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glitchtricks94 · 2 months

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No Title

Giyuu Tomioka x Reader

I had a song in my head. Then this happened. The song is not exactly happy either, so forgive the random soft angst. And lack of beta reading. Also I can't think of a title so hence the fic name. Enjoy the short drabble! -Glitchtricks

"Don't go yet." The words Giyuu uttered to himself as he watched you leave him in the airport repeated in his mind like a broken record. He never had the will to try and push past that moment, to push past losing his chance. Giyuu could never push past losing you. The years rolling past since you flew away had all bled together. He went through the motions, moving forward without the original passion he had in his life, finding himself the gym teacher at his old high school. He supposed that he could be on a worse path in life, yet everything would still feel more vibrant next you. You still kept in touch, yet everything felt far too distant, your time in America having shaped you into a whole new person. You and Giyuu could barely find anything to speak about anymore in your conversation outside of the usual pleasantries. Heart wrenching to him, really. Each night he swore you stabbing him in the chest would hurt less than this song and dance you both seemed so insistent on performing. "Good morning." "It's 4 PM, Giyuu." Giyuu stared at his phone in his hand. Each time that happened he could only pick out that you still remembered to use his first name. "I suppose that's something." He'd mumble to himself as he got up and prepared for the day.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you again, not after being apart for so long. You still looked as radiant as the day you left. Giyuu froze as he was walking past the art room, catching you speaking with Tengen cheerfully. His eyes were glued to your figure, your bright smile that always lit up his entire world, adding color to every dull hue that surrounded him. It felt like he was breathing again when he suddenly found you latched onto him in a hug. When did you even see him? "Giyuu, it's been forever!" You cheered, your familiar voice acting as an anchor. Shakily raising his arms, Giyuu returned your excited affection, his mind still wriggling out of the disbelief that had him in a vice. "When...When did you-" "You know Tomokia?" Tengen asked, stealing your attention from Giyuu. "Yeah, we were best friends before I left for America!" You chirped. "He was nothing but supportive of chasing my dreams." Tengen hummed in surprise at your response. "Oddly flashy for a guy like him." "He was always full of surprises when we were younger." Giyuu cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself. "When did you get back?" "Just the other day. I thought I messaged you about it." That explained it. Giyuu had recently tried to force himself to push forward, having changed his number last week to hopefully get the ball rolling in giving up the ghost that had to be his deep seeded infatuation with you. Leave it to him to reconnect so soon after. It always did feel like the universe was laughing at him in some twisted manner. "I changed my number the other day." Giyuu murmured, looking away from you in shame. "We never exchanged much other than small talk. I figured you had decided to stay in America and didn't want to come back home." "Giyuu, I told you I was studying abroad for my art degree." You spoke, making him flinch at the clear displeasure in your tone. "I know, I know." He sighed, looking back at you with desperate eyes. "Could we discuss this somewhere more private?" "Don't stop on my account." Tengen laughed, earning a set of glares from both you and Giyuu. "Fine." You huffed, shaking your head. "I still don't get why you thought I'd never come home, though." Giyuu felt his heart stutter as you continued speaking to him as you walked out of the room. "I could never leave you forever." You still said that? After nearly half a decade? He swore he could faint. Giyuu didn't realize his feet began to move to trail after you, trying to soak of more of your sorely missed presence. "You still mean that?" "What?" "That you won't leave me forever?" You stopped, looking over your shoulder at him. For a moment, it felt like the days following graduation again. Giyuu couldn't tell if he was having a flashback, everything around him blurred except for you and your honey sweet smile. "Of course I mean it." "Don't go yet..." He whispered, earning a confused look from you. "Giyuu?" You called, panic sweeping over you as tears brimmed Giyuu's eyes. "Please...Please don't go yet..." He whimpered, stepping closer as you turned to face him fully. "Please don't leave me..." He sniffled, pulling you into a tight hug, desperation rolling off him in waves. "Oh, Giyuu..." You sighed, hugging him back as you pet his head in the, thankfully, empty hallways. "Of course I won't leave you." "You did once..." "And I came back." "Why? I thought you were happy in America, away from me, pursuing your dreams." Giyuu sobbed, his grip on you tightening once again. "My dreams were always rooted here, with you. I just had to go somewhere else to truly start reaching for them." You explained softly, your mind filling with old feelings you thought you had shed in your third year of high school. "I always wanted to work beside you in some way." "Does...this mean you won't leave again?" "I could never leave you. Not forever."

"Thank you...Th-thank you so much..." Giyuu bawled, finally relaxing as the dam that held all his emotions and feeling for you, the very dam he tried so hard to build over the years in your absence, finally broke, drowning him in the ensuing flood. "I missed you for so long..." "I missed you, too." "Do you want to catch up over tea?" "Why not over dinner? Lasts longer." "Yeah..." Giyuu breathed, stepping out of your embrace and wiping his eyes with his sleeve, a small, tired smile painting his features. "We can get your favorite and eat while watching a movie. Just like we used to." "That sounds perfect." "After school's out then?" "Absolutely." You replied, flashing Giyuu a signature grin. He missed that terribly. He nodded. "See you later."

#glitchwrites.notepad #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu x reader #kimetsu academy #light angst #giyuu x you #demon slayer x reader #tomioka angst #angst with a hopeful ending

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ruiniel · 2 months

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Rating: T

Relationships: Eönwë/Sauron (past)

Characters: Eönwë, Sauron

Additional Tags: Angst and Feels, Flashbacks

Count: 2.2k

Also on AO3

Summary: The spirit of Sauron awakens in a strange place. Written as part of @myslashyvalentine 2024 for @verecunda!

Awareness brims like embers rising in the darkest night sky. He stirs, tries extending the tendrils of his will through the fiery veins of the earth, through its bones of metal that always lent their strength. But he tires, sooner than he expects, and the effort yields nothing: no earth to speak of, nor other minds to delve into and direct. He rises with the memory of movement, finding a too-bright chamber not at all resembling his last abode.

Tall windows shed light over white walls and silvery embellishments, and as he nears, he sees plush clouds drifting close enough to touch. This development is strange, to say the least. He’s not dreamt in Ages, and this one has lasted far longer than he can contend with. An attempt to awaken, however, changes nothing.

Behind him, there is a door. He goes to open it, gazing upon a long, airy hall, dotted with the same impossibly bright windows lavishing intruding light over pale marble floors. At the end of the corridor there are gates of green brass, supposedly the way out of here.

There is no echo of steps as he crosses the silent, empty enclosure. When at last he tries to open the way, the doors remain shut. He tries again, forcing his will upon them with no result.

“That is futile.”

Startled at another voice, not by the suddenness as much as the familiarity of it, he turns.

“The tower will not release you,” the new presence speaks again, landing gracefully from an unknown recess, and great wings slice through the rays of light flooding the hall.

“Release m—” he begins, only to realize he is not speaking but replying to the other’s thought.

A maelstrom of memory churns so fast he wavers, rekindling the last moments of his most recent, disastrous failure. It all bursts through the dam of his temporary stupor and leaves him cowering, bringing his hands to his head—to find he has no head, and no hands to speak of.

“Greetings, Mairon,” the Herald continues in Valarin. He is the epitome of stillness, a monolith before the houseless spirit quivering in distress and confusion. “It has been a long, long time.”

Mairon…

The reminiscence of a word lost in a flood, long ago. Once a name lavished upon him by ones who would hunt him down.

The mote of fire in his chest—or what should be his chest—spirals in frantic apprehension.

Surprise and stupor are not sentiments he is used to, and yet he’d had a taste of both lately: with his most recent defeat and the pain of being torn apart once again, his mind barely knitting back together after the fall. The last he remembers is hunger, gnawing at himself in the shadows. And now, this.

“What… are you doing here?” he asks, dread taking over at the overwhelming power Eönwë Urion exudes before his weakened, exposed spirit.

“I was told you’d awoken,” the Herald says simply. “As you already saw, the doors will not open. Nothing you try ever will. Your place is here, now.”

“Oh?” Ire frosts his thought before the impassable, distant eyes of his peer. “You mean, not the Void?” he asks, in a voice of thought that once might have sounded demanding. Now that he is powerless, a meld of pride and fear slithers across his ghostly expression.

“No, Mairon.” Eönwë says, the brightness of his gaze crossed by a fast shadow. “The Outer Dark is not for you.”

“Would that it were!” Sauron, the other facet, bursts forth in impotent rage, but before the shining mail and strong wings it is a weak flare of heat.

“Look and see,” the Herald then speaks with unabated calm, a clawed hand pointing to the left. “The mirrors show us for what we are, and also moments of the viewer’s past. These you may use.”

It’s then he notices that each wall is indeed lined with mirrors. No, each wall, on either side, is made of mirrors, and as he nears Sauron sees the truth of Eönwë’s words: himself.

A wraith, with a countenance as he recalls his last bodily form. A face burned to the bone, crimson hatred blazing from the eye sockets. Clawed hands grasping at a stone seat, molten red from the rush of his fury. He feels detached from it now, though, like watching a severed limb without feeling the pain. “How long has it been since…” Since I’ve lost my dominion.

“You’ve roamed long through the world, Mairon. Time is meaningless here, as you know.”

“You always did love speaking in riddles,” Mairon says, unnerved at the hint of something he refuses to acknowledge. “What is this place?”

“A tower somewhere near the Gates of Dawn,” Eönwë replies, looking to the windows where a pale, blushing light blooms. “I am its guardian.”

“You mean, my jailor?” Mairon mutters, finding Eönwë staring emptily into one of the mirror-walls. “Your precious Valar have appointed you, of all people, to watch me?” If he had a throat and a mouth, he’d laugh.

“No,” Eönwë says, and his thought has a tint Mairon has not felt in well over two Ages. “I offered.”

“You offered. And always the sentimental fool besides, are you?”

Eönwë looks his way then, and takes one step forward; nonthreatening, though he shines blindingly as he catches the light. “You are here, alone. Your empire is dust, all that you’ve twisted has been undone. All who entered Eä became part of it and that still means you as well as I, and all Ainur apart from your fallen master. No, Mairon, you are bound to the world, but with no power to shape it. You will watch from afar as it is reforged and slowly forgets you.”

Well, certainly more bitter than Mairon remembers. He watches Eönwë then, really watches closely for the first time since their incongruous encounter. The Herald looks the same, unchanged since Mairon had last seen him in that war camp after Angband fell. His long silver hair is woven down his back in intricate patterns, his determined brow adorned with the markings of his order, glowing beryl patterns swirling on his dusky skin. He wears no plate armor, and why should he? If Mairon could burn this all down and flee, he would without a second thought but it so happens he is at anyone’s mercy now. “But you have not forgotten me.”

The Herald’s lip quivers, and he shakes his head. “Indeed not. I stand here out of both duty and pity.”

“I’d rather you didn’t stand here at all, at this moment.” It’s lowly and he knows it, but being bound is not something he’s ever withstood with grace, and he turns his sight from the Herald. Mairon has always been apt in detecting lies, and this one has, apparently, learned to be convincing enough. Eönwë, the righteous warrior of the Elder King, who could never fathom deceit nor understand wickedness. Who knew. Or, perhaps, something else drives his disbelief in that icy answer.

What if it is the truth?

The next moment he is blown to the side by the spread of great wings, bounding for the air; he’s left with the empty serenity of this place, and the image of himself, reflected wherever he turns his mind’s eye.

“I fail to see the amusement in this.”

The frustration is clear in Eönwë’s voice as he side-eyes Mairon, who’s currently trying his utmost to keep a straight face, a beringed hand placed tactfully over his mouth.

“It’s all right, it really—” he snorts once, at which point Eönwë narrows his eyes further. “... it really is.” He reaches for the golden bracelet that’s suffered the wind Maia’s helpless tinkering even as Eönwë steps aside. “Not everyone has the inclination towards metalwork,” Mairon adds, and at Eönwë’s sigh slips the bracelet on his wrist. “But it’s wearable, I’d say.”

“Really.” Eönwë is thoroughly unconvinced, but Mairon can still sense the delight radiating off him when seeing his handiwork against the fire Maia’s skin.

They step outside Aulë’s forges, heading down the peaceful streets at leisure. Almaren is bathed in golden light playing sweetly on Eönwë’s skin, enhancing the glittering teal of his crystalline gaze. “Come now, you cannot tell me a botched bracelet affected you so.” They’re walking close to one another, and soon enough Eönwë feels closer. “You have other skills besides…” He traces fingers along Eönwë’s forearm, hearing clearly the turmoil of his spirit. Eönwë does not hide from him, and very often Mairon finds he cannot, either. They flow into one another on waves of affinity.

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but I’d hardly call that a skill to speak of,” Eönwë murmurs, looking ahead, but half a smile shines on his face.

Mairon bumps a hip into him, and when they reach the fire Maia’s abode, takes a hold of Eönwë’s hand. “Oh but it is.” His amber eyes languorously follow the curve of Eönwë’s mouth, remembering how his body sang beneath it. He leans closer, “And I have need of it.”

Eönwë grins—beautiful, devastating—and follows Mairon when he turns to walk inside with a lazy stride.

He’s going to strike the traitor down. His bloodied armor clinks haphazardly, weighing on his aching limbs. The Herald who led the host of the Valar paces before the gold-and-silver marquee glimmering in the sunset over lands and seas forever changed, over skies bruised with war; over the flaming mane of dirty hair and ruined armor of the Maia kneeling before him.

His eyes are downcast as M— as Sauron stares into nothingness, looking for all the world like he’s lost it all.

Eönwë runs a hand through his disheveled hair, disgust and anger warring as he brings his palms to his mouth, drags them over his face, breathes deeply. “Why have you come?”

No answer. Eönwë has always been the patient one, the one to offer chances. But this, this creature before him, so foreign and painfully empty, is not the one he knew long ago. “On your feet.” He cannot stand seeing the lieutenant of Angband prostrated before him, and he’s never known hatred—but now, looking upon that beautiful, timeless face and the seeding malice engraved upon it, he thinks he might have an inkling.

“I do not…” The pale lips move, then pause.

Eönwë waits, seeking the flaming eyes carefully turned from his. He steps closer, unable to bear the sight much longer. “Why have you come to me?”

“I do not know... I have... nowhere else to go.” Hollow voice, hollow stare.

His palm itches to reach for his sword, if only to damn himself too and to know what it feels like. Bitter is the memory of a day lost in the mires of time, when Mairon most certainly knew where he was going and with whom.

But no, he will not be petty, though the ancient ache comes alive like molten rock cracking the surface of the earth, burning all in its path.

He’s made the right decision, he tells himself that night when rest will not come, repeating the refusal over and over in his mind.

The pardon is not mine to give.

“Not mine… not mine...” he whispers to the night.

When he hears a stir, instead of reaching for his weapon, he lingers. He knows. And again, he will not be petty or a liar when the tent canvas trembles and a sheer form with blazing eyes steps inside. He says nothing, does not shrink back when warmth envelops him with primal urgency, a forgotten scent of embers and copper on his tongue.

No, Eönwë has never known hatred; but his insides are scarred by the same talons now gripping and clawing at his bare shoulders, and wishes he did.

He will go mad, as mortals do. Day after day, if time can even be considered such, here, in this barren place of wind and silence, he wakes and takes the stairs, up, then down, then up again.

Soon, he gains something of a physical form. Mairon does not even know what or whom to curse anymore, so acute is the need to busy his mind with something, anything.

He gazes at the mirrors sometimes, conjuring memories. Days of glory, fallen empires, failure. Again, and again, he swam against the tide. Always he lost, but did he ever fight. He wanted freedom, he wanted to bring order to this wretched world, one they had abandoned but, no—

And it is then he realizes: he is tired. His spirit no longer craves the past, nor yearns for absolute control or greatness.

“In the end, what was it all for?”

He knows the Herald stands behind him, and that is whom he asks. After all, Eönwë is not one to deceive. There was no streak of such in his Song.

“I was hoping that one day… you might be able to tell me.”

He might be smiling, Mairon can hear it in his voice. For the first time in a long while, he thinks, he can also feel the bitterness beneath. It brings a measure of relief, though why that is, he cannot say for certain. Mairon gazes into the mirrors of memory. He looks beyond the years of dominion, before strife and wars, betrayal and pride, and before Time; seeking Almaren.

#ruiniel:fanfiction #sauron x eonwe #silmarillion fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #sauron #eonwe

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weeping-gospels · 1 year

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The snowstorm kicked up as the hours trudged on, nipping at the already low temperatures until it had reached a near freezing point.

Exhausted from a recent brawl, the beast slowly trekked through unforgiving sheets of snow, each drop like a sharp needle to the face. Her body weakened as her muscles strained, the icy experience slowly but surely solidifying her entire vessel and death was soon to arrive should she remain outdoors any longer. Damn her hypothesized forecasts and their hidden meanings. She was a woman of science, not of the odd weather in an already bizarre setting. She had spent cycles studying Skaven psychology and physiology, not the fucking weather.

Damn it all to hell. She’d sooner let her body rot where it stood rather than catch even a glimpse of Negoro’s face yet again as her soul passed over into a temporary emptiness. The amount of times she’s died was humiliating — and now the fucking weather would do her in. She’s gone soft.

Yet…the snowfall cleared if not for a fleeting moment, allowing the drifting beast to witness the beauty of Jerdano’s creation through the veil of foggy white. Morrslieb’s moonlight graced the lands blanketed in frost, the pine trees still standing stubbornly resilient despite such the nasty climate and a blissful silence remained. When was the last time she had welcomed the feeling of tranquility instead of calamity? When was the last time her mind was as quiet as this picture-still moment? Had the Gods finally spared her merciless demises and began to gift her with more pleasant ones for atoning to her sins?

Perhaps dying wasn’t as bad as she presumed. If dying was always like time had stopped just for her to take in the world around her at it’s most vulnerable..then maybe, just maybe, she would like to die just a bit more.

…

Softness. Softness, as if resting on a rug of fur thawing by the fireplace. Was this a new feeling of death as well?

“ Corpse-thing… “

Ah, that’s a familiar voice. It’s distant and muffled, but it is amicable. Her senses are still shot from the snowstorm and her eyes feel glued shut.

“ Carcass-thing? “

There it is again..but her ears feel as though they are underwater.

“ …Betty. Betty, wake up.

WAKE UP. “

SLAP

Gasping sharply, it felt as though her soul had been slammed right back into her body. Nearly jumping out of his own skin, Hemlock squealed and shoved both paws onto her hips to keep her down, noisily bruxing out of stress,

“ STAY DOWN, STAY DOWN-DOWN, YOU FLEA-RIDDEN CADAVER! “

“ Wha — ?! Oh. Oh, it’s you. “

Sneering up at the overweight rat’s face, the now humanoid Dhampir’s body deflated in both relief and irritancy. Sneering right back, the Black Bull let out a rumbling hiss,

“ Like that is any way-form to treat your savior-hero, undead-thing. If it wasn’t for Hemlock’s GRACIOUS, MERCIFUL PAW, corpse-thing would have been icicle for ‘nother Skaven to shatter-destroy. “

“ Mhm. “

“ Undead-thing should thank Hemlock. “

“ Mhm. “

“ That isn’t-not an apology OR thank. “

“ You are not getting jack SHIT from me, Hemlock. “

Snarling, the rat shoved her off of him and stood up on all fours,

“ BAH! SHOULD’VE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO BE NICE-KIND TO STUPID DEAD-THING! WOULD’VE BEEN BETTER TO LET DEAD-THING FREEZE TO DEATH! “

“ Must you always insist on being so loud, you roach-infested blob? I never asked to be saved, thank you very much. “

Dusting herself off, the red head started her journey out of the den — only to come face to face with nothing but misty white. The snowstorm had reached it’s climax during her slumber and now the two were trapped.

As her expression fell, Hemlock cackled, soaking up his past mate’s disappointment.

“ KEHAHAHA! AS IF CORSPE-THING HAS A CHOICE IN THE MATTER! CORPSE-THING IS TRAPPED-STUCK WITH HEMLOCK UNTIL STORM BLOWS OVER! KEHAHAHAHAAA!! “

“ Oh, let it all out, you fucking comedian. I hope you choke on your own annoying laughter and suffocate slowly — “

Her insult was cut short whence karma stabbed her stomach, the woman abruptly doubling over in a horrible coughing fit. Wracked with hoarse gagging and coughing, Betty sunk her nails into the earthy walls for balance, blood spilling from her lips as her sore throat chapped up and burned from the cold. Hemlock’s laughter instantly died out at the scene and he found himself hobbling over to yank the creature back down into her original position against his bulky chest, providing the warmth she desperately needed but refused to ask for. His lasso-like tail proceeded to coil around the two to lock her in place, silently observing the coughing fit continue rather than dissipate.

“ Betty… “

The rat quietly murmured, recalling the memories where she had aided him when he was ill. Awkwardly, he pat her back, his paw flinching away as she started wheezing sharply — he hit too hard. Right, his strength was immense compared to her slender frame.

“ Betty? Are — … is….is undead-thing going to be dead this time? “

It’s been a while since he’s witnessed her die. His memory isn’t good to begin with. He can’t remember how it went.

Ears flatten in frustration and now he uses his paw to carefully massage over her chest, being mindful of how much pressure he was using. Betty’s hand shakily rested over his much larger one, halting his rubbing but not rejecting his touch. Her coughing fit stopped after a few more painstaking minutes, leaving her bloody and shaking tremendously. Too tuckered out to move away, the woman remained in Hemlock’s arms, huddling in for more of the warmth she craved — and the rat provided it, wordlessly cradling the undead and spending the remainder of the night watching her.

The snowstorm continued.

#one shot #character: bethanne drozdov 🦇#character: hemlock 🐀

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mcscal · 22 days

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( @daisyedgarjcnes ) A full week had elapsed since Daisy meticulously packed what felt like the entirety of her life and made the poignant decision to depart from what had once seemed like the apex of her existence. Departing the apartment on that somber, cold afternoon, she managed to maintain her composure until she settled into the backseat of the Uber she had summoned. Tears cascading down her cheeks prompted even the concern of her driver, who inquired about her well-being. — Finding solace and refuge in India's apartment, their mutual best friend graciously offered sanctuary for Daisy to gather her bearings before embarking on the arduous task of seeking new accommodations. Amidst the tumultuous emotions she had grappled with in recent weeks, one sentiment lingered persistently: the swift sale of her previous apartment. Yet, amidst this uncertainty, she found solace in the companionship of India, grateful not to be entirely alone during this transitional period. Even though India occasionally lamented the circumstances that led Daisy and Paul to hurt each other, those moments served as triggers for Daisy to disengage from the conversation. She didn't need to hear about how she and Paul were destined to reunite or find their way back to each other, for in the present moment, he felt like a distant memory, a figure from a past life with whom she could scarcely imagine interacting again.

Grateful for the temporary respite from work obligations, Daisy found solace in the quietude of the flat. Though she acknowledged that a distraction might have been welcome to divert her thoughts, she discovered a semblance of peace in the simple routines of sipping endless cups of tea and delving into her beloved books. Not to shy away from the fact that she was beyond sleep deprived. Not one single night of a full night of sleep had come her way since her and Paul had gone their separate ways. She had become so attached to falling asleep in his arms, that every time she returned to bed - it was just another reminder of their broken relationship.— Lost in a reverie while topping up her tea by the kitchen counter, Daisy's mind wandered into the depths of her thoughts. Oblivious to her surroundings, she was jolted back to reality by the searing pain of boiling water cascading over her foot as she inadvertently spilled it. In a moment of panic, she dropped the kettle, sending her mug crashing to the floor as she cried out in anguish. Tears uncontrollably falling from her eyes, Daisy fell to the floor, careful to end up beside the hot water. Struggling to move, Daisy's gaze fell upon her injured foot, now marked with angry red burns. Sensations of intense pain pulsed through her, driving her to seek relief. With trembling hands, she dragged herself to the fridge, instinctively understanding the need to apply cold to the burn. As she gingerly submerged her foot, the sharp sting intensified, surpassing any discomfort she had ever known. Daisy cursed her misfortune, lamenting the absence of India, who tonight out of all nights, just happened to be out on a date. Despite her reluctance, she reached for her phone, her fingers trembling. In a rush of uncertainty, she considered hanging up, but before she could, he answered. Apologies spilled from her lips, her voice betraying both pain and surprise at his presence on the other end.

"Hi... Sorry... I didn’t mean to... I’ve just... I’ve injured my foot badly with boiling water and I need help. I don’t know why I called you. I’m sorry.”

@mcscal

with his phone pressed to his ear, felt the old familiar flutter in his chest at the sound of daisy’s voice, though it was laced with pain and the kind of vulnerability that he hadn’t heard from her in what seemed like years. he was in their⎯his⎯usual spot at the time, sprawled on his second-hand couch that had seen better days, idly flicking through the telly channels to find something that could capture his attention for more than a fleeting moment. the remote slipped from his fingers as he sat up, his attention now wholly on the woman on the other side. "awh, daisy, don't be hangin' up. you've done nothing to be sorry for," he said, his voice a mix of concern and a hint of that old warmth that used to wrap around her like a well-worn blanket. "where are you now? are you alright to talk me through what happened?" in the midst of the chaos, felt an old, familiar ache that he thought he had tucked away in the back of his mind. daisy's voice on the other end of the line was a siren call to the part of his heart he had tried to seal off. she had been his best friend, the one person who could always draw a laugh from him no matter how foul his mood. but she was also the girl he’d fallen for, the one who had seen past his rough edges and the walls he’d built around himself. when they were together, it had felt like they were invincible, a pair against the world. daisy was his confidant, his partner in crime, his rock when the rebel in him took a hit from life’s slings and arrows. she was the one who'd make him tea exactly how he liked it after a long day, who could finish his sentences and laugh before he even got to the punchline of his jokes. and in turn, he was the one who knew how to calm her storms, how to pull her into a dance in the middle of their living room for no reason other than the song on the radio demanded it. he was up on his feet in an instant, shuffling around to grab his keys and wallet, not caring for the late hour or the fact that he had no clue if daisy even wanted him near.

his mind was racing, trying to remember the first aid training he had haphazardly paid attention to at some point in his life. something about cold water and burns, or was it to keep it dry and wrapped? he shook his head slightly, trying to clear the muddle. "listen, i'm going to come over, all right? it'll take me no time. just... stay on the phone with me, if you can. keep that foot in the cold water, but don't put ice directly on the skin,” paul felt the old instinct to protect, to be the one to make things right, even if it was just to make sure she got proper care for a burn. he couldn't shake off the guilt that it was his arms she missed at night, his absence that made the silence so loud. he had always been a bit rubbish at this emotional stuff, better at showing his care through actions rather than words. when things had started to get really serious, after him reacting awfully in front of a possible pregnancy, when the future became not a distant concept but something that was pressing in on them with all its expectations and demands, he’d panicked. he’d called things off, telling himself it was for the best, that he was saving both of them from a potential disaster. the truth was, he was scared—scared of not being enough, scared of being too much, scared of the intensity of what he felt for her. now, as he hurried through the streets of london waiting for her to tell him where she was, his mind replayed all those moments he’d taken for granted. the way daisy’s eyes crinkled when she laughed, the feel of her hand slipping into his as they walked, the quiet conversations they’d shared in the dark, just before sleep claimed them. he’d been a fool to let his fear push away the best thing in his life.

his heart hammered against his ribcage, a signal of the adrenaline and the old love that still lived within him, never really extinguished. it wasn’t just the burn that had him rushing; it was the sudden, overwhelming need to fix what he’d broken, to be there for her even if she no longer saw him as her person. he wanted—no, needed—to make sure she was alright. "can you tell me how bad it is? is the skin... you know, blisterin' or anything?" he asked, trying to assess the situation while he shoved his feet into the nearest pair of trainers, not bothering to check if they were a matching pair. he could feel the old shyness creeping in, the one that made him hesitate at the door, wondering if he was overstepping. but the thought of daisy in pain, alone, pushed him out the door. the night was brisk, and as he quickened his pace, he tried to keep the conversation going, anything to keep her talking, to know she was still there.

#daisy.

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eddiemunsonlovesme · 2 years

Text

What if Chloe feels like her and Eddie are falling out of love?

The night was cold and empty.

Despite the freedom of being able roam the streets without having to study, something in my chest made my heart sink to the ground. The ominous pain of grief and non-acceptance lurked the depths of my emotions, drowning the serotonin that I once had before.

The glee of being with Eddie Munson, yet now the doubt that the boy I grew closer to is now pulling away.

I tried not to think of it too much for obvious reasons, but during a late night walk in the middle of the road with pouring rain, there’s nothing better to ponder. My hoodie was already soaked and so were my ripped jeans, as well as my hair that drooped sloppily over my face. The only things that weren’t wet were my waterproof Doc-Martins and my glasses. They were still imprinted with water stains which made it unbearable to see, yet my thoughts restrained me from wiping them.

What if Eddie found someone new? When we first began to date, it was I who was insecure. Not because of me, but how I was able to get someone as wonderful as Eddie. It was him who reassured me and taught me to love myself.

You might be wondering, why does Chloe have her doubts?

He’s been distant. There’s been our last year of senior year and we both had tonnes of work, but Eddie has never been the one to study. Even if he was, wouldn’t he have time to… say hello?

Those rare chances that he has talked to me recently, they were brief and he was trying to be loving. I considered there might be something going on at his home…

…so that’s where I’m headed.

After a few minutes of nothing but empty thoughts, I arrived at the familiar trailer of Eddie’s. Wayne, his uncle, works the night shifts at the power-plant. It always gives Eddie and I time to hang out, but those sweet and unplanned moments have faded into the past. With a little luck, I might renew those moments to come to life again - but this time; forever.

I walked up the elevated stairs and knocked on his door softly. After a few moments of waiting in the cold, the door opened. Eddie’s face went from normal, to confused, to panicked.

“Chlo!” He yelled. “Please, come inside. Why were you in the rain?”

“Least of my concerns. Kiss me.”

“What?” He questioned.

“I said…

…kiss me.”

He stared at me once again in confusion, before cupping my face and planting his lips on mine passionately. There was still lots of love and compassion packed within the kiss - perhaps I was wrong about him falling out of love.

Once he broke the kiss, I began to explain. I assumed he would be confused about the sudden gesture.

“I came here to ask you something.”

“What’s that?” He asked, grasping my waist.

“Do you still love me?”

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation or confusion before Eddie replied.

“I love you with all my heart.”

“Then why have you been distant lately?”

“Oh love, I’ve been studying a lot.”

“But… you never study?”

“I know, but I’ve been trying my hardest to graduate. I have been studying as much as possible because I want to be the one to throw my hat and catch yours. I want to carry you home and rejoice our last day of high school. I want to go to the same college as you and be able to come home everyday to see you with me. I want to be a better boyfriend.”

I didn’t expect such an answer. I didn’t think he would recite a whole paragraph to explain himself. He was adorable in that way, and a part of me felt I should have been so much more understanding.

“I’m so sorry. I thought…”

“What?” He asked.

“I thought you fell out of love.”

“What?! I would never. You can’t get rid of me yet, even if you wanted to.” Eddie said with a smile. I smiled in response.

“Then, let’s study together. Maybe I could tutor you.” I suggested. I could tell he liked the idea when he took my hand and lead me to his room which had multiple textbooks shrouding the floor, almost making it impossible to walk in.

“Wow, you really took the study thing on board.” I laughed.

“True, true. Which subject first?”

“History. I would love to teach you about ancient China!”

“Of course, darling.”

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smemento · 2 years

Note

Dvd request here! Can I request survivor reader who can actually kill the killers but decided to play along with the game?? Like one time the reader decided to kill the killers just for fun? Thankyou!

Killing The Killers

Content Tag(s) : basic game violence, k!lling, mentions of gore, some sexual tension, reader discretion advised

Paring(s) : the trapper x reader || the ghostface x reader || the shape x reader || (separate)

A/N : So sorry for taking so long, life has been busy and hurtful but— I'm here (somewhat) now! // have to feed my dbd followers, also I’ve always found it easy to write Myers so forgive me for his longer part.

TRAPPER | Evan MacMillan the foolish wolf.

“You’re the predator right up until you're prey.” - James Sa Corey

When he was free from the entity and released into the realm of the trial, his attention was captured by unfamiliar footprints nearby. They were a pair of two planted and smudged in a dense mud puddle nearby. By a normal gaze, it’d just be mistaken for an accident, a simple walk through in fear. However, when he chose to follow its direction, the truth unfolded with a shoeprint pressed too hard not to be unintentional near one of his traps.

The simple action told him this trial would probably either be the most exciting he's had recently or the most frustrating.

As he knows you are the one behind this.

Since your first arrival, you've shown that you're not meant to be hunted, nonetheless be prey. You showed that you are the peak of a human, having a high intelligence and awareness of yourself and your surroundings. With that being said, Evan is envious of your skills at adapting and conquering instead of being obedient. It’s something that even most Killers wouldn’t dare to try against the entity.

But, that also meant you’re the demise of him and the rest of the killers.

It felt as if you were the entity itself, doing what you wish without the consequences of death, knowing you can always escape.

It frustrated everyone and everything, specifically your ‘dumb luck.’ You didn't use or bring tools into trials often for the sole person of not needing them as you like to take chase. But do say if the killers are intentionally ignoring you, (something Evan does) you run off to open chests with some amazing tools or meds before finally ‘playing.’

If Evan was to find you on gen he’d try to be as quick as possible to snatch you. Of course that never happens with the way you weasel past him, a piece of your clothes or hair straying in the wind from his whiff.

Your giggle following.

Evans’ breathing was heavier than seconds before, his chest rising and easing with this familiar urgency as he stomps after his prey. He managed to get into a chase with Dwight and land hits on Bill and Feng nearby, their distant cries of pain pounding against his eardrums. But, he had tunnel vision on Dwight, wanting him out now so he didn't have to deal with everyone together.

He raised his Cleaver, eyes bloodshot as the wind slices at his swing. He would have hit that damn man to the ground now if it wasn't for you taking the hit. The smell of your blood intoxicating the air and painting both your clothes and his. This was new but a shame for him it didn't last long, you blame it on him for his tunnel vision.

“Clumsy clusmy~”

You smile, as his right foot touches the ground. The snarl of a trap snapping closed filling the air. His hunched-over form gives you the disadvantage and shoves him off of his feet, a series of snaps following, and the killer groaning in agony.

Dwight was long gone, on his way to the gate that Bill and Feng were opening. That left only you, looming over the man with this look that Evan could only say was of bloodlust. The cries of the sirens match your ragged breathing as you step a heel onto him, his disowned weapon now firm in your grasp. The same hand that poured with your blood from the gash on your back, a sloppy one that surely hurt. Yet, you couldn't feel it and he felt as if he understood why as you brought the cleaver over your head.

It was adrenaline, possibly even something else. As you successfully played rabbit long enough to fool the dumb wolf. This whole game he's forgotten his traps because of you. Because of you, he couldn't get them to stop. Because of you, he couldn't get Dwight. And because of you, he's dead.

The death was quick and as painless as possible. As if you were ending the suffering of an animal. His hand only reached out when he returned to his realm, hovering over where you once stood. Evan could've done something. But, he didn't. His body was bitten by traps, littered like poison ivy and fear(?)— no. Impossible. Was it? It made him growl as he presses his hand against his chest.

A mere human, smaller than him and what he believed, weaker than him, tired and caught its prey. Him.

He then realized as he stood that the print from the beginning was a warning. Your warning, maybe even clue or advice that he needs to be smarter. He needs to be the better hunter so he can catch the most sacred creature of all. You.

GHOSTFACE | Danny Johnson

Smile for me.

“When you hunt predators, the best camouflage is weakness” - ANDREW VACHSS

Mr. Ghostface has always been captivated by you. He knows that you aren't just some attractive face willing to fall over for a straddle, that teasing smile and laugh is what tells him exactly that.

Like him, you're playing the game by its rules. You're obeying in your own way and just adding some fun into his life. He thanks you for that, he’ll even thank you personally if he can just manage to get his hands on your quick body. But, he can't, you know him awfully too well for his liking.

And something familiar itched him in the back of his head every time he swiveled around from a bird's call, only being welcomed by well- nothing and looking like an idiot as he walks about to make sure no one is around the corner.

Through the whole trial, you were a mere shadow in the corner of his eye. His head turned to connect and finally get in a chase with you, only for his blood to run cold. The tugging triggering in his brain as the hands trample over his cloak, tightening around him. It felt as if the fangs of a cobra latched onto his neck, its body tightening around him until he fell with a strangled gasp.

He could feel your hands going along his body before taking his beloved knife and camera.

“What do you think you're doing?” He huffed, an obvious annoyance dripping off his voice. This- was not it. At least it was something he wasn't enjoying due to the sole purpose of him not being in on the ‘plan.’ (If you know what I mean).

“I know you aren't that dumb, Ghosty “ A tone of joy kissed his ears as he was pulled back, the flash of a camera temporarily blinding him. One before the death, one after. Something that pissed Danny off to the moon was the way you handled him- after all HE’s supposed to be the one doing this! Not the other way around!

“Smile for me!”

-Were the last words he heard before the fuzz of death overtook him. Since being brought here, he knows what death feels and looks like. And he knows very well that he was dying, one attack after the other being fueled with this shot of adrenaline before his eventual death.

The layered voices of the entity show their obvious disappointment of this trial's performance. Danny grumbled to himself as he rips his mask off, running his grimy hands down his face to get rid of the remaining sweat. By the feel of it, the entity only mended him to the point he would survive, leaving him with the ache of his stabs.

He growled as he snatched up his camera, using an unneeded force while he looks through it. The photo of Meg welcoming before the next did. Where the mere sight made his body freeze, his eyes slightly widening under his mask.

Danny was unsure why he was feeling this exact way. It was a horrendous mix of attraction and competitiveness that stirred in his chest with the sight of you straddling his back; imitating his pose to the exact hold of his knife to the lean, the only real difference being the look you had. A look of a killer he thought.

A look of a challenger. Or maybe simply someone that he had to put in their place.

THE SHAPE || Michael Myers

The other boogeyman.

“Black widows may be powerful predators, but every predator is somebody else's prey.” - Lionel

Michael is very conflicted about his emotions toward you. The only thing he knows for sure is he hates how aware you are. You don’t allow yourself to have tunnel vision when doing tasks and that means you’re always on alert. That being said, the smallest noise, whether it be by the wind or a light step, your attention is already over your shoulder.

Your hands still working with familiarity, your keen hearing focusing on both your surroundings and the task at hand. To him, it’s annoying. To others, it's applaudable. This is why he always tries to play smart if you’re in a trial.

He knows you have Spine Chill, an ability you quickly learned so you can always have a head start on something. You also don’t utilize lockers, not because you don’t know how to you’re just playing smart. After all, if you’re able to get out of his line of sight and out of the area faster, he doesn’t have a chance of catching up to you. (Also because you nearly died during a trial with Bubba and that forever stuck with you).

Long story short, you are the victim that every killer wants to kill for ‘bragging’ rights. Or at least some small validation they want from themselves.

To Michael, you're a stand-in obsession. As the entity quickly took notice of how much he truly wishes to capture you. His intents are similar to his original obsession, but maybe a bit more— possessive. As when you became Bubba’s star obsession for a bit, Myers became a bit, disobedient. The tension between the two killers abnormal and leaving the rest with a disturbance between the realms.

Since the first incident, (him brutally slaughtering Bubba) you became his new obsession if Laurie wasn’t in trial. Even if she was sometimes it’d switch between the two of you, as offerings became more prominent by the Killer when he found out you’d be in a trial.

The Offering was one that was only obtainable by the entity by his performances (sacrificing the whole trial), or lucky run-ins during them. Nothing in between due to him actually being able to get his hands on you. If he was he’d probably cut off a lock of your hair for good luck or something along those lines. After all, not everyone can have the chance to get their hands on a creature like you.

A shame that when he did, he couldn’t cherish it.

You’ve been thinking about this plan for a while, mostly because you had mutual respect and interest in the masked killer. He was the only one that truly made your nerves go haywire and goosebumps erupt on your body. That enough was respectable. To the other survivors, it felt as if you had made him an obsession. (Which isn’t entirely wrong).

However, by the end of the day, it didn’t matter. Especially when you were dragged into a trial with the wisps of the the entity, the fog thick this time around. That itself gives your fellow survivors that you were in the trial, as you’re able to utilize the fog. When stealth you can see those near you, similar to one of Dwight's skills but it only lasts for a couple of seconds with five-second break intervals. Unless the killer is near then it's 10-25 seconds. You can see them up to 10 before the timer starts. ‘See Evil’ is what it began to be called.

Michael mentally scowled for a second at the thick fog. It used to be no problem for him due to it sometimes being a level too short, meaning he’d see over it. But, the entity seemed to have changed her mind over time and returned equality between survivors and killers.

#˗ˏˋ smementowrites #dead by daylight x reader #dbd #˗ˏˋ smw: deadbydaylight #gn!reader #dead by daylight slasher x reader #dbd x reader #˗ˏˋ smwrites #dbd writer #the trapper x reader #the ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #michael myers dbd x reader #michael myers x reader #the shape x reader

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slashbitch2 · 3 years

Text

Lying To Her Love

i noticed there were no fics for lorraine and felt i had to remedy that

also no hate to ed he's a dilf

Lorraine wasn't really sure what prompted her to stray from the group. Conjecture would be the only way to describe it: a sudden desire to distance herself from Ed, to explore the house alone. A new feeling had also arisen deep inside, in her chest if she had to place it, similar to a compass. Like there was an internal needle pointing in the direction she was supposed to go, and she chose to trust this instinct. Though thus far her inference skills had brought about nothing but terrifying situations.

And unfortunately, it seemed this time would be no different...

The needle slowly spun round to point out a set of stairs leading down toward the basement. A layer of dust had settled upon each step, indicating that no one had ventured down so far, which only served to intrigue her further. How, in a paranormal investigation, had no one thought to check the basement? As she drew closer, Lorraine realised there was a very faint set of footsteps. They were too imperceptible to have been made recently, yet the house had supposedly been uninhabited since the disturbances began over a week ago.

Had it not been for the very insistent compass directing her down, the footsteps would've been convincing enough. Careful not to unsettle the evidence, she began to descend down the staircase, one hand tracing along the brick wall as if to ground herself in reality. With each step she could feel a weight bearing down on her chest, a dizzy wave rushing over her. At one point the sensation grew so overwhelming that she had to pause and close her eyes. Whilst stood still, the strange pressure that had been building up in her ears reached its peak. Without opening her eyes, Lorraine knew she'd crossed over to one of her prescience visions.

However, when she eventually did open them, it was to find everything exactly as she'd left it. There were no indications that anything had changed, except for the familiar feeling that she was watching through someone else's eyes. Or rather, watching what someone else wanted her to. She'd been brought here for a reason, and by god she was going to get to the bottom of this. Reinvigorated by a new determination, she practically skipped past the last few steps and onto the cold basement floor.

Here Lorraine found the first confirmation that she was no longer in reality: natural light flooding in from no visible source. It was a welcomed change from the gloom of late evening she'd left behind, but only made her more weary of whatever she was about to encounter since it was clearly trying to lure her into a false sense of security. Nonetheless, she cautiously ambled further into the open space. In fact, it was eerie how empty the room was. Usually she'd be climbing over piles of abandoned objects, trying to give equal attention to each one which often invoked fabrications of the mind. However, here there was nothing for her brain to work with, save for the occasional movement out the corner of her eye that she knew was nothing more than fiction to fill the void and warrant her apprehension.

By the time she'd reached the opposite end of the room, nothing yet had occurred to explain why she'd been dragged into this particular vision. And then, an abrupt, horrifying possibility dawned on her. What if she was stuck here? It had never happened before, but then again, in most cases 'the cause' would've revealed itself by now.

Although, with this realisation came another equally strange one. Lorraine could feel no fear, no panic, no negative emotions. All she was aware of was complete relaxation. Even her most horrific memories and upsetting images couldn't create any response. They were nothing but distant stories told by a different version of her. The positive aura filling the room started to shift into something else, into an almost crippling pleasure. It was both intense and insufficient. She found herself clutching at her stomach, as if she'd suddenly been made aware of an incapacitating emptiness. She longed for company, yet the idea of returning to reality appeared an incredibly unappealing one. Instead, Lorraine wanted to fall further into this dreamlike pleasure.

But that was what it wanted.

With great difficulty, and an exclamation of discomfort, Lorraine turned on her heels to begin her escape. Though she halted upon catching sight of a figure stood before her. She compelled herself to push past the profound ache lingering in her gut, standing up straight to face this mysterious being. Here she came across the second confirmation that this wasn't reality, not that she needed it anymore. You were indescribably beautiful, radiating a sort of divine light like an alluring beacon of possibility.

Most spectres or demons Lorraine met were the opposite. They enveloped the light around them, constructed a dark gap in which there was nothing but pain and regret. They represented everything that couldn't be. A screaming phantom that reminded her to appreciate life.

But you-

You represented all that could've been without any guilt or anguish. You emanated both warm nostalgia and burning desire, the effects of which were palpable for anyone who could tune into the energy, and Lorraine was being strongly subjected to it. Though first and foremost, she had a job to do.

She swallowed, refocused her attention to the task at hand. "Why-" Another wave of dizzying desire washed over her. She tried again. "Why are you-" The world around her was spinning. She blinked rapidly to try stave off vertigo, but stumbled anyway.

A cool reprieve from the searing pleasure caught hold of her. Using the embrace for support she stabilized herself only to come face to face with you.

Despite your overpowering influence on her, you appeared surprisingly human up close. Normal enough to blend in with reality, but sufficiently attractive to be memorable. Still there was something irresistible to your appearance that encouraged Lorraine to sink further into your hold, to move her hands to wrap around the back of your neck. She hadn't felt so loved since early on in her relationship with Ed...

Ed.

She shouldn't be doing this. Her marriage commitment ought to have her fighting against you- but that was practically inconceivable. Besides, how could something morally wrong feel so right? No, this wasn't infidelity. She wasn't exactly sure what it was, but not that. She would never cheat on Ed.

The temptation was intoxicating. Lorraine's hands started to trace patterns along any available skin, savouring the unfamiliar yet exhilarating sensation. You weren't a living breathing person so there was something different about the way you felt that she was eager to investigate. In response to her caress, you brought one hand up to cup her cheek, maintaining intimidating yet intimate eye contact. The touch emitted pure pleasure and Lorraine gasped as she leant into the contact. Time seemed to slow as neither moved, opting to stare at the other in silence instead.

She was vaguely aware that time moved differently in her visions. That the longer she spent in one, the more time had passed upon return. Though currently it was the least of her worries. All she could focus on right now was you and the close proximity that appeared to be narrowing still. Your gaze had dropped to the lower half of her face. Lorraine did the same, her eyes fixating on your lips. However, before you closed the gap she raised a hand, motivated by a new desire. She was shaking slightly, but ignored it to gently brush a finger along your lips. She wanted a taste of the upcoming kiss, and was pleasantly unsurprised. As expected, the touch only reasserted her conviction.

She'd never wanted anything- anyone- as much as she did now.

Suddenly your mouth was upon hers, bringing cooling bliss with it. Lorraine moaned. She felt again a rush of possibilities, the surging tide of everything that could be. The muted uncertainty at the back of her mind blurred into nothingness as she clung onto you. Your mouth was the only solid thing in a swaying world, and she planned on indulging herself in the addictiveness of it. She parted her lips, provoking insatiable tremors along her nerves and another rush of giddiness. She felt young, as if she were experiencing intimacy for the first time again.

Your hands were everywhere, carrying an influx pleasure. She'd never felt anything quite like it. Time became irrelevant, everything except you was meaningless. She was lost to an eternity of bliss, in a realm of endless fulfilment. It was incomprehensible, otherworldly.

And then it was over.

She hadn't noticed she was lightly crying, or trembling so much. Or that she was on the ground. You'd simply disappeared and she'd collapsed. But someone was holding her now, someone else.

"Lorraine!" Ed was crouching before her, gently shaking her out of the dreamlike state and back to consciousness. She'd never loathed him so much for saving her.

"What happened?" He asked, lowering to meet her eyes. "Are you okay?"

She scoffed, her mind trying to comprehend all that'd just happened. She was left reeling from the sudden weight of Ed's touch and separated from him. "I'm fine." Her voice barely breached a whisper.

"Did you see anything?"

Lorraine finally met his eyes, but she couldn't tell him.

"No." She answered. "There's nothing here." She lied.

#lorraine warren x reader #vera farmiga x reader #lorraine warren

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writingssummit · 3 years

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Hi I just read you’re tsukishima story and it was so cute omg but I have an idea

Let’s say y/n has a huge crush on tsukishima since they were children right. But tsukishima never rlly liked y/n in that way. So he would always like be kinda aggressive but like not in the physical way, like he would be cold to her whenever y/n would constantly say something abt them dating. In reality he did like her but he didn’t realize it. Then suddenly a new guy shows up, he’s like really handsome and he’s in a small band, he plays the bass. Y/n actually listens to that band and she was so excited so the two of them click really easy, that’s when she starts being distant with tsukishima and stops the talks abt them dating, tsukishima starts to miss everything y/n would say to him and he wanted to get y/n back, but when he tries he sees y/n and the guy sharing a peck 😔‼️ sorry if this was longgggg ugh

a/n: ahhh! I’m glad you thought so, haha! don’t worry about the length, specifics are always welcome! <3 this is a really good idea! i think it ended up on the longer side, but yk, more content is good? i also ended up naming him, so it’s easier to refer to him. i keep holding on to highschool settings i’m sorry LMAO- i haven’t finished season 4 and i’m not reading the manga yet :( but anyways, here’s a bit of angst/unrequited love to balance out my recent fluff posts !

asks/requests: open !

word count: 2.6k

warnings?: some angst/unrequited love

worth a try.

- TSUKISHIMA KEI -

growing up with tsukishima had been a whirlwind of experiences. ever since you had moved and transferred to his school the last year of primary school, you’d been drawn to him. the tall, blonde kid with glasses. you found his pride in volleyball admirable, and you even found him to be so much cooler than you ever would be.

you originally didn’t know anybody when you first moved, but you fit right in with both tsukishima and his own friend. it was a strange combination, but it worked somehow. while tsukishima was rude, and yamaguchi timid, you were loud and energetic. you were lively. you challenged him just for the fun of it, you poked and prodded, just having fun being around him.

you were his self-declared best friend.

looking back on it, you probably always had feelings for tsukishima. back in those days when you tried to get into volleyball yourself. wanting to be like him, you tried your best, but you weren’t all that good. he would make fun of you for it, but you weren’t bothered by settling for being supportive of him and your freckled friend. You were just as passionate as they were about it.

you were even there when that passion jaded. watched as he stared at his brother from across the game.

it was when you started junior high, that you came to the conclusion that you were in love with your friend. but unlike most people, you did nothing to hide it. why would you? you were always open, always honest and straight to the point. you just weren’t one to hide that.

“go out with me, tsukki!” you poked his side with a cheeky grin, your eyes bright. your friend wasted no time in rejecting you.

“no.”

“aw, you sure?”

“i would never date somebody so stupidly annoying.” you shook off the blatant insult, laughing instead with your hand on your neck. a small thing you picked up from your other friend. yamaguchi.

“you’ll come around one day!”

“i doubt that.”

it went on like that all throughout your remaining years until high school. a constant back and forth that became a schedule at that point.

it was decided that tsukishima would be going to karasuno, as would yamaguchi. and so would you. you would go where they go, you’d never thought about leaving them both. you’d stay with them as long as possible, holding on to their friendship like it was your lifeline..

and holding onto tsukishima even more so.

you were there with them on the first day, when they joined volleyball club. that first practice match against aoba johsai.

you weren’t always watching their practices, since you had your own club duties to attend to of course. but you always made sure to stop by the clubroom while the boys were getting ready, just to say hi to everyone and to a certain someone.

“hey, hey!” you poked your head from around the door, waving a hand. the team greeted you cheerfully enough, minus tsukishima. who looked annoyed to no end.

“tsukki, wanna go grab something to eat after your practice? i know a really great spot!”

he didn’t even look at you, only giving you the middle finger.

you laughed, shrugging. “worth a try.”

the first time the team had witnessed your very forward approach to asking the extremely salty and crude boy out, they were surprised. the way he turned you down so effortlessly too, threw them off. the added shock of anybody even liking him was the cherry on top.

“is this normal?” sugawara asked, a chuckle falling from his lips. asahi was beside him, sweatdropping at the sight of your affectionate display, and tsukishima’s obvious lack of reciprocation.

yamaguchi smiled awkwardly, nodding. “well- yeah, actually. It’s been happening for years.”

“i’d kill to have somebody all over me like that! lucky bastard!” tanaka held his fist up dramatically, as if clenching his heart in it. he even had a tear in the corner of his eye.

“well then, i’ll be on my way! good practice, everyone!” you chirped, finally leaving them.

“l/n’s got some serious determination.” tanaka whistled.

“misplaced determination. they won’t shut up about dating, it’s annoying.” tsukishima didn’t sound as impressed as his loud senpai was.

yamaguchi tilted his head to the side. “really? i would’ve thought tha-”

“shut up.”

a small laugh. “sorry, tsukki.”

it would forever continue, it seemed like. you never thought you’d give it up, you always knew that you liked tsukishima. your heart would pound, your stomach would feel fluttery. but even though you’ve been with him since you were children, it didn’t seem like he’d grown to feel the same. it would get you down sometimes, his mean and harsh words whenever you’d bring it up. either casually, or intentionally.

you couldn’t help being so hopelessly whipped!

you were walking down the sidewalk with yamaguchi and tsukishima, humming along to a new song that had been dropped recently. you were so into it, strumming your fingers like you were the one playing in the recording. tsukishima watched you with critical eyes, but yamaguchi watched as if this was entertaining.

“new song, l/n?” yamaguchi asked you, and you paused the music. you nodded right away, grinning.

“yeah! there’s this kind of new band I found a bit ago, i think around the time you guys met nekoma for that first practice match? their music is so cool!” you could go on and on about them, to be honest. they may be small, and very underground, but you liked them anyways.

“wahh, they sound cool- right, tsukki?” yamaguchi and you both looked behind at him, faces expecting the same sentiment.

he only scoffed.

you roll your eyes playfully, sidling up to him for the first time today. “you want to go get some ice cream, tsukki?” you wished, hoped for him to just say yes for once. your heart was begging at this point.

“get out of my face, l/n.” he said coldly.

with a defeated sigh, you walked a few steps quicker, before unpausing the music. the humming resumed, and yamaguchi glanced back and forth between you both with a weary expression.

“you could try to be a bit nicer, tsukki-”

“they can’t take a damn hint, it’s not my job to be nice about it.” He said stubbornly.

yamaguchi sighed himself, nodding along. there wasn’t a point in continuing the topic; he always shut it down whenever yamaguchi brought it up. he’s never been so aggressive about something before.

interhigh had come, taking up your friend’s time with it. you were upset that they’d be so busy now, but with the new tournament coming, came a new student.

he was friendly, and cheerful, and honestly probably one of the most charming people you’ve ever met in your life. he even looked familiar to you, like you’ve seen him somewhere before. you couldn’t figure it out, so you just opted to the conclusion you must have just passed him down the street at some point. or some strange case of deja vu? either way, he was in your class now.

you were just coming back from the bathroom, your earbuds plugged into your ears like they usually were nowadays.

“l/n, please take your earbuds out, it’s class time.” iour teacher scolded you gently, and you pouted a little. It was just getting to a good part-

you had tugged on them a little too hard, and instead of just getting them out of your ears, they came out of the headphone jack completely.

you were embarrassed as your new favorite band’s music started blasting out of the phone’s speakers, and you hurried to turn it off. You were blushing, laughing at yourself as you went to go sit back down.

ahh, dang! everyone heard that! you were just laughing at yourself in your head now.

there was a tap on your desk, and you turned your face towards the hand. it was the new kid, and his face looked bright.

“you listen to my band’s music?” he whispered to you, his face beaming, and you gasped quietly.

“is this you?” you pointed at your pocket, where your phone rested. he nodded.

“that’s so- wow, i go to school with one of the people in my favo-”

“l/n, do you have something to say about the lecture?”

you shook your head violently, holding back a huge grin. “n-no, miss!” your teacher sighed, and continued past the interruption.

the looks you both shared didn’t go unnoticed by tsukishima.

everyday now, you were hanging around the new kid. you had come to learn his name, which was ishiwaka teruo. you both had hit it off instantly, it was like you guys had known each other forever, and not just a few weeks. it was almost like some crazy twist of fate, or luck. you guys were both alike in a lot of ways, held similar passions, too.

“see you, ishi!” you waved a hand, grinning as he waved a goodbye back. you guys didn’t take the same way home, so he ended up leaving the opposite direction, while you walked with tsukishima and yamaguchi. you were humming again, one of ishiwaka’s band’s songs.

“you seem pretty happy, l/n.” yamaguchi chuckled, watching as you danced a little.

“oh yeah, you bet! ishi actually invited me to sit in for one of his practices, isn’t that so cool? he plays the bass, and he even offered to teach me a few chords. i don’t really mess with instruments, but-”

“can you shut up about him? all you do is just yap on and on about this guy, hanging out with him isn’t enough for you? what’s so special anyways?” his tone was harsh, and condescending. “if you’re just going to talk about him all the time, i’m not walking with you guys anymore.” your eyes widened as soon as you heard what tsukishima had just said. your heart was pounding, like it had been caught in the act of something terrible. you even felt slightly ashamed.

“wow, nice, tsukki. sorry for being excited about something.” you muttered, clutching your bag straps tight. what did you expect at this point? he didn’t like you as much as you thought, if he was so ready to just leave you behind. yamaguchi sensed the tension between you both, which made him uncomfortable.

you were all quiet for the rest of the way home.

interhigh came and went, the loss against aoba johsai stung the volleyball team, leaving their spirits broken, and cracked. you hadn’t been to the game that day, busy with a certain band member. and your missing presence hadn’t been looked over.

“where were you?” tsukishima had confronted you in the hallways, while you were walking with ishiwaka to the water fountain. it was break, which meant he could freely talk to you now.

you looked away from him, a nervous air around you that wasn’t like you at all.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t make it, tsukki- i heard that you guys lost, and i’m really sorry i couldn’t have been there!” your words were careful and slow, like you were thinking on how to say the right thing to him.

the blonde closed his eyes, and looked off to the side. he didn’t look pleased in the slightest. “were you with your precious band member? like some kind of groupie.”

ishiwaka raised an eyebrow, and you just shook your head. tsukishima was really doing this right now? you said sorry, what else were you supposed to say?

“you know what, yeah. i was with him. it’s not like..it’s not like i have to be around you or yamaguchi every second of the day, okay?” you sighed. “look, i’ll make it to your next practice, and skip my club activities. is that fine?”

he hesitated, before giving you a curt nod. you smiled in relief. “great! i’ll see you then. now, about that specific measure-”

you had left him behind, and tsukishima had been hit with a realization.

you hadn’t mentioned going on a date at all. not today, not even within the past few weeks. was something wrong with you? he’d gotten so used to that, but now even that wasn’t a constant.

it was like you were slipping away from him, day by day.

and he realized that he didn’t like that.

as the days went on, thoughts about this ran rampant through his mind. it was maddening, he was trying to focus on school, and now, as he was walking to the clubroom, volleyball. he was scarily silent, and yamaguchi caught onto it right away.

“tsukki?” he asked quietly, not wanting to push. but he wanted to know. ever since tsukishima had come back from break that day, he’d been acting strange. he was even saltier, if that was possible.

“am i not enough for l/n?” he spit out the question, like it was a disease.

taken aback, the freckled boy could only blink. the two stopped walking, looking right at each other now. “what?”

tsukishima barked out a laugh, running a hand over his face in frustration. “you heard me, yamaguchi.”

yamaguchi’s jaw dropped. “do you miss them?” was he for real? was this jealousy actually coming from tsukishima?

“hell if i know.” he muttered. but he knew the answer, and that’s what upset him.

“i knew it. tsukki, why did it have to be now, though?” he shook his head in disbelief. at the utter obliviousness of this boy. yamaguchi knew himself that there was something there in tsukishima, something resembling feelings for you. but of course it was when you were no longer always around that he saw it.

“what?”

“l/n isn’t a puppy anymore, they’re not following after you. if you haven’t noticed, they’ve given up. you need to do this yourself, and fix it.” yamaguchi stated. he wouldn’t be lying if he said that he’d been frustrated with the back and forth between you both, it was so obvious to him, but apparently not obvious to tsukishima. or you, for that matter.

“i know that.” he muttered. he would have to confront you about this. was he stupid? why didn’t he get this before?

“then do something about it.”

tsukishima was quiet.

it was decided by him that he’d catch you outside of practice, since you said you’d be coming to watch. it was a quick, and impulsive decision from him, but he needed this to be figured out. his head was at it’s most unclear, and that was affecting him.

you were affecting him.

he looked around the outside of the gym, trying to see if he could spot you coming. it took a minute, before he saw a figure off to the side. it was you, he could tell by that bag anywhere. he stepped out, only to be met with the full picture.

you were with ishiwaka, and you were kissing him.

tsukishima hurried back into the gym with a stone-cold expression. oh. so this is where he stood now.

no longer at the top of your list, no longer important.

you walked into the gym, beaming. it angered tsukishima, more than he should have been. he yanked your arm, and held you by them with a vice grip. you looked up at your friend with nervous, maybe even scared eyes. you hadn’t seen tsukishima like this before.

“what is he to you?”

you blinked. “wh-what?”

“who is he to you? that little bass player.” his eyes were searching yours, for anything, anything that he could hold on to. you didn’t respond, only looking away from his intense stare.

your eyes didn’t hold that same look that they used to whenever you looked at him.

he had his answer. and he didn’t like it. so he let go of you, maybe for real this time. things had changed so much, right under his nose. and he had let it happen.

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader angst #tsukishima x reader angst

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

quirk mastery

— In which Mirio gets his quirk back and he’s desperate to show you just how well he’s remastered permeation.

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pairing: togata mirio x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, pwp-ish, semi-public sex, clothed sex, anal, size difference, finger sucking, fingering

word count: 4,021

a/n: day three of kinktober and here we be!!! this was based on the concept of mirio being the perfect candidate for have clothed penetrative sex LMAOOO. make sure to comment (even if its a simple emoji) on any fics you like, authors super appreciate it.

main kink: anal

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To be quite honest, you never thought Mirio was going to get his quirk back.

You remember when it happened in high school.

The cold fall morning as you had woken up earlier than usual for a school day, deciding that maybe you should get a cup of tea given that it had been cold and something just felt off.

Nearly three years ago, when you had arrived through the doors of UA as a hero student, you had taken your seat in class 1-B, and almost immediately, your class became your family. Everyone was so talented, lively, and brimming with their own excitement of being here, but one person always just seemed to be brighter than the rest.

His smile captivated the first moment he looked at you, his blue eyes so precise and accurate you knew immediately he was someone to trust.

His name was Togata Mirio, and true to his sunshine hair, his own sunshine personality allowed the entire class to address him by his first name within hours of meeting him. It was no surprise that you felt your heart skip a beat when he placed a strong arm around your shoulder later in the year because you had fallen for your classmate.

As a third-year, you still harbored deep feelings for your classmate and now best friend. But you knew better than to enact on them at the moment. You were busy with your hero work, and his latest work-study with the former All Might’s sidekick kept him busy nearly every day.

He would still be there once you graduated, you always liked to remind yourself. But as energetic as Mirio was, he definitely was not an early riser. So it shocked you that as you reached the dorm's kitchen area, he was standing there quiet and fully dressed in his school uniform. His eyes were concentrated on his phone, and his face was serious, for a moment, the off feeling you had seemed to make sense as you stared at his solemn face.

“Mirio?” you had called out, suddenly feeling a bit underdressed in your pajamas, and you held onto your elbow as you stared at your flirt of a classmate. “You okay? We still have an hour and a half before classes start.”

It seemed that he had not even heard you enter the room based on how he startled just the bit before turning his gaze towards you.

Blue eyes murky with regret and guilt. You hated that they weren't clear, and you always hoped they would be cleared soon.

“I’ve got my work-study today,” Mirio answers with a soft smile that doesn’t clear his eyes. “Something came up, so I'll be gone for the morning. We’ll probably be back before classes end today.”

You nod your head, already knowing who belonged within that we.

“Are you doing okay? You’ve been looking a bit… uh, worse for wear, and I don’t want you getting hurt because you’re distracted by other things,” you admit, venturing further into the kitchen so that you leaned against the opposite side of the counter of where Mirio stood.

The smile on his face grows just a bit, a small spark dazzling in his clear blue eyes before he shakes his head good-naturally.

“You admitting you care about me?”

“Have I ever denied it?”

Mirio laughs softly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck before a heavy sigh passes his lips, “I guess not.”

You keep the frown off your face at those words, his inability to flirt back slightly concerning, but you stop before you can frown. By the front door of the dorms is none other than Tamaki and Nejire from class 1-A, two other close friends of yours, and equally involved in this case of theirs that they all refuse to tell you about. Guess that’s what happens when you join Edgeshot’s agency.

Mirio follows your gaze and motions to your friends that he’ll be joining them in just a moment before he turns back to you.

“Well, looks like it’s time,” Mirio speaks with finality, his shoulders as stiff as his smile, and your heart aches just the slightest bit.

“Be careful, Mirio,” you say firmly, your eyes locked on his that have become emotionless. That pit in your stomach is unignorable as you speak up on your concerns. “I know you’re strong, but please be careful.”

Mirio stills for a moment before he nods, and he walks around the counter. His arms stretching out, pulling you into a tight hug that you more than willingly return. It seems like the two of you stand there hugging each other for centuries before Mirio makes a soft noise in an unwilling attempt to tell you to let go.

“I know, I know,” you sigh, pulling away, your eyes meeting his for the millionth time. “You’ve To-gata go now.”

And for the first time in weeks, his blue eyes clear up, and a proper genuine laugh breaks through his lips as he shakes his head, already walking away.

“You’re pretty amazing, y/n-chan!” he shouts as he opens the front door, and you can hear Nejire calling her hellos to you. “I’ll be back before you can even blink!”

“You better!” you call out, waving at your three friends who bunch up and walk off.

As you watch their retreating backs, the pit in your stomach remains as you whisper softly: please.

It’s within twenty-four hours that you find out the case they were working, and you feel sick when Mirio doesn’t return, confirming to you that he was the one to have lost his quirk that day. When Mirio returns two days later, it’s not with good news as he admits to you that he’ll be leaving UA now that his quirk is gone.

His eyes are clear again, not at all like he was two days ago as the two of you seem to only be talking to one another within the crowd of both class 3-A and 3-B. It’s later once everyone is gone that he admits that a young girl who was responsible for his quirks erasure could potentially bring it back, but it’s unknown at the moment.

You remember holding his cheeks and promised him that even if it doesn’t come back, he would always be a hero who, in the end, did what he set out to do, saving a million people. It was almost shocking to you as you watched for the first time since his teacher died in front of him, Mirio crying yet again, his face buried into the crook of your neck.

But that was five years ago.

Five long years of being a Pro Hero in a society that no longer looked the same.

Three years of finally being able to call Mirio your boyfriend.

One year of organizing the current hero gala, the two of you are attending right now.

One month of Mirio finally regaining his quirk.

In a heavily watched attempt, Eri-chan, who had been able to figure out a way to train her quirk. It was all due to the help of a young yet brilliant support engineer, Hatsumi Mei, without having to interact with real soul-having things. It took almost ten hours, but the young girl was both resilient and determined as you watched as she sat with her fingers pressed to Mirio’s cheeks and a warm yellow glow surrounded her.

The shriek that ripped through you when Mirio suddenly fell through the floor, your initial fear of Eri completely rewinding him from existence flaring in your chest, and undoubtedly hers as she gasped in horror. You watched his clothes dropping from where he once sat, and then you could hear the familiar, distant sound of Mirio being rejected by matter, and you bolted at Eri. It was a frantic team effort response to make sure Eri would not see him in his naked glory when he resurfaced, and that memory still sent you in a round of uproarious laughter.

But a Heroes Gala was something that was occurring recently, and it wasn’t quite what it had once been before. Pro Heroes were not recognized within these events; instead, the common man was, and more importantly, helping those deemed as outcasts within society. With the reign of AFO gone, and the destruction of what the heroism did to society, it had been a weird shift in energy, but a needed one.

Pro Heroes Deku and Ground Zero being the trailblazers on that front, pushing to look at the reasons the world deemed villains as so, and doing their best to fix it at the source.

It definitely wasn’t perfect, far from it actually, but these galas helped to keep energies high on many different fronts.

Speaking of high energy, if your face was able to emit heat energy similar to that of a sun, right now, you would be a supernova.

Located in some hallway in the back of the event, you sat on a marble table. Your legs somehow wrapped around Mirio’s waist, arms thrown around his neck, pressing his gliding lips even closer to you as he enthusiastically, carefully, and completely dominated your lips. To the rest of the world, it just seemed like the two of you were simply indulging into your horny twenty-three-year-old needs. There was nothing conspicuous about what you both were doing, not if your clothed states had anything to say about it.

But that was just the thing.

Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, the large, voluminous skirt of your evening gown easily covered Mirio’s powerful, thrusting hips, blanketing his ulterior motives with fabric from the rare eye that managed to come and look at the both of you.

Maybe if they had x-ray vision, they would know the truth; they could see it too.

For not even five minutes ago, you had teasingly whispered just how hot Mirio looked in his get-up. Your teeth nibbling on his earlobe about how excited you were that when you two would inevitably get home, his clothes would be gone in a matter of seconds. It seemed that your boyfriend wanted to jump the gun and just show you what both of you had been missing these past three years.

You could barely keep up with his quick, long strides. Your heels caught onto the length of your gown multiple times until he had brought you into this hallway and picked you up without so much of a grunt and planted your bottom on the exceptionally sturdy table. It still hadn’t hit you just what he had intended to do when his lips crashed against yours, and the world exploded into white static as he kissed you, consuming your mouth with every fiber of his being.

A gentle moan left your mouth when his tongue entered your mouth, but the prominent, hard bulge pressing between you and the many, many layers of fabric made you yelp. You pulled away from his lips, your eyes, wide, impossibly frantic.

“Togata Mirio!” you hissed in shock, your hand slapping across your mouth as you simply stared at your lover who was smiling at you brightly.

The smile and the clear blue of his eyes let nothing indicate just how fucking hard he was and how much he craved your cunt around his cock just as you had teased him about earlier.

“What is it, sunflower?” Mirio asks, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face. Your spine stiffens up as he leans in close, his mouth pressing against yours for a small, seemingly chaste kiss before he presses the corner of his mouth to your ear. “I think I’m having some issues with my quirk control, and I think this is the perfect way to practice the uh… fine-tuning of my quirk. Right?”

“Mirio…” you warn as he softly begins to grind against you, his large hand shifting from your shoulder blades down to your lower back. The pressure of his hand provided such numbing heat to blaze through your core, and it only added to the feeling of his cock against your slowly seeping cunt.

“Dontcha want to help me practice?” Mirio asks, his teeth biting onto your earlobe, and a wanton moan reverberates from your chest at the feeling. “Help me master my quirk again?”

You’re not sure what makes you cave, what makes you say fuck it under your breathe. It could have been the heat of his breath on your ear, the way he kissed down your jaw, the clear blue of his eyes glazing over darkly with lust, and maybe it was the way you could manage to feel his cock through the miles of fabric between the two of you. It didn’t matter now anyway, it couldn’t because you turned towards his face, your lips desperately seeking his, and thankfully Mirio met you there immediately.

Hot desperate mouths clashing together, tongues meeting in the middle, and you could feel his hands shoving you towards him until there was no space between your meeting hips if you ignored the dress and his pants.

Your hazed over mind chanted to be ready for anything, to be prepared for the feeling of his cock against your already soaked cunt, and to not be surprised. Nevertheless, when you felt the hot, heavy, and stupidly thick head of Mirio’s cock pressing between your desperately needy folds, going against all of your brain's logic of how this shouldn’t be possible with your panties still on.

“M-Mirio!” you cried, head knocked back at the feeling of his cock pressing through your tight, clenching hole. His cock thick, veiny, and hot, even in your inner walls as he kisses you. You couldn’t focus on him, your mouth agape and lax, his lips pressing against your teeth, tongue curling on the roof of your tongue, and you wantonly moaned as he shifted outwards and slammed right back into you.

For the past three minutes, the two of you had begun this desperate, needy, over your clothes public fuck. Your hands feeling so small, pressed onto his back. Your mouth biting into his neck as he slammed into you over and over again.

The heat in your stomach was throbbing, the soft thrumming of your orgasm about to tip as Mirio claimed you like this.

“So cute like this, baby,” he laughed as if his cock wasn’t stretching you out despite all your clothes still being on. You felt his cock head press up against your cervix, and a loud pathetic whine stumbled out of your lips. “Did you like that? Finally, got to that little spot you like despite this angle?”

He hit it again, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, all noises that so desperately wanted to be heard getting cut off.

“Look at you! You’re so cute like this, sunflower! You can’t even look at me, and you’re babbling! I think I’m doing great… job… at this, fuck, quirk control…”

Your eyes flutter shut, a gasping, needy breath expelling into his mouth as he kisses you greedily, and the heat grows exponentially when his hand permeates through your dress to pinch and pull at your clit. You’re so close, so deliriously near that, you begin to seize up, your walls fluttering with the actions that you know mean that you’re about to nosedive off a cliff into orgasmic bliss.

But there were always issues with having sex in public with a man who could not shut up.

“Togata-senpai, Y/l/n-senpai!” A voice yells at the two of you. Even with the thrumming warmth of your pre-orgasm, the voice washes coldly over you. Rippling the start of orgasmic bliss right from beneath your feet as you snap your head away from Mirio.

A loud, choked gasp escapes you when for a split second, his cock disappears from your clenching, denied cunt in an experience you could not begin to explain.

“Iida-kun!” Mirio exclaimed jovially as if the two of you weren’t at all fucking moments before, but as he did so, he seemed to deactivate his quirk on his cock.

“What are the two of you doing here! It is quite preposterous for the two of you to be… canoodling within the gala when we are all awaiting your presence!” Iida exclaims, his hands cutting and chopping at the air as he seems to frown at the both of you.

But you were busy with other thoughts.

With his cock completely solid back inside of you, tears were leaking from your eyes as white, hot pain erupted in your stomach and curled all the way down into your toes.

Mirio returned his cock into your ass, and the lack of any warning due to his quirk nearly had you throwing up in this new sensation. Your fingers curled roughly into Mirio’s shoulders, your ragged breathing “I’m-in-so-much-pain” breathes alerting both of the men before you who turned their attention to you.

“Are you okay, sunflower?” Mirio asked, his voice filled with genuine concern as he brushed a tear that managed to streak down your cheek. “What’s going on?”

“Yes, what is going on? What can I get for you, Y/l/n-senpai?”

“It h-hurts!” you cry, eyes locking onto Mirio’s, who seemed to gather just what was going on as his eyes grow with worry and also knowing actions.

He shifted slightly, and his cock that was already so big moved within your ass, and you balked. You leaned forward onto Mirio’s chest, feeling absolutely dwarfed by your boyfriend as you held onto him with trembling arms and soft groans of pain and growing, intense pleasure.

“Ah, Iida-kun, would you mind if you could possibly give us some room? I promise we’ll join the gala in less than ten minutes?”

You can’t even see Iida’s reaction given that your eyes are leaking with your tears and the fact that you can’t even raise your head to look at your old younger-classmen.

“Of course, I’ll leave y/l/n-senpai to you, but if anything happens, please come and get me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you!”

Your sniffling doesn’t seem to stop as Iida’s loud footsteps confirms his exit, but Mirio’s mouth is by your ear again, his hips taking a tentative, shallow thrust that sends you whining like a bitch in heat. Anal was something that Mirio loved to do. He always confessed to you each and every time as his cock would line up to your muscled rim that there was just something indescribably hot about you taking his cock that way.

Mirio was a big dude with a bigger cock, and you usually could, in fact, handle — thoroughly enjoy — anal with the proper steps to lead into it, but this was a cock appearing in your ass without warning or knowing of it happening. You could feel your tears streaming down your neck, but bubbling moans of pleasure had already started again. The pain of the surprise was already wearing off by the time Iida had disappeared, and Mirio was once again shifting his hips for your best pleasure.

“God, I can’t believe you took my cock in your ass that calmly,” Mirio whispers in pure admiration, his hips taking longer, deeper strokes into you. “That was so fucking hot, I’m sorry I lost control like that.”

“S-Shut up…” you gasped, hands fisting into his coat as you tried to ride out the waves of pain instead. “Fuck m-me already.”

The laugh that seems to grow right from Mirio’s stomach makes your skin crawl as he nods his head, his hands grabbing your chin to stir you into a kiss as he begins to thrust into your asshole with much more daring conviction.

“I always forget how much you like this!” he sighs against your lips. “Always so ready for my cock no matter where it is.”

You whimper loudly, teeth burying into your lower lip, the slick from your cunt slowly gliding down to his cock, allowing for partial lubing.

In and out, he moves, his hips moving faster than a manageable speed. Even without him being a hero, Mirio had kept himself in pique condition, and moments like this proved it. His fast rutting and delirious power into every slam of his cock into your ass was commanding and revolutionary. Your eyes welled with tears at the constipated feeling in your asshole, your mouth pressing back into his neck, sobbing his name. His fingers dive down and permeate through your dress and panties, and you swear you’re drooling when his calloused, hot fingers tweak and pull at your clit, savagely teasing it.

Mirio laughs softly at the way you’re trying to hide your cries of pleasure. How you’re burying your head into his shoulder, teeth biting into his clothed skin. His thrusting movements became quicker, harder, and more consistent until a familiar sensation of his balls slapping your skin burned your mind.

He was—

Holy shit—

He was making sure you could feel his once concealed balls against your skin and the warbled, shameless scream that he interrupted by shoving his fingers in your mouth.

“More,” you beg around his fingers, staring straight up at him. Your saliva coating his fingers, lips sucking around his fingers in hopes that he’ll heed your command. “Fuck my asshole harder.”

Mirio merely groans the pinch on your clit, making your hips buck awkwardly and pathetically against his cock and balls because of the table. And he began to barbarically slam into you so that the soft thudding of the counter hitting the wall shudders down your spine.

Your body shifts with his every movement, the counter rocking with the force, your slick pouring from your cunt, and he let go of your tongue. In your crazed state, you sob at the loss of contact, but his hand that had been playing and teasing your clit shifts so that his thumb resides on your clit, and three of his fingers curl into your throbbing, orgasm denied cunt. The force alone nearly sends your eyes flying open, your vision still blurred with tears when his fingers drag against your puffy walls that you knew would let you squirt if he manipulated it just enough.

His fingers work at double the speed of which his hips slam into you. His fingers pushing the limits of your heat radiating walls, dragging them deliciously against your clenching heat. Then there was his cock, and at times the thin walls that separated his fingers and his cock brushed together, sending you into a new frenzy while you sobbed his name.

Begging for more, pleading to make you come.

“You needa come, sunflower?” Mirio huffs, his sweaty forehead pressing against yours, and you moaned loudly, knowing that he was also close. “Then come for me. Come against my cock and my fingers!”

“I-It feels so fucking good, so good baby,” you garble. Your jaw is unable to move for its slack against his shoulder. Your cooes only adding to the electrifying pleasure singing through your nerves, and with a loud squelch from your pussy, you come hard against his fingers, your ass instinctively tightening up at well.

You could feel the more foreign sensation of wet heat fill your ass as Mirio collapses against you, his heart hammering in his chest as the two of you just sit there. Your hands shifting to thread into his soft, fluffy hair as his limp cock disappears from within you, and you groan at the loss of feeling.

“Gross…” you mumble as Mirio stands straight up again after some time.

“Wha—”

“You came in my ass,” you sigh, although not at all displeased with it.

“Oh, sorry! I got a bit overexcited!”

It takes an additional three minutes for you to be willing to move to return to the event, but as you do, Mirio has an arm around your waist, readying to keep you upright all night if needed.

“Ne, Mirio?” you call as the both of you return to the main stage.

“Hm?”

“I think you’ve pretty much mastered your quirk again!”

#togata mirio x reader #mirio x reader #mirio smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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kylosgenesis · 3 years

Text

Teardrops on Fire

Synopsis:

Steve Rogers is the last Alpha of the an almost extinct Lycan pack. With only less than 100 members left. Steve must produce an heir to ensure the species survival and reduce the chance of attacks from others. Omegas are rare, and betas have a hard time producing children. Steves reality is finally setting in as his obligation of producing an heir faces a major set back.

Reader is the last suitable omega to mate with Steve, due to the fear of her daughters fate in the pack, her mother kept her hidden from the pack after her own exile. Only her mother, and Bucky's family know of her existence. Bucky is Steve's right hand man, and the packs best warrior! He and the reader developed a friendship and bond over the years, but age forced them to become distant.

What happens when she presents and her first heat cycle comes? Her body is in excruciating pain and a strong fever quickly overcomes her body. Facing the fear of her daughters possible death, her mom calls on the only person who can save her at this point, Alpha Steve! Bucky and the alphas friendship will be tested. The reader will be faced with her love for Bucky or her duty to the pack.

Unbeta'd: There might be spilling mistakes ( English is my second language so please be kind)

Authors note: We've made it past the filler chapters. I cant wait for the next chapter. You know when you come up with a whole story just because of one little scene on your head? thats next chapter for me. We'll be making a little time jump.

*Other Authors note at the end*

Chapter 7: I really wish I hated you

You woke up early for your morning jog, excited about your first day having a job.

When you heard Natasha mention she needed extra help at the pub, you didn’t know what possessed you to volunteer, but you were determined to have as much of a normal life as possible and this was your first step.

The air was wet from last night's rain, and the temperature had started to drop enough to require a jacket on your runs.

You finished the run in record time, and got ready for your first day. Thankfully Wanda had given you some of her old clothes, and Natasha was kind enough to let you borrow some of hers or else you would have been in the same worn clothes you'd arrived in. Steve had offered to take you shopping yesterday, but you didn’t feel comfortable with the thought. For 19 years you’d taken care of yourself and your mom, you were strong , and you didnt wanna forget that.

It’s incredible how much you’d let the past weeks change you, you felt out of place, out of mind. But having something for yourself again was once step closer to feeling your old self again.

You finished getting ready, and started coffee for Nat who would be waking up any moment now as her grouchy morning self. Just a few days with her had let you know she wasn’t the friendliest in the morning. You laughed at the mug on the counter that had the words ‘Don’t talk to me till I’ve had my coffee’ in bold letters. It fit her perfectly! Whoever gifted it to her hit the nail in the spot.

Despite not being too familiar with coffee before, it became a comfort to you. You developed a live hate relationship with the liquid, by itself it was the most disgusting thing you’d ever tasted. And you had made tea out of wild mushrooms once, so that was saying a lot. Once Nat introduced you to French vanilla creamer, you’d become addicted to it.

Setting up the two mugs on the counter you prepared your cup, before listening for the footprints coming from down the hallway.

Even with morning hair, and a red face from recently washing. Nat was easily the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. She was all and every one of the main characters in your favorite books.

“Good morning, Nat” you handed her the coffee mug, as she still looked half asleep.

She took a couple of more sips of the liquid before you saw her soul come back into her body. She leaned against the counter while swinging and finishing the contents of her mug.

“Someone’s excited” she said with a small laugh.

“ohhhh really? What gave it away? “ you had finished your coffee, and were just pacing around the kitchen waiting for Nat.

“Well... you’re usually a morning person, but today you’re even more of a morning person than usual.” She set her mug in the sink , and reached for the hair tie in her wrist as she neatly gathered her hair into an effortless ponytail.

“ I don’t know how you do it, but I hope it will rub on me at some point” you both laughed.

You were almost ready to leave when Nat reentered the kitchen with a hairbrush and some pins.

“Nat , if that's your way of saying I need to fix my hair we’re going to be late, I’m sure it’s fine. “

She motioned you to the seat near the counter and you sat down. Trying to protest against Natasha would get you nowhere.

“First of all you’re never late if you own the place” she started slowly brushing the ends of your hair as you relaxed at the gentle massage of the brush.

“Second, you’ve been wearing the same ponytail since I met you. You have a new life, and a new job.” You felt her take a small strand from the front of your hair, and pin it to the back, and the same motion on the other side.

“ My mom always said when you look good, you feel good! And I want you to be a strong confident woman” she put all the products on the counter as she took your face upon her hands.

“ You deserve to be happy and besides… you might bump into anyone in this town. So you better look good” she laughed

“I'm telling you, those old ladies can be mean!” Nat made her best impression of one of them ”back in my day we wouldn't leave the house unkept… no alpha would ever settle for that. I don't know what's with this new generation” she sounded so funny you couldn't help but snort as you broke in laughter.

When you both regained your composure she forms loose strands around your face “ ohhh shit, now we might actually be a little late. Come on!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you arrived at the pub, there was already a white truck in the parking lot. Nat took the keys out of her purse, and tuned the lock. The place certainly looked different without the lights or people, but it still felt cozy to you. Coming from the back was a faint light, and you could hear some thrashing noises. Nat didn’t seem bothered, so she just tuned in the rest of the lights and you flooded her to the kitchen. His smell hit you before he even rounded the corner. He came into the kitchen holding a large box that blocked his view.

“Hey Bucky” you waved at him. Causing him to drop the box. The sound of metal falling as it hit the floor.

You and Nat just stared at bucky's confused gaze. Before Nat cleared her throat.

“I should’ve told you yesterday, but she’ll be starting to work with us. I thought it would be a good idea for her to get to know everyone.”

Bucky bent down to pick the spilled contents of the box, you followed after gathering a few of the metal tools.

“I hope it’s okay with you?” You asked him, not really knowing how he'd respond.

“ Yeah, it’s fine by me” he said with a nervous tone as you handed him the pieces from your hand, and you felt a current run down your spine at the contact of his hand against yours, which he quickly removed.

You all exited the kitchen towards the bar where he placed the box

“I couldn’t sleep last night, so I came over. Thought maybe I could clean the inventory room, but I noticed the beer tap wasn’t working“

“It seemed to be working just fine yesterday, Barnes”

“By just fine, you mean extremely slow pull time? “ he turned to face nat caring the large box out of the room with you both following suit.

“ then it works like a charm ” he made the snarky remark towards Nat, but you couldn’t help to notice his eyes were on you the whole time.

“Fine, but don't break it more” she pointed at him. “ last time you tried to fix something the AC was down for three days”

“And you're never gonna let me forget that wont you?

“Nope” she was already walking away from him as she responded.

“I’ll have it running by opening” he kneeled in front of the small fridge, under the beer tap. .

“Who’s gonna order a beer at 10 in the morning?” You asked, watching over his shoulder as he tweaked with the mechanisms of the fiter on the inside

“ You’d be surprised!” He looked back at you, noticing you already holding the wrench he was looking for.

“Thanks” He smiled, and took the wrench from you. You hadn’t seen him like that in 10 years, he seemed relaxed!

“Howd you learn to do that?” he turned back to face you surprised at your choice of tool.

“ the fridge broke down a couple of times on us, so i learned from taking it apart and back together...after a while you get good at mechanics” you laughed

I still wouldnt trust me to fix it though. Id rather you take the blame if it doesnt work”

“Playing devils advocate now? “ he was flushing water through the hose system before turning on the machine again. You watched attemptively at his concentrating gaze.

“No… id just rather stay on Nat’s good side.”

“Good choice! She punches hard” he seemed relax with you. It made you feel tingly inside as you both had a sense of normality after 10 years.

“Not as hard as me!“ you reapplied

“Definitely not. I still get phantom pains from those” you both laughed.

You patted his shoulder as you got up to Shadow Nat.

Bucky grabbed your arm before you turned to leave. It's nice to see you! … you look... “ he eyed you head to toe and you felt his gaze linger on your hair “ you look beautiful!”

You felt drawn to him, just being around him brought you comfort in a way you couldn’t explain.

You both felt a tug as you left with Nat, turning back to take a glance at him and noticed he had his eyes glued on you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once the rush after lunch was over you were wiping down the tables. You felt the exhaustion of the job begin to take over.

You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but compared to your daily tasks back at the cabin. It was a different kind of exhaustion.

“Don't quit on me just yet” Nat said as she voiced a tray of cups to the back.

“Not yet, but I definitely didn’t know how much people can drink before 3 o’clock” you both laughed as you wiped down the last few of the tables. So far you’d just used the tap, or poured some easy drinks. As the day got slower, Nat promised to train you on some specialty stuff.

You held on to the table as you felt a dizzying feeling deep through you, then you felt a pair of arms behind you.

“Here!” Bucky placed a cup of water in front of you as you eagerly reached for it and frank it entirely in a few gulps.

“Thank you, I should probably start keeping track of how much I owe you every time you rescue me”

You turned back to face him.

“How did you know?”

“ I could feel it through the..” He didn’t have to say it but you knew what he was referring to.

“Ohhh so that’s what that one is” You looked amused as you stared at him.

“I can’t always tell what the bond is trying to say, but I guess being an alpha just makes it easier to interpret ” he was starting to walk away as the words where leaving his mouth

“Is that why you were avoiding me ?” He stopped on his tracks.

“ I wasn’t avoiding you!” He turned to you.

“It kinda seemed like you were.” you stood your ground and placed your hands crossed around your chest in an effort to appear more composed.

“The past weeks I’ve just thought of you, and this bond! “ you pointed at your neck “ I had this voice that kept telling me I wasn’t good enough.”

You felt the pent up feeling of fear, sadness, and frustrations of a few weeks finally leave.

“You know Bucky, I can’t tell what the bond is trying to say, cause I haven’t spent enough time with you to even know how to read you.” You felt the tears stream down your face as the knot on your throat cleared

Bucky walked towards you pulling you into an embrace, just as the tears began to stream down your face. His smell calming you, and his heartbeat merging with yours as he allowed himself to let go of his fear.

“I will always be inclined to take care of you “ he said, burying his head into your hair. While you continued to embrace him.

“Not just because of the bond, but because I loved you more than anything once” you felt your heart stop at his words.

“I thought I hurt you, and I couldn’t forgive myself. But I realized I was running away. That's why I was staying away! “ he lifted your head, and you felt the honesty of his words when you looked into his eyes.

“I missed you ... you know all those years I thought I did something wrong.” You said with choked words.

“ I loved y...”

You both heard the sound of shattering glass. You responded first separating yourself from Bucky and running towards the source. Bucky cursed under his breath, and ran after the source as well.

You walked into the kitchen to see a couple of bottles shattered on the floor. The liquid contents inside spilled all over the floor. You leaned over and started picking up the large pieces of glass.

“You guys alright? “ Nat stormed the kitchen not knowing what she’d find.

“Yeah, we're fine ” Bucky said, examining the room. “We were in the main room, and heard the crash, we thought you were injured”

“Peter must’ve put the bottles on the edge... that boy is going to be the death of me. I'll go get the mop ” you saw Nat had retreated to the pantry.

“Here, let me help you” Bucky was helping you scoop the pieces of glass.

“Careful!” You looked at Bucky and laughed at his worry “ Buck, I’ve been skinning prey with knives shapelier than this since I was 5 ... I think I can handle some glass.”

He was looking at you in awe, you realized after the words had left your mouth “ I haven’t heard you say Buck in a long time” He smiled at you.

“ ohhh that’s cause you used to say it made you think of deer” you were picking up the last pieces.

“ I was a growing boy... always hungry”

He helped you up, and you noticed he used his metal arm to do so.

He noticed you staring, he was wearing a tight black t-shirt. It was short sleeved which you hadn’t seen him wear yet.

“Does it hurt?” You traced your fingers through the cold metal.

“ Not physically, sometimes I forget it’s there” he admired the way your eyes fell fascinated with the metal segments and the mechanism as he flexed.

“Hey, Bucky do you mind cleaning the spill? I’ve got a few minutes, so I’d like to show her some drinks” Nat walked into the kitchen with the industrial mop.

“I got it” he winked at Nat.

He smiled at you as you left the kitchen, and you felt your heart skip a beat at that smile.

You hoped he wasn’t actively trying to spy on you through the bond or else you might be caught in a vulnerable position.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Nat collapsed into the couch at the end of a long day.

“ My feet are killing me! “ you massaged the soles of your feet as you eyed Nat get comfortable on the couch.

“ You get used to it!...ohhh gods I can’t wait to shower”

“You say that, but you’re in fact getting more comfortable ” you teased at her.

“I never said I’d shower right now” She threw one of the pillows next to her at you and just as you were about to return the gesture.

Lights lit up the living room from outside as a car approached.You heard a door shutting and the sound of footsteps approaching the house.

“ I’ll go check it out” you stood up and walked to the door, just as someone was about to knock you opened the door.

“Steve, hey how’s it going? “ you felt the same nerves you felt meeting him the first time.

“ Good... good” you could see his breath as he spoke in the cold of the night. His hands were tucked in his jacket pockets.

“Would you like to go on a walk ?” he motioned to the trail along the house.

“Sure!” You hesitantly stepped out of the comfort of Nat’s house and into the cold night. You were still getting to know Steve, so the ambiance still felt awkward around him. You just followed his lead and waited for his next words.

“ I was wondering how your first day went? ... I wanted to stop by, but Wanda needed me at the school” he faced you as you walked together.

“ It went very well! We had actually just gotten home! “ you were cradling your elbows in a hug trying to preserve your body’s warmth from the house.

“It was a lot to learn, but Nat and Bucky made it a lot easier on me” you replied with a small laugh, but noticed Steve’s eyes glued on you. His jaw tensing up at the mention of Bucky from your mouth.

“That’s good...” he noticed you shiver, he took off his jacket and handed it to you. It was a kind gesture. The jacket just smelled like him. You felt his smell overwhelm the faint traces of Bucky.

“Are you excited?“

“ Well yes ....?it’s been really good so far, I can’t wait to get the hang of it” you picked at the strand of hair surrounding your face tucking it behind your ear.

“So he didn’t tell you?” Steve said with a snark

“Tell me what? “ you felt your heart speed up.

“Bucky made a deal with the Wakandan's Coven... they are going to undo the mating. Next full moon you’ll be free again.”

You could tell he was awaiting a reaction, he just crept closer till you could feel his breath in your skin.

You felt lightheaded at his words “ that’s... news”

You felt tears stream down your eyes. Today things had felt like they were always meant to be. Bucky had made you feel like you could trust him.

But he had known, and you fell for it! Once again you felt like a part of someone else's agenda, not your own. Just an omega, in a world of alphas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note:

Do you think the bottles were an accident?

Tags:@dottirose @tanyaherondale @iloveshawnieboi @marmite79 @austynparksandpizza @nerdgirljen @exposition-belongs-somewhere @patzammit @connie326 @blessedwedgie

#alpha bucky x omega reader #alpha bucky #alpha steve rogers #alpha steve x omega reader #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #omega reader #alpha bucky barnes #alpha steve rogers x omega reader #alpha Bucky barnes x reader

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years

Text

A little written-in-the-middle-of-the-night Loki fic snippet that just grew another leg. TVA Loki + Lokane. Rating T.

(First part is here)

Shine a Light, part II

The tempad feels hot and slippery in his palm as he stalks down the hallway, quickly putting distance between himself and the hunter he left unconscious amidst overturned chairs and tables in the canteen.

The mess had already been there, leftovers from workers rushing panicked to man their stations. He had simply added one more touch.

Tiny droplets of sweat bead his brow and blood has started seeping though the tear in his crumbled shirt.

The fabric is clinging wetly to his bicep, but in the mayhem unfolding around him, nobody gives him a second glance.

For the first time, he is thankful at least to be wearing the anonymous uniform dictated by the oppressors.

He reaches the kill me kind of room again and shuts the door behind him.

You were meant to cause suffering and death.

You’re a cosmic mistake.

You were meant to die at the hands of the mad titan.

Lies.

All lies.

Still projected on the wall is the paused image of a lost memory of his unfulfilled fate.

He sees himself, Thor and her on the barren planet with the black soil. The man he never became is lying on the ground, Thor cradling him.

She watches them both in shock.

It resonates in his bones. He has to go there.

He has to reach his brother at this precise, excruciatingly rare moment of heroism. His act of heroism.

Before the scheming and deceit poison their bond once more in an endless loop of disappointment.

In this moment, all is forgiven. Thor will listen and help. A different path will branch.

And he has to go to her.

It is ludicrous, this riddle, yet the truth of it presses hard on his chest.

On the grainy roll of film, he saved her life and her eyes bore into his with such intensity, his acute need still reverberates like an echo between the walls of the kill me kind of room.

The smell of lilacs lingers.

What will happen when he faces his own self on the timeline, he can’t imagine. Also, he gives it little thought at this late stage with universal logic already suspended as it is. Hopefully he can reason with the man he was meant to be.

He has had quite enough of being his own past, present and future selves’ worst enemy.

And so he pushes the buttons on the tempad.

Something is very wrong.

The sky is too blue, the distant sound of waves lapping calmly at a shore is misplaced.

He has emerged from the door onto a quiet gravel road lined with tall grass and low pines. A single, white wooden house stands to his left, surrounded by a lawn dotted with wildflowers. The sun is warm on his back.

This is Midgard, he is sure of it.

How could he shoot past his destination so spectacularly?

He is about to scroll down the list of numbers and names on the tiny screen of the tempad when he notices a man approaching. Old, walking leisurely with a round, short-legged dog much the same white color as the mortal’s own wispy hair.

The latter starts a little when he spots Loki.

And then he does the most unexpected thing and speaks his name.

Loki’s name.

He almost drops the tempad (no! Not again) and the old one grins good-naturedly. “Hold on to your fancy phone there. Far away, were we?”

Loki only just about stops himself from shaking the man by his shoulders. His fists clench uncontrollably.

“What year is this?! How do you know my name?”

His voice sounds shrill, feverish, and unsurprisingly the eyes in the lined face before him go wide with puzzlement and … something else.

“Loki, what on Earth? Are you quite alright?”

Shock washing over him, Loki staggers back. H-how?

But the man is closing the gap between them, oozing concern. “Have you - are you drunk?” he asks incredulously.

He reaches out.

What is happening?

Loki shies away from the touch, his mind spinning.

Forcibly gathering his composure, he straightens and wills his words to come out steady. “No, I’m okay. Apologies. A bad joke”.

He smiles reassuringly. It takes more effort than parting an ocean.

The dog is sniffing insistently at his ankles.

The man looks him over with suspicion but the worry is subsiding. “Okay, then… no harm, no foul. You know, sometimes these peculiar ‘jokes’ of yours can make a neighbor all kinds of slightly worried”.

Neighbor?

“Most understandably, won’t happen again. Sorry to have bothered you”. Loki cuts him off smoothly. “Have a nice day”. He nods and turns before hysteria can creep into his voice.

“In case you need it for your punchline, the year is 2016”, the man calls over his shoulder as he shuffles away, pulling the reluctant dog after him.

Loki’s blood runs cold. 2016. Oh, this is so wrong. Three years wrong.

Did he hit another button at the last minute? He had been clutching the tempad so hard the edges cut into his fingers.

He curses his own impatience. Tech savvy indeed.

Holding up the blasted piece of TVA wizardry, he tries to enter a new series of numbers when his name rings out again.

And again, he almost jumps. But this time, his heart stays in his throat.

“Loki? What are you doing out here? I’ve been looking all over for you”.

Her voice reaches him from the porch of the white house. She is skipping lightly down the steps, the screen doors left open behind her. Music drifts into the garden from somewhere inside.

She is crossing the lawn. He is no longer breathing.

Her long auburn hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she is wearing a light blue summer dress. Her feet are bare.

Absurdly, he notes that she looks more tanned than the last time he saw her through the visor of the destroyer in the desert. A year and a lifetime ago. To him.

His grip on whatever reality he’s been clinging to since New York is seriously faltering.

She is beaming. He cannot move a muscle.

She comes all the way up to him and without pause wraps her slender arms around his neck. He can feel the warmth of her body through his shirt, smell the perfume of her skin. She smells of … -

“Where did you go, handsome?” She smiles playfully.

“Pepper called earlier to say that she actually got Tony out of the door on time, if you can believe it, so they’ll be here any minute. And her and I agreed that you two hotheads are going to play nice tonight, okay?”

She is teasing him but he hardly understands the words she’s saying. It makes no sense.

And then, before he can begin to form a response, she stands on tiptoes and kisses him and the world falls away.

Reflexively, he puts his arms around her, drawing her close to him. She moans happily. He leans into the kiss, not knowing what he’s doing other than that he never wants to stop.

Her mouth is soft and warm and new and familiar all at the same time, and the way her fingers curl in his hair sends electricity shooting down his spine.

It should be all anguish and tragic confusion, like before in the castle beyond time, but it is not.

It feels more right that anything he can remember since before his fall from the Bifrost, more real and yet more magical than his recent journeys into mystery.

Then it’s over all too soon and she draws away.

His arms are suddenly much too empty and he almost reaches for her again, craving her touch.

For a fleeting heartbeat, his soul had no longer felt torn apart to the point of forgetting he’d ever been whole.

The chaos had crumbled in on itself like a bad dream.

He is surprised he still knows what peace of mind feels like after what has happened to him since arriving at the TVA.

But now she looks at him with alarm in those beautiful brown eyes and he is crudely reminded that he is an intruder in her reality.

What she thought she saw, she clearly no longer recognizes.

It takes him all of three stupidly long seconds to remember that she said his name. That he’s wearing his own face and not a disguise.

That she knew him immediately, just like the old man.

She kissed him.

Too many impossible possibilities and the thunderous sound of his own heartbeat (surely she can hear it too) blur his vision.

He’s only vaguely aware that he is stepping towards her, trying to say something without the faintest idea of what’s going to come out of his mouth.

If it’ll even be words.

Her eyes dart over his clothes, his face.

“Loki, what - Why are you dressed like that? Have you been gone? Is that … blood?”

She retreats further, fear building.

“Jane, I-“

Her name rolls of his tongue with a sweet-tasting intimacy like he has said it a thousand times before.

But he doesn’t get to dwell on this, nor gather his thoughts to say anything else before something abruptly lifts him off the ground and hurls his body across the road.

“How dare you touch her, beast?!”

Immediately as his back connects with the rough gravel, someone is there, a knee pushing him down, fingers closing around his throat. A sharp object presses against his chin.

There is a dangerous, unhinged growl as his attacker breathes hotly in his ear. “You will die for this!”

The man is strong and somehow blocking Loki’s own magic, but he still manages to twist his head -

And looks right up into his own eyes, nearly black with rage.

“Speak! What are you??”

The man with a face exactly like his presses the tip of his blade closer to Loki’s left eye. “You will show yourself right now or -“

Gathering his magic tightly around him (focus!), Loki pushes back, hard.

With a surge of energy, their bodies are separated, and the other version of him lands heavily in the middle of the road some meters away.

Both of them are on their feet with the fluid movements of two panthers ready to pounce, the other now in full armor.

He has to leave, right now, even if means leaving her which is a catastrophe that might either kill him or make him try to kill his other self if he stays here another minute.

This timeline is clearly not his own.

It cannot be.

Arm outstretched to ward off his furious twin with a shield of magic, he tries to work the tempad with one hand.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

A booming voice above their heads.

“You know, when Jane pressed the panic button just now, I thought we had an actual emergency. Not that you were preparing a little dinner show for us, Reindeer Games. Gotta be honest though, this doppelgänger stunt was never my favorite -“

“Stark!”

The variant - for he must be a variant - angrily interrupts the man in the metal suit hovering in the air.

Of course, Loki remembers him all too clearly.

What has it been, less than a week since he threw him, or a version of him, out the window of the glass tower?

“This is not my creation”, the variant hisses with venom dripping from every word. “I caught him assaulting Jane. Kissing her”.

“What?!”

Stark focuses all his attention (and one of his iron fists) on Loki. A metallic humming rises steadily from inside the suit.

“A man on a suicide mission then. Boy, did you smooch the wrong wizard’s baby-mama. He may look all domesticated and cute now, but I assure you he’s still all kinds of crazy. In fact-”.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I know it’s asking a lot, of you in particular, Stark, but could we possibly save the personal insults till we have dealt with this right here?”

Wait, just wait.

Damn it, he can’t tap in the destination on the tempad without looking at it.

Green smoke is swirling around the hands of his other self. He knows what’s coming.

“This is your last warning, devil! I will not have you hiding behind my face as I -“

“This is my face! I’m you, you fool! Bigger things are at large here and-“ Loki falters, his silver tongue failing once more with rising predictability within what seems a disconcertingly short period of time.

Although he honestly can’t tell anymore.

“Please, take a minute -“

He can’t help but shout, sounding hopelessly desperate.

In another life, he might have felt humiliated, but letting pride dictate his emotions is no longer a luxury he can afford to indulge.

Still, the silence that follows his outburst is not nearly as long as he needs it to be.

The variant stares blankly at him, mouth slightly ajar, but Stark recovers easily, his voice now icy.

“Yeah, dude, that one might have worked better if you’d put on a clean shirt. Time to fess up real quick or we’ll have to-“

Drawing what might become his last breath, Loki looks away and down at the tempad. He presses the button. No more time to double check.

“What the?!”

Both Stark and the variant visibly flinch as the door appears.

He quickly makes for it. “I - I’m sorry. Truly, I am”. He looks to their stunned faces before turning to his exit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he registers the variant move (he has to be a variant). His mouth twists in an ugly snarl and two familiar daggers are appearing by his sides.

Before the door snaps completely shut, Loki sees Jane run up to the man and grab his arm.

“Love, no, don’t!”

He sees the slight bump under her dress that he didn’t notice before.

And then the scene disappears and he’s gone.

Part III

#loki #loki series #tva loki #loki laufeyson #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #lokane #jane foster #loki x jane #loki fic

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maddiewritesstucky · 3 years

Text

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Stripper Bucky / Architect Steve

Words: 3790

Tags: Sexy shower antics, post-exercise endorphin highs, Steve is a badass for like 10 minutes, Bucky is not a morning person (until he suddenly is), enthusiastic morning sex

A follow-up one-shot to the slow death of Steve Rogers. Many thanks to my radiant cassowary @kalee60 for giving it your clever eyes. Infinite birdseed for you 😘

(Also on Ao3)

When Bucky wakes up, he is aware of two things, and two things only.

One - it’s way too fucking early for his eyelids to have peeled themselves back the way they have, if the rosy tint of the sky outside is anything to go by, and two - his foot should have connected with some part of Steve’s anatomy by now on it’s customary post-waking stretch across the mattress.

His body is coming online one limb at a time, and he grunts his displeasure into the rumpled sheets; gaze firmly averted from the clock on the bedside table. Putting a number to it will only make him angry, and the stupid beautiful soft dawn light filling the bedroom tells him everything he needs to know anyway.

Why they had decided to move into Steve’s apartment when Bucky’s actually had things like properly functioning curtains, he has no idea.

"Steve,” he groans, voice thick with the remnants of sleep and the injustice of waking before he intended to.

He kicks his foot out a little further; throws an arm out to join the search party too, but finds Steve’s side of the bed decidedly more vacant than it had been when he fell asleep last night.

Running, some vaguely helpful part of Bucky’s subconscious supplies, you fell for a man who goes running at bastard o’clock in the morning.

He flops over onto his back and scrubs his hands up over his face; up through the tangled mess of hair that seems to find new ways of defying its scrunchie-prison every night. His vision sharpens into focus and sticks a moment on the giant canvas print photo of himself and Steve smiling back at him from the far wall; a grinning relic of a Bucky who was not woken before his time.

It still makes his stomach flip a little, that picture - the two of them stuffed into the heavy-knit sweaters Bucky’s ma had made them last Christmas; both in the throes of losing their shit over the comically absurd miscalculation she’d made on size. Steve’s got tears in his eyes, and Bucky’s aren’t even open, and they’re clinging to each other with that special kind of desperation that intense, prolonged laughter seems to spawn.

It’s everything good about their life together, that photo; the sheer warmth and joy they’ve found in one another over the past year, the sense of home and family and right.

It’s even more heartwarming, Bucky finds, when the sun is a reasonable distance above the horizon.

He drags his protesting body out of its sleep-warmed cocoon, his intentions set on the brand new bag of espresso grind that Last-Night Bucky had so wisely left sitting on the kitchen counter.

He’s going to use Steve’s favorite mug, the one he’d happened across in a yard sale that reads ‘architects do it on drafting tables’ with a lewd stick figure drawing. Partially because it holds the most coffee, and partially because if Steve had remained in bed this morning, with all his familiar warmth and dependable big-spoon behavior, Bucky would have remained blissfully unconscious until his alarm went off.

...Steve’s not here to actually see this particular middle-finger of a gesture, but that’s beside the point. Bucky will know.

It’s not until he’s shuffling his way down the hall, already two steps past the closed bathroom door, that Bucky registers the faint sounds of water hitting tile, and the sporadic, off-key hum of a post-run Steve.

His feet halt in their tracks before he’s even made the conscious decision that coffee can wait.

He wants to keep walking, to get his precious cup of bean nectar and crawl back into bed for another hour or three, it’s just...

Post-run Steve is kind of Bucky’s jam.

He’s sweaty, and loose-limbed, and hopped up on exercise endorphins which, more often than not, make him inexplicably horny and give him the closest approximation of a bad boy complex that someone with Steve’s demeanor could possibly get.

Post-run Steve is the only good thing about being awake at this god forsaken hour.

The sunrise, and the stillness, and the smell of fresh dew can get fucked, but Bucky will carpe the hell out of a diem for some Post-run Steve.

He slips quietly into the bathroom, and is immediately grateful for the time he spent descaling the shower door yesterday when he’s met with an unimpeded view of Steve’s glorious back. What goddamn right an architect has looking like that, Bucky has no idea, but you wanna talk about some aesthetically pleasing angles?

Steve’s got one hand braced against the wall, head dipped to draw out the line of his back. His skin’s a little flushed; water channeling in fast-flowing rivulets between the soft ridges and swells of his drawn-taut muscles, and he’s breathing those quiet grunts of the recently-exerted.

He’s a living, breathing thirst-trap, and the knowledge that he’d only blush and change the subject if Bucky told him so just makes it a thousand times better.

Bucky pushes his soft flannel sleep pants off his hips and lets them fall to the floor, sending up another silent salute to Last-Night Bucky for going commando, and steps forward to pull open the shower door.

...Later on, when Bucky is reflecting on it all, he’ll blame the early hour and his pre-caffeinated state for the fact that he didn’t realise. The soft noises falling from Steve’s lips, the very particular bunch and flex of very particular muscles…

Any other time of day, Bucky would have known straight away.

Any other time of day, and Bucky wouldn’t have even needed to be in the same room - he could be at the bodega down the street, and his nipples would inexplicably harden at the pluck of Steve’s distant arousal on the cosmic spiderweb.

But as it happens in the moment, it’s not until Steve’s head is falling back on a low moan that Bucky realizes exactly what it is he’s walked in on.

“Oh, shit...”

It’s off his tongue before he can reel it back in, and Steve almost jumps out of his skin.

His head whips around, and for the briefest flicker of a moment, he looks shocked and uncertain and embarrassed as all hell.

But this right here is no weekday-afternoon Steve. This is not the blushing, bumbling hunk of love meee that occupies the corporeal form of Steve Rogers 95% of the time.

No, this is Post-run Steve, and it’s all of about two seconds before he’s schooling his features into something more akin to vaguely-smirking indifference; turning until he’s facing Bucky front on, and settling his weight back against the shower wall.

“Babe, I’m sorry, I didn’t--” Bucky begins, as close to apologetic as one can really be about seeing their significant other in a compromising yet Very Sexy position. But the words dry up on his lips as Steve lifts a finger to his own in the universal gesture of ‘shush.’

He watches, rapt, as Steve first reaches over to the tap and shuts off the water, and then takes up the bottle of Bucky’s conditioner, squirting some into his hand before wrapping it back around his cock.

And then that jacked-up idiot, that neuro-chemical flooded pseudo bad bitch, looks Bucky dead in the eye...and goes right back to jerking off.

He’s putting on a goddamn show with it too - pulling at his cock, long and slow and tight; dropping his head back against the wall and letting his moans ricochet shamelessly off the tile. The sound of his fist working over his dick is lewd as hell, so much more audible for the fact that there’s no rush of running water to mask it anymore, and Bucky wonders briefly if he ever actually woke up at all, if this isn’t just all a very believable wet dream.

It certainly contains all the usual elements - intense eye contact; a big fat dick getting rubbed off by a beefy, naked, wet dude (bonus that it’s Bucky’s actual, real-life boyfriend); the kinds of sounds you usually only hear in porn…

For all Bucky knows, he could still be tucked up in bed asleep, and not standing here naked and painfully erect in this steamed up bathroom, watching his boyfriend jack it like he’s starring in some locker-room porno.

“You need somethin’, or you just come in here to watch?” Steve drawls, arching a brow at him, and yeah - there’s a lot of things Bucky needs all of a sudden.

He rakes an assessing gaze over Steve’s body, stepping into the shower and pressing his palms to the swell of Steve’s pecs.

“I just wanted to make sure your run went okay,” he shrugs, “no pulled tendons, shin splints...aching muscles…that kinda thing.”

He squeezes at Steve’s shoulders and his biceps and his tiny waist; threads his hands up through Steve’s hair and slots a thigh between Steve’s to push their hips together.

Steve’s skin is so warm, and slippery, and he smells like soap, and Bucky starts mentally calculating just how much time they have and how much energy he can feasibly expend before their respective work days start.

He’s not on stage tonight, but he is on shift for his day job at the community center, teaching a preschool ballet class at 10am, and then a seniors ballroom dancing session at midday before his contemporary classes in the afternoon. Steve’s working from home today, so hypothetically it wouldn’t matter if Bucky wore him out a little…

“Buck...”

“Mm?”

He rubs his whole self shamelessly against Steve, pressing in so the barbells spiked through his nipples drag across the wet expanse of Steve’s chest. He kisses Steve’s neck and his tits and his mouth, hungry and handsy and a little frantic, and Steve laughs softly against his lips as he turns them to push Bucky up against the slick tile of the shower wall.

“Your concern is deeply moving,” he deadpans, caging Bucky in with hands planted either side of his head, “but I think we need to talk about your bathroom etiquette...didn’t anybody ever teach you to knock?”

He’s staring Bucky down with eyes lit up something wicked; his body so very nearly touching Bucky’s but not quite, and it hits Bucky all over again that his boyfriend is, physically speaking...really fucking imposing.

It’s easy to forget, when he’s being...well, Steve. Perpetually polite, kind-hearted, goofy...Bucky feels like when he looks at Steve, he sees the softness of his nature, the quiet goodness that radiates out of him.

He sees the sensible shoes and the khaki pants, the careful artist hands and the way Steve still sometimes carries himself like the much-smaller man he claims to have once been.

He’s Stevie, and Bucky wouldn’t have him any other way.

But all of that also happens to be contained within a 6’2”, 200lb frame, and right now...Bucky kind of wants to suffocate under it.

“I am so sorry, Steven,” he says, though it’s entirely negated by the raging hard on he’s sporting and the giddy, gratuitous manner in which he’s still feeling Steve up.

He skates his fingertips down the rippled plain of Steve’s stomach, down to the trail of dusky blond hair leading south from his belly button, but Steve catches his hands and pins them up above his head.

“I’m sure you are,” Steve hums, “but I don’t think you appreciate the gravity of the situation here. See, you caught me in a very private moment, one that I was very much enjoying, and now I’m all thrown off. You got me feelin’ shy.”

...There’s some very compelling evidence to the contrary rubbing up against Bucky’s hip right now, but that’s beside the point. Steve’s teeth are scraping a line all the way down Bucky’s neck to nip at the ice fractals tattooed across his shoulder, and Bucky’s more than willing to play along.

“However can I make it up to you?”

He arches into the press of Steve’s body, the hard line of Steve’s cock nestled into the crease of his hip.

If Steve shifted just slightly, he’d be rubbing up against Bucky’s dick.

It’s not an accident that Steve isn’t making that shift.

“You really want to?” Steve kisses the question against his skin, making his way slowly back up to Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky nods vehemently.

He’s already wetting his lips in preparation for all the ‘making up’ they’re about to do; signalling his knees to get ready to bend and pulling at Steve’s grip on his wrists, but Steve doesn’t release him.

Instead, he pulls back just far enough to look Bucky square in the eye, and smiles entirely too sweet for the authoritative edge that rumbles into his voice. “Go back to bed, Bucky.”

Bucky has to blink a few times as the words circulate in his ears. His expression turns from I’m about to get some D! to oh god I’m being denied the D in about 0.2 seconds flat.

Bed is very far away from the dick that is currently in need of reparations, he can’t achieve anything from bed.

“But—you said—I was gonna—”

“Go. back. to bed.” Steve tightens his grip on Bucky’s wrists and leans his whole weight against him, right up in his space so his lips catch against Bucky’s as he speaks, “...and wait for me.”

Oh.

A big, stupid, ‘bout-to-get-railed grin stretches across Bucky’s face. He wriggles free of Steve’s grasp and stumbles out of the shower, stopping himself just shy of a wildly enthusiastic ‘yes sir!’

He thinks he can hear Steve’s laughter as he takes off back down the hall toward the bedroom, but it might just be his own echoing back to him. He throws himself down onto the unmade bed, still warm from when he got up not ten minutes ago, and honestly who needs to sleep in anyway? Sleeping in is for people who don’t have absolute poundcake boyfriends to screw them into the sunrise.

He should have toweled off, he realizes as his damp skin rubs against the bedding, but he cannot be blamed for life choices made before six am, and there are far more important things afoot anyway.

Things like the sound of the shower turning back on for approximately forty-five seconds, then the muted pass of a towel being scrubbed over hair, and footsteps on the hardwood growing ever closer to the bedroom.

God, this is gonna be a good day. What a beautiful day to be greeting the dawn, making the most of his youth, seizing everything life throws at him!

He has the good sense to snatch the lube out of the bedside drawer just as Steve walks into the room, eyeing him with amusement and hunger in equal measures.

“You know what the problem is, with what just happened back there, Buck?”

Steve saunters toward the bed with all the nonchalance of a man whose work day doesn’t start for another three hours.

He wraps his sizable hands around Bucky’s ankles and yanks him down the bed a little - for no other purpose than to hear Bucky’s breath hitch at the unnecessary show of strength - and climbs up onto the mattress to straddle Bucky’s shins.

“The problem is, I don’t like to make a spectacle of myself.” He plucks the lube from Bucky’s hand and pours some into his own, spreading it over his cock in lazy pulls. “Being the center of attention, having eyes on me...that’s more your speed.”

“Mhmm, yes, I am an attention whore,” Bucky nods, reaching grabby hands out at Steve who refuses to shift any further up his body, “and you are humble and handsome and have a big dick. Make out with me.”

Steve tuts and shakes his head, reaching his unoccupied hand to flick at one of Bucky’s nipple piercings.

“Oh, I don’t think you get to make requests right now. See, the worst part of you throwin’ me off back there? I was so fucking close. So now what you get to do, James, is flip the fuck over, and let me finish what I started.”

...Jesus, Bucky loves Post-run Steve.

He’s gonna marry Post-run Steve and have his hopped up little post-run babies, and make sure Steve never misses a single day of early morning exercise so he can bask in the glory of this magnificent bastard every goddamn day of his life.

Bucky flops over onto his front and gets his knees under himself, sticking his ass up in the air with a wiggle that’s probably a lot more comical than it is enticing. But the heat of Steve’s palms hook around the front of his thighs and pull them out from under him, sprawling him flat against the mattress.

There’s a sudden clamping of teeth on his ass cheek and the sharp swat of an open palm, and then Bucky’s being pressed firmly into the sheets by Steve’s weight settling high up on the backs of his thighs.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Steve sighs, planting his hands on the dip in Bucky’s spine, “I’m gonna use your ass to get off, and then I’m going to get back into bed, while you go make us some coffee.”

Bucky nods into the mess of blankets under his cheek, futilely trying to rock his hips up against Steve’s considerable weight. “Yes, agreed, punishment fits the cri-hi wow okay.”

A wholly undignified sound is wrenched from Bucky’s chest as Steve skips all pretense of tease, and thrusts his slicked up cock into the crease of Bucky’s ass, rubbing off between his cheeks with a very singular purpose.

Bucky scrabbles to grab hold of his pillow and drags it down, wedging it under his hips with as much success as can be expected when you’re being pinned by a 200lb adrenaline-testosterone cocktail. It’s enough though, to very favorably cushion the rub of his dick, and all things considered…this whole thing is working out pretty well for him.

He’s expending precisely zero effort, but the wet glide of Steve’s cock over his hole and the push of Steve’s hips rubbing him into the pillow is very much Doing It for him, and he lets his body go loose and pliant as Steve does all the work for the both of them.

And Steve is putting in work - rocking Bucky into the mattress with a fervor that knocks the breath out of him and sends the headboard careening rhythmically into the wall.

“Y’hear that, Buck?” Steve pants, not for a second breaking his frankly devastating pace. “That’s what a fuckin’ knock sounds like.”

“Oh my god.”

This is exactly how every single day of Bucky’s life should begin. Naked, giddy, cocks enthusiastically rubbing up against holes, and Steve running his mouth like he won’t be turning ten shades of red about it later.

If this is the payoff, Bucky will bust in on every single shower Steve has for the rest of his life.

“I love you,” he laughs a little breathlessly into the bedding, biting off a moan at the heat coiling low in his belly.

It’s entirely sincere, and he says it because he means it...but if he also happens to know by now that those words are a direct hit to Steve’s prostate during sex?

That’s just a happy coincidence.

Steve makes a sound like he’s been punched, his thighs twitching and tensing where they’re clamped around Bucky’s hips.

His breaths are coming sharp and shallow, his movements taking on a frantic edge that betrays exactly how close he is, and Bucky would ask him to slow down, except he really, really doesn’t want him to.

“I love you, Stevie,” he says again, letting his own building climax bleed into his voice, “love you so much...come on, baby...”

“Fuck, Bucky, I...oh...”

His weight falls forward over Bucky as he comes, and it’s all the shove Bucky needs to tip over the edge with him.

He spills all over his pillow, burying a moan into the sheets and huffing under the weight of Steve’s body going lax on top of him.

“Oh my god, Buck,” Steve groans, vaguely awed like it wasn’t his own efforts that just brought them both to sticky ruin, and Bucky reaches a hand back to swat weakly at him.

“You said it, pal.”

Steve nuzzles into the crook of his neck, planting breathless kisses against his skin and running his hands over every part of Bucky he can reach.

It’s so tangible, that shift back to normalcy, back to Steve. It always hits Bucky square in the chest, the way he can feel Steve’s edges softening, feel that boisterous energy turn sweet and mellow in the aftermath.

It’s kind of precious, actually, though Bucky would never phrase it like that to Steve’s face.

He squirms beneath Steve’s weight, getting himself turned over until he’s on his back beneath him. “Good morning,” he smiles up at Steve softly, running his fingers through the still-damp tufts of his hair.

Steve sighs happily, letting his eyes drift shut and tilting his head into Bucky’s hand. “Good morning, pervert.”

“Hey, come on, you know I didn't do that on purpose! ” Bucky laughs, cupping Steve’s face and kissing him all over his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes, though the smile on his face says Bucky’s doesn’t really have anything to be sorry about. “Guess I can forgive you this one time.”

“You’re a gracious man.”

Bucky drags him down and kisses him right on his smile, sweet and lazy. When they pull apart, Steve’s got that dopey look on his face like he’s feeling a whole lot of something, and Bucky knows exactly what’s coming before Steve says it.

“Glad you love me, Bucky Barnes.”

...He knew it was coming, but it still gets him every time.

“Glad to love you, Steve Rogers.” He feels like he’s glowing a little as he leans up to peck Steve on the tip of his nose. “Now if I’m not mistaken, I owe you a cup of coffee...you’re gonna have to let me up if you want me to follow through on that.”

“Mm, counter offer - we both go wash off, together, and then I’ll make us breakfast while you handle the coffee?”

Bucky pretends to consider for a second before he nods, stretching his body out as Steve rolls his weight off him.

“Agreed.” He waves a hand in the general direction of the door, shooting Steve a wink and a lopsided grin. “Lead the way, pal. I believe you are intimately familiar with where the shower is.”

#stucky fanfic #stucky au #steve/bucky #stripper!bucky #architect!steve #pwp #sexy shower antics #Post-run Steve can get it

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owl-with-a-pen · 3 years

Note

Prompt where Nia Falling asleep in one of brainys shirts? I love those special couple moments

- Oh anon, I'm sorry for making this sadder than it could have been. But thank you for the prompt! x

It was weird, not having Brainy there at night.

The daytime was always filled with so much action. If Nia wasn’t getting nagged by Andrea for a new angle on a story, she was out on patrol as Dreamer, or helping confront their latest enemy with the rest of the Super Friends. At that point, without fail, she would always fall into step with Brainy at her side, but with how busy they’d both been recently, it was still far too easy to find themselves apart from one another for whole days at a time.

The nights, though? That was another story entirely.

Since Leviathan’s ship, Nia couldn’t remember a single night that she hadn’t fallen asleep with Brainy laid right next to her.

With him there, things just felt better. She didn’t worry about getting woken by nightmares, because if she was, Brainy would be there to help her through them. She knew he didn’t sleep all that much, but even at times when she had pulled him from the small portion of the night he did reserve for proper rest, he never seemed to mind. If she was in any sort of distress, even if she tried to assure Brainy otherwise, he’d always see through her act. He never made her feel ashamed of the lack of control her nightmares exposed her to; instead, he was only eager to help her learn from every one. So, they’d talk it out if she had the energy to do so. If not, Brainy would assume his role as her makeshift pillow, letting her snuggle in close, falling back asleep to the gentle motions of his fingers entwined in her hair.

There were times Brainy would wake from nightmares, too, and although he was still cagey about a lot of them, their promise to be honest with one another had given him the confidence to confide some of his own insecurities over time.

In that way, the night was reserved for the one time they could each find total peace of mind. A reprieve from the stresses of their crazy lives. A chance to share the quiet comfort of each other’s company.

Except, right now, she couldn’t. Right now, Brainy was out in space somewhere, travelling all the way to Argo to take Zor-El home, leaving his side of the bed unwelcomingly cold.

Nia knew Brainy was a confident flyer outside of spacetime co-ordination, but the wound of her Phantom nightmare was still fresh. Any time she thought of Brainy on a ship, she only remembered the breach in the Tower’s shields, could see the hole that had torn right through the ship’s hull, pulling Brainy out into the vacuum of space.

Her throat still felt raw from that memory. Every time she swallowed, she could taste it, the persistent burn of old tears agitating at the back of her mouth. The ache inside her chest where her disembodied screams had mangled every muscle.

And so, when Nia climbed into bed that night, tucking her arm beneath the pillows to get comfortable, she tried to imagine that Brainy was there at her side. She tried to picture what she might have told him if he had been.

Was she ready to tell him about her nightmare? He’d known something was up with her the second they’d been knocked out of their respective visions on the ship. He hadn’t exactly been subtle about the way he’d been checking in on her since then, but he’d yet to say it out loud. In her heart, Nia knew that Brainy was waiting for her to feel ready to share.

In all honestly, she wasn’t so sure she was. Losing Brainy like that had only reminded her of everything she’d lost for real. Though she’d been able to cling onto Brainy the moment her nightmare had dissolved, there was someone else that she’d never be able to hold that way again.

Nia didn’t want to look at the photo on her nightstand again, instead keeping herself turned adamantly away from it. She’d thought she was past this part, the sick and empty feeling in the pit of her stomach any time someone mentioned their own mom, the tightness in her lungs when she chanced a glance at her mother’s image. It had taken her months to build the courage to wade through the photos she had of her mother, and longer still to use one as her screen saver.

Up until recently, seeing that image had finally started to make her feel strong again.

But, then that trip to 2009 had happened, and god, maybe it had just been a recorded message, but it didn’t matter. It was a string of words that Nia hadn’t been able to find on any videos or VCR tapes. A voice that might not have been directed at her, but could’ve still been directed at anyone.

And that had been enough to break her all over again.

She knew Brainy wouldn’t judge her, but despite the words of wisdom and comfort he’d imparted on her over the last few months, she knew that he was still afraid he couldn’t give her enough, that the grossly distant relationship he had with his own mother might make him an ineffectual counsel. To Nia, though? She couldn't imagine going through this without him.

She didn’t think she had the energy to talk about it, anyway. All she really wanted was to feel Brainy’s arms around her, the heat of his life projectors thrumming through the fabric of his shirt, warming her chest.

Nia sighed dejectedly, snuggling further into the pillow, catching remnants of Brainy’s scent on the cotton.

Which was when her hand snagged against something familiar.

Nia’s lips twitched into a smile as she pulled out one of Brainy’s Bon Jovi shirts he’d made habit of sleeping in from beneath his pillow. Meticulously folded, of course, as though ready to display in a store. She nearly rolled her eyes.

She was pretty certain his shirt hadn’t been there that morning. In fact, she knew that Brainy wouldn’t normally keep his clothes anywhere but in the hamper or in her chest of drawers. Nia bit her lip, thinking back to earlier that evening when Brainy had gone into the bedroom, insisting he’d needed to ‘grab a few things’ before he left for the trip.

A warmth blossomed inside her chest. Oh, he’d definitely left it for her. A parting gift, in a way.

Maybe he hadn’t wanted to ask her until she was ready, but that didn’t mean he’d felt comfortable leaving her alone so soon after everything that had transpired.

Nia had certainly stolen Brainy’s shirts to sleep in before, and although that feeling of being wrapped inside a significantly oversized garment was always better than sleeping in her own PJ’s, this gesture felt far more personal than any before it.

Which was why Nia spent no time at all shrugging out of her own pyjama shirt in favour of Brainy’s. She tucked her knees into her chest the second she was comfortable, pulling the shirt down around as much of her as possible, breathing in the scent of his shampoo still ingrained in the fabric.

Nia curled tight into her side, bunching the shirt beneath her fingers, squeezing it tight.

Maybe Brainy couldn’t be with her tonight, but even faced with the darkest visions the Naltorian dreamscape had to offer, at least she had a piece of him that she could still hold onto.

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #brainia #nia nal #brainiac 5 #querl dox #brainy #supergirl 6x09 #my writing #my prompts #anon #i hope that the cute and sad balances out here #also i hope it's okay in general lol it's 2am and i'm riding out some vaccine side effects #hope you enjoy! i'm going to bed now 😅

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paradife-loft · 3 years

Note

three sentences of jiang cheng and jin guangyao's co-parenting adventures :)

(“three sentences”. yeah, well, there sure are three sentences here. and then a bunch more sentences. I guess you could consider the extra sentences like interest for the wait time? :’D I don’t know what I’m doing with myself any more. oh well, I hope the disaster grape pov is enjoyable (’:)

-----

Even though it would’ve been perfectly acceptable to receive Clan Leader Jin at the gates to Lotus Pier proper, Jiang Cheng had decided today to take advantage of the lack of other guests arriving at all hours to meet Lianfang-zun and their nephew down at the docks in the town, instead.

He doesn’t have to wait long; the boat carrying the Jin clan retainers comes into sight on the river within a quarter shichen, and is soon unloading a stream of pale gold out into the lakefront market stalls. Lianfang-zun is one of the last out onto the pier, but Jin Ling rushes past much quicker – the child clambering out through the benches and onto the dock, then turning back to peer in over the railing. He calls an impatient “xiao-shushu!” into the boat, trying to wave him further along without letting go of the ornate, adult-sized sword he held clasped in both hands.

A moment later, he’s apparently given up waiting for his other uncle and flung himself toward Jiang Cheng instead, skidding to a halt and almost overbalancing a few feet in front of him, where he then nods into a perfunctory bow that’s maimed from the start by the way he keeps the sword hugged to his chest. “Uncle Jiang-zongzhu.”

Jiang Cheng feels a small stone at the pit of his stomach, remembering how last time it had simply been jiujiu (when they were in private, he reminds himself, just the three of them that were his remaining family, without all the rest of these disciples and townspeople around) – but he nods anyway, eyeing the sword. Jin Ling scurries around to his side, and Jiang Cheng drops an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in tightly.

It’s a familiar sword, moreso in its spiritual aura than the profile of the hilt and sheath which runs toward the sort of Jin gaudiness whose distinctions he’s never made a particularly intent study of – oh. He understands, abruptly, why Jin Ling must be clinging to it so tightly.

He glances up to where Lianfang-zun is finally emerging from the boat, holding the train of his robe up in one hand and the proffered arm of a Jin disciple in the other. Throughout the elegance of his arrival, he seems to spare a few soft glances at Jin Ling – until he straightens up on flat ground, and the expression melts off his face with a keen fleck of his eyes up toward Jiang Cheng.

“Xiandu.”

“Jiang-zongzhu.” His greeting is effortless and graceful in all the ways Jin Ling’s was not; and afterwards, his mouth quirks in an amused smile for the seven-year-old currently leaning into Jiang Cheng’s side. “I recall you mentioning a desire to show me Lotus Pier’s marketplace in your last message – but it seems a-Ling perhaps has other ideas?”

“I wanna go watch the sword practise,” Jin Ling confirms, burrowing his head and shoulder further in toward Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng looks down at him. His hair is studded with tiny ornaments and tied up into a pale embroidered gold Jin ribbon. He holds Suihua (where had he gotten it from?), and cajoles two uncles in place of a mother and father.

(Had Jiang Cheng ever clung to Yanli like this, when they were children? Of course he had. The recognition tears something unsettling in his throat.)

“You can have one of the senior disciples take you to watch the drills, and then Jin-zongzhu and I will come see how well you’ve learned once we’re done here,” he says – a passable enough recovery of his usual authority, he hopes. He turns and beckons one of his own seniors in Jiang blues with a nod of his chin.

Jin Ling looks back at Jin Guangyao when the Jiang disciple leans down to take his hand. “It’s okay to go ahead?”

Jin Guangyao smiles again, the broad one that crinkles his eyes and dimples his cheeks and always makes Jiang Cheng feel irritatingly patronized, or seen through, or… something. All he knows is it gives him an unsettling clench in his gut half the time he sees it, even if it’s not directed at him.

“While you’re at Lotus Pier, you’re free to do whatever you please within Jiang-zongzhu’s guidance,” he says to Jin Ling, before ending with a glance up, meeting Jiang Cheng’s own gaze with the same smile on his mouth but a different look entirely in his eyes.

That’s a premonition of a conversation to come, Jiang Cheng figures. He’s only been Jin-zongzhu for less than a year by now, but Jiang Cheng’s been met with enough looks amidst discussions with the previous clan leader, followed by Jin Guangyao catching his sleeve after he’s left for running another variation on the topic without his father present, to understand the same one now.

Whatever. He’ll deal with it whenever Lianfang-zun decides to make it his problem and no sooner. If he doesn’t like Jiang Cheng using his own authority with his own nephew in his own sect, he can bring it up on his own time.

Once Jin Ling and most of the disciples have gone ahead to the main complex, though, Jiang Cheng ends up reminding himself of exactly why Jin Guangyao has a tendency to be pleasant company. He asks after the relationships Jiang Cheng has been overseeing with the minor sects in the region, and offers up a couple suggestions for other contacts outside Yunmeng that he might be able to offer them to ease some of their trade problems. He listens to the impromptu tour Jiang Cheng gives of the Lotus Pier market, as he introduces the various familiar faces he’s looked at with a certain pride of responsibility ever since they’d been waving at him as the sect’s young master; as well as the newer faces he’s come to know in the rebuilding process, as they brought in replacements for the pieces of Lotus Pier’s foundation that had been lost during the war.

He asks just the right questions to let Jiang Cheng segue into a topic he can feel genuine pride at, and manages to look genuinely interested in the answers. When they stop to speak with the stall owners, he smiles at all the aunties and uncles and grandfathers oh so charmingly, and compliments their wares as if he’d been shopping in Lotus Pier his whole life.

(“Oh, and here I’d been hoping you might serve some of that delicious wuchang fish you had prepared during the last cultivation conference while I was here again,” he’d exclaimed when they came across one of the fishermen hauling in the day’s catch from a nearby lake. “I remember it being sliced so beautifully as well – but one could hardly expect anything else in Yunmeng, could they?”)

And Jin Guangyao is indeed such a flawless conversationalist, that after another half-shichen in his company, Jiang Cheng has begun to find it almost grating. He’s got a pinched feeling in the base of his stomach that’s only grown as they’ve wound their way back up to the Jiang sect’s compound, vaguely listening to Jin Guangyao update him on recent news from other corners of the cultivation world.

They’re almost to the gates when the sound of sword drills reaches Jiang Cheng’s ears, and he remembers in a sudden rush back of emotion the thing he’d been meaning to get answers on before they rejoined the rest of their sects.

“Lianfang-zun,” he interrupts, unable to help the tension he can feel creasing his brow from taking up its usual home in his face. No use trying to be delicate about it – he’d see through it anyway, and then Jiang Cheng would just feel like a fool again for having tried. He squares his shoulders and refuses to be moved to apology by the questioning surprise in Jin Guangyao’s glance.

“Jin Ling was carrying Jin Zixuan’s sword when you arrived here,” he says. He tries at least to make it sound less like an accusation than it feels. “You gave it to him?”

In return, Jin Guangyao smiles at him briefly. “I did. Not for practicing with, of course – not until he’s older and his core has formed properly.” He’s using a soothing tone of voice, Jiang Cheng can recognise – as if he himself is the yet-coreless child who needs to be reassured that way. He bites the inside of his lip.

“It’s merely… I’ve been intending on installing honors for my elder brother within Golden Scale Tower recently as well, since presumably this position would’ve been his if not for… well. But it seems the renewed discussion of Zixuan-ge has gotten a-Ling missing his father, and I thought giving him something he had so treasured during his lifetime might provide a small comfort for what I can’t replace. And he has been working quite diligently on his sword forms, so it seemed fitting.”

Jin Guangyao is looking up at him, while Jiang Cheng is trying to sort out what his feelings are doing and keep the reflexive scowl off his face, and – it’s almost astounding how a person can manage to look both apologetic and thoroughly unwilling to give any ground away at the same time. He glances down to where Jin Guangyao has clasped his fingers together, almost hidden beneath the sturdy silk of his sleeves, and then breaks away entirely.

“Oh, well. If that’s what it is, then good. He should have something of his father’s to remember him by.”

The people at Golden Scale Tower still tell plenty of stories of Jin Zixuan, Jiang Cheng knows – he’s heard some personally on visit, and also about them, via Jin Ling’s resultant questions and boasts, as reported to him by none other than Jin Guangyao himself. But he wonders how many people still left there knew Jin Zixuan in the way a child ought to know his father, instead of as a distant figure worthy of gossip now and again because he’s the sect leader’s only (acknowledged) child.

He wonders whether anyone at all has seen fit to tell Jin Ling anything meaningful about his mother whatsoever.

Around the hilt of Sandu, his knuckles clench white and painful, as he tries to make himself stop letting that line of thought grow, before it can take over and loom over his head entirely. A stupid waste of effort, usually, but if there’s one thing he doesn’t want, it’s letting his emotions so obviously getting the better of him in front of Jin-zongzhu, Lianfang-zun, ever-accommodating perfect host Jin Guangyao.

Jiang Cheng takes a couple of hopefully-understated breaths to try and steady himself, and then scowls despite it all when it only does about as much good as ever – but he lets the last out audibly through his nose, and then turns back to look at his guest beside him. Waiting patiently, as always.

“Well? Let’s go, then. If he’s been practicing his sword forms as much as you say, he should’ve picked up something passable here by now since we’ve been gone.”

Jin Guangyao only inclined his head politely, and follows Jiang Cheng inside to where the rest of their disciples – along with their shared nephew – are waiting.

As he enters the main courtyard, he hopes for the first time in a while, childishly and without much real conviction, that if his sister is watching over any of them, himself or Jin Ling most of all – that she will grant him the strength missing from his heart these past several years, to make part any of this easier for him. Even just a little bit would help.

#that time James wrote fic #no good things for the poor sad cultivators #Jiang Cheng #Jin Guangyao #....look much like jgy I myself am only going to sort of apologise for the sneaky chengyao agenda here #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#TWO FUCKING THOUSAND WORDS ISTG I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENS #I *literally* wrote this all today #do you remember when the last time I wrote 2k in a day was? nope? neither do I!#I should. go the fuck to bed now.#maybe clean this up and give it a title and shit for ao3 tomorrow #.....oooor finish the last prompt I still have here before jgy month is over #that's a thing I could/should do too #wombathos

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 3 years

Text

HASO, “Secret Weapon.”

Hello everyone!

Sorry I have not posted anything in like a weak. I have plenty of excuses number one being that the fourth book in my favorite book series (the Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson came out) and I needed to finish reading it for my own sanity

number two being that I am currently working on a new novel and am trying to write 2000 words a day on that

plus I am trying to get into graduate school

also I have a job

And am experiencing a tiny bit f burnout :)

Either way I am sorry that It has been a while, and I hope you like the story today.

“Is he alright?”

“Not this again.”

“Someone should go talk to him.”

“I thought we were past this.”

Dr. Krill, Sunny, Dr Katie, Ramirez, and Maverick huddled outside the door to the observation platform looking inward to where the man stood in front of the window illuminated by a field of stars. His posture was eerily similar to how they had seen him once before, not long before a near breakdown had led him to take leave. Leave they weren’t entirely sure he would come back from.

They hoped this wouldn’t be like that, but this picture seemed all too familiar.

“Someone should go talk to him.”

Four heads turned to face Sunny who turned the corners of her mouth down in the approximation of a frown, “Why me.”

“Well aren't you like…. His girlfriend.”

“Ex.”

Ramirez raised an eyebrow, “You guys have been pretty cuddly recently for exes.”

Sunny huffed, “The relationship has yet to be defined, but that's beside the point. Ramirez you’re his BFF or whatever you humans call it.”

Ramirez shook his head, “Me, no I think Maverick has this one. She’s all spiritual and what not, so she is like supposed to talk to people about their problems.”

Maverick snorted, “I’m a chaplain not a therapist. Talk to doctor Adric if you need that.” She turned to look to doctor Krill, “If anyone should be talking to him it’s you. You’ve been his friend the second longest and you are the most logical.”

Dr Krill waved a hand, “I am not equipped to handle your human issues.”

“That is such a cop-out answer.”

The squabble continued for a few minutes, until finally Sunny raised her voice, “Fne, fine, I will go talk to him. You all wait here.”

They quieted down clustering around the door as they watched Sunny move forward into the room. She took a deep breath and slowly approached coming up to stand beside him. She turned her head fearing what kind of expression she might find on his face, and was both surprised, relieved, and concerned to find he had an expression of puzzled concentration on his face, brows knit together, mouth turned down in a frown.

She reached up and rested a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, you alright.”

He turned his head to look up at her, “Hmmm, oh yeah…. Fine as I can be I suppose.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His mouth turned up in a tight smile, “Only if you tell the others to stop loitering in the door and come help me out.” He raised his voice so that the others could hear and, in abashment, they headed into the room. Surprisingly Conn drifted in from the other side of the room where he had been spying from the other door.

They clustered together on one of the tables taking a seat as he turned to face them. He was smiling pleasantly, and the group glanced between each other in concern. It seemed like he was doing fine, but who were they to judge, they had been wrong before.

“Worried about me again I see.”

“I mean, you’ll forgive us. You have been…. Questionably erratic in the past.”

His smile continued,” I know, and I thank you, all for your concern about me. It is nice to know I have friends who I can count on.” He turned to look at Conn, “Go on, tell them.”

Conn floated off to the side ribbons undulating in his simulated zero gravity field, “He is stressed but not overly so.”

They nodded relieved.

He turned, putting his hands behind his back and began to pace. Hisback was straight and the way he walked was like a general examining his troops on the battlefield. “I admit that I have been distant, and I admit that in the past something like this would have overwhelmed me. I still FEEL overwhelmed though not in a drowning sort of way.” He turned the other direction, “I feel like I have been caught in an intergalactic game of chess where I am the king facing down a queen and her rooks.”

Sunny didn’t understand the metaphor but Krill certainly seemed to.

“I don’t have enough experience to play the game and so my movements are limited. But the chairwoman…. She’s a Rundi, and has trained for politics all her life in one way or another.” he turned back in the opposite direction. “And just like a king in chess I find myself the most important piece of a game that I cannot directly influence.”

They watched him pacing back and forth. They had never seen him like this, though it was better than the other options.

“I think you underestimate your position.”

Admiral vir lifted his head, “And how is that?”

Dr Kate idly played with the ends of her hair as she thought, “Well, you know what she is planning. And she doesn't know that you know, which, I feel, gives you a leg up.”

He nodded, ‘And you are right, for sure, butI find the problem being that I’m not…. Smart enough to know how to use it.” He turned in the other direction, “I had my IQ tested at the academy you know…. Above average but nowhere close to genius, which I would need to be in order to play this sort of game.” He turned to eye krill, “We have a certified genius aboard the ship, but something tells me that politics wouldn’t be your strong suit.”

Krill shrugged rather abashedly. That was true enough.

“If only I had some sort of secret weapon.”

***

Eris had never been off-world.

Noctopolis had been her home for as long as she could remember though the early days of her life had been spent inside a cage. She was Eunique, the only one of her kind, half human and half starborn, and sometimes, it felt, completely alone.

Despite her maturity, she was less than three years old, and had been grown at an enhanced rate inside a simulated womb using adapted DNA to configure her parts. She was completely unnatural, a freak of nature that had nothing to do with nature. She was an unnatural abomination. And since they had been rescued, she had spend her days living and working for other people. The hybrids had needed a stable home,somewhere they could learn and grow and feel loved.

She had created that place, and provided that for a time, but she was growing exhausted.

Others had stepped in to help and volunteer. People from all over the galaxy had really shown their compassion in coming to her and either adopting the hybrids or offering to help and work athr foundation. A sweet LFIL couple (Tesraki and Human pair) had offered to take over for her as she was struggling to run what what essentially a business in some ways, though it was more a boarding house for the hybrids.

In the end there were only a few left who needed watching, and her burnout had been obvious to others.

She needed to get away.

To find her own path, but….. What was that?

Eris couldn’t survive in space like a starborn, that was well established, her bones and organ structures were like that of a human. The internal structures of a hybrid always had to be one way or another to avoid horrific malfunctions, so in most ways she was human.

Accept for her skin, and eyes of course which were starborn. She was as pale as alabaster and her eyes were wide and dark. This made her a freak to humans, so she kept her dark hair very long inorder to hide her face, which she grew more and more ashamed of by the day.

It didn’t help that she had the ability to read the thoughts of others, and knew better than anyone what people thought about her.

She wore a gravity belt sometimes since she found it felt better on her joints, but she had stopped when she left the foundation and struck out on her own. Today she wore a hoodie -- with the UNSC logo on it -- and very dark sunglasses.

Final boarding call for flight 1427 to earth, Final boarding call.

Eris followed behind the tide of other humans pulling her luggage along behind her. She was tired, and her knees ached a little, but she supposed she was ok. Due to the nature of her eyes, she didn’t see very well as humans did, but reading the minds of others as a constant background in her head she was able to navigate better than anyone there as she knew when they were going to move on when they were going to stop. She maneuvered the tide of human bodies like no human could.

Again, Eris was mostly human. She didn’t hear though, and relied on others to do that for her, and she couldn't taste or smell either, but that was also something she could borrow.

Her senses lacked only what the people around her could and could not see.

She follow the boarding call with the other passengers and offered her ticket to the flight attendant.

The woman squinted under her hood rather suspiciously, but didn’t say anything. These space ports were well guarded, and Eris had already had to deal with other people staring at her when she went through security.

She followed the other humans onto the shuttle and took a seat. The floor glowed blue throbbi in time with the engine as she locked herself into her seat. Out the window she could see the surface of mars, Hazy grey in the distance with rough red plateau’s rising up in the distance.

It was strange to be in the human system, the genesis of half her ancestral line. SHe didn't know about her starborn half as she had never met one. She knew who her DNA donor had been in theory, though he had likely had his DNA stolen.

Eris doubted that he knew about her.

And then there was her human donor, Admiral Vir, the most famous human in the galaxy.

Eris Vir

She kind of liked that, though she never really used it, feeling he might see it as a breach of privacy. The man had been nothing but good to her the few times she had met him, and the one time he had saved her. She admired him a lot and wished she had a better relationship with him, though his job took him far away. She wasn’t the only one, most all of her hybrid brothers and sisters, who were part human,had been grown off his stolen DNA.

She was the only one, however, that seemed to care.

Eris Vir.

She sighed and leaned her head against the window.

What was she doing?

Below her the ground sped away as the automated safety system continued to give instructions.

“Preparing for warp.”

She held onto the seat feeling her insides churn as the warp sequence engaged. She jerked once against her seatbelt as te warp stopped, and below her she could see the glittering vista of the human homeworld.

Earth.

She pressed her face up to the window and gasped in awe.

It was beautiful blue and green swirled with delicate white clouds in churning spirals.

Herheart raced inside her chest.

This was it…. This is where it all began.

Preparing to dock on lunar 1 please remain in your seats until the seatbelt sign is off.

She waited patiently and stopped off with the others, walking out into the fifth spaceport of her trip, her suitcase rattling behind her.

She followed the sins to the proper docking station and waited for another shuttle that would take her to earth. It would be at least an hour for the next one to Mid-Mericanda, so she would have to wait.

She slumped in her seat and listened to the music of the girl next to hre. The music was ood, it had a nice beat.

When her boarding was called, she stood and followed onto another shuttle, which took her down through the atmosphere rattling and bouncing in her seat. She did her best to keep her hood covering her face as she stared out the window at the wondrous view below her. It was so bright!.

Noctopolis had no sunlight, but this was beautiful and colorful, and it looked so warm.

She didn’t see why everyone thought earth was so dangerous.

They touched down outside an Airport where she could see planes fuling for in-atmosphere flights, and stepped out onto the tarmac with wide eyes. Wides eyes under the radiation of the sun. Glorious, glorious heat, it warmed her through her sweatshirts and into her body making her drowsy and happy and warm. Her entire body felt energized, and even her knees seemed as if they were aching just a little less. She stood in the sun probably longer than she should have.

“Been a while since you’ve seen the sun huh?”

She jumped a little in surprise, which was unusual for her and turned to look at the human baggage attendant standing on the other side of the gate, “Oh yes…. A very…. Very long time.”

The smiling human tipped his hat at her, “Well enjoy your stay ma’am.”

She couldn’t help but smiling back thinking about how pleasant he was. His memories were warm, filled with sunny days spent with his family. It made her chest ache just to think of it as she turned and headed towards the baggage claim.

She picked up her bags just fine and then walked to stand just outside.

Suddenly very lost.

She looked up at the sky which was a beautiful blue color she had never seen before and she breathed in the air of earth, Air thousands of years old, breath in by countless humans that had come before.

Eris frowned at herself. She needed to stop thinking of them as being so different from her. She was half human after all, even though her eyes and skin were a little strange. Still, it that moment she had never felt so alien, unsure of where to go or how to proceed.

“Need a lift. Lady.”

She turned on the spot coming fact to face with a man leaning back against the hood of his strange yellow machine…. A taxi it seemed.

She searched or his intentions and heard nothing but his desire to work.

She walked over nervously and held up a small piece of paper, “I am looking for this address, do you know how I can get there.” He scanned the address with a chip implanted in his hand and then tilted his head to look down at his wrist as a map appeared.

He chewed slowly on a wad of gum and blew a bubble, “Yeah I can get you there, can you pay.”

“Do you take credits?”

“Take anything as long as you meet the exchange value for dollars.”

She nodded, “I would like to be taken there then, please.”

The man nodded and touched his forehead helping her ut her suitcase in the back before opening the door for her. She climbed in, and h slid into the front seat pulling away and into traffic. Looking around she could see most of the vehicles didn’t touch the ground, though a few rolled on wheels. The high speeds at which they drove made her nervous and she clutched the harness holding her in place.

Below her she could see the city unfolding in a great sprawling vista. She stared, the architecture was so strange with sharp geometric lines mostly of steel and glass rising hundreds of feet into the air. They dropped lower into the city and eventually out to where lines and lines of similarly cut houses stood in sharp rows.

She had seen this in the memories of humans before but never thought shed see it.

They drove for a little longer until the houses gave way to sprawling fields and little tons until they pulled into a small place in comparison to the city, past a school and some other amenities before pulling in to another one of the subdivisions.

She recognized the house even though she had never seen it in person, and the Driver pulled to a stop.

She paid the man and stepped out of the car thanking him as he got her bag for her and then just drove off.

Eris was left standing alone on the quiet suburban street under an earth sun. Though she was alone her mind was full of strange images, seen through the eyes of unusual creatures. It made her disoriented for a moment, but she quietly walked forward up the sidewalk and to the front door of the house.

She paused.

She could feel people inside, and knew that she was at the right palace, but she was nervous, how would they react to her. Would they even accept her existence?

What was she doing here?

It’s not like she was part of thor family, not by choice anyway.

She almost turned around but stopped and then raised a hand knocking softly on the door.

Eris held her breath and waited, footsteps approached the door, a man approaching thinking nothing more than one of his neighbors come to ask a question.

The door opened and Jim Vir looked down at her.

He was a tall intimidating man, one who had work hard all his life.

He tilted his head in that curious fashion humans had, “Can I help you?”

Nervously, Eris pushed back her hood and pulled off her sunglasses letting her long black hair roll down next to her face. The man’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but the thought in his head was a little less than what she expected.

Another one

He frowned, “You’re…. Not a starborn ar you?”

Hedidn’t seem to think so recalling that Adam’s friend Conn couldn’t survive without a 0 gravity field.

She shuffled nervously, “No…. well yes…. I’m half starborn and half human.”

Yep, another one.

To her surprise he smiled and opened the door, “You must be Eris then.”

She blinked, “You know about me/”

Dumb question as she could see Adam had told his parents about her. They even had a picture of the two of them together.

Despite hos scary he looked his thoughts and demeanor were pleasant as he opened the door to invite her in, “Guess this makes you my granddaughter in a way doesn’t it?”

“In the technical sense.” She said quietly smiling

“Well Family is always welcome here.”

Isn’t that nice she thought.

She hoped it was going to work out

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