one of those things that was meant to be forgotten in the soft, tender moments.

"How was I supposed to know that?" You finally uttered, too shocked to consider how he felt.

"You didn't, I know. But it scared me that you were up there in exactly the same position he was in before it happened." You could see his eyes swimming with tears, only he didn't blink them away.

"Then I don't understand how you're mad at me! It wasn't my fault!" Your voice suddenly went higher than normal and you fought to keep your emotions under control.

"I'm not mad at you!" His hands flew up to his hair and his jacket landed on the floor with a dull thud, "I was just terrified because the person I love most in this god damn world could have died and there was nothing I could do about it!"

You waited for his words to sink in and finally let tears roll down your cheeks.

"Y-you love me?" You whispered, all memories of anger flitting from your mind.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes. You waited for a reply but he only muttered a series of incoherent words before picking up his jacket and shuffling past you to open the door.

Thunder rumbled angrily as he stepped back into the rain, drowning out any words said. You were too shocked to move or go after him. His words kept playing over and over in your hand, a broken record of what you had been hoping for for weeks. But all he said as he slammed the door behind him was a simple, "I'm sorry."

And then once again, he was gone.

As the door slammed, you flinched at the noise and watched his figure storm back to his truck. Rain battered her windows and you ran a hand through your hair in frustration.

You don't know what came over you, probably the countless romance films and books you had indulged in, but you found yourself wrenching the door open and running into the freezing cold rain. Your sweater was drenched in seconds and you squinted through blinding droplets as you sprinted towards Rooster.

He had just about made it to his car but you could catch him. Thunder drowned out your footsteps and when you tried to call his name, the wind howled over you.

Finally, you reached him and breathed out one last call of his name.

He turned round to see you, eyes sad and shoulders heavy.

"Y/n, I'm so sorr-"

But when you reached him you didn't even think before pulling the front of his shirt to lower his lips to yours. In one smooth movement you kissed him breathlessly, his hands flying to support your waist and hip. He didn't kiss back but just as you pulled away, his grip on you tightened, keeping you in place. Your heels lifted from the grass as he moved into him, bringing him closer.

This is what it should have always been. The two of you. Safe in each other's arms.

Just like the movies.

One of his hands moved up to your hair, cupping your head gently as his lips moved in an easy rhythm against yours. Rain ran down your faces, thunder sounding as you blocked out the rest of the world.

All that mattered was the two of you in this moment.

You both pulled back for air, resting your foreheads against the other's as you panted. A relieved laugh escaped you and you pressed another quick kiss against his lips. Your arms had snaked round his neck and you stood staring at the man before you, still processing what you had done.

"Rooster?"

You were too breathless to speak properly and he hummed quietly, nudging your nose with his.

"Take me to bed now, or lose me forever."

Your smiled as he kissed you deeply again, suddenly lifting you up to wrap your legs round his waist. Another laugh escaped you at his goofy grin but he cut you off with a kiss.

"Show me the way home, Y/n."

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krysta-cross · 8 months

Text

Bihan’s punishment 2

⚠️Warning: smut, filth and some violence incoming so minors or anyone who ain’t comfy don’t read on

The wind god brought you into the temple, tend to your injuries and asked you to get some rest but it’s been hours since you have been trying to get some sleep after all the events that happened which you still find hard to wrap your head around.

You phased around trying your best to catch some shut eye but failed. You got tired of tossing yourself around the bed that you sat back up and decided to go out for a walk and breathe some air outside,hoping it will help induce sleep.

As you slowly and gently walked the wooden floors of the temple to head outside, a pair of eyes follows you as you have successfully made your way out and venture into the gardens.

You looked up the dark night sky riddled with a few stars as your hand brushes the bushes on your side, feeling the leaves on the palm of your hand. It hasn’t been long since you went outside when a gush of icy cold wind blew on you, slightly lifting your robe making its way on your skin. You shivered a bit and rubbed your hands together, thinking that maybe it’s a bad idea to go outside during this time as it got colder. You blew your warm breath on your palms and as you turn around after deciding to go back in your room, you saw a shadow of a person standing beside the tree, with the moonlight slightly illuminating his silhouette you recognized him.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” you asked, annoyed as you try to calm your wildly pounding heart due to shock and fear that washed over you thinking you were being followed by some serial killer only to see Bi-han walking close to where you stopped to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“Maybe I am, isn’t that exciting Y/N? Did it make your heart pound faster than normal? Haha….” he said in a teasing tone which annoyed you more so you threw a sharp stare at him to show that you didn’t find it funny. He met your dagger sharp gaze and closed a few distance between you as he lifted your face up from your chin. “Looks like you didn’t like my joke, Y/N but I find that annoyed expression you are showing sexy I could just bite you right now…” his warm breath washed just above your lips, sending a sparkling sensation over you which softened up your gaze.

“I could’ve died with it so it’s not funny at all!” you exclaimed as you swat his hands off your chin and walked past him to head back to your resting area like you planned earlier.

Bi-han lets out a short laugh and used his arms to lift you up from your waist to stop you from walking away. This has taken you by surprise and tried to escape his grasp by pushing his arms off you but he is stronger and no matter how you push his arm to free yourself it didn’t budge a bit.

You flail your feet which were afloat as he is holding you slightly above the ground, your back touching his warm body as his grip tightened while you struggle to break free.

“Woah, stop resisting now before you hurt yourself, kitten. Remember what I told you before?” the blue clad man whispered near your ear and you felt like all of a sudden you were drained of all the energy you put up together just a while ago to escape, it seemed like your body immediately knew that escape is impossible.

He loosened up his grip on you and put you down, this made you think he is letting you go so you take one step away and he yanked you back, you almost lost your balance so you leaned on him as you almost tumble down face first so now your head is resting on his chest, you can hear his heart beat going faster.

You then immediately pushed him away but he is swift to move and in a blink of an eye he is now carrying you, bridal style.

While you try to process what just happened he said “Enough playing cat and mouse, you are due to a punishment from me. You better be ready to face the consequences of teasing me like that…”

You knew he is threatening you and now your mind is riddled with all sorts of punishment you can think of and that scared the shit out of you, you now beat yourself for teasing him which brought you into this mess you don’t even know how you can escape from.

To those who looks for the 3rd part, here’s the link: https://www.tumblr.com/krysta-cross/726227532798656512/bihans-punishment-3

It has been labeled mature so it’s hidden ^^

#krysta’s fic #bihan’s punishment #bihan x reader #bihanxreader #mk bihan #mk1 subzero

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practicingsmut · 11 months

Text

Hold Me Tight or Don’t

ex!seungcheol x reader, 2.7k words, mostly smut with a dash of angst and a pinch of fluff

“Seungcheol, I can’t do this.” Your words came out half muttered and half whined, influenced by the way Seungcheol had his mouth moving against your neck.

You genuinely couldn't recall how you ended up in this situation. You had come over to his place to pick up the last box of items you had left behind when Seungcheol broke up with you nearly two months prior shortly before he went away for his tour, and then the next thing you knew he had you pinned against the wall in the living room. His forearms were propped on either side of your head to you in while one of his thighs made its way between your legs, keeping a light but constant pressure against your core.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t complicit in the act, however, as your hands quickly found their way up the back of Seungcheol’s shirt, grabbing at his toned back muscles and pulling him impossibly closer to you. In fact, it was entirely possible that you had made the first move, but the feeling of Seungcheol’s body against yours sent the memory of that initial contact spiraling into oblivion.

“You don’t have to do anything, princess. Just let me take care of you,” Seungcheol rasped. His breath tickled your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m serious,” you said, willing yourself out of the pleasant fog his ministrations had settled around your mind. You slid your hands around his torso to be able to push at Seungcheol’s hips and he immediately stopped what he was doing, pulling back to look you in the eye.

His pupils were blown wide and his breath came ragged, unsurprising considering how hard his cock already was as it pressed against your stomach through the layers of clothes between the two of you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You hated how real the concern in his voice came out. He was the one who broke up with you; he didn’t have the right to be concerned about your feelings anymore.

“What’s wrong is that you dumped me, Seungcheol. You broke my fucking heart, left me crying in the rain like it was some movie, just so you could, what, fuck a bunch of other girls on tour without the baggage that comes with cheating?” you accused. Despite being softened by the tears that threatened to spill out of your eyes, your words cut like a knife directly into Seungcheol’s heart.

He pulled back to give you the space you clearly wanted, but caught your hands in his own.

“That wasn’t it at all,” he insisted, voice hard.

“Then what was it?” you shouted. All of the emotions you had been struggling to keep inside surged to the surface. “It’s been two fucking months, I think I deserve an explanation.”

He was still standing too close. You wanted to shove him, but his hands gripped yours too tightly. You knew if you tried to pull away he’d let you, but as much as you hated to admit it, his touch was grounding, comforting even.

Seungcheol didn’t speak for a long moment, and when he finally did his words were prefaced by a deep sigh. “I fucked up.”

“You could say that again,” you scoffed.

“Just, promise to hear me out. No matter how stupid it sounds, I promise you that the reason sounded good to me at the time.”

You didn’t say anything else, but gave him a look to let him know he could and should keep talking. Again, it took him a minute to gather his thoughts.

“I just… thought we were getting too close too fast. Like, we were dating for less than six months at that point and I could already see myself spending the rest of my life with you.”

He was right. It sounded extremely stupid.

“You broke up with me because you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. Right, because that’s a totally normal thought that someone would have.”

“I told you it was stupid! I was scared that we were going to burn out fast, so I thought I’d cut things short before that could happen. I realized how wrong that was and regretted my choice immediately, but I couldn’t just call you up and say never mind. That would just fuck with you even more, so I just went on tour hating myself for the past two months. I thought that maybe when you came over to pick up your things we could talk things out but I think I’ve fucked that up, too.”

His grip on your hands tightened, but he kept his gaze lowered to the floor.

This time you were the one to pause before speaking. “Choi Seungcheol, you are the biggest idiot I know, and for that reason I believe what you’re saying.”

Seungcheol’s head shot up in an instant, sad eyes now tinged with hope. “Please tell me that means you forgive me. I know the idea of it scared me before, but now I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life by your side.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Despite how badly you fucked me up, I still love you. I want to forgive you but I can’t just forget what happened. You need to earn back my forgiveness and my trust.”

“Tell me how to. I’d do anything.” He stepped closer again, eagerness getting the better of him.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Cheollie. Just… do your best and give it time, I guess.”

The corner of his mouth perked up at hearing you call him by his nickname. That had to be a good sign, right?

“Well, how about I start with this?” he asked before leaning in. His mouth met yours in a warm, soft kiss. It was different than the one you shared earlier. Though emotions were riding high both times, before it had been needy and rushed, whereas this one was slow. Tentative, almost. You didn’t often see this thoughtful side of Seungcheol, who preferred to rule his life by his emotions. It was a nice change of pace and you resolved to tell him that later. For now, you had another pressing matter to attend to.

Taking Seungcheol by surprise, you yanked him off balance so that he had to catch himself on the wall. In a moment, the two of you were back in the position you had been in before your chat. It felt even better now that the air had been mostly cleared between you.

“Is this alright?” Seungcheol whispered in your ear as he slid his hand down your side to come to a rest on your hip.

“No,” you said, deciding to play with him a bit. You earned that much after what he put you through. He pulled back immediately, a hesitant and questioning look in his eyes. “We’re wearing too much clothing.”

Seungcheol let out a relieved chuckle, shaking his head and smiling at you. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” Then, without another word he picked you up bridal style, your arms immediately linking behind his neck.

You peppered kisses along his chin and down the length of his jaw as he carried you to his bedroom only to toss you onto his bed. Sitting back to admire the view, you watched as Seungcheol shucked off his shirt and unbuckled his belt, unable to take your eyes off of him as you felt yourself grow wetter by the second.

“For someone who said we were wearing too much clothing, you don’t seem to be in a rush to take yours off,” Seungcheol joked. He climbed onto the bed next to you now that he was stripped down to just his boxers, a grey pair that you had bought him because you knew it would do nothing to hide the size of his cock.

“I want you to do it,” you replied playfully.

“Well if that’s what my princess wants, who am I to say no?”

He took his time with you, wanting to savor each moment that he had missed out on over the past two months. Each undoing of the buttons on your flannel was followed by a warm kiss that chased away the chill that hit your exposed skin. Once your jeans were gone as well, Seungcheol took a minute to admire you, hands gripping your thighs as he drank in the sight he had missed more than anything - you half naked on his bed, sprawled out and waiting for him.

“This is new,” he said, referencing the underwear you wore as he ran his thumb over your core. You flinched at the unexpected contact, wanting more.

You wore a matching set that was too casual to be lingerie, but was still fancier than your day to day underwear. The cotton was a blush pink color with lace accents, cute and comfortable at once.

“Sakura took me out on a shopping spree after, well, you know,” you answered, not wanting to bring up the break up again for fear it would ruin the mood. “She insisted that I buy things to look cute just for myself.”

Seungcheol nodded. “I’ll have to thank her later.”

Without any further comment, he leaned in to press one more kiss against your lips before settling in between your thighs and licking a stripe over your panties. If they hadn’t been soaked before, that action certainly would have done the trick.

Oral with Seungcheol was nothing less than heavenly, to say the least. From the moment his tongue made contact with your clit, all thoughts flew from your head and the only thing you could focus on was the growing tension between your legs.

It seemed like your body hadn’t forgotten what it was like when Seungcheol put his all into eating you out, seeing as he had you cumming against his face in just a few minutes. He licked up all the juices until you started to push him away, citing a fear of overstimulation. Normally that wasn’t something that would stop Seungcheol - he loved watching you squirm beneath him with tears pricking at your eyes as he coaxed you through a third, fourth, even fifth orgasm over the night - but the current situation was different. He didn’t want to push you too far when things were still fragile between you.

Pausing only to take a sip from the glass of water on his nightstand, Seungcheol then settled himself on top of you. He was careful not to squish you while still getting even closer than he had been when you were pinned against the wall. You felt your heart beating in time with his own as his chest met yours.

“How are you doing?” he whispered against your lips in between kisses.

You couldn’t help but laugh in his face. “Fucking fantastic, thank you for asking.”

At that, Seungcheol let out a chuckle, bright and clear and completely devoid of any of the stress or worry he had been feeling earlier.

As your tongue met his you slid your hand down the planes of his abdomen and beyond, slipping past the waistband of his boxers and to the prize waiting there for you.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside of you.” Seungcheol’s voice was shaking as he tried to hold back the whimpers that threatened to spill from his lips as you pumped your hand up and down his cock a few times, swiping your thumb over the head to collect the precum that beaded there.

“Get on your back and you won’t have to wait very long,” you said teasingly.

He did not need to be told twice. Within seconds he was free of his boxers and laying back on his pillows, stroking himself slowly as he watched you free yourself of your bra and panties. With his assistance you lined yourself up with his cock and lowered yourself onto it, matching moans coming out of both of you.

Seungcheol’s cock was a bit longer than average, but where it really impressed was its girth. Normally he’d finger you first, using two or three fingers to stretch you out so you were ready for him, but neither of you had been patient enough for that now.

The stretch of sliding straight onto his cock had you wincing, but you were too much of a masochist to let you get in the way of riding the most magnificent cock you’d ever known. With the help of Seungcheol’s thumb on your clit and his encouraging words, you soon found yourself all the way at his base, where you rested for a moment to give your body time to adjust. You felt him inside you, thick and heavy and hard. After a minute you were ready to ready to fuck yourself on Seungcheol’s cock in earnest.

If you had been a mess under the movements of his tongue, then you didn’t even have the words to describe what Seungcheol was like beneath you. He always talked a big game about fucking your brains out and giving you the orgasms you deserved, but there was a side of him that loved being taken care of as well.

You reached forward to tweak one of his nipples with your thumb, earning a high pitched groan from the man that you took as encouragement to keep going. With hands gripping your ass so tight you were sure it would bruise, he was fucking up into you just as much as you were riding him and you didn’t mind as that freed up your focus to tease him more. With your mouth on one of his nipples and a hand on the other, you knew he wouldn’t last long.

At least, he wouldn’t have if he didn’t surprise you by flipping the two of you over so that he was on top, not missing a beat of his thrusts as he caught your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand. With the other he played with your nipple the way you had his.

“I’m not letting myself cum before you do,” he explained.

It must have been a tall order, given the strain in his voice and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat every few moments as he swallowed. Using all your strength to push your head up with zero leverage you managed to swipe your tongue over it. Seungcheol’s grip tightened and he dipped his head to rest his forehead against yours. It would have been a cute gesture if not for the way he slipped his hand from your breast down to your clit and continued pounding his cock into you just the way you liked it.

“Cheollie, I’m gonna…” you whined, unable to finish your sentence.

“Go on, princess. Cum for me,” he answered. Those words, full of love and lust, were the last push needed to send you over the edge. Seungcheol continued fucking you through your orgasm, and four thrusts later he was pulling out to finish across your stomach.

Without the slapping of skin on skin, the only sounds in the room were the ragged breaths making their way out of both of you. Seungcheol only allowed himself a moment of rest before getting up to grab a towel to clean you up. Only once that was done did he slide into the bed, rolling you over partially so that he could lean your back against his chest and wrap his hands around you.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered before placing a light kiss on the top of your head. It took you a moment to gather enough breath to respond.

“I’ve missed you too.” Then, a second later, “I don’t think I fully forgive you that, but we’ll get there. I know we will.”

You shifted around so you were facing each other, pulling Seungcheol’s body flush against your own and ignoring the residual stickiness it caused.

“That’s all I could hope for, and more than I deserve,” he admitted. “I love you.” He said those last three words as if he were scared of them, or more accurately, that you wouldn’t return them even though you had already admitted to still loving him earlier in the conversation before he brought you to his bed.

“I love you too, Cheollie,” you answered, surprised to find the tension melting not only from his own body but yours, as well. It would be a long road to healing the rift in the relationship, but it would happen. Laying there in Seungcheol’s arms, you had no doubt of that.

#kpop smut #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader

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rachey899 · 6 months

Note

You know how Luke has nightmares about being giant and accidentally hurting people, has Matt every had a nightmare about accidentally hurting Luke while he was tiny?

My Dear Anon

Yes, he has. Though he would never admit it to Luke, shortly after the events of HOME, Luke invites Matt over for a sleepover and Matt feels paranoid as he goes off to sleep, he then dreams of waking to find Luke small.

Approx 1.3k words. just an itty bitty short story. Enjoy!

Matt's Nightmare One

“Dude what happened, why are you small right now? Are you okay?” Matt kneels in front of his friend; it had been a few weeks since he’d last seen him this size and that interaction hadn’t been perfect, but he maintained that he had kept his friend safe. Something in Luke’s little blue eyes however made him feel like Luke was looking through him, like he was a stranger in his eyes.

“Luke? It’s me Matt, you're okay.” Matt lowered himself further to the ground, feeling a sense of dread wash through him as he noted Luke take a few slow steps backwards and away from him.

It reminded him of the feeling left in his heart after he’d initially gone to grab at Luke without warning a few weeks ago outside of their math teachers office. Luke’s eyes had gone wide, and he’d run from him then until he was out of reach under the door. Matt had felt horrible for scaring his friend like that. He’d known Luke was shrinking and promised to be supportive of his friend however his first reaction was to grab him.

“Don’t touch me!” Luke suddenly shouted up at him, Matt flinched as though Luke had just slapped him hard across the face. Why was he acting like this?

“I swear I won’t touch you dude, just chill.” Matt tried again to calm his friend, he noted Luke’s impossibly small chest rising and falling at a worryingly fast pace, this wasn’t working. It made him wonder if this is how Luke felt when he was a giant, just monstrously too big.

A scream pierced the air and Matt watched in horror as a hand chased Luke, causing him to flee in panic, Matt’s heart dropped to his stomach when he realised it was his own hand chasing after his friend.

“STOP!” Matt screamed at his hand, but it did no good instead it only made things worse causing Luke to stumble from the volume of his voice and trip over his own feet, he rolled into a huddled ball on the cold floor, holding his hands tightly to his ears.

“I’m sorry!” Matt cried, his hand would not stop though, it was as though it had a mind of its own, he could only watch in horror as his hand dipped under Luke’s body, nudging it into his palm.

Finally, Matt regained control of himself, he intended to put Luke back on the ground but felt a sense of comfort knowing he was holding his friend safely, maybe now he could convince Luke that he was safe and with his friend.

“Luke, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you, I couldn’t stop myself, I swear your safe and I won’t do it again.” Luke was unresponsive in his palm, the only indicator that Luke was even conscious was the flutter of his miniscule breaths against the base of his palm.

Matt reached for his friend again, this time only a single finger hoping to poke Luke playfully and get a laugh out of him, the reaction he got was far from a laugh though.

Luke’s scream echoed through the room as Matt’s finger made contact with Luke’s side, Luke’s whole body convulsed, and he wrapped his small arms around his waist in pain.

“Luke what- what just happened?” Matt exclaimed, he inched his face closer to get a better look, had he done that? Had he just hurt his friend? He had barely touched him and yet Luke was holding his middle in pain as though he’d just broken a rib.

“Matt STOP!” Luke screamed, this was the first time Luke had acknowledged him by name, recognising him for who he was, but somehow this didn’t make Matt feel any better anymore.

Matt watched in horror as the fingers surrounding Luke began to twitch, Luke’s eyes widened in fear watching and being unable to do anything to stop him. Matt urged his fingers to remain still, but they disobeyed him, slowly closing in on his best friend who was helpless and at his mercy completely.

“Matt please!” Luke cried, tears falling freely as the hand closed around him, Matt felt his small frame hot against his fingers, his chest beating wildly against his skin, every miniscule bone and joint Matt could feel with acute clarity. So fragile, so alive and yet helpless against something as insignificant as his own fist.

His fingers did not relent though, instead squeezing tighter, Luke’s face went red and his breathes came out in laboured pants as his chest was restricted further, his lungs tight with the effort of drawing a full breath.

And then a crack.

Matt felt sick as he watched Luke’s eyes gloss over before they closed completely, and he went limp.

“Luke! Wake up! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” He wanted to shake his hand, shake Luke awake but he was so scared he would only hurt him further.

“Luke! I’m sorry! Please wake up!” Hot tears stung his hazel eyes and he cried, he released his friend from the restrictive grip and let him lay limply in his palm. He was unconscious but still breathing, he’d hurt him, hurt him badly.

“Luke.” Matt’s soft whimper faded out and the image in front of him blurred.

Matt blinked his eyes until the world around him refocused, the rhythmic buzz and whir of the fan in the room blew cold air against his sweaty skin and he stared at the ceiling above him.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, taking in his surroundings and recognising the space as Luke’s spare room in his granny flat. He rubbed a hand over his face taking a few calming breathes as he remembered he had come over to Luke’s for a sleep over last night, the first time he’d been invited over since he found out about Luke’s ability.

“It was just a dream.” He whispered to himself, he looked around again and suddenly felt unsure, scared and alone, so he got up and quietly tiptoed out of the room.

He wanted to see for himself that Luke was okay. He couldn’t shake the sick feeling from his stomach, the feeling of being a monster.

He gently pushed the door open and peeked in, he could see his friend curled up on his large queen bed, he had his fan oscillating as well, cooling the humid room as it was a hot night. The lump that was Luke’s body under the covers rose and fell gently, indicating that he was still asleep.

Matt was about to turn around and head back into his own room for the remainder of the night, the rules were that Matt sleep in his own room just in the rare chance that Luke shift in his sleep. He hadn’t shifted in his sleep-in years, but the possibility was still there, and yet Matt couldn’t get his feet to move in the opposite direction.

Instead, he inched further into the room and carefully slipped under the covers beside his best friend, he hesitated only a moment before wrapping an arm around Luke’s waist and nuzzling his face into his neck. He didn��t care how it looked or what Luke would say when he woke up, all he knew was that he needed his best friend right now and he needed to know he was safe.

A few more tears leaked out of Matt’s eyes before he fell asleep, thankfully his sleep was dreamless as he succumbed to a feeling of peace, enjoying the presence of his friend unhurt and held securely to his body.

#gt #giant #gianttiny #tiny #g/t #giant/tiny #gtfluff #size shifter #lukeandmatt #angst

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bacidipesca · 11 months

Text

first rescue

Inspired by this post by @elitadream , with whose art I’ve become mildly obsessed.

The context I’ve gathered so far from @elitadream ‘s posts: Mario and Luigi fell into the Mushroom Kingdom from Brooklyn and have no way home. Mario eventually gets a job as Peach’s guard and saves her from Bowser, getting seriously hurt in the process. At a certain point, Mario ends up having living quarters in the castle.

The post I’m using as inspiration calls this ‘the first rescue’ so I’ve actually set it before Mario gets his job as a guard—you’ll see. That post also mentions Mario having ‘incredible strength’ so I kind of…went places, but that’s down to my personal taste and headcanons. If anything here is offensive to OP, I’ll take it down immediately and apologize.

I hope that’s everything covered? I hope y’all like it.

The chain chomp was bearing down on them and there was nowhere to run. The little alcove that had been so sweet and private for her morning meetings minutes ago was now a death trap, leaving her only exit blocked by the wild, barking creature ahead of her. Toads had scattered around the garden, frantically trying to get out of its path and find a way to stop it, calling for reinforcements from the armed guards.

She tried to back away and stumbled over the iron chair she’d just been sitting in, landing hard on the grass below, and that was really all the beast needed to focus its attention on her. She raised an arm over her face as the chomp got closer, cringing away from the oncoming danger, too terrified to even scream.

Was her end really going to come like this?

But then—where she expected blinding pain as the chomp tore into her, there was none. Instead there was a sudden, sharp metallic sound as the chain chomp abruptly stopped in its path, barks cut off by its own surprise. For a moment, she wasn’t even sure what had happened, but as heartbeats passed with no injury, she opened her eyes. She peered around her arm and realized that the chomp’s eyes were rolling with confusion as it strained against whatever was holding it back. Her arm trembled and buckled beneath her, sending her down to her elbow, and when she looked up again she could see who her savior was.

Mario had hold of the chain chomp’s chain, feet planted firmly in the ground and digging holes into the grass as he furiously fought to keep the beast under control. She could only stare as he grit his teeth, pulling with all his might to keep the creature back from its target. Her heart thundered in her ears at the sight—how was that even possible…? It could take up to eight Toads to hold back a domesticated chomp, let alone a wild one—and this one was most certainly wild, given the size.

With a grunt of effort, he took a step back, replanting one of his feet. He let go of the chain with one hand, grabbing it further up, and pulled.

The chomp jerked back, letting out a confused whine.

He did it again. Opposite foot, planted behind him. Opposite hand, pulling the chain. The chomp left a deep trench where it tried to resist. Hand over hand, he pulled the creature back and away from her, arms straining under his shirt with each impossible step. The Toads had stopped running, even the armed guards that had arrived could only stop and stare as they watched.

After another heart-pounding moment of watching him struggle, the fight abruptly drained out of the chain chomp. With another whimper of confusion, it went slack against Mario’s grip and settled onto the ground with a final thud, jaws closed and eyes staring blankly in opposite directions. The Toads quickly sprang into action once they realized it had calmed—they needed to move quickly to get it contained and re-released away from the castle.

Mario, though, dropped the chain the moment he realized the chomp was no longer fighting to get to the princess. He ran around the deep furrows left in the ground by his own feet and skidded to a stop by her side, where she was still sprawled in the ground from her fall.

“Princess! Dio mio, you alright?” he asked.

He reached out for her, helping to steady her as she sat up, and she stared at him shamelessly as he did, unable to muster words. He didn’t seem to realize what he’d just done—did he even know? Did he know how strong chain chomps were, how dangerous?

If he had…would he have cared?

“Princess?”

He squeezed her hands and she blinked, realizing that she hadn’t answered him. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but she looked down at their hands again and her voice caught in her throat. His hands were so much bigger than hers, and so much stronger than they appeared. Could she feel it in his fingers now? The power to hold, even pull back, a wild chain chomp?

She threw her arms around Mario’s neck, pulling him in close. “Thank you, so much,” she said, almost too choked to speak as she worked through the last of her adrenaline.

He seemed frozen for a long moment, perhaps because he didn’t know what to do with the sudden affection, but then she felt the gentle warmth of his hands settling on her back. He stroked his hand down her spine.

“You’re alright, Princess,” he said softly, very close to her ear, and she closed her eyes for a moment to relish the reassurance. “You’re safe, now.”

She really did feel safe. With his arms around her, the scent of his aftershave tickling her nose, she felt nigh on untouchable. She’d never felt like this before in her life. She felt greedy for wanting more of it, for being disappointed when she felt she finally had to let him go.

After a long moment, she pulled back from him—though she didn’t let go of his hands. She found herself reluctant to completely lose contact, as though she was afraid he might disappear if she did. She looked into his eyes, and her heart throbbed at how much tender concern she could see on his face. He really was one of the sweetest, bravest people she’d ever met. She’d invited him to today’s meetings because she’d hoped to see more of him, but she never expected something like this.

She opened her mouth to speak, to thank him again, to tell him how amazing that was, that she’d never seen something like it in her life. Instead what came out was:

“Please, won’t you join my guard?”

#mario #princess peach #mario x peach #mareach #super mario brothers #mapeach #super mario brothers fanfiction #my writing #mario x princess peach

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emsprovisions · 1 year

Note

Telling them they deserve better for the GM prompts :D

friends to lovers prompts

Part 2: Gus's Boyfriend (Link to part one)

A few months had passed by now and Gus was still dating that stupid Leviathan guy. Matt tried not to think about it too much, because he stewed every time he did and he didn't want to push Gus away just because he hated his boyfriend.

The issue was that Leviathan was hanging around more and more with their group of friends. He was showing up to move nights, dinner after games, even the library for study groups.

He always asked Matt how he was doing and how his classes were going. He took an interest when he saw the Blademage sticker on the front of Matt's binder. He said it was one of his favorite series growing up. This only made Matt hate him more.

Blademage was his thing. He couldn't stand the thought of Leviathan prattling off to Gus any Blademage lore. Actually, he couldn't stand the thought of this guy prattling anything off to Gus.

Like seriously, the guy was so amicable that it was like impossible to actually know anything about him. What made him tick? What foods did he hate? Has he ever fought with his siblings? Did he even have any siblings??

Matt seriously could not imagine what sort of conversations Gus and Leviathan had together on dates. It just seemed like small talk was inescapable with the guy. Other than a pretty face, what did Gus see in him???

Matt couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. They’d been in the Graveyard all day and Matt had been trying to think over how to say it, if he even should say it. But if he didn’t get it off his chest it was gonna eat him alive.

“So,” he began. “How are things going with Leviathan?”

Gus glanced up from his perch on a rock. He’d been working on homework. He looked a little surprised that Matt had asked.

“Things are good, I guess? Why are you asking?”

“No reason…” Matt looked back down at the ground and the constructions he’d been practicing for his test on Monday.

Gus put down his homework and got up, stretching his legs and moving closer to Matt.

“You don’t like talking about him. Why did you ask?” He raised a suspicious eyebrow to stare Matt down.

Matt met his gaze, those dark, stormy grey eyes that always seemed to pin him where he stood. Gus’s eyes were like looking into a storm. Only, they had a softness to them too. Gus was soft and sweet. He was the perfect guy. He was funny. He was smart. He was everything.

“You deserve better,” he blurted out. Realizing what he said, his eyes widened and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

Gus just stared at him. His eyebrows furrowed inwards.

"What do you mean?"

Matt shook his head, refusing to speak, looking intently down at his feet.

"Matty," Gus breathed, stepping closer. "You can talk to me."

Deft fingers lifted Matt's chin, forcing him to once again meet Gus's stormy gaze. Matt swallowed hard. It all became so clear then. He didn't think Gus should be with Leviathan because he wanted Gus.

He was in love with Augustus Porter.

And it was maddening.

It's not like he really deserved Gus either. In hindsight, Gus probably did deserve someone as nice as Leviathan. But he'd been so jealous–even now jealousy gripped his heart with its awful tentacles–he hadn't realized that's what it was. He just thought he'd had Gus's best interest in heart.

Only now, staring at Gus's lips, he realized he'd only ever had his own interest at heart.

He licked his lips, parting them as if to speak, but no words would come out.

Gus tried again, "Is that why you don't like Leviathan? You think I don't deserve him."

Matt nodded, cautioning a look into his eyes.

"Do you want to know something?" Gus asked.

"What?" Matt croaked.

"I only started going out with Leviathan to try and get over someone else. It's dumb, I know. But this other guy I had a crush on, he's my best friend. And I was too scared to tell him how I felt, because I was scared maybe he didn't feel the same, or maybe it would ruin our friendship if I did."

Matt stared at Gus, now his turn to be confused. "Who–?"

"But what's worse," Gus continued, holding up a hand to cut Matt off. "My feelings for him never went away. In fact, I think they've gotten kinda stronger and it's kinda awful because I just feel like maybe I'm leading Leviathan on, and maybe I should end things and just be honest with how I feel..."

He took a deep breath and met Matt's eyes. "...How I feel about you."

Matt stared dumbly at Gus. He was so close he could feel Gus's breath on his cheek.

"You-you like...me?" Matt choked on the words. What he'd been hearing felt impossible.

Gus nodded and let out a humorless laugh. "Terrible isn't it?"

Matt surged forward in that instant, grabbing Gus's face between his hands to crash his mouth against Gus's. He pulled back just as quickly as he realized he'd just kissed a guy that technically still had a boyfriend.

"Oh, fuck. Gus I'm so sorry–"

Gus grabbed his hands. "I'm gonna go break up with Leviathan right now. Can we meet up tonight?"

Matt nodded. "Y-yeah," he said breathlessly.

He was certain he didn't deserve Augustus Porter either, but by Titan did he want to try. Gus stared at him a little longer, a smile on his face, Matt's hands still cupped in his.

#Im sorry im so fucking insane for this one #gustholomule #toh fanfics #toh drabbles #toh #emsprovisions

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allw3doisadvert1se · 2 months

Text

Life, Death, and Back Again

I died.

I was dead.

And now my body breathes again …

It all happened so fast. First I was leaving the apartment complex I had woken up in, sneaking my way down the impossible streets that seemed to turn an endless number of times on itself, trying to find someone I knew … anyone.

The streets are not empty as I thought. Once I was on the ground level walking along the streets, I saw hundreds, perhaps thousands of shadowy shapes walking along the sidewalk in silence. They didn’t seem to notice my presence, though I tried to get a few of their attentions. In the distance I could hear what sounded like a commotion of some kind, though it was hard to distinguish what noises were real over the constant droning hum this wretched place seems to give off (maybe it was just in my head).

It took far longer to reach the source of the shouting than the volume would imply. It was like a current was dragging against my movements, stretching the streets longer than they seemed. Nevertheless, I eventually turned down an alleyway to see a sight that truly shocked me.

Swatch, the once butler of her majesty, was stood atop the shoulders of … a suit. No, suit doesn’t properly describe it, this thing was a TITAN. It had to be easily over 25 feet tall, covered in vibrant metal plates and among the machinery, Spamton’s proportionately small head was poking out of a hole on the top. He was laughing maniacally, while Swatch was shouting commands as they were being attacked by these humanoid figures that were glossy black and covered in sharp spikes like a sea urchin from head to toe. (Note to self, save the name Void Urchin for a later categorization of the anomalous entities)

Realizing I had accidentally been pulled into a fight, I tried my best to stay out of Spamton’s way when he fired blasts of energy from his hands at the creatures. As the fight progressed and more of these things spilled out of the walls (WHICH IS NOT HYPERBOLE, BTW), I ended up on my own, blocked off from the others by a large amount of entities. I could hold my own for a little bit, and these things were luckily receptive to ad-based attacks, but there were just too many …

One closed the distance, and before I had time to put up an AdShield it stabbed me in the gut with one of the large spikes protruding from its palm. I thought I felt pain when I woke up here, but it was nothing like this. Every nerve ending in my body felt like it was being branded in white hot flame. The wound was quickly beginning to emanate this pulsing black energy, and I guess Spamton must’ve heard me screaming, because a moment later a massive blue egg slammed into the entities near me, sending them flying back. (Can’t for the life of me remember what he called them …)

I guess we had killed enough of the entities because the remaining ones were finally starting to retreat, but the energy on my wound was becoming quickly more agitated as the pain somehow grew worse. Swatch had noticed my injury at this point, and he strangely seemed to recognize it. He ordered Spamton to “put her out of her misery before that thing collapses.” I tried to get them to stop, but I was quickly turned to ash once Spamton turned his arm towards me.

… Here I am now. One cycle later and I’m alive once again.

I need to find Swatch and Spamton again and get them to explain what the hell they shot me for, and more importantly what we need to do from here.

Hopefully those things don’t come back …

-Everest

#creative writing #the cift #deltarune au #everest #A.B.Y.S.S takeover #the simulacrum

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justpeaxchy · 2 years

Text

(hey, listen to my recommend song to read with <3)

Izuku who fantasizes what it's like to hold your hand when he first falls in love with you.

Izuku who, once you start getting closer, wonders what it would be like if you were his.

You were so close, yet so far at the same time. You were right in front of him, within his grasp, but he couldn't bring himself to make the move. The one move that could make you his.

There were times when he reached out, every time it ended up in failure. Surely, you weren't this clueless? Or maybe it was because you truly just didn't see him the way he wanted you to. Oh, how his heart yearned for the day you would fall head over heels for him like he did for you.

Each time you walked into the classroom he felt his heart do summersaults, beating at a rate that could shock anyone. How hard had he fallen? He often questions himself. And why he did so. Perhaps his heart had a mind of its own.

Even as he worked, your features would make its way into his mind, easily distracting him from what he was originally doing. It was dangerous grounds when he had a pen and paper in his hands when you came to mind, to say the least. On most days he scribbles down little details about you he catches. You're just mesmerizing. And that wasn't even your quirk.

He hoped that you wouldn't find the small notebook he got just for you, pages filled from top to bottom describing how beautiful you were as a person. He wrote on and on about your personality the most, your appearance was just a bonus. A really big bonus.

But it seems the world has different plans for him. The day he forgot to put that exact notebook away was when you had a project to do. Izuku Midoriya, who's known for his strategic planning, forgot to simply put away something that could ultimately decide where your friendship would lead.

And it didn't look like it was going down a road he wanted.

He came back with a few snacks in hand, giddy about spending time with you. Once he opened the door he thought his eyes were deceiving him. You, the one he admired for so long, held the very thing he never wanted you to see. Your reaction could've been funny out of context, but to him it was the end of the world.

"H-hey, midoriya." You looked like you saw a ghost just slam the door open instead of him. He saw the anxiousness start to arise in you just by looking at your eyes. The same ones that had him swooning. He mustered up the courage to finally speak, knowing very well you probably read enough from the first couple of pages, "How much..did you read?"

Your head almost immediately dropped towards the floor, hands fiddling with each other. "Listen, I think..." You stopped, debating what you would say next, "maybe we should study tomorrow? I'm pretty tired tonight from all the training, y'know?" You chuckled, trying to hide the awkwardness rising in the atmosphere.

Izuku knew what you were really trying to say. He knew from the very way you laughed. It didn't sound like your usual one that was genuine. He let his bangs cover his face as he stared at the snacks in his hands. Still being the gentleman he is, he moved out of your way and opened the door for you.

"Yea, that's alright."

Without another second wasted, he saw you jump up from your seat and hastily walk past him, leaving him alone with his somber heart that once chased after you.

Izuku, who threw away his notebook filled with everything about you, tossed it in the trash.

Izuku who, that day, also threw away all his feelings he had for you. At least, he tried to.

Oh, how hard it was for him to forget what he held for you. Every time you walked down the hallway or into class. Every time you mentioned his name. Every time you simply walked past him, his heart broke a little. There were few words exchanged between you two now, making it impossible for him to be around you without wanting to cry on the spot.

Izuku, who wonders what it would've been like if you hadn't read his notebook.

✓

#i was writing this to be wholesome but ig my hands thought differently #maybe i should write another one where it's positive 🫠#eh #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #deku x y/n #mha midoriya #mha x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku

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evolutionsvoid · 10 months

Photo

Imagine you are a bird, fluttering through the forest. Zipping through the air with your usual grace, navigating the twisting branches and shrouds of leaves. Finding your way around these woods is a breeze for you, but your sense of direction isn't the thing bothering you right now. It is a rumbling stomach, whining for food. Though your elegant wings give you mastery of the sky, it also burns through your fuel incredibly fast. You need to eat, but what is there to satisfy your appetite? Foraging on the ground is a risky situation, there are many agile and hungry predators down below. Instead, your eyes look to the branches, hoping to spot something tasty. Up there it will be much harder for fang and claw to reach you, especially on the thinner tree limbs. And then you see it! There! Like a lighthouse on a foggy night it cuts through forest's shadow! Fruit, vibrant and succulent! This tree is rife with it, more than enough to fill your belly! You find a free branch to perch upon, right next to a ripe looking meal.

As you hop closer to inspect your meal, the branch bounces and sways. You do not fear it breaking, at least not with your light body. It is better that this branch be precarious, as it means larger hunters cannot approach. A quick look over shows the coast is clear, and your lunch is ready to be served. But as you are about to plunge your beak into the bright colored flesh, the branch shifts bizarrely. Before you can react, something lunges at you and fangs cut through feather and flesh. In an instant, you are crushed and swallowed. "How can this be?" you ask, except wait no you don't you're dead. Okay, before bird you dies you ask yourself "how can this be? I checked my entire surroundings for sign of a possible threat and detected not a thing!" Well to that I say, hold on, I don't think birds talk like that. Yes, I know birds can't talk, I mean if you translated them into our kind of talking, they probably wouldn't sound like that. Bird you would probably be like "SQUAWK! IMPOSSIBLE! SQUAWK!" Ah no, it wouldn't talk like a person and bird at the same time, that is just silly. Now bird you might be thinking- oh forget it! A bird landed on a branch to eat fruit and got eaten instead! You ask what could do that, and I say let me tell you right now!

So one would think that the thing that ate the bird crept up on it while it was investigating its meal, but in truth, it was there the entire time! Bird you, I mean, the bird we followed didn't realize it was already on the branch when it landed! Our subject for this entry is a crafty one, as it uses camouflage to hunt. But if you think the bird would have been safe if it perched on any other branch, you would be wrong! The creature is already there, waiting for its chance to strike! But how? Is it that fast, able to zip from limb to limb in order to pick off prey? Or is the whole tree infested with these nasty predators? Well, no, there is no group of hunters haunting this tree. It is, in fact, one single creature, but one with many arms! Or I guess you could say "heads," since our mystery predator is a kind of hydra!

Due to it being a member of the hydra family, some folk call it a "Wood Hydra" or a "Branching Hydra," but I tend to stick to the name the locals of the region give it: Ladon. It has the usual anatomy found in hydras, with the many beaked tentacles mimicking serpentine heads while the true one lies at the center of it all. It has clawed fins and a long mantle that has stretched into a slithering tail. What sets it apart from its brethren is its gnarled look, where its body and tendrils are covered in twisted, knotted growths. Add in a brown coloration, and you could mistake it for an old twisted tree if you squinted real hard. As the other names suggest, this comparison is intentional! Ladons are ambush hunters, as was shown with the whole bird thing I tried to do. While some other hydras may hide themselves in shadow or burrows, the ladon chooses to hunt in plain sight! What it does is find a tree that shows promise, one that would attract a variety of prey. While each ladon's preferences may vary, the typical choice is a fruiting tree, be it actual fruit or mast. Such a food source ensures that someone is bound to show up, lured by this tempting bait. With its tree selected, the ladon will coil its long thin body around the trunk, aligning itself just right so that it flows with the natural shape of the tree. Next, its beaked tentacles will snake out and entwine themselves around branches with fruit on them. These tendrils target the most bountiful limbs, and are sure to wrap themselves tight so that they practically melt into the bark. Once settled in, the ladon will change it colors and skin texture to better match the tree it is camping out on. When this is done and all has grown still, the hydra practically vanishes before your eyes! I swear I could watch one set itself up on a tree and still have a hard time picking it out when the disguise is fully deployed! It is incredible at how they blend in so well! But it makes sense, because this is how they get food! When a critter lands on the branch or climbs up for some fruit, the tendrils go on high alert. They are incredibly sensitive to movement, not just from the prey but from the branch they are coiled on as well! The ladon uses the bouncing of the branch to pinpoint where its prey is, and also how to move its tentacle so that its presence isn't detected. Thinner branches should have a lot of bend and give to them, but ones supported by a tentacle will be much hardier than usual, which could tip the victim off that something is wrong. However, the ladon masks this by having the tendril follow the natural movements of the branch, letting itself droop or flex with the weight of the new arrival. It is waiting for its prey to get caught up in its meal, and then it strikes. The beaked tips of these tentacles lash out with blinding speed, spearing prey on its claws and then crushing them with a powerful grip. It targets smaller prey like birds, squirrels and monkeys, any critter that would be found clambering about the branches. Since prey is not all that big or strong, the swift "bite" of the tentacle and strong grip is enough to dispatch them. Once this is done, the prey is "swallowed," sent down the hollow core of the tendril where muscle contractions and internal suckers slowly move it down to the true mouth. This method of eating means it doesn't need to uncoil from the tree to feed, which also means it doesn't have to blow its cover every time it snags food. It will simply sit there for weeks on end, eating anything that comes to its precious tree. Old tales claim that a ladon will latch onto a tree and never let go, remaining with it until one of them dies. Some even say death isn't enough to part it from its hunting spot, as they swear its locked muscles will keep the corpse clamped onto the trunk until decay or outside intervention finally pries them off!

While their method of hunting is certainly ingenious, it does cause some obvious problems when it comes to dealing with locals. It turns out, many other species like fruit trees, species that are way bigger then a little songbird and more armed too. Folks who go out to gather fruits and nuts in the woods may be in for a shock when the tree they decide to pick from fights back. When it feels threatened, it will use its tentacles to snap at foes, biting at them like a hidden viper. The gnarled protrusions can even harden too, making their limbs spiky and painful if they whack you with one. With this, ladons are often seen as minor threats or pests, with people quick to scare them off or dispatch them if they latch onto a popular tree. However, some folk actually like this behavior! I have heard that certain orchards actually keep ladons around, because they help eat other pests that may gobble up their precious crop! And when it comes time for picking, these creatures actually let the owners collect their fruit unharmed, as they have developed a kind of agreement. The orchard owner will let them have their tree and eat all the birds and squirrels they want, even throwing some extra morsels their way from time to time. In return, the ladon doesn't perceive the farmer as a threat, and thus lets them work on the tree without attack. Don't think, however, that that means any person can just pick from this orchard for free, as the hydra is only accustomed to the usual orchard workers. Any intruders will be met with biting tentacles, and that is just the way the farmer likes it! Extra security for their crop! It is pretty clever, though I feel it can be a bit mean. Yes, you don't want people picking your orchard clean, but couldn't you spare a few apples for a hungry soul? That might just be the dryad in me talking, but I feel such trees provide enough that this bounty can be shared! But then again orchards are usually businesses, and I recall businesses aren't exactly the sharing type... Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------------------

“Ladon”

Oh hey hydra! Would you look at that?

#ladon #hydra #monster #creature #cephalopod #octopus #squid #art #drawing

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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 2 years

Note

Ohhh for your 7 night of sin maybe #12 with Marc Spector 👀👀💓💓 pretty please

Fated

Day 2 of The Seven Nights Of Sin

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader

Prompt: "You hate me? Try saying it again without moaning and I might believe you.

Word Count: 7K. Self control? Never heard of it.

Warnings: 18+. Violence. Slight gore. Choking (not the hot kind). Kind of rivals to lovers. Oral - fem receiving. Unprotected PIV.

A/N: First time writing for one of the moon knight boys and want to say a huge thanks to @acourtofsnakes for reading this over so many times for me and letting me throw my ideas at her. You're amazing and ily 🥰

It was inevitable you supposed.

They were constantly drawn together. Like Shai - the god of fate himself - found enjoyment at plucking an invisible strand of their souls and twining them together - tangling them so completely that no matter how hard one of them tried to avoid the other, there was never a chance of escaping.

You met him before he became the vessel of a god. Before he donned the suit and became Khonshu’s fist of vengeance. And that was where this strange link had formed - took root in your chest and grew wild and more confusing with every encounter.

You had known the Marc that had been hired to kill, to cut down anyone that interrupted or threatened his employer’s plans to obtain a priceless artefact that - like so many others - you had spent your life ensuring belonged in its rightful place.

You’d been so close to escaping, to slipping into the inky, pitch-dark swell of night and disappearing without a trace and then you had felt hands on your arm - your waist. You had felt the weight of him come crashing into you and together you had gone down, hitting the ground with enough force that you were still gasping for air when he flipped you over and caged you between his thighs - large hands pinning your wrist either side of your head.

And you thought he would kill you.

That when you stole the first artefact right out from under his and his colleagues noses - those dark eyes flashing to yours a second before you took off running - before you hear a rough, commanding shout followed by the inevitable thud of footsteps that you just know are solely his giving chase - you thought that if he caught you he wouldn't hesitate to strike you down. But on both counts, he does.

He was gorgeous. And then you were sorely tempted to snort at your own shitty luck because the most beautiful man you had ever seen was one who was probably about to blow your brains out across the dirt.

He had been a lot to take in up close. It hadn’t really registered before when you had chanced a glance at his group whilst your fingers curled around their prize and found him already looking at you. But now - now you couldn’t really focus on anything else.

He took up the entirety of your vision. From his broad shoulders to the dark gaze that bore into your own - the angry clench of his jaw and the thick curls that spilled down and almost tickled your skin when he leant in close to yank down the material that hid the lower half of your face.

For a moment he looked thrown and then his brow furrowed. “Who are you?” He demanded, a low grunt rushing past his lips when you struggled against his hold and bucked your hips.

He followed your line of sight and hesitated. Eyes closing briefly whilst he sighed in frustration. “Look, just give back what you took and I’ll let you go. I don’t really want to kill you but -”

He felt impossible to shift in that moment - solid - especially when he dropped his weight to pin you further against the floor - effectively cutting off your movements as his fingers dug into your wrists in warning before repeating himself.

You tried to survey your surroundings, eyes flicking to his gun that had fallen from him when he crashed to the ground with you. It lay just within reach but you knew even if you dislodged him that chances you would be able to get to it first were drastically slim. And if he managed to grab it there was no way you could reach your own weapon fast enough to stop him before he shot you.

You hadn’t wanted to hear it. Had scoffed in his face. How many had he made similar promises to? How many people had he suckered in with that regretful look, staring directly in their eyes before he cut them down for trying to mess up his work. Endangering his paycheck.

You snarled. “Fuck you.” And then without truly thinking it through, you had slammed your head forward. A blunt burst of pain spreading through your skull as he fell back, cursing furiously whilst he clutched his bleeding nose and blinked rapidly. It had startled him and that gave you something you had desperately needed.

Time.

You shoved your hand in your jacket and yanked out one of your blades - stumbling to your feet just as he had lunged for you and slashing it across his chest before he could dodge out of its path. He staggered - hissing in pain - as red bloomed across his shirt, seeping into the edges of the torn fabric and coating the skin of his palm when he pressed it against the shallow wound in surprise.

The click of the gun in your hand as you cocked it drew his stunned gaze back to yours and after it dragged slowly over you - something you couldn’t quite decipher lurking beneath the shock - he audibly swallowed.

Your grasp on both weapons felt slippery at best but you held on as tight as you could, your eyes never leaving his whilst you planted your feet and took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm your heart that thundered beneath your ribs. “I am leaving and you are not going to follow me. Do you understand?” You commanded. And then as he arched an unimpressed brow, looking very much like he planned on arguing, your voice dropped low. Venomous and mocking.

“I don’t really want to kill you - but I will.”

Miraculously, he had indeed listened to your warning and not followed you that night. After miles of looking over your shoulder, you had eventually figured he must have weighed his options and come to the decision that the money he would have earned was not worth the risk of being shot point-blank in the face by the same woman who had also nearly carved through his chest.

You thought that would be the last you saw of him - that his infuriatingly perfect face and pretty eyes would fade to smoke in your memory the moment you slipped beneath your covers and fell into an exhausted sleep. But no.

Flashes of him haunted you. His breath fanning across your lips and the ghost of his weight crushing your body beneath his drove you mad for months to the point that when he stood in front of you once again - flesh and blood and those plush lips tugging into a smirk - you had very nearly lost your shit instead of being concerned that he might actually kill you this time.

Oh you can’t be fucking serious.

Good to see you again too, sweetheart.

His voice hit you like a brick - punched somewhere far lower in your belly than it had any business doing so before you surged forward. Your blades were in your hands and you slashed them in a deadly arc but he had been ready for you that time, had known not to underestimate you like he had before. He managed to grab one of your wrists - brutally twisting until you dropped one of your weapons with a sharp cry and he caught it with his other hand.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. A wild flurry of harsh grunts and the occasional groan. But for all your exertion and the sweat that glistened distractingly upon his skin, the injuries you both bear were never anything more than surface deep - superficial. Almost like you were deliberately trying not to kill the other.

You didn't have the time to consider the implications of that concerning little revelation. No sooner had it twisted your gut then the heavy sound of footsteps approaching reached both your ears, followed by the rough bark of a name. His name, you suspected, if the way he tensed was any indication.

You were screwed. If more of his associates came there was no way you could fight them all off - not if they were all as skilled as him.

He seemed to realise it too, a mild panic flashing lightning-quick across his features before his expression settled to one of grim determination. He stalked forward and before you could react, shoved you into a hidden nook - his body sliding in straight after to blanket yours whilst he brought a large hand up to cover your mouth.

“Don’t make a sound.” He quietly warned and you had been unable to hold back the scoff that came out muffled beneath his palm. No shit, genius.

There had been silence. A beat, two. It bled tension and the weight of it sat like a boulder on your chest, crushing your ribs, each breath you took never truly filling your lungs as you both waited. Dark eyes raked over you - assessing - gauging your obedience before his lips twitched with a satisfied smirk and he slowly allowed the hand clamped over your mouth fall.

Only then had you noticed how close he truly was. It distracted you completely. The damp warmth of his breath on your lips,slipping inside your mouth, his nose almost nudging yours. He had you utterly pinned, caged between him and the stone at your back with the help of a thick, muscular thigh shoved between your legs and his other hand planted next to your head.

Remnants of dreams you had desperately tried to forget flickered to life in your head.

His mouth at your neck. Teeth grazing sweat-slick skin. Large hands flipping you on to your knees, dragging over your spine before pushing you down and gripping your hips. The feel of him, thick and searing hot, sliding through your soaked folds until he loses patience and notches against your entrance. Blinding pleasure as he drives to the hilt with a single, powerful stroke.

He must have noticed how tense you suddenly became - mistaking your rigid posture and the gnawing of your lip to be the product of your fear of the men coming your way instead of an internal battle between your head and your damn libido. Because much to your shock, his hand had suddenly drifted up your arm to rest on the tight hunch of your shoulder. His fingers squeezed and you watched him curiously as his features softened into what you suspected was his version of a reassuring look.

You flushed brilliantly. Cheeks flaming as you sunk your teeth in your bottom lip to stop the moan that threatened to claw its way out. What was wrong with you?

The guy - Marc - had tried to kill you once and though it seemed he was now having some kind of crisis of conscious, that did not mean he was someone you should be imagining railing the fucking life out of you. Especially when he had you trapped, reliant on his sudden change of heart to not out your presence to the voices that were drawing worryingly close.

And then the voices were right there.They were in the same room. Mere strides away from where you and Marc were pressed together. They called out to him again and it echoed around the chamber, ringing in your ears. You gulped and screwed your eyes shut as you tried to focus on steadying your breathing, keeping it light and quiet whilst tendrils of anxiety snaked between your ribs and curled around your throat.

They were loud as they moved around, checking the contents of the chamber. You could hear them muttering, the shuffling of their boots along the ground before they kicked what sounded like the broken remains of a vase in a fit of displeasure at the lack of anything they considered valuable. It smashed further against the wall just outside of where you were hidden and you flinched.

Your heartbeat spiked - frantic as a hummingbird’s - and then absently you felt the hand that Marc had on you shift. It slid to the juncture where your neck met your shoulder and moulded to the area, his thumb stroking slow, soothing circles on the bare patch of skin that rested above your thundering pulse. It was a miracle you hadn’t gasped. Your eyes snapped open and your mouth parted but you had been speechless, struck dumb by the heat of his skin bleeding into yours - how good it had felt.

Despite the danger literally inches away, something was swelling between them. It was like there was a line connecting them that had pulled taught, aching, the only way they could make the feeling lessen was to move closer. And then he did.

He only leaned in an inch but the motion was enough for the thigh wedged between your legs to flex, to press hard against your clothed sex and make your breath hitch and your lashes flutter. Fire catching in your veins. And you know he saw it. Know without a doubt he felt every part of the response your traitorous body made to his by the way his own suddenly stilled.

He had looked stunned - his eyes widening minutely. It made him look far too innocent. Punching through the callous version of him you’d built up in your head and making you question what parts of him were real and what was an act before the thoughts suddenly went up in smoke. Heat had sparked through his features - his hand tightening briefly around your neck before it swept up to grasp your jaw.

When his thigh moved against you again those raven-dark eyes were watching your face intently. Blazing beneath the thick fringe of his lashes. Any concern that had lingered on the edges of his expression swept away as it morphed into something hungry the moment your hands caught in his shirt - fingers gripping tight and inadvertently locking him to you.

He dipped his chin at the same time you tilted yours up and then his thumb was dragging over the swell of your lower lip, his gaze dropping to watch before it flicked back up to meet yours. Then as any remaining rationality fled from your mind, as you were prepared to give up trying to bury the inappropriate things this man made you feel for the chance to find out if he tasted as good as he did in your dreams – the moment shattered.

“Let’s go, there’s nothing here. Spector will find his way back if he doesn’t want us leaving without him.”

You jerked the second the voice rang out - embarrassment hot in your veins as you shoved him off you in your startled state. He stumbled back and his gaze snapped from yours to the ground where his feet had scraped over the stone and to the chamber in alarm when you both realised your mistake.

But there was nothing.

No furious shouts or the sound of pounding footsteps coming to drag you both out of the hidden nook. There was only the echo of their muttering, the dawning silence that grew the further away they got and when you finally dared expel the shaky breath you were holding and glanced at his face, his expression had shuttered completely

You frowned and opened your mouth but he beat you to it. “You need to leave.” He muttered. “It sounds like they're nearly done, it’ll be safe for you to sneak out whilst they’re too preoccupied loading everything up.”

You stubbornly shook your head. “I’m not going anywhere.” You argued. “I have to see how much they’ve destroyed, if there’s anything left to salvage. It’s my job to pro-”

He stared, incredulous, his jaw clenching before he spat through gritted teeth. “Are you fucking serious? You’re not going in there. I don’t care what your job is, it’s not worth dying over. Leave, now, or so help me-”

“You’ll what?” You shot back, sneering. “You’ll throw me over your shoulder and carry me out? Knock me out so I can’t resist and you can drag me out quietly?”

His eyes narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring whilst you advanced on him. The muscle in his cheek jumped as a frustrated noise rumbled in the back of his throat. “Don’t tempt me.”

You were pushing him but you couldn’t seem to stop.

Why hadn’t you just left? You could have lied and told him you were doing as you were told and then rounded back. Instead you chose to stay and argue, strangely reluctant to walk away from him, and rather than prodding at that bizarre feeling to examine it, you doubled down on your annoyance. “What I do with my life is none of your fucking business” You hissed. “Why do you even care?”

For a moment his expression was thunderous. His hands flinched in your direction before stopping abruptly, tightening to fists as he drew them back down by his sides. You got the distinct impression he was restraining himself from snatching at you and physically shaking what he considered sense into your head. But then just as suddenly, his features shifted - his face wiped of emotion - a blank slate.

When he spoke again his voice was cold as he drew back and turned away from you. “I don’t. But if they see you and recognise who you are, find out that I hid you, they’ll kill me. You’re not worth dying over.”

It shouldn’t hurt. You barely knew him, it shouldn’t have hurt.

But it did.

You jerked as the insult stabbed through your chest - buried itself between your ribs. Inhaled sharply enough that his shoulders went uncomfortably tight before he sighed and made to look back over his shoulder.

You didn’t want whatever condescending pacification he had prepared. Or faux pity. You were an idiot for thinking the moment that had passed between you made you anything more than an inconvenience.

You left before he could see he’d had any effect on you at all.

Months go by where you don’t see him.

It should be a relief. A chance for you to work without distraction, to crawl unseen through temples and spirit away the relics to their proper guardians without suddenly hearing the rasp of his voice from somewhere behind you. Or turning a corner to find him already stood waiting with that infuriating smirk as he drawls, miss me sweetheart?

It should be enough for you to get over your hurt feelings, to firmly unroot him from your mind and move on with your life.

Except you can’t.

With every absence you are thrown back to that last meeting, forced to re-inhabit your past-self and relive the words, If they find out that I hid you, they’ll kill me, over and over until there is an undeniable burst of fear icing through your veins.

What if he’s dead?

What if he’s lying in some temple - the one you left him in - blood soaked and unmoving. His skin long gone cold, the colour of his eyes now milk-white pale. And it’s all because of you.

There’s the bite of acid that you're forced to swallow down. Nausea churning in your gut that momentarily knocks you dizzy before you can regain your bearings. You can’t really afford to be doing this now. Not when there's a body at your feet and crimson arced across your cheek - dripping from the blades in your hands.

There's something very wrong about this mission. You've come across those that loot for money and those that loot under the pretense of religion but never before have you seen whatever the fuck this is.

These cultists that apparently aren't just fucking batshit but also have managed to tap into an ancient type of magic that until five minutes ago, you had been really dubious about existing. But it’s there right in front of you. In the long forgotten symbols carved into their skin - the way they don’t even flinch as your blades slice deep enough to hit bone. They just keep coming at you - eyes just as lifeless then as they are when you sever through one of their necks and morbidly watch the head roll from the body.

Shit, that’s creepy.

It almost makes you gag before another heavy body slams into your back, sending you crashing to the ground where your blades fly from your grip. There’s wetness dripping down your face from where your head bounces off the rough floor - a sharp noise splintering in the back of your throat when you twist around to kick at your attacker and pain screams through your ribs.

Nothing works. It’s like you’re not even trying. The expression on your attacker’s face is completely and utterly void - empty - like they were simply watching a candle slowly go out rather than your life being steadily snuffed from existence.

But it’s useless. Your injuries make the force behind your kick weak and the impact is nothing to someone with supernatural strength. A hand clamps down on your shoulder - flinging you onto your back - and then both are around your neck. Squeezing. Choking.

You try to remember how you're supposed to defend yourself from an attack like this but it’s like your brain has already shut off. Panicked and evacuated the building. Leaving your fingers scrambling across his hands - his arms - his neck. Any part of visible skin that you can hook your nails into and rip. At the same time you try to hike your knee up - try to ram it into some soft, vulnerable part or gather the momentum needed to roll the both of you.

There’s fire in your lungs - agony bursting through your skull and black spots flaring across your vision that grows darker by the second. You think of Marc. Wonder if he met a similar fate before you decide there’s no way in hell he would be stupid enough to die like this. You can practically imagine the way he would be shouting at you right now for not listening - the exasperation rife in his tone and the way he would stand with his hands on his hips that just bled infuriated vindication.

See, I fucking told you. I told you this would happen if you didn’t walk away.

Oddly enough, that doesn’t piss you off the way it would have days ago. It makes you smile. You wonder what he would think of him being your last comforting thought as everything begins to go dark.

Everything felt heavy until it suddenly wasn’t.

There was a lead weight on your chest - your throat - keeping your eyes dragged shut and then just like that it was…gone. It took your mind a split second to catch up, the thought of holy fuck I can breathe only exploding through your head once you’d already took that first desperate inhale.

You feel the spray of something wet - something warm splashing over your chest and neck that smells an awful lot like pennies and your eyes fly open to the sight of your attacker being easily tossed to the side. Face slack and their throat spurting blood - body hitting the ground like a puppet with its strings cut whilst the glowing eyes of another bore into you.

Maybe you died after all?

Maybe this is some kind of hallucination your brain is gifting you as a distraction whilst you slip away.

The strange figure strides towards you. A gloved hand reaching to snatch you up whilst you're frantically attempting to scramble back before his head snaps to the side. He flings an arm out - cloak rippling with the movement - and you undoubtedly hear three rather distinct thuds before there is the bright gleam of gold back securely in his grip.

He turns back to your stunned face and before you can even think of trying to scurry away from him again, he's on you. Large hands wrapping around your arms to drag you up and into the hard planes of his chest.

His fingers dig into your flesh and then he shakes you a little. Harsh enough that your fear momentarily takes a backseat as you push against his hold and slap at him when he refuses to let go.

You snarl. "What is your fucking problem, let go of me." Does he think you're in shock or something?

And then you hear an all too familiar voice, muffled behind the cloth of his mask but no less undeniably furious.

"Are you just stubborn or incredibly stupid. I thought I told you this job wasn't worth dying for?"

It can't be.

You still immediately whilst the mask peels back to reveal a mess of dark curls, the gaze that burns straight through to your soul as his jaw clenches. His expression expectant.

But it was too much. He was too much. The relief you had slamming through your chest that he was alive, the revelation that he was something more than you had believed him to be - something more than human apparently - after having nearly died yourself.

"I - you…Marc?" You stammer before the pain in your temple pulses all too bright. Your eyes rolling back in your head as his arms wind around you to cradle you through the dark.

You come to in a plain looking hotel room. Propped up on just about every pillow Marc must have been able to find - the crisp white bed sheet tucked snugly under your arms. There's a soft breeze coming from the open balcony and as it stirs the light material of the curtains, you see him. Shoulders drawn tight and hands wrapped around the railing whilst his head hangs low.

You throw back the sheet, sliding your legs out of the bed and the sudden movement makes you wince as your head throbs. Immediately your hand flies to the root cause of the pain - surprised when instead of raw, tender flesh your fingers meet smooth bandages. Not only had Marc saved you and brought you to safety, he'd tended to your wounds too.

"I wouldn't prod at that if I was you, it's a pretty nasty cut."

The words are blunt. Barely above a murmur and when you glance up you find him hovering at the door. Watching you warily - scrutinising the barest twitch of your muscles for a sign you might pull a weapon out and fly at him.

You take the opportunity to study him right back, he's in normal clothes now. A soft, worn t-shirt and jeans that makes him look a lot less intimidating despite his tense stance. But then you remember the temple. The people he killed with a mere flick of a wrist, never even taking his eyes off you as he'd done so.

"Where are we?" You croak.

"Hotel on the outskirts of the city." He replies, crossing his arms over his chest whilst he leans against the balcony door. "Don't worry, you're safe."

The laugh scrapes through your throat before you can force it back down. "Safe?" You retort. "I just saw you kill four people without breaking a sweat and then when I passed out you brought me to fuck knows where and now just expect me to not worry."

"I could have left you there instead." He fires back. Eyes snapping dark - immediately frustrated. "And if I hadn't killed them then they would have killed you so maybe you should be a little greatful."

You snort. “Oh excuse me for being surprised you would even bother considering the last time we met - what was it you said again- oh I’ve got it -” You snap your fingers. “You’re not worth dying over. You’re right, I should be so greatful.”

For a moment there’s blind surprise on his face - eyebrows shooting up beneath the droop of his curls - the faintest bloom of regret before he scoffs. Glaring down at you as he advances until he towers over where you’re seated upon the edge of the bed.

“Are you serious? I’ve saved your life twice now, three times if you count me not pursuing the first time, and you think I meant that?” He demands, infuriated. “I said what I had to to get you to stop putting yourself in these dangerous situations and even then I still fucking find you in the same position months later. So clearly the words didn’t strike that deep honey.”

The fucking nerve of him.

You force yourself to your feet so fast that the room tilts for a sickening minute and then it’s the two of you crowding each other. Eyes blazing and breaths coming in jagged inhales. Both refusing to retreat this time whilst the air sings with tension.

“You’ve saved my life once, asshole. The first two times I was only ever in danger because you came after me.” You spit, jabbing a finger into his chest for emphasis.

He jerks with it before his hand snatches at your wrist, yanking you closer, his lips curling as he snarls. “You were lucky it was me. What would you have done if it hadn’t been - do you have any idea what they would have done to you for trying to steal from them?”

“Me stealing? Those artefacts don’t belong to them or you for that matter!”

There's that look in his eyes like he wants to shake you again and you think he will when he grabs your other hand that attempts to shove him away and locks them both against him. But he doesn’t. He simply holds you there and vibrates with his frustration - his disbelief and fury that you are so hellbent on continuously risking your life for reasons he can’t wrap his head around.

It’s the closest the two of you have been since you had hid together in that nook and you’re grateful of the sudden breeze that billows the curtains and gives a justifiable reason for the shiver that overtakes you at being pressed to him like this once more despite your anger.

He continues, oblivious. “So what? You think you can go around stopping them from being taken with nothing but a few knives and no real training for fighting. How are you this fucking naive?” His tone is harsh and any other time it would instantly get your back up - teeth bared. But you sense something under it, threaded through. The barest hint of panic. “What is it going to take to make you listen - do I have to constantly keep an eye on you? Maybe I should just tie you up and put you somewhere safe so you can’t indulge in this little death wish you’ve got going on.”

Your enraged expression slips for just a second. A beat where your eyes round - pupils dilating - your lips parting slightly before you quickly fix it. And damn him to hell because of course that sharp gaze of his misses nothing.

His lips quirk into a smug smirk - voice dropping low. “So you’d like that would you?”

You gulp before forcing the words through the tightness of your throat. The warning far more breathy than you'd like. "Fuck off Spector.”

You try to turn your head from him and he snatches at your jaw, leaning down as he drags your face back to his until you’re nose to nose. “Stubborn little thing just needs a firmer hand is that it?" He husks. "You want me to tie you to my bed, keep you here until you learn to be good- ”

“Shut up. I swear to god-”

“Is that why you fight me every fucking time? You need me to-”

He doesn’t get to finish before your fingers are snagging in his shirt and you rip him towards your mouth. There is little softness in the kiss.It’s fierce and messy - a fight because the two of you don’t know how to be any different. He crushes you to him as your hands knot through his hair and the moment he groans - rough and feral - against your tongue, you know you’ve both lost.

He grunts for you to lift your hips and then he’s rucking down both your pants and your underwear with an impatience that would make you snort if it wasn’t for the open-mouthed kisses he leaves on every inch of newly exposed skin. The delicious scrape of his teeth that follows the rare flash of softness. When he wrenches your knees open his eyes go ink-black, touched wild with hunger as they trail from where you're swollen and wet for him, up to your own needy gaze.

They move together and the room shifts. A blur of movement. Everything tilts as you fall back on to the bed and Marc’s weight sinks into you - his hips shoved up against the cradle of your own, grinding the hard length of him against the flushed heat of your sex.

You go blind with the tension already building in your gut - lighting your blood - and he seems to be faring no better, only reeling back an inch for you to yank his shirt off before he’s slamming his mouth back to yours. Frantic hands snapping open the button of your pants.

He sinks down to settle between your thighs and you jerk when the hot fan of his breath hits your cunt. “Relax.” He rasps. It’s a command, a large hand splaying over the swell of your belly to hold you firm as he drops his head and licks a broad stripe through your folds. He laps at your slick before those rose-pout lips close over your aching clit and he sucks hard. You moan his name, trembling like a live-wire beneath him as his eyes flick up to yours and you feel his lips twist into a proud smirk.

He slips a finger into the fluttering channel of your cunt, strokes you whilst you buck into his chin before he draws it back out and adds a second. Sliding them knuckle deep. You bite out a curse at the feeling, the pleasure sparking low in your gut as he rubs at the patch of tissue that makes your thighs clamp tight around his broad shoulders whilst he eats you filthy and desperate.

You’re winding unbearably tight - a coiled spring set to violently snap. You can’t even warn him, every crook of his fingers and sweep of his tongue leaves you breathless, scrambling for words other than fuck, fuck, fuck - please - right there. Your hand buries in his hair, wraps tight around raven curls to press him harder against you and he groans shamelessly. Lightly nipping your clit with his teeth as you cry out and flood the waiting cup of his mouth.

The hand on your belly turns to steel, fixing you against him whilst your cunt spasms around his fingers and you become a mess of writhing limbs - his name a broken chant on your lips until the brute force of your climax mellows into something gentle.

You’re boneless when he lifts his head - liquid and sweet as he crawls up your body, his face painted slick with you when your eyes flutter open to take him in. He smiles as you draw him to your mouth and kiss him sloppily. The taste of you still bright on his tongue, making heat flicker through your veins whilst he thoroughly explores your mouth.

“You look so perfect when you cum.” He murmurs against your lips. “Prettier than I ever imagined.”

You shudder at that, a whine catching in your throat as the rough fabric of his jeans brushes up against the sensitive flesh of your sex.

“Fuck me, please.” You whimper and the noise that rumbles through his chest is ragged whilst you yank open his jeans and shove them down his thighs.

He is burning hot when you grasp him - heavy and throbbing in the palm of your hand. You twist your wrist, pump him nice and slow, once, twice, as he dips his chin with a groan to watch you guide him closer. He rolls his hips, coating his cock in the mess of your slick and you arch when he repeatedly nudges against your clit. Your nails sinking into the meat of his shoulders when he quirks a teasing brow at the desperate noise that flies past your lips.

“Is this what you needed sweetheart?” He croons. “All those times fighting me and all I needed to do to make you go sweet for me was give you my cock?”

God you could kick him. Smack that self-satisfied grin right off his face if you were actually capable of doing anything more than moaning at how fucking good it feels. Instead you settle for burying your nails deeper, raking them down his back until he hisses.

“I hate you.” You breathe.

“You hate me?” He chuckles - a dark rasp. His hand coming to cradle the side of your head as he lowers his mouth just milimetres from yours. “Try saying it again without moaning and I might believe you.”

You’re prepared to spit it at him. The challenge rushing through your blood, gathering the words on your tongue faster than you can blink. His eyes gleam as you open your mouth and just as you find your voice he obliterates it entirely - snapping his hips and sinking to the hilt inside you with one smooth thrust.

You arch like a bow. A breathless cry sticking in your throat as his face drops to the crook of your neck - his mouth hot on your skin. “Shit, Marc.” You wheeze.

He draws nearly all the way out before pushing back in achingly slow. A taunt. The crawling pace just enough to stoke the molten burn that has flared wildly in your core. You’re near to ruin - a trembling mess teetering on the edge of overwhelmed as your dripping cunt clamps down around him with an unyielding grip.

“You were saying.”

“Oh fuck you.”

There is the flash of a grin and then his tongue is sweeping up the column of your throat - tracing over a pulsing vein - his teeth nipping the edge of your jaw before he growls. “If you insist.”

“You feel so fucking good.” He grunts against your mouth. “Perfect little thing, you’re so wet. Look at how well you’re taking me.”

He smooths a hand down your side until he reaches your knee, grasping it so he can shove it up against your chest. The next punch of his hips is bruising - each spear of his thick cock through your walls knocking the breath from your lungs as you cling to him. Pleasure-drunk and gasping.

His lips drag up your chin to seal over your own, the hand that had hovered by your head coming to rest gently against your cheek - still mindful of your wound even whilst he’s ruthlessly pounding you into the mattress. It makes you go liquid for him - your cunt fluttering and your heart going wild beneath your ribs.

You don’t even need to look - you can hear it. The lewd suck of your cunt swallowing his cock over and over. The sharp slap of sweat-slick skin that echoes through the room amidst your choked moans and his husky praise. But you look down anyway and the sight that greets you makes your brain short-circuit. The two of you are painted in your own arousal - thighs - bellies - the rod of his cock - all shiny with your slick.

Fucking hell.

It’s utterly filthy and you go slightly feral with it. Your nails biting into his shoulders - the nape of his neck. Fingers catching in his hair and tugging as you rise up to scrape your teeth over the tense muscles of his throat. You roll your hips, matching his thrusts whilst the pleasure blooms and blooms and he spits out a furious curse.

You cry out his name and a groan rips through him. He sinks down to bury you in him, kissing you until you go lightheaded and dizzy and the greedy snap of his hips slows to something sloppy and stuttered. There is the feeling of him swelling within the tight grasp of your cunt and then his cock pulses - filling you with warm lashes of his seed as his tongue slides lazily over your own.

He draws back to change the angle - something soft breaking across his gaze when you make a noise of protest at the distance - one of your hands slipping from his shoulder before he catches it and presses a searing kiss to your palm.

He grinds deep and your lips part soundlessly as the movement makes him brush against the swollen flesh of your clit. Every repeat of it makes your stomach go tight. An undeniable force gathering - swelling - until you break beneath him, convulsing violently as you soak him.

You hold him whilst he shudders, smoothing your palms up and down his back. Nails scraping lightly through his sweat-damp curls. When he lifts his head his smile is tender - gentle like the fingers that skim the swell of your cheek - before it turns proud. His eyes burning with something sweet yet possessive as he pulls out and hovers above you.

“You do realise if this was supposed to dissuade me from going against fighting you and going on missions it has completely backfired, right?” You tease before he can say anything.

“Is that so?” He mutters. Lifting a cool brow to stare down at you, amused. “In that case then next time I’ll just fuck you until you phsyically can’t walk out of here.”

You inhale sharply, a flicker of lust growing in your veins that you have to take a minute to force down whilst he grins.

“Or,” You croak. “You could just fill me in on these new superpowers of yours and then maybe join me.”

He cocks his head like he’s considering it and then lowers his mouth to yours, kissing you slowly before he drags his lips across your cheek. Stopping at your ear whilst his fingers slid between your thighs. “I could.” He whispers. “But not yet. I’m not done with you sweetheart.”

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