#mentions of abuse
Text
⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’
THEODORE NOTT— a popular slytherin, an introvert at heart, despite his reputation as a womanizer. theodore nott, who has a big, terrible communication problem.
with the pure terror of displaying his vulnerable emotions, theodore smokes cigarettes to force his emotions to disappear with the wind; bites his inner lip and cheek until his mouth bleeds, so no tears threaten to make way to his eyes.
when theodore nott cries, he stares blankly into the wall. he doesn't sob— sobbing would make him even weaker, more vulnerable, less capable and definitely useless, in his father's eyes.
silent tears are the epitome of theodore's sadness, because other than that, his sadness, stress and troubled thoughts are never known. hidden by a mask of stoic expressions.
theodore nott is 'stupid' smart. if he wasn't a slytherin at heart and soul, then he'd be a ravenclaw, or at least that's what the professors comment amongst them. theo enjoys reading, and would easily spend his afternoon on a silent, vacant corner of the castle, devouring a book in few hours.
he lies, saying that it's simply because knowledge is a good weapon. he'd be saying the truth, if theodore confesses that he reads this much, because whether be it fiction or not, he can escape his thoughts to fully concentrate on the book's contents.
theodore nott is knowledgeable, theodore nott is a good, straight-A's student. theodore nott is quick-witted; you wouldn't want to banter with him, because usually, he gets the last word with a victorious, cheeky smile— an insufferable cocky grin.
and yet, shamefully, theodore nott has no idea how to verbalize his feelings.
every good liar is like this, he'd argue. in exchange of spilling the most atrocious lies with a straight face and nonchalant tone, theodore finds it awfully hard to tell the truth.
ask him what's wrong— you can do that, sure. now, if theodore will answer you, that's another story. and to give you a genuine answer, if he doesn't snap? then an angel must have fallen down its altar.
then, if he can't verbalize or trust anyone, not even mattheo riddle or lorenzo berkshire on a good day— what does theodore nott do, to deal with his full mind and empty heart?
theodore nott destroys.
he destroys other living beings,
being the first one to join mattheo riddle, with a smile on his face, when his best friend snaps at the smallest hint of disrespect. throwing a (not really) deserved punch at a guy that honestly, if you ask him afterwards, theodore has no idea what he done wrong.
when lorenzo scolds mattheo for starting a fight and reprimands theodore for indulging it, the slytherin simply shrugs. he's "looking out for his bro", he says. that's only partially true, as much as he deeply cares for mattheo.
everytime that he starts fights, like a rabid dog. theodore doesn't really know when he stopped being il dolce ragazzo of his madre. when he became a dog that bites without thinking about barking first. "so much for claiming to be the logical one," — lorenzo muses.
... he destroys himself.
which would explain the concerning amount of muggle, wizarding, flavored, all shaped packs of cigarettes he owns. there isn't a brand that he didn't try, at least once— the more harmful, the better.
smoking until his lungs become as black as his heart, as his dark thoughts. smoking, until he drops dead with his worries. smoking, until theodore nott becomes a better man (something that he doubts he could do, for he was born a broken man— born from a couple that should have never crossed paths with each other).
consequently, damaging his hands. skin that becomes calloused and slightly scarred from the cigarettes. knuckles constantly bruised from throwing punches at gryffindors or smartass ravenclaws.
so, theodore nott starts believing that he's unlovable. that loving him— oh, that would be torture. pure masochism, that he wouldn't wish to anyone, not even the witch he dislikes or rolls his eyes at the most.
and that becomes a creeping fear of his. oh, theodore is terrified, when the thought of becoming like his father plagues his mind.
to think that he'd become such a disgusting man, the man who brought so much pain to his mother, that killed the only person who truly loved him.
what would his mother say, if she saw him like this?
would she be disappointed, would she be ashamed to even spare a look at him? would her beautiful porcelain face become a frown, would she walk away, disgusted?
theodore consumes three more cigarettes on that thought alone.
... or would she give him a sympathetic look, gazing at her dolce, bravo ragazzo with those tender eyes of hers? a shade of blue, that theodore was fortunate to inherit.
a sad smile makes its way to his lips. because now, even for a brief moment, theo is himself again. he's not a casanova slytherin, he's not the heir of the nott family. theodore nott is simply his mother's little boy, her teddy.
in honor of such bittersweet memories, theo drops his cigarette and doesn't smoke for at least 24 hours.
theo doesn't know how to deal with comfort. genuinely tender touches, fingertips grazing his skin so lightly—
of desperately needy, lustful touches, he knows. he knows them very well, from all those times he slept with a woman, ruined her for the next guy. from the times a slytherin girl gripped and pushed his hair, needing, begging more of his mouth on her; or when a gryffindor got so lost in pleasure that she left the mark of her nails on his back; when a hufflepuff senior clenched her fingers on his torso, hips and shoulders, screaming for more, deeper, faster; that time when he found a way to shut up a particularly insufferable ravenclaw know-it-all by fucking her mouth, and when he felt the back of her throat on him, the stubborn ravenclaw gripped, scratched, protested on his thighs.
of harsh, violent, cruel, merciless touches, everytime mr. nott decided that a disgusted, disappointed gaze wasn't enough to educate his son. when those knuckles adorned with rings curled into a fist, and theodore was beaten into discipline. all those times he started fights and consequently got hit by a punch or two, even though theodore is a good fighter, and makes sure that even if he does get hurt, the receiving end is in worse state, in need of more than one night in the infirmary wing.
⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’
... but comforting, meant to soothe, gentle touches? oh, theo is terrified of them. rather than flinching away from a fist coming his way, theo looks like a scaredy cat when fingers come to brush his hair away from his face, with all the love and care of the world.
theo doesn't know those touches. to be fair, yes, he was acquainted with them once— but that was long, long ago, when his mother was still alive. a life ago, really, because sometimes theodore wonders if he's the same teddy he once was, under the protective but loving arms of his mother.
so at first, theo panics when you hug him, when you physically bring comfort to his broken, damaged heart.
but then?
then, after he gets a taste of how heavenly it feels to be held by someone he loves? then, theo embraces the fact that he is indeed a touch starved man. then, theo completely and shamelessly melts under your touch, relaxing in your embrace, wishing to never leave this safe haven.
( or maybe he does. a little voice on the back of his mind, menacingly suggesting that this safe haven, this loving harbor — you — might disappear into thin air by the cruel hands of his father, the same he did with his mother. )
but before his truly prodigious brain dares to overthink once again— your hands comb through his hair, brushing it back along with his worries, massaging the scalp and melting the troubled thoughts away. that's when theo closes his eyes. that's when he, finally, is in peace with himself.
and if you'd ask him; this is when and where theodore nott is the happiest. this is when theodore nott is teddy again.
౨ৎ these voices in my head screaming ♡ ͡
run now. i'm praying that they're human . . .
🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.
— my motivation? it's a silly little drabble, about my favorite slytherin. theodore nott deserves love, seriously.
the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷
#theodore nott#theo nott#theodore nott x reader#harry potter#harry potter drabbles#theo nott x reader#theo not x you#slytherin boys react#angst#angst headcanons#theodore nott dating#dating headcanons#angst with a happy ending#mentions of abuse#mattheo riddle#lorenzo berkshire#slytherin x reader
659 notes
·
View notes
Note
What about Bowser and a preggo Y/N?
And why not? :)
-------------
The frantic sound of bare feet slapping unevenly against cold, unforgiving stone echoes down the hallway, ricocheting off vast, stone walls and filling the oppressive space with the proof of your desperate escape.
Lungs heaving like a set of billows, you try your utmost to focus on throwing one foot out after the other, clutching an arm around your swollen belly in some futile attempt not to jostle the tiny life growing inside it as you lurch down the corridor, wincing with every step that pounds against the unforgiving stone beneath you.
Somewhere far behind you, from deep in the bowels of the fortress, a thunderous roar erupts into the air, chasing you through the doors that you've left swinging in your wake.
“Well-!” you puff down to your stomach, skidding around a corner and lumbering towards another set of enormous, stone doors, “He had to wake up eventually.”
It's always dark in the Dark Lands, but the lack of activity in the twisting hallways clues you in to the fact that night must have settled its oppressive weight over the fortress, driving the koopas into their barracks to sleep. You'd only dared to make this escape attempt hours after their ruler laid his mighty head down and filled his chambers with the deep, rolling melody of snores.
If anything, you're lucky to have made it this far, to have put as much distance between you and your captor as you already have. Any extra progress you happen to make is a delightful bonus.
It's been six months since you fell pregnant, and only two months since you fell into Bowser's clutches. Two gruelling months of trying to hide the growing bump beneath your dress's garlands. Two months of escape attempts, all in an effort to get your unborn child to safety.
So long as you're still here, in the fortress of a tyrant, the baby is at risk.
Every day since Bowser discovered he'd kidnapped a pregnant human, your future offspring seems less of a blessing, and more of a ticking time bomb sitting in your womb.
They're leverage. They could be used to control you.
Worse still, they could be hurt.
At the back of your mind, a tiny voice reasons that your assumptions are, so far, utterly baseless.
Much as it stings your pride to admit, you've yet to come under any fire from Bowser, or his troops. You're only too aware that a Koopa of his stature and power could have done far, far worse than keeping you here under lock and key, although that in itself you consider an unforgivable crime.
In actual fact, if you were questioned under extreme duress, you'd have to concede that he's been infuriatingly accommodating.
Even more-so after he finally used his brain and realised that you weren't diving into the bathroom to throw up because he'd accidentally over-salted the food he brought you.
If you thought he was overbearing in the first few months of your imprisonment, you were rather unpleasantly surprised to discover that he could get a whole Hell of a lot worse...
Another roar shakes through the corridor, powerful enough to nearly send you toppling off your wobbly feet.
There are plenty of aspects about Bowser you find troubling.
His unchecked jealousy, for one. The possessive rigidity of his hand when it's wrapped around your wrist. How he stubbornly deafens himself to reason and rationality if it doesn't align with his interests.
But there's one trait of his – one terrible, frightening quirk in his biology – that turns your blood to ice inside your veins.
It's that very same 'trait' that's chasing you through the endless hallways right now.
You know you only have yourself to blame for drawing him out.
The giant.
You can picture it now – Bowser, laying in his chambers, curling his tail up to feel the open air around it where once a warm body had been occupying the space. He must have woken to find you missing from his side and promptly lost what little self-control he's already barely in possession of.
You can feel it in the way his fortress quivers around all you now, as if afraid of its own king.
You once thought Bowser was already indomitable enough.
Then you saw what he can become, what he's capable of turning into with enough rage and power feeding into his temper.
You've only seen it happen once, and ever since, you've hoped with everything in you that you wouldn't have to see it again.
Yet judging from the way the ground trembles and the distant 'boom,' 'boom,' 'boom,' of gargantuan footfalls begins to draw closer, you fear you're about to be reacquainted with the very worst aspect of the self-proclaimed King.
Swollen and sore, your feet hum with a heat that stings at their soles, but still you push forwards, gasping for air that wheezes too thinly down your throat.
You won't let him take back to that room.
To that... that detestable nest.
Not least because you can't bear the humiliation of being fawned over and coddled for another, mortifying moment. At least before your pregnancy was discovered, you'd been allowed the illusion of privacy.
You were given your own bed chambers, you could sleep without the weight of the King pressing in around you like a slumbering mountain. You had time to yourself, albeit a few hours, where you could be free from Bowser's boundless attention.
Then, of course, you were found out.
Within less than a moment, what little 'freedom' you were so graciously handed was swiftly snatched back.
Much to your chagrin, you were removed from your chambers and moved straight into the King's.
Instead of simply watching you eat your meals with that daft, adoring grin stretching his muzzle, he started trying to feed you directly. The silver spoon always looked so ridiculous clutched inside his meaty paw. His big, bottom lip would stick out childishly each and every time you snatched the spoon away from him and reminded him sternly that you're only pregnant. You're not bed-ridden.
A sudden agony swells in your stomach and ripples outwards along each of your limbs, slowing you to a gasping stagger, as if your tiny passenger has finally decided to take umbrage with your lumbering motions.
Before you can gather your wits, you've opened your mouth to release a strangled cry, nearly falling to your knees as you grasp feverishly at your belly, eyes bulging in their sockets.
So much for only pregnant....
“Ah! Shit!” you hiss, stumbling sideways until your shoulder collides painfully with the solid, stone wall, “Gah! Not now, kid.”
Raking a hand through sweat-soaked hair, you grind your teeth together and suck a hissing breath between them, glancing at the path ahead of you through eyes bleary with tears. Another towering, stone doorway stands in front of you, large and tempting. You have no idea where it leads – this wing of the castle looks much the same as all the others that Bowser has tried to show off to you – but right now, forwards is vastly preferable to backwards.
You have to press on, even though your ligaments feel as though they're being wrung out, even though there's an invisible knife twisting into your side and causing you to cringe away from nothing, you have to press on.
Escape could be just behind those doors. Today could finally be the day you slip between Bowser's grasping fingers and reclaim your freedom. You might see Captain Skip again. She's loyal, oftentimes to a fault. Surely, surely she's still waiting for you on the docks, hatching a daring rescue attempt, knowing her. It's been one of the most troubling prospects that's been on your mind daily since you were first brought here. To see Skip storm Bowser's fortress with her crew, only to be cut down by the vastly superior numbers of troops heaving behind the walls.
You sailed across vast oceans with Skip and those sailors for months. They're good people with families and loved ones waiting for them back home in your kingdom. You'd do anything to spare them the fate that awaits them here, even if it means invoking the wrath of Bowser's colossal counterpart by trying to rescue yourself.
Setting your jaw with a firm click of teeth, you suck down a long, noisy breath and shove yourself upright off the wall, tottering forwards on your bare feet until you reach the door and slap both hands around the silver handles.
Shoulders braced, you move to throw the doors open, itching to get to the other side-
'WHAM!'
There isn't enough self-restraint in the galaxy that could have kept the startled yelp from bursting out of your lungs. It's only half a second later that you cram a hand over your mouth, as if to stuff the sound back down into your chest.
A swell of scorching, hot air surges into the corridor behind you, reaching you in a terrifying matter of moments and rolling up the nape of your neck.
Blind terror seizes your mobility away from you and turns your feet to lead.
You're still facing the doorway just in front of you, stiff-necked and bug-eyed with one hand clenched like a vice around the handle.
In the reflection, a huge, distorted shape raises its fiery head.
Eyes of fire blaze hot within the cool, silver surface.
There's something inherently paralysing in realising you've been spotted in a game of cat and mouse. The tendency to freeze overwhelms you for a few, crucial seconds where you hold perfectly still, bound by some misguided hope that if you don't make a single movement, the predator behind you won't be enticed to pounce.
You don't remember how to turn and glance over your shoulder.
You know what you'll find if you look.
You can tell by the crashing bellow that rattles your brain in its skull that you're out of luck. There are no more barriers between you and your pursuer.
You'd moved too slowly...
The walls around you begin to tremble in a fast, unsteady rhythm, and the ground shudders under your feet, and still it feels as though someone has turned a key in your spine and locked your limbs up tight.
It's only when the shadow of two, pointed horns fall upon you and rise up the door that you finally burst back to life.
Kicking off the lead weights attached to your ankles, you tug at the doors with all your might. But stone is heavy. Heavier than you recall it being.
The doors scrape open an inch, and all of a sudden, they're struck from above with the force of a siege machine as something huge smashes into them, wrenching the handles from your grasp and scaring a strangled yelp out of you.
An all-too familiar burst of moist air breathes down on top of your head, billowing at the collar of your night dress. The moisture from his maw mingles horribly with the sweat that trickles down the nape of your neck.
Swallowing thickly, you crank your neck back, shoulders hunched, until your eyes land upon the underside of a mammoth wrist, bedecked with a silver-spiked cuff that glints menacingly when its points catch the meagre firelight.
Attached to the wrist is a mountainous hand sporting its own set of spikes. These however, occur naturally, in the form of terrible, foot-long claws that perch at the end of each monstrous fingers.
The palm is taller than you are, and sits flat against the stone doors, sealing them shut so firmly that nothing short of an explosion could ever hope to shift them.
God... You can hear his almighty chest heaving raggedly overhead, immense lungs straining to pull in enough air just to refill them with the oxygen he'd expelled hunting you down.
It's him.
Bowser, but not quite. A King who has temporarily sacrificed what little brain he possesses to give himself a massive boost in brawn.
Despite the inherent need to see the rest of the titan bearing down upon you, you lower your gaze to the stone at your feet with a shaky gulp and keep your belly pressed to the door, curling around it with a fierce if futile determination to put yourself between the baby and any supposed danger.
As if a few, scant inches of flesh could stop the King from getting to them if he really wanted to.
Regardless of your noble effort, a second paw – equally as enormous as the first - presses urgently in around you. Claws almost as long as your forearm slip around the front of your night dress, and with a hesitant care that you don't notice in the ensuing fright, you're carefully eased away from the doors.
You immediately have something to say about it. Predominantly, “No!”
It hurts you to twist and wriggle, but you do your best to try and slip free of Bowser's fingers as they curl around your legs and torso, leaving your arms and fists free to beat uselessly at the hard, yellow scales on his knuckles. “Put me down!” you spit in an attempt to sound authoritative, dismayed that the crack in your tone belies the effort.
As if in direct defiance of your demand, the monstrous King instead lifts you up, twisting his wrist around slowly until, at last, that massive, protruding maw rises into view, swallowing up the world around you with its inescapable vastness.
Slitted nostrils flare open and closed at a frantic pace, pulling and pushing at the sweat-dampened hair sticking to your forehead. Without skipping a beat, the colossus leans his snout in close, bringing you towards the sharp fangs that are too large for his maw to contain.
Your eyes flash down to them as your pulse starts to thrash, pounding at the walls of your skin as if your heart itself is trying to abandon ship.
Bowser has never hurt you...
Yet...
It's that 'yet' that flashes through your mind as you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever punishment the King has in mind.
Surely he's reached the end of his fuse. Surely you've pushed him over the edge and he's at last going to do something so terrible, so painful, all of your misgivings about him will be justified.
So it comes as a shock, when, rather than fire or jaws, you feel the soft press of a snout against your cheek.
You'd open your mouth to gasp if it wasn't also being smothered by Bowser's thick, rubbery lips as he begins to snuffle gently at your face, checking you over for injuries...
Secured in his surrounding grasp, you toss your head from left to right, trying to escape the hot breaths that are puffed out across your head. All for nought, of course. The gigantic snout follows your thrashing and gives your mouth a last, hearty sniff before suddenly, it starts to move south, skirting over your dress until it comes to hover just inches from your belly.
Gradually, like the bars of a cage being pried open, his fingers uncurl from around you and he tips his hand back so that you're left laying prone in the cup of his palm, your feet just barely dangling over the edge.
All at once, you freeze in place, your eyes growing wide and round with alarm.
No... Not them... They don't deserve to be punished because of what you did... You'll take his retribution on any other part of your body, if he'll just leave your stomach alone.
“Please,” you whisper, wetting your lips and swallowing the acrid taste that builds on your tongue at the abhorrence of begging for the creature's mercy, “Please, it's not their fault I ran... Don't... don't hurt them... Leave them alone.”
The King gives you a look, then, his blood-red eyes flicking up from your belly to squint at you, brows of flaming orange drawing into a tight, indignant line across his forehead.
Bowser doesn't talk when he's like this. His vocal chords have been twisted and stretched out of shape, but he doesn't need the ability to speak to convey his message quite clearly through expression alone.
He's offended. That you'd... what? Assume that your kidnapper might be angry enough to make you face retribution for your actions?
Hell, the baby's own father had smacked you dizzy for the mere crime of expressing a desire to keep the poor child. How can Bowser think it's such a stretch for you to expect similar from the Koopa who took you captive?
Like a mountain pressing in all around you, the titanic turtle closes the distance between your belly and his nose. For a second, the alarm of having a jaw so large approach the baby growing inside you is enough to make you raise your hands as if you could stop him.
And then, with a care that doesn't at all befit his size, Bowser slowly lets his eyes slip shut and presses the very tip of his snout against your swollen stomach, the barest pressure, the lightest touch, warm and soft and entirely careful, as if he's aware of his size and knows the damage he could inadvertently cause with the tiniest effort.
“What... are you doing?” Bewildered, you can only gape up at him as you blink away the stinging behind your eyelids, brows twisted up in disbelief.
This behaviour is... a far cry from what you'd been expecting after he caught up to you.
Ever so gradually, the King's chest stops rising and falling like a maddened bull, his bristling mane flattens down slightly and his shoulders slump in apparent relief.
After a long, silent minute spent in apprehensive silence, the Koopa peels his eyes open once more and draws his snout away from your stomach, tipping it up towards your face instead.
Heavy-lidded, his smouldering gaze holds yours for some time whilst you busy yourself trying to catch your breath, hating how much your body is already relishing the rest.
Regarding you from beneath softly drooping eyelids, the King's dark pupils expand like apertures. A rumble works its way up from the bottom of his throat, more of an exhale than a growl, though the deepness of it still sends quakes through the hand you're laying in, sending tingles all the way up your spine.
You nearly jump out of your skin when the Koopa abruptly raises his head.
“Ah!” you exclaim as the world around you rocks, though it soon occurs to you that he's only turning himself around, a motion so mundane to him, but for you, standing a fraction of his height, even the most casual movement is dialled up to eleven.
Throwing out an arm, you reflexively grab onto one of his scaly knuckles, though he's quick to curl each finger securely over you once more, tucking you securely against his chest as he plods down the corridor, rattling the overhead chandeliers with every, thunderous step he takes.
It isn't long before the giant Koopa is shouldering his way through the doors to his bed chambers again, which have since become less of a chamber and more of a nest.
The silly sod must have gathered every pillow and blanket available in the castle and plopped them all down in an ever-growing pile at the centre of the room.
The worrier in you can't help but wonder if his koopa troops have been left with enough for themselves.
The King's bed, meanwhile, has been shoved to one side of the room, apparently no longer serving as an adequate resting place. You can barely see a solitary inch of floor beneath the mass of cushions and soft beddings.
This is where you've been holed up for the last month or so...
You can't rightly say you know how long it's been, you stopped counting the days after a while...
Your leaden heart sinks down to the soles of your feet at the sight of the colourful mess welcoming you back once more.
“Home sweet home,” you grumble under your breath.
Issuing a heavy grunt, Bowser drops like a lead weight onto one forearm, watching carefully as he lowers you down into the centre of the cushions and blankets, sliding you from his palm with a wordless croon of contentment.
“You're impossible,” you complain wearily, throwing a sharp glare at the King as he pulls back and settles onto his hands, a pleased smile stretching his maw, “Just how long are you going to keep me in this stupid den?”
Predictably, Bowser ignores your grousing and instead lowers his snout to nose at some of the pillows, those that have escaped from the greater mass, nudging them back towards the centre, towards you.
Rolling your eyes, you lay a hand over your belly and sink back into the nest, feeling the mountain of cushions shift and dip under Bowser's weight as he snuffles around the pile, ensuring everything has been placed back in its correct position before he finally pulls away, sitting back on his bulky haunches and giving the nest a last once-over, bobbing his head in a decisive nod that bounces his mane like fire in the wind.
Lifting his gaze to you once more, he chuffs at you, something firm and strict, drawing his thick, bushy brows into a frown.
The message is clear.
'Stay.'
“Like I'd be able to get anywhere now, even if I wanted to,” you mutter bitterly, wincing at a pulse of pain that rocks across the balls of your feet.
For a moment, Bower's furrowed brow eases apart and he casts a look at your face. You know he must see the weariness settled there, judging by the gentle croon he emits in your direction, bulbous shoulders slumping despondently.
Several times, he casts glances between you and the door, enough that you furrow your brow, tilting your head to one side and wondering why he isn't trying to lay down on the nest himself to resume your previous arrangement, the one you'd had before making a break for it.
At last, with a final groan in your direction, Bowser heaves himself about and hurries from the room as best as his cumbersome legs will allow, his spikes scraping chunks from the door's stony frame as he leaves.
At once, you perk up, staring agog at the open entrance.
Your heart nearly leaps in anticipation, astounded that the possessive koopa has just presented you with yet another chance to escape so soon after he's plopped you back inside his nest.
Thumping footfalls trail swiftly away from the room, but never quite disappear entirely.
You're torn, anxious. Your feet hurt something fierce.
“It can't be that easy...” you murmur aloud.
… Can it?
Despite your body's feverous protest, you grit your teeth and start to drag yourself laboriously across the cushions, inch by tantalising inch, never once taking your eyes off the door.
Sadly, you've only just managed to scoot yourself a few yards closer to the edge by the time you feel those pulse-jumping footfalls approaching the room again.
Heaving a defeated sigh, you slump into the blankets around you, your heart sinking like lead in water as Bowser comes thudding back into his chambers. This time, however, when he pokes his enormous head through the doors, you're taken aback by the sight of a very sleepy Junior dangling by the tail from his father's gentle maw.
“Oh, come now,” you cluck before you can catch your tongue, “You didn't need to wake the poor boy. He's had a busy day.”
Bowser merely huffs while the koopaling in question rubs at his eyes with a pudgy, little fist as his father slowly bends down and deposits him into the bed of pillows at your side.
“You tried to run again, didn't you?” he yawns, wriggling around on his belly until his head is pointed in your direction, blinking lazily up at you.
Grumbling under your breath, you retort, “And nothing to show for it but aching feet...”
“Maybe you outght'a stop runnin' then,” he suggests, and had it been anyone else, you might not have been able to bite back a sharp reply. As it is, Junior... Well. He's not a bad kid. You wouldn't be stuck here in his father's fortress if it weren't for him, of course, but you can't bear grudges against children, especially not those who are the product of their upbringing. You can't imagine Bowser has ever taught him that kidnapping is inherently wrong, after all. It took you many, many years to shake the 'lessons' your own father had tried to instil in you. By that time, you were older and wiser than Junior is now.
In time, he'll learn... You hope.
Before you can offer up a protest, the youngster grabs a fistful of your silk skirts and tugs himself towards you, dropping his round, yellow chin in your lap with a huff.
The bitter expression on your face contrasts the gentle hand you lay upon Junior's head, idly rubbing at the scales between his stubby horns.
“Still,” you add, softer, “At least I got some exercise at last, hmm?”
A soft whuff of air ruffles against your leg, all the response Junior provides before he promptly buries his face into your dress and devolves into an exhausted, clingy lump of koopa.
“Tired?” you hum.
There's a long pause before he huffs out a muffled reply. “No.”
Bowser must have plucked him out of a very good sleep. And, you suppose, it is the middle of the night... You'd have to be heartless to try and remove the boy now...
An almighty presence rumbles at your back, and the bed of pillows shifts as Bowser lowers himself onto his belly, curling his neck and head around to your right whilst his tail coils to your left, enclosing you in a semicircle of living, breathing scales.
Like the flip of a switch, the softer expression you reserve for his son hardens to something stern and unamused as you toss a withering glare up at the giant.
He's peering back at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and to your dismay, his nose is scooting closer and closer over the pillows, pausing every few seconds as if you'll conveniently forget to notice what he's up to. With Junior still settled in your lap, you can't rightly move away.
“Well,” you sigh, blinking over the expanse of the King's snout to meet his gaze, “I suppose you must be very pleased with yourself.”
As is typical when he's like this, the Koopa doesn't reply with words.
Instead, he softly bridges the gap between you both by pressing his doughy nose into your side, forcing you to raise your arm to grant him better access lest it become trapped against your body. Appeased, Bowser lets out a contented rumble, rustling the cushions and blankets underneath you.
Pulling a face, you mutter, “You're lucky your son is here to stop me from moving.”
You can't be certain, but you think you hear the quietest snicker emerge from the koopaling in your lap.
Then again, it could have been nothing but a snore...
#Bowser#Bowser x Reader#mario#super mario bros#Pregnant reader#fluff#mentions of abuse#pregnancy pains#Literally can't be mad at Junior it's impossible#kidnapping#possessive behaviour#giga bowser#human reader
337 notes
·
View notes
Text
What the Fuck
You know, I have a fair amount of fondness for what could be considered light Qui Gon bashing, specifically in regards to how he raised Obi Wan. I wonder if any of you could tell?
Along those lines I there is one thing I would love to see more of, the High Council finding out much later (like during the war) the fucked up parts of Obi Wan’s padawanship and just go ‘Fucking what????’
Walk with me for a minute while I explain. Also this is an idea for an AU not a commentary on any version of cannon.
There are 10,000 Jedi. There is no way the high council could be personally involved with all the Master Padawan pairs, not to mention not all the members during the war were members during Obi Wan’s padawan years. So let’s start from the premise that Qui Gon and Obi Wan had the normal amount of interaction with the High Council. This is, in part, because Qui Gonn lies like a rug for 90% of their reports to make them seem more normal than they actually are. In this idea Qui Gon is also at the very least emotionally abusive and negligent, if not physically abusive as well.
So Obi Wan grows up thinking things like being left in a Cantina for hours to days is normal Master behavior, or being lost in bet (both intentionally to track slave rings and just because Qui Gon did not have as good a hand as he thought), or being forced to meditate his needs away for days, or the crippling anxiety that Qui Gon seemed to be deliberately instilling. Obi Wan never does these things to Anakin (Obi Wan just cannot convince himself to treat Anakin like he was treated, but justifies it to himself that it was Anakin that had the strange padawanship because he came to the temple too late and too early. He does always feel like a failure of a master for the fact that he couldn’t do it).
Obi Wan doesn’t talk about it to other Jedi, not out of shame but out of the sincerely held belief that every padawan faced the same, that it would be boring. He does not tell Anakin because he does not want to make his padawan feel bad for having a strange padawanship.
He does give utterly horrifying answers to any member of his battalion that asks questions about his padawan years, which convinces the clones that the Jedi need to be protected from themselves.
Now that we have set the stage, I think this should be a random time not tied to any specific set of events. Though It should be after Ahsoka is assigned to Anakin. I kind of want the Anakin, Ahsoka, Cody, and Rex present and the High council has just finished the “official” part of the meeting and have moved on to just chatting, or maybe it was before the meeting began, or perhaps it is semi official where they are talking about some Cantina in the mid rim that would be useful in an upcoming mission.
No matter the situation, Obi Wan fondly reminisces about the proprietor and how they (the proprietor, Obi Wan, and some of the regulars) had worked out a routine where Obi Wan would lure in slavers that targeted children, the proprietor would drug them, and the regulars would steal their things and figure out where they were hiding their ‘product’.
There is confused silence among the jedi present. At last Plo Koon goes ‘I know you looked young without your beard, but I didn’t think it was that young’ while thinking that he didn’t think he was that bad at judging near human ages.
Obi Wan laughs and goes ‘oh no. This was when I was 14, though I was a bit stunted after Melida/Daan so I did look a few years younger. Master Jinn like to gamble around the corner whenever we had a mission that brought us to that sector, he got great tips about the slave trade. I was so scrawny that I didn’t make good collateral until I was 16. So he left me in the Cantina’. He then muses thoughtfully that the proprietor always seemed angry with Master Jinn when he came to collect Obi Wan.
There is a dead silence, every member of the High Council turned silently to stare at Obi Wan. Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex looked shocked while Cody looked somewhere between tired and murderous as he stared into the middle distance.
Mace Windu asks, in that careful voice people can get where they don’t want to let on that there is anything wrong, about being ‘collateral’. Obi Wan answers with the air of someone who thinks their experience is much more universal than it was. Every answer he gives sparks more questions and more horror.
Obi Wan is so used to thinking that his experiences were universal that it takes him several questions before he realizes that no one is reacting as if this is normal. He starts to try and explain, you know trying to make himself understood because he assumes that it is merely him explaining badly, which makes it worse and worse and worse. Anakin is near hyperventilating because that was decidedly not how his own padawan years went (and explained some of the strange questions that Cody has asked him over the years).
Cody is actually relieved that the Jedi appear to be just as horrified over all of this as the clones were.
Each and every other member of the High council is both internally and visibly going ‘Fucken what????!!!’ with every statement Obi Wan is making. Just a straight up hour of being horrified, not evening being able to move onto guilt that no one noticed because of the sheer volume of WTF. Interspersed with various Jedi thinking about how they are going to need to get a therapist that is dedicated specifically to Obi Wan, and probably a therapist for the therapist to avoid burnout.
#star wars the clone wars#star wars au#fanfiction prompt#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#mace windu#star wars#mentions of abuse#qui gon jinn bashing#mentions of sentient trafficking
293 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hear me out, tinies comforting giants or vice versa BUT the two have never met before.
Maybe a borrower lives in the home of a family where the child is often ignored or yelled at, causing them to hide away in their room most of the time. The borrower can’t do much of anything and simply watches over the years cause they can’t be seen. However they know the kid is a good kid and they get yelled at for such little things. The borrower will watch the child try their best to impress their parents but the parents are always disappointed in them for whatever reason. Maybe the parents thought it wasn’t perfect enough or the kid didn’t do it like how the parents wanted. One day the kid is grounded for the stupidest reason and the borrower who watched everything happen is wondering what they could do. The kid is bawling their eyes out in their room and the borrower feels their heart break and they think “fuck it, they’re a good kid and they need someone” so they sneak over to the bed and climb up, getting close to the kid’s head. The steel their nerves and pat the kid while saying “It’s alright” the child is obviously startled cause who wouldn’t be, and looks at the borrower who seems a bit nervous. The borrower explains that they saw what happened and felt bad for the kid and wanted to comfort them. The kid who perhaps has never been comforted before starts crying again, maybe they scoop the borrower up and hold them close as they cry. The borrower who is shocked just accepts they’ve been scooped and hush the child while telling them that everything will be okay and that they will be there for them. After this encounter, every-time the child is hurt or punished by the parents for doing nothing wrong, the borrower slips out and comforts them. Occasionally coming out to just chat with the kid even if they aren’t grounded. Perhaps the borrower mentally adopts the human child as their own, meanwhile the child is happy to have someone, who they view as a parent, actually care about them.
What about the reverse? Maybe a tiny is crying and trying their best to calm down, but despite their best efforts they aren’t successful. They keep crying until they hear something approach. A giant figure slowly lowers down and softly asks the tiny if they are okay. The tiny, who is shocked that such a large person would even care to ask when everyone else seems to not care, burst into tears and breaks down. They go on about their problems and the giant carefully listens. Eventually the giant either scoops the tiny up to hold them close for comfort or perhaps they gently touch the tiny with their fingers in an awkward hug, while saying comforting words of encouragement. After a while once the tiny has calmed down, the giant starts to leave and let’s the tiny know that “if they ever need a hand again, to come and find them. It shouldn’t be hard with how big they are” the tiny does take up the offer and occasionally goes to the giant and chats with them, a small friendship blooms.
#g/t#gt#gianttiny#giant tiny#giant/tiny#size difference#sizedifference#g/t ideas#g/t idea#g/t concept#g/t concepts#g/t thoughts#mentions of abuse#technically??kinda??imma keep that tag just in case#I mean imagine your crying and a tiny you’ve never met just comes up to you and comforts you like that would be wild#I would do that as a tiny/giant though#just waltz up and be like ‘noticed you were hella sad…wanna hug? or talk?’
132 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eddie couldn't help himself. He stared at Billy Hargrove sometimes; the gorgeous curls and wild grin lit something inside of him the first time Eddie had ever laid eyes on him.
Billy's plush lips sucking in the smoke from his Marlboro reds, broad shoulders, tight jeans. Eddie couldn't help himself from focusing on the way Billy's tongue flashed out to wet his lips as the smoke billowed off into the sky from his nose.
Billy washed into Hawkins and Eddie's life like a hurricane from California. His loud car, crashing music, and Eddie knew just from catching sight of him once that he wanted to know everything about him. He imagined if he got close enough he'd still be able to smell the ocean air on his sun kissed skin. He wanted to know his favorite bands, his thoughts on media, God he'd even sit through talking about cars if it meant Billy would look his way. (It wasn't like he wasn't interested, just that his own knowledge was limited to keeping his dinosaur of a van alive, and he didn't want to sound like an idiot. Not in front of Billy.)
Everything about Billy attracted Eddie to him. Eddie Munson had never considered himself shy. Fuck, he was a bit awkward about social boundaries, but he'd never felt shy before. Then, there were rarely ever new people that came to Hawkins to stay. And Billy made it clear that he had no intention of staying. Hawkins was small, and desperately choking on its shallow gene pool, in Eddie's opinion. Fresh faces were hard to find, especially ones that were willing to look his way, after all.
Billy hadn't been willing. To look his way, that was. He took to the social hierarchy like a wrecking ball, and sent it all asunder. King Steve seemed no more, Tommy and Carol seemed to fight more amongst themselves these days instead of making biting remarks at others. But Billy? He still wouldn't spare a breath on Eddie the Freak Munson.
Eddie had tried once.
He'd been utterly tongue tied in approaching Billy, picking at his sleeve. The two stood awkwardly behind the school dumpsters as they had their smoke break. Eddie's hand shook as he rolled his wrist, searching for the right words that refused to come.
"I really— I mean... fuck— sorry. Hold on. Uh—"
Billy's cool gaze slid up from where his zippo burned the cherry of his cigarette. He flicked his wrist to close his lighter before he tucked it away, utterly unimpressed. Eddie would probably be unimpressed with himself too. But damn; Billy Hargrove was a God carved of marble and gold, blessed by California sun. Eddie was a home grown weed from an Indiana backyard. His brown hair frizzy, unkempt, and his skin a touch oily from his aversion to water. It wasn't like he skipped showers because he wanted to. But in that moment Eddie felt painfully aware that Billy Hargrove was miles out of his league.
"Beat it," Billy grumbled at him. "I'm not in the business of making friends with people like you," he hissed. Those beautiful blues steeling into something dangerous that made Eddie's insides go cold. He swallowed back his words and the shaking in his hand seemed to intensify.
"No um... no that's. Fair. People like me?" Eddie inquired, head tipping a bit. He wanted to know just what part of his stigma had reached Billy first. He'd seen the saints necklace dangling in the open neck of his shirt. "The Satan worshipper? The freak?"
"Queers," Billy snapped. He looked at Eddie like a hostile and wild animal. Like his smiles were more reflective of the animal kingdom than the humanity he bore to charm others. Eddie swallowed dry air and dropped his gaze? Putting his cigarette out under his shoe.
"Right," Eddie affirmed. Billy had seen the way the guy looked at him. It was impossible to miss those dark, chocolate doe eyes when they lingered on him. It tickled the inside of Billy's ribs something real funny when he noticed Eddie in class. Distracted, but gazing his way like he was looking at art in a museum.
Billy was used to people lusting after him. He was hot, and god he knew it. He utilized it more often than he probably should have, but his good genetics in the physical appearance department had gotten him into, and out of a lot of trouble.
But Eddie wasn't lusting.
Eddie looked like he was trying to figure him out. Wondering at him. And that was dangerous. Because Billy had caught himself wondering too. What calloused hands would feel like holding down his wrists, or what those pouty lips would feel like stealing the breath off his. Thoughts like that were what had led to them having to leave California. Thoughts that turned to action, action that had made Neil so angry that he gave Billy two options:
Leave California, and the boy behind...
Or go to Summer Camp.
The two seemed like impossible evils to wrestle with. And in the end, with defeat, Billy had chosen to leave his home behind. It had hurt more that the boy had moved on before Billy could even explain himself. He swore, man or woman, he wouldn't date. Dating just brought trouble. Laying roots was dangerous. Ripping them free just hurt more.
So, he broke Eddie's heart before it had the chance to bloom. So he thought.
Nearing the beginning of November, Billy struggled one morning to light his cigarette. Shivering from the cold, and possibly the pain in his ribs. The pain that curled up through him and reminded him that defiance tasted like iron and copper on every breath in.
"Here—" the voice was steeped in sweet honey. Eddie lit his cigarette for him, and Billy flicked his eyes up to meet with Eddie's.
Eddie cupped his hands around Billy's while the cigarette dangled from his lips. Eddie rubbed his rough hands over Billy's to warm them, breathing softly over them to fight away the frost and chill in the air. Billy stood stiff and still like the early frost had taken root in him.
Eddie gazed up at Billy and offered him a smile, almost sheepish as he stepped away. He mourned the loss of that warmth as soon as it was gone, the fleeting action stirring something inside that Billy didn't want to fan the flames of.
"Shit, sorry," Eddie snorted. "I'm kind of a touchy guy, and uh. Social boundaries? Not my strong suit."
Billy chuffed, shaking his head before he took his cigarette loosely between two fingers and spat onto the pavement.
"Don't fucking touch me, freak," he hissed to Eddie. His frustration sizzling as his voice lacked the ire he wanted it to have. He wanted Eddie to flinch and run. But he didn't. Instead he just... shrugged his shoulders, unbothered, and turned away to smoke his own cigarette.
The next time Billy had contact with Eddie, it happened so quickly that Eddie wasn't even sure what had happened. It was just something small. Something... simple. But as they passed in the hall, Tommy had shoulder checked Eddie hard enough to knock him on his ass, laughing like he was looking for Billy's approval. That was not what happened.
The loud crash against the lockers had startled Eddie back to himself from the position he was in on the floor.
Billy had Tommy pinned to the lockers, speaking to him in a low and deeply venomous tone.
"Hands off, Hagan. The only person who gets to mess with the freak is me," he snarled.
Eddie wondered what that meant, but it felt like stepping closer to a warm fire in a way. He knew Damm well it might be dangerous to get too close. But Eddie didn't mind the way Billy burned. He wanted to be caught in the rush of Billy's storm.
Eddie had held that warm feeling in his chest for a while. It felt like a glow, and it was something that made him look Billy's way, even when he was shoved against lockers, shoulder checked in the hall, or had his books knocked out of his hands. Eddie always caught it.
The smile that wasn't mocking, even when Billy would insult him. It was like he couldn't put the same vitriol in it that he used to.
"Freak" felt more like a term of endearment. "Loser" felt like an invitation to squabble. And God did Eddie take every chance to bicker with Billy Hargrove.
Mid December, their words had turned into a tussle.
"You wouldn't dare—" Eddie had invited, grinning at Billy who had every intention of dumping Eddie into a snowbank.
"I think you need to cool it," Billy had snarked back, looking less than threatening with his red beanie on his head, puff ball and all. It had been Eddie's. The beanie. But Eddie hadn't said a word about the gloves, scarf, and hat he'd left in Billy's locker after he had noticed that the boy from California didn't have clothes suited for Indiana winter.
"Don't do it, Billy," Eddie laughed.
"Do what? I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Billy said back, casual as he took a step closer.
It happened, in a crash of flailing limbs and shrieking laughter. Billy saw Eddie for the first time. He saw the bright smile that was punctuated by dimples on either side. He saw the way Eddie's fuzzy hair fanned out in the snow as he was dumped into the snow bank, and god he couldn't help but notice the way flakes stuck in his eyelashes. His cheeks and ears red from the cold; Eddie wasn't wearing gloves, a hat, or a scarf. He'd given up his warm clothes to keep Billy warm.
And that sure made something inside Billy warmer than the sun in California ever could.
It was mid January when a knock resonated number 12 at the forest hills trailer park. It brought Eddie out of dozing. The alarm clock read an ugly 2am back at him that made him groan.
He pulled himself up and out of bed as the knock grew more irritated and insistent, swiping his hands down over his tired face.
"Jesus christ, I'm coming! Fucking relax!" He bellowed. Eddie shoved his feet into his slippers and shuffled to the front door, ripping it open.
"My hours end at 11 pm on week... nights..." the irritation in Eddie's voice gave way to a shocked whisper as he was met with a ghastly sight before him.
Billy Hargrove standing on his porch, braced against the side of the trailer to stop any swaying. It looked like he had bruises littering half of his face, and Eddie imagined it was worse, with the way the bruises on his neck seemed to bloom down under his jacket.
"Hey," Eddie whispered, unsure if he could say more. When he reached to push a curl out of Billy's face, the man flinched like Eddie was about to put a knife to his throat.
Instead, Eddie put his hand on Billy's shoulder and guided him to come inside.
That was the night that Eddie learned about Neil Hargrove. It was the same night that Eddie slept, curled around Billy. Like he could protect him.
Billy slept with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone, sinking into the scents of cinnamon and cigarette smoke. Eddie was warm, and even though he was more elbows and knees than plush and soft... Billy felt like he fit perfectly with his head tucked under Eddie's chin. Eddie gave good hugs. Great hugs even. Enough of them that Billy felt drunk on the scent of cinnamon and the comfort of his best friend's arms.
They continued as best friends for a long time. Until the Tragedy of Starcourt. Nobody called Eddie. Nobody had thought to at first, really. With the chaos and the news of Russians under the mall— not to mention how the last week or two, Billy had been avoiding Eddie like he was a Germ.
"Get the fuck away from me—"
"Stay away from me Munson."
"Get the fuck out of my face."
"I won't warn you again, if you come near me, I'll break your fucking neck."
Eddie had been sulking about it. Well. More than sulking if he was honest. Had he cried on Wayne's shoulder? Absolutely. Did he get a speeding ticket on his way to the hospital once Max had called him? Absolutely.
Eddie stood in the doorway of Billy's hospital room, looking in on his best friend like the universe had put a knife through his heart. Billy looked barely alive. Fragile.
Eddie was one of the very few visitors that Billy got. Neil Hargrove hadn't shown his face once. Max had told him in a hushed voice that he had packed his things to leave town. Billy was a hero for saving so many people in the mall fire, and Neil still hated him. Didn't want a disabled son.
Billy woke up alone. He wasn't surprised to wake up alone, in a hospital room without a single card on his bedside. Sure, he wasn't surprised... but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. It hurt like being cracked open from the inside out. A glaring statement that told Billy Hargrove:
'You don't matter.'
Even alone, Billy stifled his sobs so he wouldn't be noticed.
"Easy tough guy," the gentle voice came from the doorway, making Billy's heart jump up into his throat. Eddie came in with the nurses, who checked his vitals and pain levels. But Billy barely noticed them. He was focused on the boy whose smile cleansed the tar clinging to his heart.
"Thought I told you to piss off," Billy snorted through his tears, managing a shaky smile.
"I've never been good at listening," Eddie replied, rubbing his hand through Billy's bed messy curls. "Can't shake me that easy, sweetheart. I thought you'd have learned that by now. That grouchy bullshit isn't gonna shake me," he assured. Eddie was determined enough to stick out the hurricane.
"You're annoying," Billy spat at him, pushing his hand away.
"And I'm determined to continue to be," Eddie replied as he snatched Billy's wrist. He slid his hand up to lace their fingers and squeeze.
"Give it time," Billy said, seemingly unimpressed. He refused to look at Eddie, only because the idiot was gazing at him like he was someone precious.
"I've got time," Eddie replied, unshaken.
"Jesus, Munson, why don't you just— just leave me the hell alone?! Why are you always," Billy's breath hitched as his voice broke. Eddie was always there. Like a balm to his wounds. He didn't flinch when Neil beat him. He opened the door or answered the call no matter how late. Eddie Munson was a rock in the hurricane, ready to weather his storm.
Billy thought back to the memories El had shown him in that pit of darkness. His mother, the beach, the waves... and the snowy December day that Billy had fallen in love with Eddie Munson.
Billy didn't resist when Eddie placed his hand on his neck, thumbing his jaw like he was brittle. Fragile. And Billy supposed he was.
"God damn," Eddie whispered, smiling at Billy with tender eyes.
"What? Quit fucking looking at me like that. Like— like... pity. Jesus or like I'm gonna break. I don't need your bullshit sympathies, or your God damn coddling, Munson."
Billy felt like a wild animal, backed into the corner of a cage. Snapping and growling at the tender hands that wanted to hold him. Especially if that monster still lurked inside him somewhere. Ready to hurt.
That fear washed away when Eddie kissed Billy's knuckles, something soft. Endearing. Billy could only hitch a sob as his forehead thudded in to rest on Eddie's collarbone. He squeezed Eddie's hand, and to his relief... Eddie squeezed back. It felt a whole lot like someone saying:
'You matter. I love you.'
And for once, Billy wasn't afraid of it being a lie.
#mungrove#billy hargrove#eddie munson#mentions of abuse#abuse tw#neil hargrove is his own trigger warning#hurt/comfort#Billy Lives
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part One
CW: abuse, Steve’s dad is a dick, pain and blood is talked about, Steve thinks he deserves it, mentions of homophobia, not seeking medical attention right away, trying to tough it out, descriptions of the aftermath of abuse,
To everyone who wanted to be tagged in part two, I want to make it very clear that the vibe is much different here, at least in the first half. The angst wasn’t meant to come in yet, but here we are. 😅. It does have a good ending though!
Tag list: @estrellami-1 @hallucinatedjosten @gaelicblue @starman-jpg @halfadoginatank @messrs-weasley
2141 words.
He sniffled and carefully wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. It was probably too warm for the damned thing. That didn’t stop him from having the hood flipped up and the strings pulled tight with a dumb looking bow resting basically on his lip. The sunglasses hid most of the rest of his face while still allowing him to see.
Steve was trembling pretty badly as he knelt beside the headstone. His hands were so shaky that he splashed more water than he meant to. He let out a deep sigh, resisted the urge to wipe his face again, and started moving dirt and moss away.
Carefully, he slid the old plastic card beneath the debris and pushed it to the edge. It was easier when the mess was a little damp, easiest when he got to the cemetery after a good rain.
Rain wasn’t in the forecast.
His entire body ached.
He let that thought go and gave in to the work he was doing. Once all the gunk was to the side, he pushed the small pile completely off the stone. He flattened it down a little bit where it landed.
Another splash of water.
Steve grabbed the toothbrush out of his back pocket and gently started working the dirt out of the carvings of the name and dates. Small, slow circles were most of it. His shoulders begged him to stop.
He didn’t.
Another splash of water.
He pulled out a bandana, something that he had only recently started bringing with him. He swiped off the headstone carefully. This was as clean as he was going to be able to get it.
Slowly, he pressed two fingers against the first syllable of the name that he had just unearthed again.
“Hello, Minerva Hurts,” his voice cracked. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Steve had never met her, she had passed in 1894, but he had given her name back before.
His entire body was begging him to lay down and take a nap right there. Instead, he pushed himself to wobbly feet and stumbled back toward his car. He could still smell and taste blood, but he’d deal with that in a little while.
More accurately, he would find someone willing to help him take care of it later. When it was higher up his priority list. He started the car before gripping the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. Every time he accidentally breathed too deep, he felt a stabbing pain in his rib that he knew wasn’t a good thing. But, he had a promise to keep right now.
He had promised to go to Eddie’s and bake some cookies. He wouldn’t let something stupid, like trying to fight his dad, get in the way of him keeping his word. He let out a sob before starting the drive to the trailer park. Honestly, the older male was probably the only one he would let see him like this.
Having wounds from the Upside Down was a lot different from having his ass handed to him by an older male who was meant to protect him.
When Steve got to where he was going, he pulled his sleeves back down before turning off the car and putting the keys in his pocket. He adjusted his sunglasses before getting out and limping to Eddie’s front door. He knocked and waited, using all of his will power to not lean against the trailer.
About a minute later, Eddie was opening the door. “What? Ashamed to be seen with me?”
“You’re the one with the reputation to protect, Munson.” Steve’s voice shook slightly.
Eddie immediately moved out of the way to let him in. Steve stepped in, nearly falling on the two steps it took to get up. He closed the door behind himself so he could lean on it.
“You okay, big boy?”
Steve tried to smile at that. He really did. “I need to sit,” was his response.
Eddie followed him to the couch, fully prepared to catch a male who was practically his own height. The injured male sucked in a breath when he sat down, his hand going to his left ribs.
“Who’d you try to fight this time, Harrington?” Eddie was on his way to the freezer to see if there was anything that could be used as an ice pack. Frozen peas and a beer should do the trick.
Steve heard the footsteps stop when the older male took in the sight before him. He had taken off the sunglasses and the hood. His eye was bruised and swollen shut, his lip was split, and his nose might have still been bleeding, but the most shocking part was his hair. It had been shaved badly. There was a line of hair that was completely missed. There were a lot of short hairs sticking out everywhere, and lines of blood…
Eddie’s hands had tightened around the items he was holding until his knuckles were white. The can might have crunched slightly, but Steve’s flinch took him out of it.
“Who am I killing?” Eddie asked as he opened the beer and held it out for Steve. As soon as the drink was taken, he carefully put the bag of peas beside him on the couch. Eddie knelt beside Steve’s knee, looking up at the crying male and resisted the urge to try and touch him.
“My, uh.” Steve paused. “My mom said I looked pretty and I blushed, you know. I must have looked too happy about it.” He couldn’t look at the male whose couch he was currently sitting on. “My dad lost his shit. Said no son of his was going to be a fucking queer, and, uh. Well you see it.” His eyes closed. “Help me take off the sweater? I don’t think I can move my arms above my head again.”
Eddie did as he was asked as gently as he could after moving the beer to the coffee table. Steve hadn’t even taken a drink. He saw red when he saw how many bruises littered the younger male's body. Saw the cuts on his hands and arms.
“Well, you aren’t going back there.” His voice left no room for argument. “Not while he’s there. Other than that, you have complete say in how to… handle this. But I’m not letting you leave. Not tonight.”
Steve sagged back against the couch and let his head fall back.
“Nope. You aren’t tilting your head back with a bloody nose, either.”
The injured male grunted, but he did listen.
“Thank you. I’ll be back with some stuff to get you cleaned up.”
Steve grunted again. Then softly, he asked a question that he never could have imagined asking before all of this. Not even in his wildest dreams. “Would you… finish shaving my head?”
Eddie’s face crumpled. Everyone knew how important Steve’s hair was to him.
“Yeah, yeah I can.”
—
Steve was as cleaned up as he was going to get without going to the hospital. The worst of his injuries were bandaged, he had an Ace bandage wrapped around his ribs, and bags of frozen peas. Eddie had let him borrow some clothes.
He felt weird in sweats and an Iron Maiden shirt, but he was grateful that they fit. That he didn’t have to go home. At some point, he had taken Eddie’s hand and intertwined their fingers when he wasn’t met with any objections. They were watching something on TV, though that was more turned on just so Steve would have an excuse to not have to talk.
He had never been more grateful to Eddie than he was right now. He was about to say something when he heard a car pulling up and he squeezed his friend’s hand tighter.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay, big boy. It’s just my uncle.”
Steve let out a shaky breath and nodded. “He’s, uh. He’s going to be okay with me being here?”
“He’s used to me taking in strays.”
Steve laughed, then groaned and took his hand back to hold his ribs. “Asshole.”
“You know you love me.”
Steve was trying to figure out how to respond to that, blushing and smiling, when the door opened.
“Steve,” Wayne greeted with a nod.
“Wayne,” he replied softly.
The older male took in the sight in front of him and hummed in thought. He didn’t say anything, he just went to the kitchen and started taking stuff out of the bag that he had brought in with him. The microwave started and Steve looked at Eddie.
“He’s gonna be staying with us awhile,” Eddie informed his uncle without preamble.
“Good. He should.”
“Thank you.”
“Hmm.”
Steve wanted to take Eddie’s hand again, but he didn’t dare. Not with an adult in the house. Eddie seemed to be able to read his thoughts because next thing he knew, they were holding hands again and Steve felt himself relax again.
Wayne brought three tv dinners to the coffee table before sitting down on the couch, leaving Eddie in the middle.
“I’m not the type to make a fuss,” Wayne started. “But you aren’t going back to that house alone. I’ll go with you to get your stuff tomorrow and you’re going to stay with us. And that’s the end of it.”
“You’re getting soft,” Eddie teased with a grin.
Wayne just hummed. They all ate in silence and the only thing that Steve felt right now, the pain not included, was gratitude.
—
Steve was grateful that he had an adult with him when he got home the next day. Wayne followed him in and up to his room before standing outside the door with his arms crossed.
Steve’s mom was crying and his dad was yelling. Wayne didn’t react other than to make sure Steve was alone to gather what he needed without being hurt again.
After about fifteen minutes, he had everything he needed in a duffel bag and a couple of boxes. His mother helped him by taking a box. Wayne took the duffel bag, and Steve was left with the lighter box to carry.
“I’m not paying you to steal my boy.” There was venom in that voice that had Steve whimpering.
“I don’t need your money, Harrington.”
His stuff was put in the pickup bed. He hugged his mom who slipped him something and kissed the side of his face that had less injuries.
“I love you, Stevie. I’m sorry it turned into this.”
“Me, too, mom.”
He got in the truck and buckled up before looking out the window, away from his father.
Wayne got in as well after a few minutes, then they drove in silence. It was surprisingly comfortable.
Eddie had a Hellfire thing that Steve had refused to let him reschedule.
“Oh, um. Happy birthday by the way.” Steve said when they got back to the trailer.
“Thanks, kid.”
Steve smiled small before getting out and grabbing some stuff to bring it in. Wayne helped him get everything into Eddie’s room before humming and walking away.
Steve sat on the bed and opened the envelope that his mother had given him. Inside was the title to the car that he had been driving, and a lot of money. Way too much. His heart was pounding quickly as he stood up and went back to the living room. Wayne was sitting on the couch with a beer. Steve sat beside him and took a breath before handing him all the money that was in the envelope.
“I can’t take this.”
“Mom gave it to me.”
“It’s yours.”
“But… I’m going to be staying with you.”
Wayne looked at him. “One hundred bucks a month. Absolutely nothing more. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
—
Eddie was helping Steve clean headstones. His long hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Steve’s own hair was a few inches long.
It had been months of them spending every night in the same bed. They still did their own thing a lot during the day. But at night, there were lots of hushed conversations and giggles until sleep overtook them.
Steve was falling. Hard. But he wasn’t going to say anything. Not when all they’ve done was hold hands and cuddle.
“I have something I need to tell you,” Eddie said after a few moments of silence.
Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah? What it is.”
“I’ve been going at your pace this whole time. I was going to wait until you were ready. But I need you to know that I really want to kiss you, big boy.”
“Come here, then,” he said without hesitation.
Eddie wiped his hands on his bandana before turning toward the younger male, gently cupping his face, and pressing their lips together.
#stranger things#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie stranger things#steve stranger things#steve x eddie#steddie fanfiction#Steve’s dad is a dick#mentions of abuse#the aftermath of abuse#wayne munson#I love Wayne Munson#protective Munson’s#Steddie’s first kiss#slowandsteddie
297 notes
·
View notes
Note
can you make an erasermic x reader or just an erasermic one-shot?
I'll try my best 😄
Hope you enjoy as always have a good day!
Warning: mentions of abuse
Erasermic x reader
You walk into U.A high to start your first day as a teacher. You take a deep breath as you walk into the teachers lounge and look around to see a couple pro heros you recognize from the news.
"this is awesome" you think to yourself as you head towards the coffee maker.
You see a grumpy older man with black long hair and a tired expression drinking coffee. as a spunky man with blonde hair tries to negotiate something that you don't quite understand.
you grab some coffee and go to grab creamer as you see the black haired man is blocking it. But you being you are to shy to ask him to move.
The spunky blonde man looks at you and smiles looking back at the black haired man. "Sho your blocking the creamer" he says and winks at you causing you to blush slightly
"your so annoying" the black hair man says as he moves
"Th..thx" you say quietly.
"no problem!" He says warping a arm around aizawa.
You look at them and smile "support" you say happily.
"huh?" The blonde hair says clearly confused.
"oh sorry you guys just reminded me of a old married couple" you say awkwardly.
The blonde hair man thinks for a minute "she thinks where married...and old apparently" the black haired man says.
The blonde haired man laughs "oh that's what you meant. Well where not married but we are dating"
"oh my bad sorry" you say nervously
"Nah don't worry about it" the blonde smile's
"Your the new teacher here correct?" The black haired man asks
"yeah the names y/n".
"well I'm Hizashi and the is shota" the blonde man smiles
"....wait..... I recognize you guys you guys are Eraserhead and present mic right?" You say happily
"Yes that's us" shota says slightly annoyed
"I'm honored to meet you two. But I should get going"
"See ya later cutie!" Hizashi says and winks at you again.
You blush furiously and leave the room accidentally leaving your coffee behind.
"You need to stop flirting with strangers Hizashi" shota says sighing
"what you jealous?" Hizashi asks smugly
"in your dreams" shota walks out of the room
Later that day your lounging around the couch in the teachers lounge grading history papers. "Being a teacher is so freaking hard" you sigh to yourself.
"Tell me about it"
You look up to see shota leaning on the back of the couch with a coffee cup in hand staring down at you.
"Oh, hi shota"
you sit up so you can see him better.
"you know this room isn't your living room right?" Shota looks at you slightly annoyed.
"yeah I know.. but this place is so much more relaxing then my place so I thought I could grade papers here"
"How is school more relaxing then your own home" shota gives you a perplexed look.
"um..."
" there you are sho!!" You hear someone yell from behind shota.
"I wasn't aware you where looking for me" shota sighs as Hizashi leans over the back of the couch to look at you his hair dangling into your face.
"let them breath Hizashi" shota gives Hizashi a stern look.
"they don't seem to mind" he smiles and he nods towards you who is playing with his hair.
You pause as you notice what you're doing. "I am so sorry" you quickly apologize.
"nah I don't mind. It feels good actually" Hizashi smiles as shota rolls his eyes.
You blush slightly and smile "I...I can counting if you want"
"it's up to you" he ruffles you hair then looks at shota to discuss teacher stuff as you play with his hair.
The next day you arrive at the school pretty early.
"i hope I'm not to early" you say to yourself as you walk into the teachers lounge.
As you pass by a mirror you see a bruise on your face.
"shoot it actually bruised." You sigh. "That bastard. I hope no one notices"
"You hope no one notices what?" You hear shota say as you jump to face him .
"Sh..shota I didn't see you there"
"clearly" he responds and looks at your cheek which has a bruise on it.
"what happened?" He says there's a certain sternness to his voice which scares you.
"Um... nothing happened I'm fine" you say nervously covering your bruise.
"that bruise says otherwise" he moves your hand so he can see the bruise.
"it's from my dad." You sigh
"your dad?" He asks as he looks at you anger boiling up inside of him.
"mhm...he got a little drunk last night." You look away.
"that's no excuse to hit his child" He almost shouts
"hey guys what are you talking about" Hizashi walks in and pauses after seeing the bruise on your face.
"Omg y/n what happened!?" He runs to you and inspects the bruise on your face.
"My dad go a little drunk but I'm fine really" you force a smile.
"I want to meet your dad" aizawa says sternly.
"it's fine shota really"
"it's not at all fine" Hizashi says hugging you.
You pause as he hugs you but after a minute hug him back. Burying you face into his chest.
"Thx" you whisper
After work you waln towards your house with the two pro heros following close behind you protectively.
"You guys really sure you wanna do this?"
"Of course we are" Hizashi gives you a reassuring smile and ruffles your hair. You look at shota who just nods.
"okay if you're sure" you shrug
As you approach your house you pull out a spare key and unlock the door.
"dad I'm home!" You call out
"the hell took you so long"you hear your dad grumble from the living room.
"I ..i brought some guests...they want to talk to you" you fidget nervously as you walk towards the living room.
Your father looks at shota and Hizashi. "Aren't these those two pro heros you can girl over so freaking much?" Your father asked madly.
"uh...yes" you whisper looking down scared but also trying to hide your blush.
Hizashi puts his hand on your shoulder.
"I'd like to talk to you about the way you've been treating y/n" aizawa says clearly holding back anger
"what the hell did you tell them!?!!" Your father yells at you and you step back.
"I suggest you shut up" shota says glaring at your dad.
Hizashi looks at you. "Let's wait outside while sho handles to is okay?" He says and you nod following him outside the house.
You both sit in silence. Hizashi speaks up and breaks the silence. "So your a fan girl?" He says smugly while smiling.
"uh..i...maybe?" You say blushing furiously.
Hizashi laughs "I can see why I am pretty impressive"
"And cocky" you say smile.
"that what sho's always telling me.
You smile you see police cars pull up to the house.
"uh...Hizashi why are the police here?"
Shota walks out of your house with your father in his capture scarf.
"I'll kill you!!" Your father yells at you as he struggles to break out of shota's capture weapon.
"Shut it" aizawa snaps at him and your father stays quiet as the police arrest him.
You all sit in silence. "Now what?" You aks looking at the both of them.
Hizashi's face lights up "you should come live with me and sho!"
You look at shota who smiles "sounds good to me" he responds and ruffles your hair.
A couple hours later you able it to there house and look around.
"welcome home cutie!" Hizashi smiles as you blushing.
"enough with the flirting" shota sighs
Omg this took so freaking long to make but I enjoyed it so much kinda made it up as a I went along so yeah bye~
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay but like Billy Hargrove, right.... We all know his dad sucks ass, but like, comforting Billy after his dad beat him..... Breaks me, but like also like the fluff of it is just Eeeeee. Ya know?
_______________________________________________
TW: wounds, abuse mentions, lack of self worth. Slight reference to readers trauma.
G/N reader, sure the man is cannonly straight, but I do it for the girls, the gays, and the theys, and everything in between.
------------------------------------------------------------
You enter his room and see him sitting on his bed, head in his hands with cuts and bruises covering his exposed skin you slowly walks over to him, brushing his hair out of his face, speaking softly "hey, what happened to you?" All he could do was look at you, tears starting to form in his eyes. Your lips make contact with his forehead as a form of comfort "it was your dad wasn't it?" You asked, and he nodded the tears spilling out.
His breathes are shaking, as he tries to keep in sobs. No one had ever seen him so vulnerable no one but you. You somehow managed to become something more than just a stranger in a small town. He couldn't manage to figure out just how you slipped between the walls he put up around his heart but there you were, he would never say but he wished your kisses meant more than comforting him. That you holding him was more than pity.
He wished that you loved him more than a friend. You gave him something he thought he could never have, someone to turn to in time of need. Someone to lean on when he felt he couldn't stand. Someone who'll care for him, and love him despite his flaws.
He always told himself he didn't deserve you. He knew he didn't. But yet you were still there by his side holding him close. "Let's get you cleaned up, hmm?" You whisper softly to him, you knew that he had been yelled at earlier and didn't want to make things worse.
_______________________________________________
you came back with a first aid kit and had been disinfecting the cuts, and putting bandaids on them if it was needed, you also took the time to make sure his bone weren't broken. He'd wince every now and again, and everytime you'd apologize. It made his heart swell, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for you, you never once hesitated to come to his aid, no matter how late, or how tired you were. He wondered how many nights you'd stay awake just in case he needed you.
He couldn't bare the thought of you losing sleep because of him, he didn't understand why he fell so easily for you, maybe it was the way you never once treated him any less than a person. Or the sarcastic comments you'd make when he was flirting with you. Or the way you didn't put up with his bullshit twords you, if you didn't like how he treated you, he'd get an earful without hesitation.
There was so much he loved about you, he thought you were undeniably beautiful. Regardless if you thought it yourself.
"Hey, you doing okay?" Your voice broke him out of his thoughts, he looked at you, the concern that filled your gaze made any tensed muscles in his body immediately relax , and his heart melt. His voice came out soft and broken as if he tried to talk to loud he'd cry again. "yeah" and the way you smiled at him, god your smile never failed to make warmth spread through his chest, up his neck, and to his face.
"You know when I heard your voice over the phone.... I wanted to kill him.." You spoke, He had called you, he always did after it got bad, every time his voice would shake and crack, trying not to break right then and there. He felt a sort of guilt run through his veins.
You felt hurt for him, when he didn't want to bare the emotion, you did, when he didn't want to bare the pain, you'd take it, when the weight became too much, you'd lift it off him. He never asked you to, he couldn't ever do that, but you still did, no matter how fucked up things got for you, you never stopped helping him.
That fact alone broke his heart.... You got up and set the first aid kit on his nightstand "do you still have the bag?" You asked gently fixing his hair. He nodded slowly "yeah, I do..." All you did was grab his hands gently, and pull him up, you both knew that he willing let you because if he didn't you wouldn't have been able to move him.
He grab the bag he kept stashed away in his closet, he had it for when he needed to get away, he never stayed away long because of Max. He'd never say it to her face but he really did care about her well-being.
------------------------------------------------------------
He found himself in the passenger seat of your car, his bag in the backseat. He would have taken his but the engine would have given him away. He was tapping his fingers on his thighs trying to focus on the road ahead. The car was silent other than the radio playing softly.
He felt your hand slide into his, which made him look at you. With a quick smile, you looked back at the road. He held your hand as if he was scared that when he let go, you'd be gone. You felt the tightness of his grip, it didn't hurt by any means, you felt your heart flutter at the way he clung to you even if it was only holding your hand.
You could never understand why he looked at you the way he did, but you were grateful that he trusted you enough to let you see the side of him that he kept tucked away. That he felt safe enough with you to cry, you knew that it was hard to do that and though seeing him so broken made your heart ache, it also made you so happy to know he'd let himself be vulnerable with you. You finally broke the silence, "you can stay in my room tonight if you want...." You're heart was pounding in your head, you'd be lying to yourself if you said that giving him that option didn't make you nervous. What if it made him uncomfortable.... You felt his grip falter just for a second.
"I'd like that.... If you're sure you're okay with it" his voice was just loud enough to hear. "I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't okay with it" you said, though within a certain perspective some might say that the words that you just spoke were talking down to him. He found them as words of reassurance, telling him you'd never do something that you didn't want to, that caring for him was something you genuinely wanted to do with your time. He found himself falling deeper into love with you with every little moment you shared.
He didn't even realize he was doing it till the back of your hand met his lips. The second he realized what he had done, he glanced over at you, frantically searching for any sigh of discomfort. But all he found was a soft smile displayed upon your lips. He felt your hand flex slightly, giving him a soft squeeze of confirmation that you were okay with his actions.
He pressed his lips further against your skin. Enjoying the smoothness against his mouth. The warmth coming off of you. When he pulled your hand back from his lips, he glanced at you again, though it was dark he could see the rosey color that had adorned your features, the smile that had grown wider, the soft twinkle of appreciation in your eyes as you focused on the road. You had finally reached your driveway, after all you didn't live very far. You didn't let go of his hand until you both got out of the car. He made sure to grab his bag from the backseat before getting out, once the car was locked you slid your hand back in his.
------------------------------------------------------------
He had set his bag on the floor of your room, he always love being in it. Surrounded by well.... You... The posters, the comic books, the drawings, the photos, the figurines, the vinyls, the plushies. He even loved the scattered books that you forgot to put away, or the unorganized makeup on the vanity. Even the random trinkets that sat in your windowsill. He has so many memories of late nights he spent with you, even if the reason he was there sucked ass, he loved being with you.
#stranger things#billy hargrove#fluff#billy hargove x reader#daddy issues#comfort#soft boy hours#reverse comfort#slight angst#mental illness#mentions of abuse#trauma#strangers to friends#friends to lovers#mentions of death#mentions of violence#william hargrove#x reader#author#fan fiction#fanfic#reading#reader insert#gn reader
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fragments (Dabi x reader)
Pairing : Dabi x fem! reader
words: 1.9K
Genre: Angst
Content warning : Toxic relationships/unhealthy relationships, arguments, alcohol use, smoking,angst,mentions of abuse, swearing, mentions of violence,pregnancy,mature/adult themes,no clear spoliers except you squint really hard,manupilation(if you squint). Minors DNI
Summary: All that's left of your relationship were tiny fragments, tiny little fragments you were trying to put back together yet even you were reaching your limit.
Songs to set the mood: Been like this by Doja cat / I hate everything about you by three days grace. If you have your own playlist,it's fine as well!
A/N: I was in a angsty mood and this came up so suffer or enjoy whichever. I also used the British past tense of burn cause that's what I use. I view the reader as female but I don't think gender was stated here so do with that what you wish
You sat there on the cold tiled floor as your back was leaning on the kitchen wall. You covered your face with your trembling tear stained hands. Your eyes were red and puffy and your head was throbbing. Your body was worn and weary from all the crying that you could no longer let out a proper sob. You let out a shaky sigh as you were terribly exhausted. This wasn't new to you, you were used to situations like this, often times you'd lock yourself in the bathroom hugging yourself and sobbing uncontrollably until he calmed down. It wasn't like it was an uncommon occurrence .All couples fought at some point in their relationships,it was always bound to happen
but damn, this was the fifth time this week.
You folded your legs under your thighs in a cross-legged fashion kicking a ceramic shard in the process. That was your brand new plate you got for 20% off at the store
or at least what was left of it.
You scanned the kitchen carefully, taking in the blatant state of complete disarray. Broken plates and cups flooded the room ,chairs toppled over and one of the table's legs had come off, knocking it off balance. you had to replace the good as damaged piece of furniture the next time you went shopping. As saddened as you were,a small part of you was grateful he didn't burn the place down with his quirk.You knew very well what he was capable of and you wouldn't stand a chance with your subpar quirk. You could turn small items into powder. It couldn't be used against people or animals and it wouldn't work on anything larger than small notepad.You wouldn't want to call it useless as it has helped you quit the number of times but you knew it couldn't hold a candle to your boyfriend's flame quirk.
You grimaced as you heard a blunt being lit in the next room followed by the clanging of bottles from the cabinet. His usual routine after a fight like this, you could count the number of times you had told him to stop but he'd always snap at you so you gave up trying. It helped him keep calm since he couldn't burn the place down. He had never raised his hand against you,something you were once again grateful for but he almost burnt you with his quirk.Almost. It was just that one time and he apologized. That was what you kept telling yourself. Dabi did indeed apologize and he went above and beyond to make it up to you both physically and emotionally,in more ways than one.
"Y/N"
your train of thought was disrupted as you heard him call your name,you were so deep in thought that you didn't even notice him come in. You stood up from the kitchen floor abruptly and dusted your skirt. He stood there towering over you with a cigarette between his middle and pointer finger and a rocks glass on the same hand.
"Y-yes" you stuttered trying so hard to fix your composure but failing woefully.
"Get out" He said plainly and clearly
"what?"
You stared on in disbelief ,your lips parting slightly gripping the hem of your shirt tightly , tears long and forgotten threatened to repeat their cycle.
"Don't make me repeat myself"
"B- But Dabi I live here,I paid for this place "
He had moved in with you a couple of months ago after you insisted. Although he wasn't always around due to his work in the league,he did stop by and sleep over. He deemed it unnecessary seeing as he already stayed a couple of nights and slept in your bed. You said you just wanted to feel closer to him so you urged him to move all his belongings here
"Fine , guess I'll leave" He stormed out of the small building, slamming the door in the process.
The sobs came out naturally and the salty tears like the gushing waters of Niagara falls. where did it all go wrong?.Oh you wanted to fix this so badly but what more could you do?.
You used to be so happy together,so,so normal. But now everything was all in shambles. All you had done was call him out on his secrecy and urged him to be more open and honest with you. you knew he was hiding something about himself. Instead of being calm and understanding he snapped at you and this led to a full on world war 2 in your kitchen
You leaned your back against the wall and slid down to the floor. You let yourself cry once more but now with less restraint. You sobbed,sniffiled and whimpered until nothing came out. You don't know how long you sat there but you were sure hours had past. You couldn't properly tell as it had already been dark out long ago. You couldn't do this anymore,you loved Dabi with all your heart as strange as it was. You don't know what exactly attracted you to the raven haired villain.Whether it was his bad boy persona or the undeniable urge you had to "fix" him, you could never tell. But love works in strange ways. That's why it was hard for you to do this but you had to end this. For your sake and theirs
Gathering the last ounces of strength, you had left in you,you stood up from the floor,stumbling slightly. You walked into your shared bedroom and pulled out a black duffel bag from the closet drawer by the door. You took every item of clothing he owned and hurriedly folded them into the bag. Knowing him,he probably wouldn't be back till the next day or week,it was impossible to predict. But either way it gave you enough time to prepare yourself. You didn't know how he was going to take this but you had to stand your ground,you weren't going to take this lying down.
And just like that as if fate was trying to play some cruel sick joke on you,the door flung open and Dabi came sauntering into the bedroom.
"Listen Y/N I-"
You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him looking like a deer caught in headlights , clinging desperately to the black t-shirt you held in your hands. He looked you over,carefully processing what was going on. He narrowed his sapphire eyes and clenched his fists tightly
"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked surprisingly calm
"Dabi,I'm tired. I can't do this anymore. I'm done" you managed to let out
Just as that was said,he let out a warped hysterical laugh. A look of fear in accordance with pure confusion was evident on your face.You always knew your boyfriend was off his rocker but you weren't expecting him to react this way. Your lips were quivering and a chill ran up your spine.He calmed down and wiped the non-existent tears from his stapled eyes.
"You know what's funny? I came back all the way here to apologize and this is how you repay me"
"Dabi,I'm serious,we can't do this with you anymore" You finally found your voice once more although it didn't come out as assertive as you wanted it to.
" Wait,we? The fuck are ya talking about"
"I-" you paused.
You had managed to hide this for a span of two weeks now. He'd been going in and out lately so it made it a lot less tasking to conceal it. But now it seemed futile to keep this up any longer especially since he was putting you on the spot like this
" Dabi I" you exhaled
"Dabi I'm pregnant"
His face visibly softened when you told him that. He stared blankly at you as if you had grown a second head. You glanced at him when he hadn't said anything,his silence made you apprehensive. It wasn't something that was planned so it wouldn't surprise you if he was upset. You could have sworn you had used protection but alas these things do fail.
"Wait,are you serious?" He asked,forehead creased
"Yes,I am" you avoided his questioning gaze
What he had done next after had shocked you. He pulled you into a warm embrace. His charred hands combed through your strands of hair.
"I'm so happy,this is good news" His voice was muffled as he had buried his face on your shoulder
"Wait,what?"
"I said I'm happy Y/n,this is good news"
"No,I heard what you said,I'm just surprised that you're not upset"
"Why would I be upset?,you're carrying my kid in you"
You broke out of his embrace and stared at him with your eyebrows furrowed. You were confused as to who this man was and what he had done to your rather abrasive boyfriend
"Hey earth to Y/n" he waved his hand in front of your face
You gave him a hard look before glancing around the room like a patient with amnesia. Your eyes caught the half-open duffel bag that lay long forgotten on the floor. It was then that you recalled what had brought you to the bedroom in the first place .If he thinks you'd sweep that under the carpet then he had another thing coming.
"Babe,are you OK?. You look tense" he spoke up when you hadn't said anything casting you a worried look.
"Dabi,I'm glad that you're happy about this whole pregnancy and all but that doesn't erase what's going on. Having a baby doesn't make this situation suddenly resolved,we still need to end this"
The look he had given you was one you had never seen before. It was a perfect blend of remorse,anxiety,sadness and you could could have sworn you saw fear in the mix.Nothing like the scowls he had given you that night
"I know I haven't been the best boyfriend lately and I know I've done nothing but fuck things up but please give me a chance" he had reached out a hand to you and placed it on your shoulder but you shrugged it off
" Dabi,shit isn't that easy,I've given you more chances then I could conceivably count. You've gotten even more aggressive than usual lately and it's concerning. I can't keep placing myself in this kind of toxic environment,it's not healthy for me or the baby"
Your back was turned away from him now.If he kept staring at you like that, you might change your mind. His broken expression made you want to run into his warm embrace and break down right there but you knew better than that.
"Y/N, come-come on let me fix this"
"No Dabi,you've done more than enough" You said bitterly looking down in regret
" OK Y/N,i know this is probably a joke and you got me good,I won't lie. Now stop playing around,I get it"
His forced chuckle made you grimace,he was being persistent and this was making it harder for you.
"Dabi,look if you don't leave then I'm afraid I have to"
You made your way over to the closed closet to pick out your clothes, passing over the discarded duffle bag on the floor. Before,you could fling the closet doors open,you felt a tight hug on your waist from behind. You wanted to protest,to shove him away from you but you knew he was stronger than you,so you just stood there. Dabi was never the clingy type so his actions made you perplexed but not as perplexed as the words that left his mouth not long after
"Please don't leave me,Don't take everything away from me,just like-just like they did"
what exactly did he mean by that?. His words made you further realize how little you truly knew about your villain boyfriend. He had never spoken of anything like this .But then again,he never spoke about himself or his past. That was part of the various reasons why you were even in this situation in the first place.This was definitely out of character for him so you wanted to press further
"Dabi, who is they? what are you talking about?"
"They took it all away from me,my life,my childhood. It was "his"fault,he did it to me. Please don't treat me like he did. Please you're all I have,you're the only person who could ever love me" He kept pleading keeping whoever he was talking about in question anonymous.
You had never seen him like this,it broke you to say the least. And just as if a fragile cord had snapped inside your brain,you let tears flow out once more that night,returning the villain's embrace. He sounded so distressed and you couldn't take this any longer. You weren't sure whether it was the hormones or a genuine sympathetic response that made you lose your resilience,but all you knew was you wanted to hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright.
"No Dabi I won't" *sniff*" I won't leave you" what were you thinking?,he needed you,you couldn't just leave him.
"Really?" He broke apart and gave you a crestfallen look.
"Yes Dabi.Really. We can work something out this time" you stroked his cheeks, devoid of skin and replaced by open flesh and staples.
His little rants had deeply concerned you but you knew you would have to pry about it some other time.
He dove back into your arms and squeezed you tightly,not enough to hurt you but it was still a tight grip. You returned his embrace and leftover tears fell from your eyes as you smiled.
" I promise you,you won't regret it" The staples near his cheeks rose as his lips formed a malevolent smirk
" You won't regret it at all"
#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#dabi x reader#reader is afab#tw toxic relationship#unhealthy relationships#alchohol tw#smoking#mature theme#adult themes#mentions of abuse#tw swearing#dabi x y/n#my hero fanfic#my hero academia x reader#pregnant reader#dabi x you#dabi#pregnancy#manupulation#dabi x pregnant reader
222 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rocky x Socialite!Reader Headcanons
Hello my friends, I have more headcanons! CW for mentions of abuse, as your dad in this one isn't the nicest guy. Antways, please enjoy!
---------------------------------------------------
• Since the day you were born, you had everything you could possibly want.
• You were born into a rich family, and from day one your job had been to look pretty and keep the investors happy and entertained.
• Expensive outfits, exuberant parties, once-in-a lifetime opportunities and an amount of money a family of four could live off of.
• And good lord was it boring.
• Sure, it's a bit selfish to hate your perfect life, but that didn't mean you'd stop hating it!
• For everything one thing that went well, two more went horribly.
• No college education because you didn't need it, no relationships because it made you "less approachable."
• It didn't help you had to talk good about your father when he regularly beat you for disobeying him.
• Life was miserable, until you met Rocky.
• You don't even remember how you first met, but he was so kind to you.
• Sure, he was most likely insane, but he was breath of fresh air.
• Plus when the two of you became friends, he'd climb up to your window and help you escape that damned house!
• How could you not develop feelings for him?
• Sure, at first you thought of him more as a novelty, but now that you had spent time with him, you were genuinely in love.
• Turns out he felt the same, which you learned when he climbed into your room and sang you a love song.
• It's a shame father wasn't exactly... thrilled about this.
• Yeah, when he caught the two of you about to kiss, he damn near killed Rocky.
• You helped him get out the window, keeping him safe.
• You, however, were not. The next night, you escaped from your room and made your way to the place he worked at.
• He was there with his friends and colleagues as you walked in.
• Rocky almost lost it when he saw the bruises.
• You managed to calm him down, telling him it's just a sad part of your life, and although he wasn't happy, he tabled his arson plans for the time being.
• Rocky held you in his arms that night, and the of you had been officially together since.
• You started sneaking out to the Lackadaisy regularly, and before long you became a part of their big old family.
• It was so different from your own. It felt so good.
• Rocky did make occasional visits to your home when your father calmed down, just this time with no song to serenade you.
• He also snuck around the house a lot, apparently.
• Whenever he helped you sleep, he snuck out of the room while you were unconscious.
• You trusted him, though, and so you never questioned what he was doing.
• One of the people you knew from those fancy parties, Wick, was also at the Lackadaisy a lot and he... actually empathized with you?
• Not to mention he also started talking with Rocky.
• Eventually, you found out why.
• One night, while you were cuddled up in Rocky's arms at the Lackadaisy, your father burst down the door, demanding you come home with him.
• And you felt angry for the first time since, what, that asshole Dillon Abernathy?
• You stood up to him, and he did the only thing he knew he could do in a place full of criminals.
• He threatened to call the police on them and get rid of the Speakeasy for good.
• You were so confused when you saw Rocky's evil little smile, but then things made sense.
• Him and Wick approached your father, and had physical evidence that not only was he having an affair, but he was also embezzling funds!
• Apparently Rocky had been sneaking around looking for dirt on your father, and boy did he find some.
• With Wick backing Rocky up, your father ended up leaving in a huff.
• After, of course, Rocky made sure you could make your own decisions.
• You couldn't help but leap into his arms after the fact, which ended up causing both of you to crumble to the ground.
• You gave him a quick kiss, and you felt so free and happy.
• And that was enough for you.
#headcanon#lackadaisy headcanons#lackadaisy#lackadaisy cats#lackadaisy rocky#rocky rickaby#rocky rickaby x reader#mentions of abuse#cw abuse#lackadaisy x reader
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
《Muzan! F! Reader x Yan! Izana》
《CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD》
《WARNINGS!: kind of yandere, mentions of cheating, reader is a cheater, curse words, threats, reader is manipulative, crossover KNY x TR》
"Ah, Kibutsuji-san! What a pleasure to see you again-" Kisaki began, trying to talk to (Name) in a light hearted manner as he sat down, smiling at the (e/c) eyed girl who just glared at him, ignoring the white haired male who walked in after the tanned male.
"Who ever said you can talk to me? Kneel down and stay silent before I give you permission to talk to me, peasant. Don't ever look into my eyes without my permission." (Name) interrupted, voice bland but eyes glaring at the male in front of her, making the long haired male behind her step forward, before she raised a hand to stop him.
Kibutsuji (Name), a cruel and vile woman whose poison was like honey, who dressed extravagantly, showing her wealth and status constantly. Just like now, she was wearing a fine black kimono, decorated with red lilies and wearing elegant heels that went with her kimono, matching her (h/v) hair and (e/c) eyes. Her make up was excellent, showing off her features well.
"Haha... Okay..." Kisaki chuckled in a sort of weirded out, dejected kind of way. Fuckin weirdo.
"Hey, Kisaki. Who is this?" Izana asked, watching them with a blank face as (Name) took a glance at the dark skinned male, face making a disgusted expression.
"This woman right here is Kibutsuji (Name), one of the youngest millionaires and surprisingly not surprising, she runs a gang too. The reason I'm meeting with her today is for deal, in fact." Kisaki bitch face said, giving a fake smile as (Name) scoffed, crossing her arms as she scowled, Michikasu, or more known as Kokushibo, stepped forward and broke out a bokken.
"I'm not 'just' Kibutsuji (Name), one of the youngest millionaires. I am the leader of the current most dangerous gang, with 6 total units and over 150 members in each unit. In fact, I find almost pathetic that a rival gang was created in na attempt to defeat my own. They've been failing to do so in all of the years they've existed. My dear cousin is so pathetic. He's been switching the captains every time they fail." (Name) explained nonchalantly, putting her hand out as she talked with a bored face, making the dark skinned male focus on her sharp nails, noticing how the tips were a faint blue color, then bringing it back to the arm holder on her chair, before the male behind her cleared his throat, making everyone focus on him instantly. (Name) just rolled her eyes and sighed.
"What is it now, Kokushibo? Are we running late for an appointment or what." (Name) said, crossing her legs as she brought one hand up to her face.
"(Name)-sama, Akaza says that he's done with his task now. We'd better get back before Douma irritates him into breaking his jaw again." Kokushibi said simply, making (Name) roll her eyes sharply before standing up, her heels clicking loudly against the stone flooring as she ignored the stuttering the tanned male was doing.
"It was a waste of my time to believe that I would personally need to be here. Kokushibo, finish up here. I trust that you won't fail me." (Name) threatened, glaring at the taller from the corner of her eyes as he bowed, nodding his head before taking opening the door for her to escort her out to her car while Kisaki and Izana watched from a window. Kokushibo watched the car drive away before glaring at the window, going inside and sitting in front of them with a glare.
"Quit contacting (Name)-sama. She's far above filth like you. Her pure blood will not be tainted by you. Don't think of contacting her again. Now, what did you want to meet for?" Kokushibo said, glaring at them with a monotone face before allowing them to speak.
"Aren't you confident for just a servant? I bet you aren't even her favorite. We wanted to meet with your master for an alliance against Toman. Recently, we've heard that they've teamed up with that gang her cousin created. We just wanted to know if you wanted to join in a alliance to defeat them for good." Kisaki said, false grin finally falling as Izana stared at him with his creepy ass wide eyes and blank face. Kokushibo was a master at staring contests though so Izana lost.
Fucking loser.
"... As much as I hate to admit it, (Name)-sama would love for her cousin's pathetic gang to die. Fine. Only this once will I allow this transgression to occur. (Name)-sama hates those who are useless. In fact, because of it, she enjoys the third captain. If you kill him, I might let (Name)-sama even meet with you more. But that's only if you get rid of Hakuji Akaza."
"Such a disrespectful being shouldn't be allowed to be in her gang."
《Manila Future, Izana and (Name) engaged to be.》
Izana and (Name) were such an envious couple. With both looks and power, many of the underground were jealous of how great they were together, as the Emperor and Empress of the underworld.
Of course, (Name) knows that she doesn't actually mean shit about her vows.
'I swear till death do us part'? 'I'll love only you'? What kind of cringy shit was that? How do you think she managed to get so many under her foot? Even the child she held in her custody knew better.
(Name) Kibutsuji was a stone cold bitch. Any and all who fell for her traps knew that under any if her facades, she didn't give a single fuck who they were or what was wrong with them.
She just wanted soldiers who would do anything for her. Out of love or respect or fear, it didn't matter. Only those that would give up their lives for her no matter what happened to them would be rewarded. Just like Akaza.
Akaza is definitely her favorite, even if she doesn't act like it. But when you have a favorite, you have high expectations. And when those high expectations aren't met, you have to have a punishment ready.
To better someone, you need fear.
Anyone worthless is not needed.
Once Izana is no longer useful, she'd move on and find someone even more useful.
He doesn't matter in the end. He's just another fool who fell under a trap.
He'd understand that soon enough.
"Who was that?! Why are you acting like we're not married?!" Another day, another fit. Izana is slowly getting more useless. So, to not waste time, (Name) began to court another man from a top rising company.
Yes, she was married. But she wasn't going to be for much longer. Izana was just losing his mind, and when he loses his mind, he loses his respect. When he loses his respect, she gains it. And with every fit he has, she gains more followers.
She was playing a long game, but it was almost over, with her as the lone winner.
Everything she did, she did to make herself a higher authority. That's why she raised from a simple gang leader to the empress of the underworld. How she raised her parents company from good to exemplary.
And Izana was near useless now.
In fact, even she was surprised that she was still with him. If she left him, he'd lose everything he had. Just the fact that she thought to leave him made almost all find him pathetic. For the one who's been with him since high school to stay with him despite the embarrassment of his temper tantrums was humbling enough, but for even her to leave him?
It was honestly pathetic.
#tokyo revengers x female reader#yandere izana#Nagisa_666 works#izana kurokawa#kokushibo#kisaki tetta#michikatsu tsugikuni#mentions of other characters#mentions of abuse#crossover
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Darkside: Part 2
Part 1 Part 3 Part 4
Warning: mentions of physical torture and trauma, a somewhat grafic description of rape, blood, broken bones, violence... you get the idea. Please do not interact if any of those might be triggering for you. This is by far the roughest thing I’ve written on this website.
Tears and blood from the repeated banging of their head against the metal table mix on Villain's face, prickling the damaged skin, pooling around their head. The cold surface is the only soothing they can get, so they press their cheek against it, making an effort to steady their breathing and stop choking on air as Superhero thrusts into them. They are bent over the table, face down, and their hands tied.
One of Superhero's hands curls around Villain's neck, choking them enough to cut oxygen flow to their brain yet keeping them on the verge of consciousness. With the other hand on Villain's hip, they move back, giving the illusion of ending their torture before returning as brutal as ever. Villain's thighs crush against the rough edge, but they are grateful for any sensation that isn't their tormentor.
Villain manages to inhale some air when Superhero lets go of their neck, instead collecting their curls between his thick fingers, forcing them up as their back arches. It hurts their damaged body, but Villain presses one palm to the metal, attempting to dissociate the pain because it's everywhere. It encapsulates their entire being, consumes their mind, drowning and yet not granting them what they crave most right now - unconsciousness.
Digging their teeth into Villain's shoulder and earning a muffled cry from their lips, Superhero grins, satisfaction colouring their features as they lick the blood from the bite before bringing Villain's head back down with a loud bang against the table. Villain's stare is dazed, jaw clenched, lips pressed together to keep any sounds from escaping as Superhero finishes, finally detaching from their body and exiting the room.
Villain remains lying on the table for several moments before rolling over. They help themselves up with one hand, the other crooked from multiple fractures. Unable to step on their right foot, they collapse to the floor with a loud thud.
Hero's ears are ringing, fingers trembling with raging adrenaline. They struggle to click to close the video from the surveillance camera of the interrogation room of Superhero's headquarters.
It's the last stage of their "villain correction program". The stage not many lived to reach and none was able to endure. All of the previous torture and torment either led to their death before this or left them too maimed to survive the brutality. Hero cannot even imagine what Superhero and their gang would have done next to finally break Villain. Simply ending Villain's life seemed too merciful of an option for the sick bastard.
It takes Hero several minutes of motionless silence to collect themselves and wipe the tears from their face. They feel like the sky has come crashing down on their head, hellfire burning everything alive. At least, that's how they feel in their soul. The images from the video keep flashing in front of their mind's eyes, imprinted in their brain for eternity because they won't allow themselves to forget that. They have no right to forget that.
Shaking, Hero stands up, collecting their notebook and a small bag of necessary belongings. They thank god for their hacking skills because they did not have to break into the headquarters to uncover the truth. The security could've been better, but they weren't entirely sure they would walk out of that place without a reaction. To be in the same building and not confront the man they had worshipped for so long. The man who turned out to be a complete monster.
Hero takes several deliberate breaths, pressing their lips together to suppress the quiver that runs through them. They are seeing red, unable to decide whether they should go and murder Superhero or search for Villain first. Images keep flashing in front of their eyes - one of Superhero breaking Villain's foot with what looks like a medieval tool, one of him crushing Villain's hand with a hammer with two other people holding them down. Their colleagues. The people Hero approached to discuss the mysterious disappearances. They curse under their breath.
How could I be this blind?
They don't know. What Hero does know is where those people live and that they'll die soon enough. They cannot wait for the moment they'll get to cut Superhero's throat open. But right now, Villain needs them more. And they need to know that Villain is not alone.
With a last glance over the city, they start the engine of their motorcycle, leaving their past life behind, on to find Villain, help them heal and only then - return for revenge.
Part 1 Part 3 Part 4
Masterlist
Hi loves!
I'm not sure if you'd like me to continue this one. Do let me know if anyone is interested in another part.
Love,
Sunny
#hero and villain#villain x hero#hero/villain#requests open#hero#villain#tortured villain#mentions of abuse#villains and heroes#sex abuse#creative writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#whump#superhero#whumper#sunnynwanda
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
It happened all of a sudden.
Where millions of GAR troops were at different points of the galaxy, they were suddenly in a grey void like space.
Their faces pitch black except for scars or differences in appearance. Eyes pure white and armor their original phase one set and color. From the oldest to the youngest still alive they all stood there. It was strangely silent despite them all talking at once.
What was even more strange was the black crack splitting the ground and separating them from what looked like the Guard.
Similar to them, they had pitch black faces, and the differences shown in white with their eyes. Despite how many GAR troops there were, everyone could see as if they were standing in front. Almost like a Holo live recording on a Helmet comm.
The GAR was horrified to see scars or missing limbs marking their brothers on the other side of the crack.
It looked like one of the shiny Guards was holding on desperately to a batcher's hand, but the batcher just began to walk towards them. Pulling until the shiny Guard was forced to let go.
The shiny's eyes filled with red tears, the same as the color marking them. They cradled their hand to their chest and the tears spilled over. One of the other guardsmen stepped out of the flood of red and white. Pulling the shiny's attention to them, they lifted their arms in silent comfort. The shiny rushed to the other and was embraced into a tight hug. Armor creaking as the older Guard smoothed their hand into the shiny's short regulation hair.
The other GAR shiny turned to look and froze, seeing how hurt the other was. They tried to reach out to the other. Suddenly, another Guardsman surged to the front and rammed a riot shield into the shiny. This trooper a shiny themselves. The GAR shiny fell to the ground and the other GAR members stepped forward.
The Riot Shiny flinched at so many other GAR soldiers approaching. And that caused a chain reaction in the rest of the Guard. More Riot Troopers rushed out in defense of their shiny member, slamming their shield on the ground. Lining up on either side of the first Riot trooper as a show of support and comradeship.
This caused the heavy artillery Guards to follow, guarding the edges of the shield formation. Suddenly the ground rumbled and high vantage points appeared, allowing the Guard Sniper units to take aim. The rare Guard Enhanced all took positions behind the Riot Troopers with their own weapons in hand. The Guards with normal blasters each took a shoulder behind a Riot Trooper and aimed their weapons.
The massiff units all pushed the medics and soft shells behind them, aiming their blasters at those they could safely aim at. Medics had their makeshift packs at the ready for any who might get injured on their side. And soft shells aimed pistols around the Massiff Units to do the same as them.
And suddenly, everything was quiet again.
The GAR didn't know how to react to their Guard brother's sudden defensive formation. Not one Guard shook or looked hesitant to fire.
It was like time froze, as the bigger side tried to figure out what to do. Until Cody stepped forward. The Marshall Commander stepped as close to the group in red as they allowed. Freezing when one of the troopers aiming over another's shoulder took aim at him. He raised his hand to signal a halt when his own men stepped forward to defend him.
From behind the line of Riot shields came the Guard's own Marshall Commander. The scars of sith lightning scattered across the left side of the oldest Guardsman's face had Cody flinching. The eye was no where to be seen either, meaning he was blind in that eye.
Fox crossed his arms in front of his chest, feet spread to parade rest length, and tilted his head. Not a word left the Guard Commander as he stood in front of the GAR Commander. No one spoke really. One side waiting for their Commander's orders, the other too in shock to speak.
The other Commanders of the GAR stepped forward. And soon after the other leaders in the Guard did the same. One Guard had blonde hair. One had a severely damaged jaw and throat. One had stitches lining their whole body old wounds healed over. One had a missing leg, the air in its place matching the void around them. One had over regulation hair. One had a scar along their head and over an absent right eye. And One with no hair, with a massive burn scar on the left side of his face.
The GAR only knew of Thorn, the one with long hair, Stone, the one with the burn, and Thire, the one with the missing right eye and scar on the same side. The other four where unknown. Until Rex stepped forward.
"Ritz?" He asked, and his voice was almost too loud in the eery quiet of the void. The blonde Guard officer, a Captain, crossed their arms in a silent show of defiance. The other six officers all stood on either side of Fox in a show of support. Not one looked ready to back down. Neither did the rest of the Guard despite their smaller size.
"Vod'ika. Why are you all doing this?" Cody finally asked the question the rest of the GAR had been thinking.
"You abandoned me and my men. So we're just doing what's necessary to defend what we have left. Who we have left. And I'm not your Vod'ika. The only Ori'vod'e I have is Chemi and Stitches. You aren't either of them." The Guard Commander snarled and the mentioned 'Ori'vod'e' both stepped forward on either side of Fox. Chemi was the one with the mangled jaw and throat, while Stitches was the one with a stitched up appearance.
The 212th and 501st CMOs rushed forward suddenly.
"JACOB!" "STITCHES!"
Helix shouted a different name than Kix, yet it was a name the 212th recognized almost immediately. Jacob had been the second in command of the 212th medical bay near the start of the war. But once General Skywalker was made a General, he was sent back to Kamino and was never seen again.
Stitches had been the new and first CMO of the 501st's name. And the man had been sent in once again to Kamino, he was also never again seen.
Only this time he wasn't reconditioned.
Said CMO of the Guard didn't even flinch when his name was shouted, though he was secretly confused by the first name. Both blue and gold CMOs froze when the Captain, Ritz, shot forward and shielded the red CMO. A snarl of a protective riduur marking his scratched up face.
The void rumbled again and Stitches had someone peeking out from behind him. This clone was inverted to the medic. Black eyes and stitches with a white appearance. A malicious smile was marking this clones face, but it wasn't towards the Guard. No it was towards the GAR. The Guard knew who this clone was. Freakshow. The Guard CMO's darker personality.
Helix hissed at the inverted clone and the other just giggled darkly.
"You bastard! I thought you finally left him alone!" Helix roared and the inverted clone's smile faded away.
"Because I was too Independent at the time, here I remain. I'm the one who's kept him alive ever since. With some help of course." Freakshow said as he patted Ritz on the shoulder from behind Stitches. The medic didn't seem bothered by the other presence.
With Freakshow's arrival, it heralded the coming of other similar inverted clones over many other Guard clone's shoulders. And even some GAR clone shoulders as well.
One of the Kamino bound clones looked heartbroken as he stood in front. "So he got reconditioned for nothing? He had hoped it would ease his suffering." All eyes framed by gold and red looked at the man and he flinched. Helix and Freakshow both looked at him and the clone stepped forward. "Joyce, Sirs. I....I was the one who saw him go to recon. He asked me not to say anything, just in case it didn't work. He didn't want me getting hurt."
The clone, Joyce, wrapped his arms around himself in self comfort as the anger in Helix's gaze ignited towards him. Freakshow just smiled soothingly. "It worked a little. It allowed me to explain my presence and give him time to really understand how I got there. It did heal him, even if my darling other half doesn't remember." The inverted clone giggled as he laid himself across the medic's shoulders. The other clone just grumbled in annoyance. Joyce smiled sorrowfully, nodding in acceptance.
Only to be punched in the face and fall to the ground. Everyone looked at Helix as he panted. Joyce cupped his jaw and tears filled his eyes. Pale teal tears that spilled over at the rage aimed at him. "You could have saved him! Now Jacob is dead because of you! I'll never have my Vod'ika back thanks to your silence!" Helix roared and Joyce flinched with a whimper. Freakshow growled.
"It wasn't your fucking choice to make. It was Jacob's. Nothing else was working to save his psyche from shattering and causing him to go AWOL. So don't blame him for something he had no control over." Freakshow hissed as he crossed the crack and helped the Kamino Bound clone to stand. The inverted clone grabbed his wrist and dragged Joyce over the crack to the Guard side. Joyce's armor changed colors to red. Much like Freakshow's had changed to gold and blue when he stepped over to the GAR side.
Fox jerked his head towards the riot barrier and Joyce melted into the Guard ranks. Disappearing from sight. No one really argued the Guard literally stealing one of their men. If it made the Guard feel like the man was safer than so be it. "Helix." Cody mumbled and Helix sighed with golden tears in his eyes. Captain Ritz moved to stand in his original place next to the one unnamed Guard officer, while Stitches stood with Freakshow at his back. No malicious smile to creep the GAR out.
Fox cleared his throat and attention was on him. "I'm glad this has happened. Because now I can say this with full confidence. Let it be known that the Guard will no longer treat the GAR with anything but professional politeness and business. It was agreed upon by all members of the Guard. The only expectation to that had been Bonsai. Who still had a batcher outside the Guard who still contacted her." The shiny who had been comforted at the beginning of all this flinched when their name was mentioned.
The shiny, Bonsai, shook as she became the center of attention. Said shiny stopped shaking when one of the bigger enhanced, one with patchy skin and white lined hair, stepped up behind her. Making their massive presence known. The Bad Batch, also part of the GAR despite their commando and black ops status, all looked shocked to see another of Wrecker's enhancement still alive.
"To answer any questions on the enhanced, the one behind Bonsai is Caboose. One of three of the Heavy classed enhanced among the Guard. The other two are Chalk and Titan." Fox said in monotone. The named enhanced nodded once to signal name and face. "They have a similar grouping system to the GAR's Bad Batch, though they don't strictly form up in their original unit unless necessary. Chalk frequents the medical bay, while Titan acts as the heavy artillery for the crew of the Victorian. Caboose acts as a free agent among the Guard, pulling those being reconditioned or decommissioned into our ranks to keep them safe."
Fox explained and Caboose grinned. Cody mumbled to himself in awe while the other GAR Commanders just stared. The Riot Troopers and those behind them had still not eased up. Neither had the other Guardsmen despite the calm atmosphere. "What can we do to regain your trust?" A clone in Wolfpack grey asked and Chemi was the one to answer. Though his voice was hoarse thanks to the damage in that area.
"That is a question best answered by the individual you want to regain the trust of. I'd say we all have different answers to that. Me personally? There really isn't anyway but through time and effort on both sides." The clone said, he sounded almost like he was mimicking someone. Another guard near the back with the Massiff members snorted sarcastically. "Don't get too hopeful though. Not sure I wanna give my trust back after it was shattered the first time." Some members of the Guard nodded in agreement.
It grew quiet after that. Both sides at a stand still. A member of the 49th stepped forward. "Who hurt you? It was supposed to be safe! None of you should have those kinds of injuries!" He shouted and many other GAR members murmured in agreement. The nameless Captain answered. "The Senate. Coruscant. Only ones who really left us alone was the Jetii. Well except for that Vos guy. He visited with food from time to time after we pulled him from the sewers or a dumpster." The answer seemed to echo in the once again silent space. The Guard seemed to act like it was normal. Like having these injuries was a daily thing to them.
Thinking about it now, Cody felt like it probably was.
"And you are?" Wolffe asked. The Captain grinned ferally. "ARC Captain Gatz of the Coruscant Guard. If you got a fucking problem with it we can fight right here and now." The ARC replied, not an ounce of fear in his face or voice. Wolffe raised his hands in surrender. "Just wanted your name! No fighting necessary!" The Wolfpack Commander reassured. That seemed to deflate the ARC as he pouted with a whispered 'Damn it.' that only Ritz seemed to hear. The blonde Captain patting the other on the shoulder in sympathy. Stitches snorted and crossed his arms. "As much as this little reunion has been informative, I have patients I need to tend to. So how about we figure out how to get out of here?"
Fox nodded in agreement. The Guard Riot formation eased just a little, allowing the troops to shake themselves out of their stiffness and reset their bodies.
"We'll deal with those bastards later then." Bacara muttered and several other GAR members whispering a faint 'oya' amongst each other.
The vantage points all lowered and the sniper units melted into the crowd of Guardsmen. Leaving only the black crack as the single deviation to the grey void.
Not that anyone really paid it any mind. The Guard wasn't trusting of the GAR right yet, and they were willing to work to gain that trust back.
No matter how hard it was or how long it took.
#angst#star wars the clone wars#clone ocs#no order 66#starwars#original oc#commander fox#commander cody#commander wolffe#commander bacara#mentions of abuse#mentions of torture#void#force osik#star wars
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
It was an accident.
That had been her mantra since the first night Astarion caught her staring. A mere three nights had passed since they'd begun traveling together, and despite their rough start, she had developed a growing fondness for him. So much so, her attention frequently wandered his way. And on that particular night, she channeled that attention into her art.
Maybe he had felt her eyes on him, some heightened vampiric sense. Whatever it was, he'd spotted her, and Amallia immediately buried her face in her leather-bound book. But she couldn't focus. She'd seen his confusion, his knotted brow and narrowed glare. As she closed her book to tuck away for the night, she thanked Oghma that Astarion had left her to her devices. That look of scrutiny was the fifth sketch in what would become a long series of the pale elf.
The second time he caught her, she had been studying him from her bedroll across camp. And though he never made eye contact, she saw the recognition, the keen understanding out of the corner of his eye. Maybe. It could also be his constant suspicion for all she could tell. But she refused to believe him so callous. Not after what she'd done for him.
The third time he caught her, about two nights later, Astarion had apparently had enough. Amallia did her best to appear nonchalant, but had clearly failed. Astarion slapped his own book shut, smacked it on the ground, and strode across the camp. She froze as he approached. There was no point in hiding it, so she sat there, still as stone to face his berating head on.
"Why in the Hells are you--"
His teeth clicked shut when he spotted the inner most pages of the book. The vast array of his expressions covered both pages. She watched as confusion widened his eyes and drew down that impressively stern brow again. His face, so angular with his pointed nose, high cheekbones, a long jaw, and curling hair, ranged myriad emotions. Those emotions contorted the otherwise pretty face, but before he could see much more, she snapped the book shut.
Her cheeks stung when he met her stare, and a sly grin spread across his lips. She braced herself for the worst of it.
"Oh, this is too good. Our fearless leader has a romantic interest."
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Fucking shit. Astarion would taunt her for this. She should have known, shouldn't have let herself get so close.
"Does the lucky one have a name?"
Lucky one? What kind of joke was this?
Karlach's snorting laughter snatched their attention, but she stifled it when their glares turned on her. Amallia seized the distraction as an opportunity and stuffed her book in its hiding spot. Astarion turned back and, seeing the book gone, opened his mouth to speak, but Amallia cut him off.
"Better get some sleep. Long day ahead of us."
And with that, she curled into her bedroll, turning her back to him. She felt him linger there a moment longer, then his soft footfalls faded to nothing.
Two days later, Astarion brought it up again, unprompted and unprovoked. Which wasn't out of the ordinary for him, she'd learned. But that made it no less surprising when he did it.
"So, Mal, are you ever going to tell us who it is you're swooning over? I'm thirsty for some gossip, we've been walking for hours."
Gale groaned and Shadowheart hummed her amusement through her nose. Damn them. Damn them all. If she could just get a private moment with him, they could talk, and she'd tell Astarion how she actually felt. Up until now, she thought she hadn't needed to. And especially after last night, she definitely thought he understood. Hells, she'd even offered to help him figure out the damn scar on his back. How could he not know? What the fuck did he think they were doing?
"Mal?"
So lost in her own head, she had wandered on several steps after the group had stopped. Their concern, sickeningly genuine, twisted the knife deeper.
"What?"
Crestfallen, Astarion shook his head. "Never mind." He strode past her, not a single ounce of his usual swagger in his steps.
She thought he'd gone out to hunt. The entire camp had turned in early in anticipation of their journey into the Underdark. But Amallia was restless and needed to get a few ideas down before they escaped her. So she withdrew her book and charcoal only to come up blocked.
That wasn't true. She had plenty of inspiration. She could draw his face for days. It came as easy as breathing. That was his doing, and she knew why. She'd seen that distant, far off look he'd tried to hide the night they'd shared his bedroll. Everything about Astarion had begun to make sense then. Which made it all that much worse.
"Who is he?"
Amallia startled, barely stifling her shout. Nearby, Karlach stirred, but returned to her snoring a breath later. Amallia gripped her book tightly, clutching it to her chest. Something, she had to do something, and fast. His expectant stare demanded an answer, and her heart raced, cheeks stung, skin pebbled with gooseflesh...
Without a thought, she surrendered her concerns, gave herself over to those swirling emotions, and all the tension seeped from her shoulders. Her fingers loosened, letting go of her book, and it fell open into her lap.
Only his eyes moved, glaring at the book. That familiar scrutiny pinched his face, a catlike wrinkle at the bridge of his nose. With one more considering look for her, he sighed. Then Astarion knelt beside her, pouring over each sketch, each expression. Some he considered longer than others. He turned the pages back revealing more of the same face featuring so many emotions. More pages, more scrutiny. And then his eyes widened a fraction. Such a small shift, and yet on Astarion it was anything but. He looked to her then, asking the question without speaking.
"Yeah," Amallia said, abashed. "I couldn't stop if I wanted to. You're just... there. All the time. Like my hand's got a mind of its own. I don't even need to think about it. You're--"
She attempted a discreet glance at him, but it stopped her short. Astarion stared at her with wide, round eyes she'd never seen before, so soft, softer than she thought him capable of. Gone was the stern brow, instead raised high in surprise. The sly grin or measuring scowl that thinned his lips had long since vanished, replaced with a subtle, silent oh.
She would have to draw that one. Tonight. If she would let him.
"Astarion?" She reached for his hand. "Are you..."
A shiver shook him from his thoughts. "My apologies... but is that... that's what I look like."
It wasn't a question. Fucking hells, it wasn't a fucking question. Gods, but she had been so stupid, so completely caught up in her own bullshit that she hadn't stopped to think for two seconds. The ache in her chest shot straight through her, an arrow loosed from a bow, and she could have wept for him.
Could have. If it weren't for that ridiculous, shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
"Of course you adore me," he crooned, leaning closer. "And I you." He placed a quick kiss on her lips, then stood and headed back to his tent. "Sweet dreams, darling."
A part of her wanted to scream. The armor had come off for a moment, however brief it was. Had she not been so insufferably self-centered, she might have been better prepared to respond to him in such a vulnerable state.
No. He wasn't ready. Not yet.
He might not ever be ready. Could you be with him like that?
Astarion's hauntingly tender visage in his rare moment of wanting crowded out the unpleasant questions, and Amallia honed in on it like a hawk.
An hour later, she had finished her final sketch of Astarion. And when she saw the lamp still glowing in his tent, she got up and strode right over to it. He deserved to see it. Or maybe she needed him to see it for her own sake. See what she saw in him.
"Astarion?"
Nothing. She pulled the flap aside and found him flat on his back, fast asleep. Instead of waking him, she set the book on the ground beside him, open to the final pages, that moment of his softest surprise taking up the entire left side. Then she returned to her bedroll, crawled in, and promptly passed out.
"Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk."
There it was. The other shoe. After stumbling through the Shadow-Cursed Lands, the attack at Last Light Inn, and their initial meeting with Ketheric Thorm, Amallia had waited on pins and needles for the next disaster to hit.
At first, she thought it was when Raphael reared his too pretty head again. But he had asked for their help, so that couldn't possibly be it. And Astarion, cunning as ever, had sniffed out a vulnerability without even trying. Deal struck, Amallia promised to take out Raphael's rogue orthon, but only because Astarion was perfectly positioned to gain so much.
Indeed, they had gained, and not just the Nightsong. With the knowledge of the Rite of Ascension, they had gained the advantage on Cazador they had so desperately needed. But they had also lost, in a way. Astarion had arrived a crossroads, one she did not envy. Much the opposite, her heart ached for him. And herself. She could lose him. But he stood to lose everything.
And now, mere hours later, he wanted to talk.
The other shoe.
There was no point in wasting time. Amallia breathed in deep, steeling her nerves. When she turned to face Astarion, she froze. That rare softness had returned after so many days away and he held her art book in both hands, clutched to his middle.
"Are you alright?"
A flicker of his sly smile sharpened his features, but only just. "Oh, yes, I'm fine... I just feel awful."
"Understandable, considering the decision you're facing."
Astarion shook his head. "No, that's... fuck Cazador, I'm not talking about that rat bastard for once." He inhaled sharply as though to keep rambling, but he held that breath, then slowly, intentionally, exhaled. "Look," he began anew, "I had a plan. A nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn one me."
Okay, maybe this was the other shoe.
"It was easy. Instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it."
When he paused there, Amallia remained silent. She had known this was a possibility all along, but to hear him say it...
"And all I had to do was not fall for you... which is where my nice, simple plan... fell apart."
Amallia studied his face, every angle, every muscle, every twitch. But she found nothing. The armor was off and she was unprepared. Again.
"You... you're incredible. You deserve something real..." He held out her art book, handing it back to her. "I want us to be something real."
She took the book from him and, seeing the ribbon mark moved, opened it to that very last page. Her heart hammered in her chest, beating against her ribs as if to escape. To the right of her last sketch of him sat a sketch of her in full color pastel, an easy smile on her lips, a crinkle at the corner of her eyes, and the slightest scrunch to her nose.
"Please say something."
"I do," she started. "I do, too. Want us to be real. More than anything."
"Good," he breathed. "Oh, that's... that's good. And terrifying. I... don't know what real looks like. Not after two hundred years of playing the rake."
Oh. "Astarion, you don't have to explain. If it--"
"No, I owe you this," he stated. "Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy really, was something I performed to lure people back... for him."
Disdain dripped from his last words as Astarion's typical scowl returned. She resisted the urge to step closer, to be closer to him, and instead settled for a useless apology. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," he hissed, but his anger faded as quick as it had come, all soft and smooth once more. "Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels... tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don't know how else to be with someone... No matter how much I'd like to."
Fuck. She'd been right about him. But for all the wrong reasons. "That's... okay, Astarion. Well, no, it's not okay, but you know what I mean. I care for you. Deeply."
The scrutiny with which he often regarded everyone returned, and for whatever reason, Amallia found a comfort in it.
"Really?" he asked.
He could say no. If he didn't want her physically near him, he could say no, or push her away. But if he did want her closer, close enough to feel, and she hadn't taken the chance...
Each hesitant step dragged, time stretching, slowing, until at last Amallia wrapped her arms around his shoulders. For a single, terrifying second, nothing happened. Then Astarion all but melted into her, arms threading around her waist and pulling her in tight.
She lingered there, not wanting it to end so soon. But when she attempted to parted from him, he briefly clung to her a moment longer, then let her go.
There it was again. That same shocked realization, with his round eyes, raised brow, and slack-jaw, had taken over his face. And then it was gone, replaced again by his classic charm.
"You're full of surprises... aren't you?"
"Guilty as charged."
He laughed as he said, "Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing. Or what comes next."
His confident smile set her heart racing anew. Then Astarion held out his hand. Without a single consideration for caution, Amallia placed hers in his. Such a tender touch, enveloped by his hands, sent a shiver down her spine.
"But I know that this? This is nice."
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fighting For You - Rania x reader x Layan
summary: Rania, Layan and (f/n) have been best friends for a long time. But what if that simply isn't enough anymore? Will Rania and Layan manage to save their friendship?
warnings: mentions of abuse (yk Rania's dad)
word count: 1.151
Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.
Requested? Yes
---------------------
“Hey, (f/n)! Do you wanna come to the club with us later?”, Layan invited me.
We were on our school trip right now. Everyone was enjoying the holiday feeling, enjoying relaxing in the sun, playing volleyball and drinking some alcohol-free cocktails at the bar.
“What do you mean? Are you going to sneak out again?”, I questioned.
We were standing a bit apart from the rest of the class. So nobody was listening us.
“Yeah, it'll be fun”, Rania tried encouraging me. “But even more so if you come along.”
“I'm feeling flattered, but I don't know. Weird things are happening lately. I'm not sure if it's smart to sneak out right now”, I considered.
“I'm sure it'll be fine”, Layan proposed.
“We're gonna dress up, dance a little. Nobody's even gonna notice”, Rania supposed.
“Fine”, I gave in with a sigh. “But only because it's you.”
The girls smiled brightly at me and I could not help but smile back.
Then we all went over to the bar to enjoy some cocktails and chat a bit. It was great to spend so much time with Rania and Layan without having to worry about their families.
And when we had managed to fool Miss Abeer and arrived at the club a few hours later, it felt like a whole new world had just opened up to us.
Strict rules, like staying with the group, wearing certain clothes, being calm and reasonable were replaced by flashy lights, loud music and hot outfits.
I had no idea how Layan had gotten our names onto the list, but that did not matter.
We were having the time of our lives dancing together.
I was feeling high by the way their bodies were moving so close to mine, following the rhythm of the beat.
After a while I excused myself to go to the bathroom. When I was about to leave and return to the dance floor, I almost bumped into Layan.
“Hey! What do you say? Are you enjoying yourself?”, Layan asked me, wearing a huge smile.
“Definitely”, I confirmed. “I love spending time with you anyway.”
“Oh, I love to hear that”, she shot back, her smile turning into a smirk.
“I'm gonna wait until you're finished”, I declared.
“Alright. Give me two minutes”, she requested.
Staying true to my words I was waiting outside until she joined me again. Together we made our way back to Rania.
But just as we wanted to approach her Miss Abeer and Miss Jumana showed up.
I quickly caught Layan's wrist to stop her from getting any closer.
“Shit”, she cursed. “What are we gonna do? We can't just leave her.”
Rania seemed to be looking around for us and shortly made eye contact with me. Then she signaled us to leave.
Reluctantly we took her offer and hurried back to our room, wiping off the make-up and putting our pajamas on as we were freaking out.
“I can't believe we bailed on her”, I accused us.
“We didn't mean to. Rania only tried to help us out. Her situation wouldn't get any better if we got caught as well”, Layan resonated.
“Doesn't make me feel any better though”, I noted.
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
In the end Rania got suspended for a few days and we could not even contact her. Our assumption was that her parents had confiscated her phone.
And when Rania was finally back she was acting weird toward Layan. The other way around as well. I wondered what I had missed for them to behave so different all of a sudden.
“Does your eye hurt a lot?”, I worried about Rania, softly touching her cheek.
“It's getting better. At least I can open it properly again”, she remarked.
Knowing that I could not do anything to protect her from her dad was making me furious. The helplessness was almost unbearable.
Out of the three of us I was definitely the lucky one in regards to our parents.
Rania and Layan exchanged a glare, which took me completely off guard. I was tired of this already.
“What happened between you two?”, I inquired.
“What do you mean?”, Layan brushed it off.
“You know exactly what I mean. There's something in between you. You're barely talking and always looking at each other like you might attack the other any moment”, I proclaimed.
“It's nothing”, Rania mumbled.
“Guys, please don't leave me hanging. What are you fighting about?”
“Just like you said it's between us”, Rania insisted.
“It's not if I'm in the middle of your stupid fight. Just solve it”, I requested.
“It's nothing to solve that easily”, Layan alluded.
I waited for her to continue.
“It's about you. Rania accused me that I followed you to the bathroom on purpose to have you to myself for a moment”, Layan proposed.
“So what? That's not that big of a deal, is it?”, I suggested.
But telling from their silence and body language, my assumption seemed to be wrong.
“It is?”, I wondered. “Why?”
“We love you, (f/n). Both of us”, Rania confessed.
“Yeah, I know. But I love you, too. So that shouldn't be an issue at all”, I shot back.
“No, we mean we love you more than just a friend. We love you romantically. So we were being a bit jealous and fighting over you”, Layan elaborated.
“Not exactly our proudest moment”, Rania added.
I was shocked for a moment, but quickly regained control. “What if I actually do love you both?”, I questioned.
“Are you serious?”, Rania reassured.
“Yeah”, I promised. “I love you both. I've known for a while, but was too scared to admit it. I didn't want to lose you.”
Layan let out a relieved laugh, tears pricking in her eyes. “I can't believe we fought when we could have solved it so easily.”
She then took a step closer to me and cupped my cheek. It felt like she was knowing exactly what was going through my mind when our eyes met.
Her lips on mine made all the tension leave my body that had been weighing me down mere minutes ago.
When Layan pulled away again, I could not help the smile on my face, which she reciprocated immediately.
I cupped her cheek for a moment and locked my eyes on hers to show her that I was seeing her, before I turned over to address Rania: “Are you okay with that?”
She nodded eagerly. So I did not hesitate to pull her into a kiss as well.
I had never imagined our relationship to work out like this, but I could not have dreamed of anything better.
--------------------
So what do you guys think about it?
Tag List: @sunwoniie
#al rawabi school for girls#layan x fem reader#rania x fem reader#lgbtqia#romance#drama#angst#fluff#female reader#violence#mentions of abuse
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
never fallen from quite this high || akutagawa & chuuya sickfic
ao3! 2.7k - please refer to the tags and notes in the link for content + warnings! there's quite a bit in this one!
"Akutagawa, do you have a moment?"
Hirotsu doesn't often call him. Even when the Black Lizard have an issue of any kind, Hirotsu can typically resolve it himself. He's a very capable leader, and his many years in the mafia allow Ryuunosuke to put a lot of trust in him.
So he's already on edge about this phone call. Hirotsu would never call him for no reason. He would never call him if it weren't important.
"I do," Ryuunosuke answers. He's in Chuuya's office, high up in the Port Mafia headquarters building, waiting for him to return with some documents. He feels the muscles in his shoulders tense up painfully. He's already sore and in pain after several days of work. "What is it?"
"Gin was badly injured today," Hirotsu starts. He's calm, but his voice is stern.
Ryuunosuke feels dizzy.
Again, this is something Hirotsu would never tell him unless it were serious. Gin is often injured in her line of work, he's aware of that. They're in the same boat, in that regard. But as long as she gets prompt and proper treatment, Ryuunosuke knows he doesn't have to worry. Gin looks after herself, and Hirotsu, Tachihara and Higuchi do as well.
He never has to worry about her. He hates this feeling. He feels as small and pathetic as he did living in the slums.
"A few of our subordinates were responsible for covering for her. Tachihara and I were on opposite ends of the building," Hirotsu explains, and Ryuunosuke leans against the wall. "Her backup is missing, and she was unconscious when I found her. I don't know what happened, but our targets were dangerous and gifted."
"What - what kind of injury, Hirotsu?" he asks, hating just how shaky his voice sounds. It's coming through as anger, he's aware of that, but he would never admit he's terrified. He needs to calm himself down, but he doesn't know how. He didn’t think their targets were going to pose any kind of real threat. He would have gone with them if he was concerned.
"I'm not quite sure. There was a substantial injury to her chest and one on her head. She lost a lot of blood, Akutagawa," Hirotsu tells him. Hirotsu must know that he isn't taking this lightly. He knows it's truly serious. "I'll let you know if I'm given any updates. She’s currently in surgery."
"Thank you," Ryuunosuke murmurs, and soon enough, the line goes dead.
Ryuunosuke realizes can't breathe.
He knows he's having a panic attack, but he's never quite figured out how to stop them, or how to deal with them at all. He doesn't know what to do. This isn't the kind of thing he can just sit back and calm himself down about. Hirotsu didn't say it outright, but the circumstances tell him that this could be life or death. His sister might die. There's nothing to be calm about.
"I told you not to go outside by yourself," Ryuunosuke had chided, several years ago. Gin wouldn’t look him in the eye. She left their shelter in the middle of the night without any of them to back her up, and Ryuunosuke couldn’t understand why. Some of their friends had died doing reckless things like that.
"I can handle myself too," she said quietly, staring at her hands. She's not combative or defensive with her words, she's never been that way. "I want to help us in the same way you do, Ryuu."
She said all of that with a gash in her forearm so deep that bright red blood was still dripping from her arm, pooling in her palm. They had ways to prevent each other from getting hurt like that, and it meant to not go anywhere alone.
He presses a hand to his eyes as his breath shakes.
She's all by herself.
"Akutagawa, I need you to look over this for me. I'm not really…"
Chuuya's voice trails off as he wanders into the office and closes the door behind him, and Ryuunosuke wants nothing more than to leave the room and pretend he was never seen, pretend he was never there, but he knows Chuuya wouldn't rest until he caught him.
"The hell's goin' on with you?" he asks unceremoniously, stopping only a few feet before him.
"Nothing," Ryuunosuke breathes out. barely, trying to somehow gain some composure, but through his mind flashes images of the friends he and Gin grew up with, murdered in cold blood in front of them. He needs to get out, but he can’t move.
He can't lose Gin too. He can't.
He hears the gunshots, the blood, the organ matter spraying from their bullet wounds. He hears the flesh being torn off one of their faces by a rabid dog. He feels the ice-like skin of a friend who died in his sleep from the cold of an unbearable winter, once he wishes he never survived through. All things he'd long forgotten, pushed out of his mind. All things he told himself would never happen to anyone he cared about ever again, and here he is.
The sounds only get louder, muffling everything else. He hears Gin’s sobs after they had found the youngest girl from their group completely mutilated, and Ryuunosuke still sees her. He smells the rotten flesh of the friends they had to wait to bury because of the cold. He hears the incomprehensible muttering of a boy they rescued from being trafficked. Ryuunosuke feels the hands all over him, he hears his own thoughts from back then - whatever they do to me is the price I have to pay to get food for everyone. He hears Gin’s shaky voice asking where he’s been. He thinks he might pass out. The memories on their own are incredibly overwhelming for him, but all at once like this is far too much for him to handle.
He feels himself start to list sideways, but something stops. He doesn't feel anything against him, he doesn't hit anything, but there's a hand on his shoulder gently urging him to sit down, with the help of his gravity ability.
Chuuya's eyes are a piercing shade of blue. Once they're sitting on the floor, it's all Ryuunosuke can look at. Chuuya’s close as he takes his hand back. Ryuunosuke and Gin used to watch the sea in the early mornings, when things were quiet, when they could let their guard down for a few moments - that glittering blue, it's just like that.
"You've gotta tell me what's goin' on. I can't help if I don't know. Don't pass out on me like that," Chuuya tells him with a scoff, but his concern is obvious. Ryuunosuke doesn't want to tell him. He doesn't want to repeat it. He's terrified that saying it out loud will give the universe more reason to make it true, and the panic starts to set in again. If he had any tears left to shed, he's sure his eyes would be flooded with them by now.
What is he supposed to do without his sister?
"Hey. Hey, you're okay," Chuuya tells him, his voice suddenly much softer than before. Ryuunosuke is having trouble breathing, now. He’s quite familiar with the feeling. He tries his best to consciously take normal breaths, but it isn’t working. Someone is screaming in his ear.
Chuuya scoots himself closer to him, the concern and confusion in his eyes only growing. Ryuunosuke brings his knees into his chest and Chuuya lays a hand on one, lowering his head a bit to force some eye contact from Ryuunosuke, but he won’t budge. His stomach churns and twists without much warning and he feels every muscle in his abdomen tense up. He’s so overwhelmed.
"You look like you're about to puke," Chuuya says just before Ryuunosuke brings a hand up to his mouth. He definitely is. Ryuunosuke can barely manage a nod, but Chuuya has already gone with his assumption and stands to fetch the trash bin by his desk, and much to Ryuunosuke’s horror, it’s an effort made too late, because he leans over to the left and chokes up stomach bile without a chance to hold it back, even for a few seconds.
His nausea always sneaks up on him like this, only ever giving him a few seconds to react. All he could manage was that first splatter. He hasn’t eaten a thing today, so he doesn’t have anything left to bring up, even though his stomach is still trying to twist everything out of itself.
It brings him back to reality, for better or for worse. He’s more focused on the fact that he’s just thrown up on the carpet of Chuuya’s office than the horrible memories that were taunting him just moments ago. His face feels hot and his hands are clammy. He wants nothing more than to go curl up and hide somewhere, but there isn’t even room to pretend right here.
He tries to breathe through it. In through his nose and out through his mouth, but all he can manage is a few sputtering coughs and some sharp breaths in. He brings his arms back up to his chest, subconsciously trying to make himself smaller.
“I’m sorry, I - ”
"Don't worry about it. I've seen people puke before. I don't care," Chuuya says, kneeling in front of him, now. Chuuya isn’t the type to lie about things like that, so Ryuunosuke feels a little better about it, but he still feels miserable. His head is swimming in every direction and his stomach hurts, the muscles are pressing up against his stomach and trying to force more out, and he dry heaves into his hand. He wants to lay down. “You’ve gotta breathe, you’re gonna pass out if you keep doing that. Listen to me, alright?”
Chuuya’s hand lands on Akutagawa’s shoulder, and his face is much closer than he expected it to be once he tilts his head up. Chuuya sucks in a breath and holds it for a few seconds, and Ryuunosuke realizes that he’s trying to get him to mirror that. He’s not sure if he can, or if he wants to, but Chuuya isn’t giving him other options.
He struggles the first few times. He’s worried he’s going to throw up again for a few moments there, when his breath shakes and he coughs, but the nausea slowly subsides, the closer he gets to a normal breathing pattern.
“Please don’t leave,” Ryuunosuke had begged her with the little energy he had. It was one of the coldest nights of the year, and Ryuunosuke was so sick he couldn’t move. Gin wanted to go look for food with two of the others in their group, but Ryuunosuke couldn’t bear the thought, in his fevered brain.
“I’m not going anywhere, Ryuu. Don’t worry, okay?”
He’s slowly losing control of his breaths again, and Chuuya reaches forward to squeeze his hand.
“Where are you right now?” Chuuya asks him sternly. Ryuunosuke’s met with those beautiful blue eyes of his again, and he’s pulled out of his memory with Gin.
“Your…your office,” Ryuunosuke manages. He almost forgot, he only remembers because of the vomit on the floor.
“Yeah, that’s right. And what’s today again? I can’t remember,” Chuuya says casually, but Ryuunosuke can still pick apart hints of tension in his voice. He hides it well.
“It’s…December twenty-seventh,” Ryuunosuke mumbles after taking in a deep breath. He shivers when met with the idea that he’ll have to leave the building soon. He really hates the cold.
“Right, right. You got any plans for the New Year?” Chuuya asks him gently. Ryuunosuke shakes his head, he can’t think that far ahead right now. “I’ve got this party I do with my subordinates every year at my place. Lots of drinking, though, I know that’s not really your thing.”
“Not particularly,” Ryuunosuke murmurs. His stomach twists at the thought of alcohol. His voice feels weak and heavy. Chuuya’s grip loosens on his hand and he reaches up to his forehead to lay the back side against it. He frowns, and slides his hand down to his cheek, checking with his palm this time. Ryuunosuke shrinks backward, but Chuuya doesn't care.
"You're warm. Feels like a fever," Chuuya sighs as he pulls his hand back. "How long you been sick for?"
He's always sick, he wants to say, but that's a notion that wouldn't help anyone in this situation. Ryuunosuke doesn't know when he stopped being sick the last time and this time started - he never feels well. But he won't tell Chuuya that. He just shrugs. He’s just glad he can finally breathe again.
"I'm hopin' you just worked yourself up and that's all it is," Chuuya says. "Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you, Akutagawa?"
"My sister’s injured,” Ryuunosuke mumbles, lowering his chin. Chuuya sucks in a breath through his teeth. He must know that Ryuunosuke wouldn’t react like this if it wasn’t serious. He opens his mouth, almost looking like he wants to know what happened, but he stops.
“Do you want to go see her?” Chuuya asks.
“She’s being operated on,” Ryuunosuke says quietly. He needs to trust that they’ll take good care of her.
Chuuya nods. He pauses for a moment, but stands up and offers Ryuunosuke a hand. “You should lay down for a while, then. I have a couch in the other room.”
Ryuunosuke’s first inclination is to refuse that offer. He doesn’t have any right to accept help from Chuuya, not after he’s gone out of his way to help him, not after Ryuunosuke vomited on his floors. He’s embarrassed, but the idea of walking anywhere right now makes him want to pass out.
So Ryuunosuke extends a shaky hand out to Chuuya, and he lifts him from the floor completely effortlessly. Chuuya takes that opportunity to lead him to the adjacent room, not once letting go of his hand.
Ryuunosuke feels his brain spin inside his skull once they walk through the doorway, and he nearly faints as soon as they make it to the couch, but Chuuya doesn’t let it happen. He uses his ability to gently lay him down on the couch, kneeling down with him once his body relaxes. His fingers slide from their grip on Ryuunosuke’s and he lays his hand on Ryuunosuke’s cheek once again with a disapproving sigh, confirming it must in fact be a fever.
Ryuunosuke lays his hand over Chuuya’s, wishing he would keep it there. Chuuya’s hands are usually warm, but right now, they’re just what his fevered skin needs for some relief. A weak, pained groan escapes his throat. He���s lost all of his energy.
“I’ll call Hirotsu and ask him to let me know when she can be seen. Rest 'til then, ‘kay?” Chuuya says gently. "She'll be okay. She's survived this far,"
Ryuunosuke lets his eyes fall shut. He trusts Chuuya. Chuuya wouldn’t lie to him.
…
Two days later, Gin is stable enough to have visitors, and Ryuunosuke’s fever finally breaks.
Ryuunosuke doesn’t remember much past falling asleep on Chuuya’s couch. Chuuya told him he had to bring him to the infirmary at some point because he had become unresponsive, but Ryuunosuke remembers his presence the whole time.
He still has a bit of a temperature, and Chuuya told him to keep the cooling patch on his forehead for a while, but he peels it off before he goes to see Gin. He doesn’t want her to worry about him.
He parts the curtains where the nurses lead him, and the shattered pieces of his heart start to dig and twist into nearby organs. He’s never seen her like this before. She’s surrounded by equipment, lines, and tubing - oxygen, a fluid line, things Ryuunosuke has gotten very familiar with over the years - and things to keep her vitals well monitored. Ryuunosuke hates seeing these things on his sister.
When his eyes finally get the courage to look at her face, the warmth in her smile is enough to release all of the tension in his body.
"Hi," she says quietly, almost like a squeak. He can tell she hasn’t used her voice in a while.
Ryuunosuke can only let himself cry in front of her.
#chuuaku my beloved#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#chuuaku#chuuya#akutagawa#gin#my fanfictions#ao3#fanfic#illness#sick#vomiting#emeto#fever#bsd#angst#trauma#mentions of abuse#mentions of death#chuuya x akutagawa#hirotsu#whump
41 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
housefires
BUTCHERS BEST
astringofpearlss
pretty in pink
ziarising
ziarising
lunurday
Lunur Laundromat
